Ice cold water is tossed into Emily's face, forcing her to sputter awake. She quickly takes stock of her situation: wrists and ankles duct-taped to a chair, blindfold, and a lingering headache from the chloroform. She takes a deep breath.

"If you felt I needed a shower you could have just said so," she states, her voice steady with anger.

A man chuckles. "Cute, Agent Prentiss. You are a ravishing beauty and your perfume is devine, I must say. However, we have brought you here today to get a little information. I need to know what you know."

"That could take a while. I humbly have to say I am quite intelligent."

The man chuckles again and looks at his men. "I like her." He turns back to Emily. "What is James Koresh telling you people?"

"He's not giving up shit about anything," Emily states.

"Oh, I find that hard to believe. That little worm will do what he has to do to save his ass. So I ask again, nicely, what has he told you and the other agents?"

"Nothing," Emily insists.

The man sighs. "Tsk, tsk, tsk, Agent Prentiss. I didn't want to go this route."

Unseen by her, he gestures to one of his men. The man starts to undo his belt buckle. Emily stiffens.

"Oh, God….they're going to rape me for information," she thinks, forcing herself not to shudder at the thought.

Her interrogator smiles, seeing her breathing change and knowing what she is expected. He turn as his man grips the buckle of his belt and slowly slides it from his pants. He then wraps it twice around his fist.

"Last chance, Agent Prentiss," the leader warns.

She tightens her fists but keeps her mouth shut. The leader nods to his man.

"So be it."

The man draws his hand back and then whips the end of his belt across Emily's face. She gasps, her head flipping to the side, then gets it flipped back when he brings the belt back against the other side of her face. He repeats the attack three times before his boss stops him. Emily is fighting to control her breathing as her cheeks feel like they are on fire.

"That red is far too bright for your complexion, Agent Prentiss."

"Fuck…you," she forces out.

He ignores her. "A few more strikes and you will start to turn purple. Do you really think any concealer out there will hide those bruises?"

Emily finally gets her breathing normal. "Who are you kidding? I'm dead as soon as I tell you anything."

"Now, Agent Prentiss, take stock of your situation. You haven't seen any of us, you didn't even see the vehicle that brought you here. When we're done, we'll knock you out and return you far from this location. What could you possibly tell anyone about us?"

"Bullshit."

"I see you need more convincing. Give her four."

Emily tenses and endures another 8 strikes to her face. She tries to concentrate on images of her wife and children; reasons to fight; reasons to pray her team finds her.

"Again, Agent Prentiss, what is Mr. Koresh saying."

"F- -fuck…you."

"Give her 8."

Four more times she is asked and each time he adds 4 more double strikes to the whipping. Her face is an inferno of pain. Emily just keeps thinking of her family. She tenses when she feels someone squat down beside her chair, shifting away from them.

"Easy, Agent Prentiss. Not like you can do anything but put more stress on your body trying to get away from me. Why won't you just tell us one little thing? Just one thing," he bargains. "What is Koresh saying about his…associates."

Emily takes a deep breath. "Just…that?"

The man smiles, sure he has broken her. "Yes…just that."

Emily rolls her head towards him, wishing she could glare at him. "He says you're all a bunch of pathetic fucks."

The man's smile disappears. "I've tried to be nice, Agent Prentiss. Now it's time to get mean." He turns to his men. "Get a set a pliers."

Emily hears a man digging around in a toolbox, most likely making more noise than necessary to try to intimidate her. She listens as footsteps approach her.

"Thank you," her captor says. "Now, one last chance. What is he saying about his associates, Agent Prentiss."

"Go to hell," Emily spits.

The man grabs her hand. Emily tries to pull away but can't. He grabs her pinky finger with the pliers and starts to squeeze. Emily fights as long as she can before letting out an inhuman scream. Her captor smiles. He'll make her talk. Soon.

"THERE!" Morgan yells.

Garcia stops the rewinding feed. They see two men grabbing Emily.

"Back up a couple seconds more then start it forward in slow motion," Morgan orders.

Garcia does as asked. Morgan and Rossi stand over her shoulder watching the abduction of Emily Prentiss.

"That van…we need a plate," Rossi orders.

"I know, I know. No view of it yet," Garcia notes.

Leaving the abduction of Emily, she shifts through several different camera angles until she finds the one that will (hopefully) help them. She winds the feed backwards until the rear of the van is in view, she cleans up the pixilation, and…

"GOT IT!"

Morgan quickly calls Todd Baylor who immediately punches in the license plate and van description into an APB.

"Let's pray the tag is legit," Rossi says. Morgan just nods.

Hotch has to fight the urge to slam Koresh into the wall. "A couple of your buddies kidnapped one of my agents. If she is harmed, or worse, you will stand for that, too."

"NO! I was here! I had nothing to do with that!"

"She was TAKEN because they think YOU might rat them out!" Hotch shouts. "Who the fuck would take her and where would they take her?"

Koresh runs a hand through his hair. "I…I…"

Marty Florence grabs him and does what Hotch had wanted to. Koresh's head bounces off the wall.

"YOU STUPID FUCK! You caused the death of one friend of mine. So help me you cause the death or even injury of another I'll gladly lose my badge to avenge them both!"

Reid grabs Florence and pulls him off. Hotch steps into Koresh's face.

"I won't have my agent pull him off a second time."

Koresh looks around the room. The agents had at one time promised to protect him from the Chicago outfit. Now…now it looks like they may do more damage to him than the mob.

"There's…there's a warehouse. Abandoned after Katrina but they never tore it down. They use if for, uh, you know...settling scores and stuff. They might take her there."

"And if not there?" Hotch presses.

"I don't know. I swear I don't know."

"What's the address?"

Koresh gives them the address and the agents and detective hurry out of the room as another officer steps in to watch the prisoner. Hotch is terrified the visiting mobsters might use a different location in case Koresh gave up the warehouse but he can't risk not checking it out. They'd had Emily for almost 3 hours. He keeps thinking about the 3 days of torture Clyde Easter had put her through and prays her body can still hold out the way it did that time.

Garcia, thanks to the address Koresh gave up, tracks the van via street cams until she loses it near the old docks. The agents are hopeful that means they will find their friend there. JJ paces behind Garcia, unable to sit down, unable to stop worrying.

"Jayje, maybe you could- -"

"Just. Stop. Garcia," JJ warns.

The analyst and Kevin exchange a look, both wishing they knew what to say to ease her mind.

Morgan, Baylor and Rossi approach the backdoor of the warehouse. Just as he is about to radio they are in position Morgan hears Emily scream. He sees red and kicks in the backdoor without warning.

In front, Hotch tries to turn off memories of Morgan being held in a similar building. They had gotten to Morgan in time. What if it is too late for Emily? As he awaits Morgan's signal, he hears Emily give a horrible scream. Hotch stomps towards the door and kicks it in without warning.

"FREEZE! FBI!" echoes throughout the building as Hotch and Morgan race towards the four men surrounding Emily.

Two men pull guns. Morgan kills one, Hotch the other. One man throws his hands in the air and backs away from Emily. The fourth man jumps behind her and puts a gun to her head.

"ANOTHER STEP AND I KILL HER!"

Hotch and Morgan stop, both have their guns trained on the man. Florence, Baylor and Rossi step up beside them, their guns also ready.

"DROP YOUR GUNS! DROP THEM!" the man screams.

"No," Hotch says. "You drop yours or we drop you. Those are the only 2 choices here.

Florence nods at the man that has surrendered. "You. On the ground. Face down arms out to the side."

The young man complies. His boss gives him a disgusted look. But he turns back to the agents.

"She and I are gonna drive out of here."

"The fuck you are," Morgan states. "You versus five guns: you won't win, man."

The man is shifting his eyes from man to man. Suddenly he feels a tap on his shoulder.

"Hey," Reid says softly.

The man turns, his gun shifting away from Emily…and Reid slams the butt of his gun into the man's temple. He stumbles back and Reid kicks the gun out of his hand. As the man falls on his ass, Reid shifts his revolver and points it at the man's head.

"Morgan can't count. There were six guns versus you."

Morgan races to Emily as Hotch and Baylor go after the leader and Florence and Rossi take care of the man that surrendered. Morgan kneels down beside his best friend and pulls out his pocket knife.

"We're here, Em. You're going to be okay."

Tears roll silently down her bruised, swollen cheeks. "Derek…I…oh, God, I hurt Derek."

"I know, Em. I know. You're going to be okay. I promise. You'll be just fine."

He finishes cutting away the tape around her wrists and she throws her arms around his neck. He reaches up and pulls off the blindfold.

"You're okay now. I swear," he reiterates.

"J…Jen?"

"Scared but she'll be fine now that you're safe."

"My hand, Derek."

"I saw. You'll be okay. We'll get it treated and you'll be fine. You'll be a concert pianist again in no time."

He is relieved to hear her give a sobbed-choked chuckle. She eases back and stares into his eyes.

"I knew you guys would find me. Never doubted it."

He smiles. "Good to know."

He leans down and cuts her ankles free. She cradles her left hand. The bastard had used the pliers to painfully squeeze and twist her fingers. He hadn't broken them but they were all swollen and she was sure a couple had ligament damage. She looks at her wedding ring.

"Morgan…can you get it off. Can you try? I don't want them to cut it. Please."

Morgan stares at it a moment then tries to pull it off. He can't get it up over her knuckle.

"Em…I'm sorry."

"Fuck. I…I never wanted…I…I don't want…I…"

"Maybe the hospital will have a way not to cut it. I will do my best to keep them from cutting it off. I promise."

Morgan steps out of the way of the EMTs who start to evaluate Emily and prepare her for transport. He thinks a second then places a call.

"Helen? I know they last thing you need to worry about right now is work but, well, Emily needs help. I'm not sure if you can do anything but I'd really appreciate it if you could try."

"HOTCH?" JJ screams into her phone.

"She's alive. Bruised, dehydrated, sore but alright," Hotch assures his newest profiler.

JJ drops into a chair. "Oh, thank God." She takes a deep breath. "What hospital?"

"Helen's. In fact I think Morgan is calling her because…well, it looks like they were using pliers on her fingers."

"Oh, God…oh, Hotch…"

"She's okay, JJ. But her wedding ring can't come off at the moment. I know she's had issues about the removal of it and if it has to be cut off she'll feel that more than the physical pain."

"I know. I'll meet her at the hospital. The real Agent Mink called. Helicopter is ready when you are."

Hotch takes a deep breath. "We're on our way to the airstrip. Let's take all these bastards down."

"Damn right. Good luck and please, please be safe."

"We will be."

JJ hangs up and looks at the computer geeks. "The guys are going straight to the copter. I'm going to meet Emily at the hospital."

"She's okay?" Garcia asks.

"Mostly. They…they hurt her, Pen. But she's alive and that's all I'm going to concentrate on right now," JJ states with conviction.

The geeks nod as JJ walks out of the room. Garcia suddenly stands.

"Come on."

"Where are we going?" Kevin asks.

"We're walking her out in case those assholes that took Emily have friends."

Kevin scrambles to his feet and follows Garcia.

Emily feels a hand stroke her cheek. She opens her eyes and forces a smile to her face.

"Hi."

JJ leans down and kisses her gently. "Hi."

"I have to buy Helen something pretty and you owe her chocolates," Emily says weakly.

JJ can't help but smile. "Uh, okay. And why?"

Emily holds up her left hand, which is surrounded by an ice pack. "She got my wedding ring off without having to cut it. She's holding it for you."

JJ chuckles. "I'll buy her two boxes of chocolate for that one." She studies her wife's swollen face, striped with bright red lines and purple bruises. "God, baby, are you okay? Really?"

"Yeah," Emily assures her. "They didn't give me morphine but whatever they did use is great."

JJ laughs. "Uh, not what I meant but I'll take that for now." She takes a deep breath. "I was so scared, Em. I'm sorry I made you go home."

Emily shakes her head. "Stop. They wanted one of us. If not me it would have been someone else. I'm just so glad it wasn't you. And so damn glad it wasn't Pen again." She swallows hard and JJ grabs the cup of water on the side, holding the straw so Emily can wet her mouth. "Thanks." JJ nods and sets the cup aside. "Guys going for the assassin?"

"Yeah. We should have him in custody in an hour or so."

"Good. I was worried we'd never have good answers for Henry and Helen." Emily's eyes start to droop.

"We will, Em. We most certainly will." She kisses Emily's forehead. "Sleep now, baby. Just sleep."

Emily just nods and closes her eyes. JJ stares down at her.

"I couldn't have handled losing you, Em. Just couldn't have handled it," she whispers as she rubs her hands over their twins.

Hotch and Morgan shake their heads.

"Too late. Too fucking late," Hotch says in frustration.

"Probably ran as soon as he left Garcia," Morgan suggests.

"Most likely." He walks over and picks up a family portrait off a shelf. "A wife and three kids. He packed them up and took off."

"He even left his pride and joy," Rossi reports walking into the room. "1966 Mustang GT. Beautiful car. Even has what looks to be the factory original 8-track player."

"Shit. So he's not even staying in the States. He's going back wherever he came from." He holds up the photo. "No other photos in the room. This is either a ruse or in his haste he missed it."

"Let's hope he missed it and get Garcia running those faces. If they all left together they may be boarding a plane or something," Morgan states.

"Guys! Can you come in here a minute?" Reid calls from another room.

They walk into a den and see the genius staring at the wall.

"What is it, Reid?" Hotch asks.

"I know I'm not into building like Morgan but this wall looks off to me."

Morgan walks over and runs his hand down the wall as he studies it. He steps into the hallway a moment, glances back in the room, then walks down to the next room. He walks back into the den nodding.

"Reid's right. That wall happens too soon. There's a space between the two rooms."

Hotch and Rossi go into the next room, while Reid and Morgan stay in that room to search for a way to open the secret room. It is Rossi who finally locates the button disguised as a door stop. He twists it just right and a door pops open in the guest bedroom.

"In here!" He calls out.

He and Hotch stare in awe at the room. The fact that there are at least 40 guns of varying sizes in the room tells them their killer has fled overseas. Hotch walks over and uses his gloved hand to pick up a letter sitting on top of the only gun not on the wall.

Dear Agents or Detectives,

I am assuming you ripped my house apart looking for evidence of who I am. If you've found this room I will save you some time: the revolver below this letter was my weapon of choice when carrying out contracts. It is the one that killed Detective William LaMontagne. I swear I was lead to believe there was a valid reason for his death. Sadly, it seems my partner was instead trying to get me caught, most likely in hope of knowing where I would be so another assassin could end my life.

Though I know you wish me to stand for my various crimes, I am afraid I must disappoint you. My family and I have departed the United States with no plans to return.

Please pass on my condolences to the family of Detective LaMontagne.

Hotch grunts as he finishes the letter. "He'll have to excuse me if I don't pass on anything about his ass to Helen."

Rossi nods. "Agreed. Let's show the picture to Koresh. If it's the man known as Anthony Powell we'll get it out to every port and gate in the country. He won't get out of here easily."

Hotch just nods, worried it may be too late to get full justice for Will. But they would have the money man and his machinations are what lead to the untimely, and pointless death of their friend. He would pay for Will and every other death attached to the revolver.