Thanks abound for the reviews. It means a lot that you all take the time to let me know what you think, and I appreciate each and every one.

Kudos to Shadpup, who suggested this conversation topic to me a while back.

Happy reading =)

"The worst guilt is to accept an unearned guilt." – Ayn Rand

"It's open," I call out after hearing a few knocks on my office door.

"Hey Rossi, you busy?" she asks, peeking her head around the door.

"Not too busy that I have to turn down a visit from you, Prentiss," I say with a smile.

She groans. "God, I see how you got your reputation now."

"And what reputation would that be?"

"The one that caused the implementation of the non-fraternization policy," she says with a smirk.

"I'm pleading the fifth on this one…" I say with a quick smile. "But what's up? Reid gone statistic-happy again?"

She chuckles. "Isn't he always statistic-happy?"

"I suppose you're right. What can I do for you?"

"I was just wondering if you'd heard anything about Seaver."

I frown in confusion. "Seaver? No. Should I have heard something?"

"No, I guess not. I just- Well, I know I didn't know her very long, but I feel a bit responsible for her since I was something of a mentor to her. And I was just curious how she was doing."

I regard her with a skeptical expression. "The last I heard she was doing just fine… Is there anything in particular she might be having trouble dealing with?" I ask, not sure what she's getting at.

"Well, watching a man get shot in front of you is traumatic, especially if you're fresh out of the Academy..." she trails off.

"Hang on, how do you know that happened? You were still with Doyle-" I stop abruptly as the pieces fall into place. "Oh," I say softly in realization.

She shifts uneasily on her feet and avoids eye contact.

"Prentiss…" I coax, hoping she'll shed some light on it, but not holding my breath that she would.

She sighs heavily before beginning her explanation. "When Doyle found out you guys grabbed Fahey, he brought out a laptop showing a live feed of his sniper's view. He was ready to take out you and Seaver on that rooftop. He and I both knew Fahey was gonna talk, and sooner rather than later. I begged and pleaded with him to leave you guys out of it because it wasn't your fight, but he accused me of leaving a trail for you."

"So you told him to shoot Fahey instead," I say, finishing her explanation for her. I can feel the guilt radiating off of her. I close my eyes and exhale, bringing my hand to my face. Why did it always have to be her?

"I managed to convince Doyle that without Fahey you guys had nothing. Within seconds he'd given the order, and I watched you pull Seaver down and then Fahey fell to the ground."

"That couldn't have been easy."

She shrugs. "I'd do it again. It wasn't your fight, and you didn't deserve to suffer for what I did."

"I'm so sorry," I say, wishing that she didn't have to shoulder so much guilt. Blood on her hands was the last thing she needed to deal with.

"Don't be, it's not your fault," she says pointedly.

Her words spark a particularly troubling train of thought in my mind. If I hadn't gotten overly emotional in the interview with Fahey, she never would have had to put that blood on her hands. If I'd stayed calm and let him keep opening his big mouth, we'd have gotten her location earlier and could have spared her and ourselves those long and painful seven months. And chances are we'd have gotten Doyle as well. Instead, I let emotion rule over logic and set us back.

My face must give away my guilt, because the next thing I know she's asking me, "What is it, Rossi?"

"I..." I begin, but trail off, for once at a loss for words. It takes me a moment to collect my thoughts and form a coherent explanation. "It's my fault Fahey was up on that roof in the first place."

She frowns. "What? What are you talking about?"

"We picked up Fahey after we saw he'd called Easter over and over, hoping that it would give us a connection to Doyle in some way. It didn't take much of anything to puncture Fahey's ego and get him talking, but as soon as he explained what happened to his ear, I got hopeful. I got hopeful and started peppering him with questions about where you were, but when he didn't have any idea who "Prentiss" was, we switched to asking where Lauren Reynolds was. He read the anxiety and eagerness in our voices and our behaviour and realized he had the upper hand. He jacked up his price, and left us with no leverage."

"So you let him have a smoke, hoping he'd relax and open up his big mouth," she finishes, having realized the direction of the events and pieced it together with what she'd observed.

I nod in confirmation. "I'm so sorry, Emily. If I'd just-"

"Dave, there's no way to know if Fahey would have told you anything useful if you'd let him talk. Don't beat yourself up over this. I can't even begin to imagine how I'd be if one of you had gone off to take down someone like Doyle by yourself."

"He was already talking though. By the time I grabbed his ear and started threatening him he'd already started to give up information. Reid and I would've been able to get your location from him. We could have gotten there sooner and saved you from...all of that."

A thoughtful expression appears on her face. "Maybe. But I think it saved my life."

"How do you figure?" I ask, not seeing how she was so sure of that fact.

"Doyle was pleased to see me stepping away from the FBI agent that Emily is and back into the ruthless weapons dealer that Lauren was. The fact that I'd put that blood on my hands, to him, was a victory. He'd taken away what I'd carefully built up over the last seven years – my morality, my humanity. It was a lose-lose situation for me and he knew it. Either I was relieved that you and Seaver were still alive and had Fahey's blood on my hands, or I was responsible for your deaths and had your blood on my hands.

"I was stalling him as best I could, knowing that you guys were slowly piecing it together, but we'd reached his end-game of him wanting me to pay for what he thought I'd done to Declan. If Fahey was still alive and in your custody there's no way Doyle would have let me stall him that long. He would've definitely pulled that trigger and killed me, knowing that Fahey would talk and lead you guys straight to him."

I stop to consider her words. Maybe she's right. Maybe Fahey's death was what allowed her to stall him long enough to let us find her. Doyle would surely have known that Fahey would talk, and he definitely wouldn't have stuck around that warehouse long enough to be caught. He would've taken care of business and gotten out of there quickly and efficiently, especially given that he'd already had the opportunity to torture Emily.

"Maybe," I concede.

She offers a sad smile in response. "Please, Rossi. Don't let this weigh you down. It's done."

"I could say the same to you, bella. I can see the guilt you're carrying around. We all can. You should let it go. You did what you had to do, and saved our lives, and Declan's in the process."

She smiles again, but it still doesn't reach her eyes. "I'm trying to. It's just taking a bit of time."

"Of course," I agree. It would take some time for all of us to come to terms with everything, and let it go. But what is most important is that she's back in our lives, and our family is whole once again, hopefully never to be fractured again. "For what it's worth, Seaver's the one who put us on the right track to figuring out the Declan angle."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. You must've taught her something, because even with her sweater covered in Fahey's blood, and her hands still shaking, she managed to ask all the right questions to get us on the right track."

She smiles. "She'll make a good profiler one day."

"Only because she had good teachers and a really good mentor," I reply. It occurs to me that if the day ever came when Emily Prentiss wanted to leave behind the BAU, she'd make a fantastic instructor.

"Hey Rossi we've got a- Oh, hey Em. We've got a case, briefing's in a few. Hotch asked me to grab you guys," JJ says as she pops her head into the open doorway.

"Thanks Jayje. We'll be right there," Emily says before turning back to me. "I mean it about the guilt, Dave. Don't get caught up in what could have and might have been."

"I'll try not to, bella. But only if you promise to let go of all that guilt you're carrying around."

"All of it?"

"Yes, all of it."

"Even the bit about breaking my mother's $10,000 vase when I was 11?" she asks cheekily.

"You broke a $10,000 vase?" I ask. Knowing the tumultuous relationship between the two Prentiss women I can't say I'm entirely surprised. Although taking that relationship into consideration, the fact that she's carrying guilt around about that is a bit surprising.

"I may or may not have accidentally knocked it off a table," she says, wringing her hands together lightly.

I raise an eyebrow in response. "Did you have a good reason for this "accident"?"

"No," she says with a slightly guilty, but mostly proud grin and a quick shake of her head.

"Then you can hold onto that guilt a bit longer, young lady," I say in a decidedly parental manner. "Shall we?" I ask, gesturing to the door.

"Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnee," she says, rolling her eyes and sighing dramatically.

"Emily," I warn as a smile threatens to replace my narrowed gaze.

"Don't Emily me," she fires back quickly, holding up a finger in warning before breaking into a wide grin and laughing heartily. I smile in return, unable to hold in my laughter for any longer. We make our way toward the roundtable room, still laughing lightly. It occurs to me that it had been a long while since I'd heard her laughter, and that after seven months without it, it was really good to hear it again.

Really had to put on my thinking cap for this one. Hopefully my logic makes some semblance of sense. And of course if you get a chance, I'd love to read your thoughts on this one!