Oh my. This story jumped up over 500 reviews with the last chapter. Sincere round of thanks to each and every one of you who has reviewed!

Special thanks go to Shadpup, without whom this story would be dead in the water, and Annber03, who I can always count on for a lovely and insightful review. Both incredibly talented authors that I've learned a lot from.

A special mention goes to 123a456e who, according to my stats page, holds the honour of leaving me both the 1st and 500th review for this story!

A new perspective for this one that the one and only Annber03 suggested many moons ago: Jordan Todd. It's tagged to her final case in the episode "Bloodline" in season 4.

Happy reading (=

"The identity of one changes with how one perceives reality." – Vithu Jeyaloganathan

I take my seat on the jet and immediately turn my gaze out the window, my mind wandering away from my impending transfer out of the BAU. Instead I find myself wondering about the case as questions fly through my head. How many brothers did he have? Did he have any sisters? If he did, what happened to them? Did Kathy really just forget who she was? Is it really possible for someone to lose who they are? Is it that easy to forget your identity? How could she help commit the very crime she was a victim to?

"Oh, I know that look," Emily says as she slides into the seat across from me. "I've worn it a few times myself. What's on your mind?"

I shake my head. "It's nothing," I say dismissively. She arches an eyebrow, her expression telling me my words were about as convincing as water protesting that it isn't wet. "I just...I've been thinking about Kathy."

"What about her?" she asks, tilting her head slightly.

"I'm trying to wrap my head around it all."

"How she could help perpetrate a crime in which she was once a victim?" she guesses.

I nod. "Yeah."

"It isn't as far-fetched as you might think. We see a similar effect in the cycle of violence in cases of children who experience abuse. And there's Stockholm syndrome too..."

"I know. I just don't understand how a person could so willingly put someone else through what they experienced," I say with a shake of my head.

She smiles faintly. "I'm not sure it's ever something that we'll fully understand because we aren't those people. To us it's so black and white; what they're doing is wrong and therefore they shouldn't do it. But to them, I think maybe it's just their way of life. It's how they were raised and how they raise their children. To them it's the most normal thing in the world."

"But how did she get to that point? How did she go from a kidnapped little girl who missed her parents to someone who helps kidnap little girls for her sons?"

She shakes her head slightly and offers a small shrug. "All we have are best guesses. Like I said, I don't think it'll ever fully make sense to us."

I pause and look out the window of the jet briefly as I let her words sink in. "Do you think it's that easy to lose yourself? To forget who you are?" I ask after a moment, noting her concerned expression.

"I think it's the easiest thing in the world," she says softly, blinking slowly. The quick response is a bit unexpected. I'd have thought it was something a person would have to consider for a moment before answering. Then again, after doing this job every day, maybe those answers come a little quicker.

I frown gently as I consider her words. "How do you figure?"

She lets out a heavy exhale. "She was just a little girl when they took her. It's easier to overpower and change an identity when it isn't so established and deeply-rooted. Situations like this can have a very powerful impact, especially on the still impressionable mind of a child."

"I suppose," I agree.

"They can go on to live new lives and not remember anything that happened to them before they were entrenched in their new reality," she says thoughtfully. "They can get a fresh start." I bristle slightly at her choice of words. A fresh start? That usually carries a positive connotation... She seems to sense the tension and breaks the slight silence. "For better or for worse, that is."

I nod absently in agreement, but my mind is still focused on her choice of words. I'm making too much of it. I know she has a strong sense of right and wrong – I've seen it over the cases I've worked with her. I was out of line when I'd suggested on the jet that she was forgetting the human element of cases. She, perhaps more than the male members of the team, is certainly in tune with the emotions of the victims. And she seems to always advocate passionately for the children involved in cases.

"Try not to get too wrapped up in trying to understand why they do it. The reasons they give are never good enough," she says, breaking my train of thought.

"How do you deal with it?"

"With what?" she asks in confusion.

"With seeing so much death, hatred, and evil on a daily basis," I clarify.

She pauses for a moment before responding. "We remember the successes. The ones we've saved. The children we've reunited with their parents, the loved ones we've brought back together, the feeling of safety and security we've given back."

"Are there enough of them to balance it out?"

"Depends on the day."

"Well, I'm in awe of you guys. I honestly don't know how you manage to do this every single day."

"You've done good work too, Jordan. Don't forget or belittle that," she says seriously, her eyes meeting mine.

"A bit out of my comfort zone though," I admit.

"Trust me, this job is outside of my comfort zone too," she says with a small smile. "In fact, I'd be worried if it was in someone's comfort zone."

"Well, I don't envy you sticking around here and dealing with that kind of stuff day in, day out."

"I would imagine Counter-Terrorism isn't exactly a walk in the park."

"No, but it's different than what you guys deal with here. This stuff is more…personal, somehow."

The violent and personal crimes that I'd been a part of over the past few cases just seemed to have had a more salient impact. The crimes in these cases had wormed their way under my skin much quicker than the slightly more abstract and vague threats Counter-Terrorism deals with.

She shrugs. "I suppose."

"I definitely won't miss that. But I will miss the people. You guys have been great."

"You're headed back?"

"Yeah, JJ should be at her desk by the time we're back at Quantico."

Her eyes widen. "So soon? I thought she had a bit more maternity leave."

"She does, but I guess she's itching to get back. I haven't quite figured out why yet," I say with a half-chuckle. "But I'm guessing it has something to do with you folks."

"Well, I can't say I won't be glad to have her back, because I have missed her, but I will definitely be sad to see you go. Counter-Terrorism is lucky to have you."

"Thank you, Emily. For everything," I say honestly. The woman had helped me out substantially during my time on the team.

She waves off my thanks. "Of course. Thank you for filling in for JJ. Besides Rossi, we profilers are a bit lost when it comes to the press," she says with a laugh. "Trust me when I say we're very appreciative of everything that JJ does, and everything you did in her absence."

"Good, because even with my limited exposure to this job I can tell JJ does a whole lot that no one seems to notice."

"Oh, believe me, I notice," she says sincerely. "I don't know how that woman fits in sleep, let alone a social life with all that she does."

"Can I borrow you for a minute, Prentiss?" Hotch asks as he appears next to us. "I just need a quick consult on a case with a bit of French in it." My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. She speaks French too?

"No problem, Hotch," she says getting up from her seat to follow him to the other end of the jet.

I watch as Hotch points to something in the file and she rattles off something quickly, no doubt translating it for him. I turn my gaze out the window once more and mull over Emily's words. She returns a few minutes later and sits back down in her seat. We stay silent, each of us apparently content to stay within the confines of our own minds until a moment later when I hear her chuckle. I turn toward her and shoot her a questioning glance.

"I was just remembering 'God's gift to women,'" she says with another laugh.

"Ugh," I scoff. "That slime-ball was completely gross."

"Yeah, but I'd say we did a fairly good job of denting his ego," she says with a smile.

"Demolishing it, I'd say," I correct.

"If only. I get the feeling he was probably out again the next night working his so-called routines."

"Those poor women, subjected to his…whatever that is," I say wrinkling my nose in disgust.

"And yet, I've still dated guys worse than him."

"Oh, Emily," I say while shaking my head. "Have some standards for yourself, girl!"

"I know, I know. I did say, dated...as in past tense."

"Good. Keep it that way. And find yourself a nice guy who doesn't feed you bullshit about eye contact and brain chemistry. And definitely make sure he doesn't wear those ridiculous outfits."

She lets out a laugh. "Oh trust me, I see anything remotely resembling any of that getup and I'm outta there. And I'm definitely avoiding Atlanta clubs for a long time, if I can help it. Definitely don't want to come across him again."

"Ladies," Derek says, interrupting our conversation. "What are we talkin' about?" he asks as he sits down across the aisle from us.

"God's gift to women," Emily says with a smirk.

"You mean Derek Morgan?" he says, his tone every bit cocky and worthy of his "playa" reputation. Emily and I share a look before bursting into laughter. "What?" he says, shifting his confused gaze back and forth between us. "What's so funny?"

I shake my head, unable to form a coherent response. One look at Emily's red face tells me she's no better off.

"What are they laughing about?" Dr. Reid asks, turning around in his seat.

"I have no idea," Derek says, holding up his hands before getting up and heading toward the other end of the jet while muttering, "women" under his breath.

I avoid making eye contact with Emily as I try to regain my composure. When my laughter finally begins to die down, I turn my thoughts to what I'm leaving behind on this team. It is certainly an interesting group – each member with their own strengths and quirks, and yet fitting together cohesively somehow into something of a family. While it's been a challenging task to adjust to the BAU, each of the team members has been welcoming and helpful in their own way. But, the more I think about it, none more so than Emily. She had really stepped up when I'd gotten put into the proverbial doghouse, and I can't help but wonder why. Maybe it was from experience – she was the last one to join this team, after all – or maybe it was just the type of person she is.

I had expressed to Hotch that I hoped he didn't take JJ for granted, but the more I think about it, the more I hope he doesn't take Emily for granted either. She seems to be an integral part of this team, in a significantly understated way, and I question how well it would function without her.

Still more conversations to come. That said, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this one. I appreciate each and every review I get.