Thanks for the feedback on the last chapter, it is much appreciated.

We're back with Garcia for this one. It was inspired by a line from a song by St. Nothing called "keep", which serves as the chapter's quote. The song itself also served as my soundtrack as I wrote it. Give it a listen, if you so wish.

Happy reading =)

"I nearly lost my mind for a pretense; I nearly lost my life just for fun." – St. Nothing, keep

"Hello?" I answer groggily. I sneak a peek at the fuzzy alarm clock on my bedside table. 2:21am.

"Pen? It's Carm."

"Carmelo, do you have any idea what ungodly hour you are calling me at?" I grumble, a little angry to have been woken from my first good night's sleep in nearly 2 weeks.

"Yeah, I know. Listen, I wouldn't call if it wasn't important."

"What's up?"

"You know that brunette you're always out with? What is it you call her? Tall, dark, and mysterious, I think?"

I perk up at the description. "Yeah, what about her?"

"She's here."

"Okay…" I say slowly, not understanding why he was calling me about it. "And?"

"And you gotta come get her. She's in no shape to make her way home by herself."

"What do you mean she's in no shape to make her way home?"

"Pen, she's been here for hours."

Hours? But they'd just gotten back a few hours ago… Oh shit. "I'll be there in 30 minutes. Don't let her drink any more, and definitely don't let her leave."

"You got it, Pen. I'm closing up in a few minutes, so just knock when you get here. I'll see if I can get her to drink some water, maybe eat something."

"Thanks, Carm. I owe you big time. I'll be there soon."

I raise my hand and knock firmly on the bar's door, anxiously chewing my lip. This last case had been hard on everyone, but Em had taken it harder. It had the double whammy factor of involving kids and sending her undercover briefly. We'd all kept a close watch on her, but she'd seemed okay. Well, relatively speaking anyway. The team had gotten home a few hours ago after successfully catching the creep that had been keeping the people of Waterbury, Connecticut in a near constant panic. We'd all gone our separate ways to detox ourselves from the stench this case had left on us. I guess Em had chosen a more alcoholic route than the rest of us.

"Pen, come in," Carm says, opening the door wide enough to let me in before closing it behind me. "She's laying down in the back. Brought her back there when she just about passed out after I got off the phone with you."

"Oh, Em," I whisper sadly when we reach the backroom. She's stretched out on a couch, staring blankly at the wall across the room. She either hasn't noticed, or is just choosing to ignore our presence…I honestly can't be sure which it is. "How much has she had?" I ask, turning my attention back to Carm.

"Enough for me to know she's trying to drown some kind of demon," he says sadly. "You need any help getting her into your car?"

"Let me get back to you on that?"

He nods. "I'll be out front finishing cleaning up. Give me a shout if you need me."

"Will do. Thanks again, Carm. I really do owe you one."

"Pay her tab, and we'll call it even," he says with a smile before heading to the front.

I turn back to Emily and find she's noticed my presence – or maybe just chosen to acknowledge it now.

"'nelope," she slurs. "You're not bright," she says with a frown.

"That's not very nice, Miss Prentiss," I say, trying to gauge how cooperative she's going to be with my plan to get her home. I'm all too familiar with her stubborn streak, and have no desire to have to fight her every step of the way.

"Your clothes," she says, no doubt trying to explain her comment.

"You think you can sit up for me, Em?" I ask, a little overwhelmed by the fact that the always so put together Emily Prentiss was beyond plastered. From everything I'd seen, she could hold her liquor with the best of them…so how the hell much had she had tonight?

"Suuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrrrrreeee."

"Okay, nice and slow then," I coax her as I gently guide her into an upright position.

"Sp-spinning," she stutters, swaying slightly.

"Just give it a minute, Em."

"Mm'kay," she mumbles, her eyes fluttering shut and open intermittently.

"How you doing?" I ask after a moment when I notice she's finally stopped swaying back and forth.

"'m good," she says, nodding her head. "We going home?"

"Yeah, Em. I'm gonna take you home."

She frowns. "Pssh. You're not even gonna buy me dinner? You're a real skeezy date, PG," she says, breaking into a laugh by the end.

"Well at least your sense of humour is intact," I say with a shake of my head. "How are we feeling about standing up?"

"Let's do it!" she says emphatically.

I can't help but chuckle. "And you said I was the skeezy one. Careful, Em. I have a reputation to protect."

Slowly I help lift her up to her feet, holding her as she sways slightly. After a moment to let her get her bearings, we slowly begin to shuffle forward toward the bar area. She leans heavily on me to stay upright, but is surprisingly cheery. I'd seen her tipsy on a few occasions thanks to ladies' nights, and she'd always been a little more relaxed than her usual everyday demeanour, but I'd never seen her this drunk before. And for some reason, I'd always imagined a very drunk Emily Prentiss would be a real sourpuss. We continue to make slow but steady progress, eventually reaching the bar area, and then the doorway, and then my car.

"You got her?" Carm calls out unsurely from the doorway.

"Yeah," I call back as I finish getting her seated in the passenger side. "Thanks again, Carm. You're good people."

"Take care of her, Pen."

"I will, Carm. Okay, Agent Prentiss," I say as I climb into the driver's seat. "Let's get you home."

As we drive through the streets toward her condo, I can't help but glance over at her every so often. I'm really worried about her. Well, more worried than I usually am anyway. She isn't the type to get this drunk, let alone drink alone and get this drunk in public, so there must have been something about this case that was too much for her to handle. And after everything with Doyle, anything that was too much for Emily Prentiss to handle was a terrifying thought.

"Em, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," she says, keeping her gaze locked forward.

"Why'd you go out alone tonight?"

"Wanted to forget," she says simply. "I wanted them to take my memories again."

Them? Who was them? Take her memories? Questions fly through my mind, and I can't help the ridiculous thought that she was dealing with a Jason Bourne type of situation. The idea itself should be laughable…but she'd been in the CIA, and her past was still a gigantic mystery to us, so who knows – maybe it's not an entirely ridiculous thought after all.

I note that her voice is surprisingly clear, and her thoughts are at least somewhat coherent. I guess the fresh air had done her some good. Still, she was admitting her weakness and explaining it, and of course she wasn't making total sense, so the alcohol's effects hadn't all disappeared.

"Take your memories?" I ask carefully, making the decision to take the long route home. The fresh air was helping, so surely more of it couldn't hurt…

She turns to look at me, and when I turn to briefly meet her gaze, I'm startled by what I see in her eyes. They are dark and seem so…heavy, and it doesn't take a profiler to notice they're filled with pain and regret.

"What did you want to forget, Em?"

"When you go deep undercover, they take away everything from you," she says, turning to look out her window. "They picked me 'cause I wasn't close to anyone, and I was too ambitious for my own good. I wanted to do it because it went against everything my mother wanted for me. I did it just for fun, to piss her off. Even though she wouldn't know, I would know, you know? But they took everything from me, Pen. It wasn't until right before they sent me in that they reminded me of my home, my family, my life. I was so lost."

I blink as her words sink in. Was she describing her time with the CIA? Interpol? Was she describing the time leading up to Doyle? Or some other op?

"And then I was in, and I slipped so easily into each role I had. By the time they told me I was going to be Lauren Reynolds, I felt less like Emily Prentiss than I ever had. And it scared me. I told Clyde I wanted out, that I couldn't do it anymore. But he needed just one more, so I agreed. I never knew it was going to be the one that broke me."

Each role? We'd never been privy to what else JTF-12 had handled since none of the team has clearance for it, and Em certainly wasn't one to want to talk about it even if she could. What else had my raven-haired beauty been asked to do in the name of her country?

"You didn't break, Em," I say, glancing at her and finding a few stray tears dripping down her face that she's apparently not aware of, or maybe is just stubbornly ignoring, or maybe she doesn't care about. "You're here, you're alive. You're loved."

"I broke then. I swear I lost my mind. I didn't know who I was anymore. It wasn't until Declan that I remembered."

"Kids have a way of getting through to you like that."

"You guys saved me, you know. I was learning how to be me – whoever that was – again, or maybe making a new me… But you guys were there to give me a home and a family."

"And we're still here, Em," I say, reaching over and giving her hand a quick squeeze. She smiles in response.

"I can't go undercover anymore, Pen. Even just for 20 minutes. I just- I can't."

"Okay, Em. So talk to Hotch. He's not gonna make you do anything you don't want to."

"JJ can't do it."

"I don't think you're really in a position to judge what she can or can't-"

"Henry," she says simply, interrupting me. "She has Henry and Will. I can't let it take more of her humanity away from her, she's seen enough."

I let out a sigh. It was so like her to want to protect the ones she loves.

"I don't have anyone," she continues. "It just makes sense."

"You have us, Em," I protest. "And your mom," I add after a moment.

She looks out the side window once more and I'm struck by her body language. I may not be a profiler, but she looks so…defeated. Emily Prentiss is not the type of woman you'd ever describe as seeming small. She's confident, and projects authority, and is fiercely protective. All things which make her seem very far from small. And yet in this moment, she looks so small that it scares me.

"I don't think I can do this anymore, Pen," she says suddenly and my eyes widen at her admission.

"Things'll look better in the morning, pumpkin. They always do."

She doesn't respond, and we spend the next 10 minutes in silence. When we reach her condo, I help her into her place, and get her settled into her bed. I set some water and a couple tablets on the table next to her bed and plug in her phone for her, turning the ringer down so it won't disturb her.

"Thank you," she says softly, just as I'm about to leave."

"Anytime, Princess," I say with a wink. "Just don't go telling my hunk of chocolate we had late night shenanigans together, he's liable to get jealous."

She smiles and her head hits the pillow, her eyes fluttering closed. I stay for a few minutes, just to make sure she's settled, before making my way to the spare bedroom, figuring my own exhaustion had reached the point where I probably shouldn't be driving. And of course there's also the fact that I just can't bear to leave her alone in such a state. I shake my head sadly as I recall the depth of sadness in her eyes, and her comment that she wasn't sure she could do it anymore. Had the infallible Emily Prentiss truly fallen? Or was this just a stumble? I rub my eyes and wonder how the rest of the team is dealing with the fallout from this less than pleasant case. As I plug in my own phone with my spare charger from my purse, I make a mental note to give them all a call tomorrow to check up on them.

By the time my own head hits the pillow, I'm utterly and completely exhausted. I hear faint whimpers coming from Em's bedroom. I sigh, assuming she's fighting her demons in her nightmares, and wonder just how often those demons appear. Things eventually fall silent once more and I pull the covers up over myself.

"We're still waving those flashlights, Em," I whisper, praying that she'll be okay. "So you keep fighting."

Another quasi-heavy one for you. I really enjoyed writing this one because it drew from a few of the previous conversations, and let me delve into a topic that's been niggling at me for a long time. But enough from me. Thoughts? Opinions? Feedback? Let me know. I appreciate each and every review!

I've been working a variety of things lately, including, of course, more conversations!