A/N: The chapter titles are lines from the song "Bitch" by Meredith Brooks translated into Icelandic. I don't own the song or Criminal Minds.

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She didn't know that things could be this clean. Her fingers swept across the sterile sheets in her lap before they made their way up and across the metal bed railing.

No dust. No dirt.

Her lips quirked and she looked up at the man sitting in the maroon chair, watching her intently. It had been five minutes since he said something, and she couldn't remember what it was. Was it a question? An answer maybe?

She wasn't concerned. He had repeated himself before when he'd felt unheard. She had no doubt that he would do so again.

"Molly, how's your hand?" His voice was soft.

Looking down, the child smiled tightly and nodded. "I picked up my spoon this morning."

His gray bushy eyebrows arched; as though this update surprised him.

How could he be so shocked when he was the one who asked the question?

Molly wrinkled her nose and went back to studying her new sterile environment. "Thank you for the pillows." She kept her tone light, friendly. It would do her no good to bring the aggressive behavior back. There was no way that this old man would be able to defend himself. "They're soft. I never had one before."

He didn't comment on this. Instead, he scribbled something down on his little leather bound notepad as he posed another question. "Do you remember climbing on the rocks?" He peered over the rim of his glasses. "Do you remember the men you hurt?"

"They were trying to take me away." She tilted her head. "If someone were trying to take you, would you not fight?"

Again, he was left without a response.

/

"Molly! What's going on? Where are you?" Emily swung her wide eyes towards Hotch and put the phone on speaker in the consul between their seats.

JJ was just dialing Garcia when Molly's words stopped her.

"I'm at the gas station on 101 S State Street in Bronte, Texas." She sounded calm. As though she hadn't been going across the US mutilating some of the world's most reclusive criminals. "I've been...I did something...some things."

Prentiss nodded and let out a breath. "I know. We just left the motel."

There was silence on the other end for a few moments. Just when they thought they had lost the connection, a chuckle came through. "Of course you did." She sniffled, though it wasn't from crying. The tightness in her voice indicated that she was cold. "I'm not done. I'm sorry, but I'm just not."

"Molly-"

"Emmy, I called you for a reason. I don't need you to talk me out of anything."

"Okay. Okay." Emily took a breath; she didn't want to irritate her. That was the last thing they needed. "Are you okay? We saw the blood."

"It was just my shoulder." She made light of the injury. As though it were just a little cut rather than a bullet wound that had been riddled with scraps of metal. "Are they okay?"

They were lost for a moment, not understanding who 'they' were. But JJ caught on first.

"The boy, Logan, he just wanted to go inside and get his truck." She assured the fellow mother. "He didn't even ask about his dad. And Caroline seemed almost...relieved."

On the other end, Molly cleared her throat. "He hit her." She said crisply. "She was happy that someone else took care of it."

Prentiss bit back a smile. It was good to hear that she had a heart. She was feeling for Mrs. Bowles and wanting to protect her and her son. That was good. So good. "Molly, you kept them safe." She said shakily. "But you don't have to do this alone."

"Emily, please!"

"Sorry." She bit her lip. "What do you need?"

"I just wanted to tell you something." Her breath was uneven. She was trying to compose herself. "You just need to know that in case...in case something happens...What happened with Nick isn't your fault, okay? I know you. I know what's been going through your mind since I told you Flynn was taken. You're not capable of evil, so why would I hold you accountable?"

Cursing to herself, Emily rolled her eyes to look at the top of the windshield, staring at the stars as she willed the tears back. Maybe she hadn't been as in control of her emotions as she'd thought. Molly wasn't even a profiler-hell, she had just spent a decade in isolation-and she was able to read her like a book.

"The thing is..." Molly's voice caught her attention again. "I don't know what's going to happen in the next few days. It could get pretty bad for me. But I have to be sure that you won't blame yourself. I have it all coming to me. I'm not a good person."

"Molly-"

"I didn't say that for you to disagree with me." She sounded exasperated, but resolved. "People aren't always made to be good. I understand that. Flynn was my shred of human decency. He made me human. But after...after that...There's no going back. I can't be human anymore. You have to know that."

None of them had anything to say. It was clear that she wasn't looking for a debate-even though they all had their qualms. Finally, Hotch spoke up.

"I know that you don't want our help Molly and I understand that." He tried to stay firm but sympathetic. It was a skill that he had acquired over the years. "But you need to let us do something before other authorities get involved. They're going to act without knowing your reasons. But we know. We get it."

He didn't want to sound like he was placating her to get his way, because that wasn't necessarily the case. Sure, he wanted her to stand down and let them step in. But he also wanted her to know that they weren't against her. Because when someone was faced with the decisions Molly had been given, being treated like a felon could push her over the edge.

"Thank you for understanding Agent Hotchner but..." She paused, and suddenly her voice sounded far away, as though she were holding the receiver away from her face. "I have to go. I don't have a lot of time."

"Molly, wait-" Prentiss was cut off by a click coming through the speaker. "Dammit."

/

The sun greeted her, warming her to the core as she stepped onto the front porch. For the first time in her life, she was able to go outside without sleeves covering her arms. It was a nice birthday present.

She was turning nine today.

Before now, she didn't know that one celebrated when gaining another year. She had always taken the word for was it was. Birthday-the day of your birth. Why rejoice?

In this life, it was tradition. People preferred to commemorate every year survived. As though saying, 'Hey, good job! You're not dead yet!'

She had laughed at the idea at first. But when she woke up that morning and saw the wrapped packages piled on the dining room table, her heart felt strange. Vivien, the wife of the soldier who took her home, told her that it wasn't just to celebrate her being born. It was to celebrate the life she was living. As though this had been earned.

Molly nodded, and asked if she could open the gifts later. It would be better if she waited for Sergeant Malloy got home from work. He would have been happy to see her participating in the tradition he had been building up for the past month. After he had been so kind to her, he deserved at least that.

It took a brave man to take in a child who wanted nothing more than to kill him when they first met. In fact, if she hadn't been sedated on that hilltop, she would have broken his trachea. The fact that he was willing to give her shelter after that was definitely surprising.

Vivien beamed and agreed to her request. "Why don't you go play on the swing?" She suggested. "I'll make you some waffles."

Now, she sat on the two planks of wood, nailed side-by-side so that she could sit securely on top, and gripped the ropes tied on either side. The tree that it had been hung from was large and had long winding branches that stretched out, shading most of the large backyard. The Sergeant had put it there the week after they took her home.

As she swayed back and forth, basking in the warm sunshine, Molly glanced down at her hand. White scars lined the top of it. They ran along her bones and it looked almost skeletal. She flexed her fingers. No more pain.

That was nice.

/

The day of her ninth birthday stuck out to her more than anything else. She had spent the former part of her childhood being treated like a prisoner of war, and though she would never forget that either, what really stuck with her was that sunny day at the Malloys' farmhouse.

A swing made just for her. Presents wrapped just for her. A strawberry cake with buttercream frosting, made from scratch, just for her.

Never had she been greedy. But everyone liked to think that they were considered special at some point in her life.

Enough. She growled internally. Self-pity is for the pitiful. Another expression coined by the great Dominic Briggs. Simple logic from a simple man.

Headlights coming from the end of the road caught her attention. It was actually only one headlight and the orange reflector next to where the other light should have been. The sedan, an old make with grayish white paint and thick black door handles, pulled up to the curb of the liquor store.

Williston's was the name of the establishment. It was owned by two brothers, Chet and Clint Williston. But the two men who climbed out of the beat up vehicle did not match their very Texan names.

Italian's, from her experience, were very proud people who were anti-American, even after they snuck into the country. So it was funny to see Leone and Tazio Gatti strut through the front doors of their American liquor mart dressed in tight jeans, plaid shirts, and Stetsons. When they passed her car, she even noticed that their belts were adorned with large gold plated buckles.

She cringed and slipped her jacket on, trying to ignore the tingling in her shoulder.

A few minutes after the brothers disappeared inside of the front doors, she climbed out and hurried in after them.

/

"There! There she is!" Garcia called out, waving Spencer over from the coffee pot. He practically threw his styrofoam cup on the conference table, before rounding it to stand behind her. Penelope snaked her arm around and poked his shoulder. "She's in the store! Call Hotch!"

When they pulled up the information for the next victim, they discovered that it would be a double whammy. It didn't take long for Garcia to get the scoop on the Gatti brothers, who owned the barely successful store. Their American aliases were struggling as business owners in a small town with only a few people who could afford to buy alcohol in bulk.

They were relieved about the lack of business as they stared at the surveillance footage on her laptop. Cameras had been set up in the front and back corners of the store, giving them a clear view of the empty aisles.

Tazio, the short but muscular brother went straight towards the back office while Leone, the tall thin one, was relieving the young man who had been working the register while they'd been out. He handed the worker-who couldn't have been older than sixteen or seventeen-a wad of bills and sent him on his way.

The kid bumped shoulders with Molly as she passed by him to get inside. The redhead was shaking off his apology while Garcia was getting Reid's attention.

Spencer held his phone to his ear, watching intently as Molly strolled up and down the aisles, feigning interest in the limited supply of off-brand libations. A sharp voice startled him out of his trance.

"Hotch! Where are you?" He asked. "Molly's at the Gattis' store."

"We're still about twenty minutes out." The Unit Chief would have sounded panicked if he'd been capable of normal human emotion while on the job. "What's she doing Reid?"

"She's just walking around." Penelope responded for him. They couldn't take their eyes off of the screen. "She hasn't even looked at them...Oh!"

"What?"

"Leone sees her!"

The man was calling across the store. There wasn't any sound on the video, but from what it looked like, he was asking her if she needed help. Molly turned and shook her head, shooting him a friendly smile.

"It doesn't look like he recognizes her." Reid observed as Leone went back to checking the list clipped to a clipboard on the front counter.

"Are we sure it's the brothers?"

"They haven't changed a bit since their mugshots." Penelope wrinkled her nose before adding, "Except for their tacky clothes."

They kept them on the phone while waiting for something, anything, to happen. But for a few minutes, all Molly did was pick up one bottle after another, reading each label as though she were studying for an exam.

Five minutes passed.

Molly reached into the backpack slung over her left shoulder and pulled out a small black bag. Garcia's eyes widened. She could hear Spencer relaying the actions to their teammates, but all of her focus was on what the young woman was doing.

But before she moved out of the aisle she had been in, Molly looked up and stared directly at the camera overhead. She produced a second bag; this one was a paper grocery sack that had been folded up to fit in the pack. She held it up and stared intently at the lens, as though she could actually see the two people watching her. Nodding, she set the brown bag on the top shelf, hiding it behind a couple of tequila bottles.

She then stood at the end of the aisle. When Tazio appeared from the office, she covered his mouth from behind and touched a few pressure points. In just a second, he was laid out on the ground. It must have been done silently, because Leone hadn't even looked up from his work.

Molly stepped over the man at her feet and placed her arm behind some clear glass bottles on the middle shelf facing the counter. She swept what had to be five or six bottles of vodka off. They shattered against the tile floor, and that's when she got Leone's attention. He charged towards her, yelling something with a red face, but trailed off when he saw his brother on the ground.

Before he could make another move, Molly grabbed the top of one of the broken bottles and plowed it through his eye.

"Oh! Oh god!" Penelope screamed and took off her glasses to impair her vision.

"Reid! What's going on?" Hotch barked. Emily could be heard shouting in the background.

"She's attacking them!" Spencer winced, watching Molly remove a knife from the black bag. "Hotch hurry! You have to hurry!"

/

The lights were on inside the store, but only one car was in the parking lot. It was the one that had been registered to the Gattis.

Molly was gone.

Groans could be heard as soon as Hotch swung the glass door open. They weren't alarmed though. They knew who it was. They knew what they were going to find.

JJ had already called paramedics as well as the police. Both were coming from two towns over, given that the city of Bronte was so small. She reported that they wouldn't be there for another thirty to forty-five minutes.

Leone was chained to the railing that lined the top of the checkout counter. There was still a four inch piece of glass sticking out of his right eye and three fingers (thumb, index, and middle) were removed from each hand. They'd been laid out neatly next to the cash register.

Tazio was lucky. After she'd taken care of the older brother, Molly had started to lose steam. So she settled for tying his ankles together and hanging him from the chin-up bar extended across the office doorway. His arms had been cut up and were bleeding profusely onto the floor. But he was conscious.

"Cagna malata..." He muttered, shaking his head. His face was red after hanging upside down for the past ten minutes.

"Watch your mouth." Emily muttered, taking out her phone and checking for missed calls. She just wanted Molly to call her again. Give her an update.

Remembering Reid's accounts of what was going on in the surveillance video; JJ checked the tops of the shelves until she came across the brown paper bag that had been described. "Hey, over here."

The other two agents moved away from the 'victims' deciding that it would be better to just leave them where they were for the time being.

JJ handed the package to Emily, knowing that it was more than likely intended for her. Had this been an actual Unsub, they wouldn't have dreamt of picking up something that had been intentionally left behind at the crime scene. Not without a bomb unit or SWAT team in place at least. But it wasn't an Unsub who had left this for the FBI agents. It was Molly leaving it for someone she called a sister.

Prentiss holstered her gun, and took the bag gingerly into her hands. With shaky fingers, she unwrapped it and reached inside. As soon as she felt the cool rounded surface, she closed her eyes and ducked her head. She knew exactly what it was.

Taking a breath, she removed the urn. It was brass with a dark green enamel coating the outside. Flynn loved green.

"His ashes." Emily whispered, her lower jaw quivered.

Realizing the implications of this and what was surely going through her mind, Hotch grabbed her arm and pulled her close. The urn was now clutched to her chest between them.

"She just wants to make sure they're in good hands until she gets to safety." He assured her. JJ was well aware of their relationship, so he didn't hesitate to comfort the distraught woman. "She doesn't want to take him with her. She doesn't want him exposed to this life."

Emily nodded, biting back a small sob. She was tired. She was tired and scared. But the little kisses Aaron was pressing against the crown of her head relaxed her. They both knew that he was unsure of his words, but hearing them helped.

"Rossi and Morgan are here." JJ announced when a pair of headlights appeared through the storefront. Hey, break it up. Was her subtext.

They heard her loud and clear. Breaking apart, Emily wiped her eyes and gave him a watery smile. "We're going to find her." She said with a nod, as though it had been Hotch who had been having doubts. "At least we know where she's heading."

"Yep. We'll just follow the trail." Hotch smoothed his palm over her hair one last time before the other two men stormed in.

They had been briefed by JJ after Reid disconnected their call. She gave them the lowdown on what happened in the video and what to expect. Not that the two men really needed warning prior to stepping onto a gruesome crime scene. She just didn't want to hear Morgan's comments about Molly's brutality. He could be hot headed sometimes, and Emily didn't need to be hearing him exclaiming that they needed to catch Molly and lock her up.

But to her surprise, Derek surveyed the bleeding brothers and nodded. "She definitely gave them a run for their money." He commented, nudging Leone's leg with the toe of his boot. "I read up these guys. This one set a schoolhouse on fire in the eighties, killed six kids. And little brother over there, he personally enjoyed touching kids rather than setting them ablaze. They were sick bastards."

Prentiss curled her lip and leaned down to stare into Tazio's drooping eyes. "And you called Molly sick?" She translated his earlier insult. "I'm surprised she didn't cut off your dick." She was half tempted to perform the deed herself.

"We need to get ahead of her." Hotch said, his voice firm. "JJ, you stay here with Dave. You'll need to make sure that this remains out of the public eye. Morgan and Prentiss, we'll head her off before she gets to the next city."

The team nodded at their assignments before they split up.

/

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