A/N: Change of plans, THIS should be the second to last chapter. I might to decide to do an epilogue after the next one, but that depends on how it plays out. I wanted to combine this one with the finale, but I didn't like how it ran together and I thought it would be a bit cleaner and easier to read this way.

A lot of flashbacks/backstory in the chapter, so prepare for some time-hopping!

Her hand was bleeding. She lifted it to her face and tried to find the source. When had she cut herself?

/

"Mommy wake up! Wake up!" The child was screaming now as she shook the sleeping woman. "Daddy got hurt! Mr. Barry fell in the water! We have to help them!"

Still, her mother's eyes did not open. Molly sniffled and stood up straight. She wiped the tears from her cheek, but found that her face became even damper. Looking down, she let out a small gasp when she saw the bright red liquid.

"I'm hurt! Mommy! I'm hurt!" She cried out, throwing herself on the mattress next to Annie and clung to her. "I need a band aid!"

The blanket beneath her was wet, but warm. She closed her eyes and burrowed further into her mother's side. She knew by now that the blood wasn't her own, but she still quietly pleaded for the woman beside her to wake up.

She didn't like being alone.

/

"Flynn?" Her voice was hoarse from overuse. She refrained from shouting, not wanting to draw any attention. "Flynn! Buddy, come out now! We can play in the snow as soon as there's enough of it."

/

Her heart was pounding in her chest as she ran from one room to the next. Most all of the doors were closed, but she had to be sure.

"Flynn? Flynny Bear! This isn't funny anymore." She checked her watch. Nick would be home any minute. "We need to go in our room now Bubba! Daddy doesn't want us to bother him while he's working."

She paused when she heard a small grunt come from the bathroom across from the nursery. She had checked there already, but not hard enough apparently. Her feet were practically silent as she double-backed and dashed towards the cracked door. With a heavy sigh, she collapsed against the wall just inside the room.

The fire-headed rascal was poking his sweet little face through the shower curtain and giggling at the terror on his mommy's face.

"Oh my God!" Molly growled, lurching forward and snatching him into her arms. "You are lucky you're so cute!" She tickled his tummy and wasted no time in hurrying into the room she shared with her son.

The six-month-old was crawling and pulling himself up with ease by now. The day before, he had even taken a couple of steps. Molly quickly knocked him back down on his play mat when it happened though. She wasn't ready for him to be that mobile yet.

/

"Excuse me! Excuse me!" A shrill voice called from across the parking lot.

The agents were just finishing up with their assessment of the car when the nurse began shouting at them. They remained still as the short, rather portly, woman scurried their way. She waved her arms about as though they could have possibly missed her in her neon scrubs.

"That woman...General Laramie's daughter..." The nurse bent over and placed her hands on her knees, struggling to catch her breath. She gestured wildly behind herself. "One of my girls...saw her running out...the back door..."

Before the last words left her mouth, the group took off. Even Elizabeth ran in her Prada Boots.

/

"What do you mean you're taking her away?" She jumped up from the divan beneath her office window and placed her hands on her hips.

"We're not taking her away, we're relocating ma'am." Laramie's voice was flat as he rolled his eyes.

Elizabeth decided not to make note of his blatant disregard of her position and focused on the more important matter at hand. "And you have to take Molly with you?" She had spent the last six months getting to know the timid child and she was terrified to see her go.

"That's how guardianship works." Laramie toyed with the hand in his hands. "The girl is my ward and she goes where I go."

"And is that what Molly wants?" The Ambassador loathed the giant man before her. He only spoke to Molly when he was barking orders at her and he rarely used her name. She was just an asset to him. "She might want to stay here."

The General scoffed and rubbed a hand over his eyes, as though this conversation were beneath him. "As a mother, I'd think you would know that it's not about what the child wants." He raised a brow at her. "We leave on Sunday. She'll be over to say goodbye Saturday evening. We'll be waiting in the car, so she will only have a few minutes."

Before she could get another word out, he was gone.

Elizabeth sucked in a breath and ducked her head. Emily was in Prague with her father until the following Tuesday. She wouldn't even get to say goodbye.

She was going to be furious.

/

They were still about forty-five minutes out. It would have taken them twice as long to make the trip, but JJ drove and she had a shocking amount of lead in her foot.

Rossi, who had long since gotten over the shock of the blonde's road rage, shook his head as he scrolled through the forms that Morgan just sent to their tablets. "This man made her life a living hell. He robbed her of what was left of her childhood and forced her into a dangerous career." He summarized before staring out at the road-which was mostly a blur of black and yellow. "Why would he think that assigning Molly as his Power of Attorney is a good idea?"

"Probably because he assumed that she would have no issues with ending his life." JJ said. She had given it quite a bit of thought as well. "I mean, I'm sure he never expected any visits, especially from Molly. But he wanted to know that when the time came and they found a way to contact her, that she would make the call to pull the plug."

Dave smirked at the signatures below the account numbers and written instructions. Molly hadn't missed a single detail. "He didn't realize just how vindictive he made her." He mused. "I hope he lives another twenty years."

Never did they think that they'd wish for an Unsub (because that's what Laramie was in their eyes) to have more time. But if it meant he got to suffer that much longer, than it was well worth it.

/

The mug of freshly brewed coffee warmed his hand as he stood on the front porch, staring out at the falling snow. A patrol car was creeping its way up the driveway, its headlights bounced up and down as it rolled over the rocks and branches in its path.

Dave smiled tightly when it finally pulled in front of the house. He didn't know if the passengers behind the tinted windows saw him, but he wanted to be a calming presence regardless.

JJ climbed out first and she quickly turned to help Molly slide from her seat between Emily and herself.

The whole team had gone to the hospital at first. They wanted to be with the grieving mother as she made final arrangements for her son's body. And they wanted to be there for Prentiss too. Though she had never had a personal relationship with her nephew, it was obvious that the loss was affecting her as well.

But when the coroner told them that only three people could go into the room-even after badges were flashed-they decided that it was best to give them some space. The two female agents were the obvious choice for Molly's support system. And when Emily silently insisted that Hotch take the team to the safe house, he had to relent.

Rossi was still slightly amused by the Unit Chief's clenched fists and set jaw. It went without saying that his not-so-secret-girlfriend had him wrapped around her finger.

His beguilement disappeared when he saw the frail woman flanked by his fellow agents. Her face was drawn and her teeth were clasped over her lower lip in an obvious attempt to keep another bout of sobs in.

It was his intention to let them pass without speaking, but when Molly paused at the foot of the porch steps and turned to stare at the mountain just beyond the forest that surrounded them, his heart clenched.

"Come on Hun." JJ whispered, rubbing her back. "We don't want you to freeze."

Still no movement.

"Go on in." Rossi told her, throwing a look to Prentiss as well. "I can keep her company. Sometimes the cold feels nice."

Emily was hesitant for only a moment. But her face softened and she nodded. She knew that smothering her sister-in-law was only going to make things worse. She followed JJ into the house with one last squeeze on Molly's shoulder. 'I'm here' the gesture silently told her.

Once it was just the two of them outside in the snow, Dave handed the mug he had yet to sip from to the woman. "I usually take it black, but the whiskey inside seemed to be a suitable condiment after our afternoon."

He was making light of the situation, but he knew from experience that sometimes that was the best approach. And when Molly took the cup and rested it against her chin-inhaling the aroma of coffee a liquor-he felt his body relax.

They stood in silence, watching white specks float from the charcoal sky and dance towards the pure white ground. It was almost cleansing to see the filthy mud blanketed and hidden away.

"I'm kind of cold." Her hoarse whisper startled him.

Dave moved up to the top porch step and motioned towards the door. "We can go inside. I think Reid was getting a fire going." He offered, tilting his head when she didn't budge from her spot.

Her blue eyes were filled with tears as she turned her head to look up at him. "That was the last thing he said to me." She whispered, shrugging lightly as though she were giving up. "He was cold. And I had no way to help him."

For the first time, Rossi realized that she wasn't wearing her thick down jacket. And he immediately knew that it was with Flynn, wherever he was.

"He's warm now." He assured her, reaching out to touch her arm. He could feel her icy skin through the two layers of thermal sleeves. "He's warm and happy and he knows that you would have laid down your life to make sure that was the case."

And though she didn't respond to his words, with neither a look nor a nod, he knew he was heard. Because at that point in anyone's life, all words of comfort were absorbed.

/

They spread out through the woods.

Reid and Morgan took the left trail, Emily and her mother took the right, and Hotch took the middle area without a beaten path. They had opted not to call out to Molly. If she wanted to be found, they would have her on a jet back to Quantico by now.

"Boot print! Boot print!" Elizabeth's shaky voice stopped Emily in her tracks. She stumbled back to where her mother had stopped and followed the trembling finger pointing to the imprint in the mud.

"Could be her." She said, trying to remain patient with the stubborn Ambassador. "This could be a common area though. Let's keep going."

She moved onward, all the while knowing that this had to be the way Molly went. She wouldn't give Elizabeth the satisfaction of admitting that though. Even in their most trying times, she could not allow her mother to be right.

The three groups met up in a small opening. They exchanged similar looks, each giving a silent report. They didn't find her.

Elizabeth stated that she found a footprint, eliciting an eye roll from her daughter.

"That's good." Hotch nudged Prentiss surreptitiously. "We must be on the right track. Let's move."

/

The field was empty and quiet. Trees surrounding the area casted shade on almost every inch of ground but the very center. Only a little bit of sunshine remained behind the white and gray clouds, but it was enough to cast light on the little circle.

Her hands were cold, but she'd left her gloves in her backpack-which was still sitting on top of the shed. She could feel the blood dripping down her palm and it was warm for a second before it was chilled by the air.

"Flynn?" She wasn't raising her voice anymore and she had stopped genuinely searching. She simply stood there, repeating his name over and over, knowing that if she stopped she would be giving up on him.

Across the clearing, there was another trail that lead further into the woods. She saw no harm in wandering over to it, just for the sake of trying. As she got closer, she heard a sound that made her chest tighten. It was oddly soothing and had always been something she'd been drawn to.

She stepped over a few logs and through some overgrown vines. It took a few minutes to untangle her hair from a branch of low-hanging thorns, but when she stood up straight she saw it. Fast and majestic.

The rushing waters of the river almost slowed down in her presence. They seemed to beckon to her. Pleading that she jump in.

It had been so long since she had gone swimming.

/

The robe was thin and threadbare, but if covered her where she needed to be covered.

Running a towel through her soaked hair, contemplating when she should schedule to have it cut again, she padded across the hall towards the nursery.

She showered every afternoon at three. It was during Flynn's naptime and it gave her plenty of time to tidy up downstairs and prepare Nick's dinner. The schedule never changed, even the menu was unwavering-on Thursdays she made meatloaf and mashed potatoes.

A noise came from downstairs just as she placed her hand on the doorknob. Prepared to ignore it-sometimes Nick's buddy's came over to raid their fridge-Molly opened the door.

But as soon as she noticed the empty crib, the noise below turned into a wail.

And she had never moved so fast in her life.

She took the stairs three at a time, only stumbling once, before landing at the bottom. Her feet slid against the linoleum of the first floor, but she was unfazed. All she could see were the three men surrounding the playpen in the center of the living room.

Flynn was nearly ten months old. He was walking, talking (in very small fragments), eating solid foods, and sleeping through the night. Most importantly, he recognized his mother. And when he looked through the netting of his current prison and saw her, his eyes widened and he held out two chubby arms.

"Maw...maw-maw!" He whimpered, pushing himself to his feet and grasping the light blue edge of the pen.

"Molly, go upstairs." Nick rubbed his brow with the back of his arm in exasperation. It had been the first thing he'd said to her in months.

Of course, she didn't listen. Instead, she stepped closer. "What's going on?" Her eyes flitted from her husband, to her baby. Then to Caspbury on the left. And back to her baby. Then to Ellison to the right. And back to her baby.

No matter what, she made sure to keep her focus on Flynn, because his gaze was unwavering. He had been sobbing until she got down there. But as soon as he caught sight of her, he was quiet and fixated. Not even a year old and he had an unwavering faith in her.

She wouldn't let him down.

"Darling." Nick's smile was as off-putting by the term of endearment. Even when he was a good man and wonderful boyfriend, not once did they resort to pet names. They were always 'Nick and Molly'. "Go upstairs. We've got him."

"Why?" She stuttered, shaking her head. "Since when do you have him?"

"He's my son, Molly." There was that bitter sneer she knew so well. "I have just as much right to him as you do!"

"What's his middle name?"

"What?"

Molly crossed her arms, taking another two steps. "His middle name. What's your son's middle name?"

Nick scoffed. "Why the hell should I care?" He shouted, raising his arms up from his sides.

That was when she saw the overhead light bounce off of something shiny in his left hand. It was small, but unmistakable. Pointing with a shaky finger, she leveled a glare at him. "Why do you have that?" She demanded. "Why do you have your knife near him?"

The butter knives and plastic cutlery were even locked up, far out of her curious infant's reach. In the rare events where she spoke to her brooding spouse, she always made it clear that he needed to keep his weapons locked away. And when he obliged, she naively thought it was because a small part of him cared about their son's well-being.

He didn't answer her question. Instead he lowered his head, let out a deep breath, and lifted his eyes to stare her down. "Go upstairs Molly." He said between clenched teeth. "I won't tell you again."

"Not without Flynn." She remained calm. In the past year, not once had he succeeded in intimidating her. That sure as hell wasn't going to change when he was holding a knife over her son.

It happened fast. More words could have been exchanged, but she blocked them from her memory if they had. Caspbury came at her with his gun drawn, but before he could level it at her head, she lifted her leg and kicked it from his hand.

She caught the glock before it hit the ground and fired two shots. One between Ellison's eyes before he could fire his own weapon and another in Caspbury's temple.

Nick, who had seen the extent of his wife's work, wasn't really stunned by the display. He pulled out his own gun and pointed it at Flynn, who was now wailing.

"One more move and-" He didn't finish the sentence.

A bullet through the eye was the best way to shut someone up.

Before he even hit the ground, Molly was running across the room and scooping Flynn out of the playpen. The screaming boy had a small spray of blood on the back of his chubby neck and in his curly hair.

"Oh sweetie...Shh...It's okay." The mother soothed, kissing the side of his head repeatedly. "Did you get all messy? I'm sorry. We can do bath time early."

She turned and moved back towards the staircase without sparing her husband another glance.

/