A/N:

"Actus non facit reum nisi mens sit rea..."

How long can someone escape their heritage when it's all they've ever known? It's hard to abandon all that's familiar to you for the sake of something you've always been forced to live without: love, the most dangerous emotion any human can experience.

She ran from her ghosts but their haunting followed her and she relinquished all thoughts of her freedom and dreams of being her own person for loyalty and obedience - for family - with no fuss.

Siobhán Quinn knows what is expected of her in her solitary life and she has never had the need to question it - but when consulting overseas for a disliked Section Chief of the BAU, she meets someone and comes to the startling realisation that all that she's been forced to hide so desperately may be worth being seen after all.

DISCLAIMER - All characters from the television show 'Criminal Minds' rightfully belong to CBS and Jeff Davis.

OC face claims:

Siobhán Quinn - Jessica Chastain

Colm "Rian" Quinn - Brendan Gleeson

Saoirse Brennan, (deceased) - Rebecca Ferguson

Eughan Quinn - Michael Fassbender

Tadgh Quinn - Domhnall Gleeson

Caoimhe Quinn - Sinéad Cusack

Noémie Lambert - Anna Torv

I have tried my hardest with the Irish dialect, I apologise if it is far off.

PROLOGUE - OBLATIONEM

2011. VIRGINIA

EMILY PRENTISS

...

"Let 'er go."

She lost all control of herself when a familiar timbre rose into the heavy air around her - in any normal circumstance, Emily knew the heat would have pooled in her stomach at the mere resonance of her voice as soon as she had heard it - but she couldn't suppress the gasp as it escaped her lips. Her lips trembled as she stared, utterly transfixed and impossibly frightened, at the appearance of the woman who seemed so doubly desperate in that moment that it moved Emily to a level of uneasiness that she didn't think she would ever feel again.

Hair gloriously fiery, thick, and flaming as it fell about Siobhán's shoulders with her mossy orbs astonishingly bright, framed with those supernaturally lustrous and delicate lashes of hers that became illuminated in the darkness soon drew the attention of the man hovering in front of Emily even before her name had completely fallen from her lips.

Her heart clenched at the sight. How was she here?

She squinted, struggling to see clearly from the fuzziness blearing through her mind from where Doyle had dealt a heavy blow to the back of her head hours ago partnered with the agony of the new brand on her left breast and having just been shoved into a wall - Emily shuddered when she saw the knuckle-white grip the other woman had around her firearm, levelling it in his direction steadily.

Emily's dark eyes ghosted over her face, tracing her elegantly straight nose that was peppered with her perfectly unnecessary sprinkle of freckles that kissed her fair skin before finishing on her full rosy lips. "Siobhán..." Her voice practically shook.

The other woman's jaw ticked at Emily's use of her name... so familiar, so painful.

Doyle glowered, turning to fully face Siobhán as she edged towards him.

His thin lips were pulled into a crooked, charming smile as he regarded her softly, stepping closer to her. His eyes - shockingly crystalline - held her own gaze calmly. "Quinn." Emily sucked in a deep breath at the acknowledgment; Doyle's sardonically broad Irish tone greeted her almost playfully.

Emily's chest constricted as she sat kneeling, watching as Doyle gradually moved closer to Siobhán so that the barrel of her firearm was sitting, poking, firmly at his chest with its muzzle applying slight pressure. What would he do to her? She couldn't let anything happen to Siobhán. She couldn't. "Ian, keep her out of this..." She broke the silence that had settled into the basement, trying to shuffle forward as if to pull his attention back to her if it meant Siobhán would have a chance to escape. "It's between you and me, no one else."

But the pair of them ignored her futile attempts at trying to gain his attention again and instead, continued to hold each other's gaze as she witnessed a shared look of what she came to sorely realise was… mutual understanding settling across their faces.

"Ian!" Ordinarily, Emily would have cringed at the blatant desperation of the sudden shrill tone in her voice but she couldn't bring herself to register it properly at that moment.

Hearing his name, the man in question chuckled lightly and let his eyes glide over to where Emily had been left - momentarily forgotten - behind him on the ground. The evident panic was alight in her eyes judging by how his smirk only grew. "Dahn't be stupid, Emily." He gave a light shake of his head and stepped away slightly so that she could see the other woman beside him who had relinquished her defensive stance. "Siobhán 'nd I share a 'istahry."

As his words carried themselves to her, Siobhán lowered her gun and returned it to its holster at her side.

Emily glanced between the pair of them, ultimately confused about what was going on. Her eyes widened as Doyle reached for Siobhán's right wrist before turning it over in his grasp to unclasp the buttons of her black shirt that were sat there; even in the dim light glowing in the basement, Emily's eyes didn't miss the intricately etched traditional image of a four-leaf clover that had been branded into her skin. How had she missed that?

His thumb brushed over it lightly, "I ded wahnder when yer'd come."

"Always dancin' arooehnd one anahther."

Emily frowned, what did that mean? Had Siobhán known Ian from before, from his Valhalla days... the familiarity between the pair of them was alarming to the point where she wasn't entirely sure that Siobhán hadn't been spying on her after all this time. A question never to be answered... or asked.

Doyle dropped her wrist eventually but didn't allow himself to move away from Siobhán and instead, wrapped a soft strand of her hair around the pad of his thumb and frowned deeply. "Yer look a laht like yer mahther, now..." he murmured, almost lost in thought and Emily relinquished all control she had over her breathing, feeling her chest constrict sickeningly as she continued to stare at the pair of them, petrified with Doyle's softness.

"I'm soehrprised yer remember what she looked like," Siobhán mused although there was no hint of actual amusement lacing her words, her eyes darkening as she stared at him, evaluating him silently. "Dere wasn't moehch o' 'er left after she 'ad been blown oehp."

Doyle seemed to sober up then. "Collateral damage, lahve."

The comment made Siobhán smile - although Emily couldn't determine what type of smile she was going for, it didn't stop her from feeling sick to her stomach. "Den what am I?"

Her aggressor was silent for a few moments, the air hanging thickly between them as though he was trying to analyse her. "I never knew what yer were," Doyle admitted, moving to grasp her shoulders and forcefully patting her chest; Emily could only assume that he was checking that she hadn't been stupid enough to come wearing a kevlar vest. Emily grimaced when she saw him smile and half wrap an arm around her shoulder, "Liam dedn't see yer?"

The subtle shake of Siobhán's head was so slight that she might have missed it but that wasn't what made her pause; Siobhán's eyes were trained on her as Doyle continued to pat her down and she couldn't ignore the pained gaze shining in their depths for a split second before she was glancing away again.

What game was Siobhán playing? Emily tried to search her face to find some answers to her questions, to try to understand why Siobhán was putting herself in the firing line for her.

"Ian-"

Doyle stalked back over to where Emily was kneeling on the ground and crouched to kneel before her, brushing the stray strands of hair that had blown across her face away as any lover would do. "Rian's daoehghter is mahre invahlved dan yer know, isn't dat right, Siobhán?" he called over to the Irishwoman with another one of his sardonic smirks before looking back at her as though she was dumb. "Yer remember Rian dahn't yer, Emily?"

It took Emily a few moments to register the name in her memory as Doyle repeated it, memories rushing to the surface along with it. Did she remember Rian? Emily grimaced at the memory of that man in question.

It would have been impossible to forget the man - his sheer terrifying presence and formidable stance had never failed to move her to anxiousness at his unpredictability when she had been Lauren; he along with Liam had tried to convince Doyle to get rid of her at the very first chance he was able to. A smart man, Emily mused to herself.

She looked over to Siobhán with narrowed eyes.

Rian Quinn had been a great giant of a man, unusually stocky and horrifically powerful in how he conducted himself - it had been no wonder to her why Doyle had gone into partnership with him but what she found disturbed her more was how - if what Doyle was saying was true - he had managed to produce someone so delicately put-together, so elegantly robust and so dangerously gentle as Siobhán.

She took in Siobhán's appearance and tensed; Rian's hair had been the same shade of fire, floppy and untidy, often partnered with an unkempt, grizzled russet beard. He bore the same startling almond-shaped green eyes that were as unfathomably deep as his daughter's, his fair skin also graced with tiny powdered freckles. His voice had been low, a deep Irish brogue that had been both wistful and rich whenever he would speak - a sound that forever had Emily guessing what day would be her last.

Before she could carry on in her musings, Siobhán interrupted her thoughts to bring her attention back to her. Emily couldn't help but feel silently grateful before she confirmed her fear.

Siobhán cleared her throat, "Is 'e dead?" There was no ounce of emotion in Siobhán's voice which made Emily's frown deepen.

Why wasn't she around during her time as Lauren Reynolds... or was she?

"No, lahve, 'e isn't." Doyle rose to his feet again and turned back towards Siobhán, holding out his hand expectantly and Emily followed where his gaze was set to see what he was asking for and she blanched. He was asking for her firearm.

Paling, Emily's breath caught in her throat.

Without a single moment of hesitation, Siobhán unclipped her firearm from its holster and passed it over to Doyle wordlessly. "What a shame," she drawled out with a soft sigh and Doyle opened the magazine, emptying its contents before chucking it away to some dark corner of the basement.

With Siobhán now unarmed and as equally defenceless as Emily was, the latter's anxiety rocketed.

Pushing up from the ground, Emily propelled herself forward onto her knees before managing to stagger to her feet. "Ian-" she ground out through gritted teeth, grasping the edges of Doyle's jacket between her tied wrists as she met him quickly, forcing out his name as she bit back the pain. "Ian, look at me!" Emily winced when she felt his hand grasping her scalp, yanking her head away from him. "Just because I held a gun to him doesn't mean I shot him!"

She let her eyes meet Siobhán's then as she stood away from the pair, seemingly conflicted about whether to intervene or not, and her heart clenched in her chest again as she fought against Doyle's hand in her hair.

Resigning herself to what little choice she had left, Emily convinced herself that she had to give Siobhán the option to get herself out if it meant that Doyle wouldn't kill her as well.

"I only had to make you and the North Koreans believe he was dead," Emily breathed, feeling his fingers tighten around the roots of her hair, delving further into her scalp. She winced. "After... After your arrest, I relocated Louise and Declan... and then, I got a call," she coughed out before Doyle pulled back his right fist and dealt a strike to her lower abdomen.

She didn't miss Siobhán jumping forward at the movement, her hackles up and eyes wide at the groan that escaped her lips when Doyle punched her again, his fist making its mark higher the second time to meet where her ribs were sat.

With a glower, Doyle dropped Emily to the ground which elicited another groan from her, and soon she felt another pair of hands on her, snaking around her elbows carefully to haul her up so she was sitting again.

She smelt her first; the warm, all too familiar greeting of black plum, warm amber, vanilla and soft cedarwood filling her nostrils in one swoop before she had to even look in her direction.

Tilting her head so her hair moved from its place blocking her vision, Emily saw that it was Siobhán who had reached for her. She shuddered again when she felt her hands lingering on her forearms, her thumbs rubbing circles that were almost untraceable except for the light pressure there, knowing the gesture sought to give her comfort.

"Yer shooehld've known dat Declan wooehld've been added to de prahfile," Siobhán commented as though it was obvious, finally letting go of Emily to step away some distance. "It was ignahrant to assume ahtherwise."

Coughing to clear her throat, Emily glanced up at the man she had managed to coax into her arms time and time again, had managed to convince to love her somewhat, and sighed in defeat. Would there be any escaping this? "Interpol had sent back our profile... " She shifted so she was able to sit sluggishly on her knees again, "The head of the terrorism division wanted more dirt on you so they could break you."

Clenching his jaw, Doyle scratched at his grey stubbly chin in accelerating fury, his eyes darting between Emily and Siobhán. "So, yer used me sahn as a prahmotion!"

"No, I wouldn't let him be a pawn," Emily gave him a firm shake of her head, holding his gaze steadily as if he would believe her reasoning. "The things they would have done to him to get you to talk... but I knew, even if I didn't cooperate, they were going to find him eventually... so I had to..." Emily looked over at Siobhán at his side and she wished that she wasn't there, wouldn't be there to see whatever would happen to her.

In another blink, Doyle was reaching for her again, grasping the collar of her shirt and pulling her toward him roughly. "'ad to what?" he spat furiously into her face, his eyes had grown fierce and astonishingly pale in his apparent anger.

"I had to end his suffering before it could begin."

Doyle grimaced.

THUMP!

THUD!

Emily rolled onto her side as she hit the floor again, her body reeling from the now-distant impact of Doyle's fist that had connected with her cheekbone and the forceful stomp of his foot that had landed furiously against her navel.

Her chest was vibrating, her heart thumping painfully against her chest as she wheezed, sucking in ragged breath after breath as she fought against the throbbing. The pressure left her then and she was wheezing when the same gentle hands grasped her forearms to pull her upright slowly.

Siobhán glanced up at Doyle from where she remained to kneel at Emily's side, her hands a firm presence at her elbows to steady her as she pulled her towards her slowly to, what Emily guessed, was to shield her from Doyle.

Emily looked to Siobhán, finding that she couldn't control her staring as the other woman glowered up at Doyle, her threshold seemingly met with his treatment of her in silent defiance. She didn't miss the ever-present clench of her jaw before she spoke: "We'll find Declan, Ian." She shivered when she felt Siobhán's hands tighten in their hold around her arms.

"Ded yer know abooeht 'er lettle secret when yer were spyin' ahn MI6 fahr oehs?" Doyle's voice called out to Siobhán, a taunt laced with venom as the redhead didn't flinch, remaining stoic as ever. He inched closer, his eyes narrowing to impossible slits before he asked the question that had been hanging on his lips: "Ded yer know she was a dooehble agent?"

Shuddering again, Emily sucked in a sharp breath when Siobhán squeezed her arms again for a long, final moment before withdrawing from her completely and the cold air sobered her at the immediate loss of contact. "I knew as moehch as yer ded... I tried to lahcate 'im, I ded everythin' yer asked 'nd mahre boeht dere was no trace." Siobhán rose to her full height so that she was standing between Doyle and Emily, turning to face him before she continued. "We all assumed 'e had died."

The words settled quietly in the air as a soft confession that Emily had to fight back the tears.

Doyle rounded on Siobhán then as though a switch had flicked in his head, his hand seizing her porcelain neck in a single swift movement to wrap around it. "Yer dedn't try 'ard enooehgh." He bared his teeth, pulling her towards him and keeping his grip secure enough to restrict her breathing, his fingers coiling around it tightly.

Emily sucked in a sharp breath at the sight.

From what had been immaculate and fair before, Siobhán's skin had reddened significantly to the point it was a blotchy scarlet as Doyle held onto her throat to restrict her breathing, almost squeezing the life from her.

Emily felt her breathing cease as she took in the scene before her, the ache in her chest taking a new kind of pain: as Doyle continued to block Siobhán's airway, she made no effort to fight him off or defend herself as she silently willed her to do in the hopes that it meant she wouldn't die at his hands. Instead, her hands hung limply at her sides with her palms outstretched to the ceiling.

It was a few more moments before Siobhán even reacted at all.

"Yer... seem to fahrget... I was still based in... de East when... dis was 'appen..in'," Siobhán muffled out through gritted teeth, finally bringing her hands up to where his own was sitting firmly at her neck in an attempt to relieve the pressure there. "Tryin' to... h-'elp as moehch... as I cooehld... frahm where I was..." Doyle released her then, stepping away as though he had been stung.

Siobhán rolled back onto the balls of her feet, barely managing to steady herself as her cheeks ran with freshly shed tears from her eyes, the scleras of them blotching a shade of raspberry.

Her hand shot to her throat in an instant, rubbing as the blemished skin there that would no doubt bear a bruise of the attack in the morning, soothing the burning sensation that lingered there. Turning her head, she looked up at him through a half-lidded gaze: "I never met Lauren Reynahlds," she rasped out bitterly, sucking in sharp breaths to regain her natural breathing. "I ahnly know 'er as Emily Prentess... I dink... I wooehld 'ave remembered."

Emily's eyes glided over to her again, her brows arched in faint questioning. If Siobhán hadn't learned anything of JTF-12 during her time in MI6 and at Interpol, Emily would congratulate her for being one of the best liars known to man. A part of Emily wondered if Doyle was dumb enough to believe her as well. Oh, you stupid woman... And if Siobhán did know about JTF-12 and their movements against Doyle's rogue IRA faction, she had consciously chosen to not disclose anything to him which would have meant she hadn't been on Doyle's side to begin with... Emily's eyes slowly trailed to where she stood again, her breathing having finally returned to normal as her eyes followed Doyle closely.

"I dahn't believe yer..." Doyle rebuked, a sudden edge of warning creeping into his voice. "Joehdgin' by de way she's lookin' at yer..."

She glanced over at Doyle quickly to see that his eyes were trained acutely on her before she turned her head back towards the other woman. Siobhán's eyes had flickered to Emily in an instant and she didn't miss the unreadable expression crossing the redhead's face when she assessed her quietly, picking her apart before letting Emily see the flash of regret appear on her usually emotionless face.

Emily knew she must have been blatantly obvious in her expression of what she was feeling at that moment.

The redhead's face became an emotionless void as though she was reminding herself that she had to remain ignorant. "Shock o' betrayal," Siobhán acknowledged dismissively with a shrug of her shoulders.

"No," Doyle's voice called out, which was enough to call Emily's attention back over to him. Immediately, she was met with a narrowed gaze that continued to search her face almost curiously before he reached for Siobhán by the collar of her shirt, "I knew dat look wance... ahr at least, I dooehght I ded."

Siobhán remained silent, her words failing her as she looked back to Emily and gritted her teeth.

Doyle tugged on her collar again, wrapping the fabric around his fist so that Siobhán was impossibly close to his face. "Yer sure it's nahthin' to do wit why Rian sent yer away?" he propositioned lowly, his eyes watching Emily the entire time to judge her reaction.

Scoffing, Siobhán smiled slightly. "'nd why was dat, Ian?"

The same silence as when Siobhán first stumbled upon them settled over the basement once more.

Doyle begrudgingly tore his gaze away from Emily to meet Siobhán's verdant orbs that were almost glowing.

Doyle leaned away from her slightly, his eyes searching her face as though he was trying to establish what she was thinking or if there was anything readable on her face. "Yer dedn't catch wend o' anythin' when yer were at Interpol?" he dared to ask, his eyes almost menacing in the dim light that graced the basement as he demanded the answer from her.

"Yer've already asked me dis-"

Doyle didn't let her finish: "I dahn't believe yer!"

Emily's breath caught in her throat again when she heard the worrying sound of laughter rising into the air.

Siobhán didn't bother to suppress her laughter as it grew at the question: "If I 'ad known, I wooehld've tahld yer 'nd I wooehld've been de one to tell yer dat yer'd gahne sahft." She leaned back towards Doyle, her words hanging between the pair of them dangerously, taunting him.

"Rian may 'ave made de mestake o' sendin' yer away boeht I wahn't make de mestake o' lestenin' to yer."

Emily's brow perked up at the comment; the two of them stood so impossibly close to one another with their eyes trained anywhere else but at her in their silent challenge that she didn't miss Doyle loosening his grip on her shirt. Why had her father sent her away?

Siobhán nodded in finality, holding his gaze firmly. "Maybe dat's why yer in dis pahsition... by naht lestenin' to me."

Everything seemed to escalate after that.

One moment Doyle was grasping Siobhán by her shirt to yank her towards him and then the next, he was shoving her away so violently, reeling back his fist to deal several blows to her torso in a sudden burst of rage Emily had yet to see before.

Emily almost whimpered (but only just caught herself) when Siobhán brought up her fists to block his attacks, battling one fist away from her successfully but missing the one that made its mark against her jaw and the one following it which found its home at her hip which was enough to jolt her back with a rough jerk.

"Yer made de choice..." Doyle ground out, leaning back again to smack his fist into her cheek with violent precision.

Her face had previously been a delicate thing of soft features and smooth lines mere moments before but was now freshly bloodied, livid, and sore. Beneath her left eye, the skin had started to swell with the purplish welt that was growing there, and the cut that had ruptured the skin of her cheekbone was beginning to weep a shockingly arterial dribble of blood. Her upper lip had split like a ripe peach from where he had caught her swiftly and the blood from the smaller wound had started to stain the collar of her shirt in its escape.

Unable to watch helplessly, Emily tried to push herself off of her feet again. "Ian!" she called in a shrill plea, her voice tense as the Irishman's fist halted in its movement and he looked towards her briefly even though Emily assumed he was only humouring her. "You don't need Siobhán..." Emily tried to reason, her throat constricting as she forced herself to plead with him if it meant he would leave her be. "You have me, let her go... please."

TH-WACK!

Siobhán sank to her knees, hunching over to brace herself against the ground once Doyle's fist had retracted from her left eye socket, her breathing coming out hard and fast as she took hit after hit.

Straightening his back, Doyle rubbed his hands together before cracking his knuckles. "Come ahn, Emily..." The smirk he wore unsettled her stomach once more, growing wider as he moved to crouch down in front of her instead and reached out to wipe Siobhán's blood from his knuckles across her face so that the tang of iron wafted up her nose, making her recoil. "She's been wit oehs right frahm de start 'nd yer moehst've dooehght yer knew 'er so well."

Emily's eyes moved past Doyle to watch Siobhán struggle to pull herself back to her feet.

"After everythin', it toehrns ooeht dat Siobhán isn't dat defferent frahm me."

Laughing again, Siobhán spat out a mouthful of her own blood before she managed to find her words: "I'm nahthin' like yer, Ian," she bit out and wiped her wrist across her lips, breathless, her chest constricting as it fought to pump her body of oxygen.

"Never bein' a firm believer in Irish Nationalism doesn't cooehnt, lahve."

The world continued to move quickly: one-second Siobhán was racing to catch her breath and the next, she was breaking into a run to meet Doyle head-on which Emily knew was only being spurred on by the adrenaline racing through the redhead's body.

Emily winced when she heard the reverberations of two bodies colliding as Doyle disappeared from sight, the shoulder-to-abdomen hit making his back arch awkwardly as he tried to twist away from her, knowing that the sudden rush of adrenaline Siobhán was experiencing would only last for so long before she tired to exhaustion again.

The gun clattered from his hand in an instant and skittered across the floor into the darkness as the two of them hit the ground in a heap of limbs.

Emily could feel her breath catching in her throat.

Clambering atop him to straddle his waist, Siobhán balled both of her fists before learning back to drive them again and again into his face as Doyle glowered up at her. "I 'aven't come 'ere to reminisce," Siobhán managed through a groan, landing another firm hit to his jaw and grimacing at the pain when it ricocheted up her forearm at the connection.

"Den…" Doyle coughed, a bloody smirk crossing his lips. "Why are yer 'ere?"

The question was enough to make Siobhán pause, the blip giving Doyle the slightest moment of opportunity to bring his arms up from under her, forcing her off of him brutally before he pushed himself onto his side, rolling away from her.

Righting herself, Siobhán closed the distance again as Doyle turned his back on her for a brief moment.

The redhead lunged, reaching to wrap her arm around his neck before using one of her legs to sweep under him, the other wrapping around his hips and they fell again; he rolled with her tugging on the arm around his throat and pressing her knee up into his back.

"It doesn't matter why I'm 'ere," Siobhán muttered so only he could hear before looking up to meet Emily's eyes.

Emily held her gaze worriedly, reading the other woman's expression effortlessly as she continued to grapple with Doyle. Siobhán was giving her an out, the chance to run… the chance for Doyle to not get what he wanted. What did that mean for Siobhán? Emily's heart was clenching again.

Bringing up an elbow, Doyle shoved it into her ribs which loosened her hold around his throat, enough for him to gasp enough air to speak. "We both know why yer 'ere." He jolted her again, twisting in her grasp, and swung a blind fist into her side to throw her off of him.

Staggering to his knees, he reached to grab her by her hair and yank her towards him again. "Yer think yer can 'elp 'er, is dat it?" Doyle swung again, the fist connecting with her skull to make fissures beneath her already bruised skin.

Again.

TH-WACK!

And again.

THUD!

"After everythin' she's done to me!"

Glancing between the two Irish natives who were staring one another down, unblinking and trapped in a torrent of unbridled rage with one another, soon to reach the climax of what Emily could only guess would be an explosive extremity.

The redhead scoffed, an amused smile gracing her broken face. "It was 'er jahb!" She spat out the blood that had pooled in her mouth, small droplets dribbling over her bottom lip to tease at her chin.

Lurching to his feet, Doyle took another strong hold of her collar to shove her so she was mere inches from where Emily was kneeling, the movement violent enough to send her to the ground with a thud before he adjusted himself to then retreat into the darkness of the basement without another word.

Once she was satisfied there were a few moments of respite, Siobhán looked at Emily then and the latter truly saw her.

Her green orbs had glazed over, a fresh sheen of tears glowing on her beaten and bruised face which looked as though they were threatening to burst as she shuddered out a deep, long-held breath.

A shaky hand reached out towards Emily, moving to softly tuck the loose strands of raven hair that had fallen across her face in her sensory panic back behind her ear, the fingers a feather-light touch against her cheek as they lingered for a few seconds longer than they should have.

The touch was enough to make Emily sigh and lean into it, relishing the warm sensation of the other woman's fingers as they stroked her cheek absently.

After what seemed an eternity, the hand finally withdrew. "Yer 'ave to get ooeht…" Siobhán murmured to her, glancing over her shoulder in the direction Doyle had disappeared in mere moments before.

What was she going to do? Emily was convinced Siobhán was determined to make sure she got out alive but had no escape plan for herself. She couldn't bear to think of it. Swallowing thickly, Emily's tied hands reached out for her desperately and clasped the same hand that had withdrawn from her with a sudden surge of urgency. "Shiv, I can't." She wouldn't.

Siobhán pulled her hand free despite the resistance she met, "Yer moehst." Her voice was hard and firm as an icy wave to bring her back to reality, moving to busy herself with removing the ties at her wrists.

She was trying to save her - this woman, who had lied to them all about her past and how she had come to be, in her final moments was choosing to sacrifice herself if it meant Emily took her chance and tried to escape.

Shaking her head, Emily pulled her wrists away from Siobhán's reach and -

Footsteps echoed sharply, ringing out like a church bell to match the booming thump of Emily's heart that was rushing through her, and they knew that time was hopelessly running away from them. Swift, heavy but distinctive in their repetition, both women glanced in front of them and paled.

"Dahn't be oehpset, Emily," the redhead sighed quietly, throwing the Stygian-haired agent one last look of regret. "Yer dahn't like me, remember?"

She had said that, hadn't she? One of the last things she had said to Siobhán before she went into hiding from Doyle had also been one of the cruelest things she could fathom and what had it achieved? Siobhán had chosen to put herself at risk to help her even after how she had been treated.

"Siob-"

Choosing to disregard her, Siobhán gritted her teeth and pulled herself to her feet once the footsteps grew menacingly loud, straightening her back despite the obvious pain she was in as Emily tried her hardest to ignore the subtle moan that left her lips at the forced movement.

Allowing herself to reluctantly look away from Siobhán, Emily's breath caught in her throat again when she took in the tableaux before her.

Doyle had returned as they both knew he would.

He had come to a slow halt mere feet from them, his eyes staring at Siobhán, vacant of all emotion and keen in their observation of her. His bony, misshapen right hand fidgeted at his side in anticipation as the calloused pads gripped the object that had led him from them.

Raising his arm gradually, Doyle levelled the barrel of the discarded firearm at Siobhán with practised precision, casually flicking off the safety catch. "I dahn't need yer anymahre."

The redhead smiled again, inclining her head in amusement. "I know," she agreed lightly, refusing to look in Emily's direction.

"I'm sahrry, Siobhán."

The shot rang out through the air.

Chapter I Preview:

A new case is on the horizon for the BAU and much to Hotch's annoyance, Strauss is meddling again; Emily isn't sure about the new girl but Morgan may have found his new wingman - or, should I say, wingwoman.