Sapere Aude

by Ezeiel

"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. Emily Prentiss x OFC

5. ORTUS - IV

PART ONE - ORTUS

CHAPTER IV

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SEPTEMBER 2009. TURNER FARM, ONTARIO, CA

SIOBHÁN QUINN

...

If someone had told her this was how they were to supposedly stumble on one of their would-be UnSubs, Siobhán wouldn't have believed it in the slightest for the sheer coincidence of the whole situation - everything in her consciousness told her that - but to say that she would have thought her day would have transpired in such a way that it actually had was quite disorienting to acknowledge.

No less than forty-eight hours ago she had been sweeping the streets of Lyon in an unbridled rage and now, she was stood with her right forearm poised in the air steadily, unwavering in its aim, her knuckles stiffly buckled in familiarity around the grip in a ferocious hold as she lingered at the foot of the bed a few feet from her, Hotch and Rossi flanking her from either side.

Blinking slowly to ground herself, a part of Siobhán wished she still bore the sharpness of her stiletto nails to dig into her palms to remind herself that the scene in front of her was very real. Her newly short, rounded nails barely scratched the surface as she allowed herself to meet Hotch's growing scowl as it descended down his face - it seemed his own disapproving skepticism matched her own. Was this really happening?

Clearing her throat, she edged closer and cringed at the hollow scraping of her once-fond pair of military boots that encased her feet as Jayje flicked on a light switch from somewhere on the wall from a far corner to illuminate the room properly to them.

They hadn't really known what to expect when Garcia had given the registered address for the concealed vehicle they had discovered but it certainly wasn't what they actually found waiting for them.

Siobhán had never been a great fan of small spaces which she was well aware dated back to her childhood in Ireland with all the cataclysms (her preferred remembrance despite how dramatic it seemed which, she decided, was entirely unlike herself but befitting all the same) that had been woven into her everyday normality - so, lingering in the altogether cramped and poky farmhouse successfully roused an uncomfortable shiver as it cascading down her spine, making her skin crawl at the faint recognition from her youth.

The space they had stormed into was airless and narrow, overwhelmingly enclosed to match the eerie, bitter welcome they were to soon receive from its only occupant.

Lacking any warmth, the cluttered belongings thrown around the room had Siobhán frowning as she slowly took in her surroundings, casting her gaze around the tottering, rickety walls that were entirely unfriendly and jumbled. Allowing her eyes to continue to scan the room, she quickly saw that there was a laptop on the right-hand side of the bed that had been crudely erected in the center of the room, glowing brightly in the dimly lit room with the curtains pulled tautly across the windows to conceal the night.

She could feel William shifting behind her, peering around her shoulder to cast his own gaze forward, to see better. Perhaps it hadn't been the most suitable suggestion to bring him along with them in hindsight given how involved he was... she winced at the realisation that it could all turn very ugly very quickly if they didn't control the situation.

Siobhán sucked in a sharp breath and allowed her arm to lower, uncertain before she let her eyes flicker over to Hotch again. "We're definitely in de right place?" She had to ask because the incredulity of the situation was almost a bit too much to handle.

The uncertainty wafting over Hotch's face did very little to reassure her.

Crumpled rather awkwardly in the bed was a man observing them (a bit too closely for her liking) with piercing, round light hazel eyes, his orbs flitting over them in quick flashes as he took in the scene before him mutely as he attempted to process what was going on. The glint in his eyes was maddened, a slow-burning fire of indignation growing fervently in their depths the more he stared after them. His jaw started to twitch, made more obvious by the headset sitting on his head and over his ear with a microphone not too far away from his mouth.

Finally holstering her firearm, Siobhán tilted her head in intrigue before she continued with her appraisal of him. Was he paralysed?

From how he was propped up in the bed, it wasn't difficult to see that he was severely underweight from his spindly arms that were motionless at his side that accompanied his gangly form outlined under the sheet, skeletal and painfully thin; he was raw-boned with hollowed cheeks and protruding eye-sockets that made them bulge alarmingly, his hair was a rumpled, matted mess of black with a scraggy, patchy beard covering his chin and jaw.

Siobhán wrinkled her nose again when the same hum of sweat and foul body odour swam around the room. If the smell was anything to go by, it was obvious that the man had been unwashed for some time and that more than likely, his sheets were also soiled.

"Who the hell are you people?" His voice was bristly, almost like he was trying to be imposing and peremptory about the situation - Siobhán couldn't help but glance down at her chest where she wore her kevlar stating 'FBI' as though it was glaringly obvious.

Hotch, obviously deciding that the man was no threat, also holstered his weapon as Siobhán watched him silently assess the man carefully. "Did someone do this to you?" The question was careful, spoken in a hushed tone as though he was trying to gather his own thoughts.

"Get the hell out of my house."

From Hotch's right, Jayje spurted forward in an unsteady motion, her brow drawn together in a tight frown. "You're Mason Turner?"

The man sneered back at her: "Doctor Turner."

Rubbing a palm over her face, Siobhán shook her head in what only she could describe as disbelief as she tried to make sense out of the startling reality that their UnSub was a quadriplegic before sending Hotch a questioning look; in her peripheral vision, she saw Reid inch closer from her left and incline his head for a few seconds before clearing his throat as though he was struggling to find the right words. "Who did this to you?" he pressed, unsure.

Mason didn't miss a beat before barking back: "That's none of your damn business."

The likelihood of them getting any substantial information out of Mason Turner was growing horrifically slim with each passing moment as Siobhán got the uneasy feeling that the interaction was only going to grow more turbulent with him.

"Wait..." Jayje grasped Hotch's forearm to pull his attention to her quickly as she searched his face, "He's our UnSub?"

But he couldn't be... It just didn't make sense - he was in absolutely no position or physical health to be capable of abducting anyone, let alone move unaided... unless Garcia had got it wrong? "'old ahn…" Siobhán grumbled out in a grimace as she held the man's stare firmly, the door behind them creaking open as another set of footsteps entered, clattering against the floorboards to come to an immediate halt which was enough time for Siobhán to gather any logical sense of thought. "Are we-"

But she was soundly cut off when Mason was spitting again, his voice dripping with a sharp edge of derision as he spoke. "Who the hell are you people?!" His voice was louder than it had been before, all patience that it may have held a few moments before having completely dissipated.

Wanting nothing more to bite back in that moment, more so for the difficulty he was forcing their way, Siobhán didn't get the chance as she was interrupted again when she went to move closer. Feeling a firm hand grasp her shoulder, Siobhán glanced to her left just as William gently pushed past her with his left hand reaching into his shirt pocket to retrieve a small A5 sheet of printing paper. "'lliam-" She started, an uneasy tone creeping into her voice as her eyes followed him intently, worried that he wouldn't get the answer he was after.

It seemed incredibly unlikely that Mason was willing to help anyone.

The former sergeant stood tall as he neared the foot of the bed, his fingers tightly grasping the photo in his hand. "This is my sister, Lee Hightower..." William held out the same graduation photo he had clung to since they'd arrived in Detroit with his eyes narrowed sternly on Mason so the other man could see it clearly. "Has she been here?" he demanded lowly, his brow furrowing before he eventually relented and allowed Siobhán to push him back behind her when he was met with a resolute silence.

Unsurprisingly, Mason deflected the question and glanced between Hotch and Rossi, having chosen the two of them to give him the answers he wanted. "Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?" His voice had grown quieter as he had spoken but his eyes were no less panicked as they had been since they'd entered, buzzing around the room to take in everyone's faces.

It was Hotch who eventually yielded.

"We're with the FBI," the unit chief ground out through a clenched jaw, looking down at the man in the bed with a familiar guarded look before turning away to take in the room properly. "We've been invited by the RCMP to assist in an ongoing investigation," he called out to him firmly.

Siobhán recognised the faint glance of irritation finding its home across Hotch's features as he paced and she couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking... if he was worried they really did have the wrong person, if Garcia had let them down... if this was more complicated than it first seemed...

Scoffing, Mason seemed revitalised then and oddly emboldened. "Well, you certainly haven't been invited into my home. My Canadian home," he explained dourly, his lip curling upwards as his words dripped with disdain, seemingly offended by Hotch's choice of words. "Now, get the hell out before I call the proper authorities."

Unable to control herself, Siobhán let out a snort of amusement (although she was sure it was in disbelief more than anything else) and rolled her eyes before folding her arms across her chest, letting out a soft sigh of annoyance at the man's subsequent petulant behaviour. "Dat's all well 'nd good boeht we've been invited by de prahper aoehthahrities."

Eyes snapping to hers, Mason glowered before moving to speak again: "Telephone, dial number nine, one, one..."

"Nine, one, one..." the operator answered, "What's your emergency?"

Was he actually being serious? Siobhán scoffed, rolling her eyes at the childish display he was insistent on playing for them that had Rossi grunting in annoyance from beside her as he began to tap his foot impatiently.

"This is Doctor Mason Turner..." Mason replied curtly, his voice laced with haughtiness. "One, one, seven, one, two, Scott Road-"

Before he could continue, Bedwell moved and disconnected the call by pressing the hook switch that had Rossi smirking amusedly. "That won't be necessary, Doctor Turner," he interrupted soundly, a hint of smugness lacing his voice.

"I want these people out of my home," Mason rebuked with a glower, straining his neck to look up at Bedwell from where he was confined to his bed. "They don't have any right to be here…"

She wasn't entirely sure what set her off - if it was what Mason had said or his persistent refusal to answer any question but she was soon moving of her own accord. How she hated people like him… "Actually, we do," Siobhán challenged lightly, unable to banish the faint amusement from her voice as she idly stepped towards the bed with a small smile pulling across her lips. "So, yer best start talkin'..." She grasped one of his feet covered by the sheet and gave it a rough shake as she held his gaze steadily.

"Siobhán…" Hotch's warning tone met her ears immediately to pull her back to reality, his firm palm coming down to clasp her right shoulder.

Bowing her head, Siobhán gave a quick nod before allowing her eyes to slide back over to Mason. Stepping away from the bed reluctantly, she raised her hands into the air before moving to clasp them behind her back.

She was normally more reserved than what she had just demonstrated and by Jayje's obvious concerned expression as they caught one another's eyes, the others hadn't expected that display from her either.

She supposed it was hard to always remain stoic - even though Hotch demonstrated it impeccably on a daily basis as though it was the easiest thing on the planet - more so when their potential UnSub was being purposely difficult; it wasn't surprising that it irked her frustration to another level that had been so deeply buried she had almost forgotten she could be that way.

Rolling her eyes, she stifled a sigh before uttering: "Arsehahle…" she breathed out in a low murmur, cracking her neck as she contemplated if she would need to disinfect her hand from touching those sheets or not.

"Siobhán..." Hotch urged again, his voice sounding close to reprimanding her.

Bedwell turned away from Mason to face her and Hotch with an unusually thunderous look. "Agents Rossi, Hotchner…" Bedwell called out to the room to pull all their attention to him as he jerked his head in the direction of the door they had entered through moments ago. "May I have a word with you both, please?"

So, Bedwell was concerned that they had the wrong person? What an idiot... Just because the man was a quadriplegic didn't mean he wasn't capable of enlisting someone to help abduct and murder people for him.

Spinning on her heel, Siobhán ambled in the direction of the door to brush past the inspector with a grumble, tucking a few loose strands of her hair behind her ear. "Joehst so yer know..." she breathed out with an exaggerated eye roll, glancing back at Mason from over her shoulder before looking back to Bedwell with a narrowed gaze. "Sahmeone who's as shefty as dat blahke moehst 'ave an accahmplice. Dahn't be ignahrant."

"Not 'cause he's a quadriplegic?"

Siobhán gave a dismissive shrug of her shoulders as she shot Bedwell a look, "Dat too."

"Siobhán-"

"She has a point, Hotch..." she heard Rossi reason from behind her which alluded her to the assumption that the other man was frowning in disapproval at her utterance to Bedwell that was, in her unwavering opinion, very well deserved.

Pausing with her hand hovering over the door handle expectantly, Siobhán sucked in a deep breath and turned to meet Hotch's concerned gaze, holding it before sending Rossi a tight-lipped smile of approval. "Danks, Dave." She flashed a small smirk before gesturing towards the door, "I'll be ooehtside if yer need me," she affirmed under her breath, wondering how many dismissive inspectors they would be forced to work with on cases that would truly test her patience.

She had worked with plenty of Bedwells in the past to which each and every one of them thought they knew better and yet, by the end of it, they were sent running with their tails between their legs. It was repeatedly satisfying and yet, she was still frustrated.

Barreling through the front door in an absurd swiftness, Siobhán didn't bother to hold the door for the men trailing out behind her as she bounced down the steps to see Morgan and Prentiss wandering around the darkness a small distance away, the light of their torches flickering around the pens erected not far from the farmhouse.

"Quinn!" She heard Hotch faintly call out after her as though she was actually going to stop but she gathered that if she paused, it meant that she'd fall victim to a conversation she had a feeling she didn't really want to have and whilst she and Hotch were familiar with one another, she was still an unknown entity to him.

She wasn't there to play nice and make friends - she was there to challenge and invite a different way of thinking for the team… to which she had a feeling that Hotch may have forgotten how controversial she could be.

Running a hand over her face, she let out a loud sigh to try and help her regain her raging thoughts on how exactly they were supposed to find Kelly Shane with a suspect like Mason Turner who was seemingly going out of his way to make things more difficult than they needed-

"Red!"

Siobhán's head shot up abruptly fast; Morgan was the first to notice her as she wandered in no particular direction, edging towards them with the hope that they would at least speak some sense compared to the farce that Hotch and Rossi were being forced to hear from Bedwell.

Prentiss's gaze slowly followed Morgan's as he moved to meet Siobhán halfway, his hand falling on her forearm as he wrinkled his brows, gaze drifting behind her to where the trio of men were gathered, talking in hushed tones. "What's happened?" he breathed out, jerking his head in their direction with interest.

She was marvelled by the look of concern alight on his features.

Following Morgan's gaze, Siobhán allowed the small chuckle that she wanted so desperately to try and suppress slip past her lips at the incredulity of what had transpired inside. "Uh, well..." She trailed off, gritting her teeth in mild annoyance as Bedwell spoke rather animatedly with Hotch and Rossi before looking back at the pair of them in front of her as she tried to find the right words. Morgan was looking at her apprehensively which soon had her shaking her head, "Ded we... ded we prahfile ooehr oehnsoehb bein' a quadriplegic?"

Morgan's face dropped at her words, his head whipping around to look at Prentiss in pure shock at Siobhán's enlightenment - having been caught completely off-guard. "Well, I wouldn't have called that..." He gave a shrug of his shoulders, shaking his head in complete disbelief.

"Yeah, dat's exactly what I dooehght..." Siobhán added dismissively, rolling her eyes as she propped her arms against the fencing of the pen she was stood closest to before sighing: "'e fets de prahfile boeht Bedwell wahn't 'ave any o' it."

"Are you surprised?"

Siobhán looked up slowly to meet Morgan's gaze to see that he had moved; he was now leaning against the same fencing she had propped herself against. His arms were folded neatly against his chest and he nodded slowly in thought, "He's got to have a partner, then... someone helpin' him, at least." Thank God he wasn't playing Devil's Advocate.

"It doesn't make sense."

The words left Prentiss's mouth leisurely, purposely considerate as the brunette spoke which was enough to pull Siobhán's gaze to her.

Since having arrived at the farmhouse, she had to admit she had barely spared Prentiss more than two seconds of her attention (a conscious decision) - more so because she was quietly vexed by the woman's persisting need with her cutting remarks - Siobhán was entirely unsure if she was doing it to test her armour or because she found enjoyment in teasing the newbie. She found it peculiar to say the very least to the point she wasn't really sure what she was supposed to do.

So, when the woman in question spoke it took her a few moments to register her words.

Shaking her head, she finally looked at the brunette agent properly, narrowing her eyes skeptically, and slowly met her gaze. There was no challenge in them, thankfully. "Well, dey wahn't get anythin' ooeht o' 'im in a 'oehrry…" she offered with a soft shrug as Morgan let out a huff, "'Ahtch and Rahssi can lesten to Bedwell's boehllshit boeht I wahn't."

As soon as she had trailed off, she tore her eyes from the brunette and decided to stare off into the distance and contemplate what they were to do with Mason Turner because they had very little else to go on.

Nodding slowly, Morgan tucked his torch away and sighed in thought. "What makes you say that?"

The case was bizarre, so very bizarre.

Siobhán blanched at the question, "'e tried to call de RCMP ahn oehs… 'e immediately joehmped ahn de defence, deflected any questions... We can't let an innahcent man take de flack fahr whatever Toehrner's 'idin'." She glanced back in the direction of the farmhouse and clenched her jaw in frustration, "Sahmethin' seems ahff."

Digesting her words, Morgan went to open his mouth to speak a shrill yell reverberated from the nearby canopy of trees, rushing over to greet them.

Prentiss's head whipped around instantly, her torch's beam copying her movements to swivel around to dart through the darkness. Her eyebrows were drawn together in apparent confusion. "Did you hear that?" she bit out, edging in the direction of the woods' mouth.

"What?" Morgan pressed, following her gaze as he practically leaped from where he lingered against the wooden fence which practically sent Siobhán chuckling by the sheer way that he hurried in the direction, displaying such little regard for his safety. He had hastily retrieved his torch and was shining it frantically in front of him, his other hand hovering over his holstered firearm in anticipation.

Studying the vast expanse of the wooden canopy mere meters from them as if her life depended on it, Prentiss stuttered forward with her eyes searching eagerly as if she were trying to find something that definitely wasn't there which was encouraging Morgan to wander after her.

Siobhán had, without a single doubt, heard the scream that had erupted up from somewhere in the trees but there was absolutely no way of knowing where it had come from without the probability of losing their way should they choose to wander into its depths. They would have to wait for search and rescue, they all knew it.

"Was that a scream?" Prentiss dared to ask, looking at the pair of them with intrigue.

Why was she asking when she already knew the answer... why did she need affirmation? Pushing off from the fence slowly, the red-haired agent edged towards the looming woods lurking before them. "Sure sooehnded like one," Siobhán reasoned softly with a subtle shrug of her shoulders, wandering forward. She allowed her eyes to scan the view in front of her before wheeling around on her heel. "Good loehck tryin' to figure ooeht where it came frahm, dooehgh…"

Starting towards the rich brown earthen hues, the rustling of leaves erupted into the air followed by branches creaking and the wind whistling, muting whatever shriek may or may not have been there mere moments before. Siobhán paused as she surveyed the area in front of them and sighed, trying to tune her ears to see if there was any trace anywhere but-

"Anythin'?" Morgan called after her, bringing her attention back to him as he ambled over to join her, his hand coming to rest on her lower back gently.

If Prentiss noticed the gesture, she chose to ignore it from where she lingered behind them even though Siobhán was certain (to the point she would have been half tempted to bet some money) that the other woman was burning holes into the back of her head.

"No." Prentiss gave a firm shake of her head as she scoured the scene with apt interest and chose to altogether ignore Morgan's closeness to Siobhán. "I don't even know what direction it came from..."

Scoffing, Morgan gave a shake of his head as he stared off into the darkness. "That's another reason I hate these damned woods."

Siobhán gave a soft shrug of her shoulders and tucked her hands into her pockets, "Messes wit de sooehnd," she offered faintly, turning back towards the farmhouse with another suppressed sigh to see Hotch and Rossi still deep in conversation with Bedwell.

Why wouldn't the man just accept that the possibility of Mason having a partner was entirely very likely at that point and that it made complete sense for that to also be the most sensible option... they just needed to find his partner before they ran out of time.

"It could've just been an animal, we're all on edge..." Prentiss suggested, pulling Siobhán's attention back to her so effortlessly that it had the red-haired woman blinking to quickly ground herself.

The brunette was still staring in the direction of the woods, a strange uneasy expression settling across her face.

Morgan looked completely unconvinced and if Siobhán was being honest with herself, she wasn't convinced it had been an animal either but decided to appeal to the other woman's suggestion. "Prentess is right, Mahrgan," she considered with an arched brow, rubbing her palms together in contemplation before crossing her arms over her chest and letting out a weak chortle. "De woods in Ireland'll really mess wit yooehr 'ead if yer dink dese are bad..."

A part of Siobhán thought having grown up in rural parts of Ireland would've meant she was well-versed with being able to navigate her way through woods expertly but of course that wasn't the case and she also doubted it was a sensible option, too - to go roaming in unfamiliar territory that was utterly unknown to her.

Wagging his eyebrows, Morgan smirked at Siobhán. "You invitin' me, then?"

"Absahlutely naht..." Siobhán gave a soft laugh, patting Morgan's shoulder as he rolled his eyes at her with a feigned pout. "Yer've gaht to earn yooehr invitation..."

"Fightin' talk, I like it."

Throwing a lazy smirk Morgan's way, the redhead couldn't help but wonder what would transpire if she took him up on his offer... the excitement in the curiosity of what it would bring. But it wasn't worth lingering on.

The more time she spent with Derek Morgan, the more dangerous things became… it was like she had a little voice in the back of her head, daring her to ignore all sensible forewarning and build a true friendship with the man like the deepest parts of her was yearning to do. And whilst she would do her utmost to resist, some part of her - no matter how small - did want it, she knew she couldn't deny herself that.

It was startling to acknowledge how much they had in common with one another by-

"Well, that doesn't look good..." His deep tones interrupted all thoughts sifting through her head in an instant.

Siobhán let out a breath she hadn't realised she had been holding, secretly knowing that she couldn't afford to forfeit her job for any true friendship - no matter how fleetingly she may desire it.

Relinquishing those thoughts, she allowed herself to gradually follow Morgan's stare as it lingered behind her once she was ready, once she had grounded herself again.

She understood immediately when she saw. Her jaw set firmly, her eyes darkening into a glower when she took in the scene that had distracted Morgan: Bedwell was still admonishing Hotch and Rossi on the porch that led to the farmhouse in his belief that Turner wasn't connected with the investigation.

Even from where they were gathered mere feet away, his voice carried through the darkness to them - it was raised, alive with his evident disagreement in wishing to proceed any further which was no surprise. Snorting in slight amusement, Siobhán rolled her eyes. "'e's ahbviooehsly oehnder pressure to apprehend sahmeone boeht 'e needs to look at de facts," she remarked curtly, offering a dismissive shrug as Rossi started to argue, stepping into Bedwell's personal space with a darkened look befalling his face in challenge.

Hotch set a firm palm on his shoulder when Bedwell stepped away.

"You know what Rossi's like," Prentiss offered softly, also frowning. "He's been in the game a long time."

Judging by Rossi's reaction, she wondered if Bedwell had uninvited them. The thought made her laugh again - the whole incredulity of the case was laughable, to think how everything had transpired in such a short time... it was difficult to believe.

"True." The agent nodded in faint agreement, running a palm over his face before turning away from them with a sigh and frowning. "So," Morgan called out, jerking his head at a high wooden box before shining his torch over it as it sat constructed just off to the side of the pens they were loitering in front of, a bored expression settling across his face. "What's this thing, d'you reckon?"

The box was crudely built: slanted with a sloped top, its wooden body beginning to rot at the base - more than likely from all the weather it had been forced to withstand - it was roughly the same size as a feeding bin but then again, Siobhán wasn't too sure exactly what it was.

Opening her mouth to offer her suggestion, Prentiss was soon speaking over her.

"This might surprise you, dickhead," the brunette drawled out, sarcasm lacing her words as she flashed her torch in Morgan's face with a scowl. "But I don't actually know as much about pig farms as you might think I do."

"Could've fooled me."

Ah... Siobhán realised then. Morgan must have directed the question to Prentiss with the intention of irking her, baiting her to rise to his childishness which she had done easily enough. The man was chuckling to himself, trying his best to hide his smirk as Prentiss merely rolled her eyes at him.

Reaching for the torch pinned to her waist, the redhead slid it out and flicked it on which immediately impeded whatever was about to transpire in front of her between the other two agents.

Moving towards the bin, Siobhán tilted her head with interest as she studied it for a couple of moments before folding her arms over her chest, leaning away with the intention of pulling Morgan's attention away from Prentiss to allow the woman some peace from his torment even though she believed the other woman was more than deserving of it for her continued treatment toward her. "Wooelhd've said it was a feed ben ahr sahmethin'..." Siobhán reasoned eventually after a couple of seconds of shining her torch over it, glancing over her shoulder to see Morgan pursing his lips at her with an arched brow. "What?"

Shaking his head, Morgan shot her a smile. "Nothin', Red."

Turning away from him with a shake of her head, Siobhán shone her torch over the box again with the intention of moving away when something caught her attention, making her halt in her movements immediately - something which didn't go unnoticed by Morgan.

"What's wrong?"

Siobhán grimaced. She almost wished she had to lean in to be certain, to confirm her fear, but it was so glaringly obvious as it stared her right in the face that she didn't even need to bother. Trailing the light of her torch along the front of the box slowly as the footsteps of the others neared her from behind, she heard their shared intake of breath when they saw it.

Without torches, they may have missed it and they may have left the farmhouse as they found it but for some unknown reason, for some godlike sense of justice, they hadn't and for that, Siobhán didn't bother to subside the smugness.

Atop the rotten panes of treated timber, stained dry in a shade of carmine was a handprint. It fell upon the lip of the bin as though it had been made by someone closing the lid with little force as only half the print was present; its fingers were turned inwards like a claw as they had fallen upon the lid but it was there all the same.

"That's definitely a handprint," Morgan announced over Siobhán's shoulder before muttering a low 'damn' under his breath. "... It looks like blood." He leaned forward and inhaled through his nose before scrunching it up, "There's no smell to be sure, it's obviously been there a while."

"Well," Prentiss started, moving to nudge Siobhán's shoulder with her elbow, "You should open it."

I should, should I? Siobhán really struggled to bury her irritation as it surfaced at the comment, deciding that the best thing to do was to ignore the woman and simply play it off. "'ow jahyfoehl," the Irishwoman remarked with a groan. "Want de 'ahnooerhrs, Inspectahr Clouseau?" She let her words settle in the air for a few moments as Morgan held her stare, making no move to open the box despite all the bravado he liked to boast. Eventually, she gave an annoyed roll of her eyes and sighed: "Dooehght naht."

Shoving her torch back into its holdall at her side, she moved to grasp the lip to the bin, her fingers curling under its edge to get a better grip before looking at the pair of them from over her shoulder.

Hauling the lid up, Prentiss leaned over her to shine her torch over its contents but when she did, the three of them were soon letting out a gasp in unison. The bin held a vast array of shoes - all styles, colours, sizes and all piled high atop each other in the bin.

Stepping away, Morgan let out a shudder. "Oh, my God..."

"Dia ár sábháil," Siobhán bit out as she scanned the sight in front of her, her mind quickly trying to pluck a number as a guess as to how many were actually in there but before she could continue, she felt Prentiss's breath tickling against the nape of her neck from where the woman still lingered at her side. She hadn't realised how close they were and for a moment, she could feel herself becoming preoccupied with the unplanned closeness until she squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to concentrate on the matter at hand.

"It's just... shoes?" Prentiss asked, obviously confused before eventually moving out of Siobhán's personal space.

Siobhán grimaced again. Victims, her mind screamed the only logical assumption and then immediately, she was racing towards a very familiar emotion. Hubris. How every single part of her wanted to practically skip over to where Jeff Bedwell stood arguing with Rossi to take utter delight in their find, offering it to them in an incredibly lofty manner to make sure the man knew he was wrong.

But despite herself, Siobhán knew she couldn't do that. Righting herself, she allowed herself a few moments to banish those thoughts before casting her gaze back over the sight in front of her. "Dere's gaht to be at least a 'oehndred pairs in 'ere..." she guessed with a faint shrug, unable to shift the unease of the revelation despite the haughtiness she could feel rising in her chest. "'nd yer tellin' me Dahctor Toehrner isn't who we're lookin' fahr?"

Nodding in agreement, Prentiss was quiet for a few moments before she looked at Morgan. "We need to tell the others," she agreed and the man straightened, moving to take the hold Siobhán had on the lid from her and close it.

"William can't be arrested for this," Morgan added quietly.

That was all Siobhán needed before she turned on her heel, trying her absolute hardest to not break into a run in the direction of the farmhouse as she took off from the pair of them. "Ahn it!" she called out over her shoulder, her eyes falling on the three men who loomed ahead.

"Red!"

Siobhán glanced back over her shoulder to see both Morgan and Prentiss looking at her expectantly and she knew that she could've been better at concealing her egotism in light of what they had just discovered but the sheer realisation that there was definitely something worth investigating at the farmhouse. "Dahn't wahrry, I wahn't gloat... too moehch," she explained, fighting to keep her tone serious as she left the pair of them at the bin. Of course, she was going to gloat.

Quickening her pace as she neared the farmhouse again, Siobhán couldn't help herself as she saw Rossi and Bedwell continue with their dispute so she decided to lure the attention of the more reasonable member observing the exchange. The satisfaction was almost too much as she broke into a gentle jog, reeling in the fact that there was more to this place than they first thought.

"Aarahn!"

As soon as his name rose up into the air, the unit chief was swiveling around on his heels to look at her horrifically fast as a sheen of concern found its home across his brow, starting in her direction as she strode to where they remained on the porch. "What is it?" His voice carried to her as she came to a halt at the bottom of the porch steps, hesitant as he moved to reach her.

Holding the unit chief's gaze, she saw his eyes soften as though he wanted to add something - Siobhán assumed that he was troubled about their interaction earlier, how she had perhaps been spiteful and he had attempted to chide her in front of the others. But she didn't care - she was past caring, the excitement was too exhilarating.

"De bahx right next to de pegs-" Siobhán gestured behind her, watching as Hotch looked past her to see where Morgan and Prentiss were huddled together before he slowly looked back to her, silently asking for her to elaborate and all remnants of what apology may have been playing on his tongue died. "It's like a peg feed ben ahr sahmethin' boeht it's foehll o' nahthin' boeht bloody shoes-" At her words, Hotch's eyes widened in slow realisation at her words, quickly glancing over his shoulder at Rossi to see if their argument had dissipated but it hadn't.

If anything, it looked more heated.

Siobhán groaned, throwing her hands up into the air which prompted the man opposite her to take action.

Hotch cleared his throat loudly, "Dave," he called the other man to him, prompting their argument to stop. "We've found something..."

As the other men moved towards them, Siobhán gave out a sigh and gestured for them to follow her as she led them back to where the others were waiting. "All defferent sizes, male 'nd female... Yer know 'ow we said we were lookin' fahr ten pahtential messings?" she called over her shoulder again, catching the faint nod from Hotch as they followed behind her until they came to stand in front of the bin again and without wasting any more time, Morgan moved to lift the lid again to expose its contents.

She felt Hotch lean over her shoulder, a low exhale passing through his lips before he stepped away and turned back to her. Siobhán searched his gaze, realising he was appraising her for a couple of seconds before tilting his head in a silent question which prompted her to continue: "Dere's at least a 'oehndred pairs in dat din if naht mahre... We'd need to empty it to know fahr definite boeht - dere's a lot." Victims.

From beside Hotch, Bedwell inched closer so he was able to peer into the box. He sucked in a sharp breath, "These are..." Bedwell trailed off, scratching the back of his head in apprehension and Siobhán wished she could have pretended to be surprised when his eyes fell upon hers almost immediately. "They belong to victims?" he bit out uncertainly, seeking clarity.

But it was Prentiss who spoke before she even had the opportunity to.

"Possibly."

Possibly, Siobhán rolled her eyes at the response and tried her best to not bite back at Prentiss's response despite how much she wanted. They all knew what was transpiring at the farm - it wasn't hard to guess and the evidence was mounting up. "Look, I've never been moehch of a bettin' wahman boeht it's never too late..." Ordinarily, she would have cringed to hear her voice ooze with that level of sarcasm but they were past pleasantries, "Why else wooehld dey be dere?"

"How many?" Rossi dared to ask, his eyes never leaving Bedwell as he asked the question.

Siobhán shrugged dismissively, rising onto the balls of her feet to quickly glance into the bin again. "'aven't a baldy... dread to dink, to be 'ahnest."

In his utter confusion, Bedwell threw his eyes in Rossi's direction - ultimately seeking his advice despite having questioned it completely mere moments ago - as he attempted to understand.

How sweet, Siobhán internally mused as she shared a knowing look with Hotch.

"But why just the shoes?" Bedwell pressed, the perplex alight in his eyes. "Where are the bodies?"

He did have a fair point despite being an idiot, Siobhán reasoned with herself as she contemplated Bedwell's question. They had yet to find a single body… but at least they had grounds to continue with their investigation.

"I don't think there's going to be any bodies, guys."

Siobhán wheeled around when she heard Reid's voice break the uneasy silence that had started to linger in the wake of Bedwell's questions. The gangly man wasn't standing too far away from them, lingering in front of a pig pen with a dark look on his face.

Was it really worse than they originally thought? She found herself wandering over to where he stood before she could really assess her own movements, reaching out to set her right palm on his forearm to pull his attention to her. "Reid..." His name left her lips in a quiet murmur; she felt her eyes narrow as she observed him.

Since his recklessness with the Anthrax case only two weeks prior, Siobhán knew she would be lying to herself if she didn't admit that she was concerned he'd do something similar given the chance… but more so, the young doctor didn't speak of it and was entirely dismissive as though none of it had even happened.

She wasn't entirely sure how he had even passed his physical evaluation once he'd been discharged from hospital but judging by everyone's reaction to it, it definitely wasn't the first time something like this had happened.

The young doctor looked spooked, jolting when he realised she had touched him and that alone was enough to send a shiver down her spine. Siobhán went to retract her hand but instead, let her grip tighten, applying more pressure to her hold. She definitely didn't like where this was going.

From somewhere behind her, Hotch edged forward towards the young doctor although this time his eyes were alight with worry more than anything. "What makes you say that, Reid?" The unit chief softly called out to him.

Reid kept his attention on the pens in front of him and let out a deep sigh, trying his hardest to ignore Siobhán's hand on his arm. "Pigs are omnivores."

Oh, shit… Siobhán paled at the realisation, her eyes widening. "As ucht dé…" she breathed out, her hand falling to hang limply at her side.

"You really think that?" Hotch added quietly, holding the young doctor's gaze as it came to stop a little way from the pen with a grimace - he had clearly reached the same conclusion she had.

Looking at the pen, she let out a sigh and wondered how on Earth they were expected to recover anything in the… muck? She frowned, "That's a first…" Apparently, for everyone.

If it actually transpired to be this way, she'd hand it to Turner for going to all those lengths to dispose of any and all evidence…

"At this rate," Morgan called out, his voice rising into the uneasy air. "Anythin''s game."

"Morgan's right," Rossi agreed with a firm nod of his head, his own eyes trailing to the pig pen. "Reid could be onto something…"

Visibly confused, Bedwell looked to Rossi again. "What?" he murmured lowly.

"They'll eat anything and by anything, I mean anything."

Shuddering at the words, Siobhán saw little point in trying to remain modest any longer and instead, she gave in to her own hubristic need. Slowly turning around again, it didn't take long for the Irishwoman to find Bedwell's gaze amongst all the familiar faces. "Believe oehs now?" Siobhán called over to the inspector, her tone almost playful from the look Hotch quickly shot her to confirm it but she couldn't bring herself to feel bad about it.

It was an amusing feat - proving law enforcement wrong but what she found was even more amusing, was the slow smirk playing on Emily Prentiss's face when their eyes connected.

What was the woman's game?

...

"No more lies!"

Her red hair flashed over her face in the direction of where the voice had risen from into the air: a little distance away from where she stood loitering against the fences for one of the pens, Siobhán was unsurprised when she sat Prentiss stood with a newly uncuffed William, an argument brewing on the horizon.

As she narrowed her gaze, she could see the visible confusion alight on his face as he conversed with the other agent, demanding that she tell him the truth about what was going on. Prentiss was showing a substantial amount of restraint which Siobhán found herself rather impressed with.

Pushing off from the fence, Siobhán knew she needed to speak with Hotch about what all this now meant but also how keeping William with them presented an even greater risk - if Mason did turn out to be as involved as they thought, they needed to remove William. It wasn't a hard choice to make.

Sighing, Siobhán started in the direction of the unit chief but she didn't get very far - her eyes fell on the scene as it unfolded before her: Prentiss reached to grab for William's arm when his eyes fell on her. "Willi-"

"Agent Quinn!" the man exclaimed in desperation, "Did you find my sister?" he all but demanded with a renewed level of graveness to his voice, his tones alone pulling Siobhán over to them from where she had been moving toward the farmhouse.

Her presence, though, was apparently unwanted by Prentiss.

Glaring past the man's shoulder at Siobhán, Prentiss jogged after him in her direction. "Agent Quinn," she addressed her peer formally, clearing her throat to try and appear reserved which almost roused a chuckle from her at Prentiss's pettiness. "I've got this-"

But William wasn't having any of it, choosing to interrupt Prentiss to start in the direction of Siobhán as she slowed in her movements. "Did you find my sister?" The hopeful tone rising in his voice was enough to make her still, guilt rising in the pit of her stomach at the repeated question.

Siobhán's eyes trailed over to Prentiss who flashed her a glower, a silent warning to not say anything but was the woman really a threat to her?

Frowning in return, Siobhán turned to look at William and sighed, deciding to appease Prentiss somewhat. "No, we 'aven't found Lee," she offered carefully, hovering awkwardly between the pair of them as she continued to feel the heat of Prentiss's gaze.

Her words, of course, didn't settle his concerns in the slightest. "Then what isn't Agent Prentiss telling me?" William demanded, his hands balling into fists in sheer frustration as he glanced over at the brunette again, his forehead puckering.

Nodding in understanding, Siobhán knew he wouldn't take a simple explanation as an answer to appease him or settle his worry. "De ahdds dat Masahn Toehrner is one o' ooehr soehspects are as good as nahne, so-"

"So, what are you saying?" William pressed his interjection, the urgency in his voice only growing as he searched Siobhán's face as if he would find the answer there. "Lee is here somewhere?"

Siobhán clenched her jaw, conflicted.

How to put it delicately… Siobhán tilted her head as she mulled over her words, unsure of how to begin when he had been so invested in finding Lee and the likelihood that she was dead was growing more plausible with each passing moment. Hell, Siobhán was certain she was dead. "We wahn't know anythin' mahre oehntil we fend 'is partner boeht I need to ask yer sahmethin' 'nd I need yer to try 'nd be as ahbjective as pahsseble abooeht it…"

As she said the words, she heard Prentiss suck in a sharp breath from her side which prompted William to glance over at her for a split second before meeting Siobhán's gaze again. Risking it, Siobhán looked to the brunette and saw the severity in her gaze which screamed that she clearly wasn't impressed. What else am I meant to do? Lie to him?

William glanced between the both of them, "What is it?"

Blanching, a part of Siobhán realised that it was a good time as any to ask William something that he would have to answer eventually and whilst it wasn't something she wanted to ask, she knew it was far better to get it out of the way at that moment rather than prolong him any further torment.

The difficult aspect was figuring out how to phrase it. Prentiss's wavering silence made it quite clear that she wasn't about to help her in any way given that William's attention was solely directed at Siobhán, leaving her little choice but to be the one to break the news to him that possibly, possibly, his sister may be dead.

Running a palm through her hair, the redhead scrunched her nose up before sighing in defeat. Here goes nothing… "Wooehld yer 'appen to know what kend o' shoes she was wearin' when she went messin'?"

Obviously not understanding what she had said, William was soon opening his mouth to speak in reply: "She was…" he trailed off, slowly registering her words as she had said them, blinking slowly in perplex. "Shoes?" he murmured with a frown, a slow realisation crossing his features.

Stepping closer to the sergeant, she offered him a sympathetic smile. "If yer can't, it's ahkay…"

"What are you saying?"

There was always a level of reluctance when deciding whether to be honest with someone who was so closely linked to an investigation - would it do more harm than good? Would it tip them over the edge?

The list could go on but Siobhán decided that William was invested for the long haul, he needed to know… "It's wahrse dan we ahriginally dooehght so I'm goin' to need yer to troehst oehs," she explained as she held his gaze, Siobhán stepped closer to William and tried to ignore the feeling of Prentiss's eyes on her as she did. "We'll keep yer oehpdated, I prahmise."

With that, Siobhán gave a soft squeeze to the arm closest to her to try and reassure him before stepping away from William with a soft sigh, bowing her head with the intention of returning to the group now that she felt she had more control over her thoughts, leave William to his own and convince Hotch to have him removed before-

"Quinn!"

Siobhán slowed to an immediate halt when her name was called.

She tried her best to not frown when she heard the sound of Prentiss's voice carrying through the air to meet her ears. Letting out a heavy sigh, Siobhán wheeled around on her heel carefully to see the brunette bearing a blatant disgruntled expression on her usually reserved features.

Her arms were woven across her chest, her FBI vest obscuring the cherry red round-neck long sleeve she wore and she looked entirely choleric as she let out an exasperated puff of air from her pursed lips.

Here we go... Stifling the groan that she could feel rising up into her throat, Siobhán offered her a tight-lipped smile through a clenched jaw instead and held her hardened gaze. "What's oehp?" the redhead quizzed lightly, tilting her head to the side and consciously choosing not to move any closer to Prentiss given the apparent vexation reverberating from her.

"I could've handled it." There was an unsettling coolness in Prentiss's voice that Siobhán hadn't heard directed at her before although, she found she wasn't overly surprised.

Oh, she's annoyed because of William, Siobhán mused as she remained quiet. Sensing the irritation radiating off of Prentiss as plain as it was to understand that there was more going on at the farmhouse than they originally thought, she realised she had two options to run with - either, she could play into Emily's hand that had been offered or she could probe her further... She decided playing the fool would be the far more amusing option.

"Pardahn?"

It had its desired effect.

Prentiss's face contorted in what Siobhán guessed was similar to that of contempt which in reflection was ludicrous. The woman barely knew her - she had no solid ground to hold her in that regard. She almost snorted.

Folding her arms over her chest, Prentiss stepped forward to close the distance. "You didn't need to take over." Her voice had hardened in the moments of her quietness and Siobhán would be lying if she didn't feel the chill that rippled up her spine. She also didn't miss that way her eyes narrowing darkly before she added: "I could've handled it on my own."

How petty, Siobhán let out a soft chuckle as she brought her palm up to her lips to attempt to mask it but she wanted Prentiss to see it.

Sensing the tension rising from the other woman, Siobhán took a deep breath and attempted to sober herself up to restore what civility she could. "I dedn't say yer cooehldn't," Siobhán retorted softly, slowly moving to clasp her hands in front of her.

"Then why did you?" Prentiss cocked a brow in challenge, not missing a beat.

Siobhán blinked. Now, she was confused - was Emily honestly pissed off because William had called her over? The woman was acting like she was the one who had made the conscious choice to interrupt the conversation but it had actually been William. "Why ded I what?" Siobhán pressed with a genuine frown this time, gritting her teeth.

"Take over," Prentiss bit out bluntly, and as hard as Siobhán tried to search her face at that moment, there wasn't a single ounce of sincerity to be found.

If this was how it was meant to be for the duration of her time as part of the bureau, then was it really worth it? Siobhán didn't bother to disguise her eye roll or the scoff as she eventually passed her lips, shaking her head in genuine bewilderment.

When she did look back at Prentiss, the woman still wore the same expression, and that confirmed her suspicions straight away. Emily Prentiss felt pushed out.

throwing her hands into the air in her own frustration, Siobhán let out a huff and moved to tuck the loose red tresses behind her ear. "'lliam called me over, Prentess. I can't 'elp dat," she hedged with reason, trying her best to remain as placid as she could. The brunette needed to understand that she wasn't a threat. "I'm 'ere to do a jahb..."

"Well, you're not my partner, so I'd appreciate it if-"

Siobhán decided then that her threshold was met.

Not allowing Prentiss to bother with the rest of her pathetic speech, Siobhán carried herself forward so she was lingering mere inches from the other woman and allowed her face to adopt a deathly evasive glance as her eyes slowly took in Emily's face, studying her quietly.

If this was how it was to be between them, then so be it... Siobhán sucked in a sharp breath and gave a forceful shake of her head. "I apahlogise if I've oehpset de peace boeht yer bahsses wanted me 'ere." Siobhán's voice rose, not that she bothered to try and control it - and she immediately saw Prentiss tense at the tone which brought her some ounce of satisfaction.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she allowed her eyes to close and attempted to gather herself if she was to calm down. They couldn't be seen to have a shouting match whilst on a case and they couldn't afford for it to affect their working relationship or the team.

Whilst her eyes were closed, she didn't get to see the uneasy expression flash across Prentiss's face as she took in the sudden change of her demeanour, racing to evaluate what was transpiring at that moment. Prentiss recoiled from the redhead when she saw the present tick of her jaw, knowing that she had succeeded in irking her.

Sighing again, Siobhán let out the breath she had been holding before slowly opening her again. Prentiss didn't have to like her but they had to get along. "Boeht," she added after a few moments, enjoying the way Prentiss's eyes snapped back to her although more in apprehension that time. "If yer've gaht a prahblem, I'd moehch rather yer tell me now befahre yer take it oehp wit dem," Siobhán concluded softly, her eyes holding Prentiss's own firmly before she bowed her head and stepped away entirely.

With that, she turned on her heel once more and strode in the direction of the farmhouse and willed the anger to dissipate from her entirely.

She just didn't understand it - the unjustified hostility that the woman kept throwing her way needlessly and for what? She sighed again, more so when she heard the woman's footsteps behind her, following her towards where the rest of the team was gathered. Emily Prentiss could know why she was really there otherwise, it was game over.

"Is Bedwell alright?" questioned Morgan, nodding in the direction of the inspector who was speaking animatedly into his mobile, throwing his hands about in annoyance.

Rossi gave a dismissive shrug of his shoulder, obviously unbothered by the change of character given how difficult it had been to convince the man otherwise. "He will be," he reasoned lightly. "He has every available cop in Ontario on their way here."

Meeting Hotch's gaze as she came to stand beside him, Siobhán let out a soft hum in amusement. "Naht sure what good dat'll do…" she trailed off, running a hand through her hair.

Gesturing to her, Morgan crossed his arms over his chest. "So, Quinn said you found someone in the house... a quadriplegic?" he questioned, cocking an eyebrow in disbelief.

Siobhán let out a snort, still finding the entire situation unbelievable and knowing that none of them could have guessed it would have transpired the way it had either - it was mind-boggling to say the very least.

From her side, Hotch's lip flickered upwards. "Catch of the day..." he murmured lowly with a roll of his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Morgan practically balked as he shook his head at their unit chief, his eyes searching his stern face in feigned shock. "Did you just make a joke?"

Following Morgan's gaze, Siobhán looked at the stern man beside her and appraised him. It was becoming abundantly clear that Hotch was only known for his seriousness and not much else but despite knowing that he was capable of it, she found herself fortunate that she had witnessed another side to the man in their few encounters over the years.

"Well," Rossi began as Hotch shot Morgan a warning look, settling next to them before shoving his hands deep down into his jean pockets and letting out a huff: "At least we know he's not going anywhere seeing as he's paralysed from the neck down."

"Jajye's in there with him right now," Reid added from Hotch's other side.

Morgan blew out a sigh in disbelief, "Well, that's a pretty damn solid criminal defense."

"I'd say," Siobhán agreed with a nod of her head.

Pushing off from the porch's railings, Rossi looked like he was coming up with a plan in his head, running it through several times before deciding that he could share it with them. "I'll go and, uh, talk to him," he offered after a few moments and Siobhán was impressed, knowing that he would secretly find enjoyment from probing Mason to the point of irritation. "Loosen him up."

Siobhán chuckled at his words when he said them, unable to help herself as the older agent moved to disappear back into the farmhouse.

Clearing his throat, she watched as Hotch turned to look at Morgan with a deeply furrowed brow. "Morgan, do you have the contact number for that detective from Detroit?"

"Benning?" Hotch nodded at the name and Morgan reached for the phone in his pocket to pull out the recent contact he had saved much to Siobhán's subsequent amusement. "Yeah... somewhere, let me just-"

Snorting, Siobhán rolled her eyes at the womanizer. "What a soehrprise..."

Morgan's head whipped in her direction as he scowled playfully back at her. "Hey!"

"I dedn't say anythin'," Siobhán retorted with a wink, earning herself a shove from Morgan.

"Sure you didn't, Red..."

Feeling eyes on her again, Siobhán looked up to see Prentiss watching them closely with a disapproving gaze taking root on her face. Rolling her eyes, she shoved Morgan back. "Bite me, soehnshine," she dared, watching as the brunette woman departed from the group thankfully but her movements didn't escape that of Hotch who was soon looking over at Siobhán curiously, obviously wondering what had transpired between the pair of them.

He obviously decided to let it slide.

"If I can interrupt your flirtationship," Hotch remarked dryly which had Siobhán chuckling at the leveled seriousness in his voice, both of their attentions flew to him.

Flirtationship? Siobhán narrowed her eyes at him and she could swear she saw the faint smirk on the man's lips. If only... "C'mon, Hotch..." Morgan breathed out with an eye roll, obviously sharing the same thoughts as her, more so now that he knew she wasn't interested in him in that way.

"When you call Benning," Hotch started again, ignoring the pair of them and she found herself admiring him again for his ability to maintain his professionalism. "You're going to need to tell her that we're going to need their open missings so we can make identifications on this property. All of them."

Sobering up, Morgan gave a firm nod of his head at the instruction. "Got it." He quickly pulled up her contact on his phone and dialed, bringing it to his ear as he moved away from the group.

Frowning as she watched Rossi move around in the farmhouse, her eyes couldn't help but fall on the glowing screen of the laptop that sat not too far from Mason's bedside and she couldn't help but wonder what else he was hiding, lurked within the contents of the device and if they-

"What are you thinking?"

Siobhán shook herself free of her thoughts when she heard Hotch's voice.

Gradually, she brought her attention back to him and shrugged. "I'm assumin' dat 'is laptahp is 'is sahle cahmmunication device, whech I'm also guessin' means 'e 'as data files ahn 'ard drives, 'nd recahrds..." Siobhán trailed off in thought, frowning as she looked in the direction of the nearest window of the farmhouse. If he was solely reliant on his laptop to communicate, then she was absolutely certain that there was bound to be evidence on there that would also strengthen their case. Siobhán eventually looked over at Hotch, "Are yer dinkin' what I'm dinkin'?"

Nodding, Hotch's lips fell into a straight line. "We need access to it before we run out of time..."

"Music to me ears, Agent 'Ahtchner," Siobhán affirmed softly as he pulled out his phone from his front trouser pocket and began to search for his desired contact before he dialed the number. It rang for a couple of seconds before it was answered:

"... BAU tech center, where you should definitely pay attention to the girl behind the curtain..."

Siobhán couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her lips as Garcia spoke, idolising the woman's exuberance that filled the air between those that remained.

"Garcia," Hotch greeted in amusement before sobering instantly. "I'm going to need you in Ontario as soon as you can at this farmhouse that the UnSub's care was registered to."

"Oh, uh - yes, sir!" Garcia's startled tones erupted from the other end of the line as she spoke, "What should I bring?"

Siobhán was surprised when Hotch was gesturing for her to speak probing the phone under her nose. "'ey, Penelahpe," she started, quietly unsure as she had yet to really interact with the technical analyst so she would be lying if she didn't feel a slight pressure as she openly conversed with the woman. "We're goin' to need fahrensic recahvery frahm a laptahp."

The line was silent for a few moments before the bubbly analyst was practically squealing on the other end: "Oh, honey... you can talk to me all day long with a voice as sweet as those Irish tones of yours!" Garcia erupted sweetly which had Siobhán chuckling at how naively innocent the woman really was. "PG is on it!"

Stepping away slightly, Siobhán looked up and met Hotch's gaze whose expression was unreadable before he turned his attention back to his phone. "Garcia, we'll tell you more when you get here..." he explained firmly, the seriousness returning in an instant as he started to speak. "This isn't a conversation I want to have over the phone."

There was a momentary pause, "Yes, sir."

"And the next flight, Garcia," Hotch added without missing a beat.

"Sure thing," Garcia announced, "On my way."

Hotch disconnected the call and turned towards the gangly doctor who was hovering awkwardly on the steps still. "Reid, let Bedwell know that we're going to need a warrant to examine the laptop and whatever hard drives Turner has on it..."

The young doctor nodded, "On it," he agreed eagerly before moving to walk away.

"Reid," Siobhán called after him before she could stop herself, watching as he paused and turned to look back at them both. "I'm naht an expert boeht 'ow lahng d'yer dink it wooehld take?"

Reid's vacant expression was exchanged for a frown, "To get a warrant?" he asked slowly, wanting to make sure that was what she was asking about.

Siobhán gave a soft smile and shook her head, "Nah... I mean fahr de pegs to..." She couldn't help but trail off and jerk her head in the direction of the pig pens with a grimace. "Yer know..." She dreaded to think how long it would take for pigs to eat and digest human remains but was thankful Reid understood her meaning without needing to go into too much detail.

"Oh, well, depending on the size and condition of the bodies when they're placed in the pen, doubt it would be quick..." Reid surmised with a frown as he mulled over his thoughts, "Why?"

At least it confirmed her assumption that Kelly was still out there somewhere... out there in the darkness with Mason's murderous brother. "Den dat means Kelly wasn't poeht in dere, she's stell 'ere sahmewhere... we joehst 'ave to fend 'er," she explained, finding some comfort in the fact that the girl could still be alive, and with that, she watched the doctor start down the steps in the direction of the inspector.

Despite the slight positive note, Siobhán shuddered at the realisation that by the masses of shoes, the brothers had been abducting for who knew how long and their victim pool was about to get a lot deeper than they originally planned. It was overwhelming to think about and whilst she had been in the job a long time with everything she had seen, some things still caught her off guard occasionally.

A silence fell between herself and Hotch then, her eyes trailing around the farm in the darkness to land on Morgan as he stood talking into his phone with Prentiss not lingering too far away from him, and instantly, she felt distaste rising into her mouth.

"Is it really not that bad?" Hotch's voice called out to her softly, his hand encircling her right forearm and pulled her attention back to him slowly when she did eventually meet his gaze, she couldn't dismiss the unsettling feeling that she felt rising into her chest when she saw the look of concern there.

"Hmm?"

Obviously realising that she hadn't been entirely listening to him and that her thoughts were elsewhere, Hotch offered her a pleasant smile before he spoke again. "I know you've probably seen worse..." he started uncertainly, letting his hand drop from her forearm eventually. "You just don't seemed at all phased by it."

He wasn't necessarily wrong... whether she took into consideration the cases she'd worked in her time at Interpol, when she had been roaming the Middle East with the Marines or the horrors caused by her family in the time she had been trapped with them... "Oehnfahrtunately," she muttered quietly with a shrug, "De dings dat 'uman beings'll do to one anahther stell soehrprises me to dis day... 'nd de dings I've seen, Aarahn," Siobhán remarked sourly with an eye roll, looking up at him again to meet his gaze. "Yer've gahtta swetch ahff frahm it."

Hotch nodded at her, "What's bothering you, then?"

Letting out a soft snort, Siobhán shook her head in defeat and let her eyes trail to where Prentiss stood with Morgan and tried to banish the annoyance that she felt taking root there but she doubted it would disappear, she just had to hope that she more she lingered with them that Prentiss would calm down. "What am I doin' 'ere?" Siobhán asked eventually after a few moments, unsure if allowing herself to be bullied into a decision was really worth it.

Her response obviously confused the man, his frown becoming horrifically intense as he held her gaze. "What do you mean?"

"Like really doin' 'ere 'cause I dahn't oehnderstand why I'm 'ere at all…" Siobhán told him quietly, crossing her arms over her chest awkwardly as they remained standing on the porch together. She felt so very out of her depth, she didn't want to continue to feel like she was imposing and she wasn't entirely sure that feeling would ever go away. "I'm naht a prahfiler." She wasn't at all.

SHe couldn't comprehend how she had managed to slither into one of the FBI's most esteemed units so easily and without any real difficulty...

Sensing her unease, Hotch took a step closer to her so she could feel his body warmth vibrating inches from her. "I know that and I'm not asking you to be."

"It feels like I'm ahversteppin' a booehndary," Siobhán rebuked instantly, shaking her head dismissively with a scowl.

"Strauss forced you into a corner, I get that."

Siobhán laughed at that, turning to look at him properly then and saw that his eyes remained on her. "D'yer?" She knew she didn't need to ask, she had always known Strauss was never championed him and had been waiting for a reason to force him out of the bureau for quite some time.

Hotch nodded, "I appreciate that it's an adjustment for you… one that you didn't want," he reasoned, bowing his head as he acknowledged that perhaps she didn't really want to be a part of his team, that she had been forced to do and wouldn't find enjoyment in being there either. She found she couldn't ignore the disappointment as it laced his words.

"I dedn't say dat."

Hotch, however, still persisted and a part of her wondered why he truly cared so much.

"You feel out of place because you're over-qualified but that doesn't mean I wouldn't want you here." He paused, willing his words to sink in as they reached her ears and whilst she wished she could find comfort in them, she doubted she ever would and she also knew that he would never understand why she was feeling the way she was. "Your familiarity with this is still valuable and an aid to this team."

She rolled her eyes after a few moments, "Please dahn't prahfile me, Aarahn..."

Hotch held her gaze for a few moments, a knowing look taking root.

Sighing in defeat, she felt her chest deflate as Siobhán turned to face him fully, contemplating to bear all but ultimately deciding that she couldn't. Instead, she offered Hotch a small smile that she desperately hoped wasn't as pitiful as it felt. "It isn't abooeht dat."

Thankfully, the arrival of distant sirens rising into the night as they raced along the strip leading to the farmhouse saved her from having to explore dangerous territory with a man she respected but didn't solely trust.

It wasn't that… it wasn't that she didn't trust Hotch because a part of her definitely did and always had - she just couldn't trust him with who she was, deep down.

She didn't have time to dwell on it any longer, thank God -

Rushing over to where they stood yet to move, Bedwell practically shoved his phone away hastily with a sigh, glancing over his shoulder at the nearing company from his reinforcements beginning to arrive. "The judge will sign the warrant for the laptop first thing in the morning," he greeted in a rush which had Siobhán rolling her eyes again.

"Talk abooeht oehrgency," she let out in a grumble although she wasn't all that surprised.

Hotch nodded and seemed more appreciative of the response than she could be bothered to muster. Bloody diplomat... "Our technical analyst should be here by then," he advised.

"Well, we've got search-and-rescue units coming..." Bedwell replied, appearing somewhat more meek compared to the challenge he boasted earlier to Rossi. "They're also our emergency response team, so they'll be armed in case we come across something."

Something, she replayed in her head. In case they came across Lucas and had to act, she knew what that was code for.

Exiting from the farmhouse, Jayje looked panic-stricken as she approached the group with Rossi slowly following behind her, a dark look settled on his aged features. "When this hits the press, families of missings are gonna come rushing out here," the blonde warned gravely and they all knew she spoke the truth; when that happened, it would only make things more difficult to manage. "I'm gonna need some uniformed officers to assist me," Jayje informed Bedwell curtly, catching him off guard with her assertiveness.

The inspector gave a sharp nod in understanding and gestured for her to follow him, "Come on, let's get you set up..." He led her away from the group which soon prompted Hotch to those who remained.

Morgan and Prentiss had rejoined them in the short time Benning had been informed that she needed to provide case files with Reid lingering just a little way behind them.

"Morgan," Hotch announced to get the man's attention, "I want you and Siobhán to supervise the evidence collection... I don't think the techs have had a scene like this before."

Nodding in agreement, Siobhán let out a sigh and shared a look with Morgan. "Prahbably naht."

At their words, Prentiss also let out a loud scoff. "Has anyone?" she quipped with an arched brow.

"Well, we also have a picture to go by now," Rossi interjected, holding out a photo of a stout, rotund man dressed in overalls with a dopey smile on his face as he showed it to them measuredly. "This is Lucas Turner, Mason's brother and according to Mason, he's the UnSub... he claims he's even a victim himself."

Studying the photos for a few moments, Siobhán nodded before looking up to meet Rossi's gaze. "Does Masahn know where Lucas wooehld 'ave taken Kelly?"

Rossi snorted at that, "Claims he has no idea."

"Figures..." Siobhán mused with another roll of her eyes, nudging Morgans's side.

Sighing, Hotch gave a slow nod and glanced over at where Reid was standing. "Reid," he called abruptly, jolting the young doctor from his thoughts with a startly, "Lucas is your assignment... find his room, his things, anything that might tell us where he would go."

"On it," Reid called over his shoulder as he meandered back toward the farmhouse with a sudden intent.

"One more thing..." Rossi started, pulling everyone's attention to him instantly, obviously wondering what more there could be. "Mason warned me that his brother is extremely psychotic, says he won't go down without a fight."

Siobhán's eyes narrowed at Rossi's words, every part of her internally screaming that Mason was involved. "Does 'e really expect oehs to believe dat?" she let out in scoff of disbelief, shaking her head at the absurdity of the situation. "Dat joehst screams dahdgy if yer ask me..."

"Prentiss, have Jayje get the picture and the description out to the press," Hotch continued, not lingering on Rossi's words as he rushed to direct the team. "When they get here, put them to work for us."

"Surely sahmebahdy'll nahtice a man dat beg," Siobhán reasoned with a grimace, still unimpressed.

She didn't miss Prentiss give a sharp nod of her head, accepting the photo from Rossi. "You got it," she agreed, her eyes stalling over to where Siobhán stood close at his side before she eventually turned on her heel and made off in the direction Bedwell had taken Jayje, leaving Rossi with Siobhán and a curious looking Hotch much to her amusement.

Siobhán knew what he was getting at it - Rossi's regard for Mason was beyond obvious.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Hotch arched a brow before stepping towards Rossi. "According to Mason, Mason claims to…" he trailed off with a puzzled glance, tilting his head. "It sounds to me like you don't believe him."

"Wooehld yer?" Siobhán retorted with a glance in Hotch's direction.

Hearing her response, Rossi hummed in approval and set his palm on her shoulder to ground her and she was silently grateful that the man was as highly-strung as his reputation preceded him to be. "He also said we shouldn't even try to talk to his brother, that we should shoot first…" he trailed with a frown, eyeing Hotch who glanced back at the farmhouse.

Siobhán sighed, "Well, dat's either 'elpfoehl advice ahr..."

"Or a way for half a team to clean up loose ends," Rossi continued, pursing his lips in his growing frustration. "Either way, this is some family."

Rossi had a point and she couldn't ignore the uneasiness settling firmly into the pit of her stomach the more she ruminated on the possibility that the two brothers were entirely entwined in the disappearances, an opportunistic partnership for murder... Definitely some family, Siobhán mused to herself as she grimaced, her brow furrowing to the point her mind struck that of her own.

Siobhán's scowl only deepened.

...

2009. LA TERRASSE SAINT CLAIR, CALUIRE-ET-CUIRE, FRA

TWENTY-SIX HOURS AGO

...

Lightly tapping her thumbs against the sides of her phone, Siobhán blew out a low breath in frustration before reaching to pull her single-breasted navy coat around herself in a grimace, arching back into the alcove she had stepped into with a grimace.

She glanced down at her phone screen again and carefully typed her reply, eyeing the message that had demanded her presence.

S.Q., 16:56: Here.

The weather certainly hadn't forecasted the relentless downpour she had been met with when arriving in Lyon.

She also didn't appreciate the continuous onslaught from the Heaven's above, heavy droplets of water drilling against her coat as she had fought to keep it above her head before eventually finding solace in the alcove she lingered in now, waiting impatiently.

Siobhán glanced down at her wrist and blanched. 16:59.

The need for anonymity for whatever reason never failed to amuse her - loitering on the streets in Lyon waiting for a man whom she had regarded as having abandoned her wasn't how she had pictured her evening transpiring and yet, there she was... waiting despite the frustration she could feel bubble away under the surface. Why continue to let him make your choices for you?

Casting her eyes around herself, she sucked in a sharp breath when they stilled on a figure ambling in her direction several hundred meters away. Squinting, the sharp breath came out in a scoff of disbelief. She didn't know whether to pretend to be surprised by the incredulity that her father hadn't actually shown up or be decidedly unbothered by the predictability of the situation.

On the opposite side of the street, her eyes immediately zeroed in on the familiar face as he approached; he was still as short and small-bodied as she remembered him to be with his honey skin glistening under the illuminated street lights that had begun to glow the closer dusk neared.

Louis Matissé had always been a slight man ever since Siobhán had had the displeasure of meeting him six years ago - a lean torso with little chest muscle, an incredibly narrow waist, and shoulders with a slender neck (and that was being polite) - there was nothing particularly defining about him. The jetted pocket suit he wore was perfectly pressed underneath his grey peacoat which reminded her that manual labour had never really been his forte in the entire time she had known him.

His head was clean-shaven despite being naturally bald, sporting only faint speckles from the rain that had managed to sneak under the protection of his umbrella with his wiry brunette moustache and matching circle beard glistening from the exposure to the constant drizzle.

As he drew closer, her eyes easily struck his own heavy-lidded gaze - his jet eyes boring into hers as he eventually came to a slow halt, his left arm moving to prop his umbrella against his shoulder, appraising her silently.

Siobhán allowed the silence to continue for a few more moments before she relented, her frustration eventually getting the better of her. She quirked an eyebrow toward Matissé, a playful smile on her mouth in an instant. "I keep 'ahpin' one o' dese days yer'll stahp bein' 'is lackey, Matessé." She had never trusted the man.

He gave her a small nod in return, followed by a fleeting smile of his own. "Salut, Siobhán."

Grimacing as her eyes slowly fell upon the man's face, Siobhán assessed his expression to ascertain if he was being genuine in his sincerity… but was anything about Matissé sincere? Not in the slightest. "Danks fahr sellin' me to de Feds, by de way, trou du cul," she commented coolly, choosing to retract any emotion from her voice. This wasn't personal and she certainly didn't like him enough to pretend otherwise.

Much to her annoyance, Matissé ignored her comment, "Eet wasn't agreed by me."

She rolled her eyes, feeling the immediate sting of sarcasm rising on the tip of her tongue as she regarded him. "An easy yes, den." At her rebuke, Matissé seemed genuinely quizzical - entirely unlike him - which caused any sarcastic remark she may have spat his way to die on Siobhán's lips. "Where is 'e?"

Matissé gave a dismissive shrug of his shoulders, "'e's not 'ere."

Rian wasn't there? The sole reason she had made the damned blasted trip wasn't there? Despite wanting to bite, Siobhán managed to maintain her neutral expression even though she wanted to narrow her eyes at the man in front of her. She congratulated herself when she spoke, her voice successfully conversational, "What d'yer mean 'e's naht 'ere?"

Dark eyes were staring at her with avid interest then, "'e 'as a meeting wiv yur brother zat took précédence ovair zis." He lifted his eyebrows, observing her closely as he allowed his words to settle in the air, his words coming out in puffs of air.

She stilled at his words, feeling something settling in the deep pit of her stomach. If her father had reached out to either one of her brothers, there was no good reason behind it. Siobhán let out a purposefully loud, forbearing sigh. "Whech one?"

"Ze more reasonable un." She straightened at his teasing tone, caught off guard by its underlying seriousness that she might have missed if she hadn't known him so well.

So, her father had sought out Eoghan… for what reason? She also gathered that whatever the reason was, it wasn't for good either. Allowing her confusion to fizzle through her, Siobhán realised that she was also slightly offended as she turned to face him. "Moehst be impahrtant if 'e chahse to see 'im over me..." she trailed off, hoping that he would confirm her suspicions without much effort from her.

Matissé crossed his arms, his hand still securely holding onto his umbrella but his tone was far more gentle than it had been mere seconds before which succeeded in surprising Siobhán. "You know ai can't tell you..." he trailed off in warning, pursing his lips together.

French prick… "Naht dat I care enooehgh to ask anyway." Siobhán fought to keep her voice light and measured as she replied, even though she could feel the probing of a potential headache brewing behind her eyes at the newfound knowledge that her father was indefinitely up to something. She had been stupid enough to think that everything had quietened down. Obviously not. "'as anyone 'eard frahm Tadgh?" The other one.

An irritated snort left Matissé's mouth, dark eyes lighting up as he teased: "Haire and zer," he murmured lowly before letting out an amused chortle.

She didn't bother to play off the scoff as it worked its way passed her lips, "Tell me why I'm really relahcatin', Matessé," she demanded, surprised at how mild her tone was despite knowing she wouldn't get the answers she desired from him.

She knew there was no good reason she had been asked to fly back across the Atlantic for a simple catch-up…

He gave her a questioning look before finally sighing, "Declan Doyle."

Of course, she inwardly huffed. The name had her gritting her teeth before letting out a low grumble. What the hell did he want with him? They had all decided to let him go, that there had been no point in giving chase when the North Koreans took over... what's changed?

She rolled her eyes at Matissé. "What abooeht de bahy?" Her shoulders sagged at the sudden realisation that the life she thought she had left behind was rushing back to the surface and this time, her father was very much in charge of it.

To what end… She dreaded to think what her father could possibly want with a small boy after years of him having gone under the radar.

The exasperated look Matissé gave her made her throw her head back in laughter as the sheer disbelief that she thought she'd escaped her father's delusions. He sent her an eye roll of his own, "Le patron wants 'im found," he replied dourly, which only spurred on her laughter.

With a disbelieving shake of her head, Siobhán snorted at the title he so insistently used for her father... the boss. "After all dis time?" she murmured before letting out a resigned groan, rubbing the pads of his fingers across her forehead.

The small man narrowed his eyes at her, "Ze intairpul ajent now wairks fair yur nu employair… she's easi-lee accézibuhl now zat shé non longair wairks fair la CIA." Matissé shifted back on his heels, his aura of self-importance growing impossibly unbearable as Siobhán held his gaze. "You need to locate 'im et éxtricate 'im from whairevair she 'as 'im."

She... Siobhán scrunched her nose up at the inclination, her hands balling into fists at her side at the realisation of what he was alluding to. Emily Prentiss. The woman who had prolonged the chaos it would seem...

She shook her head, red hair falling over her shoulder and curtaining her from her friend's excited gaze from the other side of the couch, then looked over the profile her friend had created for her. "Yer make it sooehnd easy. Dis-" She pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance, "Dis isn't sahmethin' dat'll 'appen ahvernight, dis is goin' to take time," she reminded him, shaking her head firmly.

The simple request wasn't as simple as she wished it was… the woman was cautious of her already before she even really knew why she had been told to meet with Erin Strauss, to begin with. To earn someone's trust and then betray them was no easy feat… her eyes narrowed as she glowered, utterly determined to not be railroaded into something she desperately didn't want to do again.

He lifted his eyebrows in question, "We know which eez why la move eez necezary."

Verdant orbs rolled and Siobhán shook her hair back over her shoulders, muttering: "Mettre son grain de sel."

Matissé shot her an incredulous look, "No," he challenged, his eyes flashing with something that she hadn't witnessed before from him but as soon as she had seen it, it was gone. "I'm just relaieng what ai 'ave been tuld to tell you."

"Dey're gettin' 'im ooeht, aren't dey?" Siobhán muttered, staring at him for a moment before pulling a face, "Dat's de ahnly reasahn Rian wooehld want Declan... to keep Dahyle ahn side because 'e left 'im to de Kahreans..." she added to clarify, hoping it would get rid of the incredulous look on Matissé's face.

She wasn't stupid and neither was Matissé. Her father was playing a dangerous game.

Matissé scoffed loudly and with obvious scorn as he continued to watch her. "Strauss eez unsuspecténg. Shé thinks shé 'as un ovair on us wiv you on side... Eet also gives you great influénce," he hummed in a pause, inclining his head softly as his eyes slowly raked over her, making her feel completely uncomfortable at the gesture. "You know what you 'ave to do."

A few beats of silence passed between them.

Her eyes searched his and she couldn't help but wonder what it was that she was exactly looking for, what she was thinking before she finally let out a defeated sigh. "Is dere sahmethin' else?" Siobhán dared to ask, already knowing the answer.

Matissé stared at her for a few seconds.

"Oui," the slight man murmured in agreement before reaching into an inner pocket of his peacoat and eventually withdrawing something after a few moments. Turning it over in his hand, he smiled when he glanced at it before offering it out to her, whatever he had smiled at now facing the ground. "Zis eez fair you."

Siobhán's forehead crinkled, her eyebrows coming together in slow confusion as she let her attention fall to what Matissé held out to her. Her right hand flexed instinctively as she reached out for the A5 card, unsure of what it could be.

She didn't allow her eyes to leave Matissé as she slowly took the offering, her fingers curling around the thin spine of the card to grip it sturdily before she slowly let her gaze drop.

Her eyes narrowed immediately when she saw four words etched out cursively onto the card in black ink.

C.Q Baptism, July '09

The world came to a fast halt at the realisation that it was a reminder, a threat almost.

And suddenly, there was a bizarre weight sinking in her stomach, dropping lower, and lower… lower as she turned over the card slowly in her palm. Siobhán couldn't stop the sharp breath she sucked in from reverberating up into the air.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Baptism... what five-year-olds had committed any sins that they needed to repent to be reborn? In her father's eyes... Opening them again, she clenched her jaw to get better control over herself.

The photograph - a small boy, dressed in a long-sleeved snow linen shirt, stood with a reserved twinkle alight on his face. His coppery red curls fell about his round, cream-coloured face messily with powdered freckles coating his small button nose. Her breath hitched when she looked closer, taking in his almost emerald orbs with flecks of mint and how they shone, small crinkles forming at the sides as he smiled shyly.

"We'll be watchéng."

Siobhán's head snapped up to look at Matissé.

The uncomfortable heaviness had settled in the pit of her stomach, burning brighter inside of her the more she thought about why she did what she did - for him.

And her father knew it.

Matissé hummed with a small smile, gesturing to the photograph in her hand. "'e 'as grown," he remarked softly as Siobhán tucked it away into her own inner pocket hurriedly, silently reminding herself that it was to be added to the others.

"Au revoir, Siobhán." Matissé rolled his eyes at her as she remained observing the small photograph in her hands but brought his hand up to squeeze hers lightly in return.

"Va te faire foutre, connard."

...

"Earth to Quinn… you alright?"

Her head snapped up as Morgan's voice cut through her thoughts to bring her back from her reverie.

Siobhán blinked slowly as she registered his question.

Was she all right? She was so far from being all right but it didn't matter. As she persisted in her attempt to get herself back under control, Siobhán made the mistake of looking up at Morgan again.

His brown eyes watched her intently and she wondered just how deeply they were going to delve into what she had been thinking about, how far Morgan would push for her to admit her weaknesses before he would relent - a boundary she wasn't sure she was ready to test just yet.

No one can know, the voice in her head reminded her.

She wasn't stupid - she was in absolutely no position to tell Morgan what was going on with her family and she also knew that despite how much she would try to dodge his questioning, he would persist because Derek Morgan was a genuinely good person that Siobhán wasn't. Damn, Derek Morgan…

She blew out a small sigh, shaking her head as the small scowl that had gathered on her face died. Wetting her lips, Siobhán sucked in a sharp breath. "Yeah, uh…" Her voice almost shook. "M'sahrry…" she whispered in trepidation, the pain practically dripping from her voice as she fought to get herself back under control.

Morgan looked at her inquisitively even though he shot her a cheeky grin, obviously wanting to lighten the mood given their current situation but still blatant in his apparent concern. "Hope wherever you disappeared to was better than this hellhole."

"Hmm…" Siobhán closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply through her nose to ground herself. She bit her lip as she nodded, "I- yeah…" Pull yourself together, Sibby.

Morgan shook his head furiously, refusing to accept her avoidance. "C'mon… I can hear your brain all the way from here," Morgan mused softly, letting his head roll to the side as he regarded Siobhán. "What's goin' on in that pretty little head of yours?"

Siobhán's mouth quirked up into a smile against her own accord and she let out a soft sigh, "Nahthin'."

Morgan gave her a look, "I know it ain't nothin', sweetness."

No one can know, the voice repeated.

"Joehst tired." Siobhán hesitated before shaking her head in faint amusement. Morgan had no idea just how complicated her life was. "Yer know 'ow jet lag is..." She sighed again, allowing some agitation to filter through her voice her phone buzzed with a notification. "… Shooehld be used-"

"Siobhán," Morgan interjected swiftly although his voice held a quietness to it that unsettled her. The expression he wore was more serious as he fixed his gaze on hers. His voice was soothing enough to quieten the disconcertion growing in her stomach. "We're friends." Morgan shifted so he could slide his fingers around her hand to give it a quick squeeze.

They were anything but that.

"Friends," the Irishwoman allowed herself to echo softly, her own tone growing pensive as she regarded him softly.

It was delivered as a defiant declaration that she found altogether bemusing since he barely knew her.

"Never 'ad many o' dahse befahre." Her tone was unyieldingly firm as she asserted her truth somewhat sombrely.

She had never seen the need for anyone to attach herself to - she was a nomad, she didn't stay anywhere for too long to bother building any real foundations, and yet this man she barely knew was proposing that was what they were. It was fascinating.

Morgan nodded resolutely, "Well, now you've got seven more," he informed her, pulling her roughly from her thoughts as he leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek before he moved away entirely.

The redhead paused for a moment, mulling over his words, and allowed herself a small smile - was he including Prentiss in that? She knew that they were far from acquaintances let alone friends. She would allow Morgan that belief - that despite having entered their lives a fortnight ago that they were all friends but they weren't, that was her truth. "Maybe," Siobhán conceded in amusement as she tilted her head when her phone buzzed again.

Withdrawing the small device from her pocket, she glanced downwards at the screen and her furrowed brow only deepened.

C.Q.: Return my calls.

Siobhán was quiet for a moment (much to her own vexation) as she took it in, and she didn't dare to look back up at Morgan from the fear that the myriad of feelings that were raging through her in that very moment would give her distress away as she contemplated her family ties again.

"Who is it?"

Swiping across the screen, the pad from her index finger selected the recent message before confirming 'delete' against it. "An annahyance I dahn't need…" Siobhán hedged tentatively in affirmation, swallowing hard before she eventually relented, looking up to meet the unexpected intense gaze Morgan was giving her.

She felt her breath catch in her throat.

Morgan looked genuinely surprised at her grumble but he was soon flashing her with a quizzical smile, "Somethin' you need to learn about me, Red… " he told her as they settled into a comfortable silence, strolling along the front of the farm with the sun rising behind them. "You can trust me, I know we're still unknown to you and all but you can." Morgan moved to squeeze Siobhán's arm quickly, "Did you get any sleep?"

She couldn't help the exasperated chuckle that wormed its way out of her throat at his question, with flesh-eating pigs outside? Yeah, right… "Yer jahkin' right?" Siobhán almost croaked out, feeling somewhat dazed by the question - more so because Morgan was showing her what she could only describe as genuine care as she watched the man beside her slip his hands into his pockets.

"I know." He offered her a pleasant, affable smile followed by a breathless laugh. "But seriously..." Morgan nudged her shoulder with his, jolting her as they walked along together aimlessly, "You really-"

"Agent Morgan!"

Wheeling around to face the source of the voice, Siobhán copied Morgan's movements to see an olive-skinned woman trouncing heavily toward them with a bag taht was close to burst at the seams hauled over her shoulder. "She got here quick..." he commented lowly to her, stepping towards Benning as she met them.

Morgan had contacted her not even three hours ago and she was already here? A quick, harsh chortle escaped her before she could help it as she quickly shook her head, "What ded you do?" Siobhán lifted an inquisitive brow at Benning before adding: "Fly 'ere?"

Benning tossed her hair over her shoulder and shrugged easily, "Detroit's not that far," Benning retorted flatly, her head whipping in Siobhán's direction as her forehead crumpled, watching her for a moment as though she was mulling something over. "Nice to see you again, Agent..."

Oh... Siobhán wasn't sure if she was supposed to be upset that Benning didn't remember her or whether it was meant to offend her - either way, she didn't care much. Siobhán let out a low snort, rolling her eyes before she reminded the other woman. "Quinn," she supplied eventually after a few beats even though she was well aware that it was on her badge.

Clearing his throat, Morgan drew in a deep breath which was enough to pull Benning's attention back to him rather than the redhead. "So, did you bring the case files?"

Nodding, Benning tapped her palm against the bag hanging at her side from her shoulder. "Yeah," she affirmed curtly, "I got thirty-five missings and-"

She isn't being serious... Siobhán knew her eyes were bulking in their sockets as she looked to the bag in disbelief, a deep scowl furrowing her brow. That couldn't be all that she had... Siobhán scoffed, "Seriooehsly?" The redhead folded her arms over her chest defiantly, lifting her eyebrows at her in the same way she had done with Bedwell. In truth, they had no idea how many people were actually missing, had gone unnoticed... under the radar...

Beside her, Morgan had fallen silent as he quietly processed her words whilst Siobhán spun on her feet with a groan of annoyance slipping past her lips, her eyes flying to Morgan. The look he was giving the other woman was absolutely incredulous. "That's all?" Morgan sounded exasperated.

Benning gave them both a doubtful look in return, "That's not enough?" She glanced between them expectantly, evidently confused as her forehead creased, her words almost coming out as a stammer.

Drawing her bottom lip between her teeth, Siobhán shook her head softly. "Nowhere near."

Sighing, Morgan inclined his head softly behind them to where forensics were still ploughing through all the shoes retrieved from the bin, setting them out meticulously into their pairs. "Eighty-nine pairs..." he trailed off in uncertainty, a heaviness creeping into his gaze which Siobhán didn't miss, her hand coming up to squeeze the mound of his bicep is what she hoped was some consolation.

When she looked back to Benning, she observed that the detective looked almost afraid to ask the question that was threatening to spill from her mouth. "E-" She snapped her mouth shut, drawing in a sharp breath between her teeth which Siobhán determined what to settle herself, squeezing her eyes shut momentarily before trying again: "Eighty-nine?" she echoed hollowly, an uncomfortable swirl curiosity and horror written all over her face as she attempted to piece together Morgan's meaning.

"So far," Morgan rebuked her curtly, a painful edge to his usual timbre.

Benning's eyes widened. "God..."

"I don't think…" Morgan broke off, swallowing hard before dragging a palm down his face. "I don't think God's been out here in a long time."

Nodding, the redhead twirled her hand in the air lightly, "I dahn't dink anyone 'as," Siobhán ventured in a grumble, tilting her head slightly and drawing up a coppery brow as she guessed, "De perfect place fahr dem."

"How is he?" Benning asked after a few moments in a heavy sigh.

Following her gaze slowly, the pair turned to see her hesitantly watching William as he apprehensively hovered not too far from the derelict farmhouse with darkened expression on his face.

Siobhán managed to suppress the scoff that she so desperately wanted to release as she looked back at the other woman, only raising an eyebrow to her in response at first, studying the apparent self-reproach find its home on Benning's face. "Really? Yer askin' dat now?" she found herself demanding, her voice raising slightly which also seemed to rouse Morgan from beside her as his eyes swept over to her.

"How would you be?" he added bitterly, "He asked for help and nobody ever looked for his sister."

Wide, astonished brown eyes stared at them as Benning spluttered out: "We did the best we could!"

Siobhán looked to Morgan and delighted in the hardened glance that shadowed his features before focusing back on Benning. "Ignahrin' 'im was de best yer cooehld do?"

Benning opened her mouth to refute her words but snapped it shut again, looking between them once more before an incredulous look passed over the woman's face as she steadily chose to hold Siobhán's gaze, her jaw hardening. "We were undermanned," Benning defended, her expression souring.

Siobhán quickly shook her head, unimpressed with the answer that had been uttered so many times before over the years. "Naht always de point dooehgh, is it?" she bit back in a challenge, unable to stop herself as she arched an eyebrow with almost damning precision.

Benning stared at her, flabbergasted for a few moments and looked to Morgan for help but he merely scoffed, throwing his hands up into the air, exasperated. "Well, these are just all throwaway people to you anyway, right?"

"How-" Benning tilted her head slightly, her brows jumping up in confusion. "That is not fair." she asked, feeling uncertain now, and a little unsettled.

Squeezing her eyes shut to ground herself, Siobhán balled her palms into fists and released a low breath before meeting the brunette's gaze again. "Isn't it?" she offered with a suppressed huff of breath.

Benning's mouth dropped to hang open, affronted by the onslaught she had been met with. "I'm- I get it but that's- it's not my fault."

"Naht yooehr faoehlt?" Siobhán eyed her before bowing her head slightly, inhaling deeply to help keep her mind as clear as she could muster despite wanting to let her irritation take control. "'ad you been a lettle mahre invested, ooehr vectim pool might naht be as 'igh boeht que sera, sera and all dat crap."

"You don't know how hard it's been," Benning challenged, pressing forward which had Siobhán smirking. "None of us have ever had a situation like this before."

From her side, Morgan shifted to fold his arms over his chest. Siobhán risked a glance at him to see that his scowl was unchanged, his jaw tense with a look of pure derision withering his usual soft expression. "More than you can think," Morgan urged with a frustrated shake of his head, "But we don't have time to not be at our best, not when lives are at risk."

Siobhán paused for a moment, taking in their words and mulling them over. It was true - the situation was of great magnitude and was more than what any of them would have initially guessed when they got the call but it took for a man worried about his sister for anything to be done and that would never sit right with Siobhán's moral code despite what she was. And for the team? They had to always been at their best - to prevent, to protect… there wasn't any choice in that, why couldn't Benning see it?

"If 'lliam 'adn't acted, yer wooehld've stell been in de dark," Siobhán slowly answered, relenting slightly in her bombardment. "Yer do get dat, dahn't yer?"

"I'm not an idiot," Benning broke off sheepishly, a blush creeping up her neck as she shook her head, desperately looking to Morgan was content on letting Siobhán carry on. "Stop treating me like I am."

But you are, she wanted to rebuke but thought better of it and instead, breathed in deeply through her nose, holding it momentary as she clenched her teeth. "Yer shooehld've lestened," Siobhán offered plainly, her frustration completely bare if that was the only way it would really get through to the other woman. "Dat's what we're meant to do, dat's why people troehst oehs to do ooehr jahbs."

Benning continued to flush but remained quiet, her hands flexing skittishly at her side.

"It's no wahnder people take joehstice into deir own 'ands." Siobhán glowered with an exasperated huff leaving her, "Maybe next time you shooehld take it a lettle mahre seriooehsly. Fahr everyahne's sake."

The other woman was quick to nod her head, her gaze focusing just beyond Siobhán's head when she next spoke, "I get it."

The redhead offered a defeated shrug, "Too late, dooehgh." She winced, the damage had already been done.

"Agent Quinn!"

Thank fuck! Wheeling around sharply on her heel, Siobhán was relieved when she was one of the investigative team waving at her which came her a welcomed reprieve she didn't know she needed to break away from Morgan and Benning, knowing that if she stayed, the rift would only get worse but she had made her point, aired her frustrations. Morgan could handle it from there now that any hopes of flirting had set sail.

Clearing her throat, Siobhán glanced pointedly at the olive-skinned woman before moving to fleetingly squeeze Morgan's forearm again. "Abooeht time…" she murmured lowly, an odd air of repose filling her suddenly when she realised she had no resolve left and that Benning had potentially escaped her erratic chagrin she was known for.

---

SEPTEMBER 2009. TURNER FARM, ONTARIO, CA

EMILY PRENTISS

...

It was incredibly petty of her really.

When she had learned that Morgan had insisted to Hotch that he wanted to join her on the search party, she was elated to have some company to pass the time and keep her preoccupied the longer they stayed at the farm but when she had also learned that it meant Siobhán was in tow, too... well, that was different entirely.

Her eyes had zeroed in on the pair when she caught sight of them ambling along together, talking in hushed tones as Morgan shrugged on his anorak and zipped it up with a soft smile pulling across his lips that had her narrowing her gaze as he talked easily with the redhead, her loose crocodile green linen blouse billowing softly in the faint breeze that trickled through the air as they neared her.

Once the pair were close enough, Emily held out the spare anorak she had been holding in her right palm towards Siobhán expectantly. Every part of her had tried to be the bigger person but the opportunity to get under the other woman's skin was almost too much; she had purposely chosen an anorak that was too big for her and that would be nothing but annoying to wear.

However, she found herself surprised.

Taking it from her silently, Siobhán shrugged on the FBI-emblazoned anorak she'd been given with a low murmur of thanks, rolling up the sleeves at her wrists with little fuss when she discovered the arms to be a bit longer much to Emily's disappointment like it was nothing before pulling the ties to tighten it at the waist and then finally, sliding the zipper upwards.

"The uniform definitely suits you, Red."

Emily stared as the redhead glanced back at Morgan over her shoulder while she hooked her earpiece over the ridge of her ear, her coppery tresses splaying over her back as he winked at her, a dark look rising into the depths of his gaze.

She didn't miss the gravelly change in Morgan's tone either that she was sure could've passed for something similar to… appreciative? She rolled her eyes at his antics. Morgan's like a dog in heat… Emily sighed to herself, walking just off the side of the pair next to her so she could observe their interaction silently.

Siobhán was still looking over at him when Emily roused herself from her thoughts, a smirk playing on her lips. "Yer dink?" She quirked an eyebrow as she started to laugh.

Smirking, the other agent let out a huff before sliding his hands into his pockets, jolting her shoulder again as he swopped in her direction. "Absolutely." He wiggled his eyebrows in a way that soon had the redhead snorting.

Siobhán let out another quick laugh, "Bet yer glad I said yes to de she-devil, den," she surmised with a soft nod, followed up with a small smile before adding: "Besides, yer've never seen me in me blues."

"Blues?" Morgan intoned dumbly, his forehead scrunching up as he stared at her which had Emily letting out a huff. The noise drew his attention to her as he jerked his head over at Siobhán. "That's what she said, right?"

Slowly realising that Morgan was staring at her, Emily could only muster a one-armed shrug in reply - did he honestly think she cared enough? Before she could rack her brain for a reply, Morgan was shaking his head at her as though he had read her mind and rolled his eyes.

Thankfully, the redhead interrupted what Emily imagined would've been a loaded question that had started to form on Morgan's lips. Siobhán quirked her brow again, unable to stop herself from smiling. "Marine foehll dress." She shook her head with what Emily decided was affection before her smile grew into a grin.

Morgan cocked an eyebrow, mischief glowing in his expression as he let out an entirely exaggerated groan in what Emily assumed was meant to be in disappointment although it was thinly veiled. "Well, I'm sure I'll get to see you in them sometime…"

Siobhán acknowledged him with a gentle shrug of her shoulders followed by a coquettish smile. "Dat's naht goin' to 'appen, Derek." She let out a soft, teasing laugh although her tone had lowered, firm as she shoved Morgan back.

Emily watched as she received an indulgent smile before sighing: "You're no fun."

"I'll have yer know, I'm actually a riot." Her voice, which had previously been so clear, had dropped low enough to send a shiver up Emily's spine as she stared at her. The mirth was alive in her words as she spoke, humming lowly. "So, oehh, shoeht yooehr face."

"I-" Emily cut herself off with a huff before turning from Morgan to the redhead, her eyes narrowing as she enjoyed the way the other woman visibly grew suspicious about whatever it was she was about to say. "I'm sorry but I just really don't get it." Her brown eyes narrowed further, the corner of her eyes scrunching up together. "Interpol didn't kick up a fuss over it? At all?"

She just couldn't understand how she had jumped between careers so quickly without there being some sort of catch. They had to be more to it than that, there just had to be.

"Not this again, Prentiss," Morgan groaned.

When she met the redhead's gaze again, she saw that Siobhán was regarding her quietly for a moment, her own eyebrows drawing together in thought before she eventually gave a slight shake of her head and explained more: "Soehrprisengly, no…" Siobhán was quick to cut in with a low chuckle. "I'm assumin' dere'd been talks goin' ahn fahr a while... I joehst wasn't aware o' dem ahbviooehsly."

Using his elbow, Morgan nudged Siobhán lightly in a playful manner as they wandered along. "We all know that Strauss has always had her own agenda," he assured more to Emily than to Siobhán.

Emily cleared her throat, "Yeah but moves in and out of Interpol aren't always that quick..." she trailed off, tipping her head back in annoyance to glance up at the sky.

An unattractive snort escaped from the back of Siobhán's throat which was then followed by a mocking smile which Emily knew was directed at her. "Yer would've dooehght so, wouldn't yer?"

Morgan broke through the long-held silence between both women and shot Emily a look of exaggerated warmth that she knew was meant to mellow her out. "What is it with you and Interpol, Princess?" He threw her a playful look before narrowing his dark eyes in her direction - she knew she was probing a bit too much than she would normally do but there was just something off with the Irishwoman that didn't sit right with her and she couldn't let herself be comfortable around her until she knew exactly what that was.

Emily rolled her eyes with a scoff, "Nothing." Her voice came out sharper than she had intended and Morgan's quick sidewards glance also told her as much. "I just know that they're reputable for retention," she spoke softly, trying to use a lighter tone the longer than Morgan's eyes lingered on her - something that was proving to be more difficult than she imagined.

Laughing at the way Emily had exaggeratedly rolled her eyes, Siobhán let out a huff before she dryly intoned: "Reputable fahr retention…" Her verdant eyes had practically lit up in amusement.

Emily couldn't help but look at her again, feeling her own surprise colouring her features, the heat creeping up from the base of her neck. "And they just rolled over…" She arched an eyebrow incredulously, a disbelieving smile working its way over her face but lacking all empathy - she wouldn't extend any to Siobhán Quinn until she knew who she really was.

The other woman exhaled slowly, as if in an unspoken understanding of her words. "Wooehld seem dat way." Siobhán shrugged it off simply as she ducked her head under a low branch.

Light brown eyes rolled and a small smile worked its way across Morgan's lips as he shook his head, "Well, I say lucky us," he let out in a laugh and instantly, Emily could feel her heart pounding at the revelation that Siobhán wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon.

She could feel her blood rushing through her ears.

"Hmm…" She turned back to where Siobhán was ambling along a few steps ahead of her, tilting her head slightly so she would catch the other woman's eye. "Lucky us."

The redhead seemed unperturbed by the comment and rolled her own eyes, shoving at Morgan's shoulder with her nearest elbow. "Yer gahnna be 'ahnest now dat yer dink yer've strahked me ego?" Siobhán pried, teasingly, tilting her head at him so her hair cascaded over her shoulder.

Shoving her growing nosiness around Siobhán's novelty aside, Emily knew that it hadn't really allowed her the time to actually acknowledge how earnestly honest the Irishwoman appeared to be despite appearances - she had gotten so caught up in it that she had missed the obvious change in Morgan's demeanour and missed the unease that had taken over his usual calm exterior.

Glancing to her friend, Emily saw that Morgan was regarding Siobhán with a soft, fond smile that was enough to distinguish the fire of Emily's nosiness. "What'd you mean?"

Siobhán quirked an eyebrow, "Why ded yer really want to join de search party?" Her brows narrowed sceptically, "Like really?"

Feeling as though she was desperately losing ground in the conversation, the brunette crossed her arms and paused in her ambling to turned on her heel, pulling his attention to her soundly. "What's wrong?"

Rolling his eyes, he quickly shook his head. "It's nothin'..."

A sharp scoff rose up into the air from Siobhán and after a few moments of silence that she allowed to settle between them all, she was speaking again but this time Emily realised that her voice sounded solemn. "Mahrgan..."

He threw her a hopeless look, "I don't know," Morgan replied honestly with an exasperated sigh before his eyes trailed over to meet Emily's. "You've been with this team for what? Two years, right?"

Frowning at the question, Emily let her gaze drop to the floor. Already two years? Her brow furrowed more at thought and realised that Morgan was wrong - when she had gotten her chance with the Bureau, Gideon was still around and Rossi hadn't come out of retirement so, it must have been longer than that! Eventually, she offered him a shake of her head. "Almost three actually..."

Morgan nodded, offering a tight-lipped smile in return. "Well, it's seven for me..." he trailed off, scratching the back of his head. "I mean, that's all I've been thinkin' about all day... is the entire time I've been with the BAU, workin' almost nonstop, having no real life of my own while these brothers have been out here killin' eighty-nine people." He paused, blowing out a sharp breath and released a pained grunt from the back of his throat, "And we didn't even know about it."

Oh... it made sense in that moment and Emily could feel the sympathy rising from the pit of her stomach to flood her body as she gaze at him. Taking a moment to close her eyes, to draw in as much of a calming breath as she could manage. "We were never to know," she attempted to assure gently, reaching out to grasp his forearm between her fingers.

But Morgan was looking at her so intently until something shifted in his gaze. Clearing his throat, he crossed his arms to shrug away her hand. "Well, we know now..."

"Boeht," Siobhán called, making him turn his head at her. "We can do sahmethin' abooeht it."

Shaking his head, Morgan scoffed with a slight derisive smile finding home on his mouth as he asked: "But how many others are still out there, hmm? Huntin' and killin'? he rebuked darkly, "I mean, the thing is, no matter what we do... no matter how hard we work, no matter how good we are at what we do this is never gonna end."

Emily straightened. So, Morgan was questioning everything - the reality he thought he knew because they had stumbled upon something bigger than any of them had realised.

"How much of this have you seen in your career, Quinn?"

Her expression levelled out slightly at Morgan's question, but she narrowed her eyes playfully at the taller woman and Emily tried her best to ignore the chill rolling off of her spine. "Mahre dan I'd like to admit," Siobhán corrected quietly, a troubled look shadowing her face as their eyes met for a second. "It doesn't end. All we can do is apprehend one at a time boeht dere'll always be anahther." She squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, running her hands over her face, as she shook her head, "Ahbviooehsly."

Interest piqued again, Emily folded her arms across her chest as she held the redhead's gaze. "What sort of career have you had anyway?" She kept her voice low but firm as she pressed.

The redhead huffed an amused snort, her eyes smiling as she moved to tuck a strand of coppery hair behind her ear. "An incredebly fahrtunate one." Siobhán laughed, but there was a slight catch in her breath, "Mahre dan I cooehld 'ave ever expected."

"That you earned or that you were spoon-fed?" she probed, although it was needless, exasperation colouring her tone. She didn't need the way Morgan's head snapped in her direction either.

Siobhán watched her for a moment before she threw her head back and laughed, her hand coming out to land softly on Emily's forearm. "Far frahm it," she chuckled, rolling her eyes and not rising to the bait that had Emily's gritting her teeth through a pained smile.

"Prentiss, I swear-" Morgan started but was soundly cut off.

"It's ahkay," Siobhán assured, still laughing at her incredulity. "I've wahrked 'ard to be where I am... especially frahm where I've come," she said moving away from Emily finally, letting her hand drop but she didn't miss the way the redhead's eyes seemed to brighten in amusement as she dragged her gaze from her to Morgan once last time, running them over Emily's face before she hummed, "Dink what yer want o' me, Emily - it doesn't bahther me boeht troehst me when I say nahthin' 'as been easy."

Swallowing thickly, Emily could feel her frustration festering inside of her the longer those swirling emerald orbs glinted at her.

Looking between the pair of them, Morgan heaved a heavy sigh and moved off, obviously having had enough of the display which left Emily alone to linger with Siobhán who seemed less than bothered by her attempts to irritate her.

Great, Emily grimaced with an eye roll.

Taking a deep breath, the brunette smoothed her palms down the sides of her trousers and made to follow Morgan before she felt a soft touch of fingertips circling around her. left forearm again, very similar to moments before. It was gone within the next second and she turned in annoyance just as Siobhán leaned in to whisper, "Yer can 'ahld yooehr groehdge against me, I dahn't mend."

Blinking, Emily's forehead creased as she absorbed Siobhán's words slowly, staring as the redhead's face melted back into a reserved grin before she brushed past Emily to follow Morgan as though nothing had transpired.

"Got some markings up ahead there," a muffled voice buzzed through the comms and filled her ears before adding: "The tree line."

The brunette sighed, her eyes still lingering on where Siobhán hovered mere inches from her. "He must have gone in the water."

The redhead groaned, her frustration swiftly rising into the air as she glanced around them. "Well, if de dahgs lahse dat scent, it's gahnna be nahthin' boeht a needle in a beg ahld 'aystack dat we really dahn't need," she warned lowly.

Emily tilted her head up to look at Siobhán in surprise before Morgan let out a long-suffering sigh from beside her that had Emily lifting an eyebrow expectantly. "Maybe we should split up, then... take either side of the stream," Emily suggested with a dismissive wave of her hand, "He might have come back out somewhere up there."

Brown eyes narrowed contemplatively as Morgan measured her words, walking slowly to let her catch up with him, a frown falling over his face as he considered something for a few short moments. "As long as I don't have to hang out at that damn pig farm, I'm good."

"Snap." Siobhán grimaced, "I'll keep clahse to de bank, if yer goehys want to take de terrain…"

The redhead started off, pressing forward with increased pace whilst the pair of them slowed and turned to start making off in the opposite direction. "I know what you're doin'..." Morgan's voice rose up into the air after a few moments, laced with accusation once Siobhán was far enough away to not hear him.

Emily closed her eyes and tipped her head back, holding in a groan of frustration at herself more than him. She should have known this was coming, that he would be reprimand her for pushing Siobhán again but she couldn't help it. Something was off.

"What'd you mean?" Emily retorted with a raised eyebrow and calling on all the patience she could muster, knowing that playing the idiot wasn't going to help her case, continuing on her way through the uneven earth as though it would help distract her.

Morgan immediately shot her a disapproving look, coming to a firm halt. "Still givin' Quinn the cold shoulder n' all that. It won't work," he insisted, grabbing her arm to force her to stop moving and focus on him. "Even Jayje's comin' around to her."

She crossed her arms over her chest, the same eyebrow quirked. "She's the newbie, Morgan," Emily offered with a weak shrug of her shoulders. "I'm going to have questions."

"Questions?" Morgan's mouth fell open on a choked laugh, "Those are questions? It sounds more like an interrogation!" He shook his head, disbelief taking firm root on his face as he studied her, pursing his lips. "Bein' the newbie doesn't mean shit, Prentiss. You were never treated that way," Morgan sighed in defeat. "Just try, that's all I'm askin'."

Emily snorted darkly before rolling her eyes and throwing her hands up into the air. "What'd you want me to do? Shake her hand?" Morgan laughed lightly at the way she continued to exaggeratedly roll her eyes but it made her feel better. "Play pretend and start over?"

Morgan shot her a warm look as he sobered, "Look, Emily," he slung a strong arm over her shoulders and sighed again, "I don't really care what you do but you can't keep this up," he warned softly, pulling her along with him reluctantly. "It's going to the affect the team..."

"So," Emily started, unsure if she hated how persuasive Morgan could be or how genuinely inquisitive she sounded despite knowing exactly where the conversation was going.

The arm around her shoulders grew heavier, Morgan's fingers curling to clutch in what Emily knew what meant to be a comforting gesture. "So," Morgan lowly intoned, "You can't let this rivalry or- or whatever it is come between us."

Emily could feel his gaze boring into her, waiting patiently for her answer, even though she knew that her thoughts were more than likely visible across her face without even needing to voice them. "I'm not like you," she murmured softly after a few moments in a grumble. "I won't trust someone just because they're pretty."

The arm at her shoulders fled immediately. "Whoa!"

When she met Morgan's gaze, she wasn't surprised to be met with the feigned hurt expression he so-often gave her. "Low blow, princess." He clutched a palm against his chest despite the grin poking through the corner's of his mouth.

"No!" she denied, "That's not- I just-" she bit her lip, abruptly cutting herself off when Morgan tilted his head at her and chuckled. "That's not at all what I meant."

Though he was still grinning like a man possessed, Morgan eventually relented. "What is it, then?" He reached out and gave her arm a squeeze in reassurance.

Sucking in a deep breath through her nose, Emily momentarily squeezed her eyes shut tightly and desperately wished that Morgan would just abandon the conversation and forget it altogether but when did Derek Morgan ever listen to her? "Look," she breathed out tentatively, "Something just feels off with her and I don't know what it is but I feel something in my gut and I trust my gut, I always have done, okay?" She risked opening her eyes and found him staring right back at her. "With Katie Jacobs, I trusted my gut and when I was held hostage by Benjamin Cyrus..."

She trailed off, biting her lip as she glanced away from him and blinked, the familiar danger of tears creeping into the corner of her vision before she looked to him again.

"When John knew something had happened to Matthew," Emily bit out, her lip trembling. "I trusted my gut then and I trust it now."

Morgan had fallen completely silent, shifting slightly next to her as a forlorn expression fell across his brow. "Okay, okay..." he moved to rub a hand across her back, pulling her into his side. "I get it, I just, I..." Instead of answering, he opted for a weak shrug. "I just thought that Rossi might've gotten through to you, that's all."

Brown eyes widened incredulously, "How do you know about that?" Emily flushed, annoyed with herself for thinking that the team wouldn't talk about it behind her back seeing as she was being so obvious. "For fuck sake..." she let out in a low grumble.

The man beside her offered her a small smile, "You were actin' off and it was buggin' the hell out of me... Rossi felt the same way," he shook his head slightly, gaze calm and thoughtful as he perused her face. "So, c'mon..." Morgan implored with an amused chuckle, "What is it you don't like about her?"

"I can't put my finger on it."

Morgan lifted an eyebrow before he nodded in slow understanding, "Just you with this feeling?" Emily hesitated a few moments at his question as she considered if there was any point in pretending that anyone else on the team felt the same way before she relinquished her pride and gave a slight shake of her head. "Then, you should listen to the man," he urged instantly, her eyes flying to his at the forcefulness of his request.

Emily gave him an unwavering stare for a few long moments as she registered his words and allowed her own incredulity to wash over her face as she contemplated in appeasing Morgan to make everyone's lives easier than persisting with her feeling

It just made no sense and the familiarity of what Strauss had asked of her when she first came to the team came rushing back to the surface - there was no opening on the team and yet, Siobhán had mustered her way right in with little effort and she doubted it was deserving either. But what she found frustrated her more was despite her need to overstep obvious boundaries to feel sated, she was looking out for her friends - for her team! - but Morgan's expression had her biting her lip in defeat. The team liked her, they had warmed to her...

Choosing to bury her overwhelming desire to argue, Emily let out a shudder as she acknowledged defeat. "Fine," she murmured in eventuality, letting her shoulders drop and refusing to meet Morgan's eyes and see triumph in their depths which she knew would only infuriate her. "But, I do have a lot of questions."

Slowly glancing up, Morgan shot her a roll of his eyes before letting a dark chuckle work its way past his lips. "I'm sure you do."

"And," Emily warned lowly, shrugging his arm off her back as she squared her shoulders. "Don't go around expecting me to become her best friend or anything like that," she retorted with a dangerous glower flashing, knowing that more often than not, the male agent could leave in a dream world and if he wanted to become that close with the other woman, it didn't mean that she had to.

She just had to tolerate her presence at work and then she could forget about her the rest of the time - which was going to have to be good enough for Emily.

When she looked over at Morgan again, she groaned at the smirk he wore proudly. "I won't hold you to it." He shot her a wink.

"Mahrgan, Prentess..."

Familiar Irish tones filtered through the comms that held an air of curiosity to them which had them both on alert the moment they heard them. "What is it?" Emily replied, glancing at Morgan who wore a deep frown.

They continued to creep through the undergrowth, glancing around them expectantly to try and spot where Siobhán was not too far from them, catching mere glimpses of hair with the distant panting of dogs.

"I've gaht sahmeone sneakin' arooehnd ahead o' me," Siobhán's hushed tones offered a few moments later, "Reckahn arooehnd dirty yards ahr so... wooehld say meddle-aged white male."

Righting himself, Morgan zipped up his anorak all the way. "Copy that, Red."

"If yer goehys splet, we can flank 'im frahm all sides... shooehld be an easy take down." She went quiet again as Morgan slowly began to edge away from Emily to take the right side. "Den, we'll go frahm dere."

Casting her eyes around herself, Emily shuddered as she continued forward until she heard Morgan's voice creeping into her ear and no longer from her side.

"On my count..." Morgan announced from somewhere.

"'Kay, boyo..." Siobhán affirmed curtly, coming slowly into view from Emily's left. "Less dan ten yards away frahm yer..."

"Three... two... one..."

"Mahrgan!"

Racing through the tree-line, Morgan flew past Emily like a whippet with his arms outstretched as he clasped them around the man's middle with a startling amount of force, knocking them both to their feet as they rolled down the soft incline of the hill, shouts rising up into the air at the collision with Siobhán skidding down the sodden ground after them, a panicked expression flooding her face and eyes widening.

"Mahrgan!" the redhead bellowed in dread, propelling after the two men to try and catch up to them, "Stahp!"

Stop? Emily frowned, rushing after Siobhán as she dodged branches and rotten trunks of trees to follow the men as they continued to tumble. Why was she telling him to stop?

Siobhán reached the bottom first, roughly reaching the pair in her desperation to pull them apart but in the heat of the moment, an elbow was sent flying into her face, knocking her backwards.

"Shit..." Emily bit out, knowing she didn't really have any other choice.

Reaching for her firearm, Emily hastily withdrew it from its holster and aimed. "FBI!" she yelled urgently, bounding in after Morgan as he and the man rolled in the undergrowth, grasping at one another's collar until he got the upper hand and made to bring down a fist on Morgan's face. "Do not move!" she warned, finally getting his attention as he paused and glanced over his shoulder at her.

Time seemed to slow then - the man seemed to realise, cautiously lowering his fist and deflating as his eyes slowly swept around him to take in the scene gathering as he knelt on the sodden earth.

The man who they soon recognised to be Arthur Lang, a local who Emily had seen Jayjye interview earlier, was hunched over on the ground after having kicked Morgan away from him roughly. "What the hell is wrong with you?" Lang glared in disbelief, reaching for his fallen cap in haste before brushing down his front of dirt and moss.

Morgan blanched sheepishly, brushing himself down as he climbed to his feet. "I'm sorry, Mister..."

"Lang," the man grumbled out, accepting the hand that Morgan held out to him as he was pulled to his feet. "Sorry 'bout that," he gestured in the direction of Siobhán's bloody up lip with a deep sigh, "Didn't expect any roughousin' today."

Shaking her head, the redhead gave a dismissive shrug and wiped away the blood. "We're cahndoehctin' a search party, so we assumed..." Siobhán let out in a strangled sigh, her voice quiet and sincere as Emily watched her meet Morgan's gaze awkwardly.

Lang narrowed his eyes, pulling his cap onto his head once he had removed all the leaves and little bits of undergrowth from it. "Assumed what?" he demanded, glowering at the three of them. "That anyone is a target?"

Inching forward, Emily opened her mouth to automatically refute at his words until Siobhán shrugged her behind her shoulder. "Dat yer may 'ave been de persahn we're lookin' fahr..." she explained softly, her tone lowering into a quiet reasoning that Emily knew she would have struggled to hold at that moment.

Lang held her gaze for a long moment before jerking his head in Morgan's direction, "But he jumped me?" he insisted, clearly agitated before scoffing, shaking his head in disbelief. "You know what, it doesn't even matter... can I go?" he acquiesced, eyeing their vests dubiously. "I told the other agent everything I knew about the terrain earlier..."

"Uh, not yet, sir." Coughing to clear his throat, Morgan reached into the back pockets of his jeans to retrieve the photo of Lucas and offered it carefully to Emily which allowed her to move freely from where the redhead had shielded - for what reason, she didn't really care for.

Morgan told her to make an effort, so she didn't really have much choice in the matter; she figured if she did persist, it would only land her conversation in Hotch's office.

Emily hedged forwards and took the photo from Morgan and offered it to Lang, "Have you seen this man?" the brunette let out in a breath.

As Lang looked over the image, a quick, harsh laugh escaped him before he could help it as he quickly nodded his head and looked between the pair of them, reaching for the fallen sack at his feet. "Well, that's Lucas Turner, that is," he acknowledged firmly.

Siobhán quirked an eyebrow and started forward again, "Yer know 'im?" she pressed as firmly as she could.

"Oh, everybody knows Lucas," Lang affirmed with a slight nod of his head, a small smile crossing his face fleetingly. "He's- he's a little soft in the head, y'know what I mean?" He paused and tapped at his temple, moving to then take a firm grasp on the sack before hauling it over his shoulder. "But I'm sure if you guys just wait around long enough, he'll wander back home... I really have to go, can I?"

Reluctantly, Siobhán gave a decisive nod. "Dank yer, ser."

The three of them retreated as they watched Arthur Lang moved off from where they had fell, casting one last glare in Morgan's direction as he did which had the other man groaning in embarrassment.

"So, what'd you think's in that bag?"

"I'm pretty sure I don't want to know." Morgan offered her grimace as they watched Lang move off further into the forest before he turned, his brow dropping in what Emily thought was concern. "Everythin' alright, Quinn?"

Stifling the groan that threatened to push past her lips, Emily swung around to see the redhead lingering a few feet from them with her hands steepled against her chin, a deep frown pulling across her face.

Having realised that she was being observed, Siobhán stepped back and closed her eyes to ground herself from what Emily guessed as she then moved to crossed her arms over her chest before lifting her eyebrows and Emily knew there was already more she wanted to know before the redhead even spoke.

"Ded yer 'ear what 'e said? Lucas is a lettle sahft in de 'ead... right? It's joehst sahmethin' Rahssi said to 'Ahtch and me... Masahn said to 'im we shooehldn't even bahther tryin' to reasahn wit Lucas 'nd shooehld shoot first boeht de way Lang joehst described 'im…" she elaborated on, even though Sansa already knew what she meant.

Despite herself, Emily's eyebrows rose, impressed by the observation and having not really expected the woman to be that alert. "You reckon Mason's said that to tie up loose ends?"

She could feel Siobhán's eyes on her as the three of them walked, and she willed herself to not meet them as quickly as her senses were nudging her to and thankfully, when she did the redhead was looking around them instead. "It wooehldn't make any sense ahtherwise," Siobhán murmured, peering up through long lashes at Emily before letting her green eyes roll hard, "Dere's definitely a reasahn behend it," she asserted, and her voice was perhaps the strongest Emily had heard it since their earlier altercation.

Morgan slowly nodded in understanding, looking as though he was replaying her words over in his mind before he cleared his throat, "C'mon, let's keep goin'..."

Another loose end... Emily inwardly mused as they fell into rhythm with one another, keeping their eyes alerting and floating around them as they perused the tree line for any other movements similar to their own. Definitely a needle in a haystack...

...

Their wandering was - thankfully - cut short again when they all heard the familiar husky tones of their boss, voice erupting through the canopy not too far away from where they were ambling through the undergrowth.

"We've searched here!"

Rossi was the next voice they heard: "That's where the signal is, should be right around here!"

"Guys!" Morgan shouted, rushing once he caught clear sight of them which was enough to spur Emily to follow him whilst she felt Siobhán start in the direction Reid hovered. "You've got somethin'?" He glanced between them all hurriedly, hope seeping into his gaze.

"He should be right here."

"Yer sure?" Siobhán frowned, turning on the spot as she met Reid.

Hotch gave a firm nod, running an impatient hand over his brow. "This is where the signal came from."

"Well," Morgan huffed, rushing around the open space in confusion. "There's nothing here!"

As Emily rushed to get her bearings, a chorus of Kellys erupted into the air as the team began to call for the missing girl with the hope that they would hear something, that they would find something that would lead them to her.

But nothing - only silence replied.

"It makes no sense..." Reid let out frustratedly, shaking his head. "It doesn't make sense..."

Pausing in her movements, Emily looked back over to Reid who hadn't ventured far from the open space they had all been rushing about moments ago, surveying the deep pensive look he was battling with. "What doesn't make sense?" She searched his face, ignoring Hotch's calls for everyone to split up and begin searching with the intention of finding Kelly.

Gaping around them, Reid sighed as he saw the other members of the team begin to sweep the area, "I theorised that he would be incredibly childlike..." he trailed off, obviously irritated with himself, his fidgeting becoming more erratic as he mulled over his thoughts to reach a conclusion.

Emily couldn't stop her face from crumpling in confusion, "Right?" She looked to Siobhán who was hanging off of Reid's every word.

"And that if we found him, he'd probably be scared and confused about what was going on..." Reid trailed off, furiously tapping his temples with the pads of his fingers as he racked his brain. "That he wouldn't really understand the depth of what he's done."

"Reid," Siobhán grasped his arm firmly, yanking it from his temple to pull his attention to her. "Lucas is very cheldlike, yeah?" The young doctor nodded urgently, meeting her gaze instantly as the redhead hummed, "What wooehld a cheld do if dey dooehght dey were in danger? If dey were scared?"

Reid's eyes widened, "They would hide."

Watching the pair of them rush around her, Emily halted as leaves went flying up into the air before they started stomping their feet against the earth in quick succession, sweeping leaves with their arms to clear the ground so they could see better in their hurried movements. What's going on? Emily wasn't entirely sure if there was some unspoken language between the pair of them but she definitely didn't heard them reach a conclusion that would make sense for their sudden change in erratic behaviour.

"What the-"

Rushing to meet her, Emily met Siobhán's gaze easily as the redhead shrugged, "Where wooehld yer 'ide in de woods?"

"Where do we even start with that?"

Taking in the scene a few yards from him, Hotch's voice bellowed across the space in vexation: "Reid, we don't have time for this! We need to hurry!"

The young doctor ignored him, tapping at his temples again as he went about pressing his feet into the earth as if testing it.

Continuing with her movements, Siobhán kicked at fallen branches and pushing away bundle after bundle of leaves as she swept around the open space that sat before the canopy of treets. "Well, we 'ad a treehouse growin' oehp in Ireland boeht me ahlder brahther used to 'ide in an oehndergrooehnd dugooeht me great grandfather made befahre de war..." Siobhán explained thoughtfully, moving more leaves with an exasperated sigh.

Reid glanced at her, "How common are those?"

"Give ahr take, I guess… I wooehldn't know."

Reid halted suddenly, his eyes fixed on the earth beneath his feet before he tentatively tapped again. As if achieving some reassurance, his eyes flew to Siobhán in an instant and their shared a look of mutual understanding before she crawled to where he hovered and began sweeping away moldy leaves, cracked branches and dirt until her hands peeled away a weathered, rotten hatch pressed into the earth.

Laughing in disbelief more than anything, Emily shook her head. "Really?"

Siobhán offered a sheepish shrug of her shoulders before she rushed to grasp the latch in hands, kneeling back on her knees to brace herself as she hauled at the wooden hatch in the ground with a grimace, gritting her teeth.

"Guys!" the young doctor called out to the rest of the team as the door loosened.

Hearing the echo of running, Emily threw her eyes left to see Hotch dashing back through the tree line with Morgan to where the redhead was knelt in the mud, skidding to a sharp halt as he bent over the hole in the ground. "Kelly Shane?" Hotch demanded to no one, his voice echoing down into its depths as they waited.

"Down here!"

The hoarse voice of a young girl was all Hotch need to hear in affirmation before he was clambering down into the dug-out, Morgan racing down after him along with two armed officers

"Lucas Turner, this is the FBI!"

"Keep your hands up, Lucas," the young girl cooed out to the man Emily assumed was Lucas, "They won't hurt you!"

Moments later, Hotch reappeared with a petite auburn-haired girl, hurriedly urging her up through the dug-out's entrance and back into daylight, Reid eagerly helping her out as both emerged safe until a chorus of shouts from Morgan erupted from below in sheer panic followed by several resounding and altogether familiar echoes of gunshots.

Swallowing, the brunette squeezed her eyes shut tightly and kneaded the ground her palms, already knowing what had occurred. "They didn't..."

Clenching her jaw, Siobhán sucked in a sharp breath from her side. "'e cooehldn't 'elp it," she bit out sourly, causing Emily to look over at her and see the blatant repulse find home across her face, its shadow settling in the depths of her eyes. "'e was scared... defenceless, and dey ded it anyway."

Siobhán threw Emily a look of utter defeat, pushing back on her thighs with her hands before rising to her feet and knocking the wire out of her ear, slowly turning on her heel to wander away from the hatch with her shoulders drooping.

Emily stared after her, watching as she reached into her back pocket and slowly withdrew her mobile and then, moments later tucking it away again and shaking her head at whatever was flashing across its screen.

She would try for Morgan's sake to make an effort with her for the team but that didn't mean she would let the nature of her arrival in the unit just slide because it was what he wanted. Siobhán had to prove her intentions, just like she had to do in the beginning - then, maybe Emily would be more inclined to think of her other than a threat.

A threat to the team, not her. That was what she had to convince them all of...

---

Chapter V Preview:

Hotch and Siobhán go MIA after the case at the Turner farm which leaves the team worried when neither of them show up for their new case; Emily volunteers to seek them out but uncovers something darker which leaves her questioning her own choices.