Author's note: This is the 3rd story in my untitled series (I really should name it but based on my stories titles I'm sure you can tell that naming thing is not my strong suit). This story can be read on it's own but I do suggest reading the first two because there might be element of the story that I don't in depth because they've already been covered.

Thank you so much to everyone who's been following along, I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

The jet's interior lights flickered to life, casting a harsh glow over the weary faces of the BAU team as they filed aboard. Outside, the tarmac glistened with a fine mist, the November chill seeping through their coats. JJ settled into her seat, her thoughts already drifting to the warm home she'd left behind.

"So much for my famous turkey," Rossi lamented, easing his frame into the plush leather. "The poker game of the century, postponed."

Hotch's lips quirked in a rare half-smile. "I was looking forward to Jessica's pumpkin pie. At least Jack will get to enjoy it."

JJ felt a pang of guilt, picturing Henry's chubby hands reaching for her. "Will promised not to let Henry crack his first wishbone until I get back." she mused, her voice tinged with regret.

As the others settled in, discussing thwarted plans and missed opportunities, JJ found her gaze drawn to Emily. Her friend sat apart, her dark eyes fixed on some distant point beyond the window. There was a tension in her shoulders, a subtle withdrawal that JJ recognized all too well.

"You okay?" JJ asked softly, leaning across the aisle.

Emily started, as if pulled from deep thought. "Yeah, fine," she replied, the words falling flat even to her own ears. "Just... thinking."

JJ nodded, understanding the weight behind those simple words. She knew the struggles Emily had faced since her return, the careful dance of reconnecting with a life she'd left behind. There was more to it, JJ sensed, layers of complexity that Emily kept carefully guarded.

"We're here if you need us," JJ offered, her voice low and sincere. "All of us."

Emily's smile was fleeting but genuine. "I know. Thanks, JJ."

As the jet began to taxi, JJ settled back, her mind churning. She caught Derek's eye across the aisle, noting the subtle tightness around his mouth, the way his gaze flickered between Emily and his phone. JJ felt the familiar weight of secrets pressing down, wondering how long they could all maintain this delicate balance before something gave way.

The engines roared to life, drowning out further conversation. JJ closed her eyes, allowing the familiar vibrations to wash over her. Another case, another Thanksgiving away from home. But as she glanced around at her team—her family—she realized that perhaps home wasn't always about a place, but the people who stood beside you in the darkest moments.

Emily Prentiss stared out the window of the jet, her reflection a ghostly overlay against the tarmac's blinking lights. The emptiness of her apartment awaited her return, a stark reminder of the life she'd left behind or more-so the absence of one. Her fingers absently traced the outline of her phone in her pocket, each unanswered message a silent accusation.

JJ's soft voice broke through her reverie. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Emily turned, meeting JJ's concerned gaze. She opened her mouth to deflect, to hide behind the walls she'd so carefully constructed, but something in JJ's expression—a mixture of understanding and unwavering support—caused those walls to crumble.

"Everything is fine," Emily said, her voice barely audible over the engine's hum. She hesitated, then added, "I was supposed to have dinner with my parents tomorrow. It would have been the first time I'd seen them since..."

JJ nodded, understanding the unspoken weight of those words. "I'm sorry, you must be disappointed."

Emily laughed, a hollow sound that didn't reach her eyes. "That's the problem. I'm not. I was so grateful when we got called in." She bit her lower lip, a habit that surfaced when she felt vulnerable. "What does that say about me, JJ? That someone has to go through the worst day of their life for me to have a good one?"

JJ's hand found Emily's, squeezing gently. "It doesn't say anything, Em."

Emily sighed, her gaze drifting back to the window. "It's not just that. Lately, I keep thinking about the people I've left behind. Not just recently, but... before. The ones I chose to walk away from."

As she spoke, Emily's mind wandered to faces she'd tried to forget, choices that still haunted her dreams. The weight of unsaid words hung heavy in the air between them.

JJ leaned closer, her voice low and reassuring. "You did what you had to do, Emily. To protect them, to protect yourself."

Emily nodded, grateful for JJ's understanding, even as she wondered how much her friend truly knew. The jet lifted off, carrying them towards another case, another tragedy. And as the ground fell away beneath them, Emily couldn't help but feel she was running once again, from a past that refused to let her go.

Emily turned back to JJ, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Did I?" Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper. "Sometimes I wonder if I always take the easy way out. Avoid, detach... I'm doing it again now."

JJ's hand remained steady on Emily's arm, an anchor in the storm of her emotions. "You've been through something traumatic, Em. It's okay to feel disconnected. It won't be forever."

Emily nodded, grateful for JJ's understanding. But beneath the surface, a deeper pain throbbed—the memory of a small, warm bundle in her arms seven years ago, and the wrenching decision that followed. She absently straightened the edge of her sleeve, a futile attempt to order her chaotic thoughts.

"It's not just that," Emily murmured, her gaze fixed on the curve of the horizon outside the window. "There's this... weight. Like I'm carrying around all these ghosts."

JJ leaned in, her voice soft. "What kind of ghosts?"

Emily's fingers twitched, longing for the comfort of a nail to bite. Instead, she clasped her hands tightly in her lap. "The kind that have your eyes," she whispered, the admission feeling like both a release and a burden.

JJ nodded, unsure what to say as she digested Emily's words.

"I'm here now," Emily said after a moment, as much to herself as to JJ. She turned, meeting her friend's compassionate gaze. "I just need to figure out how to live with the choices I've made."

Before JJ could respond, Hotch's voice cut through the intimate moment. "JJ, Prentiss, we're starting the briefing."

Emily quickly wiped her eyes, composing herself with practised efficiency. As she slid into the booth next to Morgan, she offered him a half-smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. The file before her became a welcome distraction, a problem to solve that wasn't her own tangled past.

Garcia's face appeared on the laptop screen, her usual vibrant energy a stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere. "Happy Thanksgiving, crime-fighting critters! Or maybe not so happy, because there are two kids missing in Michigan."

Emily's breath caught in her throat. Children. Always the cases with children that cut the deepest.

"Siblings Benjamin and Robyn Duvall were reported missing by their grandmother when she returned home from making pies at a neighbour's house," Garcia continued, her fingers flying over her keyboard.

As the team leaned in to listen, Emily found herself fixating on the name. Robyn. So close to the name she'd whispered to that warm bundle seven years ago, before handing her over to a life of safety and anonymity. She wondered, not for the first time, if her current struggle to reconnect was penance for that choice.

"What time, Garcia?" Hotch asked, his voice cutting through Emily's reverie.

"That would be 7, however she noticed them missing around 4:30," Garcia replied, her usual exuberance tempered by the gravity of the situation.

Rossi leaned forward, brow furrowed. "What happened between 4:30 and 7?"

"They looked on their own, figured they'd gone off together," Garcia explained, her voice tinged with a mix of sympathy and frustration.

JJ's soft voice broke through the tension. "That might be something they do often, if their grandmother's first instinct was to look around town."

"Might be worth asking," Emily added, her words automatic as her mind raced. She glanced up at Hotch, intending to gauge his reaction, but found his gaze locked elsewhere. Following his line of sight, she noticed Morgan, uncharacteristically quiet and fidgeting anxiously.

Emily's profiler instincts kicked in, overriding her personal turmoil. Something was off with Derek. His usually composed demeanour was visibly shaken, drawing concerned glances from their colleagues. As she observed him, she caught his nervous glances in her direction, quickly averted when she tried to meet his eyes.

What's going on with you, Derek? Emily thought, her mind cycling through possible explanations. Is it the case? Or something else?

She bit her lower lip, a habit she'd never quite shaken. The taste of copper filled her mouth, grounding her in the present moment. Whatever was bothering Morgan, now wasn't the time to address it. They had two missing children to find.

Just as the tension in the jet threatened to become unbearable, Reid's voice cut through the silence, rapid-fire statistics tumbling from his lips. "Monroe, Michigan, has a population of approximately 15,000 people. And statistically speaking, in cases of non-family abductions, 74% of victims are female, 80% are white, and..."

Emily found herself oddly comforted by Reid's familiar pattern of fact-sharing. It was a constant in their chaotic world, a reminder that some things remained unchanged even as everything else seemed to shift beneath her feet.

As Reid continued his statistical analysis, Emily's gaze drifted back to the case file. Two young faces stared back at her, their eyes filled with an innocence that made her heart ache. She couldn't help but wonder about their lives, their dreams, their fears. And underneath it all, a question burned in her mind, one she both dreaded and needed to ask.

"Where are the children's parents?" The words left her mouth before she could stop them, her voice steadier than she felt.

Garcia's response came through the screen, her usual vibrancy muted by the gravity of the situation. "Mother passed away about three years ago, and their father is a commercial pilot. He's in the air at the moment but is aware of the situation and on his way home."

Emily felt a pang in her chest, her fingers instinctively moving to straighten the edge of the file before her. "I can't imagine," JJ murmured beside her, voicing the thought that echoed in Emily's mind.

The team's discussion intensified, each member contributing their expertise. Emily found herself hyper-aware of every word, every gesture, as if by focusing on the details she could keep her own tumultuous emotions at bay.

"No ransom demand has been made," Hotch stated, his brow furrowed. "That's unusual for a targeted abduction."

Emily leaned forward, her nail finding its way to her mouth before she caught herself. "There's also the logistical challenge," she pointed out, forcing her hands flat on the table. "Subduing two children, especially siblings, wouldn't be easy. They'd likely fight back, create noise."

As Reid began sketching out a preliminary geographic profile, Emily's mind raced. She couldn't shake the image of two frightened children, alone in the dark. It hit too close to home, stirring memories she'd rather keep buried.

Hotch's voice cut through her thoughts as he began assigning roles. "Local law enforcement are meeting at the grandmother's house. Morgan, Prentiss and JJ, you'll come with me to interview Darla Duvall and take a look around the house. Rossi and Reid, start canvassing the neighbourhood."

Emily nodded, stealing a glance at Morgan. His usual composed demeanour was noticeably absent, replaced by a tension she couldn't quite place. As the briefing concluded, she watched him abruptly excuse himself, practically fleeing to the jet's bathroom.

JJ moved to follow him, concern etched on her face, but Hotch intercepted her. Emily strained to hear their hushed conversation, catching fragments about her and Morgan.

"Nothing... Emily's having a hard day... no clue what's going on with him," JJ's words drifted over.

Emily turned away, her chest tightening. She'd thought she'd hidden her turmoil better. And Morgan... what was going on with him? As the jet began its descent, Emily found herself caught between concern for her friend and the gnawing fear that somehow, inexplicably, this case was about to unravel everything she'd fought so hard to keep together.

Derek Morgan stared at his reflection in the jet's cramped bathroom, his brown eyes haunted by the weight of knowledge he never asked for. The fluorescent light cast harsh shadows across his face, accentuating the lines of worry etched into his forehead. He ran a hand over his shaved head, a nervous habit that betrayed his inner turmoil.

His gaze flickered to his phone, perched precariously on the edge of the sink. The screen remained stubbornly dark, offering no answers to the questions that plagued him. "Come on," he muttered, willing it to light up with a message, any message that might guide him through this moral labyrinth.

A sharp knock on the door jolted him from his reverie. Reid's voice, tinged with concern, filtered through. "Morgan? We're about to land."

Derek took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Be right out, Pretty Boy," he called back, his voice betraying none of the turmoil roiling beneath the surface.

As he exited the bathroom, Derek's eyes immediately sought out Emily. She sat poised and focused, seemingly unaware of the secret that threatened to shatter her world. He slid into his seat, acutely aware of the distance between them—physical and emotional.

"You okay?" Emily asked, her dark eyes searching his face.

Derek forced a smile. "Yeah, just... thinking about the case." The lie tasted bitter on his tongue.

As the jet began its descent, Derek's phone vibrated in his pocket. With trembling fingers, he pulled it out, heart racing as he read the cryptic message from an unknown number: If you haven't told her yet, now is not the time.

His breath caught in his throat.

"Everything alright?" Emily's voice cut through his thoughts, concern evident in her tone.

Derek pocketed the phone hastily. "Just my sister," he lied again, hating himself for the deception. "Wishing me a Happy Thanksgiving."

"We can all be thankful when we locate these missing children," Rossi chimed in, refocusing the conversation back to the task at hand.

As the team prepared to disembark, Derek grabbed his go-bag, his movements mechanical. The weight of the secret pressed down on him, heavier than any piece of luggage. He glanced at Emily one last time, wondering if this case would be the one to bring everything crashing down around them.

"After you," he said, gesturing for her to precede him off the jet. As she passed, the faint scent of her perfume wafted by, a poignant reminder of all that hung in the balance. Derek swallowed hard, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead in Monroe, Michigan—a town that held secrets neither of them were prepared to face.

Thank you for reading!