AU: I thought I had fixed the issues I was having with my chapter uploads but it appears not... if you're seeing this story, you're probably one of the few people that can access it.
Chapter 6
Emily followed Hotch through the hallway, anxiety needling its way through her body like splinters. Each step heightened the sensation that the floor beneath her feet was nothing more than a thin sheet of ice, ready to crack under the weight of truths best left submerged. The words she'd heard from the victims' father echoed in her mind, ghostly reminders of what she had tried so hard to forget. Marshall's observation haunted her as she lingered by the doorway, hesitating when Hotch gestured her inside. "Take a seat," he ordered, the sharpness in his voice unsettling. She watched, unmoving, as he shut the blinds. The more he enclosed them in privacy, the more suffocated she felt.
"Emily, please sit," Hotch asked again, his voice losing its earlier edge. There was a softening in his demeanor, a somberness in his eyes that nudged Emily toward the armchairs. He settled across from her, perching on a desk like someone poised to break difficult news. The room felt too small, like it could hardly contain the gravity of what was about to be said. She lowered herself into the seat, though her spine remained straight and rigid, her eyes wide and fearful, never leaving Hotch as he took a moment to organize his thoughts.
"You gave a child up for adoption."
It wasn't a question.
The directness of his words almost cut through her, leaving Emily breathless. She narrowed her eyes, her heart pounding louder and louder. How could he know? She bit her lip and gave a slow nod, her mind spinning as it tried to anticipate what would come next.
Hotch seemed to grapple with his own composure, words struggling to find their way to his usual confidence. "This won't be easy to hear… the missing girl, Robyn, she's your daughter."
His voice was steady but felt a million miles away. The words dropped like stones into her consciousness, each one creating a new and jarring ripple. Emily blinked, trying to bring the room back into focus as her vision tunneled and her ears rang. Robyn. Her daughter? The air was thick with her silence, and Emily realized it had filled the space between them, making it almost tangible.
"Do you understand? I need you to say something." Hotch's voice came back into sharp focus, drawing her mind away from its inward spirals.
"How do you know?" she asked, each word dragging itself into existence with painful effort. "You wouldn't be telling me this if you weren't certain, but how?"
"Morgan found her while he was looking for Doyle's son, earlier this year."
Morgan. Of course, it was Morgan. Another layer peeled away, revealing the depth of betrayal. So this was what he had kept secret all along. No wonder he had been behaving as though something monumental hovered just out of her view. She grappled with this new blow, unable to string more than the barest words together.
"He's sure?" was all she could manage.
"You'll have to speak with him for details, but yes," Hotch replied.
At this moment, nothing felt real to Emily. The room, Hotch, even the chair she sat in seemed to blur at the edges, existing just beyond the grasp of her comprehension. She heard the words. They hung in the air. She understood them, but the enormity was too much to take in all at once.
"Emily, I'm very sorry."
The gentleness of Hotch's apology shifted everything once again, bringing her focus back to the present, back to what was most immediate. It was like he had thrown a line into the storm inside her, pulling her to the surface. Her daughter. Missing. In danger. The knowledge settled heavily on her, squeezing tears from her eyes, robbing her of the breaths she desperately tried to take. She couldn't break down now, not in front of him. She couldn't afford to let him—or anyone—see just how vulnerable this made her.
Hotch moved closer, compassion threading through his usually steady reserve. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and it was the last straw.
She began to cry, soft at first, a trickle of tears escaping despite her attempts to dam them. The more she fought it, the more intense her sobs became, wracking her frame and refusing to let go.
"All I've ever wanted is for my child to be safe." The words emerged between sobs, raw and desperate. "This can't be happening." She swiped angrily at the tears, hating them, hating her own fragility. The more she fought them, the more they came, until it was a deluge, the tide of emotions she'd tried so hard to keep at bay.
"We will find her." Hotch's voice, steady and unwavering, a beacon in her storm. He handed her a tissue, the prosaic gesture somehow grounding, a small tether to the everyday world that had been torn apart.
"Don't do that. Don't give me any room for hope right now." She shook her head fiercely, the tremor in her voice an echo of the turmoil within. She'd lost so much, surrendered so much. Robyn's safety had been her only concern, the single thing that made everything else bearable. Now even that was in jeopardy.
"Emily. You can't think like that." The insistence was gentle but firm, Hotch's refusal to indulge her fear a challenge, a lifeline she wasn't sure she could reach for.
"I always do these days," she replied, her voice a bitter murmur. "Because the worst that can happen usually does." And with that, the tears returned, the helpless, silent sobs of someone who'd lost everything but the fear that came with it.
Hotch seemed at a loss, his authoritative calm disarmed by the depths of her despair. He handed her another tissue, a small but human gesture in the face of such overwhelming uncertainty. Emily took it, more composed now, though the storm inside her showed no sign of abating. Her mind went over every word he'd said, replaying them in an endless loop that left no space for relief or reassurance. Only fear, growing and spreading until it felt as though it would consume everything she had fought so hard to protect.
The room felt heavy with words yet to be spoken, a tangible weight that pressed against Emily from all sides. She stared at Hotch, trying to reconcile the steadfast leader she knew with the questions he now posed. The sudden exposure of her past left her reeling, a diver with no sense of which way was up.
"I'll tell you what I can but I need your discretion when it comes to the rest of the team." she said, each syllable strained with the effort it took to keep from unraveling completely. She needed to cling to some sense of herself, something solid and unyielding, but everything she reached for seemed to disintegrate before she could grasp it. The tension in the room was suffocating, and she found herself desperate for air, desperate for distance, desperate for any version of events where her life hadn't spiraled out of her control.
Hotch's gaze remained calm and resolved, a stark contrast to the emotional tempest swirling inside her. He was a million miles away, anchored and assured, while she floundered in a sea of new realities. Emily tried to steady herself, tried to believe in the choices she had made and the necessity that had driven them.
"You can't think I abandoned my daughter," she said, though the very act of defending herself made it feel like an accusation. She bristled against it, knowing the strength of her resolve, the sacrifices she had willingly made. "A part of me always knew he'd come for me. I did what I had to do, to protect her."
There was silence, not an accusatory one, but a waiting one, as though Hotch were giving her the space to finish thoughts she could barely bring herself to articulate.
"With what happened this past year, I made the right decision. She would be dead if she'd been with me."
"Doyle was her father?" Hotch inquired gently, his eyes searching hers for confirmation.
"Does it matter now?" Emily shot back, her tone sharp and defensive, a clear admission of what Hotch had already pieced together.
Hotch acknowledged her response with a slight nod, understanding the unspoken truths, and decided to let the matter rest, moving the conversation forward.
"Is there anyone from your past who could be involved?" Hotch asked, his words cutting through her emotional armor with the clean efficiency of a surgeon.
Emily felt herself shrinking beneath his scrutiny, beneath the implications of her entire life being parsed and dissected. "No one," she said firmly, clinging to the certainty that had once been her lifeline. "Robyn's biological father was the only threat, and he's dead."
She tried to read Hotch's expression, tried to predict where the next blow would land. It was like playing chess against an opponent who could see all the way to the end of the game, while she could barely make sense of her first few moves.
"He's dead," she repeated, as if reiteration could shore up her rapidly eroding defenses. "The only other person who knows Robyn's history is Clyde, and he's not involved."
"That's how Morgan found her, you know."
Emily froze, the betrayal now complete, layered and multifaceted. Clyde. It was Clyde who had given Morgan the information. It was Clyde who had breached the boundaries she'd fought to keep in place. She felt raw and exposed, an open wound where her privacy used to be. Her voice cracked with the sharp edge of her anger. "So Clyde's been interfering in my life again. Overstepping in ways I told him not to. Great."
"You may not want to hear this, but Clyde might have more of a stake in Robyn's life than you realize."
Emily's thoughts turned molten, fueled by rage and a sense of violation she couldn't shake. She bit her lip, trying to tamp down the volcanic swell of her emotions. "Why would you say that?"
"I'm telling you what I know, Emily. Morgan found Robyn because of Clyde," Hotch explained, his voice steady yet laced with urgency.
Emily glanced at the clock on the wall, its hands slowly ticking away the seconds. "Is that all? Because I'd really like to get back to work now," she replied, a hint of impatience creeping into her tone.
Hotch shook his head, fully aware that his next words wouldn't be met warmly. His eyes held a steady resolve as he spoke, "I'm sorry, but you'll have to let us take it from here."
She stood up, needing to move, needing to release the pressure that was building inside her. But there was nowhere to go, nowhere that offered the escape she so desperately sought. "I'm need to help," she said, each word laced with desperation.
"I can handle this," she added although her words lacked conviction.
Hotch's voice cut through the thick tension in the room, his words landing like a punch to Emily's gut. "Emily, you're off this case," he stated firmly, his tone brooking no argument.
She rose from her seat abruptly, her body demanding action - an outlet for the mounting pressure threatening to consume her. Yet, she found herself trapped within the four walls of Hotch's office - a cage with no escape route. "Please don't do this." she protested, desperation seeping into every syllable.
"I think you need some time to let all of this sink in," Hotch said.
"Would you step aside if it were your son?" Emily asked, immediately regretting the accusation of hypocrisy.
He sighed but remained infuriatingly composed, every bit the leader, every bit the person who made the difficult decisions without blinking. "Emily, you can't be objective right now. And your connection to Robyn will be distracting for everyone."
"You mean you don't trust me."
"You know that's not true, but everyone cares about you. We're all invested in this, and it's best that you sit this one out."
She turned away, blinded by the tears of anger and helplessness she refused to shed. He was following procedure, she knew that. But it felt so much like abandonment, like the very thing she had spent a lifetime making sure she would never have to face. The betrayal compounded itself, echoing and re-echoing in her mind until she couldn't think straight, couldn't even begin to process the implications of what Hotch had said.
"It's against the Bureau's policy, Emily. You know that."
The rationality in his tone only made her feel more unstable, more desperate to prove she could hold herself together when everything was pulling her apart. She needed to breathe. She needed air. She needed to be somewhere, anywhere, but here.
Her steps were quick, frantic as she pushed through the door and out of the room that had closed in on her with its walls of memory and revelation. The hallway stretched out like an eternity, and she could feel the eyes of her team on her, their gazes like tiny pinpricks that pierced her carefully constructed armor.
JJ's look was filled with guilt, and Emily knew in that moment that her suspicions had been correct. Everyone knew. Derek Morgan was still icing his face, the evidence of his confrontation earlier that day, and he too seemed burdened with remorse.
Emily held her head high, willing herself not to break, not until she was far enough away that no one would see just how deeply fractured she'd become. Her pace quickened as she left the building, and with each step, she felt the distance between her and her team growing larger, more insurmountable, and more devastatingly real.
Emily emerged into the brisk dawn, the chill piercing her skin with a clarity that cut through the emotional fog enveloping her. She found herself approaching an officer nearby, a man whose face was as worn by worry as hers. The request for a cigarette slipped from her lips almost instinctively, like a long-forgotten habit resurfacing from the depths of muscle memory. It had been several months since she last indulged in this vice, back when she was concealed in the shadows of hiding.
Now here she stood, on the concrete pavement with another's cigarette between her fingers, its ember glowing ominously like the ignored red flags of her past. Each puff provided fleeting solace, a minor rebellion against the vulnerability she loathed to display.
When she heard the footsteps behind her, Emily didn't have to turn to know it was JJ. She took another draw, inhaling the smoke like it was resolve, and flicked the ash with a determination she wished she actually felt.
"I thought you quit," JJ said, her voice tentative, each word an unsure footfall in a minefield of emotion.
Emily turned to face her, the cigarette held loosely between fingers that belied her strain. "Yeah, well—" she began, but her voice tapered off, unable to commit to an ending that wouldn't become an admission of how unraveled she was.
JJ stepped closer, her face a study in guilt and concern. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how to tell you."
Emily tilted her head, a wry smile playing on her lips, though there was no humor in it.
"I wanted you to know, but Derek—"
"JJ, I don't want to hear it right now," Emily interrupted, her tone sharper than she intended. She turned away, as much from JJ as from the conflict tearing at her. The horizon was beginning to lighten, a new day starting, though it brought none of the hope or clarity that should have come with it. "I know you can't stand having anyone upset with you, but I'm not in a place where I can forgive anyone right now."
JJ's eyes softened, her shoulders dropping as if under a weight she couldn't put down. "I understand. But I still don't know why you never told me."
Emily swished the cigarette against a metal post, depositing the remains into a makeshift ashtray. Her mind raced, as did her heart. To her, this was a past she had buried long ago, a past she thought she could escape by never speaking of it. "I thought about it once, but to talk about my baby... I would have opened a chapter in my life that I've fought to keep closed. I never told anyone after she was born."
"Well, I'm all ears when you're ready," JJ said, offering a small smile meant to reassure but only reminding Emily of how uncertain everything was.
They lapse into silence for a moment, the air thick with unspoken thoughts, before JJ gently pulls a picture from her pocket. She handed it to Emily with a soft smile. "I thought you might want this."
Emily accepted the photograph, her fingers hesitating as they brushed against its glossy surface. It was a school photo of Robyn, the colors vibrant and fresh, suggesting it was taken recently.
"It's from September," JJ explained, her voice warm with understanding. "I got it from Marshall. I told him we needed more recent photos of the children, but I already made a copy, so you can keep that."
Emily stared intently at the photograph as if seeing Robyn for the first time, her eyes tracing the familiar features. The resemblance was unmistakable now—the same deep, expressive eyes and the same wide, beaming smile, even if it was charmingly incomplete with a few missing teeth. Her heart ached with both joy and sorrow, unsure of how to process this flood of feelings.
JJ seemed to gather herself, a renewed determination sparking in her eyes. "Do you want a ride to the hotel? I can stay for a bit, keep you company."
"No, I'm fine. I just want to be alone."
"You're not fine, and that's okay. Is there anything I can do?"
Emily looked at JJ, her expression pleading for understanding. "Go back inside and focus on finding my baby because I can't… if she dies then I missed the last seven years for nothing." Her voice broke, the dam of emotion too fragile to hold, tears threatening to follow.
JJ placed a tentative hand on Emily's shoulder, pulling her into an embrace that Emily didn't have the heart to reject. "Okay, okay. We'll find her," JJ said. "It's going to be okay." She released Emily, stepping back with a final promise. "I'll call you as soon as I have an update."
Emily nodded, a small gesture that belied the turmoil inside. "Thanks."
JJ walked back to the police station, her figure gradually absorbed by the shadows, leaving Emily alone on the sidewalk. She watched until JJ disappeared entirely from view, the distance between them feeling more symbolic than literal. Emily took a deep breath, exhaling slowly into the cold morning air, each plume of breath dissipating like the assurances she had once clung to. She stood there, the horizon painted in colors she couldn't feel, the rawness inside her echoed by the vastness of the sky, her determination the only constant in a world that seemed as unfathomable and unpredictable as the wind.
Thank you for reading!