Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Emily sits back in her chair, mind already going through ideas and theories as Hotch wraps up the debrief on the latest case. This one was in DC, so they didn’t need to worry about flights, they were headed out as soon as they grabbed their stuff. She gathers the files in front of her as everyone stood, preparing to grab their bags and head out to the cars, but something outside of the conference room window stops her in her tracks. 

“Hey,” She says as she moves towards the window. The others follow her gaze as a woman they don’t recognize walks into the bullpen. It’s not someone she knows, or at least not somebody she remembers, but her face is oddly familiar. “Who is that?” 

JJ, Reid, and Garcia join her by the window, all sharing similar looks of confusion but after only one glance Morgan is already headed to the door, cursing under his breath. Despite Hotch’s insistence that they had a case and needed to focus, they all stand there watching as Morgan storms down the stairs heading straight for the visitor. 

When he gets closer it suddenly clicks for Emily, why the woman looks so familiar. She looks just like Morgan. Not an exact copy of his face, her features softer, her eyes more striking, and her hair falling in tight curls around her shoulders, but the similarity is there nonetheless. 

She thought she had met all of his family already. When Morgan had been arrested she had been in his house, but still, she never knew he had a third, younger sister. There were no stories of her, no photos, nothing. But she’s here now, and based on the way Morgan is reacting to her, it doesn’t take a profiler to figure out who she is to him. 

She feels bad watching the two interact, the way Morgan grabs her arm and drags her into his office, the irritation clear in his movements. But this is the BAU. Nobody has secrets here. Though, based on the reaction of everyone in the conference room, this seemed to be Morgan’s biggest one. 

- - - - - - 

“What the hell (y/n),” Derek says as he drags you into his office. His grip is tight, but not painful. He’s not angry, not really, not that anybody outside of you would know that. You’ve been in this situation a few times with him before. “What are you doing here?” 

“Oh my gosh, my baby sister,” you say dramatically as you pull your arm out of his grip. “I haven’t seen you since Christmas. How are you? How’s school? How’s mom? Oh, it’s all great? That’s amazing!”

Derek wasn’t amused, he never was one to appreciate your sarcasm. He shoots you a look as he crosses his arms over his chest. 

“I don’t have time for your games right now, (y/n). Why aren’t you at school?”

“I can’t just come for a visit?” you ask with a nonchalant shrug, as you lean back on his desk. You move to pick up a file you find there but he quickly snatches it out of your hands moving to tuck it away on the bookshelf.

“Not unannounced,” Derek says, his jaw clenched. “And definitely not in the middle of the semester. What’s really going on?” 

“There’s just…a lot happening and I needed a break.” You hesitated for a moment, not long, only a half second really but Derek caught it. He always knows when you're hiding something. “When I told Mom she said I could come spend a few days with you. I assumed she talked to you about it.”

“No,” he says with a shake of his head, his face softening for a moment. “No, she didn’t talk to me. But what about your work? Your classes?” 

“It’s only a few days,” you try to reassure him “I have time off from work and I can do my classes online.” 

Derek runs a hand over his face, his irritation growing as you say all of this like it’s nothing. 

“Look,” he says with a soft huff. “You can’t just show up here and expect me to be able to let you stay. We are about to leave for a case right now.” 

“Give me your house key,” you say holding out your hand. “I can go ahead and head over and just be there when you get back.”

“Not a chance,” he scoffs. He grabs your arm again and pulls you over to the couch in the corner of his office. “The case isn’t far so it shouldn’t take long. Stay here. I’m serious (Y/N). Stay in my office, don’t touch anything, don’t look at anything, don’t go anywhere. Got it?” 

“Yes, sir,” you say as you plop down on the couch. He shoots you another glance as if not entirely convinced that you’ll listen. 

“We’ll figure this all out later.” With that he leaves, muttering under his breath in the way he does when he’s frustrated. 

You can’t help the soft smile that grows on your face as you look around his office. You stand up moving around the small space, taking note of the few pictures and decorations he has. Derek’s pretty boring but, you can’t lie it’s nice to be here. Nice to see the space he calls a second home, especially since you don’t get to see him that often. 

Staying put doesn’t last long, there are only so many things you can observe, so many apps you can scroll through. Besides there’s no way he actually expected you to stay put. He knows you too well. 

You peek through the glass window on the door, making sure you don't see him around before you turn the handle and slip out. You’re hit instantly with the buzzing of the bullpen, so many agents talking and moving around the space that you’re pretty certain you can get around unnoticed for at least a little while. 

You keep walking down the hallway not finding anything of any interest. Just blank walls and locked doors. That is until you see…glitter? You make your way through the open door and are hit with an explosion of pink, glitter, toys, and lights. You see underneath everything there are several computer monitors on the desk and walls. and it doesn’t take long for you to realize whose office you’re in. You let out a soft laugh as you move over, picking up and observing one of the trinkets on the desk.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” you hear a voice say from the doorway. You spin quickly before putting the trinket back where you found it and giving her an innocent smile. 

“Oh. My. God!” She suddenly says as she moves over to you. “You’re Morgan’s super secret  baby sister, aren’t you?!”

“How did you…” 

“Oh, you'll learn very quickly that any and everything that there is to know, I know it,” She says before pulling you into a hug. “Besides, hello!?! Who else could you be with that perfect bone structure?” 

“I’m almost certain that you already know me because come on, if Morgan has talked about anybody on this team it’s me,” she continues. “But just in case I’m Penelope or Garcia, I answer to both. And you’ve already found my lair.” She gestures to the room around you and you nod, taking another look around at everything with a smile. You can already tell why Derek likes her so much. 

“What’s going on in here?” Another voice says from the door. It’s another blonde woman, slim, stylish, and curious. Must be JJ. 

“Jayge,” Garcia says confirming your suspicions as she walks over throwing her arm around the other blonde. “Meet (y/n), the BAU’s best kept secret. Also known as, Morgan's little sister.” 

You give her a small wave as her eyebrows raise in interest. 

“Ok, I need to know everything.” 

It turns out, not staying put was a good choice. Hanging with JJ and Garcia is much more entertaining than scrolling on your phone in Derek’s office. Garcia insists on taking you on a tour, pointing out everything like an overly excited museum guide, her arm linked with yours.

“This is the magical coffee machine that fuels our genius,” Garcia says as she gestures dramatically. 

“And our dread,” JJ chimes in as she follows closely behind you. “It’s literally always broken.” 

“And over here,” Garcia says pulling you further into the bullpen. “Is the controlled chaos that is the workspace of our beloved profilers. Affectionately known as the bullpen.” 

“This is yours?” you ask turning to JJ as you see a simply decorated desk with just a few personal pictures. 

“How’d you guess?” she says with a light laugh as she picks up the framed photo of her and her family. “This is my husband Will and our son Henry. Has Morgan ever told you about any of us?”

“A little here or there, but not really.” 

“Oh well, my love, it’s time for you to get an up close and personal introduction to everyone,” Garcia says moving to another desk. “This hot mess belongs to our resident genius.”

“Dr. Reid,” you chime in with a nod. “Yeah, Morgan calls him boy genius. Says he’s not much older than me but has like a trillion degrees.” 

“Mhm,” Garcia says before pulling you to another desk. “And this desk belongs to…” 

“Me,” another voice says. You look towards the voice to find a tall, dark-haired, strikingly gorgeous woman. Her lips are turned up into a smirk as she studies you with her eyes. “I’m Emily,” she says as she reaches a hand out to you to shake. 

“(Y/N),” you say back taking her hand in yours for a firm handshake. Your hand lingers in hers for a moment, as you meet her brown eyes. 

“And who are you, (Y/N)?” Emily asks, your name rolling off her tongue smooth and thick like honey. 

“Morgan’s super secret little sister,” Garcia says, and Emily’s smirk turns into a wide smile. 

“The hell is going on here?” Derek says as he walks up behind Emily and you have to hold back an eye roll as you drop Emily’s hand. 

“I was taking a tour,” you say. 

“A tour?” Derek asks, looking over to Garcia and JJ, but the two of them turn around looking around pretending to be in another conversation. Derek huffs and turns back to you. “I told you to stay put.” 

“And I got bored,” you say with a shrug, and Emily lets out a small laugh, earning her a glare from Derek.

“Not helping,” he says. 

“Can I just say," Emily chimes in. "This is quite the surprise." 

“Good surprise or a bad surprise?” you ask, your attention fully turning to her, ignoring your brother standing in front of you. You see a spark of amusement in Emily’s eyes. 

“Definitely a good surprise,” she says. 

“You, knock it off,” Derek says pointing a finger at Emily before turning back to you. “And you, back to my office. Now.” 

“Oh come on,” Garcia says rejoining the conversation. “She’s in good hands. You can’t expect her to stay in your office all day. She can at least chill with me and JJ while you guys work on the case.” 

It takes him a moment, looking around at the women around him clearly seeing that he is outnumbered. Even if he wasn’t there’s no way he believes you’re actually going to listen to him this time. Eventually, he gives up. 

“Fine, but don’t leave Garcia’s sight.” You hold your hand to your forehead in a salute. 

“Got it, captain.” He just rolls his eyes before grabbing his bag and heading towards the elevators. Emily follows behind him but not before shooting another look towards you. 

“See you later, (y/n),” she says as she slips past you, her voice low. 

“Looking forward to it,” you shoot back, your eyes following her as she walks away. 

“Ok, we are definitely discussing that,” Garcia says, excitement in her eyes as she loops her arm through yours again pulling you back to her office. 

- - - - - - 

“So,” Emily says to Morgan as the two of them step into the elevator heading down to the SUVs. “How old is your sister?” 

“She’s off-limits, Prentiss,” Morgan says simply, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the elevator walls. Emily smirks. 

“Yeah, but that didn’t answer my question though.” The elevator dings and Morgan walks out, the moment the doors open.

“Off limits,” he repeats as he walks away. Emily just laughs as she follows behind him

Chapter Text

By the time the team gets back, you’re back in Derek’s office. Garcia had kicked you out when the team needed her, claiming that though she already loved you, her genius needed space to breathe. You didn’t mind leaving, especially not after finding a book on Reid’s desk that you had been meaning to check out.

You’re lounging on the couch, head propped up on your bookbag, feet kicked up on the other cushion when you hear a knock. Before you can answer the door cracks open and you see a familiar face.

“Emily,” you say, a smile instantly finding its way onto your face as you sit up, tossing the book to the side without hesitation. She returns the smile before stepping fully into the office.

“I’m behaving, staying put like I promised,” you assure her.

“Don’t worry,” she says with a light laugh as she moves over to sit on the edge of Derek’s desk. “Anything you do that gets under Morgan’s skin, I’m a fan of.”

“Good to know I have an ally,” you say, shifting on the couch.

“You make it a habit to steal other people's stuff?” She asks as she tilts her head, her eyes flicking to the now discarded book. You furrow your brows, following her gaze before you let out a soft chuckle.

“I saw it on Dr. Reid’s desk,” you say reaching over and picking the book back up. “My professor recommended it a while ago and I couldn’t miss the opportunity.”

She reaches her hand out and you hand her the book, your fingers grazing against hers for a split second. She flips the book over with a hum as she reads the back.

“I’ve seen this on his desk, but I never really looked at it. You’re into physics?”

“I’m into knowing stuff that makes me sound smarter in conversations.”

“Trying to impress us?” she asks.

“Trying to establish myself as the best Morgan sibling.”

“Tough job considering you’re the only Morgan sibling we didn’t know existed.”

“I like my odds,” you say with a shrug.

“Me too,” she says as she studies you for a moment. You feel more exposed than you usually do. You can’t tell if it’s because Emily is a profiler or if it’s because Emily is really hot. “I can’t speak for the rest of the team but I already like you more than Morgan,” she continues.

“You wanna know something,” you ask with a smirk. Emily nods, leaning in closer to you propping her elbows on her knees. “I like you more than Morgan too.”

At this Emily laughs, and you can’t help but feel a flutter in your chest, joining in the laugh with her. The office feels more comfortable than it has all day and as your laughter dies down, there's a pause. A moment that lasts a second too long as you and Emily look at each other.

“So what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” you say after a moment, breaking the silence.

“Just wanted to check in.” You narrow your eyes.

“Derek sent you?” You ask but she shakes her head.

“Actually, I’m here all on my own.”

“Oh, I get it,” you say teasingly. “You just wanted to check out the mysterious little sister?”

“What? No,” she says, but you don’t miss the light blush that starts to creep up her neck. You laugh at her immediate denial and immediate reaction to the assumption.

“Don’t worry,” you say. “I’ve been the most popular exhibit in the zoo all day. Apparently, there’s a lot of people in this office that know the great Derek Morgan.”

“Well, if you ever get tired of being stared at, you know where my desk is. You can stop by.” It’s a simple suggestion but your breath hitches. Maybe you’re reading too much into it but there’s something about Emily’s eyes that tell you the invite may have been a little more than friendly.

“I might take you up on that,” you say, and Emily’s eyes flash with something you can’t quite decipher. Years of knowing a profiler you still didn’t have the same skills as one.

You go to continue the conversation but a shadow passing the window catches your attention. You turn your head to see Derek walking towards the office.

“Looks like my ride is here,” you murmur nodding to the door. Emily follows your gaze and you don’t miss the small sigh that leaves her.

“Out,” Derek says flatly when he walks in, eyes flicking to Emily who is still perched comfortably on his desk. She holds her hands up in surrender as she stands.

“Alright, a girl can tell when she’s not wanted.” She starts to walk towards the door but not before looking back at you with a quick wink. “See you around.”

“Yeah,” you say, your voice softer than you intended. “See ya.”

She lingers at the door for just a moment before slipping out of the office leaving you alone with Derek. And as you look at him you can tell whatever levity Emily had brought into the room she is taking with her.

“I called Mom,” Derek says as he closes the door behind Emily. You pause for a moment, knowing that ultimately he was going to, but still not having prepared yourself for the conversation you know you are about to have.

“What did she say?”

“She didn’t even know that you had left school,” he says, and the ways his eyes are boring into you make you want to crawl out of your skin. You never enjoyed disappointing anybody but disappointing Derek was a whole different story.

“What did you tell her?” you ask him, your gaze dropping to the ground, as your hand tightens around the strap of your bookbag.

“Nothing,” he says, moving his head, trying to catch your eye again. “But I need answers. Right now.” You hesitate, your mouth suddenly going dry and emotion building up in your throat as you’re reminded of everything you’ve tried to push down since you got onto the plane to come here.

“I…don’t think I can explain it to you,” you finally find your voice.

“Try,” he says, the word shar as it comes out of his mouth. “You can’t just drop in here and interrupt my life without at least giving me an explanation.”

“Derek…” you try to plead but he’s not having it.

“No, (Y/N), no!” he says, more serious than you’ve seen him in a while. “I’m not doing this with you. Tell me why you’re here, right now, or I’m sending you on the first flight back to Connecticut.”

“Fine,” you mumble, knowing there’s no way out of this. You take your bookbag off of your shoulders and bend down as you start to go through it. You can feel Derek’s eyes watching your moves. You thought this would be easy but your fingers tremble as you reach inside, grabbing a small, slightly work journal. You stand again and pass it to Derek.

He frowns as he takes it in his hands, turning it over his fingers trailing across the binding, and the edges of the pages.

“What is this?” he asks looking at you.

“Just open it.”

Cautiously, he does as you say, flipping the book open. He starts near the middle, and his body stiffens as he sees screenshots of text messages. Flipping through he sees much of the same, some going back a few months. The book almost looks like a condensed version of their evidence board the entire thing is filled with screenshots of text, transcripts of phone calls, letters pictures. It was chaos, a hot mess. A detailed collection of months' worth of evidence.

“(Y/N)...” Derek says eyes still glued to the journal. He flips all the way to the beginning to the first page, and there written in your scrawled handwriting is the conclusion he had already come to himself.

STALKER

“I don’t know how long he’s been watching me,” you say, seeing as his face becomes more and more horrified. “But everything is in there, every time he contacted me, every time he sent or left something for me. All of it.” Your voice sounds calm compared to the way your hands are shaking.

The silence settles like a thick uncomfortable fog. He is still staring at the book, going through every single page line by line picture by picture methodically taking it all in. The only sound left in the room is the swoosh of the pages and both of your breathing. Your heartbeat is pumping in your ears as you wait for his reaction, for him to say anything, do anything.

“Can you say something?” you finally ask, your voice barely above a whisper. He lifts his gaze to you, his grip tightening around the binding of the book. “The silence is freaking me out.”

He inhales slowly, shutting the book with a snap that almost makes you jump. He doesn’t hand it back instead he turns and slides it into the front pocket of his own back. He turns back to you, a certain level of finality obvious in his features.

“In the morning,” he says, looking into your eyes. “I’m taking you to talk to Hotch.”

“What? Derek no,” you say quickly your heart jumping into your throat. You reach out, trying to grasp his bag and get your journal back but he steps back holding out a hand to stop you. “He specifically said not to tell the police,” you continue, still fighting against him.

“We’re not the police.”

“It’s the same damn thing and you know it!” you say your voice rising, the anger and fear that you’ve felt for the last few months mixing and coming out at once.

“Then why the hell are you here?” Derek shoots back, his frustration creeping out too as he also raises his voice.

“Because you're my fucking brother!" you snap before you can stop yourself. "Maybe because you seem to be the only person in the family who gives a shit about me. Maybe because… “ your voice wavers, as you start to feel tears burning at the back of your eyes. “Maybe because you make me feel safe.”

Derek’s expression softens instantly. The tension drains from his face and shoulders and he swallows back whatever response was prepared at the tip of his tongue. You both stand there like that for a moment, silently watching the other, sizing each other up before he gives in. He steps forward pulling you into his arms, cradling your head as he holds you tightly against his chest. That’s why you break.

You let out a shuddering breath as you still try to bite back the tears but a few fall. You can’t stop yourself from clinging to the front of his shirt. He feels the few silent tears through his shirt and he pulls you tighter to him.

“I’m scared,” you finally admit. “I’m scared and I didn’t know where else to go.”

“I’m scared too,” Derek says, as he lets out a sharp exhale and rests his chin on the top of your head. “Let me help you (Y/N). I can protect you but I need my team.”

You sniff, burying your face deeper into Derek’s shirt relishing in the comfort of your older brother. You both stay like that for a moment, neither of you moving or talking before you finally relent.

“Ok,” you say with a soft nod.

“Okay.”

Chapter Text

The drive back to Derek’s apartment is quiet. Not unbearably so, but quiet nonetheless. The air is thick with all of the things you both should say. But neither of you have the words to say them. You don’t miss how he keeps glancing over at you, the worry practically radiating off of him. But you keep your focus out the window, watching as the streetlights blur past.

Maybe it’s because of the way Garcia had you running around the Bureau, or maybe you’re still a bit tired from your early flight but the day suddenly feels heavy. Like just keeping your eyes open is demanding more energy than you even have.

Derek is tapping a steady beat on his thigh as he hums some song in his head. It’s comforting, bringing back a familiarity you didn’t realize that you missed. Your eyes close and you take a deep breath as your head presses against the cool glass.

“You look tired,” Derek finally says, breaking the silence. “When’s the last time you got a full night's sleep?”

“Can’t,” you say simply, not bothering to open your eyes or look over at him. But you can tell that he’s nodding. He doesn’t ask any more questions, doesn’t need for you to elaborate. He wouldn’t be able to sleep either if there was somebody watching his every move. The car falls back into silence as he turns into the parking lot.

As soon as he unlocks the door you’re met with the tip tap of paws on hardwood. You step through the door to see Clooney meandering towards you, tail wagging quickly despite his slow pace.

“Clooney,” you say as you crouch down, the pup pressing his nose into your palm as you move to scratch behind his ears. “You’re getting old, buddy.” Derek scoffs as he throws his keys onto the counter and pulls his jacket off.

“If he’s getting old, what does that make me?”

“Ancient.”

“Harsh kid,” he grumbles, but there’s a small laugh behind it. He kicks off his shoes, stretching his arms above his head before his hand comes to rest on his stomach.

“You hungry?” he asks you as you finally stand up, watching as Clooney moves back into the other room.

“Not really.”

“You need to eat,” he says sounding more like a father than a big brother. Well…in some ways he was.

“You actually have food in your fridge?” you ask as he starts to walk into the kitchen. He rolls his eyes and throws a dishtowel at you. You laugh as you catch it before it can hit your face.

“I have a phone, and the menu to the pizza joint down the street.”

“I can do pizza,” you say throwing the towel back to him. He however doesn’t catch it and you have to hold back a snort as it hits him in the ear.

“Watch it, kid,” he warns and you hold your hands up in surrender, moving to the living room as he calls in the pizza.

You sink onto the couch, which surprisingly isn’t as comfortable as the one he has in his office. You don’t mind though, you lean your head against the back and close your eyes as you take a deep breath. Cedar wood and cinnamon. A strange combination that most wouldn’t attribute to the agent but that you have grown fond of over the years. You take the opportunity to let your mind wander over the events of the day.

The rude TSA agent who made you take your laptop out then put it back in, then yelled at you for not having your electronics out. Garcia, who was nothing but sunshine personified. Emily, whose dark brown eyes bore into your soul in a way that made you want to…

Your thoughts are interrupted as you feel the weight of Clooney plopping down in your lap. Derek must have given up on trying to keep him off of the sofa. He presses his nose into your neck, begging for attention.

“You big baby,” you mumble with affection as you pet him. Content, he lays his head down in your lap with a sigh. The warmth of his body on yours does nothing to help you stay awake. Your eyes close again, only opening a moment later when you feel Derek’s familiar gaze.

You peek an eye open to see him standing just inside the living room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. There’s a soft smirk on his face and a light lift of one of his eyebrows.

“What?” you question suspiciously.

“Nothing,” he says pushing himself off of the wall and moving over to sit next to you, opposite of Clooney.

“You’re such a liar. I noticed it today, you guys all have that same look.”

“What look?” he asks feigning innocence.

“That look,” you say as you gesture to the general area of his face. “Like you know something about myself that I haven’t even figured out yet.” He chuckles leaning back against the chair.

“It comes with the job.”

“It’s unsettling…stop it.” He laughs again before shifting on the couch throwing an arm over your shoulder. The weight of his arm plus the weight of Clooney is slowly but surely easing the tension in your muscles and you don’t think twice before leaning into him. He runs a hand gently across your shoulder as he looks down at you.

“I missed you, kid,” he says, his voice softer than usual.

“Yeah,” you say with a sigh. You missed him so much, you’ve needed him so much, but there’s no way you are going to tell him that. “I guess I kind of missed you too.”

Derek grins, he knows what you really want to say. He takes the opportunity though and ruffles your hair, completely messing it up.

“Ugh Derek!” you groan, sitting up. Clooney, shifts surprised at the sudden movement. “I take it back. I didn’t miss you at all.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he says as he reaches over trying to help you fix your curls. “I couldn’t resist.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“You love me,” he says. you roll your eyes leaning down and whispering in Clooney’s ear.

“How do you put up with this guy?”

Clooney lets out a deep sigh as he flops his head back into your lap. Derek just laughs again, pulling you back into his side.

- - - - - -

The office is already humming when you and Derek step off of the elevator. The desks full, phones ringing, papers being shuffled through all before you would typically even be out of bed. You grip your coffee a little tighter, thankful for the stop Derek had let you make even though it put him getting to the office later than he wanted.

He was going to talk to Hotch. He wanted you to come with him, was convinced that he would be more likely to listen if it came straight from the victim. He saw quickly that that wasn’t going to work, you punched him as soon as that word left his mouth. You were a lot of things but a victim wasn’t one. And you didn’t think you could stand in there and listen to him talk about you like you were.

You find yourself back in his office, sitting on the couch, staring at the wall in silence. Hotch’s office is on the other side of the room but if you’re quiet enough, maybe you can almost hear what they are saying.

You don’t realize how deep in your head you are until a familiar voice pulls you out.

“Well, if it isn’t the better Morgan sibling,” Emily says as she leans against the doorframe. There’s an easy smile on her face as she looks at you. “You came back?”

“Yeah,” you say sitting up a bit straighter. “Couldn’t get enough of this place I guess.”

“Hey, if you stick around long enough maybe we’ll give you a job,” she says moving closer, standing right at the edge of the couch now.

“I appreciate the offer,” you say with a huff. “But I think I’ll leave all of this to the people who are better equipped to handle it.”

It comes out softer than you mean it, a small sigh in your voice as the whole reason you’re back flashes in your mind again. Of course, Emily notices, and if she weren’t a profiler she might have let it slide. But she is, and she feels an intense pull to try and figure you out.

She moves from the edge of the couch, now sitting down next to you, and you can’t help the light shiver that runs down your spine as her leg brushes yours. You look over and notice her eyes, softer than you remember, and filled with a curiosity that startles you.

You know she knows. You’re not sure what, but she knows something, something about you that you haven’t told her and it almost makes you squirm. But for some reason, with Emily, you don’t mind as much.

“Not you too,” you say softly and she blinks, the look in her eyes fading away.

“What?” she questions, raising an eyebrow.

“That look,” you say. “That signature profile look. Derek’s had it ever since I got here.”

“I’m not profiling you,” Emily insists with a light shake of her head.

“Then what are you doing?” You ask, the words soft but tense. Emily’s gaze shifts to something different, something that looks a little more like pity, and suddenly it doesn’t feel all that good anymore. You look down at the coffee cup in your hands as the silence settles.

“You wanna do something?”

You look back up at Emily’s question and see a soft smile. You frown.

“What?”

“Get out of here,” Emily says standing up. “Personally I need to clear my head. And if that’s all you had this morning you probably need breakfast.”

You look down at the coffee cup one more time before setting it down on the table and standing up after Emily.

“Are you allowed to do that?” you question, giving her a skeptical look.

“Probably not,” she says with a light laugh. “But I have a feeling whatever is going on in Hotch’s office is something you want to get away from, and as Morgan’s partner it’s my responsibility to take care of his little sister.”

“Take care of me?” you ask, with a small smirk. Emily rolls her eyes, but

“Do you want breakfast or not?” Emily asks crossing her arms over her chest. “My treat, but only if you say yes right now.”

“Fine,” you say, and a wide smile grows on her face. You shake your head with a light laugh.

“Let’s go then.”

- - - - - -

Morgan steps into Hotch’s office and closes the door behind him, not bothering to ask permission. Hotch looks up briefly, noting the tension in Morgan's body language, the notebook he has clutched in his hand like he’s trying to kill it.

“What’s going on?” Hotch asks, setting his pen down.

“I need your help, it’s about my sister.”

This gets Hotch’s attention, and he straightens, eyes sharpening as he waits for Morgan to continue. Morgan exhales walking over to Hotch’s desk and sitting the journal in front of him opening it up to the first page.

“She’s got a stalker Hotch. Someone has been following her, leaving her notes. She’s gotten phone calls and text messages from several blocked numbers.” Hotch’s expression hardens as he looks through the journal.

“How long has this been going on?”

“Seems like a while,” Morgan says. “That’s why she’s here, Hotch she’s terrified. She left school, left her life, came halfway across the country just to get away from this guy.”

“Has she filed a report with the police?” Hotch asks, looking back up at Morgan, but he shakes his head. “What about since she’s been here? Any new threats?”

Morgan shakes his head again, getting frustrated because he already knows where Hotch is going with these questions.

“Hotch you know that doesn’t mean anything. That doesn’t mean that any of this is over. He’s been watching her for this long, who is to say he won’t follow her here?”

“Morgan..” Hotch starts to say, his expression unreadable, but Morgan is so worked up he barely even hears him.

“You know how these guys are Hotch you’ve seen it. We have seen it. They escalate at the drop of the hat, the slightest thing sets them off. We need to look into this!”

“I understand why you’re worried,” Hotch says, the calm of his voice just doing more to agitate Morgan. “But we are being watched by Strauss and the Brass. With no clear immediate threat, and no police report filed, we cannot allocate federal resources for a personal matter.”

“You’re telling me I’m supposed to sit back and wait until my sister is lying in a hospital bed before we’re allowed to do anything?” Morgan asks his fist clenched. “You’re saying that I have to go home tonight, and tell her that the man who has been making her life a living hell can’t be found and persecuted until he threatens her? That’s bullshit and you know it!”

“I’m sorry,” Hotch says, the note of finality in his voice, making it clear to Morgan that he has been dismissed. Morgan clenches his jaw as he snatches the journal off Hotch’s desk. He storms out of the room not bothering to care about the fact that the entire bullpen is watching.

If Hotch and the Bureau weren’t going to do anything he sure as hell would. With or without help.

Chapter Text

You can’t help but glance toward Hotch’s office as you and Emily head for the elevators. You don’t have the best view but you can tell that Morgan is upset. It must not be going well. A small shiver runs through your body as you think about it, and you almost start to feel sick. But then Emily places a gentle hand on your back as you step into the elevators and it pulls you back. Momentarily at least.

You keep drifting, thinking about whoever this man is, thinking about the fear of being watched thinking about the fact that he could be here, right now. You have a hard time figuring out which possibility is worse, that he has followed you here or that he’s laying in wait until you get back.

You feel a nudge in your side that makes you stumble a bit before Emily reaches out, grabbing your elbow to steady you.

“You were more distracted than I thought, I was just trying to get your attention,” she says, her fingers lingering on your skin for a moment. “Pastries or bagels?”

“What?” you asks, the feeling of Emily’s fingers still lingering on your skin.

“I know two places that we can go, both about 10 minutes out. One has bagels, the other has pastries. Both have coffee, I know you left yours in the office.”

“Pastries,” you say with a soft smile as you narrow your eyes at her. “...but a part of me feels like you already knew that.” Emily laughs, shaking her head.

“I think you’re overestimating how profiling works.”

“So you’re saying you can’t just look at someone and tell everything about them? Their darkest secrets? Childhood traumas?”

“Not even close,” Emily says with another laugh as she steps around to the drivers side of the car. She rest her arms on it, looking at you over the hood with a smirk. “We’re not mind readers. We take information that we are given match that with patterns that we observe and then we are able to make our conclusions.”

She unlocks the door with a click and slides into the car. You roll your eyes and get into the passenger seat.

“And as tempting as it is to try to profile you,” she continues cranking up the car. “Things mean a little more when you tell me them yourself.”

“Ok, well I like pastries over bagels,” you say turning to her after to buckle up. “You learned that one yourself.”

“Noted,” Emily says meeting your eye with another smirk before pulling out of the parking spot and onto the road.

“You want control of the radio?” she asks.

“I don’t really know any of the stations down here,” you murmur. Emily gestures towards the tuning dial and you lean over making your way through the stations. There’s static, talk show, static, static, country music, and then a heavy strike of bass blares through the car.

“What is this? Death Rock?” you asks, your nose turned up as the rough voice of the lead singer joins the heavy background music.

“Hey,” Emily defensively. “What’s with that tone?”

“Oh,Emily…don’t tell me you listen to this stuff.”

“In my younger years,” she says with a nod, seemingly proud of the fact. “I had a bit of a goth phase, mainly just to terrorize my mother, but the music is good.”

“In your younger years? Right,” you say, a small smile growing on your face as you hear the fondness with which Emily talks about what is apparently such a small part of her life. “So if I look at your playlist on your phone right now, I won’t find any music like this?” She smiles too, glancing over to you.

“No comment.”

“Knew it,” you say, sitting back letting it stay on the station. Emily just shakes her head, amused, her focus back on the road. For the rest of the car ride you catch a few glimpses of her bobbing her head along to the music.

The morning is still cool as you step out of the car. Emily walks ahead, pulling the door open for you and you’re immediately hit with the warmth of of the cafe, the smell of cinnamon and espresso. You fall in step next to each other as you get into line.

“There’s the menu, it changes every day.” Emily leans in slightly, pointing towards a chalkboard on the wall. Your eyes follow her direction but it takes you a moment to focus on the words. Too distracted by Emily’s closeness, the heat of her body next to yours, the faint smell of her perfume. “I get the chocolate croissant every time they have them.” Emily continues.

“A little basic, no?” you tease, trying to brush off the flutter in your stomach.

“What can I say,” she says with a shrug. “I like chocolate.”

“Fair enough.” you nod. “I think I’ll go with the danish.”

When you get up to the register, Emily places the order, adding on a muffin at the last second. You grab the pastries, moving to find a seat while Emily waits for the coffee. As you sit everything down and lean back in the chair you look over, watching as Emily is engrossed in conversation, phone pressed to her ear.

Derek, Hotch, the team, the stalker, so many things had been on your mind, and yet the only thing that feels important right now is Emily. This last half an hour with her has been easy…too easy. Dangerously, easy.

God, Derek is gonna flip.

Emily walks over, carrying your coffees and slides into the chair across from you.

“You know you’re trouble,” Emily says,

“Trouble?” you question, as you pick up the danish. “I haven’t even done anything.” Emily holds up her phone waving it teasingly.

“Garcia’s looking for me and apparently, Morgan is looking for you.” Mid bite your stomach twist and your blood turns to ice.

“Why?” you ask too quickly, before you even get a chance to fully swallow your bite. “Why is he looking for me? Did she say anything?” Emily pauses.

“No,” she says with a shake of her head. She studies you for a second. “Hey, is something going on? Something about this meeting Morgan has with Hotch this morning.”

You don’t feel hungry anymore. The danish in your mouth suddenly taste like ash. It had been so nice not having to think about it. Being able to just exist with Emily even if only for a short period of time. You tug at your sleeves, picking nervously at the strings you find there. Emily notices.

She leans forward, forearms placed on the table, fingers twitching like she’s about to reach for your hands. But she doesn’t. Instead she lets her hand rest near yours on the table, close but not touching, her fingers gently tapping.

“I can ask,” Emily suggests after a moment, voice soft. “See if they need us to head back or if we can take our time. Ok?”

You stop fidgetting, instead looking up to meet her eye and she gives you a reassuring smile before sitting back again and sending a quick text to Garcia. You let out a breath. She didn’t push, didn’t pry any information out of you, didn’t even give you the look as if she were trying to analyze you.

Things mean a little more…

“We’re good,” Emily says, putting her phone away and smiling back up at you. “Garcia’s stalling.”

“How long do we have?” you asks, sliding the danish away. The light atmosphere is back, but you’re still not sure you can finish it.

Emily reaches for the muffin but instead of taking it for herself she gently places it in front of you.

“How long do you want?”

- - - - - - 

The conversation flows effortlessly. Garcia had promised you 30 more minutes, and you used every second getting to know Emily. She asked you about all of your favorites - color, song, food, movie. You counter by asking her all of the languages she knows. She demonstrates them all. You tell her about all of the times you snuck out in high school, she tells you about the time she almost got arrested in Rome.

Thirty minutes feels like five and it’s only when Emily glances down at her phone that you remember the morning has to end.

“Ready?” she asks, picking up the muffin and croissant wrappers and the remnants of the forgotten danish as she stands up.

Not even a little bit.

By the time you get into the elevator, that uncomfortable feelings is back tenfold, but Emily doesn’t say anything. She just takes a half step closer to you.

As you step out of the elevator Derek is there, jaw tight, arms crossed, eyes focused directly on you.

“Office. Now.” He says.

It’s a demand. You now you don’t have room to argue. You glance over at Emily one more time before you leave, but she’s not looking at you. She’s meeting Derek’s glare with one of her own. You duck your head and walk away.

- - - - - -

Emily barely waits for (Y/N) to push through the double doors before she turns on Morgan, familiar with the power tactic he likes to play.

“What the hell was is your problem?” she snaps, her voice tense but not loud enough to draw attention.

“What the hell is your problem Prentiss,” he shoots back, his voice just as tense.

“I don’t have one. Except for the fact that you’re clearly displacing whatever anger you have right now, onto me.”

“No, my anger is definitey with you!” Morgan bites, moving an inch closer. “What part of “off limits” don’t you understand?”

“The part where it means I can’t take a girl who is obviously in distress to clear her head,” she counters, not backing down. “Since when is that a crime?”

“Do you know how worried I was when I walked back into my office and she wasn’t there?” Morgan asks, and Emily hears it. Past the anger, past any frustration is the worry. The fear. Emily softens.

“She needed a break Morgan. She needs a friend who she isn’t related to.” Morgan huffs, running a hand over his face, before turning to look back at her.

“You don’t get it Emily.”

“Then explain it!” she presses, trying to keep any desperation out of her voice. “Because something is obviously going on. I wasn’t about to push it with her, but I sure as hell am going to push it with you. What is going on?”

She saw something in (Y/N) this morning, something that has her hooked in a way she never has been before and she knows there’s nothing she wouldn’t do in order to help her.

Morgan pauses, taking a breath, his eyes flickering over hers for a moment. He clenches his jaw, clearly going back and forth on whether or not to say something before he steps back, making up his mind.

“Back off Emily,” he says. His voice is softer, but she knows she’s not getting anything else out of him. “She doesn’t need this right now.”

“In case you forgot, Morgan, I’m your partner,” Emily says. “We tell each other everything and I have never done something that I thought would hurt you. I can help you guys. I want to help you guys. You just need to let me.”

Morgan’s expression tightens, something unreadable passing over his face before he turns away, walking back towards the bullpen.

“Why are you shutting me out on this?” Emily says. She’s almost yelling now. She doesn’t care.

“Just let it go Prentiss.”

She watches him for a moment. Watch as he walks away hoping that somehow he’ll turn around and just explain everything. Turn around and let her help. But he keeps walking.

She clenches her fingers for a moment, eyes glancing to Morgan’s office. Like hell she was going to let it go.

Chapter Text

“Just because you’re my brother doesn’t mean you get to order me around like a dog,” you say as Derek walks back into the office. He closes the door behind him, a little harder than necessary before moving over and tugging the blinds closed.

“I know,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose as he turns back around to you. He takes a step closer letting out a breath before meeting your eye. “Look, I’m sorry. But you cannot disappear like that.”

Before you get a chance to say anything back he is pulling you into a hug, arms wrapped around you as if you might slip through. He holds you tight, tighter than he usually does, not planning on letting go just yet.

“You show up here, tell me you have a stalker, and then all of a sudden I don’t know where you are.” His voice drops raw and quiet. “I was worried.”

Your chest aches. You’re not used to him being anything other than your strong older brother. Afraid of nothing. But here he was admitting that you were what scared him. Losing you. You rest your head against his shoulder, leaning further into his embrace with a sigh.

He holds you for another moment before pulling back, eyes roaming over your face for a moment, gripping your arms as if reminding himself that you’re here.

“Hotch says he can’t help,” he says, and your heart drops.

“What?” He looks at you, his face equal parts apologetic and determined.

“He says his hands are tied. And without his approval, I can’t use my team,” Derek says his voice rough. His eyes lock on yours for a second, the look on his face making you nervous. “(Y/N), you need to file a police report…”

“No, Derek, no,” you say quickly, pulling out of his grip. “No police.”

“Why not?”

“Because the police don’t do anything! They already don’t take stalking seriously, what do you want me to do? Go down there and say ‘Hey I think I have a stalker but he’s still in another state and I’m here and he’s never actually threatened my life, nor have I ever seen him, but I feel really icky about it’?”

“Hey…hey,” he says stepping closer to you again. “Ok. I understand. But we can’t just not do anything about this.”

“So what’s the plan?” you ask with a sharp exhale. “What are we going to do?”

“I’ll figure it out,” he says as if it was just that simple. As if just by deciding this, everything was going to be ok.

“You’ll figure it out,” you question. “Just you?”

“Damn right, I’ll figure it out.”

“Derek come on,” you say giving him a look. “If this was something you could handle on your own, you wouldn’t have tried to get the team involved in the first place. Just because you can’t use the whole team doesn’t mean you can’t tell anybody. Emily is your partner, right? She can help."

“No,” he says, the answer out of his mouth before you can even finish the sentence.

“What do you mean no?” you question.

Now you were the one getting irritated. He always does this, always has to be the one in charge, the one to save the day. It doesn’t work. When is he going to realize that this doesn’t work?

“I mean we’re not getting her involved,” he says, clenching his jaw as he hears the irritation rising in your voice. “She’s more of a distraction than anything else.” You furrow your brows.

“You said she’s one of the best profilers, and you guys work together all the time how will she be a distraction?

“Not for me,” he says with a huff. “For you.”

“Derek…” you start to argue but he cuts you off.

“Think about it, (Y/N), you’ve known her for less than 24 hours.”

“And?” you challenge.

“And you’re already running off with her to god knows where without telling me!”

“You’re being dramatic,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “We just went to breakfast.”

“Please," he scoffs. "Knowing Emily, it was a date.”

By the tone of his voice, you can tell he didn’t mean it as a good thing. But still, you feel your cheeks heat up at the memory of the time you spent with her and the fact that it could’ve been a date.

“See that!” he says. “That right there. That reaction is why she can’t be involved. You need to be focused right now (Y/N).”

“In case you forgot, this has been my life for months,” you shoot back. “Sorry for wanting an hour where I get to just exist outside of this mess.”

“Getting Emily involved in any part of this is going to make things even more messy,” he insists. “You have to trust me on this. I’m telling you because I know.”

“So what? You’re going to find this guy all on your own?” you question. And for the first time since the argument started he hesitates. He runs a hand across his jaw glancing towards the door of his office before looking back at you.

“No...I need Garcia.”

- - - - - -

Derek moves quickly, his long strides forcing you to nearly jog to keep up. You can feel the frustration radiating off of him despite his attempt at keep a casual demeaner as he walks through the hall.

“Don’t you have like…work to do?” you ask trying to match his pace. You glance around at the people around the office that you pass dreading that you’ll see a familiar face. “Won’t it be suspicious that you’re in Garcia’s office?”

“It can wait,” he says curtly, not even bothering to knock before pushing open Garcia’s door.

She spins in her chair when you guys walk in, her face lighting up when she sees that it’s you two. But after taking in Derek’s expression, his jaw set, shoulders tight, it falters. Then she looks over at you, the way that you linger in the doorway and it fades completely.

“You know I love my favorite Morgan duo, but this energy is wrong,” she says looking over to Derek. “What’s going on?”

“Babygirl we need your help,” Derek says stepping forward, motioning for you to do the same. You step fully into her office and close the door behind you.

Garcia may not be a profiler but she has that look, and it makes you nervous. Something about being perceived so intensely by one of the sweetest people you've met makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

“You know that’s my favorite sentence to hear but something tells me I’m not going to like this,' Garcia says. Derek gives her an apologetic look. “Are you in trouble?”

He shakes his head and Garcia’s gaze settles on you. She sits there for a moment just looking at you before she stands out of her seat and pulls you into a hug.

“Oh you sweet girl,” she says as she holds you close. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You’re asking Hotch for help?”

“We asked,” Derek says. “But he said no.” Garcia pulls away, her eyes wide.

“He said no? How could he say no?”

“I have a stalker,” you admit quietly, and you hear the small gasp of surprise that Garcia takes. “But apparently he hasn’t escalated enough to warrant you guys to step in. Derek says you can help?”

“Yeah he said I can help because he knows I can help,” she grumbles as she pulls away from you, not before shooting Derek a glare. You watch as she sits back down in her chair and starts typing something into her computer. “He also knows that I hate breaking the rules and that it makes me feel gross. And if I lose my job because of this, Derek Morgan, I swear you are going to owe me big. I’m talking a lifetime of bubble baths, chocolate, and massages..”

As Garcia continues to go on you glance over to Derek. He had mentioned Garcia of course but bubble baths…massages?

Are you two…? You mouth the question to him but he just holds his hand up shaking his head.

“I also know,” he says walking closer to her, his hands resting on the back of her chair as he leans down and presses a kiss to her cheek. “That you are the best woman to ever exist and you can never say no to me. And you definitely can’t say no to helping out my baby sister.”

“You don’t need to butter me up Morgan I’m already in,” she says as she bends down grabbing a cord and plugging it into her laptop. She turns to you again with a soft expression her hand extended to you.

“I’m going to need your phone buttercup,” she says gently. “If this guy has even thought about looking up your Facebook I can find it but I need full access.”

You hesitate, not because you don’t trust her, not because you don’t know that this is the best way to find him but because handing over your phone feels so real. So personal. When you hand your phone to Garica that’s it. No going back, no pretending like this isn’t happening.

“This is how we catch him, (Y/N),” Derek says reassuringly, as he places a hand on your arm. With a deep breath, you unlock your phone and hand it over to Garcia.

She gets to work immediately, hooking your phone up to her system. Within seconds a cascade of data flashes onto the screen that, honestly, you can’t even begin to decipher.

“Where do we start?” Derek asks, leaning in closer to the screen.

“Calls, texts, direct messages. Any way that this guy has personally contacted you can help us track him down,” Garcia says, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

“Uh, he texts, and calls,” you say. “But it’s always from different numbers sometimes different area codes too.” You move closer, mirroring Derek’s position on the opposite side of Garcia, eyes glued to the screen despite your lack of understanding. “By the time I block one three more show up.”

“Classic,” Garcia hums. “Tricky but not impossible. If he’s contacting you he’s leaving a trace somewhere, we just need to sniff it out and…”

Garcia suddenly stops, sitting up straighter with, eyebrows furrowed as she looks at the screen.

“What?” you question, looking between her and the screen.

“You found something?” Derek asks, but Garcia answers our questions with an answer of her own.

“Have you gotten any of these calls or messages since you’ve been in DC?”

“No…” you say with a shake of your head. “I got the last one right before my flight took off. Why?” She shakes her head too before turning to you.

“Because he either got sloppy or cocky. The last three texts that he sent are all pinging from the same Ip address and the same location.” A chill runs down your spine, have you found him? Was it really that easy?

“Where?” you ask. Garcia hesitates, looking away from you.

“Downtown DC," she says, her voice low. 

“What!?” Derek nearly yells as he steps even closer to the screen. You freeze, standing there not moving, barely feeling the beat of your heart. “The bastard is here?!”

“How?” you ask, your voice coming out barely above a whisper. “How is he here he…he hasn’t texted me he...he couldn’t have followed me…”

Garcia gives you a sad, worried look. Her head had gone to the same place at first, but the computer doesn’t lie.

“The texts are from before you even got on the plane, my love,” Garcia says softly. “I don’t know how he did it but it looks like he was in DC before you even were.”

Your knees go weak. The room tilts slightly, your stomach twisting in knots. God, you might throw up. Your mind races. Was this all part of some sick plan he had? Did he somehow know that you were coming here? But how? How could he have known? It was a last-second decision. Did he know about Derek? None of this makes sense.

“(Y/N) breathe,” Derek says, his voice firm but soft, and you finally notice him standing in front of you, concern etched into every crevice of his face. “We’re going to protect you, it’s going to be ok.”

“What’s going to be ok?”

JJ stands in the doorway, her sharp blue eyes scanning the room, picking up the tense atmosphere. Garcia scrambles to turn off their monitors and Derek steps in front of you instinctively.

“Nothing,” Derek says, but it’s obvious that JJ’s not buying it. You shift uncomfortably, still trying to wrap your head around everything.

“If something is going on, you know we can help right?” JJ says.

“JJ, everything is fine,” Derek tries to reassure her. She crosses her arms.

“Penelope,” JJ says looking towards Garcia. She turns back around to her computer avoiding eye contact. “Guys, if it’s that serious, maybe you should tell someone.”

“We tried,” Derek finally admits. “Hotch said he couldn’t do anything.”

“So you’re taking the initiative and doing it on your own?” JJ’s question is met with silence. JJ glances around the room once more before her eyes settle on you, still standing behind Derek. “Are you in trouble?”

“She’s fine,” Derek answers.

“She can speak for herself, no?”

You swallow hard looking between the two of them. There’s so much going on in your head, so many emotions and feelings you wrap your arms around yourself to keep from shaking.

“I’m ok,” you finally say to JJ.
She knows your lying and she doesn’t hide the fact that she knows that you’re lying but she doesn’t push it. Instead, she looks at you one more time before taking a step back towards the door.

“Look whatever this is…just be careful ok? And if it gets any worse, you know I’m always here to help.”

“Thanks, JJ,” Derek says and JJ nods once before walking back out of the office and closing the door.

Silence hangs in the room as you all wait until the sound of her footsteps fades.

“That was too close,” Garcia mutters.

“Agreed,” Derek says. “Garcia, can you do any of this stuff on your laptop?”

“Not all of it but something is better than nothing.”

“We’re taking this off the grid.”

- - - - - -

It’s hard not to notice the way JJ walks into the bullpen. Emily’s eyes follow her as she approaches her desk.

“Got a second?” JJ asks, perching herself on the edge of Emily’s. Her voice holds that tone she uses when she needs insight on a case. The same voice she uses when she’s not sure what to do.

“What’s up?” Emily asks.

“Has Morgan told you anything?” JJ asks, with a shrug, as if trying to downplay whatever she is about to bring up

“Told me anything about what?” Emily questions, her head tilting as she looks at JJ. She knows where her mind immediately goes when she thinks about Morgan, but she’s not sure if that’s what JJ is about to bring up.

“Anything at all I guess,” she says. “I just found him, Garcia, and his sister in Garcia’s office. They were being secretive and cagey.”

This gets Emily’s attention and she pushes her paperwork to the side as she leans in closer to JJ.

“Did you ask what they were doing? What did they say?”

“Next to nothing,” JJ says. “Just that whatever they are doing Hotch doesn’t know about.”

Emily leans back in her chair, her thumb raising to her mouth as she bites at the skin around her nail, a bad habit she’s been meaning to break.

“You were with (Y/N) this morning right?” JJ continues. “Did she say anything? I mean it’s a little suspicious. This random sister we’ve never heard anything about shows up at the BAU and everybody all of a sudden starts to keep secrets?”

Emily thinks back on her morning with (Y/N). The way she could tell that she was obviously dealing with something. The fact that they both shut down when she mentioned the meeting with Hotch. It must not have turned out well. And now they were trying to figure it out behind his back?

“I just don’t get why they won’t just tell us,” JJ speaks again. “We can help.” Emily sighs, her hand falling away from her mouth glancing over to Hotch’s office.

“Maybe we shouldn’t give them the option.”

Chapter Text

Going off the grid couldn’t start until after work. Derek would have left right then if he could, but they still had at least 6 more hours of their work day. And you were going to be locked in his office with him for all of them.

You tried to focus on your schoolwork for a while, then scrolled on your phone, ate lunch with Derek and Garcia, went back to your schoolwork, and then got bored.

Now you were laying on the couch on your stomach, your head resting on your arms. You had meant to take a nap, but as you looked at Derek you couldn’t seem to stop watching him. He was so different at work when he got lost in the case files, a little notebook next to him for him to jot down whatever came to mind. He was SSA Morgan. It was strange.

“Do you always get like this when you work?” you question. He doesn’t look up, flipping to another page and writing another note.

“Get like what?”

“You know,” you say shifting so you’re sitting up. “All focused and serious.”

“It’s a serious job…” he says finally looking up with you, a small smirk on his face. “Yeah (Y/N), I get serious.” You hum, tilting your head as he looks back down, his eyebrows furrowing as he focuses again on his work.

“You know I never knew that this is what you do,” you continue. He puts his pen down with an amused huff at your continued interruption and looks at you again. “I always thought you guys were on a jet every other day catching serial killers all across the country.”

“We do that sometimes,” he says with a nod. “Most of the time we catch the bad guys from right here. Like this file,” he says tapping the open folder in front of him. “It was sent over by a police precinct in Vermont. We review it, give our profile send it back. This job is more sitting at a desk than anything.”

“So all of those muscles go to waste then?” You joke, and Derek rolls his eyes.

“I’ll have you know, little girl, that I can pick you up and throw you with no problem. So watch how you’re talking.” You give him a dramatic gasp.

“Oh, I’m shaking!” you say and you can’t help the laugh that follows. Derek joins in and for a moment you’re taken back, the warmth of memories settling in the room.

“I remember when mom used to have to beg you to sit at a desk,” you say as your laughter dies down. “You always wanted to be outside, playing football.”

“Hey!" He shakes his head, pointing an accusatory finger at me. “You were right out there with me.”

“Yeah because you were a bad influence." You still remember being at his games and practices, running up and down the sidelines as his personal cheerleader. “It’s a good thing the only homework I was missing was sentence structure.”

“Oh that explains a lot,” Derek says with a snort. You grab one of the pillows on his couch and throw it towards him but he catches it.

“I will have you know my Master’s in English Literature is coming along very nicely thank you,” you say sitting back and crossing your arms, playful smile still on your face. “Graduation is only a few months away, and I expect you to be there.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice. “Our own little Miss Yale graduate.”

“Not yet, don’t jinx it. And I know you aren’t talking Mr. FBI. I bet the girls eat that up huh?”

“They sure do." He winks and wiggles his eyebrows, which makes you roll your eyes. “The muscles too.”

“Oh, barf,” you say and he laughs again. As the laughter settles, you sit back on the couch and look around his office again. He didn’t have much, so you hadn’t paid much attention before but now you have a chance to look around a bit more.

You lean forward, reaching for the placard with his name on it. Derek Morgan. So official. You put it back as you smile to yourself. A few of Garcia’s trinkets had obviously made it onto his desk, along with a few pictures of her as well. There’s one in a bright green frame that pulls your attention but it’s the picture next to it that really hits you.

You push yourself up, standing from the couch and moving over to the framed photograph as if drawn to it by a magnet. Derek’s eyes follow your gaze, and he lets out a soft sigh.

“(Y/N)...” he says gently. You reach out and your fingers ghost across the picture frame. Emotion builds in the back of your throat against your will. 

“Mom loves this picture." It’s a picture you’re familiar with, you had to see the larger version in your childhood home every single time you walked through the front door.

It’s a beautiful picture. Your dad stands at the center grinning widely with his arm wrapped around your mom’s shoulders. Sarah and Desiree stand close in front of them, also prepared for the picture. Derek is looking off to the side, the youngest of the bunch, clearly not prepared, yet photogenic nonetheless.

You weren’t in it. It was taken before you were born. Yet, when you thought about your family it was always this picture. Always them, never you.

“When’s the last time you went home?” Derek asks, his voice soft as he looks at you. He looks at you like you’re something fragile, someone he needs to walk on eggshells around. You pull your hand away from the picture and walk back over to plop down on the couch.

“When’s the last time I was invited?” you had meant it as a joke, but the words came out more bitter than you intended. “You know I love seeing you but, going home just reminds me of-”

“I know…” he says with a nod, that apologetic look in his eye. You don’t need his pity.

“Yeah, of course, you do,” you say with a forced laugh. “Is that why you don’t have any pictures of me either? Why your team didn’t know I existed?”

“The team didn’t know about you because you moved away and never looked back,” he counters.

“And what do you call this?” you ask gesturing vaguely around his office. “Doesn’t look much like Chicago to me.”

“Hey, look at the family,” he says. “Escapism is what we do best.”

The silence stretches as old memories mix with new, good and bad. You haven’t had a bad life, not by a long shot but, sitting here in Derek’s office, running away from a stalker with nobody else to turn to, you’ve never felt more alone. And you’re taken right back to that 8-year-old girl in a house that didn’t want her.

“It was never you, you know,” Derek finally says and you look over to meet his eye.

“I know,” you say with a nod.

“After Dad, we all changed. Everything was different for everybody except for you. And Mom, Sarah, and Des…they just didn’t quite know what to do.

“Yeah, but you did,” you say.

“Not really.” He shakes his head as his gaze drops lower. “I should’ve done more. I should’ve stuck around.”

Your breath catches at his words, at his admission. You want to dissect it, pick at the wounds you’ve had buried for so long. But not here. Not now. And besides, there’s a stubborn part of you that didn’t want him to see you weak.

“You were a kid, Derek,” you finally say. “And you had your own stuff. You did what you could.”

Your words were meant to reassure him, to table this conversation for later but he still looks uneasy. Like there is more that he wants to say. Like he has just as much buried as you and no real way to dig it up. Neither of you have ever really been good at emotions.

“Besides,” you continue. “You did fine, FBI.”

- - - - - -

You don’t bring it up again and neither does Derek. Not like you really expected him to though. The day is quiet, and you go home, eating leftover pizza and curling up with Clooney in the guest bedroom while Derek is on the phone with Garcia. They had asked for you to join, which made sense considering you were at the center of this whole mess but you couldn’t. The day was already draining as it is, breakfast with Emily, the argument with Derek, and then finding out that your stalker is here in DC. It was too much.

They realized they weren’t going to get far without you, so they gave up relatively quickly, and Derek checked in on you before heading to his own bed. He grumbled something about Clooney and betrayal, but you barely hear it, already half asleep.

The next morning, he drags you back into the BAU bright and early. You know that with the stalker here now, staying alone right now seems almost impossible. You just wish you hadn't had to get there so early that half of the team isn’t even in the building yet.

“I’m teaching a class today,” Derek says as he drops his stuff off in his office. You take your usual seat on the couch.

“You mean I get a whole free day?” you ask with a smirk.

“You got lucky,” he says with a quiet laugh. “You’re on your own, but I’d rather you be on your own here than at home.”

“Yeah yeah. Don’t get sappy," you say as you pull your laptop out of your bookbag. “I have a paper to write anyway, so I’ll be in here all day.”

“Good,” he says walking over and placing a kiss on your temple. You remember a time when this would’ve made you gag but instead, you just smile.

“I love you, kid,” he says as he walks out the door. You give him a small wave before turning back to your computer and getting to work.

After two and a half hours of staring at your screen rewriting and deleting the same three paragraphs over and over, both you and your laptop need a break. Your eyes are burning, and the brown walls feel much more stifling than they did before.

Moving your laptop to the side you stand and stretch feeling the stiffness that comes from sitting still for so long. You could wander, maybe pop in on Garcia, or say hey to JJ and Reid. Maybe stop by Emily’s desk…she did say that you could any time.

It’s tempting, but you don’t want to cause any problems by interrupting them while they are working. Eventually, you decide to just move around, stretching your muscles and observing the halls of the FBI. There’s not much to see, mostly just a low of grays but you do manage to find a small room with a fridge, sink, and coffee machine. You don’t hesitate to move over to the machine, fixing yourself a cup of coffee, hoping it'll help you focus.

The first sip of coffee is…less than ideal, and you start to look around at the cabinets for anything that can fix it. There are some sugar packets, powdered creamer, and even a bottle of honey, but you might just have to call it a loss.

“Third day in a row.”

You turn your head towards the door, a smile already on your face as you recognize the voice. Emily leans against the doorframe, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips

“Three is the magic number,” you say, and as she sees your smile hers grows wider.

“Let me guess, couldn’t get enough of this place?”

“Couldn’t get enough of this amazing coffee,” you say, lifting your cup and wiggling it for emphasis.

Emily chuckles as she pushes off of the doorframe walking further into the room. She leans against the counter next to you and the warmth of her presence is grounding.

“I didn’t even know you were here,” she says. “Have you been in Morgan’s office all day?”

You nod, bringing the coffee cup up to your lips again. Nope, still not good. Emily shakes her head.

“Well glad to see you’ve escaped your prison.”

“I think that’ll be the first and last time I’ve heard an FBI agent say that sentence,” you say.

“Knowing the agents I know, I wouldn’t bet on that,” Emily says with a grin.

“Noted,” you start to move over to the trash can to throw away the coffee but Emily places a hand on your arm stopping you, taking the coffee out of your hands, and opening the cabinet again.

“Morgan’s doing a training today right?” She asks, and you watch her fix your coffee. “You’re all alone in there?”

“Yeah, it’s not too bad,” you say. “I did think I was going crazy for a moment, but it had less to do with the lack of company, more to do with the work.”

“Work?” She questions, eyebrows lifted in interest.

“My schoolwork.”

She puts the top back on your coffee cup and slides it over to you again, eyes watching expectantly. You lift it to your lips again and are pleasantly surprised by the taste. She notices and gives herself a pat on the back that makes you giggle.

“You’re in your master's program right?” She asks, smiling at your laugh.

“You remembered,” you say, mildly impressed.

“It was just yesterday,” she says, flatly, like her remembering was obvious. “It would be concerning if I didn’t. You didn’t tell me where you were studying though.”

“Yale,” you say, and Emily stills. She raises an eyebrow.

“You’re kidding?”

“No,” you say, confused with her question. She lets out a short laugh.

“I went to Yale. It was a while ago but…” she makes a face as she adds up the years and lets out a slow whistle. “Hmph.”

“How old are you?” You ask with a smirk. Emily blinks for a moment before looking back toward you.

“Wow, so anyway, Yale,” she says, redirecting without missing a beat.

“Yeah,” you say as you huff out a laugh. “Yale. One more thing we have in common.”

“And what are the other things?” She questions. You tap your fingers against your cup as you think for a moment.

“We both like chocolate, we’re both night owls, and we both used to get into trouble.”

“Used to?” She questions, giving you a skeptical look.

“Are you still pushing this agenda that I’m trouble?” You ask.

“Well, you've stirred up some trouble somewhere…haven’t you?” She questions her head tilted with a knowing look.

The teasing and playful energy lingers but something settles on top of it. Your smile falters at the implication of her words.

“That’s why you and Derek need Hotch’s help right?” She continues. Her tone is still light, in a way that can be passed off as teasing but something sinks in your stomach.

Her gaze is a little too sharp. Eyes unwavering. You know you should tread carefully, Derek’s warning echoing in your head. Keep her out. It’ll get messy. You clear your throat.

“I should get back to my paper,” you say with a nod forcing the smile back on your face. “Thanks for fixing my coffee.” You start to walk away, escaping back to the office when you hear her voice again.

“Wait,” she says, softer, less insistent more concerned. You close your eyes and take a breath, it’ll be so easy to just keep walking. Go back to the office finish your paper and then meet with Derek and Garcia to find your stalker. “Please, don’t shut down on me.” She asks and what little resolve you have breaks.

“Emily,” you say turning around to face her again.

“Can you at least tell me why are you here?” She has that look again, the profiler look that makes you feel bare. God you were really starting to hate that look. You drop your head, your eyes focusing on your shoes instead.

“I’m just visiting Derek.”

“Who isn’t even here,” Emily points out, taking a half step closer to you, her voice still gentle. “He’s been gone for a training all morning. You could’ve waited at his apartment or explored DC alone, but you’re choosing to sit in his office…Unless it’s not a choice…And if it’s not a choice, that means you’re here for a reason.”

“You’re profiling me, Emily. Stop it.” You say your voice tight. “What happened to “things mean a little more when you tell me yourself?” or was that just a nonsense line you say to everyone you take out to breakfast.”

There it is, something unspoken, something you both felt but hadn’t dared to acknowledge.

“(Y/N), I meant it.” she insists, standing even closer now. “But I’m worried.”

“Don’t be,” you say, finally looking back up at her. Emily lets out a sharp exhale through her nose and shakes her head.

“I can’t not be worried. There’s clearly something that you’re dealing with that you’re not telling anybody. And now JJ tells me that you and Derek are going behind Hotch’s back to try and fix it? Was yesterday morning nothing? I thought you could talk to me.”

Your heart thumps, another thing that Derek said echoing in your mind. Knowing Emily, it was a date.

“Yesterday was breakfast…I barely know you and despite whatever this is, you barely know me.”

You hope it’ll be enough. You hope that Emily will back off and you can retreat to solitude to sort out the emotions quickly piling up in your mind but she doesn’t.

“I know enough to not want you to feel like you have to do this alone. I know that…even if I didn't feel the way that I feel for you, you’d still be family because Derek is family. And our family here, we protect each other. (Y/N) just let me help.”

Your breath and heart both stutter. This is crazy. The stalker, being here, falling for one of Derek’s coworkers in less than 36 hours. It’s all ridiculous. Derek’s right, it’s too much too fast and you’re not focused.

But another part of you wants to tell Emily. More than anything you want to tell her. You want to tell her and you want to figure out who this guy is. You want to live your life, you want to go on another date with Emily.

But Derek is the little man sitting on your shoulder, holding you back. 

“I can’t.”

Emily studies you, her expression tense.

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Can’t,” you say. “I can’t involve you.”

“So you are in trouble?” She asks.

“I have work to do,” you say as you take a step back. The words feel heavier than you mean for them to but you don’t have time to reflect, you just turn and head for the door again.

You’ve just reached the threshold when your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out, fully intending to glance at the screen while continuing the walk but when you see the text, all of the air leaves your lungs in a silent gasp.

Your grip falters, the coffee slipping out of your hand and hitting the ground with a dull splatter. You have to hold the phone with both hands as you lift the phone closer to your face and slide open the message, making sure you’re really seeing what’s on the screen.

It's a picture from an unknown number.

An apartment complex.

Derek’s apartment complex.

Your chest tightens and panic rises, sharp and cold. It weighs on top of every other emotion and you start to spiral. You can’t speak, can barely breathe your breath stuttering in too short, too shallow breaths.

He’s here and he knows where you’re staying.

The walls feel like they are closing in, the floor unsteady beneath you. A sharp ringing fills your ears and your lungs refuse to expand properly. Your limbs are shaking like there’s ants crawling under your skin. God your chest hurts.

Then there’s Emily.

She’s in front of you in an instant, her hands gentle and firm as she pulls the phone from your grip. She scans the picture before looking up at you. She’s putting the pieces together. It’s not the whole puzzle but it’s enough.

“Hey,” she says softly stepping closer, her presence cutting through the haze. “You’re ok.”

“No, Emily I…” you gasp out as your hands clutch at your ribs. You squeeze your eyes shut. You need to calm down, you know you need to calm down but you can’t. You can’t get a single breath in and at this rate, you’ll pass out before anything else.

“(Y/N), look at me,” Emily says, firmer now. “You need to breathe.”

You hear Emily’s voice but it’s distant, as if coming from a speaker underwater. You’re slipping, too far gone to listen to reason.

But Emily knows this, she sees it. So she does the only thing she can think. She touches you.

Her warm hand cradles your cheek, a gentle anchor. Your eyes snap open, startled by the contact. Your panicked eyes are met with her soft brown ones, warm and unwavering.

“Just focus on me” She murmurs, her thumb running gently across your cheekbone. “You’re fine, you’re safe. Just look at me, ok?”

You latch onto her voice and give her a small nod. Your breath is still uneven, still ragged, but your head is a little more clear.

“Good,” Emily says, her voice a gentle hum. “Now follow my breaths.”

She inhales, deeply, slowly, and you try to mimic. Your lungs resist but she keeps her eyes on yours, her hand never leaving your face.

One breath, then another, and another. Slowly the tingling fades and the squeeze of your chest doesn’t feel life threatening anymore. She waits until the worst is over until she sees you settling before she speaks again.

“I know you don’t want to, but you have to tell me what’s going on. What’s this picture?” Your throat is tight as you force the words out, but you do get them out.

“It’s from my stalker. I came here to get away from him, but somehow he’s here. And now…now he knows where Derek’s apartment is…he knows where I’m staying…” Your voice breaks at the end of your sentence and your eyes sting.

Emily lets out a breath, her gaze shifting into something deeper than concern. She runs her thumb across your cheek once more before letting it fall. The loss of contact is only momentary as she pulls your hand in hers a moment later. She laces her fingers with yours and you squeeze her hand, desperate and thankful for the grounding touch.

“Hotch won’t help,” Emily says, more of a statement than a question. The puzzle has come together now, and a look of anger passes over her face.

“He said he couldn’t unless it escalated or I filled a police report.” Emily’s jaw tightens and she lifts the phone again, still opened to the text message.

“Has he ever sent you a picture like this before?” she asks

“No,” you whisper, as you look back down at it. Her grip on your hand tightens.

“Between this and him following you across the country, (Y/N), this is the escalation. We need to tell hotch.”

There’s no room for argument or negotiation, not that you would’ve anyway. She looks into your eyes again, giving you a short reassuring nod before she starts walking, taking you with her.

Chapter Text

Emily’s hand is firm, grounding, and steady even though your legs feel weak beneath you. As she practically drags you through the bullpen, heads turn. JJ glances up from her desk, her brows knitting together as she sees Emily’s determined stride and your near shell-shocked expression. Reid’s eyes follow you too, curiosity flicking over his face, and even Rossi sticks his head out of his office. But Emily pays them no mind; her only focus getting you to Hotch’s office. 

She doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t even knock before pushing the door open. He turns at the intrusion, phone held to his ear, and his sharp gaze flicks first to Emily and then settles on you. Whatever he sees, the tension in your shoulder, fear on your face, or tight grip you have on Emily’s hand, it makes his posture stiffen slightly.

He holds up his hand, silently asking for a moment of patience, before turning away, still listening to whoever is on the other end of the line. 

Emily tries to be patient, she really does, but you feel her hand squeezing yours, her foot tapping the ground. But she’s so full of worry she can’t help it.

“It’s about (Y/N)’s stalker,” she finally says. This gets his attention. Hotch immediately turns back around, his expression sharpening. 

 “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to call you back,” he mutters into the phone before hanging up and setting it back on the line. “Morgan already brought this to my attention. Prentiss we…”

“She just got this text message. Just now. So I know you haven’t seen it.” Emily practically shoves the phone into his hands, not giving him a chance to refuse. His eyes linger on her as he takes the phone, assessing, studying. He’d only seen her like this a handful of times, this urgency, this fear. 

He looks down at the screen, his expression unreadable as he looks at the picture. He takes a breath, slow, calculated, as if he’s already planning his next steps. But instead of acting immediately, he hands the phone back to Emily, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Is that…”

“Yes,” Emily says tightly. 

Hotch is quiet for another moment, his gaze drifting to the window. He’s looking out to the bullpen, looking at his team. He’s never going to show it, but Emily knows he’s hesitating. 

“Hotch, come on, you cannot be serious! Not only is this a potentially deadly case of stalking, but you have a criminal who is watching and taking pictures of the places your agents sleep at night.”

“Strauss…”

“Fine,” Emily says with a scoff. “If you’re not going to help, then we’ll figure it out ourselves.”

Emily’s hand is almost cutting off circulation as she tightens her grip even more, turning on her heels and starting to walk away until you hear Hotch’s voice again. 

“Strauss is going to have a lot of questions. So we need to make sure we have as much shared information as possible,” he says, his voice firm and level. “Can you brief the team?” 

She hesitates for only a second, her eyes flickering to you and her hand loosening in yours. There’s something softer in her gaze now, something sympathetic and…apologetic. You don’t have time to question it before she turns back to Hotch. 

“I just learned about it, I don’t know enough.”

“Morgan,” you say quietly, and both of them look over to you. “I’ve told him everything, He’s read the journal a hundred times.” 

“Journal?” Emily questions, her voice soft as she looks at you. 

“It’s in my bag,” you say, meeting her eye. “I’ve written down everything.” 

“You two go get it,” Hotch says, not wasting time. “I’ll call Morgan and gather the rest of the team. Meet us in the conference room.”

He pulls out his cell phone, already dialing as he moves past you both and steps out of the office. Emily fully turns to you then, and you can feel some of the tension falling off of her, though your pulse is still racing. 

“Come on,” she says, giving you a small, reassuring smile that honestly might be more for herself than for you. She runs her thumb across the back of your hand before the two of you start to walk towards Derek’s office. 

You find the journal with shaky hands and stand up, looking back over at Emily. She notices the shakiness and steps closer. 

“You ok?” she asks, and you nod, but then a second later, you shake your head. 

“I don’t know,” you admit. She reaches out and places a gentle hand on your arm. You look down at it before looking back up at her, a flutter of something working its way through your gut. Nerves or something else you can’t tell. 

“Just remember to breathe, ok?” she says. “The team is going to help. We can all help (Y/N), you’re safe.” 

“Right,” you say, letting out a breath. Emily’s reassuring words and presence settle you, and her hand slides from your arm to your back as you walk to the conference room. 

The room is already full by the time the two of you walk in. Garcia immediately rushes to you, pulling you into a hug as Emily sits down, joining JJ, Reid, and Rossi at the table. Hotch stands by the large screen on one side of the room, arms crossed, that same tight expression on his face. 

“Is Morgan coming?” Emily asks. 

“We called him,” JJ says. “He didn’t answer.” 

“He probably doesn’t have his phone,” Rossi chimes in. “Not while he’s with the other agents.” 

“Even when he gets the message, it’ll take him a while to get back. The training is on the other side of campus,” Reid says. 

“(Y/N)...” Hotch says, looking at you as Garcia finally lets you out of the hug. You look around and realize that everyone is looking at you. Garcia gives you a sympathetic look before glancing down at the book in your hands. 

“I can’t…” You say understanding what they are asking. It was bad enough telling Derek, letting Garcia go through your phone. But standing here in front of Derek’s closest friend. His team. Emily… Telling them about the last year of hell that you’ve been through, you can’t do it. 

“(Y/N),” Emily says, looking at you. She gives you a small nod, and you breath. Once. Twice. And you nod back. 

Stepping towards the table, towards the team whose eyes are all watching you, some worried, some curious. You lower the journal onto the table and flip it open to the first page. 

“The first time I noticed something was wrong…” you say, pausing to steady your voice. Breathe. “Was about a year ago. Somebody left a gift for me in class. A little care bear with a note.” 

“I brushed it off. I took pictures to send to my friends because I thought it was cute, but I didn’t think much of it. But then it started to become an everyday thing, gifts left in different classes by the table I sit at in the library. I started just ignoring them, and that’s when the nexts, emails, dms all started coming.”

JJ and Reid exchange a glance. Already profiling, analyzing. 

“He would compliment me sometimes, sometimes he would wish me luck on a test that I had that day that I hadn’t told anybody about. That’s when I went to the campus police, but they didn’t do anything. Told me I was overreacting that he hadn’t threatened me.”

You continue talking, going through the story page by page of your journal, the team silent nobody makign a sound or interrupting. There was the occasional question asked, but for the most part, all attention was on you. You kept glancing towards Emily, and every time you met her eye, you took a breath. 

It was during one of these breaths that the door swings open and Derek steps inside. His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, he looks like he ran the whole way here. 

“He sent you a picture?!” he asks, his gaze immediately locking onto yours. Noticing his demeanor, Garcia stands up from her seat. 

“I can take it from here,” she says to you softly. “I’ll go through what I found.” You nod, and a moment later, Derek grabs your wrist gently, and you let him guide you out of the conference room and into the hallway. 

The second the door shuts behind you, he pulls you into his arms. The hug is tight, warm, and familiar. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and you lean into his comfort. “I should have been here, I shouldn’t have done the training.” You shake your head. 

“It’s ok, I’m ok,” you say, and Derek pulls back enough to look at your face. 

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“I will be…your team is good, right?” He smirks. 

“My team is great.” 

- - - - - - 

Hours passed, and not a single page, not a single sentence, a single gift was left unturned. You had to talk about and relive every detail you put into the journal, and some you hadn’t even thought anything about until they asked or probed about it. You felt raw. Your body felt heavy, and your mind was such a jumbled mess you couldn’t even think enough to feel scared or worried. 

They tried to be careful. Derek didn’t dare let them push you too hard, but there were things that they needed to know in order to catch this guy. You knew that, but that didn’t make it any easier. 

They are moving around you, writing stuff on the whiteboard, passing around the journal. It's constant, and they barely notice as you rest your head on the table, just needing to rest your eyes for a moment. You’re not sure how long you stay there, head resting on your arms on the table in front of you, until you hear a soft voice tickling your ear. 

“Hey,” Emily says softly as you look up. Her hand is resting on your back again, and she’s kneeling down next to your chair, eye level with you. “We’re calling it a night for you, ok? You don’t need to keep hearing all of this.” 

You blink up at her before glancing around the room, only now realizing that the constant noise of movement and chatter has stopped. They were now all looking at you with concern. 

“You need to rest,” JJ says gently.

“I’m resting,” you say, sitting up, suddenly feeling embarrassed, like you should be doing more, contributing more. 

“You should get out of here, kid,” Rossi says. 

“But where is she going to go?” Garcia asks, and everyone pauses. 

“She’s not going back to my place,” Derek says. “He obviously knows that she has been staying there. He could be waiting there right now.” 

“She can stay at mine,” Emily says, standing up but her eyes not leaving you. 

“No,” Morgan says immediately. 

“No?” Emily questions. 

“If he knows enough about (Y/N) and her life to not only know that I live in DC but also know that I would be the person she came to, then he knows I am a part of the BAU. He could be watching any of our houses right now.” 

“Well, what other option do we have? They are never going to approve of us using one of the safe houses, and even then, she’ll be there alone, and I know you don’t want that,” Emily shoots back. 

“There has to be another option,” Derek says. He looks around the room, silently asking for help, for somebody to back him up, give him another option, something. But they all give him the same look. 

“It’s late. We’re all tired. We can talk next steps in the morning, but we can’t sit here all night,” Hotch says, his voice authoritative with a hint of irritation. Derek lets out a huff as you push yourself to standing, Emily still standing close. 

“Derek, Emily, you two go with (Y/N) to Emily’s apartment. If he is watching, it’s better for both of you to be there,” Hotch continues. 

“Come on,” Emily says gently, glancing between you and Derek. “Let's get you out of here.”

Chapter Text

You move towards Emily’s apartment door in a straight line. If anybody else saw the three of you, it would look comical. Emily is in the front, glancing back at you periodically. You walk just behind her, and Derek is in the back, hand resting on his gun in his holster, on guard and tense. 

As Emily unlocks the door and pushes it open, she holds it for you to walk through. She follows, but Derek lingers in the doorway, looking up and down the halls before stepping inside.

“Set the alarm,” Derek says as he turns the lock for the door more forcefully than necessary. 

“It automatically sets,” Emily says as she tosses her keys onto the small table by the door, shrugging off her jacket. 

“Can you check it?” Derek asks, his voice tense.

“Can you chill?” Emily shoots back as she turns to him, her eyebrows raised in surprise at his tone. She moves over to check the lock anyway. “It’s set.” 

She walks away from Derek with a roll of her eyes and moves towards you. 

“You wanna go lay down?” Emily asks, her hand resting gently on your arm. You start to nod to her, but Derek interrupts. 

“She should stay in the living room,” He says. Emily lets out a huff, giving you an apologetic look. She already knows this is going to be a long night. “Couch is right here. She can lie down while we keep an eye on her.” 

“She’s spent the entire day being interrogated and questioned by the team,” Emily says, turning to him but her hand not falling away from your arm. “She might like some privacy. Like a room with a door.” 

“She might like to be where we can get to her easily if something happens,” Derek says, not backing down.

The difference between them is immense, and you stand there awkwardly as they go back and forth, arguing about you. You understand them both. Derek’s need to make sure that he can protect you and Emily’s need to make sure you feel safe and comfortable. Ideally, you’d like both, but you’re not sure you’re going to get it. Not here. Not yet. 

“She can hear you guys,” you finally chime in. “And honestly, all she wants right now is to take a shower.” 

The argument stops dead as they both look over to you. Derek presses his lips together before turning away, his hand balling into a tight fist by his side. He wants to say something, keep arguing, maybe make demands, but he’s holding himself back. 

“Of course,” Emily says, thumb running gently across your arm. “It’s this way.” As the two of you make your way toward the bathroom, Derek lets out a sharp exhale as he sits down in the armchair. 

When you get into the bathroom, Emily reaches into the linen closet and pulls out a plush towel and wash cloth for you. You reach out, and she places it into your hand with a soft smile.

“You can use my soap as much as you want just…let me know if you need anything,” Emily says as she starts to head towards the doo,r but as you look down at the towel a sudden thought pops into your head. 

“I don’t have any clothes,” you admit quietly, and Emily stops, the realization hitting her as you say the words. Everything you had brought that wasn’t in your bookbag is still at Derek’s apartment. Your clothes, soap, toothbrush. It’s all out of reach.  

“I’ll grab you something you can wear, ok?” Emily says, shooting you another reassuring smile. “Go ahead and hop in. Turn the knob to the left for hot.”

You can help as your eyes follow her walking out of the bathroom. You take a breath before closing your eyes tight. You take a moment, standing there in the silences, your fingers running across the soft threads of the towel before you turn and start the shower. 

You turn the knob all the way to the right until it can’t turn anymore. You undress and step under the water, the steam instantly filling the room, the scorching water rushing over your skin. Some of the stiffness in your muscles eases, the stress of the day flowing down the drain with it. But as the water washes away your stress, it also strips away the last of your defenses. 

You press your hands to your face, your chest heaving in deep breaths as you try to hold back the tears that you can feel pushing at the back of your eyes. It doesn’t work, and you can feel the warm tears drifting down your face. It’s like a dam breaking, and once the first ones fall, they don’t stop. But you don’t even try anymore. You let yourself cry while the warmth of the shower wraps you in a thick, oddly comforting blanket. 

A soft knock on the door pulls you away from your tears, from your emotion, and you wipe your face, sniffing back any of the remaining tears as you remember that you can’t stand in here all night. 

“(Y/N)?” Emily’s voice calls, gentle and muffled through the door. “I got some clothes, I’ll leave them out here, ok?” 

“Ok,” you say, your voice thick and you cringe a little at the emotion you can still hear there. You can hear the faint rustle as Emily sets down the clothes. You can hear her hesitate, standing outside of the door for a moment before her footsteps finally retreat towards the living room. 

You close your eyes again, taking a deep, shaky breath as you grab the wash cloth and finish your shower. 

You step out of the shower minutes later, wrapping the towel tightly around yourself. The exhaustion clings to your skin after your crying session earlier, but the release has at least taken some of the edge off. 

You crack open the bathroom door and pick up the clothes Emily’s left out there for you. The temperature difference between the bathroom and hallway causes a shiver to run down your spine before you close the bathroom door again. 

You examine the clothes, a T-shirt and a pair of soft sweatpants. They don’t match the sharp and tailored blazers and button-ups you’ve seen Emily in these past few days. Instead, they are worn in a way that tells you they may be some of Emily’s favorites. You pull them on with a small smile. There was still a lot you needed to learn about Emily. 

“Perfect timing,” Derek says as you step out from the bathroom and walk into the living room as he sets down a bag of Chinese food. “I got your favorite.” 

You glance down as he pulls out the containers. He places orange chicken, fried rice, and eggrolls in front of you as you sit on the couch. He’s not wrong…this did always used to be your favorite. But you can’t remember the last time you ordered it for yourself. You don’t have the heart to correct him. Instead, you force a smile and thank him as Emily passes you a pair of chopsticks.

Derek grins, pleased with himself as he starts to dig into his food. He doesn’t notice the way you hesitate for just a moment before taking a bite. It isn’t bad, you enjoy it, and it means a lot that he remembered something that used to be so important to you. But something about this moment makes you feel…disconnected. Maybe you and Derek needed to learn more about each other, too.  

Derek eats quickly, throwing away his trash in the kitchen and immediately sitting back int he armchair, flipping through the pages of your journal. He examines it as if he is going to find something new, as if there may have been something he missed the first hundred times. 

You lose your appetite shortly after he starts. The way his foot is tapping, the mumbling under his breath, the constant jotting of notes, moving to the windows, double checking of locks. You feel the tension you had just gotten rid of quickly building again. You take your food into the kitchen, leaving the half-eaten food on the counter. Emily’s eyes follow you before she looks back over to Derek. 

“Hey,” she says, tapping his arm to get his attention. “You wanna take a break? Just for tonight.” 

“We can’t afford a break, Prentiss,” he counters, not even bothering to look up at her. “The sooner we find this guy, the better.” Emily sighs and looks over to you as you walk back into the living room and sit back on the couch. She sees how your eyes are on Derek, how you're curling yourself into the corner of the couch, and her heart breaks. She slides closer to you on the couch before grabbing the remote from the coffee table. 

“Let’s watch a movie,” she says, pulling your attention. You look at her and give her a small nod, and she responds with a smile. 

You try to watch the movie, both of you. But Derek’s presence is a weight you can’t shake. His constant vigilance and the worry seeping off of him keep you so tethered to the reality of the situation that you can’t even let your mind escape into the story. 

Emily tries. She makes comments and jokes at the perfect time, watching you carefully, gently nudging your shoulder at any good parts. Eventually, she too gets fed up as Derek asks to turn the volume down so he can focus. 

“I’m going to bed,” she says with a huff as she stands. “(Y/N), you want to take the guest room?” 

“She can sleep here. I’ll keep watch,” Derek says. Emily rolls her eyes. 

“This isn’t a stakeout, Morgan. She’s safe here. You both need to sleep.”

“I don’t need to sleep,” he says as he turns another page. With a frustrated shake of her head and one last glance towards you, she turns to start to walk to her bedroom. 

“Guest room is yours if you want it (Y/N),” she says to you one more time before she disappears behind the door. 

You watch the door for a moment even after she has closed it behind her. If only things were different. If only you could forget about the stalker, forget about the picture, about the team. If only you could enjoy a movie with Emily, maybe you would lean into her on the chair, maybe you would follow her into the bedroom. You hear Derek grumble again, and the fantasy is broken. 

You turn off the TV, giving up on trying to watch the movie you had only been barely paying attention to, and you stand up from the couch, too.

“Where are you going?” Derek asks the second you stand up.

“I’ve been sitting too long,” you say, flatly. “Just wanted to walk around a bit.” 

You move around the living room, and you can feel as Derek’s eyes bore into your every move. Much like Derek's, Emily’s space isn’t filled with many decorations, a few pictures here and there, but nothing to draw your interest, nothing to distract you. 

You move over to another part of the apartment, and Derek’s eyes finally fall away from you. You relax a bit as you approach a bookshelf. You run your fingers across the spines, some of them older, some new. You smile to yourself as you see a few cheesy romances and quickly pluck one off of the shelf. You move back over to the couch, finding the blanket Emily left for you and pulling it over yourself as you settle back onto the couch. Derek looks at you for a moment, clearly satisfied by what he finds, because he goes back to his notes. 

The book takes a moment to get into, but slowly you lose yourself in the pages. The shitty romance takes you away from your situation the buzzing in your head momentarily dulled. The only thing that pulls you from the pages is the soft snoring you eventually hear from the armchair. Derek has fallen asleep, his constant worrying clearly draining him as much as it had been draining you. 

Just as you start to read again, a movement catches your eye in the hallway. 

Emily’s silhouette is soft in the dim light, and you hear her chuckle as she looks over at Derek fast asleep. 

“It’s about time,” she says, and you can’t help but let out a soft laugh too. Her smile widens as she hears your laugh, and she moves over, settling into the couch next to you again, much closer than she had been earlier that night.

“You know this is the second time I have caught you stealing books,” she says, a small smirk on her face. 

“What can I say? I love the thrill,” you shoot back. Derek snores again, and you both look over to him. 

“You know, I don’t think I have ever seen him this worried,” Emily says, and you tilt your head looking at Derek’s sleeping form. Even in res,t his face looks tense, stressed. 

“I appreciate that he cares so much but…I’m suffocating here.” 

“I get it.” 

“I think he thinks that he is making something up to me by taking this so seriously,” you say. 

“What do you mean?” Emily’s eyes are curious, but you’re not sure yet if your past, your family, is something you want to share. But it’s Emily, and the way she is looking at you, the warmth you feel from her body next to yours, it makes you feel like you can tell her anything. 

“I was an accident, you know,” you say soflty. Emily is clearly confused about the direction of the conversation, but she doesn’t say anything, just sits and lets you talk. “Derek is 10 years older than me, Des is 12, Sarah is 13. My aunt told me that my parents thought I was their miracle. They had stopped trying long ago, but I showed up anyway. They wanted a boy, two girls, two boys, but when they found out I was a girl, they were just as happy.” 

Emily watches silently as she listens to you, a small smile on her face as she hears more about you and Derek's past. But by the way you’re talking, the way you’re holding yourself, she knows this happiness doesn’t last long. She moves closer to you on the couch. 

“Before I was born, my parents thought I was a miracle,” you continue. “After I was born, my siblings thought I was a miracle. But then Dad died a month later, and apparently, grieving while raising a newborn turns a miracle into a curse. Nobody had time for me, nobody wanted to deal with me, and they had this shared grief that brought them all closer and made me feel like an outsider.” 

“(Y/N)...” Emily starts to say, her voice soft, low, but you shake your head. 

“I don’t need pity.”

“This isn’t pity,” she says, with such conviction in her voice that you actually believe her. You look up, your eyes meeting hers, and her gaze doesn’t waver. She pulls one of your hands into both of hers, holding it there for a moment before she smiles again. “Come on.” 

You’re surprised by her sudden demand and the way she stands from the chair, pulling you with her. You don’t question it, just follow as you walk towards her bedroom. Your eyes wander around the room as you walk in, but you barely have time to look before Emily opens a sliding door to her balcony and you two step out into the cool night air. 

You shiver, and Emily moves back into the room for a second before bringing you out a light jacket of hers. She draps it around your shoulders and leans against the railing, eyes still locked on you. 

You take a deep breath, the cold air feeling both refreshing and burning in your lungs. The city is quiet, only the sound of a few passing cars below as background noise. You can’t see many of the stars, but it doesn’t matter. You find peace in the night sky anyway. 

“I know what it feels like to not fit in,” Emily eventually says, and you look over to her. “My mom was a diplomat. We constantly travelled and by the time I made friends we were in another country. And as an only child, the only consistent people in my life were adults.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say softly, and Emily shakes her head. 

“I’m not saying any of this for any reason other than to say that I get it…life is tough…families are harder and loneliness can be paralyzing. But that dork in there, he would move heaven and earth for you. I don’t know what happened when you were kids, I don’t know what it is that he feels like he needs to make up for…but I know Morgan. And I know that he adores you, even if he is being really obnoxious about it.”

You can’t help but laugh, and she joins you. As the laughter dies down, you look back at Emily. 

“Don’t let any of this take that away, ok?” she says. 

“What?” 

“That laugh, the real you. The you I got to see when we went to breakfast. The you that has been beaten down by this son of a bitch. Don’t let him take away that shine,” she says. Your breath catches in your chest at her tone of voice. At how sure she sounds and how she looks into your eyes to let you know that she means it. 

“I’m just tired,” you admit. “Tired of feeling like I have to watch over my back. Tired of feeling like there’s nobody that I can run to. Like I’m stuck in a boxing ring with a guy I can’t even see.” 

“Hey,” Emily says, her hand reaching up to brush away a tear you didn’t even realize had fallen. “We’re here. The team, Derek, Me…” Her hand lingers on your face. 

Maybe it’s the moonlight, maybe it’s Emily’s clothes on your body, her hand on your face. Maybe it’s the reassuring words, the touches, her smile. Maybe it’s your exhaustion, the weight of the last year crashing down on you all at once. Or maybe it’s just pure attraction. 

You’re not sure what it is, but the next thing you know, you’re leaning into Emily as if pulled by some invisible force. Your eyes drift closed as your lips meet hers in a soft, almost hesitant kiss. She kisses you back, her hand settling on your jaw, holding you close. It’s not desperate, not rushed, not anything other than a steady reassurance, a calm in the storm. A comfort. 

When you finally pull away, neither of you speaks. Emily’s thumb rubs gently across your cheek, and you close your eyes as you lean into her. 

“I’m sorry,” you start to say. “That was…” 

“Don’t apologize,” Emily says, her voice soft but firm, gently using the hand that’s on your jaw to lift your eyes to her. She gently lets go, taking a small step back. The chill of the night hits you again, and you're suddenly missing her warmth. 

“We should try and get some rest. Derek's asleep. Guess that means you get the guest room,” she says with a wink. 

You smile, following Emily as she walks back inside, your heart a little steadier than before.

Chapter Text

You wake up, stretching the ache out of your muscles and wiping the sleep out of your eyes. You’re in bed…but it’s not your bed. You wipe your eyes again, your head still fuzzy, and it takes a moment for you to get your bearings. You sit up, and it’s only when you notice the clothes on your body that you remember everything. 

The stalker, coming to DC, staying with Derek, staying with Emily, the kiss…

You kissed her. She kissed you back. Your brother’s friend. Your brother’s partner. You kissed her, and she kissed you back, and something about that kiss, something about last night, something about Emily, settled you. Made you feel so safe that you slept the best you had in months. 

You throw the covers off of your body and move to the door, schooling the smile off of your face as you grab the handle. No matter how natural being with Emily felt, no matter how engrained the kiss is in your mind, it wasn’t supposed to happen. And you definitely couldn’t let Derek know that anything was different.

You pull the door open, taking a deep breath as you try to maintain your neutral expression, but you’re surprised when you walk into the living room. Nobody is there. No journal, no papers, no brother. Was this all some sort of dream?

“Good Morning,” you hear, and you turn around to see Emily standing in the kitchen fully dressed and ready for the day as she fixes herself a cup of coffee. Your heart jumps when you see her. Definitely not a dream. 

“Good morning,” you say back as you start to walk over to her. “Where’s…” 

“On a walk,” she says, interrupting you, already knowing what you're going to ask. 

“A walk?” you question, eyebrows furrowed. Derek Morgan doesn’t take walks, he stews and festers. 

“When he woke up, he was angry that we had let him fall asleep and that you hadn’t stayed in the living room with him,” Emily says. “I wanted you to have a peaceful morning, so I sent him on a walk.” You can’t help the small smile that forms on your face. 

“And he listened?” You walk over and lean against the counter next to Emily. “How did you manage that?” She laughs. 

“Have you met me?” she asks as she turns to face you, handing you the cup of coffee that she had been making. You look down at it, confused for a moment. “What?” she asks. 

“I thought you were making this for yourself,” you say, looking back up at her. She smiles and shrugs. 

“I was, but then you woke up, so now it’s for you.” You still stand there for a moment, a matching smile on your face.

“Don’t worry,” she continues in a teasing tone. “I haven’t put my lips on it or anything. Not that it would matter…” 

You’re glad you hadn’t taken a sip of the coffee yet, or else you probably would’ve choked at her comment. Her light giggle and the smirk on her face awake the butterflies in your stomach. The kiss hadn’t been a dream, this morning wasn’t a dream, and from Emily’s joking comment, it obviously wasn’t anything that she regretted. 

“I was actually thinking about that…” you start to say, but just as you do, you hear the front door open and close. With a frustrated sigh, you take a step away from Emily and bring the cup of coffee to your lips as Derek walks in. 

Emily, on the other hand, doesn’t retreat as quickly. Her eyes watch you for another moment before she finally looks away. 

“Oh, good. You’re awake,” Derek says as he sees you. He is also dressed for the day, leather jacket around his shoulders, and you start to wonder just how long you slept. “You guys ready to go?” 

“I just woke up,” you say to him, taking another long sip of the coffee. 

“Well, if you had stayed in the living room like I asked, you would’ve woken up on time,” he says, a bite to his voice despite the “walk” he supposedly just went on. You put the coffee down, about to say something back to him when Emily places a hand on your waist, stilling all movements and thoughts. 

“Come on, I’ll get you some clothes, and then we can go,” she says, using her hand to guide you towards her bedroom. As you walk in, she closes the door behind you two, and her hand finally drops away from your waist. 

“What was that?” you ask as she moves to the closet. 

“What was what?” 

“That out there you…touched me,” you say, practically still feeling her hand on your body. 

“I’m a touchy person,” she says like it’s obvious.

“But in front of Derek? What if he sees us acting differently? What if he figures something out? What if…” Your words are cut off when a pair of pants flies at your face. 

“(Y/N), what’s different?” Emily asks. “You haven’t noticed how touchy I’ve been with you the entire time that you’ve been here?”

“No…” you say, trying to think. “No, I haven't.”

Emily smiles again, walking over with a shirt to match the pants. She places a hand on your waist again and pulls you close, your breath catching as you look at her, close enough to count every eyelash. She opens her mouth to say something, but before she can…

“Guys, hurry up!” Derek’s voice calls from the other room. Emily huffs and drops her head before looking back up to you again, her eyes soft.

“We’ll talk later, ok?” She says. You nod, desperately wanting to talk now, wanting to pull her close again, wanting to kiss her and feel safe with her again. But you can’t. You shouldn’t. 

She takes a step back towards the door, and you watch as she walks out of the bedroom, leaving you alone to get dressed in her clothes. 

- - - - - - 

You keep your distance from Emily as you walk into the bullpen, Derek unintentionally (or maybe intentionally) acting as a wall between you two. He starts to walk towards the conference room, getting ready to resume right where you all had left off last night, but you don’t follow him, and he immediately turns around to you. 

“What’s going on?” he asks. 

“Can I chill with Garcia in her office today? I’m in the building. You guys can come get me if you need me, but…do I have to be in there while you guys do your thing?” 

“(Y/N), we’re doing this for you. We’re trying to find this guy for you, and you just want to not be involved?” You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at him. 

“That’s not what I said. I’ve just been living with this for a year. I want an hour where I can forget about it.” 

“Morgan, she’s fine,” Emily says as she overhears you two. “She’s an adult, so really she can do whatever she wants, and besides, she’s in the building. You know she’s safe; she’s a few feet away if we need her.” 

You can tell that he wants to say no, that he wants to keep you by his side in his line of sight at all times, but he relents. 

“Don’t leave her office,” he says, his voice firm. “I mean it (Y/N).” 

“Ye,s boss,” you say, before turning on your heels and quickly walking to Garcia’s office before he can change his mind. When you get there, knock gently on the open door. Garcia turns around with a smile, and she gets out of her chair when she sees that it’s you.  

“Oh, my doll,” she says, pulling you into a hug. “I cannot even lie to you. I was so worried last night and so thankful that you had the best team ever watching over you.” 

“I’m ok, Garcia,” you say as she pulls back from the hug. “Thank you.”

As she pulls back and looks at you, her eyebrows raise, and somehow, her smile gets wider than it was before. You look down examining yourself, wondering what could have possibly prompted this reaction. 

“Emily’s clothes?” she questions. You look up at her, partially concerned, partially impressed. 

“Do you know every item that she has in her closet?” 

“Yes,” Garcia responds flatly, in a way that makes you snort a laugh. “What’s important right now, though, is why are you wearing them.” 

“Because my bag is at Derek’s apartment, and officially off limits.” She raises an eyebrow, a knowing and suspicious look still on her face. She shoots you a wink before moving back over to her chair. 

“They look good on you,” she says as she sits down. “ She looks good on you.”

“What?” you say, moving over to sit in the chair next to her. 

“I may not be a profiler, gumdrop, but I see the way that she looks at you, and I know that look.” She holds up a finger and points it towards your face. “I know this look, too. That I just got caught face, mhm.” 

“Garcia, it’s nothing,” you try to say, but there’s no real conviction behind it. You don’t really mean it, and Garcia knows it. 

“Well, if that’s nothing, then I want it because, honey, this is the most relaxed I’ve seen you the whole time I’ve known you.” 

“You mean the last three days?” you question, and Garcia nods. 

“Yes, exactly.” 

- - - - - - - 

Emily joins you two not much later when she comes in to ask Garcia to look something up. Garcia gives you a knowing look when she does which makes you smile, but you quickly push it away. You had to focus. You were here to catch a stalker, not fall in love. 

You’re not sure what Emily asks her, or what Garcia is doing, but she nods and starts to type something into the computer in front of her. Emily looks over to you and smiles, and your heart does a flip. Just being in the same room as her takes you back to last night, back to that kiss. 

As Garcia continues to work, Emily walks closer to you and leans against the wall next to your chair. 

“Doing alright in here?” she asks, trying to seem casual but being anything but. 

“Yeah,” you say with a nod and a stifled laugh. “Yeah, we’re doing alright in here. How are things going in there?” 

“Making some good leads, I think,” she says. 

“We might be making some leads in here, too, but I’m not sure they are good ones,” Garcia says softly, but it’s loud enough to draw both of your attention. 

You look over and see Garcia staring at something on the computer in front of her, her hands still on the keypad and eyebrows furrowed in concern. 

“Garcia…” Emily questions, pushing herself off the wall. “What is it?” she asks.

Garcia hesitates, glancing between Emily and the screen in front of her before her eyes land on you. 

“Sugarplum…” she says, carefully, trying not to show the suspicion and concern in her voice, but you can hear it. “Who is Harvery Graham?”

A wave of ice shoots through your veins, and you suddenly feel a little sick. You clench and unclench your hands, trying to get your brain to work, to say something. 

“What?” is all you can get out, but your voice is too sharp, too quick. This gets Emily’s attention even more, and within a moment, she is behind Garcia, looking over her shoulder at whatever is on that screen. 

“(Y/N)...” Emily says, her voice low. She knows you’re lying. They both know you’re lying. Still, you can’t bring yourself to tell the truth, to sit in front of Derek’s friends, his teammates, and tell them what you know. 

“I don’t know that name,” you say, trying to look at Emily, but you can’t look in her eyes. You can barely look in her direction. 

“He sure seems to know you,” Garcia says. Finally, she turns the computer screen towards you, and you can see what has her so shocked. “I caught his name when I was going through your text messages, but I didn’t pay it any mind until I found it again in your financial transactions…” 

Your hands start to feel numb, and your ears ring as the screen changes again, now highlighting every single deposit showing up on your bank statement with the name Harvery Garaham. 

“(Y/N),” Emily says, her voice gentle. “We need to know who he is to you.”

“He’s nobody,” you say. “Really.” 

Your leg starts to bounce up and down, and you can feel your heart beating in your chest. You finally look over to Emily, and she must see something in your eyes because she gives you a small nod before looking back towards Garcia. 

“I hate to ask this, Garcia,” she starts to say, but the blonde has already picked up on it.

“No problem,” she says, standing up and grabbing her laptop. “I’ll go tell the rest of the team.” Emily shoots her a thank you before taking her seat and moving it closer, so she’s sitting directly in front of you. 

As the door clicks shut behind Garcia, Emily reaches a hand out to steady your bouncing leg. She squeezes just above your knee, before her thumb starts to trace circles along your pantleg.

“I know this is hard, but we need full disclosure,” Emily says, her voice soft, eyes reassuring. “We need to know that this guy isn’t involved. That he’s not hurting you.” 

“He isn’t,” you say, but your voice is barely above a whisper. 

“How are you so sure?” she asks, and you drop your gaze. She doesn’t let up, though. She reaches over, using her free hand to lift your chin to look at her again. “(Y/N), I need to know.” 

“You can’t tell Derek,” you say after a moment, your voice wavering slightly. Emily sighs. 

“If this guy has something to do with this, I have to,” she says, her voice apologetic. “But for right now, it’s just you and me, okay? Who is Harvery Graham?” 

You close your eyes, focusing on your breathing, focusing on Emily’s touch, her warmth. It’s a long moment before you finally start to speak again, telling a secret you thought you wouldn’t have to face for a while. 

“He’s my dad.” 

Emily frowns and leans back a bit, confusion written all over her face. You can practically see the gears turning in her head as she tries to make sure that she heard you right. 

“Youe dad…” she repeats. “But you said that…” 

“Hank isn’t my dad,” you continue, blurting out the full truth before you chicken out. “He’s Derek’s dad, he’s my sisters' dad but…Hank Morgan isn’t my biological father.” 

“Ok” Emily says, trying to process the information without freaking you out in any way. “Ok, can you explain it to me? Does Derek know? What…just start from the beginning, please.” 

Your head drops down to stare at your lap as you bite your bottom lip. Emily moves her chair a hair closer, still silently waiting for you to say something. 

“When I was in high school,” you start to say. “That’s when I really felt like things were off. Derek had finally moved out for good and settled in DC, and Des and Sarah were in their 30s, their own families to care about. I was in the house with my mom alone, and I still felt like an outsider. Almost like she resented me just for existing. I started asking her questions, and she always brushed me off, but I could tell she was hiding something. For some reason, she treated me so differently than her other kids.” 

Emily’s thumb still moves soothingly in circles on your leg as you start to feel more comfortable in her presence. The words flowing a bit more freely. 

“So, I pushed her and questioned her until she cracked. Told me everything. Hank Morgan wasn’t my biological dad. She had an affair, and I was the result, and then he died, leaving her with a kid that she regretting and the knowledge that one of the last things she had done for her husband was lie to him.” You let out a bitter laugh. “And the reason I never fit into the family is because I was never supposed to be a part of it.” 

“(Y/N),” Emily says, her voice and expression softening even more. You shake your head. If you stop now, you’ll never finish. 

“She told me his name, and I didn’t do anything with it for the longest time, just sitting on this name this person who I knew was a part of making me. And then I moved to Connecticut, and it was new, and Yale was overwhelming, so I reached out…turns out he lives in New York now.” 

“And you stayed in contact?” Emily asks, and you nod. 

“He knew about me the whole time. He had apparently tried to reach out after Hank died, but my mom told him to leave us alone. He felt bad, still feels bad, so he sends me money from time to time, and when he gets a chance, we will meet up.” 

“And I take it nobody knows?” Emily asks. You shake your head. She takes a deep breath, her hand finally leaving your leg as she runs it across her face. “What all have you told him?” 

“What?” you ask, finally looking up and seeing the expression on Emily’s face. You can tell she’s trying to keep it neutral, trying to stay calm, but she’s failing miserably. You can see the anxiousness in her eyes, in the wrinkles that have formed on her forehead. 

“When you’ve talked to him. What all have you told him? How much of your life does he know?” She asks. 

“I…I don’t,” you stutter out, not sure how to answer the question. 

“Does he know about Derek?” Emily specifies. “Where he works, where he lives.” 

Your hands are tingling again, and you feel lightheaded putting the pieces together as Emily’s questions register in your brain. 

“He didn’t…Emily, he has nothing to do with this.” 

“Does he know, (Y/N)?” she asks again now looking into your eyes. You can feel the emotion prickling in the back of your eyes and throat. “If you’ve told him where Morgan lives, what he does, where he works, that could explain how the stalker knew where you would be before you did. (Y/N) please, just be honest.” 

“Yes,” you say with a short nod, a single tear falling. You quickly wipe it away. “I’ve told him where Morgan lives, he knows.” Another deep sigh is pulled from Emily as she rests her face in her hands. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, but she looks up and shakes her head. 

“Hey. Hey, it’s ok,” she stands, pulling you with her, wrapping her arms around you in a tight hug. “You can’t beat yourself up (Y/N). You didn’t do anything wrong.” You close your eyes, burying your face in Emily’s shoulder as her hand runs comfortingly across your back. “But I need to tell the team.” 

You freeze in her arms. 

“You can’t! Emily Derek can’t know. He’s going to freak I didn’t tell him.”

“He won’t,” Emily says soothingly, her hand still caressing your back. “He might be upset, but making sure you’re safe is ten times as important as making sure Morgan’s feelings don’t get hurt.”

She pulls back just enough to look you in the eye, and she brings a hand up to wipe away a few stray tears. 

“We have to tell the rest of the team,” she says again. “I’ll be there with you, but they need to know. Okay?” 

She’s right, you know that she’s right, anyone could tell that she is right. But god, this was going to be hard. 

Just then, the door bursts open so much so that it flies back and hits the wall behind it. You and Emily jump apart as Derek storms in. He doesn’t pay you any mind instead, he moves over to Emily, getting as close to her as physically possible. He wants to shove her, wants to grab her and shake her, you can tell by the way he has his fists balled as his sides. But Emily doesn’t flinch. 

“Morgan,” Hotch yells as the team comes in behind him, but he doesn’t hear or see anything besides Emily. 

“You kissed my fucking sister!?!?”

Chapter Text

“Morgan,” this time it’s Rossi trying to get his attention.

His voice is calm and steady but laced with authority that you hadn’t expected. He steps forward, inserting himself between Derek and Emily as the rest of the team watches, unsure of how or if they should intervene. The interruption doesn’t stop Derek, though. 

“Was this your plan?” he asks, his chest rising and falling with anger. “I tell you she’s off limits, and you take that as a challenge?” Emily doesn’t flinch, barely even blinks. 

“Is that why you wanted her to stay at your apartment yesterday?” he continues. “So you could have your way with her?” That earns a couple of gasps from the rest of the team, and Rossi places his hand on Derek’s chest. 

“Ok, let’s take a walk,” Rossi says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

He pats Derek’s shoulder in an almost friendly gesture, but there’s a tenseness to his motions that Derek doesn’t resist. Derek doesn’t do much to fight back, but the look he shoots Emily as Rossi walks him out is murderous. 

Silence settles over the room like a thick fog, and you can’t help but turn back to Emily. You want to move towards her, to say something, do something, but you're frozen. You just watch as she takes a slow, measured breath and shifts her focus to the rest of the team still standing near the door. 

“What happened?” she asks, her voice steady. They all share a look, wordlessly deciding who is going to speak up first.

“The stalker sent Morgan a picture,” JJ eventually says. “It’s of you and (Y/N) standing on your balcony…kissing.” 

Emily doesn’t respond, at least not outwardly. If you were a profiler, you would be able to read her. But you can’t. You don’t know what she’s thinking or feeling, and for some reason, that makes you so much more anxious. 

“The first thing I did was run it through the program on my laptop that can tell me if it’s been tampered with,” Garcia chimes in, hoping to soften the blow. “I thought it make have been fake but…everything came back clean. It was the original.” 

“He must have been watching you,” Reid continues, shifting his focus to you. “Or at some point, he figured out where you were going. He might have a tracker of some sort on you, maybe your phone, your laptop…” 

A shiver runs through your spine at the thought of him tracking you. Of him knowing everywhere you were, everywhere you went. You feel sick at the thought. Emily sighs, running a hand through her hair. 

“Did it come from the same number as the pictures sent to (Y/N)?” Emily asks, already shifting gears, professionalism dripping from her words and her posture. Garcia shakes her head.

“Different number, but I haven’t gotten the chance to trace the IP addresses yet,” she says. “It came through while I was telling them about Harvey, and we barely had time to do anything before Morgan was out of his chair and headed over here.” 

“We actually have some more information about Harvey,” Emily says.

Hotch picks up on her tone, equally as eager to shift focus, and nods, turning on his heels and walking out of Garcia’s office. Emily doesn’t even spare you a glance as she walks out, too, Reid following close behind. 

But Garcia and JJ linger. 

JJ walks over to you and places a gentle hand on your arm. You look over at her, and she gives you a small smile as she leads you to follow the others. Garcia joins, moving to your other side for another layer of support. 

As you walk towards the conference room your eyes scan the bullpen, the halls, everywhere you can possibly see. But Derek and Rossi are no where to be found. A small blessing. 

As you walk into the conference room, you see on the big screen that Gariai had already started looking into Harvey. Where he works, where he lives, who he knows, and every single time he has sent you money. 

Garcia moves from your side to turn the TV off before sitting down at the conference table, joining Reid and Hotch. JJ doesn’t move far, standing near you as Emily walks over. You glance up and meet her eye, but you don’t see the reassurance you usually find there. She is still stoic, still guarded from the argument with Derek.

“(Y/N),” Emily says, prompting. The team is watching, waiting, and you take another breath before repeating the same information you told Emily. 

“My mom had an affair,” you say, dropping your gaze to the floor, unable to risk meeting anybody’s eye. “Hank Morgan isn’t my biological father, Harvey Graham is. I didn’t know until high school, and I didn’t meet Harvey until about a year and a half ago. He sends me money as an apology for notb fighting harder to  be in my life growing up.” There is a long weighted silen e before anybody speak. 

“How often do you communicate with him?” Hotch asks. 

“Not often,” you admit. “We don’t text or call much be we try tol meet up maybe once a month.” 

“Why are we just now learning about this?” Hotch presses. You look up and meet his sharp gaze peircing and unwavering, before you look away again. 

“I didn’t want Derek to know,” you say, shifting uncomfortably. “I didn’t think it was a big deal…I didn’t think…” 

“He’s not the stalker,” Garcia interjects, interrupting your stuttering. Every head turns to her. “His phone, computer, everything is still pinging in New York.” 

“He could still be connected,” Reid says, a thoughtful look on his face as he slides closer to Garcia. “Garcia pull up the first time (Y/N) ever contacted Harvey…ok and now based on the journal the first gift (Y/N) got from the stalker was only two months after that.” He gets up and moves over to the whiteboard in the corner of the room to write down this new information.  “I am not saying that he is involved, but the timeline is suspicious.” 

“Who else knows about your connection with him?” Hotch asks. 

“I… I don’t…” you stammer.

“Think,” Hotch says, standing out of his seat as well. “Who else knows that Harvey Graham is your father?”

“I never told anybody,” you say, shaking your head. “Just me and my mom.” 

“Just because you kept it to yourself, doesn’t mean that he did,” Hotch says, crossing his arms over his chest. “JJ, see if you can get a hold of him. We need to talk to Mr Graham. Reid, Garcia, stay in here, update Morgan and Rossi when they get back.” They nod as Hotch’s gaze settles on Emily. “My office.” 

Emily tenses a bit at the command, but she doesn’t argue. Still stoic, still professional, you don’t know this Emily at all. She follows Hotch out of the door, and with one last gentle touch on your shoulder, JJ follows shortly after. 

You stand there frozen for a moment. The weight of everything settles in your chest. Reid is still writing something on the whiteboard, Garcia gazing up at you. You feel a tear fall onto your cheek, and a moment later, Garcia pulls you into a hug. You let her, leaning your head onto her shoulder as she gently rocks you in her arms.

- - - - - - 

Emily doesn’t sit down as she enters the room. Neither does Hotch. They both know why they are in here. They both know what needs to be discussed, what needs to happen. Emily can’t let herself sit down for that. Can’t let herself relax in the slightest. 

“Sir, I…” Hotch holds up his hand, eyes closed as he runs a hand over his face. 

“We knew he was watching,” Hotch finally says. “We just didn’t know how closely, and now we do. That is your only saving grace, Emily.” 

“I made a mistake,” Emily admits. “But…”

“No, Prentiss, listen,” Hotch says, his voice still too calm, too steady. “This isn’t just a lapse of judgment, this is an ethical violation that the bureau can and will come down on both you and the BAU for.” 

“I know.”

“If this case goes south, I will have no choice but to share everything I know with Strauss,” he continues. “And we will have to answer for any mistakes made, not only to the brass but to (Y/N).” Emily’s hands itch at her sides at his words, balling and unballing from a fist.

“I know,”  she says again. Hotch lets the silence stretch for a moment still watching, still analyzing. 

“Be honest with me,” he says, his eyes unwavering. “Is this something you intend to continue?” 

No, that should’ve been her answer. No hesitation. She should’ve denied any desire to continue things with (Y/N), but she couldn’t. She couldn’t lie about what she wanted. About how much she had already grown to care for her. 

“I don’t know.” 

Hotch nods once, dropping his arms and sitting down behind his desk as if that’s the answer he had been expecting. 

“He’s likely going to escalate,” he says. “And that’s how we find him”. 

“(Y/N) is going to be in more danger,” Emily says. 

“Then it’s a good thing she has two agents who would do anything in their power to protect her,” Hotch says, giving her a knowing look. 

Her mistake put (Y/N) in more danger. But if they play this right, if they could anticipate the escalation, calculate his next move, it may be what finally brings him down. What finally allows (Y/N) to be free of this, to feel safe.

“I would never let anything happen to her.”

- - - - - - 

Derek paces the length of the hallway, tension radiating off of him in waves. His fists are clenched, his jaw set tight, and Rossi watches, wondering how much longer until he chips a tooth or wears a hole into the floor. 

He doesn’t say anything at first, just watches and waits. He knows how Morgan can get, he’s seen it too many times to count. This isn’t the first time a case has hit a bit too close to home. But this time, it’s his sister. His blood. And it involves Emily. His second family.

Finally, Morgan stops pacing. He’s facing the wall, his back to Rossi, and for a moment, Rossi is worried that he’s going to punch it. But he doesn’t. He just lets out a huff and rolls his shoulders before turning back around to Rossi, eyes burning. 

“Go ahead, kid,” Rossi says. “Say whatever you need to say. Let it out on me.” 

“We’re supposed to be protecting her, Rossi,” Morgan says with a sharp exhale. “We are supposed to be focusing on keeping her safe.” 

“You don’t feel like the whole team is invested in (Y/N)’s safety?” Rossi asks evenly, and Morgan lets out a bitter laugh. 

“Is that a joke?” 

“This is about Prentiss,” Rossi states.

“Damn right this is about Prentiss!” Morgan’s voice rises, the anger from moments before returning twofold. “She’s my partner, man! She’s supposed to communicate things with me. She’s supposed to have her head in the game. She’s supposed to be on my team. She’s not supposed to be…She’s not supposed to be…” Morgan stops, running a hand over his face. 

“Kissing your sister?” Rossi fills in the blank, and Morgan’s jaw clenches. 

“No,” he says sharply. “She’s not supposed to be kissing my fucking sister. She’s supposed to be protecting her.” Rossi raises an eyebrow. 

“You don’t think she can do both?”

“No.” 

“She can’t protect (Y/N) while also caring for her?”

“No!”

“But don’t you?” Rossi questions, and Morgan is about to shoot back an answer but he pauses, as he hears Rossi’s words. 

“What?” Rossi shrugs. 

“You care about (Y/N). She’s your baby sister, how can you not? But you still trust yourself to be on this case. You still trust yourself to look out for her best interest and to keep her safe. How is Emily different?” Morgan shakes his head. 

“It just is, Rossi.” 

“How?” Rossi asks, and Morgan huffs again. Clearly still angry, but at a loss for words. 

“That’s not what this is about, is it?” Rossi asks, already knowing the answer. Morgan looks at him sharply, but it doesn’t stop Rossi. “This isn’t about Emily’s impaired judgment. If she was kissing any other victim, you wouldn’t care, would you…So what is it about?”

Morgan’s jaw tightens. Because he knows Rossi is right. Emily was his partner, hell if it was any other victim, any other situation he probably would have defended her. 

But this isn’t any other case. And it’s not any other victim. This is (Y/N). 

And he saw the way Emily interacted with (Y/N). Saw the way she touched her, the way she looked at her. The softness in her eyes. His stomach turned every time he thought about it because he has seen that look before. 

It’s the same way he’s looked at (Y/N) her whole life.

“She’s a kid, Rossi,” he finally mutters. 

“From what I’ve seen, she’s a very mature woman,” Rossi says gently. “And if she takes after her brother, she’s very smart woman too. Who has been making her own decisions for years.” 

“That doesn’t mean she always makes the right choices.” Rossi hums and nods in understanding. 

“And Emily is a wrong choice?” 

“She…” Morgan starts to say, but he struggles, and Rossi sees a flicker of doubt in his eyes. 

“Because from what I know about Emily,” Rossi continues, taking a few steps towards Morgan. “She is kind and respectful. She’s loyal, and she never does anything halfway. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her give up. And I know you know that too.” 

Morgan shakes his head. He knows what Rossi is saying. He gets it, he understands, but if Rossi is right, if Emily isn’t the problem, then why the hell did he hate it so much? 

“Look, Derek, I get it,” Rossi continues. “You’ve looked after her your whole life. You’ve been like a father to her. And with everything going on, you feel like you’re losing control. You’ve always been the person she can count on, the one she relies on. Now you see someone potentially trying to fill that spot…it’s hard.” 

Morgan lets out a slow, heavy breath. This isn’t just hard, this is terrifying. 

“I’m not telling you to not be upset,” Rossi adds. “It was a bad move on Emily’s part, and it’s going to make things a hell of a lot harder for us. But right now, you need to rank your priorities. Do you want to be the protective big brother, coming in between this thing with (Y/N) and Prentiss? Or do you want to find the son of a bitch that’s stalking your baby sister?” 

Morgan lets out another breath, the tension in his shoulders slowly easing as he looks back at Rossi. 

“We’re going to find him, but we don’t do that by picking fights with our team, no matter how in the wrong they are.” 

“You think I don’t know that?” Morgan asks, and Rossi lets out a light chuckle at his attmept at holding onto the anger. 

“I think you know a lot. I just think sometimes you need someone else to remind you.” Rossi pats him on the back. “Now lets go catch this jagoff”

Chapter Text

Emily walks into the room with a new vigor after her talk with Hotch. He had stayed in the office to tie up any loose ends and beat Strauss to any punches she might throw, but Emily knew where she needed to be. She scans the space as she walks into the room, noticing JJ’s absence only momentarily before she sees you. 

Reid and Garcia are sitting next to each other, Reid rambling off his theories while Garcia’s fingers fly over her keyboard, but you stand to the side, arms wrapped around yourself in comfort. You’ve pulled away, retreating into yourself and she can’t help but feel partially guilty for the way she brushed you off moments ago after the team had found out about the picture. 

She doesn’t hesitate before she crosses the room. Not caring that there’s a possibility you want to be alone, not caring that Reid and Garcia are in the room, not caring about the possible implications of continuing whatever there is between you. She just wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you into her arms. 

For a moment, you are stunned. You had been so in your head you hadn’t even realized that she had come back. But it doesn’t take long for you to hug her back, your arms resting around her neck as you bury your face into her shoulder. This isn’t like the last hug she gave you, which seems so long ago but was probably less than an hour. Something has changed. Something unspoken has shifted between you two and you can’t help but pull Emily closer at the realization. 

It seems so natural, so comfortable for Emily to hold you, that it almost brings tears back to your eyes. Your body relaxes into Emily’s arms as if she is the only thing keeping you standing, and she mumbles soothing words.

You’re not sure how long the moment stretches, how long the two of you are standing there in silence, just holding each other, being together. But the moment is broken when the door opens again. 

Derek and Rossi step into the room, their eyes immediately falling on you and Emily. Emily pulls away slightly, and you can feel her tense as she expects to be yelled at again. Hell, maybe this time, Derek might actually hit her. But neither happen. Instead Derek's gaze shifts from your eyes to hers, and whatever shift you had felt must be visible because all he does is give Emily a short nod. Of acceptance? Approval? 

You’re not sure, but Emily must have understood because her arm stays around you, and she pulls you further into her side. You can practically feel the tension ease, and you lean into Emily, taking this moment to just be. 

“I got a hold of Harvey,” JJ says as she walks back into the room, her phone still in hand. “He said he can hop on a plane, be here in two hours.” Derek crosses his arms, looking at JJ. 

“Did we find out who this guy is?” he asks, before turning and looking at you. “Is he connected to this?” 

Everyone else's gaze follows his and lands on you. You knew you would have to explain it to him, still, it feels impossible. There’s a frog stuck in your throat and so many butterflies in your stomach you might take flight. 

“(Y/N)?” he questions, his voice low, carrying that all too familiar protective edge. 

You swallow hard, trying to dislodge whatever is keeping you from speaking, but then Emily’s hand squeezes your waist gently, and you draw in a slow breath.

You open your mouth, but before you can answer, a shrill ring makes you jump. It’s your phone, in your back pocket but you could’ve sworn you turned the ringer off. As you pull it out, Emily looks over your shoulder, and her grip on your waist gets tighter as she sees the same thing you see.

Unknown number. 

“Garcia,” Emily says, never letting go of you. 

“Already on it,” the blonde says, eyes focused on whatever is on the laptop in front of her. “You’ll have to keep him on the line, for as long as possible, buttercup.” 

“What do I do?” you ask, looking up at Emily, the phone still ringing, causing your hand to tremble. “What do I say? I don’t usually answer his calls…I don’t...” 

Morgan is next to you before you know it, standing on the opposite side of Emily, hand resting on your arm. 

“It’s ok, we’re right here,” he says, gently. “We’ll help you through it. Just answer before we lose him.” 

You nod, and with another breath, you answer the phone. But before you can get anything out, before you can even say hello, his voice cuts through, raw and full of rage. 

“YOU THINK YOU CAN GET AWAY WITH THIS? YOU THINK YOU CAN BE A SLUT AND THEY WILL JUST PROTECT YOU. WELL THINK AGAIN (Y/N) BECAUSE YOU JUST FUCKED UP!” 

You freeze, your blood running cold. You don’t know what to say, what to do, and before Morgan or Emily can give you any tips, help you at all, the line goes dead. 

“Damn it!” Morgan says. “Garcia anything?” 

“I tried,” she says, shaking her head as she still types into the computer. “I tried, I’m sorry, he was barely on the line for ten seconds, I couldn’t…I couldn’t get anything.” 

Another ring fills the room, but it’s not your phone this time. It’s Emily’s. She reluctantly lets go of you to pull out her phone but stays close. 

“Unknown,” she says, looking at Garcia. 

“Looks like he’s giving us a second chance,” Rossi says, as Emily puts the phone down on the conference table and answers it. 

“This is SSA Prentiss,” she says, and there is silence for a moment before he says anything. 

“You’re good at your job, Emily.” His voice is calmer than it was before, but something about it makes your skin crawl. It’s not a voice you’ve heard before, at least not one you’ve heard enough to recognize. 

“Who is this?” Emily asks, but he ignores her. 

“But you made a mistake…you got too close.” 

He seems almost happy. He’s taunting her. He’s playing a game with you, with Derek, with Emily, and the prize at the end is you. 

“Too close to (Y/N)?” Emily asks, not shaken by his giddiness. 

“Don’t play with me, Agent Prentiss. The FBI thinks that they can do anything they want, especially the BAU, but (Y/N) knows what she needs to do. And I’ll be damned if I let you guys get in the way.” 

The call goes dead and everyone immediately looks to Garcia. 

“Babygirl, tell me you got something that time, please,” Morgan says, moving from next to you to stand behind her. 

“I got it!” she says. “I got it. He’s calling from an address not far from here, it's a motel. I’m sending the address to you guys right now.” 

Morgan doesn’t hesitate, he is already pulling out his phone and walking out the door before you can even move again. Rossi follows after him, and Reid jumps up from his chair a moment later. You follow, your feet moving before you can even think, but Emily moves in front of you, placing her hands on your arms. 

“(Y/N)...” she says, her voice soft, trying to get your attention, her eyes searching for yours. 

“I didn’t tell him…he doesn’t know…” 

“(Y/N),” Emily says again, her voice firm but still soft. “We can tell him about Harvey later. Right now, they are going to find the guy who has been harassing you. They are going to get him.” 

Her words are reassuring but her voice sounds like it’s underwater. You’re still shaken up from the phone call and the thought that they could be going to find your stalker right now. What’s going to happen if he’s still there? If they do find him? If they arrest him, will this all just be over? Will Morgan even need to know about Harvey? Or have things already changed so much…

“Hey,” Emily says, her hand now on your face. You lift your eyes and finally look at hers. “Are you ok?” You nod, your mind still moving too fast to form words. Emily sighs. 

“Come on,” she says softly, grabbing your hand. “I want to show you something.”

- - - - - - 

Morgan is out of the car before Rossi can even shift into park. It’s a rundown motel, nothing fancy or special. Exactly the type of place that lets you pay in cash and cares more about discretion than keeping track of who comes and who goes.

His hand rests on his gun, held by his side as he moves through the front door. He doesn’t even know who this stalker is. Isn't sure that he would be able to tell if he walks past the guy right now. But at a shitty motel in the middle of the day there aren’t many people to choose from. Actually, there’s nobody, besides the person standing behind the front desk.

“We need information about someone staying here,” He demands as he steps up to the desk, but the guy standing behind it doesn't even look up, not phased by the presence of FBI. 

“Got a warrant?” he asks, his voice almost bored. Morgan is about to give the guy a piece of his mind when Rossi and Reid catch up. 

“Sorry to bother you, sir,” Rossi slides in smoothly. “We believe that someone staying here has connections to an ongoing case. We were wondering if you could help us out.” The guy behind the desk looks between the three of them and rolls his eyes. 

“No warrant, no information.”

Morgan huffs sharply and turns on his heels. If the guy wasn’t going to help, then he was going to do what he needed to by himself. He moves out of the main office and out towards the motel rooms. He glances behind him to see Reid following and Rossi standing by the desk. He doesn’t know if he’s stalling or convincing the man. Either one works for him. 

He follows the exact pin that Garcia had sent him and ends up in front of the room. His grip tightens on his gun, and he clenches his jaw, taking a deep breath through his nose. The person they have been looking for, the one who has made his baby sister's life a living hell, could be behind that door. He isn't sure if he has the self-control not to kill him.

“Morgan, are you sure we shouldn’t…”

Reid’s words are interrupted by the crack of Morgan's boot hitting just above the handle of the door. It bursts open, the wood splintering at the latch, and Morgan rushes in, gun drawn, finger itching to pull the trigger.

But the room is empty. He must’ve known they would track his phone. Morgan scans the room twice before he feels comfortable enough to lower his gun. He’s gone.

“Do you think he left in a hurry?” Reid asks as he stands in the middle of the room. “He left some stuff behind.” 

“No,” Morgan chimes in as he follows Reid’s gaze. He had noticed the pile of items sitting on the table. They weren't forgotten. They were planted. They were a taught. The items didn't even belong to the unsub. 

Morgan knew because the t-shirt sitting neatly folded in the middle was his. One he has had since college that he never wore but lived in his top dresser anyway. It's the same worn fabric, same hole in the sleeve. The other item was one of (Y/N)'s. A necklace that had gone missing when she was on campus. She wrote about it in her journal that he now had memorized. The last item was a note. A handwritten note from the unsub is scrawled in uneven letters on a napkin. 

Two steps ahead

“Son of a bitch,” Morgan growls under his breath and another crack sounds through the room as he bangs his fist against the table in anger.

The unsub wasn't just a stalker. He was playing a game. And Morgan had to make sure that he didn't win.

Chapter Text

Emily’s hand is firm, but not tight in yours as she leads you down the elevator and through hallways you’re unfamiliar with. Your thoughts are still racing from the phone call. From the fact that they could possibly be heading to find your stalker right now. The reality of it still presses against your chest. 

 Emily’s hand squeezes in yours, and it’s grounding. It brings you back to this moment. It brings you back to her. You look up and you realize that you've stopped in front of a door. She squeezes your hand one more time before pushing open the heavy door.

A chill settles over you as you step inside and there’s a sharp tang of gunpowder that hits the back of your nose. Overhead the fluorescent lights buzz softly, but you can’t hear it. Through the adjacent door, the muffled sound of gunfire is the only thing drawing your attention. 

“Are we at the gun range?”

As you turn towards Emily you see she has already started moving over to the weapons locker. She unlocks it with ease, pulling out a Glock and checking it with practiced precision. When she turns back her expression is soft. 

“You don’t have to shoot,” she says as she steps in front of you, her voice soft. “I come here when I need to clear my mind. Maybe you can take out some anger. I figured it might help.”

Her smile is small but knowing. And there's something about the rhythmic sound of other agents shooting on the other side of the wall mixed with the way Emily’s eyes lock with yours that puts you at ease. Before you know it, you’re nodding, and Emily’s smile widens. 

“Have you ever shot a gun before?” she asks, moving away again, grabbing some earmuffs and a pair of goggles from off of the wall. 

“No,” you say as you watch her movements. “Derek never wanted me to have a gun. He said I needed to learn to protect myself with no weapons.”

“And did you?” Emily asks as she stands in front of you again. She’s so close this time that you can smell the fading scent of her perfume. 

“Yeah,” you respond, thinking back to sparing in the backyard with Derek. “I took karate and taekwondo.”

“Impressive,” Emily says with a smirk as she gently lifts the ear protection and settles it over your head. You smile as you see the look of concentration on her face as she tries to adjust it so it’s comfortable. She sees your smile and she lets out a soft laugh and shakes her head. 

“I’m trying to protect your hearing,” she teases. “Don’t give me that look. 

She slides the goggles onto your face next, her fingers brushing against your skin. Her thumb traces your cheek before her hands fall to rest at your waist. For a moment, the two of you just stand there. Everything outside of this room, everything outside of Emily feels so distant. Muffled by the earmuffs and by her hands against you. 

“Ready?” she asks, after a moment, and you nod.  

One of her hands slides to your back and she guides you towards the other door. She stops for a moment, pulling on her own protective gear before pulling the door open and the two of you walk inside. 

Through the next door, the gunfire is louder, the shots rattling your head and chest even with the earmuffs. You follow Emily past several occupied shooting stalls, catching glimpses of agents shooting, loading magazines, or checking their shots. Bullet-ridden targets swing in the stalls, and for some reason, a shiver runs down your spine. 

Emily finally stops at an open stall near the end. She pauses, letting you step in first before she moves in next to you. 

“Still good?” She asks. You nod again.

She grabs a fresh target, hooks it up, and presses the button sending it back a few yards. Turning to you she pulls the Glock she grabbed earlier from her holster. 

“Standard issue,” she says, handing it to you. “It’s the same one I use.” 

You turn it over in your hands. It’s heavier than you thought it would be. You adjust your grip, letting the gun sit in your hand before lifting it towards the target. 

“The safety is still on,” Emily says as she steps forward, her front pressing against your back. “We need to fix your stance first.” 

Emily’s hand finds your stomach, pressing gently. It catches you off guard and you suck in a sharp breath, your knees nearly going weak at the warmth of her palm. 

“Breathe from here,” she says, her thumb tracing across the front of your shirt. “Breathe deep and relax. If you’re too tense the recoil will hit you harder.” 

You force yourself to exhale, rolling the tension out of your shoulders. Her hand presses again and you take another deep breath. When she’s satisfied, before she’s satisfied her hand drops away from your body, trailing up to meet your hand on the gun. 

“Good. Now move your thumb here. And loosen up your grip. You want to have control of the gun but you don’t need to strangle it.” 

With her guiding touch, you adjust your hold and she lets out a hum of approval. She switches the safety off and steps back, giving you some space. You feel a loss of her heat and for a moment you want to put the gun down and just move closer to her again, but you take another breath and focus. 

“I’m here,” Emily reminds you, standing just behind you. “Show me what you got.” 

With one last breath you squeeze the trigger and the gun bucks in your hand. A jolt shoots up your arms and you feel the rattling in your wrists and shoulders. The buzzing lingers under your skin and you blink trying to refocus. No way your shot was even close to the target, but as you turn around to Emily you’re met with a soft smile. 

“You’re anticipating the shot,” she says, stepping closer again. “You flinched before you even pulled the trigger.” 

“I did?” you question and she nods, an amused look in her eye. 

“Try again.” She places a hand between your shoulder blades, her fingers massaging the muscles there. “But relax. You got this, I promise.” 

You reset your stance, remembering everything Emily helped you to fix before. Emily steps away again, you take another deep breath, and you fire again. And again. And again. Emily steps in to give you pointers and reloads in between. Each shot feels a little more comfortable, and each shot feels like it shakes a little bit of tension out of your bones. 

By the time you’re done, your breathing is heavy but your head feels lighter. Emily turns the safety back on and presses the button to bring the target closer. No head or chest shots, but your aim isn’t nearly as bad as it had been at first. There’s a look of pride in Emily’s eyes as she studies your marks. 

“How do you feel?” She asks as she turns to you. 

“Better,” you say softly and you mean it. Emily smiles and laces her fingers with yours.  

“You are so strong, (Y/N),” she says gently, her thumb moving circles around your palm. You look down at your hands and back up to her. “I need you to remember that, ok?” 

“Okay,” you say, softly. She squeezes your hand again before letting it go. 

“You can go ahead and head to the anteroom, get out of that gear. I’ll be right behind you.”

You watch for a moment as she cleans up the stall, before finally stepping away. Your skin and clothes smell like gunpowder now, and your ears ache a bit as you take off the earmuffs, hanging them back up on the wall. 

You can’t lie though, you definitely feel better. You can see why Emily comes down here. 

She steps into the room not long after you and shoots you a quick smile as she goes to store the gun away again. You watch as she also takes off her earmuffs, standing next to you as she hangs them next to yours. 

“Emily…” you say, and she turns to you, protective goggles still on her face. Before she can reach up and take them off herself, you step forward, sliding the goggles off of her face and resting them on top of her head instead. Her brown eyes flicker with something unreadable and her hands don’t hesitate to find your waist.

“(Y/N)...” she murmurs, her gaze glancing from your eyes down to your lips. Your heart stutters and one of her hands slides to your back. Your hands move from the goggles on her head to the side of her face, and before you can second guess you close the distance pulling her lips to yours.

The kiss is different this time, deliberate and certain. Her lips move beneath yours, slow and searching, as if trying to memorize the way you feel. Emily exhales, a quiet hum, and her fingers tighten at your waist. She tilts her head, deepening the kiss. 

Her lips press more firmly against yours now, moving with an urgency as if she’s done holding herself back. Heat curls at the base of your spine as she pulls you closer, your body flush against hers. There’s no air, no space between you, just your body and hers melting together. 

When you finally break the kiss, Emily doesn’t let you get far. She holds you against her, her breath warm on your face, and her fingers dancing in circles at your waist. She brushes her nose against yours with another light hum, and for a long moment, neither of you speaks. 

“So,” Emily eventually murmurs. “Did I help clear your head?” A breathless laugh escapes you

“Surprisingly, yes,” you say, and with a soft smile Emily pulls you in for another kiss. 

- - - - - - 

When Morgan gets back his movements are slower than usual. He barely registers the hum of the bullpen, or the sounds of Rossi and Reid in step just behind him. His thoughts are as tangled and crumpled as the note he carries in his hand. 

He lets the note fall onto the table as he drops heavily into a chair in the conference room. Garcia watches him with concern, her eyes flicking between him and the other agents as he rests his elbows on his knees, dragging a hand over his head with a sharp exhale. 

When her eyes finally land on Rossi for an answer he just shakes his head. They didn’t get him. 

“We should’ve seen this coming, we should've known, I should’ve…” Morgan starts to say as he sits back up looking at the three of them. His voice is quiet but tense frustration coiled in every word

“Maybe you should…” Reid starts to say but Rossi stops him with a light tap on his arm. Reid hesitates before falling silent. Morgan furrows his eyebrows. 

“What?” he asks, standing up. “Maybe I should do what?” 

“When you guys were still in the room, I called Hotch,” Rossi says carefully. “He thinks we might have a clearer view of this guy if we weren’t so…close.” 

“You’re not taking me off of this case,” Morgan says. “This is my sister, man.” 

“Maybe that’s the problem,” Reid says, trying to be gentle. “We have seen that he isn’t just after (Y/N) anymore. He called Emily, he went into your house. He is escalating by taunting all three of you.” Morgan’s jaw clenches and Rossi steps in before he can argue. 

“He’s not taking you off of the case,” Rossi continues. “He just wonders if it might help for you to take a step back, just for now. Give us a chance to throw some ideas around without you in the room. We’ve been chasing this guy too fast, too hard. If the key players are taken out of the equation, it could give us a clearer picture.” 

Morgan exhales again, softer this time as he sits back down in the chair. He knows that they are right, but he needs to feel like he is doing something. He has never felt so helpless in his life. 

“So what do we do?” he asks, his voice almost desperate. “What can I do?”

“We regroup. We think before we act, and we remind this son of a bitch who the BAU really is.” Morgan nods at Rossi’s words, rubbing a hand over his jaw. 

“Where’s (Y/N)?” he asks, turning to Garcia. 

“I think Emily took her somewhere to clear her head,” she says. 

“I’ll go find them,” Morgan says, pushing himself up to standing, even though his limbs feel heavy. “Leave you guys to….” He trails off, the thought of not being an active part of this investigation still making him sick but he understands. 

- - - - - - 

You step out of the elevator in front of Emily, her hand resting lightly on your back. She hasn’t stopped touching you since you left the gun range, and you’re not complaining. There’s a lightness between the two of you that wasn’t there before, a soft-spokenness that lingers. You can’t help but want to say to hell with this stalker. To hell with everything outside of Emily and the way she made you feel. 

But as you run into Derek just outside of the bullpen the look on his face tells you that this fantasy isn’t coming true quite yet. 

“Hey,” he says, and you can feel the weight behind the simple word. “I was just looking for you two.” 

“What happened?” you ask. “ Did you find him?”

He gives you an apologetic look and shakes his head. Emily’s hand tenses on your back and you can feel the way she shifts, moving an inch closer to you. 

“He left us a message,” Derek continues. “He left one of the necklaces he took from your room and one of my old t-shirts with a note. He says he’s ‘two steps ahead.’” A chill prickles over your skin. 

“He was in your house?” Emily asks and Derek nods. Emily sighs, and you feel like you missed something. Like they just had a conversation without you. 

“What?” you ask, turning to Emily. “What’s going on?” She hesitates for only a moment before answering. 

“They want Morgan to step back from the case.” She says it like it’s a fact. Like It’s obvious. 

“Why would they do that? That doesn’t make any sense,” you start to say but Derek chimes in. 

“The unsub doesn’t just want you anymore (Y/N),” he says. “Whatever this is, whatever he wants now involves both of us, Emily too. I’m too close, I can’t see the full picture.” 

You open your mouth to say something else to ask another question, but before you can a voice cuts through the air.  

“(Y/N)?” 

You freeze. Your body turns before your brain can catch up but you already know who it is.

“Harvey”

Chapter Text

“Hey, babygirl.”

Harvey steps out of the elevator, moving towards you with an easy familiarity. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You and Harvey hadn’t had much of a chance to truly get close yet, but you know he cares about you. And there’s something about seeing another face outside of the BAU that brings you some relief. 

“Babygirl?” You hear Derek question. His face flips between questioning, confusion, and something close to anger in rapid succession and you suddenly remember you still hadn’t told Derek about Harvey. 

“It’s ok,” Emily says, softly, as if reading your mind. “Later.” 

You want to question her, to go to Derek immediately and explain everything but before you can Harvey is pulling you into his arms. 

“When I got a call from the FBI saying they had some questions about you, I was so worried,” he murmurs resting his chin on the top of your head. “I came as quick as I could. I thought something had happened. I thought you were in danger.” 

“I kind of am…” you mumble, and he pulls away just enough to look down at you. 

“What?” he asks, his eyes narrowing in concern. His eyes move over your body as if looking for injury. “What’s going on? Why didn’t you call me?” 

“Mr Graham,” Emily says, taking a step forward. “Hi I am SSA Prentiss. I work with the BAU. My teammate Jennifer is the one who called you. If you don’t mind following me, we can explain everything a little bit better.”

His hands remain on your arms for a second longer as he looks at Emily. There’s something wary in his eyes, like even though he knows she’s FBI he doesn’t trust her. But then he looks back at you, searching your face for approval before he gives her a shot nod. He squeezes your shoulders once before letting go. 

“Lead the way, Agent Prentiss.” As Emily and Harvey start to walk away, Derek holds his hand out stopping you from following. 

“You wanna tell me how you know that guy?” he asks, his voice coming out low and rushed. He’s looking to you for answers, for you to clear something up. And though you genuinely want to, Emily is about to talk to Harve,y and at this moment that takes priority. 

“I’m sorry,” you say and you watch his face fall before you turn on your heels and follow after Emily. 

Derek doesn’t follow no matter how badly he wants to. He was told to step back. With a frustrated huff, he makes his way back to his office. 

You are a few feet behind Emily when she finally stops at a door. She pushes it open and leads Harvey inside before shutting it behind her. You linger just outside, hesitation and determination swirling, fighting for dominance in your chest. You want to hear what they are saying, and for a moment you contemplate pressing your ear to the door, but a voice from behind you makes you jump. 

“There’s a better way to listen, you know,” Hotch says in his usual stoic voice. 

“Oh, I..I didn’t mean to…I was just….” you try to explain yourself, but to your surprise, you actually see a small smile form on his face. 

He doesn’t say anything, just gestures to another door a few feet down. He moves over, pushing it open and holding it there, waiting. Giving him a smile back of thanks you shuffle into the room and you look up to see a large glass window. There are speakers or something in the wall so you can hear and see everything happening in the room over. An interrogation room. 

“Why is he being interrogated?” you ask Hotch, moving closer to the glass. Emily is just asking him basic questions. Things she already knows the answer to. She’s trying to gauge whether or not he will lie. “I thought you guys said there was no way he was the stalker.” 

“He’s not,” Hotch says, crossing his arms over his chest. “But we think he knows who is, even if he isn’t aware yet. Putting some pressure on him will make him more likely to open up. Tell us what we need.” 

Emily stands and she moves out of view, a second later the door behind you opens and she steps into the room. 

“Hey,” she says her voice softening when she sees you. “He’s been cooperative so far. Everything he’s said matches up to what you told us.” 

“That’s good right?” you ask and she smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist as she steps up next to you. 

“Yeah, that’s good.”

Hotch, always observant, seems to recognize that the two of you need a moment. He glances at Emily, having one of those BAU silent conversations, before walking out of the door. 

The second that it clicks shut, Emily dips her head down and you can feel her breath ghosting across your temple as she presses a soft kiss there. When she pulls back, her eyes meet yours, a little more serious than before.

“(Y/N),” she says gently. “Morgan doesn’t need to know about Harvey if you don’t want him to.” 

You inhale slowly, contemplating. Derek wasn’t going to just let it go, especially not after seeing the way Harvey had hugged you earlier. But that doesn’t mean that you have to tell him. It wouldn’t be the first secret that you’ve kept from him, likely not the last. But still…

“No,” you say with a shake of your head. You look back over to Harvey, to your father. “He deserves to know he’s been so invested in this. It’s only fair.” 

“Ok,” she says her hand soothing on your back. “I can tell him. It might be easier to hear coming from me and at least if he gets upset he won’t take it out on you.” 

“You don’t need to…” 

“I want to.” Her voice is firm, assured. “Let me do this for you.” 

You look up to meet her eye, and something about her gaze says that this isn’t just something she wants to do. There’s a need to protect you. Not only from your stalker but from everything that could cause you pain. It makes your heart swell and ache at the same time. 

“Ok,” you breathe out and Emily visibly relaxes. She pulls you into a hug and you bury your face in her shoulder for a moment until she pulls away. Her eyes meet yours again and she runs her thumb across your cheek. 

“I’ll be right back.”

And with that she turns to leave, leaving you alone. Just on the other side of the glass is your father that you never knew about. And he’s being interrogated about the man that has been stalking you. And he might know who it is. A chill runs down your spine.

You watch as the door to the interrogation room opens again, and Harvey’s eyes shift to whoever has walked in. JJ and Rossi step into your view at the same time Hotch joins you back in the observation room. JJ gives Harvey a polite, professional smile while Rossi stone faces him. Despite the circumstances, you let out an amused huff. You thought that good cop bad cop stuff only happened on TV. 

“Mr. Graham,” JJ says as she sits in the chair directly across from him. Rossi stays standing. “We appreciate you coming here and taking the time to talk to us.” Harvey leans back in his seat, his eyes flickering between the two of them.

“Of course. If (Y/N) is in trouble I’d do anything to help.” 

“That's good to hear,” JJ says with another polite smile. “We just need to ask you a couple of questions to help us connect some dots.” Harvey nods repositioning again, getting more and more nervous the longer he sits in that room. 

 “Mr Graham,” JJ continues. “When did you first learn that (Y/N) was your daughter?” 

“I suspected right after she was born. I know what I was signing up for sleeping with a married woman. But one day randomly she cut me off, stopped talking to me refused to see me. When she had a kid nine months later I was suspicious, but I never wanted to break up her home so I let it be.” He pauses for a moment, his voice getting softer, more contemplative.  “But then (Y/N) found me a little while back and it felt like fate.” 

“A little while back?” JJ questions, her head tilted slightly. “Can you be more specific?” Harvey scratches at the stubble on his chin, thinking. 

“Well I guess it wasn’t really a few years. It was probably more like a year and a half. We first met up just before the holidays so…yeah a bit over a year and a half.”

JJ makes a note of the timeline in a notebook that she had brought in with her while Rossi studies Harvey, sizing him up. 

“It feels longer though,” Harvey says, the silence making him nervous. Making him talk. “I may not know her as well as I would like but, I do know her pretty well and…well she feels like mine. Like I’ve known her her entire life.” 

“Mr Graham, does anybody else know that (Y/N) is your daughter?” Rossi asks. The question is jarring, as he refuses to let Harvey’s sentimental moment hang. You’re not sure if it’s intentional or not but knowing this team, it probably is. 

“What?” Harvey asks, caught off guard just as you were. 

“You seem very proud of (Y/N),” Rossi says, taking a few steps closer to the table. “I have my own children, JJ too. And I know that when I am proud of them I want to tell the world. It’s human nature. So who did you tell when you learned about (Y/N)? Coworkers, friends, maybe a golf buddy or two?” 

“Well, yes, of course.” JJ pulls a blank sheet of paper from her notebook and slides it over to Harvey along with the pen in her hands. 

“Mr. Graham, we are going to need a list of everybody in your life that knows about (Y/N).” He glances between the two of them. 

“Uh, yeah…yeah ok,” he says picking up the pen and starting to write. But after the second or third name his hand slows, his grip on the pen tightening just a fraction. When he looks up again, he is visibly more nervous.

“Is (Y/N) really in danger?” he asks. “Is someone trying to hurt her?” 

“Mr Graham if you could just give us the names…”

“You guys think that I have something to do with it? That I know who it is?” 

“That’s what we are trying to figure out,” Rossi replies.  

“Do you know anybody who would want to hurt, (Y/N)?” JJ asks, her voice still kind.  

Harvey hesitates and on the other side of the glass you freeze, your breath catching in your throat. Why is he pausing? Does he know somebody? Does he know who did this? 

“You do, don’t you?” Rossi asks, leaning forward, his hands now resting on the table. He’s not really asking, he’s taunting. Harvey gets visibly more nervous, his legs starting to bounce, his hand shakes. He puts the pen down. 

“He wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Harvey says and his voice is light, so light that you almost can’t hear it. You step closer to the glass. 

“Who wouldn’t?” JJ asks. Harvey hesitates again before letting out a sigh. 

“He’s an intern at my office,” he admits. “After the first few times I met up with (Y/N) I put a picture of her on my desk next to the pictures of my other kids. He saw it and he started asking questions. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it but something about the way he was asking just seemed…off.”

“We are going to need his name,” Rossi says.

“Lewis…Lewis Wells,” Harvey says and his gaze drops to the table in front of him. “He wasn’t there for long, he lost the internship not long after he got it. I don’t know what trouble he got into but my manager told him not to come back.”

“When did he lose the internship?” JJ asks. 

“Maybe, around this time last year. Appparrently It kept him from graduating.”

“That’s the first stressor,” Hotch murmurs to himself, and your attention turns to him. You had forgotten he was even in here. Hotch starts to head for the door and by the time you look back to the glass JJ and Rossi are standing up too, and exiting the room. 

You move towards the door too needing to follow them, to see what they do, to know what happens next. But as you open the door you collide with Emily. Her hands find your waist, steadying you as she sees the frantic look in your eyes. 

“What happened?” she asks, but you’re not paying her any attention, your gaze is stuck on the backs of Rossi and JJ. 

“(Y/N),” Emily tries to get your attention again and you finally turn to her. 

“Lewis Wells,” you say, and it doesn’t take long for her to catch on. 

“Do you recognize the name?” You frown shaking your head. 

“No…no, I don’t think so.” 

“Do you think you could recognize a face?” 

“I can try.” Emily nods, pulling your hand in hers. 

“Good,” she says as the two of you follow the direction the rest of the team went. 

By the time you walk into the conference room, a picture of Lewis’ ID is already pulled up on the big screen. You stop just inside the door and you squint, searching for even the faintest hint of familiarity. But it falls flat. You’ve got nothing.

“I don’t know him,” you say softly, your voice almost defeated. Emily is the only one who hears you and she looks at you, concern in her eyes as the rest of the team keeps pushing forward. 

“He’s in DC,” Garica announces. 

“What?” rings out in a chorus from several different team members. 

“He used his credit card to buy two plane tickets landing in DC four days ago.” 

“Has he booked any hotels? Rideshares? Eaten at any restaurants?” Hotch asks. “Garcia anything you can give us.” 

“Way ahead of you boss,” she replies her fingers still flying over the keyboard. “That same card was used to book an Airbnb just outside of the city. I’m sending the location to your cells now” 

“Let’s go bring him in.”

It all happened so fast, and suddenly everyone has filed out of the room leaving just you and Emily. At some point, your hand had let go of hers. You’re not sure when. 

“This could be it, (Y/N)...” Emily says, her voice quiet, almost hesitant. “This could all be over.” 

You just take a deep breath, but the weight still feels heavy on your chest.

“Are you ok?” she asks gently.

“Yeah…” you say, and for some reason you feel tears prickling in the back of your eyes and throat. “Yeah, I just…I need some air.” 

“Yeah of course,” Emily says with a nod of understanding. She takes a step back but watches you the whole way as you walk out of the room. 

Your legs drag you outside of the building even though your brain is barely telling them to. Your brain is barely telling you anything you feel numb. You weren’t supposed to feel this numb. You were supposed to feel relief, joy, excitement…anything. But even the deep breath of the crisp air outside does nothing to stimulate any part of you. 

You close your eyes, for a second, trying to center yourself, when suddenly a hand clamps down on your arm, gripping so tight you fear your circulation might cut off. Something cold and sharp presses against your side, so hard you feel it through the fabric of your borrowed shirt.  

“Scream and I’ll gut you,” a voice hisses in your ear. It’s not as deep as you had expected. It sounded like a woman. The knife presses harder, and you can feel as it nicks your skin. 

“Now walk.” 

- - - - - - 

The team moves in swiftly, clearing the house with practiced precision. Guns raised, they make their way through every hall and room until they find Lewis Wells sitting casually on the couch, legs propped up mindlessly munching on a bag of chips. 

“FBI hands in the air!” Hotch commands, his voice sharp as ever. 

Lewis jumps, startled, the bag of chips sliding off of his lap and spilling out onto the floor. His eyes are wide with fear and his hands shoot into the air as he sees just how many agents are pointing weapons at him. 

“Woah! WOAH! What the hell is going on?!” he stammers. JJ is the first to put her gun down. 

“Mr Wells?” she asks, and his shifty eyes dart over to her. 

“Yes?” 

“You need to come with us,” JJ says and Rossi steps forward pulling out his handcuffs. 

“Wait, please, what is this about?” Lewis tries to plea but the team isn’t listening. Rossi yanks his arms behind his back making him gasp in pain and he cinches the cuffs just a hair too tight. 

“I haven’t done anything!” Lewis insists as he’s dragged out of the house. “What’s going on?! PLEASE!!??”

As the others start to walk out behind Rossi and Lewis, Reid lingers behind, his gaze fixed on the chips now scattered across the floor. His brow furrows, his mind moving a mind a minute as his eidetic memory brings back everything he has learned about this case so far. JJ notices his hesitation and pauses in the doorway. 

“Reid?” she calls, looking over at him. “What is it?” 

“This doesn’t make sense,” he mumbles, bringing his hand to his face as he thinks. JJ walks back over to him

“What doesn’t make sense?” 

“The stalker has been meticulous,” Reid says. “He’s gone out of his way to hide who he is. Using burner phones, faking new IP addresses…he has covered his tracks at every turn, but now he chooses to buy both the plane tickets and the Airbnb with his own card?” 

“You think we got the wrong guy?” JJ asks, carefully. Reid looks up to her, his face filled with unease. 

“I think there’s a lot more to this that we’re missing… and I have a feeling it’s not going to end well.”

Chapter Text

You don’t see her face. She stays behind you the whole time, guiding you to the parking deck. To anyone who happened to pass by or get a glimpse of you two, you may like good friends, maybe even lovers, walking side by side. They couldn’t see the knife pressed to your ribs or the few drops of blood that had seeped through the shirt Emily lent you this morning. 

Emily. 

It’s hard to conceptualize the fact that it was just this morning Emily was handing you the borrowed shirt. Or that just yesterday you had kissed her for the first time. That just a few days ago she was a stranger. The past 72 hours have felt like a few lifetimes and you’ve fallen for Emily more and more in each one. 

You wonder what she’s doing right now. Is she still in the conference room waiting for you to come back? Is she talking to Garcia? Maybe she found Derek, or maybe she went back to her desk, already looking at the next case. She has no idea where you are, or what’s going on. You just hope that she and the team can figure it out before too late. 

The pressure of the blade eases as you approach the privacy of the parking deck, but her grip on your arm is still crushing. She leads you to a small car, an older model Honda Civic, dark blue. You do your best to memorize it, taking in every detail. The few scratches that you can see on the passenger door, no bumper stickers, and no major damage, but one of the rear tail lights has a thin crack running through it. You’re just about to memorize the license plate number when she yanks open the trunk, shoving you inside. 

Your shoulder slams against the metal floor of the trunk sending a jolt of pain through your arm. You bite down, keeping yourself from hissing out in pain. You don’t know what exactly she wants, but you don’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing you in pain. 

She looks down at you right before she slams the trunk closed and you finally see her face. Your blood turns to ice. Kidnappers don’t typically leave witnesses, and if she’s letting you see her face…there’s really only one way she plans for this to end. 

- - - - - - 

There's a soft knock on the door, but Morgan barely registers it. 

He’s been sitting in his office, staring at that damn picture for ages now. That perfect family photo that his mom loves so much. The one that didn’t include (Y/N). 

When did everything fall apart? How long before (Y/N) was born had his mother been sleeping with somebody else? Maybe their family had always been broken. Maybe when (Y/N) was born she didn’t break anything, she just held a light to the hidden cracks that were already there. 

“Derek,” he hears and he finally looks up. Emily stands in the doorway a look of concern etched across her face. 

“Hey,” he says straightening, trying to compose himself. To look as put together as usual. But she sees through it easily and she shoots him a sympathetic smile. 

“This doesn’t change anything, you know,” she says stepping further into the office. “She’s still your mother, they are still your family. And (Y/N) is still your little sister.”

“Yeah…” he says, his gaze dropping back to the picture. “Yeah, I know.” 

“And Harvey seems like a good guy,” Emily continues, still trying to reassure him. “He has two other kids, a boy and a girl. They are younger, both in high school, but you can tell he adores them, (Y/N) too.”

Morgan is silent saying nothing for a moment as a mix of his emotions knot in his chest. Relief, resentment, jealousy, an ugly mix of all three fester beneath his ribs. He’s glad that Harvey is a good man, and that (Y/N) has him. But he’s jealous too. Jealous that (Y/N) has a father when he spent so long thinking that they shared that loss. Jealous even more than she has someone else to look up to. Someone else to protect her. 

“Did you need something?” he asks, changing the subject. Emily lets out a breath, wanting to dig further but letting it go. 

“I think we found the guy. Harvey gave us his name, Lewis Wells. When Garcia looked him up she found plane tickets landing in DC at the same time as (Y/N)’s stalker. The team is heading to go bring him in right now.” 

For a moment he lets the relief wash over him. But before the knots uncoil themselves from his shoulders, something nags in the back of his mind. Maybe it’s because he wasn’t helping. He didn’t hear their conversations, he doesn’t know exactly how everything played out but it feels almost too easy. He furrows his eyebrows and looks back over to Emily.

“Plane tickets?” he echoes and Emily frowns, thrown off by his skepticism. 

“Yeah, he bought two plane tickets…landed in DC around 11 pm five days ago.”

“Where did he fly out of?” Morgan asks, walking from behind his desk over to where he stashed (Y/N)’s journal after the team was done with it. Emily moves closer to him, still confused, but more curious now than anything. 

“I don’t know…I didn’t look. Why?” 

Emily watches as he flips through the pages, scanning carefully until he finds the one that he is looking for. He shoves the journal in his hand and taps the open page.

“Because he sent left another gift for (Y/N) outside of her dorm that same day.”

Emily stands there, staring at the journal in her hands as Morgan pulls his phone out quickly dialing Garcia’s number. There’s not enough time to walk down to her office. 

“Babygirl,” he says as she answers. “What city did Lewis fly out of.” 

“Give me a moment sugar,” Garcia says on the other end of the line. “Looks like he flew out of…Detriot.” Morgan meets Emily’s gaze, his expression sharp as he points to the journal again. 

“The stalker was at her school…in Connecticut. Lewis was in Detroit. It’s the wrong fucking guy, Emily,” his jaw clenches as he hangs up the phone. “Where’s (Y/N)?” Emily hesitates, glancing down at the journal in her hand. How did they miss this? 

“She uh…she said she needed some air.” Morgans’ eyes narrow. 

“And you let her go alone?” 

“She’s an adult, Morgan, and she needed some space.” She doesn’t mean to sound defensive, but when Morgan points it out she realizes how stupid she had been to just blindly trust that (Y/N) would be fine. 

“I don’t give a damn what she thinks she needs, Emily,” he snaps. “She is being, followed by a lunatic and you just let her go off alone.” Emily doesn’t dare try to counter him because she knows that he’s right, and she hates herself for it. 

Morgan strides out of the office and Emily is hot on his heels. He moves towards the elevators but it’s packed. Too slow. He huffs in frustration and turns to take the stairs two at a time. 

“Did she say where she was going?” he asks over his shoulder. 

“No…” Emily admits, her voice low. She thinks she hears Morgan mumble something under his breath but she can’t make it out. 

When they get to the first floor, they scan the open space. Agents mill around soft chatter filling the room, but there’s no sign of (Y/N). Morgan doesn’t slow as he pushes the front doors open.

“(Y/N)!” he bellows as he steps outside, loud enough to get a few looks. Emily starts to tell him to lower his voice, not to draw attention. But as she looks over to him the sight nearly knocks the wind from her lungs. 

She had seen Morgan in countless life-or-death situations. Seen him stare down serial killers, tackle criminals with nothing but his bare hands. Charge into danger head first with no hesitation. But she has never seen him this scared.  

“She’s around here somewhere,” she murmurs more to reassure herself than to Morgan. 

Morgan doesn’t respond, he just turns and starts walking around the building. Emily watches him for a moment, before turning and searching in the other direction. Morgan’s footsteps are heavy, pounding against the concrete. She can still hear Morgan’s shouting, calling out (Y/N)’s name, each time sounding more desperate. 

She can’t bring herself to yell out. She probably couldn’t even if she tried. Her guilt and fear are wrapped so tightly around her it’s suffocating. Nauseating. She runs out of area to search, places to go and she nearly collapses to the ground. The only thing keeping her upright is the thought that maybe…maybe Morgan had run into her and she would turn around and (Y/N) would be fine. 

She’s just about to turn around and head back when she hears his heavy footsteps approaching. She turns around and her hands start to shake as she sees the desperate look on his face. No sign of (Y/N). 

“We can keep looking,” Emily says when Morgan gets close enough. She’s just as desperate as he is and she’s not ready to accept what she knows is true. “She’s here she just…I don’t know maybe she…”

“If she were still here we would have found her by now,” Morgan says his jaw clenched. He opens his mouth, about to say something else. Maybe yell again, blame Emily, blame himself, but he doesn’t get the chance. 

They both turn their heads as two black SUVs pull up to the secured entrance. The team is back.

Rossi steps out first, his hand gripping the arm of the suspect, Lewis. He’s in handcuffs and his face is a mess, almost as if he had been crying. Emily can’t help but watch as Rossi and Hotch take the wrong man inside. 

“Reid!” Emily calls when she sees him stepping out of the second SUV with JJ. She rushes over. “It’s not him. You got the wrong guy.”

“I know,” Reid says glancing over to Morgan. 

“Where’s (Y/N)?” JJ asks as she steps up next to Reid. 

“I don’t know…” Emily admits. 

- - - - - - 

She didn’t tie your hands. Your feet either. But the trunk is cramped and dark, the air thick and stale. You can’t place the smell but it’s suffocating, somewhere between mothballs and engine grease. 

Your shoulder throbs but you push it down, running your hands along the sides of the trunk feeling for something, a latch, a notch, a knob, anything. There has to be an emergency release somewhere. How long ago did they start putting those on cars? 

You trace every inch of the trunk that you can reach without contorting your body in ways that it refuses to move. But you find nothing. No level, no button. 

“Damn it!” 

Frustration boils through you and you kick at the wall of the trunk. It doesn’t make you any less frustrated, it just sends a sharp pain through your foot. You bite down and curse again before taking a breath.

You need to calm down. Think. Breathe.

The car jolts suddenly, bouncing over a pothole or a speedbump, you’re not sure. But you didn't have enough time to prepare and your head slams back against the floor. 

It knocks the wind out of you and you squeeze your eyes shut. The pain radiates through your skull, joining the throbbing aches in your shoulder and foot. At this rate, you’d already be too beat up for her to do much worse whenever you got to where she was bringing you. 

The car takes another turn but you brace yourself this time, pressing your hands against the sides of the trunk to keep yourself from hitting the walls or the floor again. You’re not sure how much longer you’re there, every time you try and time it, your head pulses again. But suddenly the car stops, idles, and then cuts off. You’re here. 

You shift, preparing yourself to jump her, kick her, do something the moment that she opens the trunk to help you get away. But before her frame even fully comes into view a soft hiss feels the air and then all you feel is burning. 

Your eyes, your nose, and your throat are all on fire. You try to gasp or cough but that only makes it worse. The sting of the pepper spray chokes and blinds you, and instinctively you turn away. There goes any chance of you fighting. 

Her hands are on you before you can get your bearings and she finally ties up your wrist before hauling you out of the trunk with seemingly more force than she shoved you in with. You stumble as your feet hit uneven ground and all she does to help you is tug at the rope at your wrists pulling you forward. 

You’re still trying to blink the spray away from your eyes, so you can’t exactly see what’s around you. There’s tall grass brushing at your calves as you walk, the crumple of leaves and sticks under your feet. Between that and the birds you hear chirping from somewhere above you, there are no other sounds. You’re not sure where you are, but it’s definitely not the city. 

“Where are we?” you ask, your voice still raspy and raw from the pepper spray. She doesn’t answer, just keeps pulling you forward. 

A door creaks open, and through your haze, you catch a glimpse of white paint before she pushes you inside. You turn, trying to shoot back through the door before she can close it behind you but slams just as your fists hit it. You can hear the click of locks. One. Two. Three.

You pound at the door with your first, the best you can with them still bound and call out for her, then for anybody. But even as the words leave your mouth you can already tell that it’s no use. She’s the only one who can hear you out here, and there’s no way she is going to let you go. 

You sink down to the floor, your back pressed against the door wooden door. The rope bites into your wrist, the fibers scratching against your skin as you try to move your hands. You groan and lean your head back against the door. Your eyes still burn, each breath coming short and shallow as you try to keep the burn out of your lungs.

Seconds pass. Maybe minutes. Maybe hours, but eventually the burn fades and you can open your eyes without pain. 

The shed is small, but not awfully so. It’s about the size of your childhood bedroom. The walls are unfinished, the floor is cold and there’s a single lightbulb hanging in the middle of the ceiling. It’s barely illuminating, the dull yellow light mixing without another white light. You turn following the second glow and notice a small window just above the door. It’s getting late, the sun getting low but it’s not dark out yet. She couldn’t have brought you far. 

When you scan the room, you see a chair that sits in one corner, one of the plastic foldable ones. Just next to it is a paint bucket and on the opposing wall are some shelves holding a few scattered tools. Gritting your teeth you push yourself to your feet moving towards them. 

A screwdriver, a wrench, and a tape measure. A saw or a knife of sorts would’ve been ideal, but you keep the screwdriver in mind. It could be a weapon if you needed it to, but first, you need to find a way to get your wrists free. 

Looking further you notice that the very top shelf is broken, hanging lopsided, only one nail keeping it from crashing down. The other nail meant to hold it up is still embedded into the wall a few feet above your head. Still exposed, still sharp.

You look back over to the paint bucket. You’re not sure if it’s still full but it looks sturdy enough. You shove the bucket closer to the shelves with your foot and put some weight on it to test it. When it seems sturdy enough, you step up onto the bucket, reaching up and pressing the rope against the nail. And you start sawing.

The rope doesn’t give easily, and every time you shift your wrist it cuts further into your skin. You can feel yourself building up a sweat, your shoulders starting to burn but you keep going. Bit by bit you watch as the fibers fray, snapping and popping until the rope gives way and with a breath of relief you sit back on the floor, shaking the remaining rope off of your wrist. 

You rub at the sore chaffing skin and look up at the window above the door. It’s dark now. But there’s no way you’re going to sleep. Because now your hands are free, and you were going to find a way out of here.

Chapter Text

“Morgan is with Garcia,” Reid says as he steps into the small room. Emily looks over her shoulder as he walks in, pulling her thumb away from her mouth, barely realizing that she had been chewing it again. 

“How is he?” she asks. Reid hesitates before giving her a slight shake of his head. Emily let out a breath, she already knew the answer. “And…how angry is he?” 

“Garcia is trying to calm him down but…” He doesn’t need to finish. Emily turns back toward the observation glass, her gaze locking onto the man they had just brought in. Her stomach twists. 

“This is all my fault.” 

“You couldn’t have known,” Reid tries to reassure her. “She was just getting some air, just taking a walk outside of a federal building. I would’ve thought she would be safe too.” 

“Yeah, but she wasn’t. And now she’s gone.”

Reid isn’t sure what to say. He doesn’t know how he can make this situation better. What words could possibly ease Emily’s guilt? Either way, he doesn’t get the chance to say anything because Hotch, JJ, and Rossi all walk in. Their faces are grim, not much different from Emily’s.

“Did you check the cameras?” She asks immediately. 

“You can’t make out any identifying features,” JJ says gently. “Somehow, he knew exactly where the cameras were and managed to avoid giving them a clear view of his face.” 

“So what’s the plan?” Emily asks, a hint of desperation in her voice as she looks between the three of them. “What do we do next?” 

“He’s involved,” Hotch says, gesturing toward Lewis. He seems to be the only one who can muster even the semblance of calm right now. “We think that whoever he bought that plane ticket for is the one who took (Y/N).” Emily’s brows knit together.  

“This didn’t profile as two people. You think they are working together?”

“I think that Lewis either knows more than he’s letting on, or more than he realizes.”

Hotch nods to Rossi, and the two of them walk out of the room and into the interrogation room. When Rossi walks in, the first thing that he does is spread a set of pictures across the table in front of Lewis. Emily recognizes them immediately, all of them coming from (Y/N)’s journal. 

“What is this?” Lewis asks as he blinks at them in confusion. He picks up a few, flipping through them before looking up to the agents. “What are these? You guys still haven’t told me why I am here.” 

“Where’s (Y/N)?” Hotch asks, not entertaining any of Lewis’ questions. 

“Who?” Rossi slides another picture forward, this one of (Y/N). It’s not recent, she looks younger, happier than the (Y/N) that Emily has gotten to know and a pang shoots through her heart.

When Lewis looks down at the picture his face goes ashen. 

“Did…did something happen to her?” he asks, picking up the picture. “Is she ok?” 

“So you do know her,” Rossi says, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“And it seems like you care about what happens to her, too,” Hotch adds. Lewis shifts in his seat and rolls one of his shoulders, glancing between the two agents. 

“If you’re honest with us Lewis, we might be able to make things shake in your favor,” Rossi says. “What do you know about (Y/N)?” 

“I don’t know her,” he says quickly, his eyes glancing back down at the picture. “I mean I’ve never…I never met her in person.” 

“We are going to need more than that, Lewis.” He swallows nervously.  

“Her…dad. Her dad was showing her off. We worked together and I saw her picture, so I asked her name. I…I thought she was pretty, so I found her socials. I tried to talk to her, but she kinda blew me off.” 

“Blew you off?” Lewis nervously rubs his palms against his jeans, looking up at Rossi. 

“Well, yeah. I tried to slide into her DMs. She uh, she posted this picture, right, where she uh…” 

“Get to the point,” Hotch cuts in. 

“Right. Well, I hit her up, but she turned me down. Said she swung the other way, but who really knows, you know.” Emily clenches her fist at how nonchalantly he brushes that off. He’s a scumbag who thinks he can get into the pants of everything that moves but, so far she doesn’t think she he’s the killer. 

“And after she rejected you, was that the last time you ever tried to contact her?” 

“Yeah…yes of course. Well…no, but we didn’t talk much.” 

“Elaborate,” Rossi says, his voice almost a warning. 

“Well, I mean we talked a few times, I figured even though she brushed me off, she’d come around eventually.”

“Come around?”

“Yeah, she would message me back sometimes, so I thought I was making progress. But I had to keep it quiet, because my girl wasn’t happy when she caught me Dming her.”

“You were talking to (Y/N) at the same time you had a girlfriend?” Hotch asks. 

“Yeah,” Lewis says with a shrug. “But that’s just how our relationship goes.”

“If this is how your relationship goes, then why was she so upset?” Rossi asks, unimpressed.

“I guess something about (Y/N) was different, I don’t know. She broke, like, all of my shit.” 

“And you told her about (Y/N)?” 

“I had to or else she might’ve broken my neck next.” 

“Lewis, we are going to need your girlfriend's name,” Rossi says. 

“Tiff. Tiffany Thompsom.” That’s all Emily needs to hear before she is out of the door and headed to Garcia’s office.

When Emily gets to her office, Morgan is standing in the corner of the room, arms crossed, eyes rimmed red. Garcia is standing in front of him, offering a box of tissues he clearly has no intention of taking. 

Emily freezes, the guilt washing over her again, and she feels sick to her stomach, unable to form words as they look over to her. 

“Derek…” Emily finally says. 

He watches her for another moment before stepping forward and pulling her into a hug. She’s startled for a moment but quickly she hugs him back, tighter than she probably should. They stand there for a beat before he finally lets go and steps back. 

“What do you have?” Morgan asks, his voice weak. Emily clears her throat. 

“His girlfriend, Tiffany…Lewis said she was pissed after he started messaging (Y/N).” Morgan frowns, taking in the new information. 

“Do you think she was jealous enough to go to these extremes?” Morgan asks

“That could be who he bought the other ticket for.” Morgan shakes his head, still feeling like something is missing. 

“But then… how would she have been on campus?” 

“What if the ticket wasn’t used…” Garcia suggests, and they turn to her, having forgotten that she was here. 

“What?” Morgan asks as he and Emily exchange a look. 

“The other plane ticket. Just because he bought it doesn’t mean that he used it,” Garcia says, her fingers flying over the keyboard. “What’s his girlfriend's name?”

“Tiffany Thompson,” Emily says as she and Morgan move to stand behind her chair. 

“Hello. Tiffany Thompson’s license is attached to a rental car that was picked up from…well, what do you know, it was picked up from a Hertz in New Haven.” 

“They bought the tickets, but she drove?” Morgan questions. “We need to talk to Lewis.” 

When Emily and Morgan make it back to the interrogation room, Morgan doesn’t wait. He pushes the door open, cutting into whatever conversation Rossi and Hotch were having with Lewis. 

“Where’s (Y/N)?” Derek demands walking up to Lewis, who looks even more scared with him in the room. 

“I already told you guys, I don’t know.” Morgan slams his hand on the table, and everybody jumps. 

“Then where’s Tiffany?” Lewis blinks and swallows nervously.

“What does… what…does Tiff have to do with this?”

“She knows where (Y/N) is. Doesn’t she?” Morgan’s voice is low, dangerous. 

“I…I don’t know.”

“Bullshit! Your girlfriend got a little more jealous than you’re letting on, didn’t she? And now she has my sister. And I swear to you, Lewis, if you don’t tell us everything that you know, I will make sure that I find something on you and make it stick so hard that you will sit and feel yourself rotting away for the rest of your life in prison. Where are they?” 

“This was her idea!” Lewis admits, practically shaking. “The whole trip to DC. She… she’s the one who said that she knew (Y/N) would come here, but I didn’t know her plan. I didn’t know what she was doing. I’ve… I’ve barely even seen her the past few days, she’s been off somewhere doing something that I knew I shouldn’t ask about, so I didn’t.” 

“You son of a…” 

“Morgan,” Hotch says, grabbing Morgan's arm before he can step forward and choke the guy sitting in the interrogation chair. With a huff, he yanks his arm from Hotch’s and storms out of the room again. 

- - - - - - 

Not that your hands were free, the first thing you did was go back to the shelves and grab the screwdriver. Your fingers curl around the handle as you run your thumb over the tip. It wasn’t the sharpest, honestly, it was quite dull, but if it came down to it, you could do some damage. All it would take would be a well-timed, well-aimed jab, and you could hurt the woman just enough to run past her. 

You slip the screwdriver into the waistband of your pants, tugging your shirt down over it. You force yourself to take a few slow breaths, trying to calm your heart as it continues to beat out of your chest. You need to be able to think, you need to be smart. 

You glance over to the chair, not quite wanting to sit down, get too comfortable. You’re not sure when the woman might be coming back or what you need to be ready for. Your muscles tense at the thought. You need to be prepared for anything. She could want to torture you…starve you…kill you…

The door swings open and you stiffen, using every part of your self-control to keep yourself from reaching for the screwdriver. The woman steps into the room, closing and locking the door behind her. When she turns again, you see a styrofoam to-go box in one hand and the same knife from earlier in the other.

The woman barely looked at her as she strode forward and tossed the plate onto the ground in front of you. It landed with a thud, and the lid popped open, revealing the food inside. It’s not much, about the equivalent of hospital food, but if she was feeding you, that meant that she was trying to keep you alive. At least for now. 

The woman finally looks at you, and her gaze is studying and calculating. Her eyes narrow in a way that makes your skin crawl. She moves on from you and instead glances around the room. Her eyes land on the shelves before turning back to you. 

Before you can react, a hand slams against your chest, shoving you back against the wall. The impact knocks the air from your lungs and leaves you momentarily stunned, the pain in your shoulder from earlier coming flashing back. 

And then the woman's hands are on you. Searching…everywhere. Her cold, bony hands dip under your clothes without hesitation or permission, and you struggle trying to twist away, but she’s stronger than she looks. You clench your teeth as her searching turns into groping and bile rises in your throat. 

It isn’t until she finds what she is looking for that she steps away, the screwdriver in her hands now. 

“Clever,” she says sarcastically, pocketing the screwdriver and holding the knife out towards you. You swallow hard and once again try to force your breathing to slow, your mind to focus. 

“Strip,” the woman orders. “I need to make sure you can’t get anymore bright ideas and hide anything else.” Your jaw clenches, but you don’t move. This makes her angrier. She steps forward, the knife glinting in the dim light coming from the exposed bulb. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she says. “So don’t make me.” 

“If you don’t want to hurt me, then why am I here?” you question. She studies you again and you see the corner of her lips turn up into a cruel smile. 

“I wanted to see what Lewis saw in you.” 

“I don’t…I don’t know a Lewis,” you say, shaking your head in confusion. “Who is Lewis?”

Chapter Text

"Don't play dumb with me (Y/N).” Her knife digs into your side again, a feeling you’re really starting to hate. It doesn’t quite cut you like last time, but it’s calculated and controlled. A warning. 

“I’m not playing anything,” you try to say, but she presses down harder, and you can’t help the soft hiss that falls between your teeth. You flinch away from the blade, but she follows.

“You’ve talked to him,” she seethes. “You flirted with him! You still follow him!” 

“Wait, what? Like on social media?” you ask. “Is that what this is about? Some random guy I followed back?”

“If he’s just some random guy, then why did you message him back?” Tiffany hisses. “I saw the things that you said to him.” 

“I’m gay!” you say, your voice rising in desperation. “One look at any of my accounts will tell you that. I promise, your brother, your boyfriend, or whoever this Lewis is, I don’t want him.”

“And that’s the worst part, isn’t it?” she says, taking a step closer to you, her voice like venom. “You don’t even like him, and he still wanted you! Everybody wants you! Guys, girls, people who are taken, people who should know better, fucking FBI agents too, appparently.”

The room suddenly feels much smaller than before

“So, what? All of this is because you’re jealous?”

“You think I’m jealous of you?” Her face twists, an insulted sneer forming on her face.

“You’ve been stalking me. You’ve been watching me in my dorm, the library…you sent me messages…pictures…

“I didn’t send those!” she snaps, insulted by the implication. “I’m not that pathetic. I wouldn’t be caught dead sending love letters to someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” you question, your voice hardening. “So what are you now? A kidnapper and a racist? Or are you a homophobe?” 

The slap comes hard, and without warning. 

Her hand cracks across your face with enough force to have your ears ringing. Your cheek burns instantly, and for a second the room blurs. The sheer strength of it catches you off guard. Your hand lifts to your cheek reflectively, the skin already hot to the touch. 

“I liked it better when you didn’t talk,”  she spits. You turn to look at her again, and you catch as her demeanor shifts. Her anger fades, and she starts to laugh as if recalling an old joke. 

“You know I didn’t think much of you at first,” she says, her voice almost light, playful. “When I saw your pictures, I thought ‘Who is this nobody who thinks she is a somebody just because she goes to Yale?’”

You stay silent, listening, and watching as this new, almost conversational side of the woman has taken over. She’s calmer than before, but for some reason she feels even more dangerous. 

“But then I started watching you,” she muses. “And I saw the way people talk to you. The way they look at you. Like they are enchanted, like you’re perfect. Your friends, your professors, baristas, classmates, Emily…” 

Your breath catches. The sound of Emily’s name on her lips feels wrong, especially being brought up now. But you think of her, and the team. They had to know you were in trouble. You just had to make it until they found you. 

“And I kept thinking, what is it about her that has everybody falling at their feet,” she continues. “So I decided to find out.” 

“So it really has been you the whole time?” you finally say, voice low. 

“I told you,” she says, annoyed. “I didn’t send any of the notes or texts.”

“I’m just trying to understand,” you say, keeping your voice soft. “So you and Lewis are a team?” 

“Let’s just say, we each had our own…motivations… for watching you.” 

“And what’s yours?” you ask before you can stop yourself. 

She smirks and turns to look back at you. She lifts the knife again, pointing it at you. 

“You intrigue me.” The knife dips, and her gaze trails from your face down your body. “Take your fucking clothes off. I won’t ask again.” 

You pause again, momentarily considering refusing again. But the look in her eyes tells you her words from earlier weren’t true. She did want to hurt you. And she was looking for any excuse. 

Your fingers tremble as you grab the hem of your shirt. You pull it over your head, and your pants and shoes follow not long after. And she watches, unblinking. Her expression is hard to read, somewhere between fascination and hunger. With your body nearly bare, her eyes drift over you again, slowly, almost predatory. 

“Hm,” she hums softly. Then her hand lifts again, still holding the knife. But it’s her fingers that touch your skin. You tense, every muscle in your body going rigid as her touch ghost across your stomach. You screw your eyes shut, trying to push down the vulnerability she’s no doubt looking for. “No wonder everybody wants you.” 

Her touch lingers for a moment before she pulls away, and you gasp in a shaky breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding. You’re muscles are still tense, trembling as she kicks the styrofoam plate of food closer to you. 

“Eat,” she demands, walking back towards the door again. “You’re going to need it.” 

- - - - - - 

Hotch’s eyes stay on Lewis as Morgan storms out. When the door slams, Lewis flinches and glances between the three remaining agents.  

“Where was she staying?” Hotch asks, his voice stoic and calm as ever. 

“I...I don’t know the address,” Lewis stammers. “But she said something about her uncle’s property. A cabin or a shed or something. Somewhere quiet where she could do what she needed. She didn’t tell me because she didn’t want me to interrupt her. She said that (Y/N) was hers.”

Hotch glances toward Emily, who nods and immediately steps out of the room, already pulling out her phone. The walk back to Garcia’s office wouldn't be long, but the quicker she can get the blond up to speed the quicker they could head out. 

“Garcia,” she says into the phone as she grabs Morgan’s arm, getting his attention. “We’ve got something else for you.” 

“Hit me, hot stuff.” 

“Tiffany told Lewis that she was taking (Y/N) to her uncle’s property,” Emily replies. “Somewhere secluded and private.” They can hear as Garcia begins to type and Emily bounces her feet, the silence only making her anxiety worse. She glances at Morgan and sees that he’s in not much of a better state. 

“Bingo,” Garcia finally breathes, and both Emily and Morgan stand up a bit straighter. “Uncle by marriage, Milton Reeves. He is a former Forest Service employee. He owns a thirty-acre patch up in Westville. And you are not gonna believe this—there’s a single-lane road, one entrance, one exit. Just trees, a half-collapsed shed, and satellite dead zones for days.”

“Send the coordinates,” Morgan says, moving back towards the interrogation room to grab the rest of the team. 

“Thank you, Garcia,” Emily says earnestly. 

“You bring her home.”

- - - - - - 

The cold is starting to sink deep into your bones. You’re barefoot, half naked, and shivering, but you’re not sure if the shake comes solely from the temperature or the adrenaline still coursing through your body. You’re not sure how long it has been, but the small window shows it’s still dark outside. You don’t have time to sit and count down the minutes or think about whether or not the woman is going to come back before morning. You need to find something, anything, that can help you get out of here.

The wrench is practically useless. It’s too big to be able to conceal and too small to do any real damage, even if you could. And the tape measure might come in handy if she gets close enough and you can be quick enough to wrap it around her neck. But again, without your clothes, you had no way of hiding it from her.

The paint bucket was a good option to keep in mind, but the chair caught your attention. It's plastic, but it has some weight to it. Maybe the legs are metal, maybe part of it is sand filled, you’re not sure. But when you lift it, move it around in your hands, it seems like it has just enough balance and heft to swing if you needed to. 

With potential defensive weapons out of the way, you make your way over to the door. You know that there are three locks. You could hear her turning them when she brought you in, so it’s no surprise when it does budge. You run your hands across it, maybe there was some way you could pick the locks…maybe the wire from the paint bucket can be bent into a key of sorts. But you only see one spot for a key. Even if you got it unlocked on this side, there were still two other locks she had locked from the outside. You groan in frustration and hit the door with your fist before taking a deep breath and trying to refocus. 

Before you get the chance to move over and find a way to pry the wire off of the paint bucket, you hear the crunch of gravel signalling someone's arrival. You move away from the door quickly, standing against the opposite wall. The chair and the bucket stay where you left them, giving you the barest hint of hope you might be able to make it out of here. 

The door creaks as the woman steps back in. Her eyes lock onto you as she closes the door behind her, before she glances down at the uneaten food she had left before. 

“You didn’t eat,” she says, her eyebrows furrowing as she stands by the untouched box she threw down earlier. 

“I had a big lunch,” you mutter, barely holding back your sarcasm. 

“Don’t lie to me,” she says as she moves closer. You notice the knife from earlier still gripped in her hand. “I told you I don’t want to have to hurt you.” 

“Then let me go.” 

"No." 

“Why not?” you ask, and she pauses. Her head tilts and she smiles. 

“Because I'm not done learning about you yet…” Her voice shifts into something quiet and sinister. “I’ve seen every part of your life. I’ve seen how you talk, how you interact with people. What and when you eat. How you sleep. But I’ve never seen those truly intimate moments.” She moves closer, but you don’t move. Any further and your back will be pressed against the wall

“You know you’re really picky. You’re so…. careful, it’s ridiculous really.” She looks at you like you’re prey. Like a hunter watches an unaware deer before going in for the kill, and something about it flashes in your memory. “In a world obsessed with hookup culture, you don’t let anybody touch you, do you?” 

Pilanka’s bar…

God, it was months ago now, a night you only barely remember, but that look, that feeling like she just wanted to take everything you could give, you couldn’t forget that if you wanted. You and your friends were out, celebrating one of several milestones in your lives, and you were drunk on tequila and laughter. One of your friends had pointed the woman out first, standing in the corner watching you, eyes never drifting far. It wasn’t uncommon for you to draw attention, but something about her, something about the way she did it, sobered you up. And when she finally approached, finally offered to buy you a drink, you declined and suggested that you and your friends call it a night, leaving shortly after. 

“I know you…” You say as the realization fully forms with the memory. She crosses her arms and smiles, slow and smug. 

“Took you long enough.” 

“You were watching me at the bar…that was…that was months ago…” Your chest gets tight.  You knew she was there, that she was watching you, but this feels different knowing just how close she had been. 

“You acted like I didn’t even exist.”

“Because you didn’t!” you say, your voice raising slightly. “You were a random creepy woman in a bar filled with hundreds of people, I didn’t owe you anything! I don’t owe you anything!” 

“But you can fuck the FBI agent?” she says with an unhinged laugh. “You’re so shallow (Y/N).” 

“I didn’t…” You start to defend yourself. Start to say that you hadn’t slept with Emily when another round of realization washed over you. “Oh my god… This isn’t because of Lewis, or some intrigue you have with me, or Emily…You’re doing all of this because you’re attracted to me.” Tiffany scoffs, but you can see her eyes darken. 

“You don’t want to admit it, do you?” You push on, and you can see the anger growing on her face, but for some reason, you don’t care anymore. You’re not thinking of the fact that she has the upper hand, that she has the knife, the power. But the realization of how absurd all of this really is has made you snap. “You’re not trying to learn more about me, you did all of this because you want me. What is it a confidence issue? You’re too insecure to talk to me like a normal person? Or what? You don’t want to admit that you find me attractive? Don’t want to admit that you're gay? …That’s it, isn’t it? You’ve been stalking me, you flew across the country,  you kidnapped me, all because of your internal homophobia? God you’re a fucking psycho.” 

Her hand snaps and grabs your hair, yanking hard, and pulling you towards the ground. You stumble, trying to keep yourself upright, but a swift kick to your ribs has you hitting the floor with a grunt. 

She’s on top of you in seconds, the knife flashing in her hand. 

You struggle beneath her, your main goal is to keep the knife in her hand as far away from your face as possible. You thrash, using your hands to hold her wrist and your legs to try and knock her off, but your thrashing is met with an equally aggressive attempt to pin you down.

Getting increasingly frustrated with the back and forth struggle on the ground, she slashes, and you take the moment of brief imbalance to twist underneath her and flip her off of you. It doesn’t give you much time, but you scramble across the floor, your eyes locking on the chair. 

You grab the legs as tightly as you can and spin, aiming it directly at her head. But your moment of hope is immediately ripped away when she dodges the swing and lunges at you again. The chair falls with a clatter out of your hands as she throws you back again, your head and shoulder screaming out again as they slam into the cold ground. 

But that’s when you see it. A gun tucked into the back of her pants as she lies on top of you. Has she had that the whole time? Doesn’t matter. 

Shifting your knee up, you hit her right in the gut, knocking the wind out. And as she pauses to reorient herself, you dive for the gun. 

Your hands close around the metal, and you nearly scream in triumph as you turn and aim it at her. You pull the trigger, not truly aiming to kill, just hoping you hit something. 

Click. 

Nothing. 

Your heart stops. 

You push yourself to stand. If you can’t figure out the gun, you can at least get as far away from the women while you still can. You turn the weapon over in your hands, tears burning in the back of your eyes as you see her standing up and grabbing the knife again. 

“The safety is still on,” Emily’s voice echoes in the back of your head. You look back down at the gun, fumbling with the switch as she rushes at you. You flip it off, raise the gun, and pull the trigger. 

Someone screams out…no, both of you scream out. God, Emily wasn’t kidding about that recoil. It shoots like lightning through your already injured shoulder, and the gun falls from your hands. It’s only afterwards that you hear her cries too. 

You hit her. 

She’s dropped to the ground, clutching at her thigh. Dark blood seeps through her jeans, and you stare, frozen in shock before your body kicks into gear. You scramble to your feet, hand clutching at your shoulder as you move over to the door. 

The first time you pull at the handle, nothing happens. No no no . You grit your teeth and yank again, and this time it gives

You barely make it through the door before something whistles by your ear. You hear it, you feel the heat of the bullet barely missing you. You don’t have time to chide yourself for leaving it where she could get to it. You just push forward and run. 

The same car she picked you up in is sitting at the top of a long road, a narrow stretch of dirt and gravel winding through the trees. You force your aching body forward, lungs burning with each breath and skin prickling against the cold night air. As soon as the woman gets to her feet, she’ll be after you. You have to keep moving forward. 

You break into a run, the gravel cutting at the bottoms of your feet. If she can get up and get to her car, she’ll be down the road in no time, hunting you. Stalking you. The thought alone makes your legs push a little harder. 

Over your breathing, you hear the hum of an engine, and your blood runs cold. There are no headlights, the thick brush and trees around the winding road make it hard to see much at all, but you can definitely hear the growl of tires on the ground.

You move off the road, ducking into the brush, heart hammering so loud it drowns out everything else. Crouched down behind the curtain of branches and leaves, you finally watch as the headlights appear and the car approaches…from the other direction…

Your breath catches. In the dark, you can’t tell what kind of car it is, but it looks big. Bigger than the one you came here in. It could be Lewis, or anybody else that the woman was working with. But it could be Emily…Derek…the team. If this is your one shot to make it out of here, then you weren’t going to just watch as it drove away. 

Before the thought even fully forms in your mind, your body is already standing up. You push through the brush again, moving closer to the road, but they don’t seem to be slowing. They don’t see you. You make a split-second decision and step into the road, directly into the road, your good arm raised as you nearly stumble into the view of the headlights. 

Tires screech, and the car slams to a stop just a few feet away from you. You move your hand to shield your eyes from the bright beam before whoever is in the passenger seat dims them, and you can finally see who is inside. Your knees nearly give out as you watch them jump out of the passenger seat. 

“Derek,” you whisper, your voice small and cracked. 

“Oh my god,” you hear him say as he slams the door behind him and moves over to you. You meet him halfway and nearly throw yourself against him, your face buried into his chest as you hold him as tight as possible. He doesn’t reciprocate the hug at first, but then you feel as he takes his jacket off and drapes it over your shoulders. With you now covered, he pulls you in tighter, the warmth of his jacket and his arms soothing and breaking something all at once. He cradles your head like you’re made of glass, burying his face into your no doubt dirty and matted hair. You feel the tremor in him, too. 

“(Y/N),” he sighs in relief, and a sob catches in your throat. 

“I didn’t think…” You start to say, but he just shushes you, hearing the shake of your words. He pulls back just enough to look at you and places both hands on the side of your face. 

“(Y/N), where is she?” he asks gently. Though his voice and eyes are soothing, you can see the tension in his face. “The woman who took you, Tiffany. Where is she?” You point vaguely up the road. 

“It was a shed I…I shot her…I don’t…I don’t know if she followed me. I just…ran.” 

“Alright...alright, babygirl, good job,” he says, pulling you close again. He nods to whoever else is in the car, and you hear as they all get out and start to head up the road, but you don’t pull your head away again. You cling to Derek like your life depends on it. He lets out a long breath and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. 

“I got you,” he whispers over and over like a prayer. “I got you, baby, you're safe. You’re safe.”

Chapter Text

Your second borrowed outfit of the day is a lot less comfortable than the first, making you miss Emily’s clothes. Technically, it’s not even still the same day, but time feels weird right now. And, honestly, you’re not really sure that it can be considered an outfit. 

Derek hadn’t given you much of a choice about going to the hospital. No matter how many times you insisted that you were fine, he didn’t listen. He practically picked you up to put you in the car and bring you here. 

Stubborn as ever, you had refused the gown they offered you, which would’ve left your whole backside out. But the too-thin scrubs that they had given you weren’t much better. You kept Derek’s jacket draped around you, though, a small familiar comfort in the chaos that has been the last 12 hours. 

“When can we go home?” You ask him as he walks back into your room. He lets out a breath, sitting on the edge of your bed and pulling you into his side. It’s awkward and a little uncomfortable with your arm in a sling, but you don’t fight it. You melt into him.

Nothing was torn or broken, at least you don’t think so. But it still hurts when you move it, so the sling is there more for your comfort than anything else. Truthfully, you hadn’t been listening much when they were examining you. Your head was somewhere else…still in that shed…still with Tiffany. You can practically see her in front of you now, still looking at you like you are less than human. Like you were just something for her to play with. Even as they slid the sling over you after the MRI, you barely registered it. 

“They want to keep you for a few more hours,” He says, reaching a hand up and gently detangling your hair with his fingers. “Just to observe you. Make sure they didn’t miss anything, especially anything with your head.”

At this, he playfully ruffles your hair, no doubt creating more knots than he had gotten out. But you don’t mind much. You’re just grateful that he’s here. That they found you. That Lewis and Tiffany were going to be where they could never get to you again. 

“Derek…” you say with a light laugh as you swat his hand away.

“Hey, let me have this,” he says, easing up and working to undo the tangles again. “I was worried about you, kid.”

You sigh and lean into his side again, hearing the truth in his words. You let him have this for a moment. You let yourself have it, too, this peace. The two of you sitting there with nothing but the low hum of hospital noise around you. 

And then his phone dings. 

He leans away as he pulls it out of his back pocket, and you sit up. His eyes flick over the phone as he reads the notification. It must have been a text, or something important, because he clears his throat once before putting his phone away and puts it back into his pocket. 

“What was that?” you ask, eyes running over his face. 

“Nothing.” He brushes it off with a shrug. 

“Derek…”

“It was just Emily,” he admits, and your stomach twists at her name. 

“No.” 

“(Y/N)...” His voice softens, that persuasive tone he uses when he’s trying to negotiate, but you slide away from him.

“No, Derek, I told you I don’t want visitors. I don’t want to see anybody from your team.”

“Not even Emily?” 

You hesitate. Your chest tightens a bit. You want to see her, hear her voice, feel her arms around you. But you can’t. 

Every time you think about her, your brain pulls up Tiffany’s face, her voice. The things she said, the way it felt when she touched you. It makes your skin crawl. 

You shake your head. 

“No. Just you, Derek,” you insist. “Just for right now. Ok?” He watches you for a moment before he nods. 

“Okay. Anything you want.” 

“Thank you.” You lean back into him again, and he sighs, the two of you falling into silence again. 

“You know you could’ve told me,” he says softly. 

“What?” 

“About Emily. About how close you two had gotten.” 

“You nearly bit both of our heads off when she took me to breakfast,” you say, looking up at him. “And then you blew up when you found out that I kissed her.” 

“Well, yeah,” he admits. “I was worried. When you went to breakfast, neither of you told me where you were going. You just disappeared. And then when they sent me that picture. I couldn’t believe that this stalker knew more about not only my baby sister and my partner than I did.” You scoff and let out a half laugh. 

“You know that is not really the reason.”

“Ok, ok,” he relents, grinning a little. “I might’ve overreacted. Only a little bit. But I apologize.” 

“Apology accepted.” 

“She was really worried about you, you know,” he continues. “She blamed herself for letting Tiffany grab you.” You take a breath, but it gets stuck halfway. 

“I’ll talk to her,” you say. “Just…not yet.” 

“Good,” he nods. “But you need to do it before you go back to school.” You blink, caught off guard for a moment. School had been the last thing on your mind, and having reality suddenly brought back into focus is a little jarring. 

“You are going back, right?” he asks, hearing your moment of silence. “If you don’t feel up to it, I get it. Mom might not, but I can talk to her about it.” 

“No, no,” you murmur. “I’m going back.” 

“Good. Let me know if you need anything. I can talk to your professors or the dean, maybe. Get you some extensions, see if they will cut you some slack. I can be really convincing when I use my FBI voice.”  

“I appreciate it,” you say, making no attempt to keep the skepticism out of your voice. “But I think I can handle a few professors.” 

“Trust me, I know you can. But come on. Intimidation is like my whole job between being your big brother and an agent.”

“Knowing you, you’ll mess around and get me kicked out instead.” 

The two of you laugh at the thought, the weight of your circumstances lifting every so slightly in the room. It feels a little easier to breathe as the laughter settles and you sit, Derek’s jacket draped around you with your head on his shoulder, protected and safe. 

“I’ll talk to Emily,” you say in a light breath. “As soon as I get out of here.”

“I’ll hold you to that, kid.”  

- - - - - - 

“How is she?” Emily asks. 

She’s pacing. She’s been pacing since the team got back. Lewis is still sitting in the interrogation room while they figure out what to do with him. Tiffany was taken to the hospital hours ago, some local officers posted outside of her room while she got treated for the gunshot wound….wounds. After she heals, she’s going straight to jail, but if Emily had it her way, she would be heading six feet under. 

Emily keeps replaying it in her head. She had been the one driving when they found (Y/N). She nearly ran her over when she jumped out into the road. It took a second for her to realize what, no, who she was looking at. By the time it finally registered, Morgan was already out of the car. 

Emily watched as he peeled his jacket off, wrapping it around (Y/N)’s shoulders. He pulled her against his chest, his large frame and the too big jacket shielding her away from the world around the two of them. 

Emily wanted to run up to them. A small part of her wanted to pull (Y/N) out of his arms so she could see her fully for herself. Make sure she was still whole. But she didn’t move, didn’t dare interrupt their moment. Besides, she had to kill Tiffany first. 

She and the rest of the team headed up the road at Morgan’s signal. When they got to the top, seeing a clearing and a small shed, that’s where they found Tiffany. She was limping to the car parked next to the shed, and Emily could see the blood all over her pants and hands. A jolt of pride shot through her, knowing that (Y/N) had done some damage before she got away, but it didn’t last long. 

When Tiffany saw the team coming, she raised a gun, but Emily was quicker. The shot hit Tiffany in the forearm, sending the gun flying. Emily’s finger stayed on the trigger. She was itching to send another bullet Tiffany’s way, this one hitting her square between her eyes, but Hotch stepped in front of her before she got the chance. 

The ambulance had already taken (Y/N) to the hospital by the time Emily and the team made it back down the road. And now Morgan was saying that she didn’t want any visitors. Emily had to respect her decision, but god was it killing her. 

“She’s ok,” Morgan finally says, his voice mixing with the faint echo of hospital monitors. “She has a concussion, and she is in a sling for a little bit. Overall, minor bumps and bruises, but the doctors say she can recover at home.” Emily finally stops pacing and lets out a long breath it feels as if she has been holding for ages. 

“Thank god. Do you think…” She starts to say, but then second guessing herself, she trails off. 

“Yeah,” Morgan says, as if reading her mind. “You can come see her. They are discharging her now. I need to swing by and pick up Clooney, but we should be back at my place in an hour.” 

“Good. Goog, great. I’ll meet you there.” 

“But Emily,” Morgan says before she can pull the phone away from her ear. “She’s still a little shaken up, mentally. She hasn’t told me anything, but I can tell. She may not…act the same. You know?”

“What do you mean?” 

“I don’t know how else to say it, but she’d been…tense and jumpy. Like she’s still scared of everyone around her. When we first got here, she barely even let the nurses touch her.” Emily’s stomach twists. 

“What did Tiffany do to her?” She asks, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“She hasn’t said, but you know how we found her, Em.” His voice drops too, not wanting anyone around him to hear. “She took her clothes… we know what we profiled…” 

Emily brings her fingers to her mouth. She doesn’t want to think about it. Doesn’t want to imagine what could’ve happened in that shed before they found you. 

“Right, I understand. I’ll see you in a bit.” 

- - - - - - 

You sit in the back of Derek’s car with Clooney, his wet tongue lapping at your hand every time you try to pet him. It’s as if nothing bad has ever happened in the world, at least not in his mind. You can’t help but smile. 

Derek keeps glancing at you in the rearview mirror. Almost as if he’s scared, or still worried. He looks as if he thinks somehow this big fluff of a dog could hurt you. As if even the air around you is too much for you to handle. You don’t meet his eyes, you just scratch behind Clooney’s ears as he climbs halfway into your lap. 

Going back to Derek’s apartment wasn’t the most ideal plan. Tiffany, or maybe Lewis. You’re honestly still not sure who was responsible for what. But one of them had been here. They had watched you here. The whole place feels tainted. 

But where else could you go? Derek’s, Emily’s, the Bureau, your campus. Everywhere you know is somewhere they have touched, and a part of you thinks you’re going to have to live with that thought for the rest of your life. Was anywhere truly safe anymore? 

Clooney bolts out as soon as the door opens with an excitement you can’t match. Derek has to run after the unleashed dog, and you trudge after them. Derek keeps trying to stop, to wait to let you catch up, but the dog has other plans, and honestly, you don’t mind if they walk ahead. 

The exhaustion hits you as you walk into the familiar apartment. Though everything feels different, it’s all so perfectly the same, and the first thing you want to do is shower. Wash away the last year of torment. 

You try to scrub the feelings off. The cold, the fear, the memories, but your good arm tires too fast, your other still aching despite the pain meds they had given you. After a while, you give up trying to get yourself any cleaner and instead just let the scalding water rush over you until you go numb. 

There’s a special relief when you finally step out from under the spray and can pull your own clothes on. The familiar fit, feel, style, and smell make you feel just a little bit like the girl you were before all of this. 

You throw your sling back on and open the door, ready to collapse anywhere, the couch, the bed, the floor, wherever you get to first. But you stop cold when you see Emily sitting next to Derek in the living room. 

They both stand when you walk in, their eyes locked on you. That look Derek had earlier must be contagious because Emily is wearing the same one. Like you’re a glass relic, and a gust of wind too strong might cause you to shatter.

The small sense of safety, that soft numbness you had built during your shower, quickly falls away, leaving feelings as cold as you did in the shed despite the hoodie clinging to your body. 

“(Y/N),” Emily says in a breath of relief, her lips finally pulling into a hint of a smile. She steps forward, moving as if to pull you into a hug, but she stops short, instead placing her hands on your upper arms. “I am so glad that you’re ok. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok,” is all you manage to say, even though nothing really feels like it is. And she knows it. 

Derek must sense it too, because he excuses himself. Grabs the leash and mumbles how he needs to take Clooney on a walk. It’s a terrible excuse. The dog sitter told you both when you picked him up that Clooney had just been out. But you’re grateful for the privacy when the door closes behind him 

With the two of you alone, Emily’s eyes sweep over you. Analyzing and observing every part of you that she can see, as if trying to find any injuries that the doctors may have missed. Her eyes land on your sling, and her thumb runs across your arm before he hand moves higher. Her fingers brush across your sore shoulder so lightly that they are barely there. 

Your breath stutters as you feel the ghost of her touch. It’s too familiar…too much like…

You shake the thoughts out of your head as you look up to meet her eye. Her hand moves again, this time coming to brush your cheek instead. She says nothing, you don’t either, and the silence is thick and heavy. Suffocating. 

“Are you ok?” She finally asks, voice soft. You nod, but it feels like a lie, everything finally starting to press on you. 

The hand that’s not on your cheek slides to your waist, and she moves a half step closer. You can feel the warmth of her so close to you, and you want to sink into it, but your mind flashes back to when Tiffany’s hand was in the same place. You’re cold again. 

Your stomach lurches and you pull away from Emily, screwing your eyes shut. 

“I’m sorry,” Emily says quickly, her hands falling away from you. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…” You shake your head, holding up a hand towards Emily, eyes still closed. You needed to get that woman out of your head. You can't just let her win like this. 

“(Y/N)” she says, her voice low as she takes hold of your outstretched hand. At the feel of her touch on your palm, you open your eyes. As she intertwines your fingers and gives your hand a gentle squeeze and you look up at her face again.  

“Just focus on me,” Emily whispers, moving close again. She holds your gaze with her warm brown eyes, so steady it seems to ground you. Her thumb is drawing circles on your hand, and you can feel the rhythmic rise and fall of her breath. “It’s me, (Y/N). It’s just me, you’re safe." 

A tear falls before you can stop it, and you try to blink it away, but you don’t break her gaze. 

“I’m so sorry,” she says again, her voice lighter than anything you’ve heard before. Something about it, something about her, makes something snap. 

Your body folds, your knees giving out on you. Emily catches you, arms wrapping around you as you collapse against her. She stumbles with the force of it, the two of you sinking onto the floor. 

You cry like you haven’t wanted to, big, shaking sobs. She holds you, arms cradling your head and back, murmuring words you can’t decipher but that soothe you all the same. You’re not sure how long the two of you two sit like that, your body curled into Emily as her warmth meets the rawness you still feel inside. But it’s long enough for the exhaustion to double, for your body to start to ache again. 

When you pull away, your face burns, and embarrassment washes over you at the thought of Emily seeing you so broken. You go to dry your face, cleaning it up in any way you can, but Emily’s hands are already there. Her touch is soft and careful as she wipes away the tears still lingering under your eyes and on your cheeks. 

When your face is as clean as it’s going to get, she leans in and presses a light, lingering kiss to your forehead. The soft kiss to your forehead is followed by an equally tender kiss, her lips brushing yours quick and gentle. It should feel wrong, completely out of place in this moment, but it doesn’t. 

You close the distance and second time in a longer, more desperate kiss. There’s nothing gentle, it’s all need and desperation. You need her, and she knows it. She holds you tighter, kisses you deeper, not planning on letting go any time soon.

Chapter Text

“Come on… “ Emily says, eventually, as she carefully untangles herself from you. Her arms stay close, though, steadying you as she pulls you to stand. Your body feels heavier than it should, but your head starts to clear. 

“I need to talk to you,” you say, but your voice cracks, coming out raw and thick. 

“I know,” Emily says, running a soothing hand over your back. “But not right now, ok? You should rest.” 

You should refuse. Force this moment, take this moment to talk and figure things out. You needed to talk to her about whatever this thing is between the two of you, about school, about everything. But your tears have drained you, and the guest bed is soft, and Emily’s arms are warm. Before the decision is fully made in your head, you’re nodding, and Emily is leading you towards the bedroom.

“Can we take this off?” She asks as she turns to you, her fingers brushing against your neck as she reaches for the sling. 

“I don’t know…” You say genuinely. “I took it off to shower.” 

“Well, just in case…” she says, pulling it over your head. “I won’t tell anybody.” 

She busies herself with the bed next, pulling back the covers for you and fluffing the pillows. Once everything is in place, she guides you to sit, and then tucks the covers around you. As she finishes, she hesitates, her hand lingering on your shoulder. 

“Do you want me to stay?” she asks gently, and you immediately move to protest. 

“Emily, it’s the middle of the day. You probably have better stuff to…” 

“Do you want me to stay?” Emily cuts you off, her voice firmer this time. And you nod. 

She doesn’t hesitate, climbing in beside you, settling behind you like she has done it a hundred times before. The warmth and comfort her body brings is immediate. It’s seamless, as if the two of you were meant to fit together this way. 

You are vaguely aware of the front door opening and closing, signaling Derek’s return, but you don’t care. Emily’s fingers trace circles on your side, and sleep pulls at you almost immediately. Her hand moves from your side to your stomach, repositioning you to pull you closer to her, and you let out a sigh as you fall asleep comfortably in her arms. 

You’re out before Derek pops his head in, so you don’t see the sharp warning in his eyes when he sees the way Emily is holding you. You don’t see the way she brushes him off or the tears that form in her eyes when he leaves again. You don’t feel the soft kiss she presses to your temple or hear the apologies that she whispers for having been there. For letting you get taken

You don’t hear her admit for the first time that she might be falling in love with you. 

When you wake up a while later, the bed is cold, and Emily is gone. Your body aches, and your shoulders are stiff and sore. But just because Emily isn’t there anymore, doesn’t mean you’re alone. 

“Hotch called her into the office,” Derek says as you begin to blink your eyes open, like he knows exactly what your first question is going to be. He is sitting next to the bed in a chair he pulled out of the kitchen, spinning his phone in his hand like he does when he gets bored. “The team is already on thin ice with our bosses, we couldn’t have two agents out at the same time.” 

You hum in acknowledgement as you yawn and wipe the sleep out of your eyes.

“But I mean if you want, she can come back and I can go in,” he says, and the hint of teasing you hear in his voice makes our eyes pop open. 

“What?” 

“I mean…” he starts to say, and he is already laughing. “You two seemed pretty comfortable in bed earlier. And I love you, but there are certain boundaries that I won’t cross.” 

“Shut up,” you groan, burying your face in your pillow as your face heats up. He laughs, reaching over to poke you in the ribs. Brothers will be brothers, apparently even after you’ve been kidnapped. 

“What? I’m not allowed to tease my little sister anymore?” He continues to laugh as you raise your head again to roll your eyes at him. 

“You’re lucky I don’t hit you right now,” you say as you sit up and stretch the tiredness and pain out of your body. 

“I’d like to see you try.” He pokes your side again, and you swat his hand away, sticking your tongue out at him. 

The childish, playful banter lifts your spirits for a moment, and it feels nice. It reminds you of the way things used to be, when it seemed like it was just him and you against the world. Before everything got so…complicated. 

“Did you get a chance to talk to her before you crawled into bed together?” Morgan continues, his laughter and reading finally dying down. 

“I tried,” you say as he sits back in the chair. “She told me to rest.” 

“She was right… You need it.” He pauses, his eyes scanning your body as you see his face shift into something closer to worry. “How’s the shoulder?”

“Fine… sore. I can’t really lift it too much without it hurting… I couldn’t wash my hair.” He hums, leaning forward as if inspecting the flecks of dirt and knots still in your hair. 

“Mom can help you with it when she gets here,” he says nonchalantly, but your stomach drops and your head whips over to him. 

“Derek…you didn’t….” 

“She needed to know,” he interrupts you, holding his hands up defensively. “And before you start freaking out, I’ll be here to mediate the whole time. Ok?” 

“Right…” you say with a sigh as you lean back on the pillow again. There’s no winning this fight. She was probably already on a flight. And you are going to need all of the rest you can get before having to deal with your mother. 

- - - - - - 

“Did she really seem ok?” Garcia asks, sitting on Emily’s desk. JJ and Reid are there too, the whole team worried about (Y/N). 

“Physically, she was ok,” Emily starts to say, but she pauses, shaking her head. “But mentally…I mean, we’ve all been in these situations, and we are agents who are trained for it. It’s going to take her a while to fully get over it.” 

“Did she tell you what happened?” JJ asks, her voice light, curious but not pushy. 

“Tiffany still isn’t talking?” Emily asks, and Reid shakes his head. “Well,” Emily continues. “(Y/N) was asleep pretty much the whole time I was there, so neither of us really said much at all.” 

“So you guys didn’t…you know…talk?” Garcia asks. 

“Garcia, now is not the time for a 'What are we' conversation?” 

“Then when is?” 

“When she’s better,” Emily insists. 

“And back at school? Back in another state?” JJ asks. 

Emily hesitates, the thought that (Y/N) isn’t here to stay hadn’t even crossed her mind. That she didn't have all the time in the world to figure out her rapidly growing affection. But she couldn’t say anything while she was still recovering…could she?