Prologue
Emily

"We have to." She says plainly trying to meet your gaze.

"I know." You answer, nodding slowly, fixing your gaze far into the distance. And you do know.

"They are family."

"I know."

Her reasons differ from yours. She misses them, she needs them. You? Just need her. You realise she is right, you have to go back. It's not because they are family and you need them or owe it to them. It's not for the sake of your career. It's not even for her, not because she wants it from you. But it's simply because

you know

they will

never stop

until they find you.

You know how it will become an obsession to your team. Two of their own disappearing into thin air. How important you will become to them. Not as a person, but as a victim, as an unsolved case. How their frustration and anger will grow day by day. The thought of your team giving you so much attention and thought disarms you. If you go back, what's the worst that can happen? You might lose your job, the respect of your team, your place in their world. Life will go on. You still have her.

She looks to you expectantly, you shrug your shoulders in response, not sure what she is asking of you. You're here, aren't you? That's all you've got to give for the moment. These last weeks have pushed your mind to the limit, thinking, planning, hiding. It's over now. You give up. You relinquish control to her. Let her play out the ending the way she needs to.

She cradles the pay phone in her hands hesitantly. You try to remember the last time you had used a pay phone? Had you ever? You hear your mothers voice in the back of your mind telling you not to touch the filthy object.

"Who?" she asks.

"Hotch." You answer. It has to be.

You're grateful as she starts dialling. You didn't want to be the one. But at the same time, you knew it was your responsibility. You wouldn't blame her if she shoved the receiver into you hands, demanding 'Go on, call them.' She should challenge you, 'Tell them what you've done Emily. Face the music.' But she didn't. You loved her for that. She picked up that filthy pay phone, picked up the responsibility, and poised her fingers to dial.

It is that which makes you swallow your irritation and reply to her when she questions you " What do I say?"

It grates on your nerves the way she hesitates, turns to you her hands slightly shaking, eyes full of doubt. 'Just do it for heavens sake JJ' You want to tell her. But you hold your tongue.

You shrug in response to her question and she stands still for a few moments. Finally you utter "Ask him to meet us."

"Where?" She wants to know. And you feel the irritation rising again.

You survey your surroundings, the bustling people, the noise of the commuters at the busy train station, it was somehow comforting.

"Here?" You suggest.

She nods. It's not like either of you have a cent to get someplace else. It would have to be here.

"Tell him to come alone." You add.

"Sir?" You hear her childlike hesitant voice, laden with guilt, as she speaks into the phone. Hotch would pick up on that guilt. It would make him wonder. You should have been the one to call. But it's too late now.

You deliberately step back, not wanting to hear the words he speaks on the other end of the line.

"Yes I'm fine." You hear her say into the phone. "Yes she is fine too…It's a long story."

You listen half heartedly as she tells him the details of the meeting place. Platform 7. Half an hour. You can't stand still, fidgeting like a restless child. You catch a glimpse of your appearance in the reflection of the glass phone booth. You reach instinctively to smooth your hair. She stops you. Yes, you realise, better to look as dishevelled as possible. Maybe he will go easier on you. You look to her, she looks as bad as you feel. Pale, listless, utterly exhausted, pushed to the limit. You want to take her in your arms, sleep, hide away from the rest of the world, drive away all the ghastly things haunting you both tonight.

What you've done is unforgivable, you know. And you want to run. Gutless you are Emily Prentiss. You would have run too, coward. If not for her. You saw how hard these last days had been on her. You hadn't the heart to challenge her further, which is why you complied obediently with her request. 'Emily, We have to go home.' And for the first time in your life you didn't stop to think 'Home? Where is that?' For the first time in your life, you knew.

JJ

She'd been beside you only moment ago, and then, suddenly, she stopped. Dead in her tracks. Causing you to almost stumble as you turned to face her behind you. You felt anger rising frustrated. She had promised. Now she was stalling. You glance to your watch anxiously. Only minutes to go before Hotch would be at the platform you had arranged to meet him. Your heart is racing. Sure it wasn't going to be pleasant, but you want to get it over with. The thought of her leaving you to face the interrogation alone made your blood boil. She wouldn't? Would she?

You look into her eyes, seeing a brief flash of fear mingled with something else you can't recognise. It vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. And in its place was a familiar hard expression. Not quite blank, but meaningless. This strong mask she hid behind. Away from the real world these last weeks you had almost forgotten what that mask looked like.

At first you'd been suspicious of this unshakeable strength she displayed, this amazing woman who could stare the darkest horror in the face and never flinch. It was unnerving. It was downright disturbing.

As time went on you came to admire it. You wished yourself could be so strong, so collected, in control. You felt somehow weak compared to her.

And now, you despised that mask, and everything it stood for. It was false. It hurt you that she felt she had to keep up this act. You wanted to scream at her that she didn't have to put up those walls with you.

You never quite figured out how she did it, how she compartmentalised everything so completely. The only thing you now knew was that it came at a great cost. To her, and to you.

But today, right in this moment, you were grateful for her remarkable, yet alarming, composure. You didn't think you could take seeing the look in her eyes, your reaction would have betrayed everything. You would probably cry as it was, the others would expect it. You'd have no control over it. But if you saw her break, that would be the end. You wouldn't be able to maintain even the slightest bit of control, and somehow the whole story would come tumbling out. Somehow those profilers would look deep into your mind with those insidious eyes, and see every last deep secret. It frightened you being discovered like that, not as much as it frightened her, but it frightened you too. You knew you stood no chance on your own against them, but you had her on your side. You stood more than a chance of getting away with this.

You want to take her hand. But it's out of the question. You cursed those ridiculous protocols and rules that forced you to keep your relationship hidden. It's not that they didn't know, you figured most of the team had some sort of idea. It's just that you couldn't afford to flaunt it. Especially not now you were in such a huge mess already. Any hope of salvaging you career or Emily's would be thrown away. It didn't seem to matter much to you anymore. But you believed somehow that her career mattered more to her than anything.

You knew the awkward position you'd put the team in. Knew how frightened they must have been. Knew how disappointed they would be. Knew they'd need answers. You didn't want to lie to them. But you'd promised Emily that there were things you would never tell. You'd given in to her on that point, afraid what she would do if it wasn't on her terms. She didn't want to come back at all. And you admitted that sometimes it really seemed easier to follow her suggestion to just disappear. Never have to go back and face the things that happened.

You knew your job was pretty safe. Emily had friends in high places. Well not really friends. Connections. You knew that somehow this could get swept under the rug, no questions asked, without any real professional ramifications. But the team wouldn't let it go like that. You couldn't expect them to. That was the part that scared you.

"What do you think they are thinking? Where do they think we've been?" She asks.

You shrug. Honestly you have no idea. Guilt rips through you at the thought of what you put the others through. You disappeared without a trace. How that would have frustrated them. Enraged them. Frightened them.

It frightened you more than a little, that it was so easy to disappear. That they hadn't found you. How was it possible to hide from the top profilers in the world? Perhaps only possible because you were hiding with one of them.

You feel Emily's body tense next to you, and look up.

"So much for 'come alone.'" She mumbles. It takes you a minute to understand what she means, as you look up and see Hotch alone walking towards you. But as you scan the scene you see the others, Morgan, Reid, Garcia. All in disguise. All armed you notice. It almost makes you laugh at the absurdity, it's like a scene from a very bad crime movie. And you realise once again, this is going to be impossible to explain.