❝What is to give light must endure burning.❞

VIKTOR E. FRANKL

✩

1.9 : project lazarus

OR

season 7, episode 1 : it takes a village 

IT'S COLD IN THE SENATE HEARING CHAMBERS. Fin wishes she'd brought a jacket of some kind, despite it being nearly 100 degrees outside. Not to mention the fact that she's unused to the large gold hoops in her ears and the brand new pencil skirt that she didn't have time to break in. All in all, Fin's uncomfortable, even before the asshole in the center of the panel starts grilling her.

 "SSA Hazel Finley." The chairman, an older white man with gray hair and rude eyes–Cramer is his name, Fin remembers–glances down at the papers in front of him. "You've been a part of the BAU since 2008, is that correct?"

"Yes, sir." Fin nods.

"You completed your SSA training in 2010?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you joined the BAU straight out of the Academy." Cramer raises his eyebrows. "From agent-in-training to SSA in two years. That's an impressive resumé, Agent Finley."

"Thank you, sir." Fin's aware of this fact. Obviously.

"But we're not here to talk about your resumé." Cramer's tone changes from flattering to purposeful. "We're here to talk about the unorthodox, if not entirely illegal, actions of your team over the past three months. SAC Hotchner and SSA Reid–"

"Uh, it's Dr. Reid," Fin corrects him without thinking, and then flushes a little. "Sir."

"Dr. Reid–" Cramer glares at her over the top of his papers– "Both of them were away from the team for a period of time, as you were. What was your reason?"

"Personal. I had family business to attend to."

"What sort of family business?"

"The private sort, sir, and the sort that has no correlation to the issues you'd like to discuss today."

Cramer narrows his eyes at her, but continues anyway. "But you and Dr. Reid returned to the team after about a month, is this correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why is that?"

"They needed our help."

"But neither you nor Dr. Reid have requested reinstatement after your suspicion. Why?"

Fin takes a deep breath. Pauses for a moment. "I'm...considering all my options."

"You are certainly coveted by many departments of the FBI, not to mention other government agencies," Cramer says, glancing down at the file in front of him. "You were offered positions in the Domestic Trafficking Task Force, the Nationwide SAR Initiative, and the National Counterterrorism Center, as well as others, correct?"

"Yes, I was."

"And despite these offers, you remained with the BAU during this investigation."

"Like I said, they needed me."

"So you agree with Agent Jareau, that there was no time to involve the CIA or Homeland Security in this case, that it all had to be handled in-house?" Cramer asks, narrowing his brows discerningly.

"I do." Fin nods, exhaling shakily.

"And you fully support the use of government funds and manpower for a personal vendetta such as this?"

"Ian Doyle was not a personal vendetta. He had terrorist connections across the globe and his kill list was extensive." Fin leans forward, into the microphone. "Justice was served, sir, and that was our main goal. But I won't pretend I didn't enjoy it a little."

"What do you mean by that, Agent?" Cramer asks, frowning. "Please explain yourself."

So Fin does.

What she does tell them: That four and a half months ago, Ian Doyle murdered SSA Emily Prentiss in Boston. She was declared dead. Fin and the rest of the BAU grieved the loss of their coworker and friend. Three months ago, SSA Jennifer Jareau rejoined the team after a stint at the Department of Defense, and Fin, Dr. Spencer Reid, and SAC Aaron Hotchner took time away, all for different reasons. Hotch was on assignment in Pakistan, Spencer needed time away to think, and Fin had family business to attend to. In their absence, the team, led by interim SAC Derek Morgan, re-opened the search for Ian Doyle, following his arms contacts and monitoring his assumed final target: Declan, his son.

But there's a lot more that Fin doesn't tell them.

Not lying. Omitting. There's a difference.

Like she said, it's none of their business.

And anyway, that's not what Senator John Cramer wants her to talk about.

He wants to break up the BAU.

And Fin's not about to let that happen.

Not after the past three months.

June 15, 2011

One Month Earlier

"Hotch is coming back?" Fin raises her eyebrows, adjusting the phone on her shoulder as she runs the knife around the edge of the cake pan carefully. "I thought he wasn't supposed to be back until the fall."

"He's coming early," Morgan replies quietly. "We need him here."

"Why?"

"Garcia and I found Declan Doyle."

The knife clatters to the floor, a loud clang against the tile. Fin's jaw drops. "You're serious?"

"I am."

"Have you told the team yet?"

"Yes, but Doyle found him, too, and we need to move fast. That's why we need Hotch. We need as many hands on deck as we can get, Fin."

"You want Spencer and I back, right?" Fin sighs, leaning against the kitchen counter and running a hand through her hair.

"Look, I know the past few months haven't been easy, but the minute this Doyle thing is over, it's gonna get better. I won't force anything, but–"

"Derek, I want that son of a bitch dead. I don't want him in prison."

Morgan exhales loudly into the phone speaker. "Me too, mama. Me, too."

Fin reaches down and tosses the knife into the sink, staring at the steaming chocolate cake sitting on the stove, untouched. Then she sighs again. "I'll be in at seven tomorrow."

"And Reid?"

"I'll see what I can do, but I can't promise anything."

"Thanks, Fin. Have a good night."

It doesn't take much convincing. Spencer's drenched in sweat, shirt rolled up to his elbows, only returning from the shooting range because they closed, and the minute Fin mentions Doyle's name, he nods fervently. "I'll drive."

"Spence, are you sure?" Fin crosses her arms over her chest, taking a step closer to him. He really struggled after JJ came back; having her around was just a reminder of everything they'd lost. They both needed time away to process their emotions, and thankfully, the team was able to manage without them.

"I'm sure," Spencer says, running a hand through his hair. It's shorter than it used to be, but Fin's a big fan of the new look. "I need something to think about other than–than Emily."

Fin knows how he feels: Sitting around, doing nothing, and your brain immediately goes to everything you tried to get away from. She's been there before.

"Are the cravings getting better?" She walks over to him and wraps her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest, not caring about the fact that he's sweaty or has gunpowder residue on his hands. "Is the breathing helping?"

"Yeah." Spencer sighs into her hair, resting his chin on top of her head gently. "Yeah, I think so."

"Hey, talk to me. Are they really getting better or are you just saying that?"

"They are, honestly." Spencer pulls away, looking down at her, his eyes dark and serious. "They're not...completely gone, but I'm managing. I'm okay."

"Okay." Fin stands up on her tiptoes and kisses him gently, leaning into him for a brief moment before pulling away. "Remember I'm always here. I promise."

"I know." Spencer smiles softly, and he kisses her again, cupping her face in his hands and pulling away, his forehead resting on hers. "I'm gonna go take a shower."

Fin watches him head down the hall to the bathroom, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She's a little worried about him; when he told her through tears one night he'd been craving Dilaudid again, she realized everything was more real than she thought. She met Spencer after he got sober, but drug addiction is serious and it's easy to relapse after something like this.

But going back to work will be good for both of them. Like Spencer said, now they can focus on something important, rather than dwelling on the past. Or in Fin's case, on Lars. On Esther.

Even though Lars is in a safe house not ten miles away, guarded by a tight rotation of agents, Fin still worries. Now that Esther knows she's back in the country, it's only a matter of time before she makes her move. But sending Lars back to Germany isn't an option. If Esther knew she came back, she certainly knew she was gone.

All they have to do now is hope she makes a mistake.

June 16, 2011

"I don't like this." Fin chews on her lip anxiously, watching the road as Rossi turns right, down a secluded suburban road. "It feels off."

"I agree, but we can't wait," Rossi says, leaning around Spencer to read house numbers. "Declan's vulnerable. Every minute we waste on procedure is another minute Doyle has to get to him. Reid, call JJ. Let her know where we are."

Spencer nods, pulls out his phone. Rossi stops the car, directly in front of a large house at the end of the street. The lights are off. It is late in the evening, but at least the agents stationed to watch Declan should be awake.

"We can't find him," Spencer says into his phone, opening Fin's car door, staring up at the house. "The headmaster said Declan got sick and went home." A pause. "We're already here." Another pause. "Their car's out front."

Rossi frowns, and his hand moves instinctively to his holster. "The lights are off."

"Yeah, I know." Fin pulls out her gun, gesturing for Rossi to go ahead of her, her heart already pounding in her chest.

"I'll call you back." Spencer hangs up, shoving his phone into his pocket, unholstering his own gun and flashlight, and hurries up the front steps. He pauses, listens at the door, and then opens it. Fin's right on his heels, turning to her right as Spencer faces the left, and Rossi brings up the rear.

The house is unnaturally quiet. There should be conversation, at least whispered. Declan is asleep, surely, but the nanny and the two agents wouldn't have gone to bed yet. So something must be wrong.

Their flashlight beams flit across the walls and windows, flashing eerily. Fin shivers, despite the fact that it's warm in the house. No AC... They cut the power. She holds the grip of her gun a little tighter, finger just outside the trigger.

Rossi heads toward the kitchen, Spencer toward the stairs, so Fin clears the living room and goes into the hallway, toward the back door. She opens it, peers out into the yard. It's dark, and past the porch, the trees cover everything, making it virtually impossible to see.

Fin leans her head out further, craning her neck to see around the corner–

And then there's a hand on her shoulder.

She jumps about three feet in the air, and she's about to scream, but then she turns and it's just Rossi. Normally he'd laugh after scaring her like that, but his expression is unusually somber. "Kid's not here," he says quietly. "They got the nanny and both agents."

No. Fin covers her mouth with her hand, leaning back against the wall. They're too late.

There's a thudding of footsteps down the stairs, and Spencer careens into the hallway, holding up his phone in a mixture of triumph and urgency. "It's JJ. They got Doyle."

Fin looks over at Rossi, opens her mouth, but he's faster. "Go. I'll stay here, wait for CSI, and catch a ride back with them."

It's an hour-long drive from Reston to Quantico, but Spencer makes it in forty. Usually he's a safe driver, but they're both on edge tonight. Fin grips the door handle so hard her knuckles turn white, but any time he starts to slow down, she shakes her head. "Go." By the time they're pushing open the doors to the BAU bullpen, Morgan already has Doyle in an interrogation room–and he's not being gentle.

"JJ." Fin hurries over to her desk, heart still racing, pounding in her throat. "Anything?"

JJ looks up, pushing her hair out of her face, and sighs. "Doyle didn't take his son. Garcia went back and looked at the camera footage. Somebody climbed up and clipped the wires hours ago, so we've got nothing."

"Damn it," Fin hisses, slamming her hand down on the desk. "And we lost two agents because of it."

Spencer puts his hand on the small of her back, looking expectantly at JJ. "Does Doyle know who could've done this?"

"If he does, he hasn't said anything," JJ replies. "But Morgan's working on it."

"Emily gave Declan a new identity, but somehow Doyle and God knows who else still found him. Who even knew he was still alive?" Fin runs a hand through her hair, bile rising in her throat. Every minute they waste is another minute off of Declan's life. His innocent life.

"That's what we have to figure out." JJ chews the inside of her cheek anxiously. "As quickly as we can."

The next few hours are spent waiting, waiting, waiting. Fin watches Morgan and Doyle talk in circles for a while, but Strauss is there too, and it makes Fin extremely nervous. So she sits at her desk, drinking coffee and flipping through Declan's file again and again and again, hoping against hope that something will jump off the page at her. That maybe she'll solve the case before Morgan inevitably throws Doyle out of his chair.

And then the BAU bullpen doors open.

Fin looks up.

Her eyes widen.

"Hotch."

Without even thinking, she leaps out of her chair, running towards the doors, and pulls Hotch into a tight hug, her arms around his neck. Hotch freezes for a moment, and then his arms go around her waist carefully, gently. He smells like desert and airport, but he also just smells like Hotch. "Uh, hi."

"God, Hotch..." Fin lets go of him, stepping back a little awkwardly. He's lost weight–and grown a beard. He might smell like himself, but he doesn't look like himself, standing there in a gray t-shirt and open blue button-down, wearing jeans instead of slacks. "We really missed you."

Hotch gives her the tiniest of smiles. "Pakistan doesn't compare to the BAU. How is Morgan doing with Doyle?"

"Nothing yet, but we're hopeful."

"What about you?"

"I'm fine." Fin shrugs. "I mean, relatively fine, aside from... all of this."

Hotch lowers his voice, brow furrowed seriously. "Anything on Esther?"

Fin sighs, crossing her arms over her chest. "Unfortunately nothing. I thought Blair might've kept you in the loop, but–"

"I was no contact for a while," Hotch replies, shaking his head. "There's a lot I don't know."

"Well, the Cliff Notes version is that everything's surprisingly quiet. We still don't think she knows about either safe house, and Lars is being cooperative, thank God. Morgan's not probing, he's too busy with Doyle... but Blair and I dug deeper into her prison records and–" Fin exhales slowly– "We shouldn't talk about this now."

Hotch nods. "After this is over, I want a full brief of everything you found."

"Yes, sir." Fin gestures to the conference room. "We've got everything set up already, do you need coffee or rest or–?"

Hotch shakes his head, his mouth set in a determined line. "I'm fine. Let's get to work."

He might not look like himself, but he's the same old Hotch. Fin allows herself a small smile before following him toward the conference room.

Present Day

"And that's when SAC Hotchner presented the team with what we're calling Project Lazarus," Cramer says, raising his eyebrows questioningly. "Was this a surprise to you?"

"What kind of question is that?" Fin frowns. "Of course it was a surprise. Wouldn't you be surprised if someone you knew came back from the dead?"

Cramer ignores this, looks down at the file in front of him. "How do you feel about SAC Hotchner and SSA Jareau blatantly ignoring government protocol to institute Project Lazarus?"

"They did what they had to do," Fin replies quietly.

"Into the microphone, please."

"They did what they had to do to keep everyone safe." She leans into the microphone, enunciating every syllable perfectly. "Ian Doyle was a monster and following protocol would not have stopped him."

Cramer pauses, looks at her with a mixture of disapproval and annoyance, and then asks, "How did your team react when told that SSA Emily Prentiss was alive?"

June 17, 2011

When Hotch tells everyone to sit down, Fin knows immediately that something is wrong. She reaches for Spencer's hand and he squeezes hers gently.

"Why?" asks Morgan slowly, shoving his hands into his pockets. He does not take a seat. "What's going on? Is everything all right?"

Hotch crosses his arms over his chest, glancing once at JJ to his left, before beginning. "Five months ago, I made a decision that affected this team. As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle." He pauses. "But the doctors were able to stabilize her."

Fin inhales sharply, gripping Spencer's hand like a lifeline. "What?"

"She was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under covert exfiltration," Hotch continues. "Her identity was strictly need-to-know. She was reassigned to Paris, where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security."

Penelope's bottom lip quivers, her eyes wide. "She's alive?"

Hotch doesn't respond, his eyes downcast. Morgan stares confusedly at him, the wheels in his head clearly turning as he processes this information. Fin swallows hard, emotions welling up inside her, ready to boil over.

"But we buried her," Spencer whispers, his hand shaking in hers.

"As I said, I take full responsibility for the decision," Hotch says quietly. "If anyone has any issues, they should be directed at me."

"What do you mean, 'if'?" Fin says, willing her voice not to shake. "'If' we have issues? Hotch, what the hell is that supposed to mean? You're–you're standing there, telling us that we've been grieving a friend who never died in the first place? We buried her, Hotch!"

"Yeah, I got issues." Morgan nods fervently in agreement. "I got issues. I–"

Every head turns toward the door. Penelope, through tears, whispers, "Oh, my god."

The breath in Fin's lungs evaporates.

Because it is Emily.

Alive.

Alive.

Alive.

Before Fin can even process what she's seeing, she's holding Emily, as tightly as she can, like if she doesn't, Emily might float away. Her hair smells like flowers and the sweater she's wearing is soft and Emily is here. Fin buries her face into Emily's shoulder, stifling a quiet sob.

"I'm so sorry, honey," Emily whispers, rubbing Fin's back gently. "I never wanted any of this to happen."

Fin lets go reluctantly, wiping her eyes, so that Spencer can hug her, too, and Penelope, and Emily says, "Not a day went by that I didn't want to–"

And then she looks at Morgan. He's confused. He's hurt. And he's angry.

Fin knows firsthand how angry he gets when he's lied to.

"Really, I–" Emily sighs, walking towards him carefully– "You didn't deserve that. And I'm so sorry." She hugs him, and he leans in, but only a little.

"There's so much I wanna tell you guys," Emily continues, glancing around at all of them. "And I will, I promise. But right now, I really need to know what's going on with Declan."

Fin looks over at Morgan. His hands are shaking and there are tears in his eyes as he watches Emily walk over to the case boards, clenching his fists so tightly his knuckles turn white.

The minute Emily's done talking, Morgan storms out of the room, heading toward the bullpen doors. Fin glances at Spencer, who nods, and she follows him. "Derek. Derek, hey."

"I don't wanna talk," Morgan mumbles, heading straight for the elevators.

"You can't disappear on us right now," Fin says, running to catch up with him, grabbing his arm and pulling him to face her. "We need your head in the game."

"I thought she was dead," Morgan hisses, swallowing hard. "I carried her coffin. I watched them bury her. And I was seconds away from killing that bastard with my bare hands."

"Derek, I'm angry, too," Fin says quietly, loosening her grip on his wrist. "But we were in danger. She was in danger. Hotch was protecting all of us."

"I hate being lied to." Morgan looks away from her, staring at the ceiling. "Especially when I grieved for five months, and now I find out it was for no damn reason!" His voice breaks and he looks down at the floor, his hands shaking again.

The office is empty, as it usually is at three a.m. They're standing by the elevators, alone. Fin exhales shakily and takes Morgan's hands, pulling him toward her, wrapping her arms around his neck. He stands there limply for a moment, before dropping his head onto her shoulder with a quiet "shit" that sounds more like a sob.

"You can be angry," Fin whispers, through her own angry tears, rubbing his back gently. "But it has to wait until this is over. We need you here. Fully here. Okay?"

Morgan nods slowly. "Okay. Okay."

"Promise me Doyle's not going to jail."

"Not if I have anything to say about it."

Fin pulls away, looks up into his eyes. "I want the shot."

Morgan stares at her for a moment, eyes dark and serious, then nods. "Okay."

There is understanding between them as they walk back into the conference room: Ian Doyle won't see a prison again. He's going to die, one way or another. Fin and Morgan will make sure of that.

Present Day

"So when you discovered that Chloe Donaghy and Lachlan McDermott had been the ones to take the boy, you drove to Baltimore without alerting either the Baltimore police or Homeland Security?" Cramer asks, almost incredulously.

"SAC Hotchner made the call, sir," Fin replies, purposefully ambiguous. She's not sure what anyone else has said, and she doesn't want to contradict their statements. This reminds her strangely of Strauss's investigation after what happened with George Foyet.

"But you agree with his judgment?"

"I do."

"And what about the release of Ian Doyle from custody?"

"Again, sir, I stand by Agent Hotchner's decisions."

"Agent Finley, these were international criminals who committed a crime on U.S. soil," Cramer bites, suddenly snapping out of his professional tone. "That is CIA and Homeland Security jurisdiction, and the BAU continued to investigate and pursue this on their own. You cannot seriously agree that this was the correct protocol!"

"Senator, may I remind you that a young boy's life was at stake?" Fin leans into the microphone, keeping her voice level and enunciating clearly. She wants her words to hit Cramer right in the balls. "Alerting the CIA or Homeland Security would've put us all under miles of red tape and protocol, at which time his abductors could have successfully left the country with him, and God knows where they would have gone? Because of the BAU's quick investigation, Declan Doyle is alive, instead of dead in a warehouse in the Bahamas or Thailand or any other damn country Chloe Donaghy could've thrown a dart at."

"Agent, may I remind you that continuing to stand by Agent Hotchner's blatant violation of government protocol could damage your career permanently?" Cramer hisses, his face turning a violent shade of purple, a vein in his forehead popping dangerously.

"Respectfully, Senator, you and the Bureau can kiss my ass."

June 18, 2011

The drive from Quantico to the airfield in Largo is the longest hour of Fin's life. She's alone with her thoughts; Emily and Spencer chose to ride with Doyle in the helicopter. So in the silence, Fin offers up a quiet prayer for Declan's life, for everyone's safety, and for justice.

Sirens blur her vision as she pulls into the airfield, behind the other black SUVs; the helicopter is already there, and Rossi, Morgan, JJ, and the other agents have their guns pointed at a private plane, stopped on the runway. Hotch is holding a megaphone. As Fin leaps out of the SUV, she can hear his voice, amplified: "We know you have Declan. To ensure his safety, we would like to trade. We will give you Ian Doyle and you send us the boy."

Spencer suggested they release Doyle. Emily didn't like it. Fin just wants him dead. She wants Declan safe and Doyle in a grave. How that happens isn't important to her.

There's a momentary pause. Fin can hear her heartbeat thrumming in her ears.

And then the door of the plane opens and the stairs unfold. McDermott steps out, Declan in his grasp, a gun in his free hand. "Bring Doyle here!"

Emily and Spencer emerge from behind Fin, holding Doyle tightly, bringing him closer to McDermott. Bile rises in Fin's throat. What if she just shot him right here... It wouldn't be that hard...

"I want him here on his knees!" McDermott shouts, the blue and red lights reflecting in his wide, almost rabid eyes.

As Emily and Spencer move closer with Doyle, there's a crackle in Fin's earpiece and Morgan says, "Hotch, are we really gonna do this?"

"No one leaves here."

Fin exhales slowly.

Emily, Spencer, and Doyle stop right in front of McDermott. His grip loosens on Declan, and he raises the gun higher, pointing it right at Doyle's forehead. They're talking, but the plane engines, the helicopter's blades, and the sirens make it impossible to hear them.

"GUN!"

Morgan's shout echoes in Fin's bones. Her eyes snap up to the door of the plane: Chloe Donaghy, staggering, wounded–a gun in her hand.

Before anyone can react, she fires at Doyle, then at McDermott. They both drop.

Fin moves forward, around the SUV, raises her gun–

But Spencer's quicker. He fires four quick shots and Chloe screams, her body going limp and tumbling down the stairs.

Heart pounding in her throat, Fin runs to Declan, gun held low. Emily's already there, pulling him into her arms.

Spencer has his fingers on McDermott's throat, and he looks up at Fin, shaking his head slightly.

Chloe isn't moving either.

Doyle isn't dead yet, but he was shot in the carotid. He'll bleed out before they can get paramedics into the airfield. Fin watches as he reaches for Declan, blood staining the asphalt beneath him.

She wishes, as the life leaves his eyes, that she could feel sorry for him.

But there is no pain in her heart.

Present Day

It is late afternoon. Every member of the BAU has sat in front of the panel, and they have deliberated for an hour. Now they call everyone in together, for reasons Fin can't explain. Sadism, probably, and Cramer gets off on firing people.

"This team took many unprecedented risks," Cramer begins. "None were approved. The DIOG has rules, and you chose to ignore every last one. That's blatant disrespect to the Bureau and to authority of law in general. What I find interesting is that you are the experts in behavior, but find nothing wrong with yours."

Beneath the table, Fin finds Spencer's hand, resting on his knee, and intertwines their fingers. His hands are shaking, out of anger or fear or both, and she squeezes gently. Three times. I love you.

"Uh, may I?" Emily speaks up for the first time, her voice quiet, and yet it echoes through the room. "The journey was not traditional, but this team neutralized four international criminals and saved the life of a young boy in the process."

"You started a war with Ian Doyle years ago that this team and the U.S. government had to finish," snaps Cramer. "The rest of you are dismissed. Agent Prentiss, we're not done."

Fin squeezes Emily's shoulder on the way out, keeping a tight hold on Spencer's hand until they're out in the lobby. She pulls him aside, down into another hallway, out of sight, and looks up at him. "Hey. I feel like I haven't seen you all day. Are you okay?"

Spencer exhales slowly, holding both of her hands in his, rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles absently. "I don't know. I'm...processing."

"You're still angry?"

"Yes. And confused, and wondering about the trauma Declan's going to have to work through, and...a lot of other things."

"Is that going to keep you from being happy when I do this?" In the heels she's wearing, Fin doesn't have to go up on her tiptoes to kiss Spencer. She just grabs his tie and pulls him closer, pressing her lips to his and smiling as he relaxes against her.

"No," Spencer whispers, pulling away and grinning. "No, it's not."

"Good." Fin laughs softly. "Because I would hate it if you were grumpy all the time. But seriously, Spencer... Don't be angry at Emily for too long. I know how it feels to have to lie to the people you love, and it's not a good feeling. It only makes it worse when they hate you for it."

Spencer nods, pulling Fin's hands to his lips and kissing her palms. It still gives her butterflies.

Emily is in the hearing chamber for only twenty minutes before she returns, and that night, Strauss gives them the news: their suspension is lifted. The BAU is back and better than ever, and so is Emily.

And even though Fin was keeping her options open, wondering if maybe she needed to move on, she knows, standing in the conference room and watching her family, that she could never leave. They need her and she needs them.

There is no pain in her heart tonight.

~

an extremely long chapter for y'all <3 but i couldn't split up this episode into multiple chapters, it felt weird. 

i know there wasn't an explicit name for emily's fake death, but i read project lazarus in another fic somewhere and i think that's a really cool name, so we're gonna roll with it. and yes, the timeline is different; i changed the time between emily's "death" and the stuff that happened with doyle from 7 months to 5 because it fit better with my original plot. creative license xx

also, pushing the q&a until later? just because i want to lmao and also because i only got like three questions and at that point it's not even worth it. so we might do that at the end of the book, which is getting closer ;-; i'm gonna miss this story