WAKING UP THE NEXT MORNING FELT MORE LIKE A PUNISHMENT THAN A REWARD. After what she had discovered about her coworker the night prior, Katharine nearly suited up and left to end Ian Doyle right then and there herself.

She had dressed in her usual mission blacks, armored up and everything when she was stopped at the door by Spencer Reid himself. He had eased the AK-47 out of her hands and gently taken the bandolier off her shoulders. In less than two seconds flat, he had managed to make her anger subside.

He'd asked her what was wrong and she had answered as best she could without revealing much. Spencer couldn't know about Ian Doyle, at least, not yet. After figuring out who Emily was, who she had been, she figured that the woman had also known about Ian Doyle's return for a long time. She'd wait on Emily's call, whether or not she'd want to reveal anything at all.

After all, it was Emily who was Doyle's main target at the moment. The way the man had talked, he had made Katharine seem like an afterthought.

Good, Katharine had thought. Keep it that way. The way she saw it, as long as Katharine was an afterthought, her family was safe. Spencer, Derek, Nina, her mom... they were all safe. The moment Doyle thought of Katharine as a threat would be the day that not even Spencer would be able to stop her murderous rampage.

"Two DC homes torched, two families, on the same night, last night," Garcia said, bringing Katharine back to reality.

Right, she was at work. She allowed the scowl to slip off her face, instead, returning her attention fully to the new case at hand.

When she and Spencer had arrived that morning, it wasn't a surprise to find Emily's desk empty. Spencer had asked around for the two of them but no one seemed to know where the woman was.

Katharine tried not to dwell on it too much. She channeled her energy into not glaring at Emily's empty chair at the round table that morning. They had started the briefing without her, figuring that she could play catch-up when she did arrive.

"I'm surprised it still hasn't hit the news," Derek commented about the case. "It's already mid-day."

"Yeah," Garcia said, turning in her chair. "All anyone's talking about is this storm that may or may not hit. I managed to find an online article about the fires written by this guy Jeff Hastings, but no one's running with it."

"How strange," Rossi said. "They usually thrive on tragedy."

"Yeah, and it gets weirder."

"Ron and Lauren Cosenza and their ten-year-old son were found in the master bedroom of their home, each shot through the forehead," Hotch told them. Katharine winced at the thought. "The gun belonged to the father."

"Murder-suicide?" she guessed.

"Well, it looks like Metro PD's investigation is going that way," Derek said, not exactly confirming or denying her suspicions, "but it's still within the first forty-eight hours. They want our help."

"Kerry and Frank Fagan, like the Cosenzas, were found in their master bedroom from a suspected gas leak," Spencer said, reading from the paper document in his hand.

"It had to be massive to cause that," Rossi said, viewing the document on his tablet. "How does the news miss a house explosion?"

Katharine looked between her work-issued device and the screen.

"Any connection between the families?" she asked. Katharine took a sip of coffee, frowning when she realized it had gone lukewarm. She couldn't say that she was surprised, though. The coffee had been made at seven, it was nearing noon now.

"Only one," Garcia told her. "A continent. Kerry Fagan was born in Germany, Ron Cosenza is from Italy."

Katharine bit the inside of her cheek.

"So two of the five victims are from Europe," Derek said. "How does that help?"

"It doesn't," Garcia said. "I'm just stating the facts, and the facts happen to be..."

Katharine looked up as Emily Prentiss rushed into the room, looking rushed and rightly disheveled. She did her best not to glare.

"Guys, I'm sorry I'm late," Emily rushed out, setting her bag on the floor and draping her jacket over the back of the seat. She pulled the chair out and sat before pulling herself into the table.

"You ok?" Hotch asked, looking up from the case file.

"Yeah, it's just one of those weeks, I guess. I'm sorry," Emily apologized. She looked up at the screen. "What did I miss? Arsonist?"

"One appears to be murder-suicide," Derek filled her in. "The other, a freak accident."

"So why are we looking at it?" Emily asked, confused.

"House fires are rare," Katharine said, trying not to let anything show in her voice. "Add to that a few miles apart, within the same hour, kind of tips the scales of coincidence."

"Yeah, if somebody did this, they're highly motivated and organized," Spencer said. Katharine nodded along to what he was saying.

"And if he wants to strike again, he's got seventy-two hours before the storm shuts the city down," Hotch said before dismissing them. Katharine was the first out of the room, heading straight for her desk. She dropped all things related to work before taking up her travel mug and heading into the kitchenette.

As she waited for the coffee to make, she scrolled through her phone in case she had any missed messages from Nina. She'd made a call to her that morning while Spencer was finishing up his shower. Katharine hated keeping secrets from him but sometimes it was necessary.

"Hey," she heard from behind her. Katharine whipped around, wooden stirrer in hand, before relaxing.

"Oh," she said, returning to her phone. "It's just you."

Spencer looked offended. "Just me?"

He grabbed her by the waist, causing her to drop her device in surprise. Katharine tried to squirm out of his grip as he peppered her face in kisses, muttering that he loved her before finally letting her go.

"Fine," she gave in, turning slightly to kiss him on the lips. "Why the sudden need for affection?"

He glanced at the filing cabinets that blocked the view into the room. She grinned, unraveling herself from his grip.

"I didn't know you were such an exhibitionist, doctor."

Katharine watched in delight as Spencer's cheeks lit up a bright red. Since getting together, she had only really used that name behind closed doors. Seeing what it did to him now almost made Katharine forget about what had her to upset all day.

Keyword, almost.

"Hotch wants us to look into the families," Spencer told her once he had gotten his blush under control. "Garcia's waiting for us in the briefing room."

Katharine gave him a thumbs-up as her coffee finished brewing. She took the time to pour the hot beverage into her cup before stirring in the appropriate amount of sugars.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asked softly. Katharine busied her mouth by taking a sip of her drink, stalling to think of a proper answer.

"Um," she said, looking into the brown swirls of coffee in her mug. She reached over and grabbed the top of the mug, screwing it back on. "I'm fine. Just got some... unexpected news from Mr. Stark. Nothing bad though."

Spencer analyzed her face in a way that made Katharine want to sink into the floor. She used to be a spy, Goddamnit. No guy, regardless of how pretty they looked, should have been able to make her feel like so.

"If you're sure," Spencer said, all too unsure. Katharine shifted her gaze away from the man. She couldn't blame him for being hesitant. He did have to pry an AK-47 out of her hands the night prior, without much question as to where she got the weapon.

For that, she was thankful. If he had started questioning her, she was sure he would have found her hidden arsenal of weaponry behind a false wall in her gym. Now that was one room in the house she didn't want him to ever discover. That and her secret sauna, which she had been toying with the idea of inviting him into.

Katharine raised the cup to her lips again.

"Isn't Garcia waiting on us," Katharine asked, raising an eyebrow. Spencer flushed again. He closed his eyes and raised a hand to his forehead, the heel meeting with his skull with a dull thud.

She looked at him in amusement. For a man with an eidetic memory, it seemed he forgot a lot of things when around her. She would say that she was flattered. Apparently she had more power over her boyfriend than she initially thought.

"If you weren't so distracting, maybe I would have remembered why I came in here in the first place," was Spencer's defense. Katharine just snorted and left the kitchenette, remembering to pick up her phone on the way out.

She pocketed the device before heading back to her desk to regather her materials. She waited for Spencer to come around to her desk, choosing to walk to the briefing room with him rather than without.

"I got her," Spencer announced, entering the briefing room with a bashful look on his face. Katharine, on the other hand, was beaming. She greeted her friend before settling into the seat access from her.

"Took you two long enough," Garcia complained, not bothering to look up from her screen. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you two disappeared to make some Morgan-Reid babies to fill the Morgan-Reid household."

Katharine laughed at her friend's joke while Spencer sputtered, making excuses that Garcia let roll off her back. She waved the embarrassed genius off, looking up from her laptop.

"You better make me godmother," Garcia said, a wicked grin on her face. It seemed Katharine's more sinister tendencies had rubbed off on the technical analyst. Katharine grinned right back at her.

"So," she said, finally calming down. "What've you found so far?"

"Right," Garcia returned to her screen, realizing their small moment of fun had ended. "There is no history of any kind of psychological weirdness with either family. They were healthy, happy, fit."

"Until last night," Katharine said, frowning. "Any signs of financial stress?"

"No," Garcia shook her head. "They were healthy on that front, too. It doesn't help that there's practically nothing on this case either. Every single news story is weather-centric."

"I mean, we're already through December and there's barely any snowfall," Katharine pointed out. "Mother Earth is not happy with us."

"No she is not," Garcia said, typing away. "But once our presence is felt and we connect the cases, it'll be a ballroom blitz."

Katharine dropped her head onto the table in front of her. Things were not working out in their favor, but when did things ever. She only lifted her head when Spencer made a humming noise, attracting both her's and their technical genius's attention.

"What is it?" Garcia asked, looking at the certified genius for clarification.

"You know, considering the time these fires occurred, the habitual patterns of both families were in direct conflict with where the bodies were found," Spencer said, looking between the two crime scenes.

Katharine pushed her hair back and looked at the man in realization. "The master bedroom."

"Yeah," he nodded. "Normally Lauren Cosenza would be downstairs helping her son with his homework, and Ron wouldn't even be home from work yet."

Katharine bit her lip. "And what about the Fagans?"

"Their routines were less established," Spencer said, reading off a document. "They traveled a lot. But they were expected at a dinner party last night."

"If someone did this," Katharine said, getting up from her seat, "then what are the chances these victims are random?"

"THE MEDIA BLITZ I PROMISED NEVER CAME," Katharine heard Garcia say as she walked into the briefing room behind Hotch. "The original online article written by a one Mr. Jeff Hastings... pulled. So with your permission, sir, I would like to track him down and figure out what the hell is going on."

"What's the connection?" Hotch asked, not bothering to question why Katharine had a dagger on her person. As far as he knew, she was licensed and she knew what she was doing.

"It's a small one," Garcia admitted. "Both families coach soccer on the hill."

Katharine frowned. She took a break from sharpening her weapon and holstered the dagger.

"The Fagans didn't have children."

"No," Garica agreed, "but Kerry Fagan coached her godson's team."

"The two victims from Europe were the soccer coaches," Derek said, nodding slightly.

"It makes sense, doesn't it?" Garcia asked. Katharine put away her sharpening stones.

"I'm beginning to think that they've crossed paths before," Derek said, convinced.

Katharine's head turned as Spencer entered the room, paper in hand. He ran a hand through his hair and most likely subconsciously licked his lips before delivering the information he had.

"I ran the victims' phone numbers," he said. "They never contacted each other, but there is a common number between them."

"Give it."

Spencer prattled the numbers off in rapid succession. Katharine watched intently as Garcia ran the number.

"Byron Delaney," she said. "His wife Grace died last summer, children grown. What do you know? He's British."

"Garcia, send me the address," Derek said. "I'll grab Prentiss."

"Take Katharine with you," Hotch suggested. He looked between her and the dagger that was now situated at her waist. "Leave that here."

She frowned but complied anyway, removing the dagger and its sheath, passing it over to Spencer. He tucked it into his messenger bag without question, holding his hand expectantly.

Katharine huffed and rolled her eyes but removed the second dagger from her waistband regardless. She ignored the looks she gained from her coworkers and moved to follow her cousin out the door.

"Leave the third one on my desk," Spencer called after her. Katharine swore at him, removing the third knife from underneath her shirt. She tossed it on Spencer's desk on her way out, grabbing her jacket off the back of her chair before meeting with Derek and Emily at the elevator.

"Reid call you out on your fourth dagger?" Derek asked knowingly. Katharine gave him a sneaky look, opening her jacket to reveal the rather large weapon. Two inches longer and it could be classified as a short sword.

"I'm just glad he didn't call me out on the axe in my car," she said, closing her jacket and buttoning the middle two buttons.

"You have an axe in your car?" Emily asked, raising an eyebrow.

Katharine gave her a weird look. "And you don't?"

Emily raised her hands in surrender, ending the weaponry conversation there. Katharine was glad, she didn't want them to find out about the sword she had once stashed on the underside of their SUV. She'd removed it since then.

They got into the SUV, Derek and Emily taking up residence up front while Katharine sat in the back. She took up the middle seat though she didn't bother buckling up, leaning forward so that her elbows were resting on the center console.

"So what's your take on these guys?" Derek asked. They had been driving for a good while and after a few minutes, Katharine had resigned to laying across the backseat. From Quantico to DC was roughly a thirty-minute drive with Derek behind the wheel, which was considerably lengthy to Katharine's fifteen-to-twenty.

"They're contradicting themselves," Emily said. "Exposing bodies but then going through all of this to hide it."

"Do you think they wanted us on the case?" Katharine asked, not bothering to sit up. She just turned her head slightly so they could hear her better.

"Us, the BAU?" Derek asked.

Emily scoffed. "Why would they?"

"Ego, maybe. Control," she shrugged. "Some kind of agenda."

Derek shook his head. "I don't think we're even on their radar."

Katharine sat up as Derek stopped the car. She looked out the window, resisting the urge to roll down the windows.

"You sure this is it?" Katharine asked, squinting through the tinted window.

"Maybe nobody's home," Emily suggested. Katharine got out of the car regardless, Derek and Emily following behind her.

"Garcia never got an answer," Derek said, referring to the house calls they had made.

Katharine's eyes widened as a group of masked individuals came bursting out of her house. Her first instinct was to dive to the side, tackling Derek to the ground as she heard the gunshots go off. She scrambled off her cousin and drew her own weapon, instantly returning fire.

"Prentiss, get down!" she heard her cousin shout. Katharine ducked behind a few cars as then men shot at them. She raised her head and lined up her shot. She pulled the trigger and watched as the bullet embedded itself into the back of one of the men's shoulders. The man stumbled and grabbed at the wound, becoming distracted long enough for Emily to get a second shot into the back of his thigh.

Miraculously, he managed to keep running and soon after disappeared around the corner.

She heard three more gunshots in succession before the squealing of tires, letting her know that the rest of them had got away. She rounded the corner with her gun still out in front of her, checking their blindspots before telling the other two it was clear.

"Well, this is one story that's not gonna get buried," Derek said, already on the phone with the police. Katharine knelt down and lifted the edge of his mask with the end of her gun.

"He's just a kid," Katharine said, holstering her gun and pulling on a glove. She removed his mask completely. "He can't be more than twenty-five."

"A kid with an assault weapon isn't just a kid anymore," Derek said, kneeling down next to her. He pointed at the wounds on his body. "Five rounds total. That one's Prentiss's and that one's yours. Prentiss hit his femoral artery and you managed to take his shoulder clean out of commission."

"He was dead and they knew it," Emily said, looking over the body. She didn't bother crouching down, seeing as Katharin and Derek were already examining the body.

"Bet he didn't bargain on that when he signed up," Katharine said, looking at the body.

"He's got two shots to the head and then one in the wrist," Derek said, holding up the appendage.

"Why the wrist?" Katharine asked.

"To make sure he can't return fire?" Emily suggested.

Derek shook his head. "Katharine already made sure he couldn't do that and not to mention, he was dead before his head hit the sidewalk."

Derek looked closer, rotating the boy's hand. Katharine nearly lost her lunch at the sight of the mutilated appendage.

"Prentiss," Derek said, observing the wrist closer. "He's got a tattoo, at least what's left of one."

"They blew a hole through the tattoo because we could have ID'd him," Emily realized.

"Which also means they're confident we can't ID his face or prints," Katharine sighed. At this point, the local police had roped off the area with caution tape and Hotch and Rossi were roughly five minutes out.

She took off her glove, shoving it in another clear plastic bag before offering it to Derek. He took the bag, taking off his own glove before tying the bag and putting it in his own pocket.

"I'm going to check out the interior with Hotch and Rossi when they arrive," Katharine said. Derek let her, knowing how she could get around blood and gore. She might have gotten used to it but it didn't mean she wanted to stick around it if she didn't need to.

She greeted Hotch and Rossi as they exited their own vehicle, ignoring the looks of worry they gave her when they saw the scuffs the bullets left on their SUV.

They made their way into the home of Byron Delaney only to find the man of the hour dead on his couch.

"No GSWs," Rossi said after examining the home. "No signs of strangulation."

Katharine turned away from the windows she was examining. Hotch had been standing over the body for some time, trying to find something out of place.

Then, he pulled on a pair of gloves before lifting the victim's foot.

"His shoe's untied," Hotch said, showing both of them. Katharine watched as her boss removed the dead man's shoe and separated his toes. "Injected between the toes."

"Made to look like a heart attack," Rossi said. Katharine looked away, she didn't exactly like the sight of feet since the case they worked with that taxi driver.

"Armor tech windows, six-pin locks on the entrance door," she said, trying to get the conversation off the topic of feet. "Same as the Fagans and the Cosenzas."

"Twenty-thousand in cash. Passport," Rossi said, observing the suitcase by the dead man's body. "This guy was on the move. Outgoing calls. three-two-one-eight. That's Kerry Fagan. Ten-thirty am. Ten-thirty-one, Delaney calls the Cosenzas. Both calls last only seconds. Didn't leave a message. Didn't try to warn them."

"Somebody warned him," Hotch said. "If not on the phone then in person."

"Whatever these victims have in common or whatever they were a part of..." Rossi said, trailing off. He looked between his two coworkers, gaze lingering on Katharine for a bit before moving on. "Didn't happen on US soil."

Katharine averted her gaze. Of course, it would be Rossi to figure out that something was wrong with her. He'd always been more perceptive to his coworkers and their emotions, no matter how hard they tried to hide it.

They left the crime scene, making their way back out to the streets where Katharine had left Derek and Emily. The body had been cleared out by then, the necessary photos taken and sent back to the BAU for examination.

"European hit squad cleaning house?" Derek wondered as they regrouped. "It's happened before."

"They could have taken us out easily," Emily said, not looking up from the patches of blood on the pavement. "Why didn't they?"

"FBI agents gunned down in DC would have definitely started a war," Derek said. "A war that kid wasn't prepared for. He's just a foot soldier. Whoever shot him is the leader."

"Someone must have warned Byron Delaney to get out," Rossi said. Katharine crossed her arms closer to her body in an attempt to mask her discomfort.

"And whoever it is is next on the list."

THEY MADE THEIR WAY BACK TO THE BAU, Katharine riding with Hotch and Rossi instead of with her cousin and Emily. She felt it best, seeing as she couldn't exactly stop looking at the older woman with a mixture of disbelief and disgust.

They walked into the bullpen, Katharine throwing her coat over the back of her seat and sitting on the edge of her desk.

"Reid, you got anything?" Derek asked, throwing his coat on his own desk.

"The damage is pretty extensive, but luckily some of the tattoo remains," he said, turning the legal pad around so they could view the design he'd managed to draw up. "It looks like--"

"I think I know who dug the hole," Garcia rushed into the bullpen before Spencer could finish his sentence. "The journalist told me to follow the money, like straight up, that's what he told me, so I did. It turns out 'The Gazette' is owned by a multinational global conglomerate--oil, new technologies, shipping, air and ground transportation--all of which employ the services of one company. CWS."

"Clear Water Securities," Hotch said, recognizing the use of initialism.

"You know them?" Rossi asked.

"I've come across them," he said vaguely. "They're a private counterintelligence group out of Geneva."

"Ron Cosenza, Byron Delaney, Kerry Fagan all worked for CWS," Garcia told them.

"How long ago?" Emily asked.

"Five years ago."

Katharine hopped off her desk as Hotch suddenly broke from the group, heading into his office with an, "Excuse me."

Leave it to Hotch to still remember his manners even with the clock ticking. Katharine made her way over to Spencer's desk, picking up the legal pad that displayed the rough sketch of the clover he had come up with. She tried not to show any outward emotion at the sight of the design, instead choosing to furrow her brow and feign curiosity.

"So why a four-leaf clover?" she asked. Spencer looked up at her from his computer screen, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

"I don't know, but according to Irish tradition, those who find a four-leaf clover are destined for good luck, as each leaf in the clover symbolizes good omens for faith, hope, love, and luck for the finder," Spencer said, leaning back so that he could look at her. "Though it's said that those who find four-leaf clovers aren't the luckiest after all. Those who find five-leaf clovers are said to gain more luck and even more financial success than those who do find four-leaf clovers."

"There's such thing as a five-leaf clover?" Katharine asked.

Spencer nodded, taking her hand in his own. "Though I don't think I'd need one. I seem to have gotten pretty lucky without so far."

"You flatter me," Katharine said, brushing him off with a grin. She squeezed his hand slightly before hopping off his desk with the legal pad in hand. "I'm going to go find Garcia, see what else she can dig up about the tattoo."

Spencer agreed and let her go, but not before pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. She squeezed his shoulder before departing, making her way into Garcia's tech cave.

"Hey baby," she greeted, holding up the design Spencer had drawn. "Ready to do some research?"

Garcia flexed her fingers, wiggling them in the air before settling them on her keyboard.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"OKAY, Ian Doyle's officially on everyone's list," Garcia said, emerging from her office. Derek, Rossi, Hotch, and Emily had returned from the SCIF, revealing some very crucial information to the team. "His mug is all over the place. He's not gonna be able to get out of the district unless he sprouts wings himself."

Katharine tried to act unbothered. She figured if her years of spying didn't come in hand now, then they never would.

"It's not that I'm not happy that we have his name," Katharine said, testing the waters, "but how are we supposed to know who's on his list?"

"We study his life and every single person he's ever come in contact with," Derek said as if it were obvious. Katharine nodded.

They had regrouped in the briefing room once more, Katharine opting to stand rather than sit. She had her arms crossed over her chest as her phone vibrated mercilessly in her back pocket. To say Nina was concerned was an understatement. Katharine had to talk Nina down from calling Katharine off the case, going as far as saying she would declare a major Inhuman emergency to get her out if needed.

"Look," Emily said from across the table. "Doyle's been away for seven years, but he still managed to figure out who the players were. Maybe we should start with how he got out of prison."

"Well, where was he locked up?" Derek asked.

"Russia, I think."

Katharine shook her head, knowing better. "Actually, there are no extradition papers on him."

"Was Doyle on either of your radars when you were at Interpol and SHIELD?" Hotch asked the two standing women.

"Uh, sure, I had heard of him," Emily lied, "but direct contact? I'd have to ask around"

"Same for me," Katharine also lied. She felt her heart pick up, "I can have Nina on the line, with your permission, sir."

Hotch nodded. "Whatever's necessary, I trust your judgment."

Katharine nodded and left the room with Emily, both women departing from each other to make their calls.

Unlike her other interactions with Nina, this one was majorly serious. Nina begged Katharine to stay safe, seeing as she had already given Katharine all the information SHIELD had on Ian Doyle all those years ago.

"I just never thought he'd be back, y'know?" Katharine said, hushed. She had chosen a secluded location in the building, a blindspot exactly underneath a microphone-less camera. It was her safe place for communication in the building.

"Well we all know things come back to haunt us in the future," Nina said. "Let's just hope Doyle doesn't find you too tempting. I hate to say it, but your best bet might be to let Doyle stay focused on your friend."

Katharine sighed. She knew that in terms of survival, that would be best. Stick to the shadows and let Emily think that this is solely about her. But the guilt that would consume her...

"I think I'm going to tell Emily," she said, looking over her shoulder. She saw a man in a suit cross the hallway before disappearing around the corner. "Listen, I'll talk to you later. It's not safe here."

"Understood," Nina replied. "And if I see on the news that you've been killed, I'll resurrect you just to kill you myself."

Katharine hung up on her friend and took a deep breath. She'd figure out a better time to tell Emily what she knew later on. Right now, all she had to do was play a part. Easy enough.

She made her way back to the briefing room and settled into her usual seat. As fast-paced as this day was moving, she would have killed for even the slightest reprieve.

"Here's the million-dollar question," Garcia said, reentering the room. She zoomed in on a photo of a sign, allowing the photo to sharpen. "Anyone know what language that is?"

"Korean," Katharine said with zero hesitation. "Those are villages in North Korea."

"I love you," Garcia said. Katharine winked at the technical analyst.

"There's a political prison near Haengyong-ni," Emily elaborated for her. "Camp twenty-two. Kwan-li-so. North Korea denies it exists."

"You think they took Doyle there?"

"That would explain why he's after them," Katharine said, playing with the ends of her hair.

"Even his prison is off the grid."

"All we know is that he was never married, had multiple residences, and was arrested at his Tuscan villa," Katharine said, still playing into her role.

Emily looked shocked. "There's paperwork to back that up?"

"And a list of who was there that day," Katharine confirmed. "There may be photographs. Spencer's looking into that now."

"Right," Emily said, looking away from the ex-SHIELD operative. "So those people need to be warned that he's on the warpath."

"They have been," Katharine said, carefully eyeing her coworker. "But there's a whole different life he's led, one that isn't in any file. I'm still waiting on Nina to come through and I'm hoping Natalie will be able to dig through the old paper archives for me."

That was a lie.

"Good," Hotch said, nodding at her. "Prentiss, did you hear from your European associates?"

"I'm waiting for them to send me a document," she answered.

"We need it now."

"He's locked in this hellhole for five years," Rossi observed. "How did he get out?"

Katharine shrugged. "Does it really matter?"

BY THE TIME EMILY HAD GIVEN THE DOCUMENT TO HOTCH, they had already started to devise a plan to prevent Doyle from leaving the DC area. Since Katharine was their weapon and combat specialist, Hotch had entrusted most of the details to her.

"What's holding us up?" Rossi asked, closing Hotch's office door behind him.

"We're waiting for somebody from DC Metro Police," Katharine told him. "Then we can start."

"Who's got updates on roadblocks?"

"They will," she said. "All parkways and interstates in DC, Maryland, and Virginia have station checkpoints."

Katharine was thankful that she had worn her mission blacks under her work-appropriate sweater that day.

"Doyle has the means to get in and out of the country," Emily said, crossing her arms. "What makes you think he won't get out of the district?"

Katharine tried not to give anything away with her glare.

"It's the best we've got right now."

There was a knock at the door, which caused Katharine's hand to dart to her holster. The door opened, revealing Derek, which allowed her to relax. She saw Rossi giving her a questioning glance but she figured after the years of being on the field, she was allowed to be a little paranoid.

"Metro got held up," he told them. "Double homicide on K and 9th. They want me to take a look."

"Doyle?" Hotch asked.

"Vic's apartment looks like a black market forger."

"The other victim?" Emily asked.

"A woman," he said. "Thirties, no I. D., outside his door."

"I'm coming with you," Emily said, grabbing uncrossing her arms. She looked to Hotch for approval, taking his silent nod as an okay.

"Me too," she said, her low ponytail swishing against her back.

They made their way to the elevator together, silence overtaking the usually talkative crew. Katharine took up the back seat once again, allowing Derek to take the wheel while Emily sat up front.

They practically sped to the scene, Derek cutting his usual travel time in half by using the sirens. Once they got there, Katharine took the lead, making her way up to the victim's apartment.

"This guy took two in the chest," Derek said, after examining the first body. "He went quickly. One straight to the forehead. The holes were made by a .45. So she comes to the door, and he shoots her. She didn't stand a chance. This has to be the work of our guy. She might be on our list. We should run her prints."

Katharine looked down at the woman. She knew who she was, Nina's information having proved extremely useful. Tsia Mosely did in fact not stand a chance. She was dead the second she stepped into the building.

"I need some air," she heard Emily say before rushing out of the building. Katharine took her time, wrapping up her gloves and discarding them before leaving to join her cousin and Emily.

"You okay?" she asked, feigning sincerity.

Emily nodded. "We're gonna make a pit stop at my place so I can change my shoes and pants."

Katharine nodded and made her way back to the SUV without question. She felt Derek's eyes on her, the worry clear without him speaking.

"I'm okay," Katharine said, hand on the door handle. "Just worried for her."

"Me too," Derek said, opening his door. The cousins got in without another word, making the drive to Emily's apartment in silence.

When they arrived, Katharine watched as Emily left the SUV, constantly checking over her shoulder. Derek hadn't seemed to notice Emily's overly cautious behavior. She waited a few minutes before declaring to her cousin that she was going to go use the bathroom while they were there. He told her to make it quick.

She entered Emily's apartment silently, watching as the woman threw what seemed to be a gold chain into her toilet.

"You know," she said, startling her friend, "the toilet isn't the best place to keep your jewelry."

"Katharine," Emily said, looking like she had just been caught. Well, she had just been caught, which explained the situation greatly. "I can explain."

"I know about Lauren Reynolds," Katharine confessed, crossing her arms. She had stationed herself in front of the front door. "And I know that you met up with Ian Doyle. In a very public place, might I add."

"You know?" Emily left the bathroom and made her way over to her friend. Katharine met her at the end of the hallway.

"Listen," Katharine swallowed harshly, "I'm going to tell you something that you absolutely cannot tell the others."

Emily nodded, swallowing harshly. "Okay."

"Five years ago, I was placed undercover as Mabel Knight in a secure HYDRA facility," she said. "Ian Doyle was trying to make a weapons deal with the organization and we may have crossed paths."

"Katharine... you don't have to--"

"No, I need to tell you this," she said. "Mabel Knight died that day. She was gunned down and left to rot in that base. I know what you're going to do and why you have to do it. Just promise me you'll stay safe."

"I promise," Emily said.

Katharine pulled her into a hug, the two inches she had on her friend coming in handy.

"Just know that I don't take lightly to people who break my promises," she muttered into the older woman's hair, squeezing her tightly before letting go. "We should get back to Derek before he comes up here."

"Yeah," Emily said as they separated. "Uh, Katharine?"

The light-skinned girl looked at her expectantly. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me just yet," she said, turning away from her friend and leaving the apartment.

"IT'S NOT OFTEN THAT WE KNOW A SUBJECT'S NAME, and in this case, knowing Ian Doyle's identity doesn't give us very much. He's known to a select few, and those who know him well either work beside him or they're on his list. Two or three of his victims worked for CWS and were responsible for his transport to North Korea. There were seven operatives on the mission altogether, and the remaining five have been warned. All the federal and international agents responsible for tracking him down are now on his list of targets. We'll find Doyle the way we find any other offender... By studying his behavior. We'll dissect his every move since he regained his freedom. When he escaped from North Korea, he killed a man and he used his vehicle to cross the border into Russia."

"You good?"

"I'm good."