FOUR MONTHS. It had been four months since Katharine had last seen any of her friends, and more importantly, it's been four months since she had seen Spencer.

Skype was a Godsend, allowing the two of them to stay in contact even with the seven-thousand, six-hundred and ninety miles between them. Though the connection was sometimes shoddy and her call time was to be split with Hotch, she valued every moment she even got to talk to Spencer.

Then, of course, there was inevitable bonding that happened between Katharine and her boss. If she didn't see him as a surrogate father figure before, she definitely saw it now. Even out in the hot drylands of the desert, he was there for her. Anything she needed, whether it be a shoulder to cry on or a speech to hype her up, he was there.

She'd come to appreciate the man who truly had stepped up to the plate even when he didn't need to.

They had just returned from the field, tired and sweaty as usual. Katharine had retired to the tent for a brief nap while Hotch stepped outside to take a call. She was wiping the dirt and grime from her face with one of the moist towelettes she had been sent by Garcia in their latest care package.

"Fucking disgusting," she muttered to herself as she dropped the dirtied cloth cleanser into the bin they had been supplied. She unclipped her utility belt from around her waist sighing in relief as the restricting strip of leather fell from her body.

She yanked the end of her shirt up to view the hot-to-the-touch imprints that the leather had left there. Katharine reached over for the bottle of lotion when Hotch came back into the tent, heading straight for his bags. Katharine watched as he started packing things away, which made Katharine stop in her tracks.

"Uh," she said, her shirt half-way up her stomach and a glob of lotion in her hand. "Anything you wanna tell me?"

She rubbed the soothing lotion into her skin, not caring if her boss was in the same room as her. Four months living under the same tarp together really redefined social and personal boundaries for the two of them.

"That was Morgan," he said, moving to the desk that had been set up and rearranging some of the files. He flipped through the folder in his hand before deciding that he didn't need that one. "They found Doyle."

Katharine dropped her shirt and wiped her hand off on the towel that hung off one of the posts of her cot.

"They found who?" she asked, getting up from her bed and retucking her shirt into her pants.

"Doyle," he said, crossing back to his own cot. "I'm heading back tonight. Uh, I didn't tell them you were coming back because I didn't want to make that decision for you but you can... If you want to, that is."

Katharine stopped him in his tracks, blocking him from getting back to his desk.

"Wait," she said, holding her hands up and pushing him back slightly. "What about the taskforce? Are they just gonna let us go back?"

"I'm still the unit chief of the BAU," Hotch said, taking her by her shoulders and physically moving her to the side. "Now, you can either stay here or come with me. I won't force you to do either."

Katharine crossed her arms.

"You're crazy if you think I'm letting you guys deal with Doyle on your own," she said, pulling open one of her drawers and grabbing the phone she kept on her in case of emergency. She typed a few words into a message, letting Nina know to dispatch a Quinjet to her location. When she got the response she wanted, she tucked the phone into her back pocket. "A Quinjet will be here in less than an hour. That should give us enough time to pack."

Hotch smiled at her--yes, full-on smiled at her--before passing her one of the duffle bags they had originally packed their belongings in.

"Then we better start packing."

TO SAY THAT KATHARINE DESERVED A NICE SHOWER AFTER EVERYTHING SHE DID TO GET THEM BACK IN TIME WAS AN UNDERSTATEMENT.

While the Quinjet's top speed was roughly seven miles per hour over the top speed of a Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird, it didn't feel fast enough.

It took Katharine a little over four hours to get them back to Quantico due to the fact that the FBI's private airstrip wouldn't let her land for a solid thirty minutes. It wasn't until Hotch got onto the comms did they let her land, the man working air traffic control profusely apologizing once her boss told them to let them land.

With a roll of her eyes, she expertly landed on the tarmac after listening to the same man that wouldn't let her land complain about how his wife was going to leave him.

"I wonder why," she muttered bitterly as she sent the Quinjet back to Nina, thanking her friend over text before hopping into an SUV that would bring her home.

After Katharine was dropped off, she dashed off into her house and practically dove into the shower.

Once she felt she was sufficiently clean, she changed into an outfit that could be considered work-appropriate and grabbed a quick snack before taking the keys to Spencer's 2010 Prius. While a Prius wouldn't have been her first choice at the dealership, Spencer liked it and she wasn't going to argue that.

After all, it was an extremely safe vehicle and after getting to know the car, she'd affectionately nicknamed it Pearl due to the pearly white paint that coated the car.

She made sure she had all her work essentials--utility belt, credentials, and her pre-packed work bag--on her before pulling out of the driveway, heading in the direction of the FBI campus.

When she arrived, she turned into the parking lot and found a spot toward the back. She locked the car and made her way into the building, easily bypassing security using her credentials and heading for the bullpen.

When she entered through the glass doors, the first thing she noticed was that the area was void of people. The only sign of life was a man in a red shirt, a man she could barely see, occupying the briefing room.

Katharine dropped her bag at her desk before heading into the briefing room, pleasantly surprised by the fact that the man in the red was her boss and not some random guy they'd be forced to work with.

"Didn't know it was casual Friday," she said, propping herself up against the door frame. Once he turned and acknowledged her, she pushed herself off the wall support and made her way over to the case board the team had put together.

"So Doyle's after his kid now?" she asked, looking over the documents and photos pinned into the cork. "Or... no. Someone's taken his kid?"

Hotch nodded. "I was hoping you'd have some insight on who might have done this."

Katharine bit her lip, brow furrowing as she tried to pull up any names that might have come to mind. She crossed her right arm over her stomach while her left elbow used her clenched fist as a resting place, her thumb tapping her bottom lip thoughtfully.

"I have a few theories," she said, biting down gently on the tip of her thumb, "but I'd have to get in contact with Nina. It's been a while since I've had anything to do with him or his crew."

"Welcome back, sir," she heard Garcia say. Katharine turned over her shoulder slightly, giving her friend a wave. She saw Garcia grin. " And welcome back to my favorite Morgan."

Katharine grinned. "Thanks, Garcia."

"Thank you," Hotch turned so that he was facing away from the board. "What have you got?"

"Got a top-ten list of Doyle's enemies," she said, handing Hotch one of the manila folders in her hand before giving Katharine the second. She accepted it with another small thank you, reaching out with both hands to take the folder.

"Anybody recently in the states?" Hotch asked, flipping through the documents. Katharine also looked through her own folder, skimming over the words, and glancing at the photos.

"Richard Gerace's been here a few weeks," she told them. "He's a low-level gun-runner who angrily crossed paths with Doyle. I caught an image of him on the surveillance camera at Declan's house, confirmed it was him through a scar on his neck."

"All right," he said, opening the file. "Get me everything you can on Gerace."

"Yeah," Garica pressed her palms together, folding her ring and pinky fingers over each other. She pointed at the folders in their hands with her fore and middle fingers. "What I just told you is everything I've got."

After thanking Garcia once more, Katharine found herself following Hotch to the interrogation rooms where they were holding Doyle. She stepped into the observation room with him as he finished telling her what he needed from her, Katharine accepting the task without complaint.

"Well, that's a good look," Rossi said as Hotch came up on his left. Katharine placed herself by the door, resting her hand on the doorknob as they waited for Derek to finish questioning Doyle. "How was the desert?"

"Hot," was Hotch's one-word reply.

"You seen Jack yet?" Rossi asked, trying to stimulate a little more conversation.

"No," Hotch said, looking down at the folder in his hands. "Jessica took him to Hershey Park for the weekend."

"Well, he'll love that beard," Rossi joked.

"Yeah, we Skyped every day," Hotch gave something that almost resembled a laugh. "He's not a fan."

"What about you?" Rossi turned the questioning on her. "You've seen Reid yet."

"Not yet," she replied, taking her eyes off the interrogation for a second to look at the Italian man.

"Nervous?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Very," she said, letting out a little huff. "I haven't shaved my legs in four months."

Rossi gave her an unreadable look as Derek finished his portion of questioning. She recomposed herself and took a deep breath before entering the room.

"Ian," she greeted, meeting his eyes. She gave him a moment to see her, to actually see her, before taking a step forward and letting the door go. "It's been a while since we've last seen each other."

Doyle didn't speak. He stared at her as she stood next to her cousin.

"Mabel Knight," he considered her, looking her up and down. "I killed you."

"Looks like you didn't do a good job, now did you," she mocked as she pulled her shirt back to reveal her right shoulder. Katharine let his eyes linger on the scarred over bullet wound there before covering back up. "Now, how well do you remember Richard Gerace?"

"I don't remember him at all," was Doyle's nonchalant response. His eyes moved down to her stomach, nonverbally asking for the second scarred bullet wound.

"Tell us about him," Katharine said, not giving him the satisfaction of showing him any more wounds he inflicted. The scarring on her stomach wasn't as noticeable as her shoulder was anyways, having gotten plastic surgery done on it during her time at SHIELD.

"Gave him a nasty scar in Belfast twenty years ago," he answered honestly, eyes moving away from her stomach and back to her shoulder. "Hasn't been my problem since."

"And whose problem was he?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"She won't help," he said, finally looking her in the eye.

"Why not?" she heard her cousin ask.

"Because I killed her."

Katharine kept her expression neutral as she turned on her heel before exiting the room through the door that would lead out into the hallway. She didn't let a single ounce of emotion show until Derek exited behind her, closing and locking the door separating them from him. It was then that she let out a shaky breath of air.

"God," she said, staring at a chip in the wall across from her. She turned to look at her cousin. "What I wouldn't give to have Emily here and alive right now."

"I know," was the only response she got before she was engulfed in a hug. "Hotch didn't tell us you were coming back with him."

Katharine laughed, although the sound was muffled the fabric of Derek's polyester shirt.

"Who did you think flew him out?" she asked, wrapping her arms around her cousin and soaking in the fact that this was the first time she'd seen him in nearly four months.

"Your hair is longer," he said, pulling her away from his chest. "And I daresay your biceps are bigger than mine now, holy shit, Kit Kat."

Katharine snorted. "My biceps have always been bigger than yours, DeeDee."

Her cousin narrowed his eyes at her. "I know you did not just call me DeeDee."

They made their way out of the hallway, heading back toward the bullpen. Katharine took the time to mercilessly torment her older cousin with the nickname that he insisted, "Should have died in her childhood."

They walked into the round table room together, quieting down as they did. Unlike the rest of their teammates, Spencer was facing the board. Katharine put her finger to her lips, signaling her friends to keep quiet until he realized she had actually returned.

"You get anywhere with Doyle?" Spencer asked, thinking it was just Derek that had entered the room. He didn't even bother to turn around.

Katharine smirked. "Doyle doesn't think Gerace has the guts to take him on."

She watched as he spun around faster than she could say Centripetal Force, dropping the opened marker onto the floor before practically running across the length of the room to pull Katharine in his arms.

Because fuck professionalism.

"Holy shit," he cried, not bothering to censor himself. "When did you get back?"

"A bit ago," she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek. She kept her arms around his neck as she looked over at their technical analyst. "But was that Gerace on the tape?"

Garcia confirmed that it was, in fact, Gerace, on the tape. Katharine nodded, intending to keep the conversation going but before she could open her mouth, Hotch walked into the room looking grimmer than he had the entirety of the four months they had spent in Pakistan.

"Everybody have a seat," he said, prompting everyone to gravitate toward their chairs. It seemed not much had changed seating wise, Katharine observed, as everyone sat in their own unassigned assigned seats.

"Why?" Derek asked, settling into his seat. "What's going on? Everything all right?"

Katharine narrowed her eyes at their boss as he took a deep breath.

"Seven months ago I made a decision that affected this team," he said, looking each member of his team in the eye. "As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. But the doctors were able to stabilize her. And she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration. Her identity was strictly need-to-know. And she stayed there until she was well enough to travel. She was reassigned to Paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security."

Katharine's jaw dropped. She didn't know whether to allow the anger or the betrayal to fester first, closing her mouth and squeezing her hands into fists. She felt her nails bite into the flesh of her palms, not caring if they left marks or not.

"She's alive?" Garcia asked, her voice small and meek.

"But we buried her." Spencer's voice broke in the middle of his sentence, his hand already reaching out for Katharine's to unclench her fists. She let him help her relax, understanding that it would benefit no one if she full-on assaulted their boss in the briefing room.

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

"Any issues?" Derek scoffed. "Yeah, I got issues."

"You know the last guy that abused my trust like that got shot," Katharine informed the man standing in front of them. She refrained from rolling her eyes, instead, getting to her feet with her hands pressed into the table. "Hotch, I was in Pakistan with you."

"I know," he said remorsefully. "And I'm sorry."

Katharine shook her head in disbelief.

"Absolutely unbelievable," she said. "You think you know a person."

There truly were no other words she could think of to encapsulate the way she was feeling at that very moment. In the four months Hotch and her were in Pakistan for, he couldn't have just said, 'Hey. Just so you know, Emily's not dead. Sorry for making you mourn your friend.' She mourned right in front of him, so openly too.

He let her cry into his shoulder on nights when her grief got too much.

And even if it was for Emily's own safety, what made them think that any of the team couldn't keep it a secret? Oh, and JJ. She'd been the one to tell them that Emily had died.

"She never made it off the table."

What a load of bullshit.

Her train of thought was thrown off track when Garcia gasped, muttering, "Oh, my God," before getting up from her seat.

Katharine turned around to see Emily standing in the doorway as if nothing happened. She didn't know whether to cry or scream, resorting to openly staring at the woman who was supposed to be dead.

"I am so sorry," Emily said, conveying sincerity in her words. "I really am. Not a day went by that I didn't want to..." Katharine watched as Emily looked at her expression, before taking her in for a hug. Katharine barely made an attempt to hug her back. "Really, I-- you didn't deserve that. And I'm so sorry." She hugged Derek next, who's expression was almost identical to Katharine's. "There's so much I want to tell you guys, and I will. I promise. But right now I really need to know what's going on with Declan."

Katharine blinked as she tried to make sense of the situation. On one hand, the training that had been beaten into her wanted to force her to flip the switch but on the other... she felt like she deserved to throw a temper tantrum right in the middle of the briefing room.

But she didn't. The 'perfect soldier' side of her won the internal battle, forcing an emotionless state upon her.

"Emily," Spencer said, jumping right back into the case. Katharine could tell he was bothered even if he made no outward moves to show it. "Was there a man living at the house?"

"Yes," she answered immediately. "My friend Tom Koehler. He was raising Declan as his own."

"Where is he?" Garcia asked, sitting back in her chair with her fingers poised at the ready. "I never saw him go in or out of that house."

"He was on assignment overseas," Emily informed them.

"But he's all right?" JJ asked.

"Yes. He's on his way back now," Emily said. "He got a call from Declan, he called me, and when I landed, Hotch told me that you had Doyle in custody."

"And because of Tom's line of work, that's why you enrolled Declan in a boarding school," Hotch said.

"I made sure that he, Louise, and I were the only ones allowed to take him off campus," she confirmed.

"Louise took him home last night because he was sick," Spencer said, followed by Katharine's quick addition of, "Food poisoning."

"A few of the kids had it, apparently," Spencer built off her small contribution to the conversation. "So whoever did this got to him on campus. They knew they only had one chance."

"Current suspect is Richard Gerace," JJ said, pointing at the man's photo on their board. "He's the most recent arrival into the states. We've been tracking his progress through the city, but we came up empty."

"But we know it's him because he has the scar," Garcia said, motioning to the area on her neck where Gerace's scar was.

"That doesn't make sense," Emily shook her head. "Gerace gave up on Doyle a long time ago."

Katharine clicked her tongue, crossing her arms as she allowed her gaze to slide over to her friend. "He said you were the only one who knew Gerace."

"Which is why I'm pretty sure he doesn't have the balls to pull this off," she said, meeting Katharine's eyes. "There was no forced entry at the house?"

"I had two agents working security," Derek told her.

"We think Gerace and his partner posed as the next shift," Spencer shared his theory, "and one of the agents was a woman."

"She's the Alpha," Emily said with certainty.

"So we're looking for a woman who's getting back at Doyle," JJ clarified.

"And our suspect list just got a whole lot longer," Emily said, putting her hands together. Katharine almost let out a sigh of frustration but held it back. The number of women Doyle had upset, worked with, or gone out with was roughly eighty-seven miles long. Hyperbole or not, it was almost the truth.

She stayed in the briefing room as Garcia and Emily went back to the Batcave so that Emily could compile a list of women that could have it out for Doyle and would have also known about Declan.

Katharine sent a few texts to Nina, asking for information on any arrests she might have made that were also in connection to the man they had in custody.

As always, Nina did not fail, sending her a list of thirty-something brunettes that could possibly have something to do with this. She shared the information with the rest of the team, allowing them to cross off certain people based on the parameters she'd given them.

Emily reentered the room with Garcia not too far behind, a flurry of brunettes plastering the screen in the room.

"These women are associates of Doyle's who may have crossed paths with Gerace," Emily prefaced, scrolling through the list.

"Anyone have a deeper personal connection with Doyle?" Derek asked, looking at the screen covered in women.

"Whoever took Declan showed a lot of rage at the nanny," Hotch pointed out.

"She had been with Doyle since before Declan was born," Emily told them.

"The nanny represents a caregiver," Spencer said, squinting a bit as he mulled it over. "A mother figure."

"Who is Declan's mother?" Katharine asked, looking between the brunettes on the screen and the brunette in front of them.

Emily looked away from the screen and at Katharine, who raised an eyebrow at the woman's sudden change in demeanor.

"Doyle told me she was dead."

Well... wasn't that just dandy.

THIS WAS SHAPING UP TO BE ONE OF THE LONGEST DAYS IN KATHARINE'S ENTIRE CAREER. Having gotten up at seven in the morning in Pakistan, she was running a full twenty-three, almost, twenty-four-hour day. It was now nearing nine at night in Virginia and she felt ready to just about pass out.

As she made herself a fresh cup of coffee, she couldn't help but use the kitchen sink to splash cold water in her face. She didn't exactly care for the cleanliness of it, considering she hadn't properly washed her face in what felt like eight years.

She used a paper towel to pat her face dry, bunching it up in a little ball before discarding it in the wastebasket under the sink.

She poured herself a cup of coffee, opting to drink it black in order to try and use the caffeine as a poor substitute for sleep. Dangerous and unhealthy, she knew, but she couldn't afford to crash in the middle of the case.

Katharine wandered back into the briefing room as a picture of a singular brunette popped onto the screen.

Recognizing her immediately, Katharine pulled her cup away from her lips to point at the photo.

"I know her," she said, setting the cup down on the table. "That's Chloe Donaghy. Nina and I tracked her for months before bringing her in for distribution and trafficking, manufacturing, possession, weapons charges, and, uh, dealings."

"Dealings?" Rossi asked, raising an eyebrow at the light-skinned women.

"With Nazis," she confirmed, trying to be as vague as possible. Rossi made an, ah, face. "Didn't get to hear what happened to her after that though."

"Well one thing she did after that was to bring tainted cupcakes to Declan's boarding school," Derek filled her in, pointing at the screen that way playing the footage of Donaghy entering the front doors of Declan's boarding school. "She just walked right in."

"Oh, that is creepy," Garcia commented as the clip played again.

"She only went away for three years," Spencer told her, reading off Donaghy's rap sheet.

Katharine sipped her coffee.

"That's it?" she asked, a frown appearing on her face. "I call bullshit, I still have the scar from that woman."

"Well she hardly seems like the mothering type," JJ said, only looking mildly concerned about Katharine's scar statement. "Why would she take Declan?"

"It isn't love," Hotch decided, watching as the video looped once more.

Katharine glared at the screen and clicked her pen once. At that moment, she almost wished her boot did go through Chloe Donaghy's skull the night they fought. It would have made for an epic story later on.

'Grandma crushed the skulls of her enemies,' would have been a way cooler story for her to tell her grandkids rather than, 'Grandma strangled a man with her thighs until he passed out.'

The former story would have secured her spot as Number One Grandma for sure.

"Forgetting the international ties for a minute," Hotch said, yanking Katharine back into reality, "what would these unsubs do?"

"You know," Spencer said, taking the pen out of Katharine's hand. She hadn't even realized she'd been clicking it incessantly. "Statistically the abduction of a child by its mother, no matter the psychological disposition of said mother, would be one of low risk to a child."

"She's got plenty of connections," Derek said as Spencer pocketed Katharine's pen. "She could go underground."

It seemed old habits die hard. It was a direct relationship, Katharine would find more pens to click and Spencer's confiscated pen collection grew. She wouldn't be surprised if she went home and found a stash of pens just sitting in a drawer somewhere, filled to the brim with pens he's taken away from her.

"Is there anywhere in the US where Chloe and Doyle had a history?" Rossi asked, bringing Katharine's focus back to the discussion once again. She really didn't know what was going on with her today. She figured it was the lack of sleep getting to her.

She slapped her cheeks a little, trying to get herself to stay focused for the rest of the conversation.

"No," Garcia responded after doing a quick search. "But they do have a lot of ties in Europe."

Katharine took another sip of coffee as Emily entered the briefing room, a sheet of paper in hand.

"Doyle came up with associates of Chloe's who have healthy bank accounts," she said, handing the sheet off to Garcia. Katharine watched as the tech analyst immediately went to work on looking up each of the names in the database.

"He thinks it's a trade?" JJ asked, referring to the reason Donaghy might have abducted her own child.

"For what, weapons?" Garcia asked, looking up from her screen. "Drugs?"

Katharine shrugged in response.

"Does it matter?" she brought her cup back up to her lips, the bitter taste of black coffee washing over her tongue.

"Garcia, see if any have local connections," Hotch said, getting the blonde to get back to work.

"What else should I be looking for," she asked, immediately going back to typing.

"Secluded properties," Rossi said, getting the ball rolling.

"A legitimate business that requires international bank accounts and trade," Derek offered next.

"It could be mundane," Spencer added. "They survive under the radar."

"Maybe start with Irish backgrounds," Katharine offered. "This type of feud would most likely go back generations."

Garcia typed a few more things into her laptop before scrolling through a few pages and coming up with something useful.

"It looks like the Doyles and the McDermotts have a thing," she said, pulling the page up on her screen.

"What kind of thing?" Derek asked.

She moved the windows around on her laptop, clicking into an article link that her search engine had brought her.

"Ian Doyle murdered Jimmy McDermott," she read to them, "but his younger brother Lachlan owns an import company."

"Do they ship internationally?" Hotch asked.

"You know it," she scrolled down a bit, reading as she did. "He has three warehouses, once of which is slated to be demolished."

"Where?"

"Inner Harbor, Baltimore," Garcia told them.

Katharine stood with the rest of the group, abandoning the half-finished cup of coffee on the table. She took up a hair tie and tied up her hair, rushing out of the room with Derek at her side.

It felt good to be behind the wheel of an SUV again, Katharine would admit. With her lights on and the law on her side, she hit the roads. She took the lead, paving the way for Hotch and JJ, who were hot on her heels.

They managed to get to the warehouse in a little more than forty minutes, a new personal record for her. Those seventy-four miles she drove could have made for an hour-long journey if she let it.

They met outside the warehouse, Kevlar vests already on as they waited on Hotch's command.

When he gave the go-ahead, Katharine was the first one in, gun raised and flashlight on as they took on the front entrance. She called out clear as she rounded the corners.

Making sure to check the dark spot, she turned into the open space to see crates arranged in a circular formation with a body practically bathing in blood in the center of the floor.

She lowered her weapon as the rest of her teammates cleared the rest of the room, making her way over to the body on the ground. She put two of her fingers up to his neck and waited for a pulse.

When she couldn't feel one, she pulled away and shook her head.

"He's gone," she said, holstering her gun. She clicked off her flashlight and shoved that in her back pocket as well.

"Doyle said Chloe would clean house," Derek mentioned, looking down at Gerace's dead body.

"So what the hell is she doing now?" Rossi questioned.

"She's getting out of the country," JJ shrugged. Unlike the rest of her teammates, she didn't bother looking at the body.

"Gerace was dead weight," Hotch said. "She thinks she's gonna get more for the kid without him."

They left Gerace's body for the medics, leaving the warehouse with a new plan after a short phone call with Emily and Spencer, who were still back at the station.

While Katharine didn't particularly enjoy their new plan, she wasn't going to say anything against it. She just got back into her SUV and flicked on her lights, speeding off to Largo, the private airstrip where Donaghy would be trying to make her escape from.

She managed to make that trip in twenty minutes, driving up in front of the plane like Hotch had told them to before stopping, being the first car to arrive at the scene.

She heard the helicopter land a few feet away, looking over her shoulder as Spencer and Emily were sat with Doyle pinched in between them.

"Lachlan McDermott and Chloe Donaghy," Hotch called to the two unsubs they knew were on the plane. "This is the FBI. 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."

Katharine watched with her gun poised over the top of the car door as McDermott exited the plane, his own weapon pointed at Declan's head.

"Bring Doyle here!" he demanded. "I want him here on his knees!"

Katharine watched as Emily and Spencer got out of the helicopter, Doyle still wedged tightly between them.

"Hotch," she heard Derek say over the comms, "are we really gonna do this?"

She counted two seconds before Hotch responded.

"No one leaves here."

"You bastard," she watched as McDermott yelled at Doyle. "How's it feeling? It's your bloody time now, isn't it? Now hand him over."

Katharine barely flinched as she heard a gunshot before watching McDermott go down.

She yelled, "Take cover!" at the same time as Derek yelled, "Gun!" and watched as several agents around her took cover. Her voice, while powerful, didn't reach Emily and Spencer over the sounds of the helicopter blades.

Donaghy fired another bullet, shooting Doyle in the neck. The Irishman went down as she watched as her husband whipped out his own weapon before firing a single bullet directly into Chloe Donaghy's chest, effectively taking her out.

Katharine's next move was to run to Spencer, taking him in his arms and checking him over for any physical harm even if she saw everything that had just gone down.

"I'm okay," Spencer tried to tell her as she grabbed his face, checking him over once more.

"When did you learn how to shoot that well?" she demanded after making sure that he was in fact okay. "I go away for four months and suddenly you're Hawkeye with his, 'I never miss' bullshit? Cause let me tell you, that guy misses a lot more than--"

Spencer cut her off by sliding his hand over her mouth. She frowned before licking his palm, causing him to make a face of disgust and pull away.

"Katharine!" he scolded. "You don't know where my hands have been. There's an estimated amount of fifteen-hundred bacteria per square centimeter of skin on your hands and that's not to mention the additional fifteen-hundred per square centimeter due to our profession. You could get sick from licking my hands, don't do that!"

"You weren't complaining when you were licking my body parts," she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. She watched as he tripped over his words trying to argue his point as she glared at him.

"We're in public," was what he settled on, motioning to the area around them.

Right, three people had just died and Declan had to watch both of his parents get shot in front of them. Sexual banter might not have been the best idea at the moment.

"Give me a break," she said, making her way back to the SUV with Spencer in tow. "I've been awake twenty-six hours with only caffeine and adrenaline keeping me alive. Excuse me if I don't have a filter."

"Does that mean you don't want your welcome back gift when we get home?" Spencer asked, opening the passenger side door for her to get in. She immediately perked up, stopping him from closing the door with her foot.

"Depends on the gift," she said, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

He laughed, moving her foot so that it was back inside the car, pulling the seatbelt out and prompting her to buckle up.

"You're insatiable," he said, pecking her lips as soon as she was buckled in.

"Well it has been four months," she said, poking his nose.

He rolled his eyes and closed the door, leaning in through the window. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Derek approach the SUV. She gave Spencer another quick kiss before telling him to get in the back, rolling her window up as Derek got into the car.

"Really guys?" he reprimanded, shutting the door and putting his seatbelt on. "At a crime scene?"

"What can I say," Katharine shrugged. "It's been a long four months."