AN: LOOOOONG chapter ahead. This is the final chapter, let me know if you want a sequel.

You wish, you wish so desperately you could have seen the look on Aaron's face when he got the picture. Instead, what you got was something much, much worse. And you put your head in your hands and try and take a deep breath, but you can't.

So, instead, you find your mind drifting back and away to what had just occurred a few hours before and really what had occurred over the last few years.

The picture, the damn text. That had been your downfall, you just severely underestimated the strength, power and speed of the FBI. You had underestimated how badly they wanted their agent back.

And that underestimation had cost you dearly. It had cost Jamie dearly, and Ruthie… the innocence lost is almost too much to bare. And you sniffle, not bothering to hold back the tears. It isn't fair, nothing is fair, life is not fair.

You are innocent and have done nothing wrong, nothing at all, but you know the FBI won't see it that way, the media won't, nobody will. You have a hell of a fight up against you, but you will fight and you will prove you were right in your actions.

The room is cold and light is hardly filtering in, you are so thirsty but there is no water. Fuck. This is one hell of a mess you have found yourself in.

So you sit there, and begin planning. Planning everything. You accept that you are not getting out of this without ending up in prison, or without a bullet in your skull. You seriously doubt the FBI would mind sparing the cost of a thousand bullets in your body, especially now that they know you have had their agent for years.

First things first, your defense. Insanity? No, it would never work, especially since Aaron knows you have been seeing clients for years. Stockholm syndrome? Possibly, it could work, but again, Aaron and his gang know you have been functioning quite well for the last few years.

Blame? Now there is something that could work, your lips curl into a small grin. Blame. Blame that damn bitch for everything- she wanted to stay, she refused to take care of herself, you were handling all of her daily needs. She was suicidal and you had kept her safe and alive… you didn't want to send her inpatient because you knew she wouldn't get the help she needed…. Oh my God, it could actually work!

And suddenly, the door swings open and your eyes shoot up.

In walks Aaron Hotchner, a look you have never seen before is plastered on his face as he stares you down.

"You killed my son." You hiss at him as he sits across the table from you, a large file in his hands.

"I defused the situation." His voice is void of emotion, clinical, professional. And haunting.

"What situation?"

He looks up and his eyes pierce your body. "You know damn well what I am talking about." He growls and opens the large file on his desk.

"Jamie's innocent! A baby, wouldn't hurt a fly!"

And had you not been convinced he was a professional, by the look he gives you, you would have been sure that he would leap across the table and strangle you right then.

"Innocent? Jamie is not close to innocent, are you aware of his criminal history?"

"He was framed." You wish you could cross your arms, but handcuffs are preventing that.

"Dealing, production, sexual assault, armed robbery- he wasn't innocent."

"And you think that piece of shit you took from my house was?" You spit, anger bubbling through your body.

"I know she was…"

"She wanted this." You feel your cheeks growing red.

"She wanted to be abducted, held against her will, sexually assaulted, and nearly killed?" His tone does not rise, there is no fluctuation in his voice. "She wanted her daughter taken from her?"

"That bitch…"

"Agent Jareau…" He firmly corrects you.

"That bitch came to me for help, she was suicidal, wanting to die. I kept her safe."

He stares at you and you know he didn't bite it, not for one second. "Why don't you tell me what happened; and I'll see if the judge will allow you out of solitary after a few decades."

The lump in your throat grows tremendously because you know he is right. And you chew on your lip. Mistake. Because he sees it and knows he is onto something. "Or, if you decide not to cooperate, I promise I will pull every string I have, ask for every favor owed, and hire the best damn prosecutors I can find to ensure you never have a chance of seeing another ray of sunlight. You will wish I had put the bullet in your head, along with your son. I will ensure every bit of evidence I find against you is presented to a jury, and fight that your trial is not moved out of town. I will have your client subpoenaed to prove you are not insane, and that you never indicated you were holding a woman hostage in your basement." He pauses and looks back up at you. "And you will never see, hold, or look at Ruthie again. I will make sure you do not get any pictures of her ever again, you will have nothing but your memories to remember her; and she will never hear your name." One more pause. "You will not have any visitors, and you will be under constant watch." He licks his lips and takes a sip of water. "Why don't you tell me exactly what happened over the past two years."

You sniff and feel as if you have been stabbed in the chest. But he starts talking again. "Your son is dead, Ellen. Don't defend him, don't try and maintain any type of dignity you think he may have had. He was a serial killer, and you only know of one of his victims. How many more were there? He didn't just target blondes, no, Agent Jareau was a mistake and he had every intention to kill her. The reason he didn't was not something he planned, instead, he got caught. He had you step in, all the while knowing you could be caught. Sound about right?"

Tears are streaming down your cheeks now. No. Not Jamie. You shake your head and refuse to believe what he is telling you. "No, that isn't true."

"We have already connected him to the murder of at least seven other victims; do you want to know who is next target was?"

You swallow. "Why? Why does it matter? That person is safe, whoever you are mixing Jamie up with…"

But he interrupts you. "Ruthie."

And your heart stops right there.

"He was coming after Ruthie; he didn't give a damn about Agent Jareau. He wanted the little girl."

Your hands are shaking. "My son is not a serial killer!"

"Did he ever talk to you about the night he took Agent Jareau? Or did you even ask?" The room is getting hotter and you are getting more uncomfortable.

"I never asked, I trusted him!" You shout pounding on the table.

"You trusted your son when he brought in a woman and left her chained to a wall?"

"Jamie didn't chain her up!"

"She sure as hell didn't do it to herself." He replies. He takes a deep breath and lowers his voice. "Tell me what happened with Agent Jareau. Do not lie to me about Jamie, we already have him. He will not go to trial, you, however, will."

You squirm in your chair. "Is she alive?"

"Does it matter?" He shoots back.

"Yes." You bite at him.

He nods. "She is."

You grin and lean back in your chair. "Good. Then she can tell you all about it."

He stares at you for a moment longer before standing up and pushing the chair back into place. And as he leaves you smile, because you still have control.

Let the damn FBI think Jamie took that bitch, but you know the truth.

"Oh, and agent?" You call out to him. "You can threaten me all you want, just remember, revenge is not beyond my grasp."

He stops and turns around. "If you touch her, if you lay a hand on..."

"I won't do a thing, after all, by the sounds of it, I will be here for life." You smile and continue to play the game, psychological torture.

"I will watch and follow you…"

You explode into manic laughter. "You have seen me once a week since she went missing and never had any clue that I had her! You sat with Will as he cried his eyes out to me about his missing wife, you allowed me access to her children- I do not fear you agent. I was right in front of you the entire time and you couldn't see it. You failed, not me."

A chill runs down his spine and he turns on his heal before sitting back at the table. "But Agent Jareau won." His smile is infuriating. "The text message came from your phone, she alerted us that she was with you. We knew all along- long before you sent that message. Ruthie was how we got to you, she was always safe and never missing. Your sister played along with us and your son, Jamie? He confessed it all in prison in exchange for a lighter sentence."

Your mouth drops.

"Would you like to know more? We interviewed Jamie a few weeks ago, after we got a lead that he was a serial killer we were looking for. He wouldn't talk to us, until we offered a better deal. He would be in prison for the rest of his life, but he wouldn't be in solitary confinement any longer, he could have access to ESPN. That was all he asked for."

"He played along?" Your voice is in shock.

"He did. He sang like a canary and led us right to Ruthie, to Agent Jareau. We have known where she was for the past week; she texted us from a phone we gave Jamie. We knew she was alive."

"You killed my son and…"

"Who said he was dead?" He glares at you.

"You shot him!"

"With a rubber bullet that exploded red paint on impact. He sold you out. We know everything." You watch as he stands. "And you have no control anymore."

He walks out after that, leaving you fuming. And all you can think about is revenge.

Your lawyer walks in just then, shaking hands with Aaron before greeting you and by the look on his face, you know you are no longer swimming with the fishes, you are swimming with the sharks.

"Agent Jareau will survive." He begins. "She is very sick, but the doctors are hopeful."

"Is there anything we can do about that?" You whisper. "She knows too much, witnessed too much."

"And that is your fault." He responds. "But there is always something we can do."

"How much is my bail?"

He raises his eyebrows and laughs. "You held a federal agent against her will for two years, you have no bail."

And it hits you hard, that maybe Aaron was right. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you are not getting out of here. Not now and not ever. I recommend a plea deal…"

And you suck in a deep breath. "No. I want to see that bitch in court."

He grins. "As you wish."

And you begin plotting and planning, knowing full well it can take months to years to have your day in court. But it will not matter, because the more time you have, the more time you have to plot your revenge.

And like a novel in your hand, you begin writing the story and you cannot wait to see how it plays out in court.