I'm back. I've decided to do something a little different than my normal posting schedule. I've been itching to post this one for quite a while. I had started it over a year ago, but was hesitant about doing so because I found sometimes when I post weekly, the pressure builds and the writing becomes a chore. I've been having fun working on this in my spare time between whatever story was my current and I don't want that to change. So I'm going to post this once a month or less if the mood hits me. All I can ask is for you to bear with me and enjoy.

This is a stand-alone and has no connection to my other stories. It's my version of how Emily left the team in season six.

Now on to the normal disclaimers. Criminal Minds and its characters do not belong to me. They are the property of CBS. I only borrow them so I can sharpen my creativity. Also I'm not a shipper so don't expect any of the characters to hook up. In my mind they are a team and friends only. Please don't ask for it because it's not going to happen. Sorry.

The team sat on the jet returning home after a long tiring case, all with something weighing on their minds. No one was really talking, though not at first. The majority of the ride was spent finishing up shoptalk and then in quiet. Reid was reading and Derek had his music on low. At the front of the jet Hotch was immersed in a case file. And Dave was being Dave, sitting with his arms stretched along the back of the couch, always the observer.

JJ set the magazine she had been pretending to read down. "I hear there's a parole hearing this week for…" she started, but the pointed look from Derek shut her down.

She dropped her eyes to her hands in surrender, but Dave wasn't going to let it lie. After shooting the dark agent a dirty look, he said, "It's this Wednesday."

Reid sighed and moved away, going further into the plane and pretending not to listen from the galley. Dave tried not to scoff as Reid left and Derek turned away.

"What do you think is going to happen?" she asked him.

"I think the better question is what do we all want to happen. Maybe everyone should think on that."

"It would better for everyone involved if parole was denied," Derek muttered.

"You think so?" he asked skeptically, wondering if he could profile the truth. He firmly believed that none of them knew how to feel. How could they?

"Damn right I do!" Derek said angrily. "Granting parole to felons is just letting them get off easy. They should serve out their entire sentence. There shouldn't be any of this time off for good behavior crap. If they do the crime, they do the time."

"Yeah? And would you want that if you were the one behind bars?" Dave jabbed.

Derek shifted uneasily in his seat and glared out the window. "Well?" Dave prodded.

"Come on, Morgan," JJ said. "Would you want that?"

After a long minute, he grunted, "No."

"I didn't think so." Dave resisted the urge to gloat. The goal was to get them to think how the upcoming parole hearing was going to affect their lives, not to rub it in. "I've known you for a long time, I know your history. You've done plenty of things that could've landed you in prison. I'd hope you wouldn't have to face the same judgment and hypocrisy that you're using now, Derek."

He remained silent. Reid decided to rejoin the conversation, nervously fingering the tab of his teabag. "Do you think the family of the two victims killed will be there? I'm pretty sure they will be against it."

Dave shrugged. "What they want may not play into the parole board's decision. It's not like it a felon doing thirty to life for murder coming up for early parole. We're talking about a ten year sentence for vehicular manslaughter, of which, five and a half of it has already been served."

"With the overcrowding in the prison system today a lot of people, even those that really shouldn't be, are being granted early release," Reid stated.

"Still, a few good words from character witnesses could help. Any takers?" Dave glanced at all three, but none of them answered. "Well I plan on attending," he said in disappointment.

He didn't really expect anything different, but he thought more of their character and hoped anyway. Dave slapped his hands on his knees, got up and moved to sit across from Hotch at the front of the jet. He crossed his arms as he studied his old friend.

"You have been very quiet throughout the exchange, Aaron. What do you think about it?"

Hotch looked up from the file he had perusing and glanced briefly out the window, sighing softly. "I don't know what to think," he answered honestly. "I'm not sure what I want either."

"Fair enough. But if parole is granted on Wednesday, you and everyone else will only have a month or two to make up your minds. I already have. After that, everything is going to be different."

"Everything has already been different, Dave," Hotch said. He wasn't wrong. For the past few years, things had changed, and no one had ever really made peace with it.

Wednesday came quicker than anyone could have expected, and it was time for the parole hearing. Dave was the only one from the team that showed up. He was sad, knowing their support could make all the difference, but maybe it was too much to ask at this time. Dave arrived early to watch everything unfold. The family of the victims was there. That didn't surprise him, but he had been keeping his fingers crossed that they wouldn't be. He knew what their speeches could do, and he shook his head at the thought. Hearing all that was going to be hard.

The parole board was seated at the head of the room, judge and jury to their own courtroom. Dave watched as the parolee was brought in, looking a bit solemn as eyes met the near empty side of the room dedicated to support. Instructed to go to the single seat before the board, practically in the center of the room, the prisoner sat and the hearing began.

Both parties pleaded their case. The family made a moving argument about how it would be too hard to see the person who killed their loved ones on the street, free to do whatever while their family was dead, buried, and incapable of doing anything at all. How could the person who did that, who stole people from them be free? They were aware that it wasn't a life sentence, the crime wasn't murder one, but they wanted every second of the sentence served nonetheless.

Dave asked to speak after that. Chances were, parole would happen either way, but he wanted it known that he was there, showing where he stood. He said kind words, made it clear the prisoner wasn't a monster, just a person who made a mistake. It was a costly mistake, but they did their time and paid their dues.

"What happened can't be excused, but it shouldn't be the only deciding factor," he said. "Bad choices were made, but this isn't a hopeless case."

He went on to say that they weren't looking at a cold-blooded murderer, just someone who needed a little help and got it while inside. What good would it do to have them serve more time when they could be of more use out in the community finding penance some other way?

Dave's case along with the parolee's own argument and taking responsibility for the crime, were more compelling. The board apologized to the family for their loss, but they couldn't validate keeping the prisoner a prisoner any longer.

A tentative recommendation for parole was granted. With that news, Dave smiled along with the newly paroled prisoner. Three weeks later he received a phone call informing him that it was official. Now a new countdown would start, no longer a tally of days served, but a list of days until fresh air and freedom was natural again.

Emily ran her hand over the bed like she was actually going to miss it. There was no doubt that she wouldn't. She had counted down each and every painful day for this moment and it had finally come. She took a long, slow breath as she pulled together her meager belongings. The pile of old letters had become her prized possession, one of the few things that had kept her sane. She made sure to carefully place those in her bag on top of the collection of books and a few magazines Penelope had given her. There was also a stack of notebooks she wanted to keep safe. Those held all her thoughts from the last few years and there was no way she was leaving them behind.

She looked around. She wouldn't miss anything about being in there. From the side of the bed, Emily scooped up the mp3 player that she considered one of her lifelines. It had helped to erase the quiet. She would need it again, she was sure. She added it to her stuff before grabbing the bag of new clothes Dave had given her to change into. After slipping into the fresh clothes and making a mental note to thank him later, Emily went over the room one last time. All the personal hygiene products she wasn't opposed to leaving so she dumped them in the trashcan. As an afterthought she grabbed up the deck of worn playing cards and tossed them in the bag.

A face she had become all too familiar with stepped into the room. "All set?"

"Yes," Emily said, hefting her bag and following the woman out.

As they made their way along the corridors, Emily kept her eyes forward, looking for the final door that lead outside. She couldn't wait to get beyond the four walls of the building with its unique smell and out into the sun and fresh air. She had been cooped up for far too long. The second she crossed the threshold; Emily stopped and took a deep breath while turning her face to the sun. She smiled in contentment at the warmth caressing her skin.

"Take care, Emily," the woman said. "I hope not to see you back here any time soon."

Emily didn't look back at her. "Thanks and I don't plan on it ever."

Dave, who had been quietly leaning against the fender of his car, gave her a few minutes alone before pushing off and strolling over to her with open arms.

"Hey, Kiddo," he greeted her with a big smile and an even bigger hug. "You're looking great."

"Hey, Dave," Emily said, returning the hug. "And no I don't. You're such a big liar."

He chuckled and released her. "So are you ready to get out of here?"

"More than you'll ever know."

Dave nodded, knowing exactly how she felt about the place. He relieved her of her bag and held out his free arm. "May I escort you to your chariot?" He asked with a humorous twinkle in his eyes.

Emily let out a hearty laugh, a laugh she hadn't felt like doing in a long time. "You may," she granted permission and slipped her arm through his.

He guided her over to the car, gallantly opened the door and helped her in. Then he dropped her bag in the trunk and climbed behind the wheel. Dave glanced at her before putting the car into gear. "Ready?" He asked softly.

Emily sat stiffly in the seat, staring resolutely through the windshield. "Ready."

Without another word spoken between them, Dave pulled away from the curb and headed for the highway for their long drive home. Neither looked back as the Greenblatt Correctional Facility for Women, where Emily had just spent the last five years and eight months of her life, receded into the distance.

Whew! First chapter in the can. Always get nervous posting a new story because I'm afraid everyone will hate it...lol. I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think and I'll see you soon. Until then.