A/N: This is my first Criminal Minds story and quite frankly, with the plot I have laid out for it's going to be a long one. I think it's got a little bit of everything in it, action, mystery, romance, angst, etc. There are spoilers for "Lauren" so don't read any further if that bothers you. One thing that I am breaking away from show canon, Hotch doesn't know Prentiss is alive. Only JJ knows. It just set up more possibilities that way. Everyone is going to have a fairly significant role in this story, though I admit that perhaps I may not write Reid and Morgan as well as the others, so fair warning. I also should say that my pairing of choice is Hotch/Prentiss, but that will be a while in coming.

Hope you enjoy!

They all had different reactions to the picture. Aaron Hotchner always arrived early, before anyone else on his team, so he saw it first. It was 6:30 am and no one else was around, no one to capture the faltering of his purposeful stride, the absolute stillness of his body as he stood before the photo for a good 10 minutes before he took a deep breath, his body shuddering slightly and then continued on his way to the elevators.

Spencer Reid was next and much like his team leader, his steps faltered and he stood quietly before the photo, sadly gazing at it, his hands in his pants pockets before he silently said one word and then moved on.

Derek Morgan and Penelope Garcia walked in together, having bumped into each other at the nearby espresso bar to pick up their morning coffee. Derek had his head turned to look at his companion so he didn't see the photo at first, but Garcia did. She gasped, tears welling up immediately into her eyes before she bolted for the elevators. Stunned, Derek spun around to see what could have caused his companion such distress and his eyes fell immediately on the photo. It was hard to miss, prominently displayed in the middle of the wall. He closed his eyes as a wave of pain threatened to overcome him before he hurried over to Garcia who was frantically pressing the elevator button, all but slamming her hand against it. When the doors finally opened, she scurried inside and nearly collapsed on the floor, crying. As the doors slowly slid shut, any observer would have seen Derek Morgan pulling the woman into his arms while shedding his own tears.

David Rossi was usually the last one in and today was no exception. He nodded greetings to a few people in the lobby and would have bypassed the photo had he not seen someone else pause before it and then turn away. That slight movement caused him to turn his head and he saw it. He paused and unlike the others he moved closer to it, his eyes never leaving the smiling face of the woman in the picture.

It was in the most prominent place on the wall, in the middle, at eye level, where no one could miss it. That's where they always put the most recent photo, the photo of the latest agent to have died in the line of duty, the FBI's wall of dead.

David Rossi gazed into the smiling face of Emily Prentiss. Even though it was a photo, a two-dimensional representation of one of the most vivacious and alive people he had ever met, the flat nothingness couldn't restrain that energy that was Emily. He cast his eyes over the other photos that surrounded her. Some he recognized, most he didn't, but all he knew would be good company for his friend.

"We're going to get him, kiddo," Dave vowed to her photo. "We'll get him."

It had only been two weeks since Emily's funeral and everyone's nerves were still raw. The appearance of her photo on the Wall just ripped away any progress they had made. They had been fortunate in that no new cases had rolled in during this time. Hotch and Rossi knew their team was not up to it and wouldn't be able to function as they still dealt with the loss of Prentiss. What little ground they had gained was lost again as they were forced to pass Emily's smiling face every morning.

Each had dealt with it in their own way. Hotch simply refused to look at the picture. Rossi glanced at it in passing. Both Morgan and Reid gave a gentle nod to the photo as if saying good morning to their friend. It was Garcia who paid the photo the most attention.

While the cleaning crew dusted all the photos at least once a week, Garcia had taken to making sure it was cleaned every day. Derek caught her Windexing the glass one morning and asked her what she was doing. The tech turned tear filled eyes towards the man.

"I just feel like I have to do something for Emily because I couldn't do anything to save her."

No one questioned Garcia's actions after that. If she found some solace in making sure there was never a speck of dirt or dust on Emily Prentiss' photo, they weren't going to take that away from her. It was, however, Penelope's devotion to the photo that led to Dave Rossi's startling discovery.

It was perhaps about a month later and the team was gaining some semblance of normalcy, but that was only on the surface. They were slower, not as sharp. Emily had yet to be replaced and Seaver was transferred out to a different unit so they were short-handed already. Strauss had indicated that due to budget cuts, they were unlikely to get anyone new to fill the vacancy so they had to make due with their small team of four and Garcia. That was fine with them. They knew each other, they were family and by rights, they should have been drawn closer together. That never happened. They were out of sorts, even Hotch. They got the job done, but they just didn't seem as efficient as they once were.

It was no surprise to Rossi. Hotch was their leader and protector. Rossi himself was their experienced wisdom. Reed was their youth and curiosity. Penelope was their warmth and humanity. Morgan was their passion and fire. But Emily, she was their heart and soul and none of them had realized it until she was gone.

It was in the little things. Rossi had seen each of them turn as if to ask Emily something, only to realize she wasn't there. Derek to share a joke. Reid looking for a confidante. Garcia to pass some girl time with. Hell, he had even once turned to his right to ask Emily what she thought about a wound pattern on a body and then realized she was no longer with them. But it was Hotch that seemed to miss her the most, but hid it the best.

Emily Prentiss anchored their team, because she anchored their leader. More often than the others, Rossi had seen Hotch turned to that vacant space next to him and seen the look of befuddlement on the younger man's face, before a flicker of pain replaced the confusion and his stoic mask fell back into place. Hotch did his job. He did it effectively, but Rossi could tell, he was not he same man. It made Dave wonder just how much his old friend missed Emily.

The incident with the photo confirmed what had only been vague suspicions.

Garcia was on a tear. The angry set of her face, so different from the sad one that had seemed to find a permanent home on her features, made people scramble to get out of her way. She ignored Derek's concerned questions and almost bowled over a too slow Reid as she stormed up the steps to Aaron Hotchner's office, flinging open the partially closed door. Everyone could hear her as she yelled out,

"Some bastard broke the glass!"

Hotch looked up from the file he was reading to stare blankly at Garcia. She stood there, a vision in lime green and bright yellows with a bit of pink thrown in. Her hair was pulled up and piled high on her head with a bright poppy fixed to one side. In all his time working with her, Hotch couldn't think of her ever swearing before.

"Excuse me?" Hotch finally got out.

"The glass!" Penelope fumed. "There's a crack in the glass!"

"What glass?" Hotch was still bewildered.

"The glass over Emily's photo!"

He felt that searing pain in his chest every time he thought of her or heard her name, though his face remained impassive. Aside from the small flicker in his eyes, Hotch exhibited no tell tale sign of any emotion and Garcia was so upset she missed the look entirely. He sat there silently, listening to his tech analyst continue rampaging about the broken glass.

"It's cracked right on the bottom right hand corner. I noticed it three days ago and I told Berenson, you know, she handles all those things for the Wall and she said she would get right on it." Penelope snorted. "Right on it? It's been THREE days! Emily doesn't deserve that! That glass should be in perfect shape and it shouldn't take THREE days to fix it!"

Garcia took a breath but stood there, her body shaking with indignation, anger and Hotch could see, sadness. He nodded gently and said in a comforting tone.

"You're right. I'll speak to Berenson myself and make sure it gets fixed immediately."

"When?" Garcia pressed.

Hotch sighed and then stood up. He walked around his desk and gave her arm a comforting squeeze. "Why don't we go do it now?"

Garcia nodded sharply and spun on her heel, glancing back once to glare at Hotch when he didn't immediately follow her. Getting the message, he quickly fell into step next to her and they marched out of his office past the curious stares of Reid and Morgan and everyone else in the bullpen who had heard Garcia.

Michelle Berenson was a Deputy Communications Coordinator who mainly dealt with the press and channeled information the Bureau wanted made public. One of her other duties was also overseeing the Wall of Fallen Heroes and while important, it was by no means a top priority with her not when she was dealing with reporters demanding information and waiving Freedom of Information Act requests in her face or putting out fires that field agents had started or negotiating inter-agency peace treaties because everyone was so busy protecting their turf to actually try to work together to catch their common enemies. In a short, she was an extremely busy lady.

She was by no means heartless or insensitive, but she did have many demands on her so to any rational person, it would be understandable if she hadn't been able to get to a request to change out the cracked glass in a photo.

But in matters of one Emily Prentiss, Michelle Berenson was going to find out that some people weren't all that rational.

The knock on her office door gave no warning of what was to happen in the next two minutes. It was polite and gentle. She looked up at the half open door to see a tall man darkening it. Michelle scrolled through her mental rolodex of names and faces and stopped on the "H's" when she connected a name to the face. She smiled a bit hurriedly as she stood up and said, "Agent Hotchner. Welcome, please come in." Her smile didn't waver when Hotch moved and she saw who was behind him even though she sighed internally. She knew what this was about and the last thing she wanted to deal with was Garcia and her insistence that the glass on some photo be changed immediately.

But she showed none of this in her face and simply gestured for her two guests to sit down before she reclaimed her own chair. She folded her hands in front of her and leaned forward, giving an air of interest and complete attention though she was mentally rolling her eyes.

"What can I do for you today?"

Hotch could feel Garcia tremble in indignation at the question, knowing his analyst was going to explode into another tirade. He placed a gentle, but restraining hand on Penelope's arm and felt her settle back into her chair, though she was still seething.

"It has come to our attention that the glass on Emily Prentiss' photo on the Wall has become damaged," Hotch began in a mild, non-aggressive tone. "I understand that Ms. Garcia here has already put in a request to have it fixed, but nothing has been done yet."

"Three days!" Penelope squeaked out loudly.

"Yes," Michelle began, ignoring the other woman's outburst. "She's spoken to me about it several times and I apologize, but I haven't had a chance to get to it."

"But it's a simple requisition order that you just need to send down to publicity," Hotch continued smoothly and still in that mild voice. "It can't take you more than five minutes to fill out the form. In fact, I'll be happy to fill it out for you and all you need to do is approve it and send it down."

Michelle bristled at the suggestion. She may be overworked, but it was HER work. She didn't take kindly to someone coming in telling her how to do her job and even suggesting she may not be doing it.

"That won't be necessary," she responded with a smile that had grown a little tighter. "I'm quite capable of filling out the form on my own and it will be done."

"When?" Garcia pressed.

"In the near future."

"It should be done, today," Penelope was growing angrier by the second and she wasn't the only one.

"I'll get to it if I have the time," Michelle bit out. "I don't know if you're aware, but we've had a shooting at a mall that left five people dead and people wondering if it might be a terrorist attack. I've got more important things to do than to fill out a requisition form to replace a piece of glass on some woman's photo-"

Hotch stood up abruptly, sending his chair flipping over backwards. His quick movement startled both women and they looked up at him with open mouths. He leaned over Michelle's desk and she resisted the urge to scoot her chair backwards. When he had walked in Michelle had noticed that he was a rather handsome man, but now his brow had furrowed and his face had darkened. With his dark hair and eyes, the handsome man had become something more menacing and more dangerous. Michelle swallowed nervously.

Hotch continued in the same mild tone. "She wasn't just 'some woman,'" he said softly. "Her name was Emily Prentiss, Special Agent Emily Prentiss and she gave her life protecting her team, our families, countless others, and one small, innocent boy. She died a hero and she died alone trying to save us all. She deserves respect, she deserves to be honored because she can't get what she really deserves and that's the chance to live. So before you say to me one more time why you don't have the damn time to take five minutes out of your day to fill out one form and send it down to someone who will actually do the work, you'd better think of another reason for delaying this one second more."

His look was piercing and Michelle couldn't seem to tear her eyes away. Blindly, she opened a desk drawer and fumbled a bit before pulling out a piece of paper. She finally tore her eyes away from Hotch who retreated, righted his chair and sat back down, only to continue to watch her like a hawk eyeing a trembling mouse.

Michelle cleared her throat and bent over the paper. "Prentiss you say?"

"Emily Prentiss," Garcia replied in a satisfied tone. "P-R-E-N-T-I-S-S." She turned her head to look gratefully at Hotch.

It actually only took Michelle three minutes to complete the form mainly because she wanted these two out of her office. Garcia graciously offered to take it down to Requisitions for her and Michelle nervously thanked her. As Garcia and Hotch walked out of Berenson's office and down a hallway, the tech analyst turned to her boss.

"Thank you," she said quietly. Tears welled in her eyes. "I couldn't help Emily with Doyle, but at least I could do this."

Wrapped up in her own thoughts, Garcia missed that flicker in Hotch's eyes once more. He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You were absolutely right in this matter," he said comfortingly. "Emily deserves better."

They separated, Garcia going towards Requisition to drop off the form and Hotch ostensibly returning to the BAU offices. But when he boarded the empty elevator, his hand hovered for a moment over the buttons and then suddenly pressed "L" for the lobby. A short ride brought him to the first floor and he made his way off the elevator and towards the Wall.

Since he first saw the picture he hadn't looked at it again, always keeping his eyes down or resolutely forward. It was just too painful to look at that smiling face on the wall where the only things that tied those people together were the Bureau and death. At times, he could trick himself into thinking that perhaps Emily was simply on vacation or on an interview with a prisoner, but her presence on this wall made it all too real and all too final. Emily Prentiss was dead and he had failed to protect her.

He stood before her picture and noticed the small crack in the glass at the bottom right hand corner. He would have missed it if he hadn't been looking, but like Garcia, he felt anger that even such a tiny flaw was there. Emily did deserve better.

His face remained impassive. Within the Bureau, Aaron Hotchner had a reputation of being a hard-assed boss, a relentless avenger and not someone to mess with. He was humorless, emotionless and cold and anyone who saw him staring at the photo of a lovely brunette who's smile radiated nothing but warmth, his reputation would have remained intact. But inside, the riot of emotions that roiled through him told a different story.

God, I'm sorry I didn't protect you Emily. I swear though, if it's the last thing I do, I'll hunt down that bastard, Ian Doyle, and make him suffer and pay for what he did you to. You have my word Emily. My word.