chapter six / season four episode six.

TODAY WAS JUST LIKE EVERY OTHER DAY. An ordinary Monday, if you would. Amelia woke up, rolled out of bed, rubbed harshly at her eyes to rid them of any sleep, showered and poured herself a hot chocolate before leaving the apartment. Before leaving she, of course, brushed her teeth and got dressed, whilst continuing her cycle of ignoring breakfast and ignoring the date on the calendar.

She ignored the multitude of Facebook notifications, from an account she hadn't used in two years, and ignored the influx of messages she received wishing her a celebratory day.

She would leave her apartment without so much as a second thought towards the fact she was supposed to be celebrating today, and instead settle with the unnerving fact that another year had passed her by.

Another year in which Daisy Adler had not been found.

Another year in which Amelia hadn't found Daisy.

Birthdays weren't ever celebratory for Amelia. Even before she'd become fascinated with finding the baby who had gone missing 3 days after being born. That baby being born on the exact same day as Amelia. Birthdays were just another day for her. Whether her birthday be on a Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday or even a Saturday or Sunday.

It was just another day.

When Amelia had been little she'd receive a small pile of presents from her parents, and most of those presents consisted of small children's toys relating to the field of medicine and attempting to force Amelia to connect with the same job her dad had. The stuffed animals she received dressed in cute, miniature hospital outfits were adorable, but it never pushed Amelia any closer to being a doctor.

Even when she'd been little she'd never wanted to be a doctor. No matter how hard Thomas Levine tried, it never worked. No matter how many little doctor's sets he bought, or real doctor's sets.

After a while he stopped buying the little kits or anything medicinal related. Then shortly after he stopped buying her presents all along.

And then Martha stopped too.

And all Amelia received was a card, sat perched on the coffee table, all by itself, as a celebration of her special day.

It wasn't special. Amelia's birthday had never been special.

Amelia's birthday became just another day.

Amelia's own birthday bared so little of significance to her that she hadn't even told anyone from the BAU that it was her birthday, she hadn't so much as mentioned the fact that today she'd be turning a year older. Nobody knew.

Nobody would buy her a card, or even a little present, or even take her out for a nice meal on her birthday.

And Amelia was more than okay with that. She wanted the day to pass her by, she wanted it to just be another day of the week and she wanted it to be insignificant and she didn't want to be celebrated.

It wasn't just her birthday.

It was Daisy's too. And that wasn't celebratory by any means, this day was a day of grief. A day of remembrance for the little girl who had been stolen and never returned home to her real parents. Stolen so cruelly in the night just 3 days after being born into this world, and to never settle in the arms of her real parents.

Daisy Adler had been born the same day as Amelia Levine. In a way, Amelia felt like she had an obligation to get Daisy home, to bring her home to her parents where she truly belonged and not with two people who had been deceiving her all her life and pretending to be her parents. Amelia felt like she had to do that.

Some nights, where Amelia had slowly sipped on the glass of wine and looked over her notes and the small case file made by a local police district, Amelia felt like she knew Daisy. Maybe it was all the years Amelia had dedicated to trying to the find the girl, who had now grown into a woman of the same age as Amelia, but she still felt like she knew Daisy.

That only made Amelia want to celebrate her birthday less.

Amelia couldn't celebrate her special day, until Daisy could.

And Amelia could never celebrate her birthday at work. There was always something more important to focus on, such as the abductions taking place in Las Vegas. Ethan Hayes who had been taken 2 weeks ago from his front yard, with his body found exactly one week later in the desert.

Michael Bridges had been the latest boy to go missing, who had just been walking to a friend's house a block away before never turning up.

Amelia's eyes scanned her case file as she sat on the jet, her fingers talking methodically on the material of the paper as she read over every word again and again before it truly sunk in, with her highlighters gliding across the page for the information she deemed the most important.

She felt a little sick, if she was being honest. Cases like these with children being taken from their parents, the people who love and cherish them most in this world, always made her feel sick.

Amelia hated the fact that Ethan Hayes would never see home again. He was just a little boy. And his life had been taken from him before it had ever really started. And the same would happen to Michael Bridges, if the BAU didn't work quickly enough to get him home.

Amelia swallowed harshly, biting her teeth into her lip as she thought of the possibility that Michael may never return home.

Like Ethan. Like Daisy.

Maybe they could find Michael. And he'd be another child Amelia saved with her team. Another child that wasn't Daisy. But, at least she'd saved someone.

She clenched her fists tightly and glanced out the jet window. And she took a deep breath. Reminding herself to stay focused today, because she could save Michael. She might not save Daisy; not today, or maybe ever.

But, she could help save Michael.

So, Las Vegas here we come...! (Even if Amelia felt like throwing her guts up into the jet bathroom.)

✺

Things were not good in Las Vegas. And that wasn't just because people were being married in chapels by fake Elvis'. The case was skin crawling; with the body of Ethan Hayes revealing that he was starved yet he had received nutrients in a way that not even the mortician was sure of, the parents of the current missing child (Michael) were dealing with their grief of the situation separately and acting in ways that made it hard for the BAU to interact with.

And Amelia still felt that bile in the back of her throat. This was her first field case in weeks. Maybe even bordering on two months since the last time she'd actively been apart of a case. And yet, she felt like she couldn't do it.

Amelia felt like she couldn't look at Michael's parents without imagining them to be Katrina and Harry Adler. She couldn't stop imagining Michael as Daisy.

And Amelia couldn't stop thinking that they wouldn't bring Michael home, because she hadn't brought Daisy home.

Las Vegas was not going well. Alongside Amelia's distance from practically everything to do with this case (Derek had watched her very closely since touchdown in Las Vegas, the woman didn't have one single theory or contribution since this morning), Spencer was also... not doing well. Derek Morgan felt like he had to keep switching between watching his two kids, unsure of which one was going to have the mental breakdown first. Spencer was having nightmares about dying boys and being sucked dry by leeches.

Things were not going well.

Amelia glanced upwards at the sound of footsteps sounding in the Bridge's home. And the look on the Kate, the mom's face, was only solidifying that things were not going well. "I can't do this. I'm sorry." She apologized.

Her husband, Craig, grabbed onto her arm, "What are you doing?"

Amelia watched closely. The grab on his wife's arm. The shake in Kate's hands, noticeable from Amelia's position stood at the dining room table. Something felt so wrong about everything here. The parents... the case... Amelia couldn't place her finger on any of it.

Amelia couldn't imagine how hard it would be to go to funeral of a boy who died in the same circumstances that your current missing son was facing. She could never imagine that pain.

But, Amelia also couldn't understand the parents.

"I'm not going to the funeral." Kate affirmed.

"We talked about this." Craig said.

"No, you talked, I listened." Amelia raised her eyebrows, because that spoke volumes for their marriage.

Craig turned to the three agents in the house, Amelia, Aaron and Derek, "Please, tell her this our only chance." He pleaded.

Amelia felt Derek's eyes on her, almost as if begging her for some form of input on this case.

Words would just fall from her lips scrambled.

But, Aaron hadn't spoken yet either. And Craig was staring at them, just willing for some form of response to his pleading. For someone to convince his wife to help the case.

Amelia sighed, part of her in disbelief that Aaron and Derek were going to let a mess of words fall from her lips. "Kate—"

"You're asking us to go to the funeral of a 5 year-old boy." Kate interrupted before Amelia could even get a reasoning in.

Not a good idea. Not when Amelia was already so head scrambled.

"We're going to watch them lower his body into the ground. And the same man who killed him has our son." Kate's bottom lip trembled as she spoke.

Amelia couldn't even begin to imagine that pain. Yet, she felt like she knew it. She'd spent so long chasing after a girl who could well be dead. Amelia had imagined enough times watching Daisy's casket being lowered into the ground, she had nightmares about it and she woke up with a searing pain in her chest when it was over.

She couldn't imagine being a parent watching the casket of your son being lowered into the ground.

But, Amelia somehow needed to sensitively get across the point that if Craig and Kate didn't help out in the investigation, and didn't attend the funeral of Ethan, then they would become those parents.

Amelia sighed, "The plan of you attending the funeral isn't because we want to hurt you, Kate, or cause you more pain. It's an attempt to draw the unsub out, startle him. We need any chance we can get with this unsub, we need to take them."

"I can't watch them bury a child knowing that we're next."

Amelia wondered what Katrina and Harry Adler must've felt; knowing that their daughter had been missing for over thirty years and yet they had no body to bury. They had nothing. Just birthdays with the reminder that their daughter was gone, and there was nothing they could do about the fact that Daisy was gone.

Amelia wondered if the thought had ever crossed their minds that they'd wished for a body to show up, just to finally know where Daisy had gone.

"I don't think you're understanding how beneficial this could be." Amelia shrugged, and she spoke with a tone. A tone that caused both men beside her to furrow their eyebrows.

And a frown tugged at Aaron's lips. It was unsettling the tone Amelia had used, the coldness in which she'd spoken with was lacking her usual sweetness, her usually sweetness that could give Aaron a toothache.

He didn't understand.

So, Aaron intervened, "I understand if you can't do this. But, if you can, we need to talk about who we're looking for."

Aaron glanced at Amelia once more, before delving into the profile with the parents, as he was left with the lingering thought that something was wrong and Las Vegas was not going to end well.

✺

The first and only funeral Amelia had ever attended was that of her Grandma's. She didn't remember it very well, considering she had been young and she didn't exactly want to remember her childhood for what it was.

The thing that she remembered most was the coffin. The dark oak box with silver handles. The box that had carried her Grandma to her final resting place, the pieces of wood that held her decaying bones. The box that a young Amelia had walked behind with tears in her eyes and a single rose clutched in her hand. A beautiful white rose. So pure, so bright. So different from the darkness of the box that held her Grandma.

Amelia hadn't attended Clara's funeral. Clara's parents had expressed their want for Amelia to be there, to walk behind the coffin holding a red rose. Clara's favorite. To go on one final journey with Clara. Amelia had never responded. There was no part of Amelia that could walk behind Clara's coffin, knowing it was empty. There'd been nothing identifiable of the Beaumont left after the bomb had exploded that day. It was an empty coffin. A pine coffin, with silver handles. Amelia knew that Clara had been joking about her dream funeral one shift, and the pine coffin was non-negotiable. So, was the open casket part.

But, Clara wasn't so lucky to get that wish granted.

Ethan Hayes' coffin was small in comparison to that of Amelia's Grandma's. It was oak wood with silver handles, and it was so small in size that Amelia felt sick again.

No child should outlive their parents.

Amelia stood by Aaron, with her head bowed and eyes trained on the black heels on her feet. She couldn't look up. She just couldn't. She knew what she'd see. She knew what she'd start thinking.

Amelia knew one look up and she'd start thinking Daisy. Daisy. Daisy. Daisy. She'd start thinking this was Daisy's funeral, and she'd get that gut-aching reminder that she'd failed.

Amelia couldn't save Daisy.

She clenched her fists at her sides and forced herself to look up as the Minister began speaking.

"There's a very full crowd here today, which I believe is part of the natural outpouring of grief over losing someone so innocent." Wasn't the thought a little sickly that child coffins had to exist in the first place? That children could die? It felt wrong. It was so wrong to be putting lives that had barely been lived six foot under ground.

They should be playing in the sun.

Instead, only the sun could shine on the small patch of ground reserved for their coffin.

"It is also a reminder that there is another boy out there who is in danger and need of our prayers. Let's take a moment and pray for that boy."

Oh, God. God. What have you done here? Amelia chastised him. Taking children was cruel. It was heartless. How could God do this? For His balance between good and evil? Was all the parent's hurt enough for his balance?

Amelia couldn't pray. She really couldn't. She couldn't pray to a God who did this.

Amelia didn't bow her head, she couldn't pray to a God she didn't believe in. She couldn't pray, not when she had to be on high alert for finding the unsub who had come to prey on a grieving community.

"He's here." Kate murmured.

The Gospel that was being read was merely background noise.

Amelia cracked her knuckles, she watched as Emily and Rossi led away a man who had been recording the funeral. And she stared at the wood of the coffin.

The sickness she'd felt since they'd arrived in Vegas hadn't left her. And she didn't know how much longer she could be on this case before people like Aaron or Derek started asking questions about her.

If they asked... she wouldn't know what to say.

Because, then she'd have to tell them it was her birthday.

And she didn't want to celebrate.

✺

Las Vegas was getting worse. Aaron was going to ask questions. Amelia knew it. He always asked questions whenever he made it so that they were stepping aside from the case and going to fetch refreshments for the rest of the team and the local police department, to help everyone keep on their toes with such a difficult case.

Bull-fucking-shit. Newsflash for all BAU members, whenever Aaron and Amelia were on a coffee run it was not for your benefit. It was so Aaron could grill Amelia on whatever was going on in that head of hers. (Maybe grill was dramatic, but Amelia wasn't in a talking mood today, so it would undoubtedly turn into a grilling session.)

They were stood in the queue at the coffee shop, Amelia's gaze trained on anywhere but Aaron, and Aaron's gaze trained firmly on Amelia. Her shoulders were tense, her hands ringed tightly together, with her knuckles being cracked every ten minutes or so. She hadn't picked at her nail polish. Which at first, Aaron had thought to be a major milestone.

That was until he'd realized that all nail polish had already been picked off Amelia's nails. She'd had them freshly painted pink when they'd gotten on the jet this morning. By the time Amelia had stepped off the jet and landed in Las Vegas, the nail polish was all gone.

No doubt, on the way home, Aaron would find little pink chippings in the jet's carpet.

He crossed his arms across his chest, finally preparing himself for what to say, or what to ask Amelia.

But, her attention was quickly stolen by a man about two people ahead of them in the line. The man dressed in all black, having just came from the same funeral the BAU had been at, with his tousled brown hair and sullen face. His stubble looked scratchy and if possible his dark circles were darker than Amelia's.

And that was difficult to beat.

The man in question offered a short smile to the barista, that he clearly knew well, "The usual, please, Cas."

'Cas', the barista, smiled softly in response, before setting off to make his usual. She made polite conversation as she did so, "The funeral just finished?"

He nodded, his shaky hands reaching into his pocket for his credit card. Amelia would describe them as trembling hands. She watched him drop his wallet to the floor with the shakiness of his hands, the thud almost deafening amongst the peace of the coffee shop.

Amelia bent down to pick it up for him. Offering it back to him with a soft smile. She pretended to look away when he did, but she didn't. She watched his every move.

He awkwardly stuffed the wallet back into his pocket, resting his hands against the counter in an attempt to steady himself, his credit card now held. "Yeah." He shortly replied to the barista's previous question.

"It was real nice of you to go, y'know?" Cas smiled, "Nobody would've asked that of you, Charlie. Not today. Not today of all days."

Today.

Amelia felt even sicker.

"I know." He responded quickly, "It was just the right thing to do, for Richard— he was good to me as a boss. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I hadn't gone."

Charlie tapped his credit card against the counter, he seemed to have to be doing something to distract himself.

Aaron thought that was a lot like Amelia.

"I know," Cas nodded, solemnly, adding sugars and milk to his usual, "But, putting yourself through stuff like this isn't gonna make it better, Charlie. It's not going to bring her back."

Her.

Her.

"I know that, Cas." Charlie replied shortly, his irritation seeming to grow. "Don't you think I know that? I've spent my whole life—"

Cas stood on the opposite side of the counter to him, with his usual in her hands and a frown on her face. "Charlie," she warned, "I know how you've spent your whole life trying to bring her home, and I know that every birthday that passes gets harder— but, sooner or later you're gonna have to start to think that maybe she can't be brought home—"

"Give me the damn coffee." Charlie interrupted, holding his card out for her to take.

Amelia didn't quite believe what she was hearing. Maybe Amelia just wanted to believe anything about missing children could be related to Daisy, but this just seemed too... too many coincidences.

Maybe Amelia just wanted to believe there was someone else out there as dedicated to bringing Daisy home.

Cas shook her head sliding him the to-go cup, "It's on the house."

"Cas—"

"Charlie." She warned, narrowing her eyes at the man, "Take the free coffee, and go home. I can see your shakes from a mile away. Go home and stay there. Do not— don't go out tonight, Charlie."

Charlie scoffed, shaking his head as he took his coffee and walked out the shop.

Amelia watched him go. Her eyebrows furrowed as she felt the urge to pick at her nail polish, but there was nothing to pick at. So, she had to settle for something that actually hurt her. Her hands moved on their own accord as she picked at the skin surrounding her nails, no doubt by the end of this coffee trip they would be bright red with little patches of blood.

But, she needed to do something. Amelia couldn't just stand there. She was so confused. Her head was a mess, she felt all over the place.

Amelia shouldn't be here. She shouldn't. She knew that mistake now. She should've stayed at home and wallowed in self pity on Daisy's birthday (her own birthday too), smothered under the duvets.

But, she was here now. And she didn't know how to back out when a little boy's life still needed to be saved.

"He was intense." Aaron commented, eyeing the movements of her hands with a frown on his face.

Amelia nodded, seemingly still watching his retreating figure down the streets of Las Vegas. "Yeah." She murmured. "He was."

There was so much to understand about the man who had just simply been ordering a coffee. (But, since the man who had shot Penelope, Amelia had learnt to be more caring of her surroundings and the people in them, especially coffee shops.) He had the shakes, as some people would call them. A sign of withdrawal, Cas had warned him not to go out tonight. Was that because of drugs? Or drinking? Or, maybe gambling? Who had he been wanting to bring home? Who was he desperate to see brought home where she belongs?

Amelia only, selfishly, wanted it to be one person.

She let Aaron put their large order through to Cas, the poor girl holding the whole coffee shop down by herself and now had to deal with an FBI x local police department order. An endless amount of coffee and far too many donuts for her liking. But, she gave them a patient smile and told them it would be just a few minutes.

Aaron sighed, not because of what Cas had told them, but because he now turned to face Amelia. A new furrow in his eyebrow that he only ever seemed to get whenever he needed to ask Amelia a question. "What was that this morning? At the Bridge's?"

"What was what?" She retorted. Amelia replied to Aaron's question with that same coldness she'd spoken to Kate with.

"You know what." Aaron said, and his tone retreated to that of his 'unit chief tone'. Not the usual, softened, tone when he usually spoke to Amelia. "Whatever's going on with you today, you can talk to me about it, you know that. I've told you countless time before."

"But, I cannot help if you carry on like this. I can't do anything, Amelia, if you carry on."

He wanted to threaten her with desk duty to get the answer out of her, but he wasn't all too sure that would be a threat today. There was a small part of Aaron that felt like Amelia wanted to be sentenced to desk duty.

"'M not doin' anything—"

"Don't give me that." Aaron warned. And he couldn't help but feel as though he and Amelia were mimicking the confrontation between Charlie and Cas just minutes before. "Do not try that with me, Amelia. There is something wrong."

With you. There is something wrong with me. Amelia thought. The shameful part of her just wanted Aaron to add those hateful words on the end of his sentence because she'd decided she deserved it after the day she'd had. The day in which she should've been focusing on a missing boy— she'd been focusing on her missing girl.

She was a wretched person, wasn't she? For doing so.

"I don't wanna talk about it." Amelia said.

She did. She wanted to tell Aaron.

Yet, she just wouldn't let herself.

Aaron sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. She was annoying him. Apologize. Apologize. Apologize! "I just want to help." He said, interrupting her inner thoughts. "That's all I ever wanna do Amelia, and I don't know how many times I have to say it—"

"It's my birthday."

Silence.

Yep. That felt right. Her birthdays were often spent in silence.

"Amelia—"

"And it's Daisy's birthday."

Silence.

Daisy probably spent her birthdays in silence too.

"It's Daisy Adler's birthday and it's just another reminder that I haven't found her, Aaron. After the years I've spent— the profiles I've made, the hours I've spent looking over police reports, the interrogations— everything. And 'M not one step closer to finding her then I was ten years ago." Every word felt like a stab to her own heart, speaking it out loud was just like reminding herself of her own failures.

"And then... we come here to Vegas, and I can't think straight, I can't... I can't even think about Michael without thinking about Daisy. And it's terrible, I know. I'm terrible at this job— and I need to get my shit together, I know." Amelia didn't look at Aaron when she spoke, because she didn't want to see the disappointment in his eyes, "I can't save Daisy. And I can't even focus enough to save Michael."

"I don't even know..." She sighed, shaking her head, "I don't know what I'm doing here, to be honest. I should've stayed far away today, and I don't know why I let myself get on that jet knowing I was a liability."

"I trust you." Aaron said. He said it simply, as if it was easy.

"You shouldn't." Amelia said. She said it simply too. Because, she knew it was easier to distrust her, than to trust her.

"Why shouldn't I?" Aaron asked, and before Amelia could reel off every reason under the moon why Aaron should keep her far away, he spoke first, "I know you're distracted. That's why you're so cold to Kate, it's why you look like you're on another planet, Amelia."

"But on a case like this... there's no other agent I'd rather have. I know cases like this get to you, I've seen you. They're personal. But, you know what? It makes you want to solve the case more, I know it." Aaron spoke with such conviction that it made Amelia believe him. "Because, every kid you find, is another Daisy saved."

"I don't know how difficult today is for you, and I'm not gonna try and pretend I do. But, what I'm gonna tell you is to put that... pain that you're feeling into solving this case. To put that bad feeling into something good. So, we can find Michael and we can have hope to find Daisy." We. We. We.

What did that mean Aaron?

"You have to do that, because we need to solve this case, Amelia. And I know if you just start focusing again... you can solve it. You're smart enough, you're driven enough." He wanted to praise her further, tell her she was smarter than him, more driven than him.

But, Aaron knew when he praised Amelia too much she would stop believing him. He needed to put one foot in front of the other when it came to making Amelia believe him and just take it slowly.

"Can you do that?" He asked, tentatively, as if he had another plan in place in case she were to say 'no'. "Can you try that?"

For him? Of course, she could.

Amelia's head nodded slowly.

At the same time, Cas came back to the counter with two large boxes of donuts and multiple cups of coffees in trays.

Aaron paid, and picked up the trays of coffee, whilst Amelia settled for the easier object; the boxes of donuts.

They begin walking back to the SUV, and Aaron glanced back at Amelia. "Amelia?" He asked, his lips neither downturned nor upturned.

She looked up at him, with wide eyes. Eyes that reminded him of a deer; wide, innocent and beautiful.

Aaron's lips twitched, the smallest of smiles on his lips, "Happy birthday."

✺

"It's not a man." Amelia murmured, her head cradled in her hands as she replayed the recording over and over again of the conversation Aaron had just had with the unsub over the phone. The rest of the team gathered around the Bridge's dining table, and furrowed their eyebrows at her murmur.

"It's not a man." Amelia looked up, her eyebrows furrowed, "'Blue shoes. Lime green oxford', that's what the unsub said. If a man took Michael— he wouldn't care for those kind of details."

"And with every phone call, the unsub attacks Kate. The unsub always brings it back to Kate, and how Kate is Michael's mother but Michael is much safer in the unsub's care." Amelia shook her head, "It's not a man."

Derek nodded in agreement, "I think Amelia's right. She talked about what the child wanted. How he slept. How she took care of him. She said 'I loved him', a male unsub would have emphasized the competition, not the care giving."

"A male unsub would care about outsmarting us, having us run rings around ourselves. How we couldn't even catch them at the funeral— we haven't had any of that." Amelia said.

"So, we could've been looking for both men and women at the funeral—"

Rossi cut off Kate's negative comment, "The statistics are overwhelming. Women abduct newborns. Men take children."

(Daisy Adler could sure contradict that statement.)

Aaron didn't smile. But, just know he wanted to. As he ordered Garcia to find any of the license plates at the funeral and find if they were registered to a funeral, he wanted to smile. Amelia was focusing again.

"That would be zero." Penelope stated over the phone.

Reid's fingers ran delicately over a paper copy of the transcript, "The transcript reads like she's been institutionalized."

"You mean she's crazy." Craig said.

"She described herself as being 'locked down'. Not 'arrested' or 'put away'. Plus, most mental facilities are very rigid about the amount of phone time they allow per day. I think her talking about only having 3 minutes isn't her rule to us." Spencer explained, "It's what she's been institutionalized to think of as normal."

Rossi asked for the records of women released from mental institutions in the last month. But, to that, Penelope was met with data confidentiality.

And to that Spencer had his own way of accessing those files.

✺

Claire Bates. The woman who had been taking these children, who had been breastfeeding them. The woman who had lost her own son only 3 weeks ago due to an evaluation from CPS.

But, she wouldn't take anymore boys. Amelia was going to make sure of it as she adjusted the straps of her vest and checked the amount of bullets in her gun.

She wouldn't let it happen. They would save Michael, for the hope they could save Daisy in the future.

"Hotch—" Amelia spoke into her comms, pushing open the back door with her back and running straight out, following after Claire. "We got her, she's running out back with the boy."

Derek followed quickly after Amelia. He was unsure when Amelia had ever ran this fast. "She's going to the garage!" Derek shouted, for whoever really wanted to hear it.

Amelia led everyone. She ran in-front, she ran with purpose. Everyone followed after her.

For a moment Amelia pretended she was saving Daisy.

And that made her want to run faster. But, not too fast that she ran into the fire that Claire had started moments ago, with a bundle of blankets in her arms; the only thing that separated the team and Claire was fire.

"Claire," Amelia warned, her gun raised as she moved slowly to round the fire, "Step back from the fire, and put him down, Claire."

Her. Put her down, Claire. It's all I ask. Put her down.

"My baby's dead." Claire spoke, her voice trembling.

Amelia shook her head, Derek following closely in her movements round one side of the fire whilst Emily and Aaron did the same on the opposite side. "He's not dead, Claire. He's being taken care of, by someone else."

"Just like you've been caring for these boys, Claire. You took real good care of them, didn't you?"

Amelia could see Claire nodding.

"That's right. You're taking really good care of Michael. But, that fire isn't good for babies, Claire. You need to step back, and put him down." Amelia spoke gently.

Aaron was glad the coldness she'd sported today was gone. It hadn't suited her.

"I kept healthy. I did good." She cried.

"We know you did." Emily affirmed, "We just need you to step away and put the boy down."

"Do some more good, Claire." Amelia said, "If you want to prove how good you can be, step away from the fire and put him down."

"My baby's dead." Claire repeated.

"He's not, Claire. We can prove that your baby is still alive if you step away and put the baby down." Amelia was negotiating. It felt so long since she'd done it so easily. "That's your only option, Claire, you have to listen to us and put him down if you want to see your baby. You're beautiful, healthy, alive, baby. "

"Do you have a clean shot of her?" Rossi asked.

Amelia's eyes widened, "We're not shooting her." She scowled, "She's not armed. I can get her to drop him, just give me— give me another second."

Amelia sighed, lowering her gun and stepping closer to Claire, "Claire," she said softly, "I need you to listen to me, okay? See this? See my gun," she waited for Claire's nod, "I'm going to lower it, okay? I'm gonna hold it at my side and it's not going to hurt you."

Claire looked apprehensive, she gulped, and tightened her hold on the blankets in her arms. The blankets that held Michael.

(Or, so everyone on the team fucking thought.)

"I won't hurt you, Claire. None of us want to hurt you. But, if you do not step away from that fire, and if you do not put Michael on the floor, someone will get hurt." Amelia warned, approaching Claire with her hands up.

Aaron couldn't tell you how many times he had watched Amelia do this now, it seemed to be her trademark in negotiating; putting down her gun and just talking with an unsub, talking softly and gently in an attempt to coax them away. Every time it made Aaron want to pull her back to his side, make sure she was out of harms way. But, he couldn't.

And he also didn't want to, because watching Amelia do this was incredible. No matter the danger, it always seemed to work.

Aaron was just worried about the day it didn't.

"Claire, you can make the right choice here, do you understand that? The right choice is putting Michael down, away from the fire and coming over to me, okay? That way I can guarantee that we will show you your baby boy."

Rossi shook his head, "What is she doing? I've got a clean shot—"

"Don't you shoot." Derek warned, his eyes narrowed at the older man through his sunglasses.

Amelia moved her body so that it blocked Claire from Rossi's shot. "You need to put him down, if you want any chance at seeing your boy. Can you please do that, Claire? Can you do that f'me? I want you to see him, but you have to put Michael down."

Claire's grip on the blankets loosened as she took a tentative step back from the fire.

"That's it. We'll go slow, okay? You take another step back, and I take another one forward, okay? Is that okay Claire?"

Claire nodded, looking away from the fire as she took another step back and stared at Amelia taking one step closer.

"I don't wanna hurt you, I promise. I wanna keep Michael safe, don't you want that too, Claire?"

Claire nodded again, bending down slowly to place the bundle of blankets down on the floor.

Amelia nodded her head too, approaching Claire, "That's it." She whispered, watching the bundle of blankets come undone in disbelief. You have to be shitting me—, "It's not Michael! It's— Jesus," She murmured, "It's just blankets."

Moments later Reid followed up with radioing in that he'd found Michael.

Amelia sighed, approaching Claire, despite some lingering annoyance at what had just happened she smile softly at the unsub, "Claire, that was good, okay? You did good there. But, I need to put you in some handcuffs, okay? They won't hurt, I'll be gentle."

Amelia glanced over her shoulder, "I can't promise that anyone else on my team will be gentle, so, let me do it, Claire."

Claire complied easily, letting herself even be led away by Amelia in the cuffs. Slowly, of course. Every move was tentative, Amelia didn't want to move too quickly and frighten Claire. She wanted to move slowly, and gently.

Claire was a woman who'd lost her son.

Whilst, it was no excuse for what she'd done, Amelia didn't want to hurt her more than Claire had already been hurt.

Whilst Amelia led Claire round the front of the house to the cop car waiting out front, Aaron was simultaneously holding onto Michael's hand and leading him to his mom.

Amelia paused their slow movements as Michael ran straight into the arms of his mom.

She chewed at her lip, momentarily her hold on Claire tightened.

There was tears. And yet there was joy. Michael was home.

Michael was saved.

Amelia looked up and across to see Aaron stood there already looking at her.

It was as if they were both silently saying that one day, they could do the same for Daisy.

✺

Amelia giggled, watching Derek fail miserably at holding his chopsticks and try to eat— well, it was quite possible that Amelia had forgotten the name of what they were eating but she was enjoying it nonetheless.

She was also incredibly happy that her chopstick skills were far better than Derek's.

"That's just embarrassing." She laughed, sipping on her glass of wine as she watched Derek's food fall straight through the chopsticks and splat back on his plate, "'S actually getting hard to watch, how can you be so bad at this?"

"Will you shut your damn pie-hole, lady?" Derek narrowed his eyes, before shaking his head with a small grin. "Honestly, acting like you're some chopstick-Goddess. Hell, where'd you even learn to use chopsticks like that?"

Amelia grinned, "My Grandma was a pro at chopsticks. Obviously, genetics worked out in my favor there."

(Oh, Amelia.)

From his seat next to her, Aaron laughed quietly under his breath.

Amelia raised her eyebrows, a slight pink tinge to her cheeks from the amount of wine she'd consumed so far. (Who could blame her? It was her birthday after all.) "Don't know what you're laughing about. You ain't much better than him."

Emily laughed, glancing at JJ, "I like when Amelia's wine-drunk, we need to get her wine-drunk more!" Emily shared a same pink tinge to her own cheeks, having clearly consumed a similar amount to Amelia.

JJ smiled, her thumb rubbing along the side of her bump as she sipped on a glass of water. "Hm," she laughed, "You two are like peas in a pod."

Aaron glanced down at his chopstick form and Derek's, then he frowned. "You can't seriously be comparing mine to his."

"You hold them like a pen," she laughed, placing down her own chopsticks to reposition the ones in his hands.

Aaron felt like he might die. Okay, that was an exaggeration. But, the softness of her hands even with something so simple, and so stupid as her repositioning the chopsticks in his hands— it did make him erupt in butterflies and sent a red flurry to his cheeks that he could not blamed on the small amount of wine he'd consumed.

He hoped nobody noticed.

(Emily had. She wouldn't remember by tomorrow morning.)

Rossi grinned, looking up from his plate of food, "Y'know, I gotta hand it to you, Amelia, that was some good skills today. I was ready to shoot— but, you really pulled that off. Gideon didn't lie when he said you were talented."

Amelia smiled. It had been so long since anyone had mentioned Jason Gideon. She missed him. So much. But, the little postcards he sent were hung up on her fridge and every little one just reminded her that he was healing. And he was happy.

That had to be good enough. That had to be the best alternative to having him here with her.

"Well," Amelia shrugged with a giggle, "Guess the old man had to be right about something sooner or later, huh?"

Aaron smiled, looking down at his plate of food before he reached for his glass of wine.

Amelia raised an eyebrow, she didn't like the sudden movement after her mention of age. And she sure didn't like the direction this might be heading.

"A toast, I think?" Aaron declared, and Amelia just waited with bated breath for the inevitable reveal of her birthday. She prayed it wouldn't come. But, she didn't believe in God, so who was she praying to?

Emily scoffed, picking up her wine glass, "Here we go."

Aaron rolled his eyes, "It's a short one, I promise."

Derek rolled his eyes, following in sync with the rest of the team as they picked up their glasses, "Right. I remember your 'short' Christmas toast."

Amelia raised her eyebrows, she was so asking Emily about that when she was a few more wines down.

"Alright, alright," Aaron laughed, his glass held a little higher, "A toast to this team—"

"Minus Spencer and P, they're here in spirit," Amelia tagged on.

"A toast to this team, minus Reid and Garcia, who are here in spirit, who worked hard at times when it felt like all hope was lost, to reunite a family today." Aaron smiled, "And a toast for the hope we can do it for many more families in future."

"Cheers." Aaron nodded.

A sound of cheers chorused round their table, as everyone navigated their glasses round to clink against each other's.

Amelia paused before she looked up at Aaron, clinking her glass with his first. "Thank you." She whispered.

Aaron's smile widened (if physically possible), as he whispered back, "Happy birthday."

✺

Note to Amelia; never drink so much wine again, stick to what you know.

Wine-drunk was much worse than vodka-drunk.

Amelia should know that, considering how many nights she'd spent with Harper and Clara getting wine drunk before her inevitable move to vodka when she'd moved to Virginia. So many times she'd been wine-drunk. Countless times.

And yet, here Amelia was. Her head cradled in her hands, sunglasses over her eyes as she sat on the couch in the lobby of the hotel, with Derek talking loudly as he played on one of the machines in the casino in their hotel.

"Derek." Amelia scowled, rubbing her temples, "You ever heard of an indoor voice? That would be really good right now."

Derek laughed, looking over from his gambling machine to raise his eyebrows at Amelia, "Can someone's pretty little head not handle the hangover, sunshine?"

Emily sighed, pouring herself a cup of coffee. Oh, she was gonna need so much more caffeine. "Morgan, can you please— my head."

Rossi looked up from his newspaper, eyeing the two women, "Late night."

"I hate Vegas." Emily grumbled, shielding her eyes with her hand.

"Emily's fault." Amelia grumbled at the same time, "She kept ordering wine."

Despite her condition, Amelia heard a familiar voice. Regrettably, she had to lift her head to look around and locate the voice, but she had to.

The voice wasn't far. It was close. So close. And it was a recent voice, gruff and irritated. One she'd heard less than 24 hours ago—

Charlie.

Amelia's eyes widened as she sat up straighter on the couch, almost immediately pushing herself up and moving far too quickly for someone who had a wine-hangover.

Derek raised his eyebrows, one hand immediately holding onto her waist and the other onto Amelia's elbow, "Careful, pretty girl, who you movin' so quick for?"

"I gotta talk to someone." Amelia said, quickly.

"Who?" Derek frowned. Amelia didn't know anyone in Vegas bar the team.

"Just—" Amelia stepped out of his grip, seemingly going to talk to Charlie no matter what questions Derek had about the matter, "I'll be quick."

"Sunshine—?" Derek called, watching as she walked away and navigated her way through those in the casino. And before he knew it, she was out of view, hidden by one of the many machines as she talked to a stranger.

Derek furrowed his eyebrows, turning to Emily, "You know anything about that?"

"Nope."

Amelia was seriously pushing whatever energy she had right now in her state as she rushed to follow Charlie to his next machine. How was she going to approach this— what do you say to a random man who you think might be obsessed with the same case that you are—?

Hello? Hi? Do you wonder where Daisy Adler is too?

That would sound like some shitty informercial.

So, Amelia settled for standing right beside him with wide eyes and bated breath.

Charlie inserted his cash into the machine, pressing all the buttons Amelia had never really understood on these things before flinching and looking up at Amelia, "Uh—?" His eyebrows furrowed, his grip on his wallet tightening. His hands weren't shaking like they were yesterday.

He'd had his fix. Of whatever he needed, he'd had it.

"Can I help you?"

"Oh, uh—" Okay. We're going down the awkward 'I just stared at you like a creep' route, good job Amelia! "Yeah— sorry, this is really odd, I didn't really think of what to say before I chased after you. Oh, that doesn't sound normal— I'm sorry."

If possible, Amelia had managed to make herself sound creepier.

"Okay—! Let me just start again. I'm Amelia— Amelia Levine—"

Charlie tensed. And suddenly Amelia felt like her father. That was how people reacted whenever Thomas Levine introduced himself, that was how people reacted when you had a bad reputation.

Amelia did not want to be her father's reputation.

"I was at the coffee shop yesterday, and I overheard you and the barista—"

"Look," Charlie itched the base of his neck anxiously, "I'm not sure what you want, or what you overheard, but, uh, I don't need what you're selling. Okay? You haven't even gotten to the point yet— but, I just don't want it."

He stunk of alcohol.

Amelia could see he'd spent the night drowning his sorrows.

She almost felt guilty that on the night of her birthday, on the night of Daisy's birthday, she'd been drinking for fun. Whilst, Charlie had been drowning himself in the drink because that was obviously how he coped.

"I'm not—" Amelia sighed, "I'm not— I just want to talk you about something, someone— I want to talk about—"

"I don't." Charlie cut her, and spoke simply and plainly. "I don't want to take about her. Not to you, not to your family, not to a damn shrink. Okay? I don't know what you want, don't come near me, Levine."

He stood up from the plush stool.

"Hey— hey." Amelia frowned, trying to make him stay. She couldn't lose this chance. "Okay. I'm not— I'm not my family. Okay? I'm not my dad, I'm not my mom. I'm me. I'm Amelia. And I work with the FBI, and I have spent years— I have dedicated years of my life trying to find Daisy."

Daisy. Daisy. Daisy.

The name spun in both their heads. The name that had haunted them both all their lives. It was funny how a ghost could haunt you when you weren't even sure they were dead.

"I became an agent just to find her. I don't— I don't know how you know my parents, or what affiliation you have to them— but I'm not them. I want to help. I want to find Daisy, I want to bring her home."

"And I think you want that too."

Amelia sure hoped he'd been fucking talking about Daisy in that coffee shop yesterday, or this was going to be incredibly embarrassing.

"I told you—"

"Charlie." Amelia said. "I know that's your name, I heard it at the coffee shop yesterday. I was there. I watched your shakes. You got irritated at the thought of never bringing Daisy home. You want her home as much as I do. I don't know why. Do I care why? Not really." She shrugged, "All I've ever cared about is bringing Daisy home."

Charlie crackled his knuckles, stuffing his wallet into his pocket, staring straight at Amelia. "You're FBI?"

She hoped that wasn't an insult as she dug her badge out of her pocket. "Real thing."

"God's sake," He sighed, running his hand down his tired face, "What can you do that the FBI didn't do thirty years ago? Hell— you weren't even alive—"

"Does that matter?" Amelia narrowed her eyes, "I was fourteen when I made a profile, more accurate than the FBI's might I add, on the two unsubs that took Daisy."

"The FBI only said one—"

"They were wrong." She said. "Back then, they were wrong. The whole case was handled wrong and it let the unsubs get away with Daisy. And I've spent years doing it right, going over every detail and I'll admit; I'm at a dead end. And I need some help. I do. And I just want that chance, Charlie."

Charlie bit his lip, and for a moment he seemed to seriously consider her words. For a moment, Charlie stopped listening to the buzz the drink gave him and focused on what truly mattered to him; bringing Daisy home.

It was all that had mattered to him since the day his adoptive dad had explained to him that he should have a sister. That his sister had been taken from him so cruelly before his dad had even really had the chance to love her.

Charlie wanted to bring his sister home. His older sister, who wasn't his blood, but was his sister. Charlie wanted to bring her home for his dad.

He had to.

He knew how happy that would make his dad.

Charlie looked down at his shoes with a quiet sigh, "Harry Adler— he's my dad."

Oh.

Oh, holy, fucking, Christ—

"I wanna bring her home for him. I want to bring home his daughter, and I want to meet my sister—"

"I can do that." Amelia said, and the words fell from her lips like a promise. As an agent she'd always been told not to make promises, promises like this, but it was Daisy, and it was so easy for Amelia to believe she could bring Daisy home. "I can do it. I can bring Daisy home, but I need your help, and we can do it together and we can put your family back together."

Amelia was confused as to why Charlie was just Harry's son. Why wasn't he Katrina's son too?

And Amelia didn't need to know of Charlie's adoptive status, she wouldn't care for it. Because, at the end of the day her and Charlie had the same goal.

They were both just trying to bring home a girl that they'd never met before.

Amelia glanced over her shoulder when she felt a pair of eyes on her, JJ was beckoning her over, telling her that they had to leave.

Amelia focused back on Charlie, searching her pockets for her card, "Look, I gotta go or else I'm gonna get screamed at by JJ— but take my card. It's got my number, my email, and a friend's number if for some Godawful reason you can't reach me."

She grabbed onto his hand, sliding the card onto his palm, "Call me, text me— I don't care. Just use it, okay? Anytime. For anything; if you're in trouble with like the cops or somethin', I can help you out a little, if you wanna talk about Daisy, call me. And God, Charlie, if you're in serious trouble, like serious-serious trouble,"

"Call me." Amelia said it with a sternness that Charlie could only imagine an older sister having.

He wondered if she had siblings.

He nodded, staring down at the card in his hand, "Okay." He whispered.

"Good, good," Amelia smiled softly, "I gotta go, but I really do mean it. Call me. No matter the problem."

"I got." Charlie laughed quietly at her insistence.

Amelia nodded one final time before walking away. She couldn't quite believe her chances. She really couldn't.

There was a small part of her that couldn't help but feel like it was some message from Daisy. On their special day.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
happy birthday amelia! this is the last day you will ever be happy. KIDDING! or am i. and im posting this birthday chapter on everywhere, everything's birthday! one year of continued support, comments, votes and being added to reading lists has truly been incredible and im so grateful for all who have clicked onto amelia's story and read it, I LOVE YOU THANK YOU 💖💞💗💓💕

and just so you all know charlie's anthem is claw machine (by sloppy jane and phoebe bridgers) and i REFUSE to elaborate you're welcome

also new tyler the creator song is SO amelia it's INSANE

and i will also not explain why these lyrics in particular are ami but im sure you can figure out 😉