𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐆𝐨?
ɴᴏᴀʜ
𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗮𝘂

     "𝐍𝐨𝐚𝐡," my name on her lips comes naturally. "Oh, Noah."

The soft sigh of my mother, yearning for me as I have had her for months twists the knife. I know there are a lot of things I feel, but it's all numb right now. And although I know this won't withdraw the grief I've experienced, for a moment, I put it all on pause.

I force myself to step closer while my mother comes around the table. We're standing face to face, and it's when I hear her sharp breaths and see the flecks of gold in her eyes that I realize this can't be a hallucination.

Her hand raises to touch my cheek, but she stops herself, offering the ball to be in my court. Her hand slowly falls, giving me the space to make the first contact. I get over the doubt in my head and lift my arm to graze her skin. The tips of my fingers brush against the back of her hand and I almost jump at the revelation that this is all real.

My mother is alive, and she's standing in front of me. And something as simple as sharing the same air as her suddenly feels remarkable.

"My baby girl," she whispers.

I give in completely, folding with the pet name, a subtle gesture of love I've missed. My hand touches her wrist, grasping it for a moment before moving to wrap around her back, my other arm doing the same to squeeze her torso. I rest my cheek against her chest, her sweater providing the warmth I've needed for months.

Her arms wrap around me, squeezing me just as tight back. Her cheek rests on my head, fully enveloping herself around me. I can hear her heartbeat knocking against my ear, her nerves just as evident as mine.

ᴇᴍɪʟʏ

Noah's body fits perfectly in my arms, just like I remember. Every day, minute, and second that I spent alone, waiting to get the call that would bring me back to my baby, feeling her in my arms was all I thought about. I daydreamed about the time we spent together, dreamt about her to remember every piece of her, and had nightmares about the grief she must have been going through.

And now, I can feel her heartbeat against me, the aggressive rhythm matching my own.

The past seven months have felt like torture, but this feels like the punishment for all the times I kept her in the dark. Seeing her confused and hurt kills me inside, knowing that I caused this. I went along with the idea of hiding it from her, thinking it would be better than knowing we were apart.

"Why did you do this to me?" she whispers against my chest.

A simple but desperate plea to understand what happened. A cry for help that I never expected. I was so focused on seeing her again, I didn't think about the possibility of her not forgiving me.

I shut my eyes tightly as my voice is muffled against her hair. "I'm sorry."

"Why did you do that to me? Why did you lie to me?"

"I'm sorry," I repeat, shaking my head as I feel the consequence of her pain. "I made a promise."

"What did I do?" she asks. "What did I do to make you all do this to me?"

I pull back, my hands finding her cheeks. "You didn't do anything," I firmly assure her. "This wasn't about not trusting you, it was about your safety just as much as mine."

Noah's head lowers and tilts to the side, her lips against my wrist. I can feel her chin quiver against my skin and I sense tears brewing at the sight of hers.

"I want to help you understand," I say softly. "Can we sit?"

Noah slowly lifts her head and nods, the moment of her hesitation feeling like a tiny prick against my skin. I pull out a chair for her at the table and sit in the one beside her. We look at each other, the shock never fading from Noah's eyes. Her lips part, but no words come out, just a deep breath.

ɴᴏᴀʜ

I'm not sure what to say or what questions to ask. I don't know if I can handle being left in the dark again, asking questions and being told that I'm not allowed to know the answer. I can't take any more. I just want to know the truth.

"Where did you go?"

"Paris," she replies.

"Paris?" I question, my eyes having a hard time meeting hers. "You were in Paris?"

"I was stabilized and airlifted to another hospital. I was given a new identity and was told that I couldn't come back unless Doyle was either in prison or dead."

"And you knew that I didn't know this?"

"It was for the best, Noah. I knew how painful it would have been to know I was out there, but you couldn't see me—"

"You think that's worse than thinking you were dead? Because I thought there was no possibility of seeing you ever again."

"I don't know, Noah, nothing seemed right," she explains in a soft tone. "It also wasn't entirely up to me. I was told this was the plan. I either went along with it or didn't have protection from the government."

"Did you know that we had a funeral for you?"

I watch as my mother freezes. I can tell she's walking on eggshells, but I just want the truth, no matter how much it hurts. Nothing can hurt more than mourning my mother.

"Yes," she says quietly. "JJ told me—"

"Did you talk to her often?"

"Not really," she shrugs. "We could only talk through an online Scrabble chat. We couldn't exchange any information, just small talk."

"So you couldn't ask her about me?"

"No."

"If you could, would you have?"

"Of course, I would," she says as she grabs my hand and squeezes it. "I wanted to ask about you every day. I wondered how you were doing and what your situation was. I didn't know if they would take you in, I just hoped..."

"Derek took me in," I inform her, but I don't want it to feel like I owe it to her because I don't. I don't owe her or any of them anything. "Strauss pushed for it to be Elizabeth, but she told her Derek was better for me. They pulled me out of school, put me in some sort of witness protection, cleaned out the townhouse, sent lawyers to talk to me, and made Dr. Stepehenson have 3 sessions a week with me. My life turned upside down."

"I know that it's a lot and seems crazy—"

"Seems?!" I ask firmly, my expression devestated. "I mourned you. You're supposed to be dead. I watched you get lowered into a grave. I sat there, month after month, talking to you like a fool because that was all I thought I had left of you!'

Her face flinches, just slightly, like she wasn't prepared for this. And it only fuels my frustration. How could she not see this coming? She knows who I am—she knows exactly how I deal with things. This is the most insane thing that's ever happened to me, and yet some of them are acting like it's nothing. It feels like some of them are showing a calm indifference, like this is just another day, and it's making my blood boil.

"And the worst part? I convinced myself—lied to myself—that I would be okay. But now, after all that pain, all those months, you come back and I have to rearrange my life again."

"Noah, I understand—"

"No," I snap as I stand up. "You'll never understand what this feels like."

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

Derek pushes off the wall with his foot as he hears the door open. He straightens up but steps back as Noah comes bursting out of the room.

"I got mad," she mutters under her breath as she walks past him, heading right to the bullpen, anger evident in her steps.

She swings open the glass door, the team's gaze following her every move. But she walks right by them, avoiding Penelope's hand, which tries to reach out to stop her. Noah walks right up the few stairs to Aaron's office, seeing him walking towards her from the round table room.

"I need to talk to you," she says firmly as she walks into his office.

Aaron doesn't react to her demand, just steps into his office and closes the door behind him. But the privacy doesn't do much as the team watches them through the open blinds.

"Noah—"

"You could have told me," she snaps, not letting him get another word in. "You could have sent me with her, told me I had to wait to see her again. You could have even told me that I could never see her again, but at least I would've known she wasn't dead!"

Aaron remains quiet, standing by the door, scared that another move will offend her again. He knew this was coming, but never figured out how he'd handle it.

"What did you think I was gonna do?" Noah asks firmly, but the man knows it's rhetorical. "Run after her in another country? Expose her new identity to Doyle?"

"Hiding her identity was classified for her safety," Aaron replies.

"I didn't even need to know her new name, I don't care about that, I care about the fact that I thought she was dead!"

"This was for your safety too—"

"I can't even believe that you let me mourn, go to a funeral, cry myself to sleep for seven months!" she shouts, her voice echoing past the walls and closed office door.

Aaron moves to stand near his desk and sighs. "Noah—"

"Aaron, you watched me fall apart every day! You put me in witness protection, closed me off from the world to grieve in a place that wasn't even home. And I had to do it all by myself! You did that even though you knew!" she yells, her voice becoming strained from her volume. "You knew!"

"Because I knew she'd come back," he defends his decision.

"Did you?"

Aaron takes a beat to gather his thoughts. "I promised myself, at some point, I would bring her back because I promised you I wouldn't make another mistake. And that meant not taking a single chance that anyone would find out Emily's new identity, no matter what."

Noah remains silent, not knowing how to combat his promise.

"When Haley died, I didn't have very much hope," Aaron says softly as he sits on the edge of his desk. "But then I watched you navigate what I was partially responsible for putting you through. And you showed me that, even though you lost so much so early—not just Emily—you always found more. You joined the track team, got your license, applied for jobs, and asked us about college. You started to enjoy life again, even if it was just a little bit. You found purpose again."

Noah groans softly and falls into the armchair in front of him.

"You were my hope that Jack will be okay," he continues. "But Jack lost his mother, and she's not coming back."

Noah understands what he's trying to say, but it still frustrates her. "I'm happy she's back, but there's a lot more to it than that."

"What more is there to it?"

"Seriously?" she asks sarcastically. "Answers, Hotch. Real answers, and I'm not getting any."

"It was for your safety—"

"You keep saying that," she says as she shakes her head before standing abruptly. "And you didn't see me come back to life, you saw me surviving. I just got good at pretending."

The teen angrily swings the door open and walks out of the office. She walks down the staircase, ignoring the glares from the team, who are all jarred by her outburst. Her mother steps up, holding out an arm to stop her, but Noah brushes it off, continuing to walk away, apparently just like Emily did seven months ago.