Elysium, 17/21
Title: Elysium
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Characters/Pairing: Morgan/Prentiss
Genre: Romance/Angst
Summary: They thought that it was only going to be one night. They were wrong. An unexpected pregnancy leads Emily and Derek to reevaluate their lives.
Author’s Note: Thanks to everyone who voted for this story at the Criminal Minds Fanfic Awards. It tied for 3rd Place for Best Work in Progress, and it could not have been done without the motivation of all readers, reviewers, and pokers. Thanks, guys.
Chapter Sixteen
Emily was at her desk - it still didn’t really feel like her desk, even though she’d been using it for well over a month - when she got the phone call. It was JJ, her voice just the slightest bit warbly, and before she even said anything beyond, ‘Em, it’s JJ,’ Emily knew that something has gone very, very wrong.
‘What happened?’
She was on her feet, grabbing for her bag before the situation had even been explained. ‘Morgan’s in hospital.’
‘JJ…’ she said warningly, and the media liaison explained in a little more detail - Morgan had been shot by their unsub. Shot, and beaten up. She wasn’t quite sure what words were coming out of her mouth - her heart was racing, and everything was kind of blurred together, but apparently she’d asked for a location, because JJ told her which hospital. Her mind was blank for a second, and then she remembered that the team had been in Baltimore.
Keys, keys, where are her keys? She tore through her bag, looking for those elusive keys.
‘Prentiss, what’s wrong?’ Emily looked up to see Ramirez, and wondered just what had given her away. She lifted a hand to her face and realizes that tears were streaming from her eyes. Shit.
‘M-…’ Her throat was dry, and she couldn’t quite get the words out. She licked her lips and tried again. ‘Derek’s been shot.’
Ramirez’s eyes sharpened. ‘Where?’
‘Baltimore,’ she choked out. ‘Johns-Hopkins.’
Her SAIC nodded. ‘I’ll drive.’ Emily’s mouth opened to argue, but Ramirez was adamant. ‘You’re not driving in that condition, Prentiss.’ It took her several seconds to realize that he wasn’t talking about the pregnancy, he was talking about the fact that she was standing in the middle of the bullpen, crying her eyes out.
She nodded. ‘Okay, but…’
‘Speed demon,’ Ramirez agreed. ‘We’ll be there before you know it.’
She wasn’t quite sure how she even made it to the car without having a complete and total breakdown, so she was grateful that Ramirez had appeared when he did. He didn’t try to make small talk, and she wasn’t entirely displeased when he flipped the sirens on. Almost the whole way there, her hand sat atop her stomach, as if for some insane, illogical reason a kick from her child would mean that somehow, Derek was going to be okay.
It was late afternoon when they got there, and Emily was rushing through the halls of the hospital, trying to find the right place. Ramirez talked to a nurse, because Emily still wasn’t quite capable of stringing a sentence together, and she wondered whether that was because of the hormones, or it was because she was completely and utterly in love with Derek Morgan.
And maybe she’d known that all along. Or at least, long enough.
The team was in the waiting room, and the air was tense, and it felt just like every other time they’d been in a hospital waiting room, only unimaginably worse, because this time it was Derek Morgan, and this time, she hadn’t been there.
JJ stood up and wrapped her in a bear hug, which took a few seconds to process. ‘Garcia’s on her way, too,’ JJ said, in lieu of anything else. She frowned then, and looks at her watch. ‘How did you get here so quickly?’
‘Ramirez,’ Emily breathed. The other agent had gone to get himself a cup of coffee, point blank refusing to leave Emily alone in the hospital, even if the rest of her team - her old team - were there. She didn’t sit down - she couldn’t sit down - even though her back was aching, and she felt like she needs to throw up. ‘How is he?’ she asked, trying to look into their eyes for any answer.
‘Still in surgery,’ Hotch answered - she couldn’t quite read his expression. He had that stoic mask on. ‘It was through and through to his shoulder, but he lost a bit of blood.’
Emily nodded. It was good news. Not as good as it could have been, but it could have been much, much worse. It could have been a bullet in the chest, or a bullet in the thigh, or a “could you please identify this body for us,” but it wasn’t.
They waited.
At some point Emily found herself questioning the fate of the unsub, to which Hotch answered, ‘He’s dead.’ Emily nodded, and then remembered that she should probably call Frank to see if he could feed Clooney.
At some point after that, Garcia arrived, and there were hugs, and words, but Emily couldn’t quite process the details. Her mind was focused on the hope that Derek was going to get out of this one alive. It would be some kind of cruel irony if he were to die now, after so many years of walking that perilous edge.
It was another hour and a half later when someone came out to see them; there was a half-smile on the Doctor’s face, and Emily found herself sinking in relief. Any words beyond, ‘He’s going to be fine,’ went in one ear and out the other. Her breathing slowed down, as well as her heart-rate, and she realized that the past couple of hours had been the most terrifying of her entire life. More terrifying than any of the near death experiences, more terrifying than any unsub she’d ever faced.
‘Did someone call his mother?’ Emily asked suddenly, as they were led down the hallway to the room Derek was being moved to. She cursed herself for not thinking of it before.
Hotch nodded. ‘She said she’d be on the next available flight.’ Which meant she should get in sometime that night. Emily started to mentally prepare for the arrival. She wasn’t quite sure how well she’d be able to handle Fran Morgan when she could barely handle herself.
That “handling herself” business got that slightest bit harder when she stepped into the room and saw him lying there, IV in his wrist, hooked up to a heart monitor, all those other things. It was something that was not supposed to happen to Derek Morgan. He tackled unsubs and cuffed them and shoved them into the back of police cars. He didn’t get shot or stabbed or restricted to a hospital bed. It wasn’t supposed to work like that.
Time seemed to slow down as she waited by his side - she wasn’t leaving for any reason. Not to sleep, not for food, not even because visiting hours were over. No-one came to kick her out, though, for which she was grateful, because she was absolutely not in the mood to argue about it. She was vaguely kind of half aware of other members of the team hanging at the edges of her periphery. At one point JJ asked her if she needed anything, and Emily manages to convey her need for the worn Chicago PD t-shirt that must have been in his go-bag, because she hadn’t found it in the hamper, and it must have gotten mixed up with his hurried laundry load. Not particularly caring about modesty, she unbuttoned her shirt and pulled it off - the tee was big enough that it would fit over her clothes, but she needed to feel the fabric against her skin.
The team had been in Baltimore for two days now, and Morgan was prone to tossing his dirty clothes right back in with the clean ones, so the tee smelt like him too. She leant her head into her shoulder and took a breath, letting the scent permeate her nostrils. Sweaty, manly, eau de Morgan. It was damn near the best smell in the universe, excepting only the smell of bacon, eggs and pancakes, but he’d probably forgive her for that, because he knew making her breakfast got him morning sex. She refused to admit that that was only because the hormones had made her sex drive insatiable.
They’d been living like this for barely three months, and yet Emily didn’t think she could imagine life without him. On some levels, she felt kind of pathetic for feeling so, but screw that, she was pregnant - she was allowed to feel overemotional.
Sleep came, but it was fitful, and the nightmares were twisted - unsurprising, considering the day’s events. She dreamed of mutilated corpses, her child screaming as it was torn from the womb. The world burned around her, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. Unfortunately, it was standard fare, as far as nightmares were concerned, which meant she’d learned to come out of them smoothly, without drawing too much attention to herself.
The first thing she noticed was that Derek was awake and engaged in conversation with his mother. ‘…nothing serious, mama,’ she heard him say. ‘It hurts more when I cut myself shaving.’
‘That’s because you’re jacked up on morphine.’ Emily pulled herself up, blinking the sleep from her eyes. Her whole body ached, but right now, that wasn’t important. ‘I should kick your ass myself for scaring me like that.’
‘Sorry, princess,’ he grinned, but there was a sadness behind the grin.
The tears were hot on her cheeks. ‘You try pulling this stunt again, and I’ll divorce you.’ She let her words hang in the air, and even though he was on the morphine drip, it only took a couple of seconds for him to comprehend her words.
‘You mean it?’ he asked, his eyes wide. ‘You’ll marry me?’
‘Who else is going to make sure you don’t hurt yourself trying to tackle a submarine?’ She leaned in to kiss him, and with her stomach and his being stuck in a bed, it’s a little awkward.
The moment she moved backwards, she was pulled into a rather tight hug by Fran, who seemed to think that news of her son’s impending wedding overshadowed the fact that he’d just been shot. Not in a malicious sense, of course (he was looking remarkably well, after all), but Emily knew for a fact that Fran had been dropping hints for Morgan to ask since the day he’d told her about the pregnancy.
She felt the few short, sharp kicks at her stomach and gave a grin. ‘I think somebody else is pretty excited by the news.’ Derek seemed confused until she took his hand and laid it against the peak of her baby bump.
‘Look at that,’ he said softly. ‘Baby’s excited for his mommy and daddy.’
Fran’s head jerked up at the sentence. ‘He?’
Morgan nodded. ‘We’re having a boy.’
Fran choked out a sob. ‘Between the two of you, I’m going to run out of tears before the year is through.’
Neither of them mentioned the name that had picked, which was probably a good thing, because Emily was sure that it would have prompted a near breakdown from Derek’s mother.
‘We’ll try to cut down,’ Emily promised, but she doubted she’d be able to keep that promise. It was going to be a pretty emotional few months. Hopefully, it would all be happy, baby-focused emotion, but part of her had the sinking feeling that something horrible - something else horrible - was going to happen. Their lives weren’t exactly easy.
As it stood, though, Derek would need to take at least two months off work - two months before the wound had fully healed. By the time he went back, she’d be nearing full term. It was a little disconcerting. Kind of put things into perspective - in a little under three months, they were going to be parents. Not just that - in a little under three months, they were going to be a family.
It was nothing short of terrifying.
The doctor came by for the second time - apparently she’d been sleeping pretty heavily in spite of the restlessness. Emily was tired enough that comprehending his words was a little too much for her brain, and when she checked her watch, she was surprised to see that it was almost 1am.
‘You should get some rest,’ the doctor told her. ‘Sleeping in that chair isn’t very good for the baby, and I can assure you that Agent Morgan is in very good hands.’
She was about to argue that she didn’t actually have anywhere to stay, but Fran revealed that she’d arranged for JJ to book a double room at the hotel in which the team were staying. Her body groaned as she stood, giving Derek a long, slow kiss, as though she was never going to see him again. Today, that had almost become a reality.
It still might, she realized, the thought making her stomach rise in her throat - Derek Morgan was nothing if not an adrenaline addict. He’d been getting in the heat of things as long as she’s known him. One day that fire might become just a little bit too hot.
Becoming a mother was terrifying enough. Becoming a single mother was a kind of stress she wasn’t sure she was cut out to handle. Her own childhood was a testament to the perils of parental neglect. Maybe neglect was too strong a word, but still, the fact remained that she didn’t want her own child to go through that.
Apparently, a fair few things had occurred while she’d been asleep, because not only had someone taken the time to retrieve her go-bag (which she still kept packed, out of habit more than anything else) but they’d procured dinner as well. Starved as she was, she wolfs down her meal a little too quickly. When all this was over, she was going to find some way to get the team a freaking medal. Ramirez, too. Her SAIC, she learned, had driven back to D.C., leaving the order for Emily to take the rest of the week.
She wondered how she lucked into having such fantastic people in her life.
Even though she’d slept a fair bit in the hospital, Emily went to bed as soon as she was able; it was nearing 2am, and she wanted to make it back to the hospital before they decided to check Morgan out. This time, the slumber was a little less restless, and when she woke up, she felt a lot less horrible. She couldn’t really believe that it’d taken her so long to learn the merits of regular sleep.
The moment she woke up, she was almost content to skip a shower and breakfast and go straight to the hospital, but a quick whiff of her underarms and the reminder that it wasn’t just her own health that she needed to worry about threw out that option. The shower she took was hurried, and breakfast was taken care of by a visit to the McDonalds drive-thru. JJ, who was at the wheel, didn’t argue - she more than anyone was aware of the inexplicable urges for bacon and egg McMuffins. If Fran had any worries about the health of her grandson, she didn’t say anything.
By the time they reached the hospital, it was almost ten a.m. The rest of the team were there, but when Emily entered, they made their excuses to filter out - excuses that she didn’t buy for a second. Morgan was sitting up, his arm in a dark blue sling, and a smug grin on his face.
‘I just know you have some nefarious plan up your sleeve. Or up your sling, rather.’ She kissed his cheek before sitting in the chair that had been her bed for a good portion of yesterday. Now that she was well-rested, it felt much, much more comfortable.
‘Absolutely. I couldn’t have them all ruining the moment.’ With his good arm, he pulled out a small velvet-covered box from underneath the sheet where he’d been hiding it. ‘I kind of ruined this the first time round, but I wanted to do it properly, so here goes.’
‘You already know my answer,’ Emily told him.
His grin widened. ‘That doesn’t matter. Now just play along, will you? Emily…I never planned for this, but I would be a liar and a fool if I said that these past few months weren’t some of the best things that have ever happened to me. I want the rest of my life to be with you, and with our child. Will you marry me?’
She thumped his good arm, grinning wildly. ‘You dork. Yes. Of course.’
Emily held a breath as he took her left hand and slipped the ring on. The diamond was small, complemented by what looked like a pair of Celtic knots.
‘They’re Trinity knots,’ Morgan explained, following her eyes. ‘Said to symbolize spiritual growth, eternal life and never-ending love. I also thought it looked kind of Elvish, and what with your inexplicable crush on Hugo Weaving…’
‘The books were better than the movies, and you know it,’ she told him matter-of-factly, not quite able to take her eyes off the ring. It hammered the truth home pretty freaking well - she was engaged. That notion of a happy family that she’d long since dismissed as fairy tale was drawing closer and closer to becoming a reality. Of course, the fairy tale didn’t have her visiting her wounded fiancé in hospital because he’d gotten shot by a serial killer.
‘We might have to postpone that Hawaii honeymoon,’ she blurted out, and Morgan raised an eyebrow. ‘Well,’ she shrugged. ‘I can’t exactly rock the bikini look right now, and I’m pretty sure the doctor’ll have something to say about you hanging ten while your arm is still healing.’ She didn’t mention that they would probably have to postpone the honeymoon for at least eighteen years, because bringing up a child was no easy task. It took time, attention. Patience.
The team and Derek’s mother rejoined them, and Garcia had a knowing smile on her face, as though she’d been privy to Morgan’s conspiracies from the start, which probably wasn’t too far from the truth. There was much hugging, and the technical analyst grabbed for her left hand, and made “oohing and ahhing” sounds at the ring. Of course, the surprise was completely ruined by the next statement, ‘See, I told you she didn’t want a giant, flashy diamond. If it were me, of course…’
‘I’ll make sure to tell Kevin,’ Emily said wryly, attempting to regain possession of her arm.
‘So when’s the big day?’ was the next question, again, from Garcia, to which Emily gave a shrug.
‘We haven’t exactly had a chance to talk about it.’ She let her eyes dart about the room before falling back onto Morgan. ‘Things have been a little busy.’
It would probably be something small, she already knew - it was the same problem that came with planning extravagant honeymoons in Hawaii. No time before the birth, and even less time afterwards. Right now, she didn’t care if it was in some dinky office while she wore her maternity stretch pants and Morgan’s arm was still in a sling, and all they had was a couple of witnesses. Right now, all that mattered was family.
It was a very eclectic family, though; with the team’s influence, their son was going to grow up with some pretty strange role models. Without supervision, Reid would have him reciting the periodic table by his fifth birthday, and Garcia would be responsible for teaching him to hack Government databases by ten. That was just the beginning.
She stayed by Morgan’s side until noon, when the doctor came to discharge him. There were a couple of prescriptions to be filled on the way out, and Emily took great pleasure in pushing his wheelchair.
‘Who’s pushing who around now?’ she asked, and he couldn’t quite pull off the sullen look, his pout breaking into a grin.
‘In about three months, the tables’ll be turned again,’ he assured her.
‘Yeah,’ she agreed. ‘Only I’ll be too busy screaming to give a crap about who’s pushing me around.’ She paled slightly at the thought. Labor didn’t sound like a pleasant experience in any way, shape or form. Luckily, it was the aftermath that she had her mind focused on.
So close, and yet so far away.
There was some creative car shuffling between the two SUVs and Garcia’s Cadillac convertible, Esther; Hotch and Rossi took one SUV, while JJ drove Morgan, Emily and Fran in the other. Reid elected to accompany Garcia - more out of a desire to make sure that she wasn’t alone than any aversion to the SUVs, Emily figured.
Thanks to the painkillers he’d taken, Derek fell asleep partway through the trip, waking only as they pulled into the driveway. The house felt big and empty, as though no-one had lived in it for a week. Too big for just the two of them. Maybe too big for the three of them as well, but that was conversation for another day.
Clooney was overjoyed to see them, barking and running around the yard. He greeted them each in turn as Emily let him inside, not overly fussed by Fran’s presence, nor the fact that Morgan’s arm was in a sling. He jumped onto the sofa as Emily sat down, and proceeded to lick her face. She indulged him for a few seconds before ordering him off. While the sofa wasn’t actually used for guests anymore - they had a spare bedroom with a real bed - once the baby came, it would probably be better if Clooney didn’t continually jump on furniture.
The remainder of the day would probably be spent lazing about - it was too late to do anything of value, and they were too tired, and, in Morgan’s case, too medicated. Even though the events of the last two days hadn’t been physical in nature, Emily found herself mentally and emotionally drained. After threatening and cajoling Morgan into going to bed. Once she heard his soft snores coming in slowly, but steadily, she returned to the kitchen, where Fran was looking through the cupboards.
‘I was going to cook dinner for you, but it looks as though nobody’s done any grocery shopping since I was last here,’ Fran commented, and Emily gave a slight blush. She had scheduled a grocery shop for a couple of days ago, but that emergency call from JJ had ruined those plans. At that point, though, she was too tired to even think about going out to buy something for dinner.
Emily sat at the kitchen table, letting her head fall in her hands. ‘We could…I don’t know. Chinese, or pizza, or something?’
‘You should get some sleep as well,’ Fran said, and it was almost a non-sequitur, before Emily realized just how scattered she probably looked at that point. ‘I’ll sort out dinner.’
‘Are you sure?’ Emily asked, her voice high with what felt like relief.
‘Of course I’m sure. Go - rest.’
Technically speaking, she hadn’t exactly had a shortage of sleep, but the sleep had been restless. She went to the bathroom and washed her face before changing into a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. The soft material made her feel warm, even though it was so close to winter.
She snuggled into bed beside Morgan, her chest pressed up against his back. Any other configuration would probably hurt his arm a little too much, and while it would be nice to see him out of the field for a while, she didn’t want to inflict any permanent damage. That said, though, they still didn’t know when he would be able to go back to work. The hospital had recommended a follow-up with a physiotherapist and a general practitioner, but those calls would have to wait until tomorrow.
It was dark when she awoke - not “midnight” dark, but the late evening dark that seemed to dominate. The kind that made it perfectly clear that it was far too early to be asleep, but far too late for the lights to still be off.
Derek was still asleep, unstirring. The medication would probably keep him out for a little while longer. Emily’s stomach reminded her that it was probably time to eat, but she didn’t get up straight away. She wanted to relish the warmth of his body against hers, the feel of his heart beneath her fingertips.
She didn’t want to ever come that close to losing him again.
…
The next morning, Morgan had returned to being sullen - as he’d told Emily on many occasions, forced leave (especially sick leave) did not agree with him. Emily knew that left unchecked, that was the kind of attitude that was going to have him back in the hospital again in six months time.
‘We need to talk,’ Emily said, over a plate of bacon, eggs and toast. Morgan looked up at her, startled, and Emily cursed herself for her choice of words. Real smooth, Prentiss. ‘God, Derek, not like that.’
He relaxed, but not significantly, and Emily couldn’t blame him. She hesitated, wondering if she was bringing this up too soon. ‘I just…I want you to promise me that you’ll be more careful in the field.’ It was a low blow, and Emily knew it.
‘You think I wanted to get shot?’
‘No - of course not, Derek. But I’m not some clueless girlfriend who thinks that she knows what catching serial killers is like because she watches CSI. I know how dangerous the job is, and I know how much you invest in taking down these guys, even if it means risking your own life.’ She bit her lip, not particularly wanting to say the next words, but she did, because she had to. ‘I don’t want our son to grow up without a father.’
A few months ago, Morgan might have reacted angrily, but today, he didn’t. His expression softened, and the look on his face was positively mournful. ‘I’m sorry, babe, I just…I can’t just switch it off.’
‘I know that,’ Emily assured him. ‘And I’m not asking you to quit, or to sit on a desk, or stop going out into the field. Maybe just…make sure you have some back-up when you tackle a moving train, or be a little more careful chasing after an unsub after he’s jumped down the fire escape.’
‘Only if you can promise me the same thing,’ he countered. ‘No getting hit over the head with 2x4s, or blowing your cover and getting beaten up.’
‘I think it’ll be a while before you have to worry about any of that,’ Emily said with a soft smile.
‘I’ll always worry, Emily - you know that.’
Of course he would - and so would she. No matter how careful they were, the nature of the job was that things had the potential to go very, very wrong.
But not today.
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Characters/Pairing: Morgan/Prentiss
Genre: Romance/Angst
Summary: They thought that it was only going to be one night. They were wrong. An unexpected pregnancy leads Emily and Derek to reevaluate their lives.
Author’s Note: Thanks to everyone who voted for this story at the Criminal Minds Fanfic Awards. It tied for 3rd Place for Best Work in Progress, and it could not have been done without the motivation of all readers, reviewers, and pokers. Thanks, guys.
Chapter Sixteen
Emily was at her desk - it still didn’t really feel like her desk, even though she’d been using it for well over a month - when she got the phone call. It was JJ, her voice just the slightest bit warbly, and before she even said anything beyond, ‘Em, it’s JJ,’ Emily knew that something has gone very, very wrong.
‘What happened?’
She was on her feet, grabbing for her bag before the situation had even been explained. ‘Morgan’s in hospital.’
‘JJ…’ she said warningly, and the media liaison explained in a little more detail - Morgan had been shot by their unsub. Shot, and beaten up. She wasn’t quite sure what words were coming out of her mouth - her heart was racing, and everything was kind of blurred together, but apparently she’d asked for a location, because JJ told her which hospital. Her mind was blank for a second, and then she remembered that the team had been in Baltimore.
Keys, keys, where are her keys? She tore through her bag, looking for those elusive keys.
‘Prentiss, what’s wrong?’ Emily looked up to see Ramirez, and wondered just what had given her away. She lifted a hand to her face and realizes that tears were streaming from her eyes. Shit.
‘M-…’ Her throat was dry, and she couldn’t quite get the words out. She licked her lips and tried again. ‘Derek’s been shot.’
Ramirez’s eyes sharpened. ‘Where?’
‘Baltimore,’ she choked out. ‘Johns-Hopkins.’
Her SAIC nodded. ‘I’ll drive.’ Emily’s mouth opened to argue, but Ramirez was adamant. ‘You’re not driving in that condition, Prentiss.’ It took her several seconds to realize that he wasn’t talking about the pregnancy, he was talking about the fact that she was standing in the middle of the bullpen, crying her eyes out.
She nodded. ‘Okay, but…’
‘Speed demon,’ Ramirez agreed. ‘We’ll be there before you know it.’
She wasn’t quite sure how she even made it to the car without having a complete and total breakdown, so she was grateful that Ramirez had appeared when he did. He didn’t try to make small talk, and she wasn’t entirely displeased when he flipped the sirens on. Almost the whole way there, her hand sat atop her stomach, as if for some insane, illogical reason a kick from her child would mean that somehow, Derek was going to be okay.
It was late afternoon when they got there, and Emily was rushing through the halls of the hospital, trying to find the right place. Ramirez talked to a nurse, because Emily still wasn’t quite capable of stringing a sentence together, and she wondered whether that was because of the hormones, or it was because she was completely and utterly in love with Derek Morgan.
And maybe she’d known that all along. Or at least, long enough.
The team was in the waiting room, and the air was tense, and it felt just like every other time they’d been in a hospital waiting room, only unimaginably worse, because this time it was Derek Morgan, and this time, she hadn’t been there.
JJ stood up and wrapped her in a bear hug, which took a few seconds to process. ‘Garcia’s on her way, too,’ JJ said, in lieu of anything else. She frowned then, and looks at her watch. ‘How did you get here so quickly?’
‘Ramirez,’ Emily breathed. The other agent had gone to get himself a cup of coffee, point blank refusing to leave Emily alone in the hospital, even if the rest of her team - her old team - were there. She didn’t sit down - she couldn’t sit down - even though her back was aching, and she felt like she needs to throw up. ‘How is he?’ she asked, trying to look into their eyes for any answer.
‘Still in surgery,’ Hotch answered - she couldn’t quite read his expression. He had that stoic mask on. ‘It was through and through to his shoulder, but he lost a bit of blood.’
Emily nodded. It was good news. Not as good as it could have been, but it could have been much, much worse. It could have been a bullet in the chest, or a bullet in the thigh, or a “could you please identify this body for us,” but it wasn’t.
They waited.
At some point Emily found herself questioning the fate of the unsub, to which Hotch answered, ‘He’s dead.’ Emily nodded, and then remembered that she should probably call Frank to see if he could feed Clooney.
At some point after that, Garcia arrived, and there were hugs, and words, but Emily couldn’t quite process the details. Her mind was focused on the hope that Derek was going to get out of this one alive. It would be some kind of cruel irony if he were to die now, after so many years of walking that perilous edge.
It was another hour and a half later when someone came out to see them; there was a half-smile on the Doctor’s face, and Emily found herself sinking in relief. Any words beyond, ‘He’s going to be fine,’ went in one ear and out the other. Her breathing slowed down, as well as her heart-rate, and she realized that the past couple of hours had been the most terrifying of her entire life. More terrifying than any of the near death experiences, more terrifying than any unsub she’d ever faced.
‘Did someone call his mother?’ Emily asked suddenly, as they were led down the hallway to the room Derek was being moved to. She cursed herself for not thinking of it before.
Hotch nodded. ‘She said she’d be on the next available flight.’ Which meant she should get in sometime that night. Emily started to mentally prepare for the arrival. She wasn’t quite sure how well she’d be able to handle Fran Morgan when she could barely handle herself.
That “handling herself” business got that slightest bit harder when she stepped into the room and saw him lying there, IV in his wrist, hooked up to a heart monitor, all those other things. It was something that was not supposed to happen to Derek Morgan. He tackled unsubs and cuffed them and shoved them into the back of police cars. He didn’t get shot or stabbed or restricted to a hospital bed. It wasn’t supposed to work like that.
Time seemed to slow down as she waited by his side - she wasn’t leaving for any reason. Not to sleep, not for food, not even because visiting hours were over. No-one came to kick her out, though, for which she was grateful, because she was absolutely not in the mood to argue about it. She was vaguely kind of half aware of other members of the team hanging at the edges of her periphery. At one point JJ asked her if she needed anything, and Emily manages to convey her need for the worn Chicago PD t-shirt that must have been in his go-bag, because she hadn’t found it in the hamper, and it must have gotten mixed up with his hurried laundry load. Not particularly caring about modesty, she unbuttoned her shirt and pulled it off - the tee was big enough that it would fit over her clothes, but she needed to feel the fabric against her skin.
The team had been in Baltimore for two days now, and Morgan was prone to tossing his dirty clothes right back in with the clean ones, so the tee smelt like him too. She leant her head into her shoulder and took a breath, letting the scent permeate her nostrils. Sweaty, manly, eau de Morgan. It was damn near the best smell in the universe, excepting only the smell of bacon, eggs and pancakes, but he’d probably forgive her for that, because he knew making her breakfast got him morning sex. She refused to admit that that was only because the hormones had made her sex drive insatiable.
They’d been living like this for barely three months, and yet Emily didn’t think she could imagine life without him. On some levels, she felt kind of pathetic for feeling so, but screw that, she was pregnant - she was allowed to feel overemotional.
Sleep came, but it was fitful, and the nightmares were twisted - unsurprising, considering the day’s events. She dreamed of mutilated corpses, her child screaming as it was torn from the womb. The world burned around her, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. Unfortunately, it was standard fare, as far as nightmares were concerned, which meant she’d learned to come out of them smoothly, without drawing too much attention to herself.
The first thing she noticed was that Derek was awake and engaged in conversation with his mother. ‘…nothing serious, mama,’ she heard him say. ‘It hurts more when I cut myself shaving.’
‘That’s because you’re jacked up on morphine.’ Emily pulled herself up, blinking the sleep from her eyes. Her whole body ached, but right now, that wasn’t important. ‘I should kick your ass myself for scaring me like that.’
‘Sorry, princess,’ he grinned, but there was a sadness behind the grin.
The tears were hot on her cheeks. ‘You try pulling this stunt again, and I’ll divorce you.’ She let her words hang in the air, and even though he was on the morphine drip, it only took a couple of seconds for him to comprehend her words.
‘You mean it?’ he asked, his eyes wide. ‘You’ll marry me?’
‘Who else is going to make sure you don’t hurt yourself trying to tackle a submarine?’ She leaned in to kiss him, and with her stomach and his being stuck in a bed, it’s a little awkward.
The moment she moved backwards, she was pulled into a rather tight hug by Fran, who seemed to think that news of her son’s impending wedding overshadowed the fact that he’d just been shot. Not in a malicious sense, of course (he was looking remarkably well, after all), but Emily knew for a fact that Fran had been dropping hints for Morgan to ask since the day he’d told her about the pregnancy.
She felt the few short, sharp kicks at her stomach and gave a grin. ‘I think somebody else is pretty excited by the news.’ Derek seemed confused until she took his hand and laid it against the peak of her baby bump.
‘Look at that,’ he said softly. ‘Baby’s excited for his mommy and daddy.’
Fran’s head jerked up at the sentence. ‘He?’
Morgan nodded. ‘We’re having a boy.’
Fran choked out a sob. ‘Between the two of you, I’m going to run out of tears before the year is through.’
Neither of them mentioned the name that had picked, which was probably a good thing, because Emily was sure that it would have prompted a near breakdown from Derek’s mother.
‘We’ll try to cut down,’ Emily promised, but she doubted she’d be able to keep that promise. It was going to be a pretty emotional few months. Hopefully, it would all be happy, baby-focused emotion, but part of her had the sinking feeling that something horrible - something else horrible - was going to happen. Their lives weren’t exactly easy.
As it stood, though, Derek would need to take at least two months off work - two months before the wound had fully healed. By the time he went back, she’d be nearing full term. It was a little disconcerting. Kind of put things into perspective - in a little under three months, they were going to be parents. Not just that - in a little under three months, they were going to be a family.
It was nothing short of terrifying.
The doctor came by for the second time - apparently she’d been sleeping pretty heavily in spite of the restlessness. Emily was tired enough that comprehending his words was a little too much for her brain, and when she checked her watch, she was surprised to see that it was almost 1am.
‘You should get some rest,’ the doctor told her. ‘Sleeping in that chair isn’t very good for the baby, and I can assure you that Agent Morgan is in very good hands.’
She was about to argue that she didn’t actually have anywhere to stay, but Fran revealed that she’d arranged for JJ to book a double room at the hotel in which the team were staying. Her body groaned as she stood, giving Derek a long, slow kiss, as though she was never going to see him again. Today, that had almost become a reality.
It still might, she realized, the thought making her stomach rise in her throat - Derek Morgan was nothing if not an adrenaline addict. He’d been getting in the heat of things as long as she’s known him. One day that fire might become just a little bit too hot.
Becoming a mother was terrifying enough. Becoming a single mother was a kind of stress she wasn’t sure she was cut out to handle. Her own childhood was a testament to the perils of parental neglect. Maybe neglect was too strong a word, but still, the fact remained that she didn’t want her own child to go through that.
Apparently, a fair few things had occurred while she’d been asleep, because not only had someone taken the time to retrieve her go-bag (which she still kept packed, out of habit more than anything else) but they’d procured dinner as well. Starved as she was, she wolfs down her meal a little too quickly. When all this was over, she was going to find some way to get the team a freaking medal. Ramirez, too. Her SAIC, she learned, had driven back to D.C., leaving the order for Emily to take the rest of the week.
She wondered how she lucked into having such fantastic people in her life.
Even though she’d slept a fair bit in the hospital, Emily went to bed as soon as she was able; it was nearing 2am, and she wanted to make it back to the hospital before they decided to check Morgan out. This time, the slumber was a little less restless, and when she woke up, she felt a lot less horrible. She couldn’t really believe that it’d taken her so long to learn the merits of regular sleep.
The moment she woke up, she was almost content to skip a shower and breakfast and go straight to the hospital, but a quick whiff of her underarms and the reminder that it wasn’t just her own health that she needed to worry about threw out that option. The shower she took was hurried, and breakfast was taken care of by a visit to the McDonalds drive-thru. JJ, who was at the wheel, didn’t argue - she more than anyone was aware of the inexplicable urges for bacon and egg McMuffins. If Fran had any worries about the health of her grandson, she didn’t say anything.
By the time they reached the hospital, it was almost ten a.m. The rest of the team were there, but when Emily entered, they made their excuses to filter out - excuses that she didn’t buy for a second. Morgan was sitting up, his arm in a dark blue sling, and a smug grin on his face.
‘I just know you have some nefarious plan up your sleeve. Or up your sling, rather.’ She kissed his cheek before sitting in the chair that had been her bed for a good portion of yesterday. Now that she was well-rested, it felt much, much more comfortable.
‘Absolutely. I couldn’t have them all ruining the moment.’ With his good arm, he pulled out a small velvet-covered box from underneath the sheet where he’d been hiding it. ‘I kind of ruined this the first time round, but I wanted to do it properly, so here goes.’
‘You already know my answer,’ Emily told him.
His grin widened. ‘That doesn’t matter. Now just play along, will you? Emily…I never planned for this, but I would be a liar and a fool if I said that these past few months weren’t some of the best things that have ever happened to me. I want the rest of my life to be with you, and with our child. Will you marry me?’
She thumped his good arm, grinning wildly. ‘You dork. Yes. Of course.’
Emily held a breath as he took her left hand and slipped the ring on. The diamond was small, complemented by what looked like a pair of Celtic knots.
‘They’re Trinity knots,’ Morgan explained, following her eyes. ‘Said to symbolize spiritual growth, eternal life and never-ending love. I also thought it looked kind of Elvish, and what with your inexplicable crush on Hugo Weaving…’
‘The books were better than the movies, and you know it,’ she told him matter-of-factly, not quite able to take her eyes off the ring. It hammered the truth home pretty freaking well - she was engaged. That notion of a happy family that she’d long since dismissed as fairy tale was drawing closer and closer to becoming a reality. Of course, the fairy tale didn’t have her visiting her wounded fiancé in hospital because he’d gotten shot by a serial killer.
‘We might have to postpone that Hawaii honeymoon,’ she blurted out, and Morgan raised an eyebrow. ‘Well,’ she shrugged. ‘I can’t exactly rock the bikini look right now, and I’m pretty sure the doctor’ll have something to say about you hanging ten while your arm is still healing.’ She didn’t mention that they would probably have to postpone the honeymoon for at least eighteen years, because bringing up a child was no easy task. It took time, attention. Patience.
The team and Derek’s mother rejoined them, and Garcia had a knowing smile on her face, as though she’d been privy to Morgan’s conspiracies from the start, which probably wasn’t too far from the truth. There was much hugging, and the technical analyst grabbed for her left hand, and made “oohing and ahhing” sounds at the ring. Of course, the surprise was completely ruined by the next statement, ‘See, I told you she didn’t want a giant, flashy diamond. If it were me, of course…’
‘I’ll make sure to tell Kevin,’ Emily said wryly, attempting to regain possession of her arm.
‘So when’s the big day?’ was the next question, again, from Garcia, to which Emily gave a shrug.
‘We haven’t exactly had a chance to talk about it.’ She let her eyes dart about the room before falling back onto Morgan. ‘Things have been a little busy.’
It would probably be something small, she already knew - it was the same problem that came with planning extravagant honeymoons in Hawaii. No time before the birth, and even less time afterwards. Right now, she didn’t care if it was in some dinky office while she wore her maternity stretch pants and Morgan’s arm was still in a sling, and all they had was a couple of witnesses. Right now, all that mattered was family.
It was a very eclectic family, though; with the team’s influence, their son was going to grow up with some pretty strange role models. Without supervision, Reid would have him reciting the periodic table by his fifth birthday, and Garcia would be responsible for teaching him to hack Government databases by ten. That was just the beginning.
She stayed by Morgan’s side until noon, when the doctor came to discharge him. There were a couple of prescriptions to be filled on the way out, and Emily took great pleasure in pushing his wheelchair.
‘Who’s pushing who around now?’ she asked, and he couldn’t quite pull off the sullen look, his pout breaking into a grin.
‘In about three months, the tables’ll be turned again,’ he assured her.
‘Yeah,’ she agreed. ‘Only I’ll be too busy screaming to give a crap about who’s pushing me around.’ She paled slightly at the thought. Labor didn’t sound like a pleasant experience in any way, shape or form. Luckily, it was the aftermath that she had her mind focused on.
So close, and yet so far away.
There was some creative car shuffling between the two SUVs and Garcia’s Cadillac convertible, Esther; Hotch and Rossi took one SUV, while JJ drove Morgan, Emily and Fran in the other. Reid elected to accompany Garcia - more out of a desire to make sure that she wasn’t alone than any aversion to the SUVs, Emily figured.
Thanks to the painkillers he’d taken, Derek fell asleep partway through the trip, waking only as they pulled into the driveway. The house felt big and empty, as though no-one had lived in it for a week. Too big for just the two of them. Maybe too big for the three of them as well, but that was conversation for another day.
Clooney was overjoyed to see them, barking and running around the yard. He greeted them each in turn as Emily let him inside, not overly fussed by Fran’s presence, nor the fact that Morgan’s arm was in a sling. He jumped onto the sofa as Emily sat down, and proceeded to lick her face. She indulged him for a few seconds before ordering him off. While the sofa wasn’t actually used for guests anymore - they had a spare bedroom with a real bed - once the baby came, it would probably be better if Clooney didn’t continually jump on furniture.
The remainder of the day would probably be spent lazing about - it was too late to do anything of value, and they were too tired, and, in Morgan’s case, too medicated. Even though the events of the last two days hadn’t been physical in nature, Emily found herself mentally and emotionally drained. After threatening and cajoling Morgan into going to bed. Once she heard his soft snores coming in slowly, but steadily, she returned to the kitchen, where Fran was looking through the cupboards.
‘I was going to cook dinner for you, but it looks as though nobody’s done any grocery shopping since I was last here,’ Fran commented, and Emily gave a slight blush. She had scheduled a grocery shop for a couple of days ago, but that emergency call from JJ had ruined those plans. At that point, though, she was too tired to even think about going out to buy something for dinner.
Emily sat at the kitchen table, letting her head fall in her hands. ‘We could…I don’t know. Chinese, or pizza, or something?’
‘You should get some sleep as well,’ Fran said, and it was almost a non-sequitur, before Emily realized just how scattered she probably looked at that point. ‘I’ll sort out dinner.’
‘Are you sure?’ Emily asked, her voice high with what felt like relief.
‘Of course I’m sure. Go - rest.’
Technically speaking, she hadn’t exactly had a shortage of sleep, but the sleep had been restless. She went to the bathroom and washed her face before changing into a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. The soft material made her feel warm, even though it was so close to winter.
She snuggled into bed beside Morgan, her chest pressed up against his back. Any other configuration would probably hurt his arm a little too much, and while it would be nice to see him out of the field for a while, she didn’t want to inflict any permanent damage. That said, though, they still didn’t know when he would be able to go back to work. The hospital had recommended a follow-up with a physiotherapist and a general practitioner, but those calls would have to wait until tomorrow.
It was dark when she awoke - not “midnight” dark, but the late evening dark that seemed to dominate. The kind that made it perfectly clear that it was far too early to be asleep, but far too late for the lights to still be off.
Derek was still asleep, unstirring. The medication would probably keep him out for a little while longer. Emily’s stomach reminded her that it was probably time to eat, but she didn’t get up straight away. She wanted to relish the warmth of his body against hers, the feel of his heart beneath her fingertips.
She didn’t want to ever come that close to losing him again.
…
The next morning, Morgan had returned to being sullen - as he’d told Emily on many occasions, forced leave (especially sick leave) did not agree with him. Emily knew that left unchecked, that was the kind of attitude that was going to have him back in the hospital again in six months time.
‘We need to talk,’ Emily said, over a plate of bacon, eggs and toast. Morgan looked up at her, startled, and Emily cursed herself for her choice of words. Real smooth, Prentiss. ‘God, Derek, not like that.’
He relaxed, but not significantly, and Emily couldn’t blame him. She hesitated, wondering if she was bringing this up too soon. ‘I just…I want you to promise me that you’ll be more careful in the field.’ It was a low blow, and Emily knew it.
‘You think I wanted to get shot?’
‘No - of course not, Derek. But I’m not some clueless girlfriend who thinks that she knows what catching serial killers is like because she watches CSI. I know how dangerous the job is, and I know how much you invest in taking down these guys, even if it means risking your own life.’ She bit her lip, not particularly wanting to say the next words, but she did, because she had to. ‘I don’t want our son to grow up without a father.’
A few months ago, Morgan might have reacted angrily, but today, he didn’t. His expression softened, and the look on his face was positively mournful. ‘I’m sorry, babe, I just…I can’t just switch it off.’
‘I know that,’ Emily assured him. ‘And I’m not asking you to quit, or to sit on a desk, or stop going out into the field. Maybe just…make sure you have some back-up when you tackle a moving train, or be a little more careful chasing after an unsub after he’s jumped down the fire escape.’
‘Only if you can promise me the same thing,’ he countered. ‘No getting hit over the head with 2x4s, or blowing your cover and getting beaten up.’
‘I think it’ll be a while before you have to worry about any of that,’ Emily said with a soft smile.
‘I’ll always worry, Emily - you know that.’
Of course he would - and so would she. No matter how careful they were, the nature of the job was that things had the potential to go very, very wrong.
But not today.