"Hey." Garcia said softly, setting down the takeout bags on the table. Morgan was propped up against the pillows, his head resting back against the headboard with a cool washcloth on his forehead.

"Hey." He whispered, his voice weak and raspy. The fever was taking its toll on his body, and he had virtually no energy to do anything.

"I'm sorry you're still so sick." She sighed, grabbing the thermometer from the table and walking over to him. "I hope your fever is going down, or else we're going to have to take you to the ER." He groaned, clenching his jaw. His entire body was aching painfully, and little move made him miserable.

"Is it almost time for medicine?" He asked, blinking slowly.

"Not yet, you still have about two hours, angel. What's bothering you?"

"Everything." He croaked.

"Body aches?" She asked stroking his cheek.

"Yes."

"Bad?"

"That's an understatement." He mumbled, nuzzling into her hand.

She sighed, sticking the thermometer in his mouth. After a few moments, it beeped. "One oh two point three. I'm calling Hotch, we'll get you to the hospital."

"I don't want to go to the hospital." He moaned. "Not again."

"Okay...I'll make you a deal. If your fever doesn't go above one hundred and three degrees, we won't go tonight. If you still have one tomorrow, we're going in."

She was getting worried now. His fever was being stubborn, it wouldn't go down below one hundred and one point nine, but never went above one hundred and two point five.

Morgan nodded tiredly, stealing a glance at her before closing his eyes.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this tired. He didn't want to sleep, though, because every time he closed his eyes, he could feel the room spinning, which was not a feeling he liked.

"Do you want to watch a movie? It'll take your mind off feeling so crappy."

"Sounds fine." He mumbled, staring at her through half-closed eyelids.

"What do you want to watch?"

He shrugged. "I really don't care...something that doesn't require too much concentration...tired...head h'rts."

She smirked. "Okay...so 'Little Einsteins'?"

"No...I don't want t'watch a documentary about Reid." He mumbled, closing his eyes.

She laughed. "Noted."

There was a knock on the door, and she patted his leg before getting up and opening it.

"How is he?" Hotch asked, stepping inside. Prentiss followed him in, and shut the door behind her.

"He still doesn't feel well...he still has a fever, but he's really just exhausted at this point. He says his body is aching."

"How high is the fever?"

"One hundred and two point five."

"He's had a fever for nearly two days now." Prentiss said, glancing worriedly at her partner. "Do we need to take him back to the hospital?"

"I told him he wouldn't have to go tonight unless his fever went above one hundred and three. If he still has one tomorrow, he needs to see a doctor." Garcia sighed. Morgan looked way out of it, and was half slumped over on his side, nearly asleep.

Later that night, he was lying in bed, clutching his aching head.

"Baby girl, kill the lights...close the curtains, something." He begged.

"Headache?"

"Nnnngh." He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. The pain was ripping through his skull, making him nauseas.

"Do you have a migraine?" She asked softly; he just groaned.

Penelope shut off the lights, and closed the curtains, immersing the room in total darkness.

Morgan rolled on his side. The complete darkness had helped his headache somewhat, but his head was still killing him.

"Do we have any-"

"Migraine pills? I think so, I just can't see anything. I'm going to need to turn the lights on for a few minutes, hide your face." He pulled the blankets over his head, shivering lightly. After a few minutes, he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, lover. Take your pills and you can go to sleep."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, my love." She said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"No, really." He said, his voice full of sincerity.

Morgan needed to tell her how he felt about her. He'd been meaning to talk to her for months now, but every time he was about to, something stopped him, and he was unable to get the words out.

"Derek, what's bothering you?"

"It's stupid." He mumbled tiredly.

"If it's bothering you, it's not stupid."

"I'm just tired...fever's getting to me."

"Get some sleep, hopefully you'll be feeling better when you wake up."

She was just praying that his fever would go down some by morning, and that he didn't wake up in the middle of the night again. As entertaining as it was, he needed rest.

It was nearing eleven AM the next morning, and he was still sleeping. Penelope chewed the inside of her cheek as she contemplated whether or not to wake him up. He needed to eat and take medicine, but this was the best sleep he'd gotten in the past few days.

She sighed, and put a hand on his shoulder, shaking lightly. "Wake up, you beautiful behavioral analyst."

After a few more minutes of her shaking him, he groaned and rolled on his back. "Morning."

"How do you feel?" She asked softly, putting a hand on his forehead, neck and chest. "Your fever is going down, I think."

He coughed once to clear his throat, which sent him into a congested sounding coughing fit. "Nnnngh." He groaned, rubbing his temples. "The migraine is gone...but my head still hurts."

"Do you feel any better?"

"Yeah...I guess. What time is it?"

"Ten fifty." She said and stuck the thermometer in his mouth. She breathed a sigh of relief when she checked the numbers. "One hundred and one. It's finally going down."

"So no hospital?"

"We'll check back in an hour to make sure it's going down still. If not, we're going to have to take you...I have a question."

"Go for it."

"What was bothering you last night?"

"...Nothing."

"Come on, sugar. I've known you for years, and you think that lame excuse is really going to convince me? Mnh-mnh. Fess up, you have to tell me now."

He groaned. "Do we have to get into this now?"

"Derek..." She frowned. "What's so bad that you can't tell me?"

"I...I...I'm really tired." He choked out.

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Why are you being weird? You're starting to freak me out."

He groaned. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"Not when you're being all...not yourself. Come on, just tell me. I'm sure it's not that bad."

"I'm in love with you." He blurted out.

"You're...you...I...what? But...but you're Derek Morgan."

He chuckled, which sent him into a coughing fit. "And you're Penelope Garcia. I'm really glad we've had this talk and settled our identities."

"No...I mean...how can you love me?" She asked, her voice barely audible.

"Because you are everything to me." He said softly, pushing himself into a sitting position. She averted her eyes, playing with her fingers. "Oh."

She didn't know what else to say.

"Baby, talk to me." He rasped, clearing his throat with a wince.

"I love you, too...I have for years, but it just...it doesn't make sense."

"What doesn't make sense?"

"People that look like you don't like people that look like me. You're breaking the rules of society."

He held back a laugh to keep from coughing again. "Do I look like I care about the 'rules of society'? No. I love you, you silly girl."

"I love you too." She repeated, giddiness bubbling in her chest as she fought the urge to giggle.

"I'd kiss you right now, but I'm sick, and trust me, you don't want this." He mumbled tiredly.

"Derek Morgan." She said firmly. "I've been taking care of you for three days now, so chances are, I've already been exposed. You bet your ass you'd better kiss me."

He grinned widely, and then cupped her cheek before pressing his lips to hers.

Holy crap, guys. This chapter was so difficult to write...anyways, please review and let me know what you think. I'm going to guess this only has about 1-2 chapters left.

OH MY GOSH, THE NUMBER OF REVIEWS ARE IN THE DOUBLE DIGITS, I'M SO EXCITED, YOU HAVE NO IDEA.