Here is it, folks. The final chapter.

It took Derek awhile to track down her doctor and talk to him. While he was gone, Emily couldn't do anything but fidget. Multiple thoughts constantly ran through her head, but the one she kept returning to what she was going to do if the doctor said no. She had to go to the funeral. It was something she needed to do. Several times she came up with a plan to sneak out and each time she remembered that she had promised that she wouldn't do that. And each time, Emily wished she hadn't because she firmly believed that once you given your word, you kept it.

When Derek finally returned his face was unreadable. Emily thought her hopes were about to be dashed against the rocks and sink below the surface, never to be seen again.

"Did you find him?" she asked with resignation echoing in her voice.

"I did."

"And?"

"He said you could go." Derek quickly held up his hand to stop her when he saw her eyes light up in hope. "But there are two conditions."

Emily's relief changed to wariness. "What are they?"

"I have to stick to you like glue."

"That's what I expected you to do." The first one wasn't too bad, but she had a gut feeling she wasn't going to like the other one. "And the second one?"

"He wants you to use a wheelchair."

And she didn't. "No way. I'm quite capable of walking," Emily protested.

"Without the room spinning?"

"Well…" she hedged. "I don't get nauseous anymore."

"Good for you. It's the wheelchair or nothing. You're choice." Derek arched an eyebrow as he waited for her answer.

Emily glared at him, wanting to wipe that smug look off his face. Derek knew he had her over a barrel. If she wanted to attend the funeral, she would have to use that infernal contraption.

"Fine," she huffed. "I'll take the chair."

Derek nodded at her decision, knowing if he said something smart alecky she would have taken it the wrong way. They made arrangements for him to return with her go bag because Emily refused to set foot outside in a hospital gown nor did she want to wear the dead woman's blouse again. Back at the murder house she didn't have much of choice.

When Derek returned with her bag, the nurse helped Emily get dressed and then adjusted the brace so her bad arm rested across her stomach. That way they could button her coat over it instead of trying to get the injured limb in the sleeve without accidentally wrenching the shoulder. Her outdoor attire was topped off with a scarf wrapped around her neck and tucked into her coat, a glove on her good hand and a knit cap to keep her head warm and to cover the bandage on her forehead. The nurse obviously didn't want her patient to catch a cold.

"Looks like someone is ready to go," Derek commented, entering her hospital room with the wheelchair.

"Do I really need that?" Emily asked, eyeballing the chair with distaste.

"Part of the deal, Partner."

Emily sighed. "Fine. But don't expect me to like it."

"Never in a million years," he agreed with a chuckle. "Now do you need any help?"

The dirty look she shot him told him that she didn't. Holding the wheelchair steady he watched her slowly get off the bed and settle grudgingly into the chair. With her back to him, Derek didn't see her close her eyes to fight off the wave of dizziness. There was no way in hell that she was going to admit the wheelchair might actually be a good idea. Damn that doctor for his foresight.

"Ready?" Derek asked.

"Ready."

With a grin he wheeled her through the door and out to the car.

Derek figured the drive to the cemetery would be a quiet one and it was for the most of it. Emily stared out the window blind to the scenery flashing by, lost in whatever thoughts were swirling about in her head. Her right leg was jiggling from the nervous energy coursing through her while she absently rubbed her bad shoulder. When they had pulled away from the hospital, he had tried to engage her in conversation. But when he got non-committal shrugs and distracted one-word answers, Derek decided to leave Emily in peace. So he was very much surprised when she spoke up.

"I've been meaning to ask, but I kept losing my train of thought. Whatever happened to your girlfriend?"

He took his eyes briefly off the road to look at her, his eyebrows bunching up into a confused frown. "What girlfriend?"

"Monster."

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Damn cat," he muttered.

She chuckled. Derek's dislike for cats was something she was well familiar with. Sergio knew that and always went out of his way to toy with him. "Did the Sheriff have animal control pick her up?"

"No. The beast is in my hotel room. She's probably destroying the drapes as we speak," he sighed.

"Why didn't you lock her in the bathroom? There's not much in there for her to damage."

"I did. But that cat raised such a ruckus I couldn't sleep and I doubt the guests on either side of me did either."

"You poor boy," Emily said without a drop of sympathy. "But could we back up a little bit? How did you end up with Monster?"

"Garcia," he said with a halfhearted chuckle. "When she learned the cat was still out there apparently fending for herself, she asked me to go back out there and get her."

"Don't you mean she made you?"

"Whatever. That damn cat had me chasing her all over that damn house for four hours before she let me catch her," he huffed.

Emily laughed at the image that had popped into her head of Derek tiptoeing around with an oversized butterfly net and the cat darting between his legs. Derek glowered at her, but Emily's laughter was infectious and he joined in.

"What are you supposed to do with her?" she asked when their laughter had died down.

"I'm under strict orders to bring her home with us. Garcia intends on finding her a good home."

"Good luck in convincing Hotch to let Monster on the jet."

"Yeah," he agreed with a snort.

Emily's good mood vanished when they drove through the gates of the cemetery and was replaced by nervousness and guilt. It got worse as they weaved their way through the maze of lanes and by the time they pulled up behind the last car in line, Emily was almost bouncing out of her seat. Derek hopped out and went to the back of the SUV to get the wheelchair.

"I don't need that," Emily protested again when he open the passenger door.

"Doctor's orders," Derek reminded her firmly. "Either you use it or I will take you right back to the hospital."

"Fine," she grumbled as she let him help her out of the car and into the wheelchair. Then Derek produced a blanket and tucked it in around her legs, prompting her to complain. "For god's sake, Morgan. I'm not an invalid."

"You are today," he shot back with his patented cocky grin.

Taking a hold of the handles, Derek maneuvered the wheelchair along the plowed drive down to the wide path that had been cut through the snow to the gravesite. The snow had been packed down by the many boot clad feet that had trod upon it, but it was still rough going for the wheelchair.

"They should design these things with snow tires," Derek muttered at some point, but Emily didn't hear him. Her eyes were glued to the large gathering huddled around the flag draped casket.

Though it was a cold and blustery day, the turnout for Deputy Bennett's funeral was good. Townspeople, his fellow officers and law enforcement from the neighboring cities and towns, all had showed up to pay their heartfelt respect for the fallen officer.

A young man I should have done a better job in protecting, Emily sadly thought as she gestured to Derek to stop. "This is fine."

"You sure, Emily? I can get you closer," he offered.

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "Right here is good." They were close enough to hear everything clearly. She felt like an outsider and didn't want to intrude on the town and family's grief.

"Okay," Derek agreed, stopping and setting the brakes on the wheelchair. Then he stood behind her with a comforting hand resting on her shoulder.

The funeral was nice as funerals go. The eulogies given by the priest and the sister were heartfelt and touching, evoking tears and soft chuckles at the same time. But the hardest part for anyone involved the folding of the flag and its presentation to the grieving mother. Then the brisk air of winter was filled with the mournful tones of taps.

"I'm sorry, Deputy," Emily whispered softly, "that I didn't do a better job in protecting you. I hope you can one day forgive me. I doubt I ever forgive myself. May you rest in peace." She said a silent prayer for him and did the sign of the cross.

When the last notes had faded into the crisp blue sky, the mourners started to disperse, heading back to their cars. Some were heading for home or back to work while the family and close friends would gather at the mother's house for food and reminiscing.

Emily reached up to touch Derek's hand. "I'm ready to go now."

He looked down at her. "Are you sure? I thought you might want to pay your condolences to the family."

She squirmed in the wheelchair. As much as she wanted to, she wasn't ready to face them. She was afraid of what they would say to her since she was the one responsible for getting their loved one killed.

"No. I'm good."

"Okay," Derek agreed. He unlocked the brakes, turned the wheelchair around and head back to where the SUV was parked. As he pushed, he wondered if Emily had gotten the closure she desperately wanted.

Derek was about to help Emily into the car when the woman who had delivered one of the eulogies approached them.

"Hi," she said with a tentative smile. "I don't think we have ever met. I'm Alicia, Archie's sister."

Emily, suddenly overwhelmed with the prospect of talking with a member of the Deputy's family while she felt some responsibility for his death, shied away and dropped her eyes to the blanket spread over her legs. She focused on worrying a loose thread, leaving Derek to do all the talking.

"I'm Derek," he said, holding out a hand to shake. "This is Emily."

She shook his hand. "How do you know my brother?"

"Uh…we worked on a case with him."

"You're not from around here," she stated with a slight frown. "I know all the local law enforcement."

"No, we're not local," Derek confirmed.

"Oh. You must be with the FBI. He mentioned that you were coming to help out."

Derek nodded while Emily remained silent. "We flew in a little over a week ago."

"Arch was so excited to get a chance to work you guys. Not the circumstances, obviously, but it's not like the chance comes all the time to these parts." Alicia smiled, remembering the look on her brother's face when he had told her.

"He was a great cop. I'm sorry for your loss," Derek said, squeezing Emily's shoulder.

"I'm sorry too," Emily said, briefly looking up. "He didn't deserve what happened to him."

"Thank you."

Alicia took a closer look at the woman sitting in the wheelchair, noting the white bandage peeking out from under the knit cap and the empty left coat sleeve. "You're the agent who was injured in the attack that killed my brother."

"Yes," she admitted and braced herself for the inevitable confrontation about why she survived and her brother didn't. Unfortunately Emily didn't have an answer to it because she was still trying to figure it out.

"How are you doing?" Alicia asked.

Emily blinked in surprise. That was the last question she had been expecting, a concern about her health. "I'm…I'm healing."

"I'm glad."

Alicia's kindness made Emily's guilt worse. This woman and her family should hate me, she thought as she fidgeted in the wheelchair. "I should have done more to protect your brother," she blurted.

The sister frowned in confusion. "You were ambushed if I remember correctly."

"Yes, but I shouldn't have let us split up."

"Arch was well aware of the dangers when he joined the force."

"I'm sure he did, but I was still the more experienced officer," Emily protested.

Alicia glanced back at the grave where the cemetery workers were lowering the casket into the ground. She wiped away a tear before turning back to the guilt-ridden agent.

"Agent…Emily, I knew my brother very well. I know for a fact that he wouldn't want you kicking yourself over something you had no control of. It wasn't your fault. He would be happy that you hadn't died with him."

Emily gave her a sad smile. "I wish I could believe that, but thank you for saying it either way."

"I hope you do one day. I really do," Alicia said sincerely. "Well, I have to get going. It was a pleasure to meet both of you."

"Same here," Derek said.

Emily nodded in agreement and added, "Again I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," she said and headed for the limo that was waiting.

The two friends remained silent as he helped her into the car and buckle her in. Before putting it into gear, he glanced over at her. "Did you find what you were looking for?" he asked softly.

Emily sighed and turned to face the window. "I don't know, Derek. I might have. I'll just have to see."

"Fair enough. If you need to talk some more, you know where to find me."

A smile crept across her face. "I do. In your hotel room with a love struck cat and tattered drapes."

The next two days passed quickly for Emily. The team spent their waking hours with her like they had back at the house. Hotch was the only exception. He ended up splitting his time between her hospital room and the Sheriff's office helping to tie up loose ends. For Emily's benefit and the victims, he wanted to make sure the case against Anthony was rock solid..

The team had been waiting in her room when Derek and Emily had returned from the funeral. They all looked at her in concern as JJ asked how it went and Emily had given her stock answer that it went fine. Their eyes then went to Derek who could only give them a helpless shrug. Then the nurse had shown up and had chased them out so that she could verify her patient hadn't contracted pneumonia in the short, few hours she had spent outside. When they were let back in, Emily was tucked into bed with her pajamas on instead of the hospital gown. From there and into the next day, they kept the conversation off the case, distracting her with humorous stories, movies on the TV and uncountable hands of gin rummy.

Now she was all bundled up, sitting in a wheelchair just inside the entrance of the hospital waiting for whoever was supposed to be picking her up to arrive. A black SUV pulled out outside the automatic door and, much to Emily's surprise, Hotch popped out and hurried around to the passenger door. He held it open while she climbed in, wisely not offering to lend her hand since he knew she would refuse.

When they were on their way to the hotel, Emily turned to him with an amused smile. "So were you the lucky one and drew the short straw to pick me up?"

"Actually I was the only one available. Morgan was trying to corral the cat with JJ's help, Reid was offering useless advice from the doorway and Rossi got disgusted by the whole thing and went to the hotel bar."

Emily laughed. "I would have loved to have seen that."

"It was quite humorous," Hotch agreed with a small smile. It was good to see her acting more like herself.

Her mood instantly sobered. "But I have a feeling there is another reason why you wanted to be the one to pick me up."

He glanced briefly at her. "There is."

"You want to know where my head is."

"Yes."

"Besides sitting squarely on my shoulders?" she joked with a halfhearted laugh.

"Besides that."

Emily turned her gaze to the scenery whizzing past her window and let out a slow, deep sigh. "I'm always going to feel guilty about Deputy Bennett's death. It's that whole survivors guilt thing, but I'm not going to dwell on it for the rest of my life. It's in the past."

"And there's nothing you can do now to change it," Hotch added.

"No, there isn't, but…"

"But what?" he prompted.

She sighed again and rubbed her injured shoulder. "I still think there was something more I could have done."

Hotch kept his eyes on the road. "Like what?"

Emily thought about it for a few minutes before shrugging her good shoulder. "I don't know," she confessed.

"That's because there wasn't anything you could have done," he said firmly and softly. "Splitting up was the right call. Bennett was familiar with the Hanson's having grown up here. You deferred to his expertise and I would have done the same thing. We never considered Martha Hanson a suspect. We thought she was a potential witness and nothing more."

"I guess."

"And you were blitzed. It's hard to fight what you didn't see coming. By the time you realized what had happened, you were already falling down the stairs."

She turned back to him. "You're right, Hotch. Morgan pretty much told me the same thing."

"Sound advice if I do say so myself."

"Heh," she said with half a chuckle. "It's just going to take a little more time for it to sink in."

"I understand," he said with a nod. They rode in silence for several miles before he spoke up. "Bennett's death is not your fault, Emily."

"I know that." Anger crept into her voice. "The blame falls squarely on the shoulders of Anthony's parents. They made him into the killer he is today by encouraging him. They had many options available to them. There are special schools they could have enrolled him in. He would have gotten an education, learned what he was capable of doing and who knows, he could have possibly gotten a job that he would have been proud of. But he'll never know. Anthony is going to spend the rest of his life in a mental institution because his parents didn't want the stigma of having a mentally challenged son attached to him."

"Sounds like you have some sympathy for Anthony," Hotch noted.

"Some," she admitted. "I don't think he really understood what he was doing was wrong. He thought what he was doing was playing."

"I agree. He doesn't understand the concept of death. He said his father was broken and had to go away and that is mother was still sleeping."

"It's a shame," she said with a sad shake of her head.

"It is."

Emily stared out the windows for a few minutes. "So did I pass? Is my head on straight for your liking?"

"So far," Hotch said with a small smile. "I'm here if you feel the need to talk further."

"Thanks, Hotch. I appreciate it." She really did, but she knew she would never take him up on his offer. She'll work through this in her own way like she always did.

Hotch also knew she wouldn't. He and Emily were alike in that way. Both preferred to work through their problems alone and it private. He simply nodded and changed the subject to something lighter.

"Morgan said after having a couple of days of sun and warmer temperatures the snow is perfect for packing."

"Yeah?" she asked distractedly.

"He was wondering if you were feeling up to it if you wanted to build the snowman he promised to help you with."

Emily turned to him with a confused frown wrinkling her brow. "Where the heck did he get the idea I wanted to build a snowman?"

"From you."

"From me? When did I say that?"

"When you two were talking not long after your accident. You saw that it was snowing outside and asked if you could go build a snowman," Hotch explained with a soft chuckle.

"I did? I don't remember that."

"You were rather out of it."

"Very true. A snowman, you say?" she mused.

"Yes." He saw the contemplative look on her face. "Are you thinking of doing it?"

Surprisingly it sounded like fun. Emily couldn't remember the last time she had built a snowman. Geez, it must have been back in her teen years. They wouldn't be flying home until later in the day so it might be a good way to pass the time. It would beat sitting around in the hotel with everyone watching her until it was time to leave. She had enough of that over the past week at the house and hospital. Even though it was cold out, a couple of hours spent in the fresh air would do her a world of good.

"Well, I can't build it with this shoulder, but I can supervise. Might as well put to work those muscles Morgan is so fond of flexing by having him build a big snowman." Emily paused and then grinned. "Or a cat snowman."

Hotch chuckled. "You do know you have a wicked sense of humor?"

"So I've been told over the years," she said as they pulled into the hotel's parking lot.

After the week she had, Emily was actually looking forward to a couple of hours of mindless fun. Then they would return home to DC where Penelope would engulf her in a bone crushing hug followed by being reamed up one side and down the other for getting hurt again. There would be another painful hug and then she would be plied with her favorite cupcakes. Though on the outside she would squirm from all the attention and insist that she was fine, on the inside Emily wouldn't want it any other way.

And that is a wrap. Thank you to all who have read this story from start to finish. Your patronage is much appreciated. I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Hope to see you all after the new year with a new story. Until then.