In one day, Emily Prentiss had lost her sight, her job, and her husband.

It was also the day she found out she was pregnant.

She and Derek had been trying for a baby for nearly five years at that point and she had already miscarried three times. She had been so anxious about trying again after the last one and had almost considered giving up. Derek had convinced her to try one last time before they gave up and the knowledge that he'd be by her side the entire time, no matter the outcome had given her the courage to go through with it. She didn't think she'd be able to do it without him...

Lying in the hospital, more alone than she'd ever been and facing the biggest struggles of her life, she fully expected to miscarry again within the week from a combination of stress, grief, and physical trauma. She'd made her peace with that eventuality, as much as possible, since she hadn't truly expected anything to be different this time; when they'd tried for this baby, she hadn't truly expected anything to be different, hadn't allowed herself to really hope. She'd anticipated another disappointment, her husband at her side sharing the loss, and with time maybe she'd be able to think about adoption without feeling like such a failure.

Even in her worst nightmares, though, she hadn't imagined facing any of it alone.

Even as her doctors told her that her blindness would likely be temporary and she'd regain her sight once the swelling in her brain went down, Emily knew that wouldn't be the case.

The same way she'd known the morning of the race that something bad was going to happen. The same way she knew Derek wasn't going to wake up despite everyone's attempts to resuscitate him. She knew she was never going to see again.

By the third day, the doctors seemed to have arrived at the same conclusion and the hospital social worker sent someone to speak with her about her life going forwards.

The knock on the door startled her; her other senses hadn't quite caught up with the new impairment and the residual ringing in her ears from the explosion didn't help. She didn't particularly want to speak with anyone at the moment – Derek's mother had finally left her alone for the first time to make funeral arrangements and she was waiting for the tears to come now that no one was there to see her cry.

"Mrs. Morgan?" The voice from the doorway was unsure, like she knew she was intruding.

Emily thought about asking if she got to keep the last name now that her husband was dead, but thought her brand of dark humor might be considered in poor taste. "Just call me Emily," she said instead.

"Alright. Emily. I'm Jennifer, the social work department referred your case to me."

"Shrink?" Emily guessed.

"Technically, yes, I have a degree in psychiatry. But I'm not here for that. I run a program to help the newly blind adapt to their circumstances. We teach people how to get around the city, how to read braille, and other coping strategies and if you qualify, we help find a place to live equipped for your needs and pair you with a seeing-eye dog."

"Can you do all that in seven months?" Emily asked, unable to help the bitter edge to her voice.

"Right," Jennifer said. Emily heard the flipping of papers. "Your file mentioned you're expecting. Congratulations. We actually have a support group for blind mothers that many of our members find very helpful, among other resources for new mothers."

"And what about after that? What about the next eighteen years when I'm raising a child alone?"

Jennifer made a sympathetic noise and rested a hand on her shoulder, surprising her. "I know it's overwhelming now and you've got a difficult journey ahead of you, but right now, try to just take it one day at a time." Emily gave a derisive snort. "I know it sounds trite, coming from me, but looking too far ahead is just going to paralyze you with fear. Just trust me and I promise I'll get you through this."