7x01 It Takes A Village

He lay wide eyed staring at the ceiling. He was scared to go to sleep for fear he'd wake up and realise it was all a dream; This doesn't happen. People don't come back from the dead. You don't get second chances like this.

But the memory of her face as she watched Ian Doyle die in front of her….. Her face breaking as she had to let Declan go to the care of Child Services….. The scared and lost look she gave everyone as she left the BAU, JJ insisting that tonight she stopped with her…. And the sorry glance she gave him over her shoulder as she walked away, made it all very real.

Seven months.

Seven months he had lay just like this in his bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep because of the nightmares. Because of the anger and pure hatred towards Ian Doyle. Because of the vision of her dying in his arms. Because he knew would never hold her as he once did. He would never feel her like he once did. He would never love her as he once did…

He closed his eyes. He just wanted these thoughts to go away. He wanted some peace….. but only seconds later his head suddenly snapped round to look toward the window, hearing a noise outside. It was a crunching sound. Footsteps slowly walking across the fallen autumn leaves. As he jumped out of his bed, wearing only his boxers, the time on the alarm clock registered…. 2:13am. He grabbed his glock from the bedside table, quickly hopping into a pair of dark grey joggers and peeking out of the window down onto his front lawn, just in time to see the dark shadow move from in front of his living room window and round towards the porch. He slowly climbed down the stairs, glock raised out in front, but as he got to the hallway and saw the silhouette outside his front door through the stained glass, he exhaled a breath of relief and lowered the weapon.

"Shit!" She gasped as he opened the door, her body jumping, "You scared me."

"I scared you?" He said in disbelief, "Emily it's after two in the morning. What are you doing sneaking around?"

She stared at him with no words and he could see her chest heaving. He reached out and took hold of her arm, "Come on in." He said guiding her through the front door, "It's freezing out there."

As he let go of her and locked the door back up, he looked over his shoulder and saw she had her arms wrapped around herself, but she hadn't turned to face him.

"Emily." He uttered, his tone deep and raspy from the exhaustion of the day…. From the exhaustion of the past seven months.

She didn't move.

"Why were you looking through my living room window?" He asked, stood a couple of paces behind her, scared to move any closer.

The Emily who had reappeared today was outwardly strong, fighting just as the old Emily he knew, for Declan. But he knew there was something different. He could sense it. She was fragile. She was pained. She was weary.

The atmosphere felt thick; just as it had been when she had entered the briefing room this morning when he saw her for the first time since the day they lifted her lifeless, battered body from the ambulance, and into the hospital. The image of her limp arm falling off the gurney as they wheeled her in had never left him.

He saw her drop her arms to her side, but stay facing away from him, "I…. I just wanted to see if you were awake." She voiced, but struggled with her words. "The house was all dark and…."

"I was awake." He interrupted in a whisper.

She remained still apart from her hands that were now bunching in and out of fists to relieve them of the cold, her shoulders hunched up as she tried to fold into her own body for warmth and may be a little safety.

"Emily." He repeated, taking a step towards her, "Why d'you come here tonight?"

He was slightly startled as she suddenly turned unexpectedly, her big eyes looking up at him and locking into his. Those large, dark orbs staring at him. He squinted as he got a flash of the last time he looked in to those eyes…. That night, glaring up at him from the cold warehouse floor, just before they closed and the life had drifted out of her slowly.

But he was bought slamming back to his senses as he felt her lips crash into his and her small hands rest on his exposed hips. Before he could respond, her kisses moved to his jaw line, then on to his neck and as she began to slow down, he closed his eyes, intoxicated by the softness of her lips upon his skin. Those lips he had missed. That touch he had missed.

But he soon came back to reality and his eyes shot open as he thought about where he had believed she had been for the past seven months…. In a box buried six feet under….. and he felt his throat constrict, unable to breathe.

He placed his hands around her wrists and held them tight, halting her, "Emily what are you doing?"

She looked up at him with a fire in her eyes, "I know we have to talk." She began softly, "I know I have to make things up to you. But right now, I just….." She paused, breathing heavily, "I just need you." She whispered, a pleading to her tone.

She didn't wait for a reply, just placed a tender kiss to the middle of his bare chest. She nipped and suckled at his skin lightly as she moved up, along his collarbone and up to his neck once again.

"But Emily." She heard him breathe.

Ignoring his veiled protest, she let her lips rest at the corner of his mouth and pressed gently. "It's ok." She whispered.

His hands were still gripping her wrists tight, holding both of their arms down, sandwiched between their bodies. Normally she would have pulled away. Normally she would have told him he was hurting her…. But today wasn't 'normally'. Today the pain felt good. The pain made her feel alive.

He nodded slightly then squeezed his eyes shut trying in vain to rid his mind of the recent memories. He wanted to feel her. He wanted everything to go back to how it was before, because she made him feel good. She made him feel content and at ease and the luckiest man in the world when he was with her….. But that was not how he felt right now.

And she felt him freeze. His entire body was rigid. Her lips paused on the taught flesh of his chest, her warmth breath causing the skin to go clammy and she glanced upwards. Tears began to well in her eyes upon seeing the expression on his face. That's not who she remembered. He always had a smile on his face for her when they did this. He always responded to her touch with groans of pleasure, tracing her skin with his hands and running his fingers though her hair. He always responded to her kisses giving her tenfold back, not leaving a patch of her body untouched by his lips. But tonight there was no response. He stood rigid, with pain, may be disgust painted on his face and she was sure he hadn't taken a breath since she had laid her hands upon him.

She stood up and pulled away, taking a couple of steps back. It took a few seconds for him to open his eyes and see the distance she had put between them.

He didn't speak.

She swallowed and took a breath before she spoke, "I'm sorry." She uttered, pressing her lips together to subdue the tears she wanted to cry, "I shouldn't of come. I just wanted….." She paused, rethinking her words, "I'll leave you alone."

Her shoulders slumped as if defeated and she turned to leave. A few beats passed before he snapped out of his trance as he watched her, and he took three large strides across his hallway to catch up to her, grabbing her forearm, "Don't go." He said, staring at her intently as she spun round to meet his gaze.

She frowned, her face still a little broken from his rejection, "But….."

She didn't finish her sentence. She was confused.

"I don't want you to leave. Stay." He whispered, a little pleading to his tone now, "May be we should just wait though, before we….. you know." He suggested gently.

Her eyes widened as she looked at him. All she wanted was his arms around her. Those arms that hugged her tight and made her feel safe. Made her feel wanted. Made her feel loved. If there was one feeling she had craved all the time she had been away, it was how he made her feel. But she guessed being under the same roof would have to be the next best thing right now, so she nodded, albeit unconvincingly.

"You can have my room." He offered.

She shook her head, "No I can't…."

"I insist. I can sleep in the spare room." He said, "You know you always said my bed was the comfiest you ever slept in." He added with the smallest of smiles in an attempt to lighten the mood.

It may have worked for a moment as her lips curled up at the edges and she glanced away shyly. At least that's what he thought, but in truth, she felt embarrassed for throwing herself at him. She felt stupid for thinking that after everything that had happened, that she had put him through, that she could just pick up where they left off before Ian Doyle came back into her life.

"Why don't you go upstairs. I'll bring you a glass of water up." He suggested, needing just a few seconds to breathe.

"Ok." She nodded, giving him a gentle thankful smile before turning and slowly making her way up.

He watched her tiny frame pace heavily up his stair case. She looked thinner. Less sure of herself….. broken.

And he thought about how he had missed her; Not just the sex. Not just the fun. But the intimacy. The thoughtfulness. The conversation. The dozing, lay in bed in the mornings, chatting absently. Her bringing him coffee. Him brining her bagels. It was the little things…..

His best friend. He missed his best friend, and by some miracle he had been given a second chance.

As if some light bulb had gone off in his mind, he shook his head in frustration at himself and quietly, but swiftly, he jumped up the stairs, two at a time. When he reached the top, she was just getting to his bedroom door and had one hand on the door knob.

She paused upon hearing his footsteps. She knew he had not had time to get the water.

She remained silent though, staring at the wooden door as she sensed his presence all of a sudden right behind her.

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard feeling his bare chest just lightly touch her back, and she took a sharp intake of breath as she felt his hands snake around her waist and rest on her tummy. He buried his face in her soft dark hair and let his chin rest upon her shoulder, his cheek nestled against her neck.

"I'm sorry." He whispered into her, letting out a laboured breath as the last syllable left his lips, and she was sure she heard a sob in his words. She shook her head, letting him know there was nothing to be sorry for, and placed one hand over his, squeezing gently.

He held her tight and closed his eyes, finally allowing himself to believe she was really there. It really was her he was holding….. and he could have stayed like that all night just breathing her in.

But using her free hand, she pushed the door open and without breaking from their hold, they slowly paced into the darkened room. A wave of relief flowed through her upon feeling the familiarity of his room…. the smells. The big, dark wooden bed. The soft, thick carpet…. The soft moonlight peeking through the broken blind he had still not fixed….. It was a familiarity she had not felt for months being stuck in hospitals and lonely hotel rooms. And then a gentle smile danced on her lips as she felt his warm lips press against her neck. His kisses were slow, moist and gentle, and between each one, his hot breath would give her skin a beautiful burning sensation.

"I…." He breathed. But before he could continue, her heard a gentle hush escape her lips and her hand reach back and caress the back of his neck. Now was not the time for words.

He let his hands trace over her hips and down to the tops of her thighs before working their way back up to the base of her shirt. His fingers gripped at the fabric and he paused….. and it took no more than a beat to pass for her to react, lifting her arms to assist him in removing the garment.

As the shirt fell to the floor, he placed his lips back on the ivory skin of her collar bone, but as his palms reconnected with the naked skin of her tummy, she tensed up, suddenly remembering her scars, and she cringed in disappointment as she felt his torso leave her back.

But he did not let her go. He let his hands rest on her hips and turned her around, their gaze meeting immediately.

"You ok?" He whispered.

She half smiled and nodded.

But staring at her face he could see she was still scared. She was still trying to cover it up. She was still trying to keep something from him….. She was still lying.

He couldn't look at her. He didn't want anything to mess this up. So he buried his face in her neck one again and kissed her softly, but instead of helping him to forget, it bought back more memories….. He suddenly couldn't get the image of her smiling at him and telling him she was 'good', before she walked out of the bull pen and out of their lives…. Out of his life.

There was a time. A short time. Just a matter of minutes that day that he thought he would never be able to forgive her for that. He never wanted to feel that way again;

"You walked away from me Emily." He mumbled, not breaking his lips from her skin.

"What?" She breathed, not sure of what she just heard.

"You walked away after telling me you were ok." He uttered between kisses.

She placed both hands on his chest and gently pushed, creating a small distance between them, but she didn't say anything, searching silently for an explanation.

"Please don't lie to me anymore Emily." He continued, brushing a piece of hair away from her cheek, "If you're not ok, just say you're not ok."

She frowned, "But you told me you understood why I did that…." She averted her gaze from him, "That I did it for Declan."

"You remember?" He asked placing a finger under her chin and drawing her face up so she looked at him, "You remember what I said to you that day?"

"Yes." She nodded, "Every word."

"Then I want you know I meant it. Every word." He stressed, "I do understand why you did it." He paused, "I just don't want you to do it again. You understand?" He said softly, staring hard into her eyes to make sure she heard him. To make sure she understood that there could be no more lies.

She nodded, realising at that moment they had a long way to go before they were mended. She was sure he would have not forgotten a single thing she had said or done during that period that hurt him. Many things she was sure she would not remember herself unless he reminded her. But she wanted to fix it…. every single last thing.

She looked down and threaded one finger into the waist band of his joggers, "I told you." She uttered, tugging gently and taking a step back, "I know I have to make it up to you…."

He shook his head, not wanting her feel that way, but she ignored his protest, "I know it will take a while, but I am going to make it up to you."

She sat down as she felt the bed against the backs of her thighs and pulled him fully towards her so he was stood in between her knees. He gently smiled before cupping her face in his hands and bending down, his lips meeting hers in a tender kiss.

The kiss became deeper and more wanton and she shifted her body back onto the soft mattress, laying down and taking him with her so he was hovering above.

He looked down at her and splayed his fingers across the pale, porcelain skin of her forehead, brushing her dark hair back. He traced the contours of her face, remembering the bruises that were there before. Remembering the blood and the cuts…. But it had all gone. She was perfect again.

"I'm glad you came here tonight." He whispered, his eyes boring into hers with seriousness.

"Me too." She smiled, snaking her hands around his naked waist and pulling his body downwards.

He flashed her that Derek Morgan smile she had not seen for months before tracing kisses along her collarbone and down into the dip between her breasts. With one hand he softly pushed a bra strap off her shoulder, the fabric falling off and exposing right breast. He nipped and suckled at the plump flesh as she caressed the back of his head with her fingertips, a sensation she knew drove him wild. The more she teased his skin, the more fervent his attention to her became.

She felt his fingers brush her left shoulder as he rid her of the other bra strap and move his lips across. But only a split second later, his eyes were looking straight at hers.

"What the…..?" Was all he could say. He glanced back down to the clover shaped marking and then back up to her and saw the scared expression in her eyes.

"Did he do that to you?" He asked almost desperately, with an anger to his tone, knowing it was not there before Ian Doyle showed up.

She nodded, pressing her lips together. She knew she had to get this out of the way.

"He branded me." She uttered, her voice tiny and weak, "He wanted me to be his forever."

The words broke as they fell from her lips.

He shook his head, "You will never be his." He growled.

And as she looked at him all she wanted was for him to tell her that she would never be Ian Doyle's because she was his. That she would always be his. But of course, Derek Morgan would never say that. He would never tell a woman she was his….

But that's exactly what he wanted to tell her…. That she was his…. if she wanted to be. She could be his forever and Ian Doyle, alive or dead, would never have a hold on her ever again.

And as they stared at each other, their gaze softened, floating back into their moment. She gently stroked his back and he ran his fingers through her hair before pecking her lips and then working his way downwards once again.

He hooked his arms under her, lifting her slightly, her back arching and exposing her neck fully to him. He kissed the dip at the bottom of her neck and quickly moved back to the four leaf clover. He began by gently nipping at the darkened skin, but soon kissed, licked and suckled it with determination….. And for a few moments, he wished Doyle was there to see it. To show him, he had taken her back.

With his hands underneath her, he unclasped her bra and discarded the lingerie on the floor. He gave a solitary kiss to the flat piece of flesh in between her breasts before trailing down to her stomach. A breath caught in her throat as he made it to the big scar, but he didn't flinch. Or hesitate. Or avoid it. He gave it the same attention he did to every other piece of her. May be more. And she knew this was part of the reason she had come here tonight.

She had looked in the mirror every day since she had been well enough to get out of bed, and hated what she saw. She felt ugly… this big red patch of wiry skin desperately gripping on to itself in an attempt to heal. And every day, as it did heal, and the skin changed to a dull shade of purple, she still hated it. Hated what it stood for. Hated what it reminded her of.

But he was going to take that away. Even if only for the time she was with him, she knew the hatred would go away.

And it did…..

She felt his hands work the zipper on her pants as his mouth worked the skin of her stomach. He gripped at the waistband of the fabric and pulled the pants off in one movement, taking her panties with them.

He shifted his body back up hers and let his body weight press against hers, examining her for any sign that she was in pain. But that did not come. Instead she smiled at him and it was the first time he believed she actually meant that smile since she had been back.

He smiled back and it soon widened as he felt her hand brush the front of his joggers, his hardness straining against the loose fabric. She pushed the material, along with his boxers, over his hips and down to his thighs, letting him manoeuvre the rest of the way himself with something that resembled a shimmy.

They were lay there now, just flesh on flesh, and their hands explored as they kissed, deeply and hungrily. The distant memories of one another's bodies soon became intimately familiar once again.

He began to rock inside of her, initially staring into her eyes, but as if it all became too much, his body collapsed onto hers and he wrapped his arms around her, thrusting deeper and harder. Desperately. As if he was banishing every bad memory from his mind with every stroke.

She kissed all over his neck until his breaths became laboured and erratic and she felt him shudder against her. She gripped his arms and pushed him up so he was balanced above her.

"Am I hurting you?" He panted, his chest heaving.

"No." She smiled and shook her head, "I'm fine."

He paused and stared at her inquisitively. It was as if it were the first time he'd ever seen her.

"God you're beautiful." He whispered, and she could see a tear well in one of his eyes, "I can't believe you're here."

She cupped his face in her hands and guided his face to hers, kissing his lips lightly, then placing a couple of inches between them, so she could look him dead in the eyes, "I am." She whispered back, "I'm right here."

Gripping the tops of his arms, she pushed him off her and on to his back, straddling his hips as he nestled into the soft mattress. Smiling at her, he took both of her hands in his and entwined their fingers and she lowered herself on to him slowly, watching his eyes close and his face relax the more he immersed in her. She began to move on him, the strength of their grip keeping her balance. She waited for him to open his eyes before arching her back slightly, opening up and exposing her whole body to him. She wanted to know she trusted him. She trusted him to see all of her. To have all of her

He released the grip of one hand and traced his palm from the base of her neck, down the centre of her body, intoxicated by the feel of her soft skin on his. Both of his hands eventually came to rest on her hips and he aided her back and forth motion that became quicker and quicker with every second that passed. His thumb massaged her as he felt her get closer and closer to the brink, and he saw the expression on her face as if she were desperate for release.

He could see she was exhausted, so he pulled her down and she wrapped her arms around his neck, he taking up the majority of the work. They held on to each other tightly as they rocked harder and faster until he heard a tiny cry escape her lips, but not one of sadness, one of desperation.

"It's ok baby. Let go." He whispered in her ear, "Let go."

And that's all it took. Not a few seconds later, he felt her walls clamp down on him, a cry of pleasure fall from her, and her rib cage breathe heavy against his.

As her breaths drew longer she pushed herself up on to her elbows to look at him and smiled, "Hey." She uttered, closing the gap and kissing him deeply.

She began to rock her hips once again, and he wrapped his arms around her waist moving in time with her. As she felt his breathing begin to judder, she broke the kiss to look at him. His eyes were shut tight and his face a picture of contentment, as if he were a million miles away, but she knew he was right there with her, and as he came inside of her, she stifled his cries with another kiss.

As their heavy breaths began to subside, she lay her head on his chest and closed her eyes listening to the beat of his heart. She had done this so many times in the past and had always taken it for granted, something that she regretted laying alone in a darkened hospital room with not a soul she cared about to talk to. Right now, this was the best sound in the world to her.

And as he lay there, stroking her back, feeling her soft breath brush his skin, he realised…. he had not taken her back… she had returned herself to him and he'd be damned if he let her be taken again….. He would keep his word…. He would never let her go.