They were the last to arrive, Emily and Dave. She'd found him in the parking lot, surprised that he'd waited for her. He had effortlessly spouted something about it being the only way to ensure that he would get to sit next to the most beautiful woman in the bar. She easily shed her winter coat as she walked through the door, anticipating the warm atmosphere of the place she had grown quite accustomed to during her tenure with the bureau. Dave led the way as they slid through the multitude of patrons.

She could see him now, and her heart sank. He had his arm draped around the back of the chair to his right. That's not what had caused her turmoil though; it was the occupant of the chair. A woman, who looked to be in her thirties, sporting a flirtatious smile as she whispered into Derek's ear. Emily was stopped dead in her tracks, but there wasn't time for anyone else to notice. Dave had covertly taken hold of her wrist, as if he had planned on her inadvertent reluctance.

"She doesn't bite," he encouraged in a soft tone.

It was then that she noticed another newcomer, a woman sitting at the opposite end of the table from the first mystery woman. This one was markedly older, and had 'cop' written all over her. That had to be Alex Blake. Emily found her eyes wandering back down to the first woman as she and Dave approached the table. She was transfixed. That is, until a bright swirl of colors demanded her attention.

"Emily Prentiss!" Penelope squealed in delight. "You get that delicious, little booty over here!" She pointed down to the chair at her right, like a mother placing her unruly child at her side. It wasn't Emily's first option, to be seated directly across from what was apparently the happy couple, but the only other choice was adjacent. It didn't make much of a difference either way, there'd be no avoiding Derek Morgan.

She was wrapped in her old friend's arms before she even had the chance to set her coat down. "I always forget about this," she breathed out the words because there wasn't any oxygen left in her lungs. Penelope released her enough to get a good look at Emily's face, clearly confused by the comment. "That when you hug someone, you suddenly turn into the Incredible Hulk." The comparison drew laughter from her companions, and even from Blake. The other woman hesitated though, like she wasn't sure if it was a good-hearted joke or just an insult. A delicate smile graced her lips instead.

Emily couldn't sit down fast enough. The sooner she sat down, the sooner she'd have access to her pre-ordered drink. Penelope was a godsend this evening, already.

"You're welcome," Derek chuckled as she downed the neat, double of Jameson. Her eyes bulged, and she was sure that she looked like a cartoon character.

"You?" she tilted the now empty glass in his direction, and he bowed his head. "Oh, I just assumed it was Penelope wanting to get me drunk tonight." Emily grimaced slightly at the unintentional flirtation. Then cast apologetic and shameful eyes at the woman sat next to Derek, but she couldn't hold the woman's stare. Her eyes quickly flicked back to the man himself.

He was waving a dismissive hand at her. "You know your first drink is always on me, Princess." He winked.

It was her turn to chuckle. "Oh yeah?" she asked rhetorically. "Remind me to send you a bill sometime, alcohol is much more expensive in the U.K." That earned her one of his trademark, broad grins. "Thank you," she added sincerely.

"I've got the rest of the night," Dave said from her right. She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. "Non-negotiable." She pursed her lips; pride forcing her to be upset by it, but ultimately accepting the gesture of kindness. She watched him as he flagged down a waitress.

"It's good to see you, Emily." Hotch had a rare smirk adorning his face, and it easily drew her attention to him.

"You too, sir," she responded comfortably. A look of genuine confusion came over him. "What?"

He checked the other faces around the table before he answered, as if to make sure he was correct. "I'm fairly certain that you outrank me now, Commissioner." He stressed the final word, and she felt herself blush.

"Right," she said almost nervously. "You'll always be my boss, Hotch."

"Ha!" he exclaimed. "I was never your boss." She was taken aback, and it must have shown. "You're, by far, one of the most stubborn people I've ever had the pleasure of calling a friend. At the very least, you were an equal from day one."

That's not how she had seen it all those years ago, but his claim made her deeply happy now. She couldn't even form the proper words to let him know, but the waitress had impeccable timing. Emily raised the newly arrived glass in an appreciative, silent toast to her boss.

She set her drink down, and stood to reach over the table. She offered her hand to the woman at Hotch's right side. "You must be Blake?"

"Hmm? Yes!" The woman put her own drink aside. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard quite a bit about you."

"Well, hopefully some of it was good," Emily joked.

"Oh, shut up!" The whole table turned to J.J. "Oh, wow." She put her own glass down, and slid it toward the middle of the table. "I only meant to say that of course it was good stuff." She sounded a bit dejected now. "Sorry."

Emily turned to Garcia, and they sniggered. "It's fine," she soothed J.J. "I'm glad to see that you've upped your alcohol tolerance since I've been gone."

"Ha, ha, ha," the blonde mumbled as she wagged her head from side to side. She'd been the subject of ridicule on many a girl's nights for that very reason. Emily felt a pang of guilt for picking at the younger woman. Before she'd had Henry, J.J. could easily drink her under the table. "Don't mind me," J.J. said earnestly. She reached for the peanuts at the center of the table, and then pulled a glass of water toward herself.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Spencer had that excited tone to his voice that she'd missed oh-so much. Dave leaned back in his seat so that she could see the younger man. He was digging through his satchel now, completely oblivious to the eyes on him. He pulled out a small, rectangular box that was delicately wrapped.

He handed it to her, and she looked at him quizzically. "You didn't have to get me anything."

"I know," he shook his head in agreement. "But I wanted to."

She couldn't help but feel like a proud mother as she accepted the gift. She slowly pulled the bow apart, letting it fall to her lap. She slid her finger into the seam of the paper, and then effortlessly ripped it away. She took one more glance at the bestower before opening the jewelry box. It was beautiful. A white gold that shined, even in the dimly lit bar. It was a mess of circles, tenderly woven together. "Do you like it?" he asked hopefully.

It was one of the most gorgeous things she'd ever seen. Her voice came out breathily. "I love it," was all she could manage at first. The whole scene must have been surreal to the others. "Gallifreyan?" she asked, curiously. Spencer gave her a toothy grin, and an equally adorable nod. "What does it say?" She knew that he would have gone that extra mile, that it wouldn't just be for show. He gave her a slightly disappointed expression. They'd spent a long flight home deciphering the fictional language a few years prior. "I'm a little rusty," she admitted.

"Uh." He looked around at the others, embarrassment suddenly striking his features. He loosened his tie before returning his gaze to hers. "In sacramento autem poenitentiae." He spoke hastily and unsurely, but his Latin brought a smile to her face anyway.

"The Sacrament of Penance," she repeated more so to herself than to anyone else. She leaned over Dave and pulled Spencer into a hug, not caring about almost having spilled the middleman's beverage. "Thank you," she whispered into his ear.

"Any chance you all are gonna share?" Derek asked. There was a silence when Emily and Reid didn't break from their embrace.

"I'm not sure what Gallifreyan is," Blake said, and the confusion was palpable. Emily felt Reid's body shaking with laughter.

"I thought you were a linguist?" Emily finally broke away, with a beaming smile in place. Blake just stared at her, mouth agape.

"It's the language of the Time Lords," Reid clarified.

"Ooh! Oh, I knew that!" Penelope hollered. "Doctor Who," she continued. "That British television show that Spence and I are always trying to get you all to watch."

Her explanation was met with a round of 'Oh's' and 'Right's'.

"So what does it say?" Derek was clearly eager to know.

"The Sacrament of Penance," Dave answered him. That didn't really seem to satisfy anyone's confusion. "It's a catholic thing." Dave shrugged, and the topic seemed to die away immediately. Emily made a note to learn how he did that.

"It's beautifully crafted." Emily looked up to the woman across from her when she heard the comment.

Her jaw tensed slightly. "I'm sorry, how rude of me." She carefully sat Spencer's gift on the table, and then reached out her hand for a second time. "Emily, you are?"

"Savannah. Unfortunately, I haven't heard very much about you." Derek cleared his throat, and Emily arched a brow in his direction. He was a deer in headlights. She'd like to think that she at least rated a mention here or there, but she understood his position.

"Oh," Emily laughed, hoping that the others wouldn't recognize her mother's influence in the small noise. "Clearly Derek's been busy. I must say," she turned back to him, "I didn't expect you to settle down any time soon."

"Neither did I," he answered honestly.

"So you guys were close, yeah?" Savannah asked.

"We were partners." Emily answered, but the other woman looked a little baffled.

"I thought you guys were a team?" she asked Derek.

He leaned forward, his mouth moving before he had words to go along with it. "Yeah, but we pair up to do things. We have to split up sometimes when we're in the field, so we can cover all the bases."

"Emily and Derek were together more often than not, so they kind of are like partners," Garcia clarified. Emily wondered if Penelope had even realized that she'd changed tenses halfway through the sentence.

"Well then, I guess I owe you a 'thank you' for keeping him alive." Emily sensed a different kind of tensing. Savannah was posturing, but it was polite.

"I'm pretty sure Derek and I are even." She locked eyes with him for the first time in almost a year. As good as he was at concealing his emotions, his eyes had always been open to her. They were a chaotic swirl now, and she couldn't fathom how he was containing it all.

The other end of the table picked up a conversation as they stared at one another. "I saw Anderson at the bar when we came in," she nodded behind herself, and then slid out of her chair.

She made her way to the bar through the crowded room, keenly aware that she hadn't actually seen the other agent. She leaned heavily on the smooth wood, contemplating the last twenty minutes or so.

"Haven't seen you here before." She arched a brow at the overused and outdated line, but turned to the man who had said it anyway. He was good looking. Chiseled, she thought, but in a rugged way.

"Then you haven't been coming here for very long." He smiled as he dropped his gaze to the floor, but he didn't seem embarrassed in the least.

"I'm, in town for a conference," he admitted.

"So, you're acting like a regular to pick up chicks?" she questioned him suspiciously.

"No, just you." He was being cocky, but somehow managing to pull it off in a way that was all too endearing. It wasn't something that happened often, but Emily was at a complete loss for words. "Would you like to dance?" he offered.

"I don't think so." She shook her head. "I'm here with good friends that I haven't seen in awhile."

"One dance isn't going to take up your whole night, princess." She had to do a double take at the use of her nickname, glancing back at the table to see the others watching her intently. The guy was attractive, definitely comparable to Morgan. He had tanned skin, and a well-crafted beard. She had always had a weak spot for facial hair.

She chuckled at her internal dialogue before turning back to the bar. "What the hell," she stated simply, downing the last of her drink in one go. "Let's dance."

She let the handsome stranger lead her by the hand to the dance floor. She hadn't done this in so long. The last time she was this carefree had been in her twenties.

"You don't do this often," he said, and she was drawing a blank for a second time. Her open-mouthed expression must have been flattering. "It's okay," he reassured as they fell into step with the music. "My name's Mark."

"Emily," she nodded bashfully. "Is it that obvious that I'm out of practice?"

"No," Mark laughed through his response. "I just have a keen eye."

"Uh-huh," she found herself challenging him easily. "I bet you do."

As the song ended and the next one began, it was Mark who had stopped moving. "I don't want to keep you." He winked.

"I should probably get back over there before they strain their eyes," she joked. But she didn't want to go back. This was new, and easy. There was so much to wade through back at her table.

He must have sensed her hesitation. "I'll be at the pool table if you want me." It was casual, and he didn't say anything directly, but he didn't need to.

"Wow!" Garcia teased before Emily even made it back to the table. They hadn't attempted to conceal their gawking in the least. She simply smiled dismissively as she slid back into her seat. "Who's our mystery man?" Garcia began the interrogation.

Emily stared down shyly, suddenly finding her napkin very interesting. "Mark," she answered cautiously. She wasn't totally comfortable with the occupants of the table now that they had ventured onto this topic. Garcia must have sensed it because she uncharacteristically backed off the subject.

"Alright guys, we'll be back," Derek proclaimed as he got up with Savannah in tow and headed toward the dance floor. Emily let her eyes follow him only briefly.

As she swept them back over the table, she stopped on Penelope's glowing face. She turned her back to Dave and the others for what she knew was the full blown investigation Garcia was about to launch. "So?" the tech guru smiled mischievously. "How exactly is my lovely Londoner doing in the dude department?"

"Pen, you know I've never been one to indulge in that area of my life." Emily's answer was straightforward, but she hated how boring and lonely it made her sound. She honestly just hadn't been interested in anyone in a long time.

"Oh, Em," the younger woman was disappointed. "Did you get Hunky Mark's number?" she changed the subject, clearly hoping to rectify what she felt had been a mistake on Emily's part.

In a hushed and embarrassed tone, she offered new evidence to Garcia. "I haven't really had a relationship since Ian."

Penelope's face saddened. "I know how hard that must have been for you, opening up to him like that. You know, when you knew he was a bad guy."

"Yeah," she paused. This was a conversation she had attempted before, but with her partner. "It wasn't easy. He left a lot of scars." She was having trouble keeping her feelings in check. "Emotional and physical."

Garcia pursed her lips to the side and quickly glanced to the dance floor. "And Derek found you all the more attractive for them?" she asked knowingly.

Emily was getting used to not having words tonight. She spoke barely above a whisper now, albeit a frantic one. "Maybe, we never really talked about it." She admitted. "Honestly, I did my best to avoid that conversation."

"How long have you and Derek been dancing around each other, sugar plum?"

"Since I joined the team, really. Of course I was attracted to him," she explained. If anyone could appreciate the aesthetics of Derek Morgan, it was Penelope. "Then I really got to know him. How kind he is." She looked away. "And, I guess he got to know me as well."

"So, have you guys?" Garcia let the question hang in the air.

Emily's thoughts drifted to the night that they'd cleared his name in Chicago, but she wouldn't divulge those memories to anyone. Derek had needed her that night. She still hated the fact that she had left while he slept. "No." A sudden memory forced her eyes upward, and she cocked her head to the side thoughtfully. "Well. There was that case in Vegas, but we were both pretty drunk."

"Excuse me!" Emily wasn't sure if the outburst was a question, but it was definitely loud.

"Nothing like that!" she quickly explained, and then dropped her volume again. "It was just a kiss." Penelope's eyes looked like that of a kitten staring at a freshly lit Christmas tree. "A good one," she confirmed her friend's unasked question with a nod. "That's all it was though, and I was the one to put a stop to it."

"Hmm," Penelope had clearly figured something out.

"What is it?" Emily was genuinely curious.

"It's just," Penelope started. "I've known Derek for a really long time," she began again.

"I know, I know." Emily interrupted her because she didn't need to hear it. "He's a player, and I am clearly not his type," she finished with a nod to the much younger woman he was dating.

"No," Penelope hesitated briefly. "I was just going to say, that man doesn't kiss anyone unless he wants to. Drunk or not."

Emily squinted slightly, trying to figure out exactly what Garcia had meant. Her thought process was broken when the subject of their conversation returned.

She could just barely hear Savannah over the crowd and the music. "No, you should tell her. He seemed like a nice guy."

Emily looked expectantly to Derek. She could see his jaw muscles flex. "The guy from the bar," he explained. "He asked if you were going to be here much longer." Derek relayed the information, but he hadn't seemed happy about it.