A/N: I really wasn't intending to start a new multi-chapter fic, but this idea came to mind and I just had to start writing. It's the first idea I've had in a while that I'm really excited about, so please let me know what you think. I hope you like it.

This is set some time after season 7, but imagining Emily didn't leave.

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or the characters.

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The rain battered the windows of the apartment, sounding at times like bursts of gunfire, as it was forced against the glass by the fierce wind. Unsecured gates and trashcans clattered and banged, joining the creaking trees in filling the night with an unearthly percussion. And Emily Prentiss pulled the throw tighter around her shoulders, burrowing further into the warmth of being inside, and feeling grateful to whichever bringer of luck had caused the coin to fall as it had.

Forty-five minutes earlier:

"You did not save my ass!" Emily insisted as she and Derek stepped into their apartment after returning from a case. "I had him – your macho ego just felt the need to play the superhero and dive in to take him down!"

"You're welcome, Princess," Morgan teased, closing the door and immediately pressing a deep kiss to his girlfriend's lips. "I've been wanting to do that all week," he grinned as he pulled away to draw breath. That was the downside of dating a co-worker – even when they'd dealt with all the bureaucracy which surrounded making their relationship public, they still felt the need to overcompensate when it came to remaining professional in the workplace.

"I seem to think we managed a few kisses while we were away," Emily responded, rolling her eyes and laughing. She thought of one particular occasion when Derek had pulled her into a stairwell between completing their profile and briefing the local police. Despite the difficulties their job posed to their relationship he always seemed to successfully steal moments here and there.

"Maybe I'm thinking of more than a kiss," he grinned, pulling her close and brushing his lips over her neck.

"Maybe I haven't eaten in twelve hours and want dinner first," she responded, twisting out of his arms and smirking as he remained alone by the door, looking momentarily put out.

He recovered quickly and layered on the Morgan charm.

"Allow me," he insisted, heading straight towards the kitchen. "A real man can take care of his woman in more than one way," he grinned.

Emily shook her head; this side of Derek was exactly why it had taken them so long to get together. At least he only used it to be funny or to wind her up. She followed him into the kitchen and perched on the counter as he searched the fridge and cupboards for ingredients.

"How does a can of tuna, served on a bed of stale crackers, with a sprinkling of slightly furry cheese sound?" he asked teasingly after he finished assessing their food situation.

Emily screwed up her face. Had it really been that long since they went grocery shopping?

"How about Chinese?" she suggested.

"That place takes ages to deliver," he replied, fully anticipating what she would say next.

"It doesn't take as long if someone picks it up."

"Em, it's raining!" he whined.

"I didn't say you had to get it," she replied, though really that had been what she was hinting at. "Rock, paper scissors?"

"No!" he exclaimed. "I heard that conversation you were having with Reid about probability and predictability."

She laughed at his insistent expression.

"How about tossing a coin then?" she suggested. "There is no way I could use one of Reid's tricks to fix that."

"Okay," he agreed, pulling a quarter from his pocket.

"Heads!" she shouted, as he flipped the coin in the air.

"Damn," he muttered as he caught the coin and drew his hand away, and Emily grinned at her victory.

"If you go then we can eat it in bed," she promised, biting her lip seductively. "Naked," she mouthed, in case he wasn't yet convinced.

"Fine, but we're not getting that weird duck thing," he replied, pulling his jacket back on and heading into the hall.

Emily smiled to herself, knowing that he would inevitably get "that weird duck thing" and pick up a bottle of her favourite wine. And that, in turn, she would show him just how grateful she was.

Present time:

The buzzer rang, drawing Emily out of her blanket cocoon, muttering about Derek and his inability to remember his keys. She answered the intercom, preparing to jokingly threaten not to let him in. But the only response which came from the outside was the whine and screech of the wind as it blew against the doorway. Feeling a little guilty that she had convinced Derek to go out in such awful weather, she pressed the button to release the door.

After a wait of around five minutes, there was a knock at the apartment door. Suddenly filled with anticipation for spending a stormy night shut away in the apartment with her boyfriend, Emily rushed towards the front door with an excited glow surrounding her face. However, her smile fell as she opened it and took in the figure that stood before her.

In the dimly lit corridor stood a weather-beaten and shivering young woman. As she leaned forward and grabbed onto the door frame, Emily became aware of the swollen abdomen, which her multiple layers of tattered clothing failed to disguise. The woman – or rather the girl – let out a strangled cry as a contraction coursed through her body. Instinctively, Emily stepped forward, and took hold of her arm, pulling her into the warmth.

"Help me," the girl gasped, collapsing to the ground, despite Emily's assistance.

"I'll call an ambulance," Emily thought aloud, grabbing her cellphone and dialling 911.

"There isn't time," the girl muttered through gritted teeth. She screamed as the operator answered Emily's call.

"I need an ambulance," Emily quickly instructed. "A woman just showed up at my apartment – she's in labour."

Another scream carried throughout the building and Emily struggled with her urge to comfort the girl and the need to get an ambulance as quickly as possible. She hurriedly gave her address to the operator and then turned to the distressed stranger.

"I need to push," her weak voice breathed.

"No, you have to wait," Emily replied, panic evident in her voice. "The ambulance is on its way."

"I can't!" the girl sobbed.

The next ten minutes passed in a blur. Emily's cell was on speaker. An unknown voice guided her through the steps of how to deliver a baby, interspersed with the assurance that the paramedics were on their way. The girl's breathing became more erratic. Emily felt the weight of the baby's head, and then its body, slide into her waiting hands. And there was so much blood; more than could be normal.

"You did it," Emily reassured the girl, as she blindly followed the disembodied voice's instructions on how to cut the cord. "Did you hear me? You've got a daughter."

The stranger remained quiet; she was fading fast.

"Where's the ambulance?" Emily shouted to no one in particular. "Come on, say something!" Emily begged. "Stay with me." She couldn't pinpoint the identity of the emotion she was directing towards this person who had stumbled into her life only minutes before, but she found herself praying to someone she had long since stopped believing in.

"Valhalla," the girl mumbled, over the sound of the elements from outside. Her eyelids fluttered as she fought against her racing heart and the blood which continued to flow from her body.

"What did you say?" Emily breathed, feeling a chill spread through her body. With a frighteningly strong grip she grabbed hold of the dying girl's arm and shook her, willing her to open her eyes and explain herself. "What did you say?"

There was no response.

As the baby resting in the crook of her arm let out her first cry, Emily pressed two fingers against the young mother's neck. No pulse could be found. A life had begun and another had ended. And in the middle of it all, one word seemed to echo around the apartment, and roar louder than the howling wind outside.

Valhalla.