Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds.

Summary: Garcia visits Morgan in the hospital. Morgan/Garcia

A/N: I was listening to the song 1,2,3,4 by Plain White T's and this idea came to me. I was originally going to have it a Hotch/Prentiss or Prentiss/Morgan, but neither of those pairings seemed to fit. I would recommend listening to the song if you haven't heard it yet. You don't have to, but I think it'd make the story more worthwhile. I also have a very few lines from Titanic in here. I just watched it. *sigh* I love that movie, so i couldn't help but add a few lines. It seemed to fit.

Enjoy… or I hope.

Letting Go

"It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all," ~ Alfred Lord Tennyson

"How bad?

"It's bad."

"Is he okay?"

"He…just…come to the hospital, Garcia. He's asking for you."

--

The hospital hallway is long and dark. Rossi and Hotch are waiting outside the door along with Prentiss, Reid and JJ. They're all crying, even Hotch who hides his emotions on the toughest of cases. His tears confirm her worst fears. Rossi gives her the slightest of nods and she desperately tries to blink back tears before entering the small room.

It's the things you can't see coming that are strong enough to kill you. He is weak and still on the hospital bed, she fears that she's too late, but the slightest stir tells her otherwise. A tube feeds down his throat, a machine breathes for him. It wasn't suppose to end like this. Not like this.

"Hey, Baby-girl."

His voice is as light as a feather and though she doesn't recognize it, she puts on a fake smile for his sake. She has promised herself she wouldn't cry, but seeing him here now has made the situation real. On some primal level she had convinced herself that Hotch had exaggerated over the phone, but he hadn't. If anything, he had neglected to tell her the true expense of his injuries.

The left side of his face is burned, a lava flow of skin that had been stretched and sewed to cover the damaged skin. As she moves closer, she realizes it's not the only place he is burnt. Everywhere. His entire body is scarred, red, and blistered. He's only wearing a pair of shorts; anything else would be too painful for him to wear. The doctor's were right. There is nothing they can do, but ease the pain.

An explosion, Hotch had told her. He saved a life. A child. A little girl no more than four years old. He's a hero. But hadn't she already known this? He shouldn't have gone in; shouldn't have risked his life for the sake of another.

"Hey." She sits in the chair next to his bed.

"Bailey," he rasps out, his eyes shut tight. It's the name of the little girl, she realizes. The one he saved. She bites her lip, while trying not to cry and wishing he hadn't gone in to save her. "You should meet her. She reminds me of you."

"Yeah?" she chokes out.

He opens his eyes, then. They're dark and hallow with no traces of life. He has the eyes of a blind man and she knows this is just one of the many injuries impossible to cure. "Her parents died. She has no one." If she opens her mouth, she'll cry, so she doesn't say anything. "Maybe you could look after her for awhile…"

But she doesn't want a little girl. She wants him. "I'd like to meet her," she says only to make him happy.

His eyes have drifted shut again and she wonders if he fell asleep, but then he grunts in pain. "Garcia…"

She reaches for his hand and grips it tight. "I'm right here."

"I want…I want you to… look after Clooney for me." He's in pain. She can hear it in his voice with every word he speaks, but he still manages to force them out through gritted teeth. "Could you do that, for me?"

"Don't you do that," she scowls him. "Don't say your good-byes."

He ignores her. "Listen, baby-girl. You're gonna have to go on."

"No."

"You're gonna get out of here," he presses softly. "You're gonna go on and make lots of babies, and you're gonna watch them grow. You're gonna die an old…an old lady warm in your bed. Not like this, do you…you understand me?"

She shakes her head vigorously, no longer holding back tears. "Not without you."

"Getting a job at the BAU was the best thing that ever happened to me." He winces in pain and shuts his eyes tight. She can see him struggling to get out the words, struggling to breathe, which makes it all the harder not to break down. "It brought me to you," he tells hers with such honesty, she loses it right then and there. Her cries shake her entire body and he can do nothing to stop it.

"..Derek," she sobs.

"I'm thankful for that, Pen. I'm thankful. I wouldn't change it for the world," he rasps out, and she has to strain her neck to hear. "Promise me you'll stay at the BAU."

"You know I can't do –"

"Promise me," he presses, louder this time despite the fact that he can hardly talk. "Promise me, that you won't give up, no matter what happens, no matter how hopeless. Promise me now."

"The team is going to fall apart anyway," she argues

He grits his teeth in pain. It's harder for him now, breathing sharply with every move he makes. However, he still continues, desperately trying to get his point across. "The team needs you, baby-girl. They can mange losing one. Not two. Two and everyone leaves. So promise me and never let go of that promise."

She squeezes her eyes shut as she leans down to touch her forehead against his. "I promise," she chokes out.

"Good," he murmurs. "Don't ever let go of it."

"I won't. I promise"

He begins to lift his hand, and even that appears to be a struggle for him. At first, she assumes he wants a glass of water, but she quickly realizes that he is pointing to a necklace lying on the table behind him. "See… see that?"

She takes it in her hands. It's military dog tags. "Yeah?"

"My father gave…gave them to…me." He pauses to compose himself. "I want you to have it."

The sob that suddenly takes a hold of her body does not surprise him, so he lets her bury her head into his side. It hurts like hell, but he doesn't care. He wants to hold her one last time.

"Why?"

"It looks better on you than me," he jokes, which only makes her cry harder. "Hey. Shh. It's going to be okay."

Silence spreads over them, and she actively listens to the weak beep of his monitor. She had learned at a very early age that absolute quiet is only a myth. There is always something there, somewhere, struggling to make its presence known. Silence did and always would have a sound.

"Sing to me?" he asks her quietly, breaking the silence. He doesn't want to go to sleep. He's not ready to leave quite yet.

She is taken aback by the question. "What?"

"Sing. Please?"

She stutters, feeling like a complete loser. His last dying wish was for her to sing to him and she didn't even know where to begin.

"I'll start."

"Okay," she tells him gratefully.

"There's only one way. To say. These three words, for…" he tries to sing, 1234, by Plain White T's. It's their song. It's always playing on the radio when they're in the car together, so it had automatically become theirs. She smiles at him through her tears, but his voice shakes and he has to stop.

"Give me more loving then I've ever had," she continues for him in a higher key. She pauses as she squeezes her eyes shut and draws in a sharp breath. "Make me feel better when I'm feeling sad. Tell me that I'm special even when I know I'm not."

"Make me feel good when I hurt so bad," Morgan joins in, off pitch. "Barely getting mad. I'm so glad I found you."

"You make it easy. It's as easy as 1-2-1-2-3-4," They sing together, with the occasional pause for him to catch his breath.

She continues when he can't go on. "There's only one thing. To Do. Three words. For you…" she trails off, choking on a sob.

He grips her hand and finishes for her, "I love you, Baby-girl."

She kisses his cheek and chokes back another sob. "I, lo-love you, too," she tells him, just barely bringing the words to life.

A faint smile graces his lips, and as if that was all he needed to hear, he slowly drifts off to sleep. "Stay."

"Always."She kept that promise. And though she didn't know it yet, she would keep her other promises too.

It was hours later, when the night had finally reached its darkest abyss, his monitor ever so slowly began to fade out. She rubs his skin in small circles, as if this might make it easier. When the monitors flatline, she waits to see some change in him. And then she feels it, as his heart stops beating beneath her palm – that tiny loss of rhythm, that hollow calm, that utter loss.

He died that night. At 12:34am. It wasn't until much later, when she was lying in bed did she realize that it was their song. 1,2,3,4. Their song. Ever so softly and through broken cries, she begins to sing. "There's only one way. To say. Those three words. That's what I'll do…" She pauses to wipe away the tears that would not stop falling. "I love you," she whispers into the night, and still clutching his necklace, she holds it close to her heart, where he would always stay.