Two days later

He found her already mostly packed, leaning over the bed, one hand on her upper chest, the other holding a tissue to her mouth as she coughed. It was a deep, wet cough that rattled around in her chest, and jolted her body.

"You sure you don't need another day here?" Morgan stepped into the room, and rested a hand gently on her back. They'd closed their case late yesterday, but decided to stick around and get some rest before heading back.

Prentiss shot him an annoyed look. She looked a bit better, no longer flushed with fever, and her eyes were focused. But, she still looked too pale, and by the way her body sagged, he could tell she was still weak. "I can sleep through the day just as easily in my own bed."

He held up his hands. "Alright, I was just checking...you sound like shit you know?"

"Yeah, the sound I can deal with, it's the pain that's killing me."

"In your chest?"

She nodded. "Feels like someone's sitting on me, until I cough, and then it feels like someone's stabbing me."

Morgan frowned. "Is that normal?"

She began coughing again, while simultaneously trying to nod. Morgan winced, and he must have showed some sign of guilt, because as soon as she stopped coughing, she looked him straight in the eyes. "You couldn't have known what the truck driver was going to do, Morgan. This isn't your fault."

"I pushed you to go with him," he argued. He couldn't help it, that's what he'd been thinking about the last three days.

"Damn it Morgan, you have nothing to feel guilty about. You are the only reason I'm not in Colombia being pimped out by a guy named Forero. Do you get that?" She started coughing then and rushed to grab a tissue to catch the phlegm.

He shifted around, but didn't comment. He knew that, but still, he felt like he should have found her sooner. Should have figured out what was going on quicker.

Emily wiped her mouth and looked at him. "Do you know what I was thinking about while I was in that basement?" She didn't give him a chance to respond. "That nobody would be going out there to get you, that you'd freeze to death, and there was nothing-" she was cut-off by another coughing fit, "nothing I could do to help you...I was so sure you were dead."

Morgan heard her voice crack, and knew he wasn't the only one shaken by the experience. Rather than continue debating the matter, especially when talking was making her cough more, he simply pulled her into a hug. Emily let her head fall against his shoulder, and he could tell she was still weak by how she let much of her weight relax against him. Being that close, he could hear the ugly wheeze from her chest as she breathed.

"Alright Agent Prentiss-oh, sorry to interrupt."

They immediately parted and turned to see a cheery nurse with a stack of papers, a large envelope, and a wheel chair with a tissue box on it.

"Oh, I don't think so," Emily said.

The nurse looked confused, but then shook it off and pressed on. "I have your discharge papers here, as well as your medication. You need to take the antibiotic twice a day, preferably with a meal, and as close to the same time each day as possible. You must finish them, even after you start to feel better. The expectorant can be taken up to three times a day. Any questions?"

"Nope." Emily accepted the papers, and two orange prescription bottles, stowing them in her bag.

"If you start to get a fever again, make sure you take some ibuprofen or acetaminophen, but it should stay down with the antibiotics. Make sure you get plenty of rest and fluids, keep a bottle of water around if that makes it easier for you. Also, you should see your regular doctor in a few days, and they'll probably schedule you for an x-ray in a few weeks."

"Weeks?" Emily gaped.

Morgan almost laughed at the horrified expression on her face.

"Yes, pneumonia hangs around, so you need to take care of yourself," the nurse said, face as serious and severe as Hotch's.

Emily groaned, so Morgan responded for her. He smiled charmingly at the nurse. "Don't worry, I'll make sure she takes it easy for a while, and so will our boss."

The nurse smiled again. "Good. I grabbed a box of tissues, since you said you were heading right to a plane, and here's your x-rays, you should bring them to your doctor." Morgan took the large envelope before Emily could, and motioned her into the wheelchair.

"I don't need that." She was clearly exhausted, just from the last fifteen minutes, but too stubborn let it show.

"Yes, you do. Sit."

Emily glared at him, but still fell tiredly into the wheelchair. Morgan handed her the tissues, and tucked the envelope of x-rays in beside her. She went to motion for her bag, but he was already swinging it over his shoulder.

"I've got her from here, thanks," he told the nurse, who moved and let them through.

It didn't take long to get out to the SUV, and get settled in, and as they were pulling out of the hospital, he was struck by a sense of deja vu. This whole fiasco had started with the two of them driving together, just a simple drive to meet a victim. Now, they were going to meet the team at the airfield, but still, he felt a little anxious. He'd be happy when they got the hell out of this state, when they were in the air on the way home.

They'd already located 21 of the abducted women in four different cities, and the American consulates and local law enforcement had gotten them out safely and were working on getting them back to the states. At least 18 of them. Three were dead. All 21 families were being notified, and HTTF was simultaneously working on finding the other 19 women, assisting the prosecutors in the other countries in building cases against the pimps, and building a case against the residents of Culver.

Most of the shopkeepers in town knew what was going on, and many of the residents did as well. 29 people had been arrested on charges ranging from kidnapping and unlawful imprisonment to conspiracy to commit kidnapping. The BAU had promised their support and assistance as the HTTF needed it. He and Prentiss would both be testifying at the trials, and Garcia was still involved in tracking down the remaining 18 women.

Morgan noticed her expression had gone dark. "Prentiss? What are you thinking about?"

"Those women…they're coming home now, but a year, two, three, five years of…" Her hoarse, low speech trailed off, and she shifted her head, tongue running over her lip. "Can they ever be okay again? Is it possible?"

He sighed. "Honestly, I don't know. I hope so. At least they won't have to suffer anymore."

Emily nodded and coughed, wincing against the ache. "I just can't stop thinking, they were shipped off on some creep's private plane," she stopped to cough again, "to a foreign country where men raped them again and again and ignored their screams and tears."

"Don't do that, princess. Don't go there, don't let that into your head and empathize so much," he warned.

"How can I not? That was almost me, I just got lucky that I travel with Superman." Then she dissolved into such a violent fit of coughing that Morgan nearly pulled the car over to make sure she was okay.

"I don't think talking is doing much for you, why don't we reserve this conversation for a while?"

She nodded, still trying to clear the phlegm from her throat.

"And for the record…hardly. If I was Superman, I'd have rescued you sooner."

Emily gave him a skeptical look, and croaked out, "You're close enough."

His response was a bitter laugh through his nose. No matter what she said, he'd be beating himself up for a while yet. He just about forced her into that truck, and she was literally tortured because of it. Now, she was so weak she should probably still be in the hospital, and if they'd been closer to home, she probably would be.

Morgan watched her rest her head back against the seat, eyes closed, a sick wheeze cycling in and out of her chest.

"Hey Prentiss." She turned to him. "When the nightmares start, I'll be on the other end of the phone line, you just have to dial."

The corners of her mouth turned up in a tired smile. "Thanks, and that goes both ways."

He squeezed her hand, but released it quickly, so she could brace her chest as she coughed. They pulled into the airport as she was settling again, and Morgan remembered something he was supposed to tell her. "Oh, Garcia said she made you some chicken soup."

Emily's eyes instantly brightened. "Homemade food?"

He chuckled. "Yep, and I've had her soup, it's good."

She looked instantly contented, and he was thankful for that. Morgan put the car into park, and began grabbing bags, before giving her a hand out. He gave the keys to a young agent waiting by the doors, and they headed inside. The team was waiting in the section for private aircraft departures, looking rather bored, but the site of them was never such a relief.

It was over, this whole miserable mess was over, finally. "Come on," he nudged Emily, "you look like you're about to fall down."

She glared at him, but there was no malice behind it.