'Okay so I wrote this after the Season 6 premiere-I know that was forever ago-because I felt like the writers should have
addressed all the Morgan/Flynn stuff more since he was so greatly affected by the guy and what he did.
It was my very first DEmily fic I'd ever actually written :) Had many ideas before but never wrote anything until this.
Then episode 2, "JJ" happened & I was seriously pissed off by how awesome they made her in the premiere & then just got rid of her the very next episode so I decided to fix their mistake :) lol & this became a twoshot :)
So I hope you enjoy reading this-its all DEmily this chapter ;) Please review after? So I know if you want me to post the second part.'

Chapter One

Derek Morgan was an honourable man, or at least he tried to be . He prided himself in being the best—doing his best—he wanted to help people, that's why he became a cop in the first place. To follow in his father's footsteps and help those who needed it.

Derek Morgan wanted to put his past behind him, wanted to make sure he never became what he was afraid of turning into, what he'd been afraid of as a young boy, and he believed by joining the police force, and later the FBI, he could achieve that. Now he caught people like that—monsters—on a weekly basis. He protected the innocent, the ones who couldn't protect themselves from the evils in this world...people like Ellie and Kristen Spicer.

Morgan had failed them, he knew that. Kristen and Ellie had relied on him to save them and he hadn't. Now Kristen was dead, due to injuries sustained during that bastard's brutal attack and Ellie was traumatised for life: kidnapped by a deranged serial killer who shot her father dead right in front of her, more than likely overheard the brutal beating and rape of her aunt and if that wasn't damaging enough, she had then been forced into becoming Flynn's accomplice.

No, there was no way in hell that little girl would ever be the same again and in Morgan's eyes... that was on him.

Thoughts of Detective Matt Spicer himself, invaded the profiler's mind as he retrieved yet another beer from his refrigerator, slamming the door closed in anger: the most prominent emotion within the myriad he was experiencing. Taking a long swig from the bottle, Morgan dropped heavily back down onto his couch.

One promise. He had made one promise to a truly honourable man who had dedicated his life to keeping his city and the people in it safe and protected. Morgan had made one promise to a condemned man and he hadn't followed through and Derek Morgan liked to keep his promises. He tried his damndest to make sure nothing got in the way of doing so, and when it had mattered most, when a little girl's life had depended on it, Derek Morgan had broken said promise...and it almost cost that girl her life.

'Thank god for JJ' Morgan thought to himself with a sigh of relief. If it wasn't for her, they may not have gotten through to Flynn or gotten Ellie back alive . JJ had stepped up her game like never before. She saved the day and Morgan was incredibly proud, they all were. JJ was one hell of a woman, her talents criminally underestimated.

Flynn. Morgan's grip on the neck of his beer bottle tightened at the name. Blood boiling as his hatred returned. It didn't matter that they'd got him in the end, that Ellie was safe and that the bastard was dead and gone. Morgan would hate that man until the day he died and himself, for what he'd let himself do.

Flynn had gotten to Morgan unlike any other. He was in his head and under his skin and Morgan had lost control, relinquished his power to Flynn and the son of a bitch knew it.

When Morgan had demanded Hotch allow him entry alone, he knew what he was going to do. Morgan knew that he wasn't letting Billy Flynn out of that house alive and now he had blood on his hands. Evil's blood but blood all the same.

Morgan clenched his jaw and balled his free hand into a tight fist. His knee bounced up and down as he fought to quell the rage within, but it was futile and Morgan exploded, sending his now empty bottle soaring across his living room, the sound of glass shattering against the wall echoing around him.

Morgan stood rigidly, his chest heaving and his fists clenched, jaw pulsing as he tried to reign in his anger, regain control. Morgan growled as knocking interrupted his dark thoughts and he stalked over, barking loudly, "Damn it, Penelope! I told you I'm fine, you don't—" he stopped short as he wrenched open the heavy door and met, not the deep hazel eyes of his red-headed baby girl, but the dark brown orbs of his raven haired partner.

"Prentiss?" his greeting came out as more of a question but it was Emily's head that was tilted questioningly.

Morgan frowned confused, and she arched her right eyebrow, nodding towards the door.

"Oh." Derek muttered, "Uh...Garcia stopped by, tried to convince me that drinkin' myself into a stupor ain't the answer." He explained deadpanned.

Emily shrugged, "She's concerned." She defended her friend casually, "We all are."

Derek resisted the urge to roll his eyes and shook his head instead, "No need."

"Right." Emily gave a very un-ladylike snort and rolled her eyes.

Derek glared at her, "You're not here for the same reason, are ya?" he demanded sternly, his tone one of warning.

Emily shook her head slowly and raised her arm, "Quite the opposite actually." She informed him, indicating the large decanter full of amber liquid in her right hand.

Now it was Derek's turn to tilt his head in a questioning manner, eyebrows raised, "Scotch?"

"Bourbon." Emily corrected smoothly then slipped past him without an invitation, tugging a small smirk to his lips.

"Come on in." Derek quipped unnecessarily, shutting the door behind her and turning the lock.

"Oh, come on." Emily threw over her shoulder as she made her way towards his kitchen, "You know you were gonna invite me in." She smirked, batting her eyelids flirtatiously.

Derek chuckled, for the first time since they'd landed in LA days ago, and nodded his head.

Emily retrieved two tumblers from her bag and cracked open the bottle, pouring a generous amount of amber liquid into each.

"Here ya go." She offered him a glass as she passed, making her way to his couch.

Derek watched her go, frowning when she paused, turned on her heels and headed back into his kitchen. "Prentiss?" he called, and she reappeared, pulling a genuine smile from his lips as she waved the decanter now in her hand, a goofy smile on her face but like his own, Derek noted sadly, her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

Emily placed the bottle on the coffee table as she eased herself down onto his couch with a sigh, then held up her tumbler expectantly.

Derek smirked, dropping down next to her, and lifting his glass knocked it against hers, then they downed their respective glasses in one.

"What we drinkin' to?" Derek questioned as he watched her refill their glasses.

Emily shrugged and turned to him, faltering, "Um...drinking?" she offered with a one shouldered shrug.

Derek took the proffered drink eagerly and grinned at his partner, amused by her answer, who grinned back.

Silence fell among the two as they each sipped mechanically, lost in their own heads until Emily spoke up.

"Surviving." She stated suddenly and Derek paused, glass mid-way to his lips, frowning in confusion.

Emily turned to him as she swallowed, "That's what we're drinking to." She elaborated turning back to stare at the wall in front of them, "Surviving." She repeated in a hoarse whisper coupled with a stiff nod.

Derek stared at his partner's profile silently as she tipped her glass back, emptying her second round and he realised that he wasn't the only one affected by this case, his team were too.

"What happened?" Emily questioned, her voice pulling him from his thoughts, a slender finger extended towards the dark stain on the wall and the broken glass beneath.

Derek followed her gaze slowly then shrugged, "Accident." He answered easily, emptying his glass and reaching for the decanter.

Emily, however, turned sharply and snatched it up first, pulling it towards her chest and out of his reach.

Derek frowned, reflexes impaired by the copious amount of alcohol already in his system, and sighed in frustration.

"Morgan." Emily persisted sternly, her expression impatient as her dark eyes searched his scarcely lighter ones seriously.

"C'mon, Prentiss." Derek groaned, leaning back against the couch unconsciously distancing himself from her and her unwavering, inquisitive stare.

Emily shook her head, "No." She refused, pouring them each another glass then holding it out to him, "Here. Drink this then start talkin'." She instructed firmly.

Derek narrowed his eyes and glared at her.

"Don't glare." Emily quipped with a smirk, "It's petulant...and futile." She commented coyly but her eyes still held the seriousness from before.

Derek rolled his eyes childishly, witty comeback escaping him, but accepted the glass, downing it quickly.

Emily nodded, feeling hopeful that she'd get him to open up—then again, if Penelope Garcia hadn't managed the task then Emily doubted she'd be any more successful.

Derek pressed his lips together as he fingered the empty tumbler in his hands, "I'm angry." He admitted quietly, snapping her attention back to him.

"At what?" Emily prodded, voice gentle, trying to catch his eye but he was staring resolutely at the stain on his wall.

"Everything." Derek ground out harshly "The whole fucking world and everythin' in it."

Emily dipped her head sombrely, "Yeah...we all feel that way sometimes. It comes with the job."

The other profiler shook his head and scoffed, shooting to his feet.

Emily sighed, closing her eyes and dropping her head. She raised her eyes to him and tried, "Morgan—" but he shook his head again and held up one hand to silence her.

Emily jerked back, blinking in surprise as her eyebrows arched incredulously. She knocked back the rest of her drink, took a breath, and pushed to her feet, refusing to back down.

Derek Morgan may be a stubborn man but Emily Prentiss was a stubborn woman.

She called his name as she approached, sliding in front of him, disrupting his mechanical pacing and earning herself yet another glare.

Emily arched an elegant brow, "Oh, don't you look at me like that, Derek Morgan."

Derek clenched his fist and growled, "Why won't you just let it go and have a drink with me?" he snapped, his eyes almost pleading with her to just leave it alone.

"I've already had a drink with you." Emily retorted smartly with a smirk then her eyes met his and she stared into them, "And I'm your partner, Derek." She reminded him, intentionally using his first name to convey the gravity of her concern. "It's my job to keep you grounded and my responsibility to make you talk, even when talking is the last thing that you want to do." Emily declared determinedly and Derek's eyes narrowed.

Derek mulled her words over in his head, then raised a questioning brow slowly, "Did you just quote me to me?" he accused with a knowing smirk.

Emily's eyes widened innocently and she bit her lip, "Maybe." She answered quietly with a slowly growing smile, "Did it work?" she questioned, squinting her eyes.

Derek stared into her eyes for several long moments before reluctantly nodding his head curtly.

Emily's grin was triumphant, obviously extremely proud of herself, "Okay good. Now, sit down." She ordered sternly, throwing in her own crippling glare, to which of course Morgan tried to laugh, but couldn't cause it scared him a little so instead, he swallowed hard and obediently took his seat on the couch.

Emily followed close behind, a satisfied smirk touching her lips, but the twisting in her gut was the only feeling she was currently aware of.

"Well?" Emily prompted impatiently as she watched Morgan stare off into space.

"He got to me, Em." Derek whispered, his fist clenching and unclenching on his knee.

Emily blinked, surprised by his sudden honesty but relieved that he was finally talking to her; perhaps her ambushing him on his doorstep wasn't such a bad idea after all?

"I let Flynn get under my skin and in my head!" He admitted aloud, kicking his coffee table forcibly in frustration.

Emily jumped at the noise, jerking back slightly and cringed, "Oh-kay..." she breathed, holding up her hands but keeping them at a safe distance, "Talking Derek." She reminded him tightly with wary eyes, "Not violence, talking."

"I killed him Emily." Derek stated, his voice hard and strained.

Emily sighed, "We've all been there, Derek." She told him regretfully.

Derek jerked his head back and forth sharply, "Not like this." He countered pouring himself another large measure of bourbon, which he had snatched back from her almost as soon as she had sat back down. "I saw red, Emily. I saw red and I...I just snapped."

Emily's brow creased, her eyes watching as her partner gulped down the burning liquid and poured himself another. She shook her head sharply and shifted closer to her friend in need, "Derek? Derek, look at me." She demanded, her hand unconsciously moving to cover his.

Derek's eyes travelled to their hands, staring at hers now covering his and smiled in amusement: her naturally pale skin looked almost transparent next to his dark chocolate tone.

"Derek?"

Her whisper brought his eyes back to hers, where he could clearly see her concern for him shinning through.

"Everyone has those moments." Emily assured him strongly, "We're told to separate our personal feelings from our professional head. To avoid becoming involved or attached in any way." She reminded him and he nodded, letting her know he was listening. "That that's the only way we can do our jobs to the best of our ability..." Emily shook her head, "It's not." She disagreed, "That's wrong, Derek." She insisted then faltered, second-guessing herself and amended with, "Okay, so maybe it is correct to an extent but not to go as far as complete detachment."

Derek smiled at the look on her face: the way her brow knitted together as she mulled her words over and how she shook her head at herself before she spoke again. He could see her logic, understand her reasoning but guilt...guilt is a very powerful thing and it can obscure even the clearest picture.

"Derek?" Emily called his name again, catching his eye and wondering what was going through his mind as he stared back at her, "We're only human, Derek, and humans feel things. It's—it's what makes us human." She smiled wryly at him, "And sometimes I, I think that you forget that." Emily informed him bluntly, "You forget that it's okay to make mistakes, it's natural. You're not perfect Derek." She said sadly, "No-one is and you can't torture yourself for that."

Derek's jaw tightened and he turned away from her, pulling his hand out from under hers, "I went in there to kill, Prentiss." Reverting back to their professional title's in an attempt to push her away.

Emily glowered at him, wanting to scream in frustration at his need to pull away when people got too close, it annoyed the hell out of her. But then again, she did the same.

"I went in that house knowin' exactly how it was goin' to end." Derek continued, ignoring the flash of hurt that momentarily shone in his partner's eyes when he pulled away. Almost masked by frustration.

"Flynn was goin' to die and I was determined to be the one pullin' the trigger. For Spicer, for Kristen..." he swallowed thickly, pressing his hands together, "And for Ellie. I wanted to tell that girl, for sure, that her nightmare was over. That her monster was dead."

Derek cleared his throat loudly and slowly turned back to his partner, "I wanted to watch the light go out in that bastard's eyes and know that I was responsible. That's not normal." He stressed, shaking his head at himself, disgusted.

Emily stared at her partner with widened eyes, speechless, and even more concerned than before—if she was honest, a little afraid. She knew that feeling. That need for revenge, and she'd certainly acted on it herself, but no matter how bad a person was, how rotten and evil, there was a line and apparently they had both crossed it.

Emily blinked several times, gaining back motor function and reached blindly, for the almost empty decanter. Had they really drank that much already?

Emily observed it with a light frown. No wonder her mind was growing a little hazy.

She emptied the last of the bitter amber drink into their glasses and held his up in front of his face, bringing her own to her lips.

Derek took it from her wordlessly and drank it all in one.

The silence, something she was normally comfortable with, was driving Emily mad as she sat there, chewing on her bottom lip wanting to say what was on the tip of her tongue yet knowing her partner would not take hearing it very well.

"I...had a feeling this was about Ellie." Emily said quietly, finally, and Derek cut his eyes to hers, "You blame yourself for what happened to her father. You...relate to her because you lost your father in the same way, just a year older than she is now." Emily elaborated, proving to her partner just how well she knew him.

"You take on the role—the burden—of hero so easily, Derek. Put all this pressure on yourself, on your abilities and when you fail...you come down so hard on yourself." She shook her head at him and took another sip then paused, her eyes shifting back and forth between her glass and her best friend several times before she nodded once, took Morgan's empty tumbler from his clasped hands and replaced it with her own.

Derek looked down, shot her a sideways glance, then finished hers off gratefully.

Emily took the second empty glass from him and placed both down on the wooden coffee table, silently. She cleared her throat, turning sideways on the couch to pull her legs up, crossing them in a basket in front of her before sliding her hand back on top of his, squeezing his fingers to get him to look at her. "It's not your fault, Derek." She told him fiercely and he squeezed his eyes closed, "You couldn't have saved Spicer." Emily whispered, "There was nothing you could have done for Kristen and Ellie..." she shook her head sadly at the thought of that little girl, "She's alive and I know that you'll make sure she's looked after."

Emily smiled softly at him, "You're a good man, Derek Morgan. A good man who was asked—no forced—to make a horrible and downright impossible promise to a condemned man. You did nothing wrong and everything right."

"I let him die, Em." Derek whispered, the guilt he was feeling dripping from his voice as he squeezed his closed eyes tightly.

Emily shook her head, "No, Derek. You saved his daughter." She corrected him, "And she meant more to that man than his own life. You did what he wanted."

Morgan sighed heavily and opened his eyes, looking directly into hers trying to explain to her silently, that he knew all of this but it wouldn't change a thing, not tonight.

Emily smiled at him and squeezed his fingers again, reading the message loud and clear. Her eyes wondered, seeking out their bottle. "Oh." She pouted when her eyes found the empty decanter and remembered. "We're all out." She announced dejectedly, shoulders hunching.

Derek smirked at the pout and tilted his head back, "There's beer in the fridge."

Emily smiled at him, "Mmm...tempting." she crooned untangling her legs, "But I think that's my cue to go." She shook her head as she stumbled off the couch with marginal difficulty and smoothed out her pants, "I'm gonna have a bad enough headache as it is, no need to make it worse." She reasoned, cringing at the thought of tomorrow's hangover.

Derek shook his head at her words, "Don't matter. We ain't workin' tomorrow." He reminded her with a wide smile and Emily chuckled.

Derek stared up at her with a goofy grin, "C'mon." He persisted, nudging her leg with his foot.

Emily narrowed her eyes suspiciously, "Morgan?" she called airily and he winked. A sharp bout of laughter escaped her lips and she shook her head, "How much have you had to drink?"

Derek's brow creased as he thought hard, "Dunno." He shrugged and Prentiss rolled her eyes at his uselessness.

Emily turned to the table and counted at least three empty beer bottles, including the one in pieces on his carpet. She moved swiftly into the kitchen area and peered into the deep sink, counting four more. Add that to the large decanter of very strong bourbon and an empty stomach and you get, "Uh-oh." Emily grimaced: recipe for disaster. "Woops." She muttered chewing on her lower lip.

Morgan was a big guy, sure, but they had eaten very little during their time in LA, living on a diet of coffee and more coffee for days, the odd snack food every now and again. That did not, in any way, prepare a body to handle the amount of alcohol Derek Morgan had consumed tonight.

"Crap." Emily cursed, shaking her head at her partner's stupidity.

"Prentiss?" Derek called loudly when he entered the kitchen in search of her, smiling when his eyes met hers, "Hey." He greeted cheerfully and Prentiss came to the confident conclusion that the alcohol had finally accomplished his intended goal.

"What you doin' in here?" He asked, glancing around them.

Emily gave him a stern look and jerked her thumb behind her, in the sink's direction, "You've had way too much to drink, Agent Morgan."

"Bull." Derek fired back shaking his head, "Have not." He countered petulantly and Prentiss arched an eyebrow at his tone, just repressing an amused smirk.

"I really should go home, now." Emily stated, more to herself than him but Morgan shook his head.

"You're not goin' nowhere." He informed her sternly. Derek may be intoxicated but not enough to realise that driving tonight could get his partner killed, "You can't drive so just crash here." He explained, the offer accompanied by a shrug.

Emily narrowed her eyes at him, "You sure?"

Derek nodded, moving towards her but, catching his foot on the leg of a chair, lost his footing and stumbled into her instead.

"OH!" Emily gasped as he collided with her, his body mass considerably more than her small frame, knocked the wind out of her, knocking her off her feet in the process.

Prentiss threw out her hand, blindly grasping for the kitchen table to avoid a fall but missed, the palm of her hand making painful contact with the pointed corner of the table instead. Emily winced and squeezed her eyes closed, bracing herself for the more painful impact with the hard floor, which never came.

Emily cracked an eye open when she heard a muffled groan and found herself staring into the deep brown, slightly glazed, orbs of Derek Morgan instead of the anticipated off-white ceiling above.

Derek smirked down at her, "Don't worry, I gotcha, Princess."

Emily smirked back, eyes widening slightly when she felt his hold on her tightening as he pulled her closer, balancing them both.

"Impressive." Emily complimented with a coy smile, "Considering your highly intoxicated state." She quipped a little nervously while attempting to wriggle free, feeling that the two of them were skating on thin ice right about now.

Emily licked her lips and bit down apprehensively, "Um...Morgan?" she rasped, squeezing his bicep—his really firm bicep—where her right hand currently resided in their tangled web of limbs.

Derek's eyes flickered down to her lips, feeling her hot breath against his skin as she spoke, then back to her mesmerising eyes, his intentions abundantly clear.

Emily felt her breath catch in her throat and the air leave her lungs abruptly, when Derek raised his gaze back up to meet hers. Emily unconsciously licked her lips again, wetting them expectantly.

Derek smirked, interpreting her action as his green light and dipped his head, lowered his mouth to hers.

The gasp that escaped Emily was sharp, the kiss rendering her breathless as her body ignited at the feel of his lips on hers.

His tongue traced along her bottom lip, seeking entrance which she eagerly granted as his hands travelled around her waist, one resting on her hip, holding tightly, while the other took up residence on her lower back.

Emily's hands slid up his arms to snake around his neck drawing him closer and Derek deepened the kiss even further in response: sliding his hands down her body to her thighs and gripped hard, lifting her up and placing her back down on top of the kitchen table, body pressed into hers firmly.

Emily's fingers pranced down his chest to the hem of Derek's t-shirt, gripping it urgently as she yanked it up and over his head, whimpering at the loss of contact before his lips came crashing against hers once more, the shirt discarded without care on the floor somewhere.

Emily ran her hands over every muscle, every dip, every curve of his chest greedily, while Derek's hands slipped under her tank top, teasing the skin he found there as he tore his lips from hers and attacked the sensitive skin of her neck instead.

Emily's eyes snapped open and a soft moan passed her lips at the sensation tingling through her body.

Derek groaned in response, that one small sound wreaking havoc on his senses, sending them into overdrive. He bit down on her neck, hard enough to make a point yet not enough to leave a mark and Emily gasped loudly.

Needing to feel more skin, Derek pulled back long enough to yank her red tank top up and over her head. Derek bit down on his bottom lip when his eyes found her full breasts and the simple red bra they were encased in.

Emily's nimble fingers made quick work of his belt while he was distracted, moaning when his lips returned to hers with fervour.

Derek drew his hands up her front to cup her breasts and smirked at the gasp it drew from her lips before he crushed them with his once again.

Hands continued to roam as lips continued to explore, neither profiler pausing long enough to realise exactly what they were doing and who they were doing it with. Neither pausing to consider what this would mean for their friendship, their partnership—two things that both hold near and dear—and nor did either profiler want to.

'Well, I hope it didn't suck lol and I apologize for the sex scene that didn't happen peeps :S I just can't go there with DEmily.
Dunno why, I mean I did it with Danimina but that's not the point. Hope it wasn't too much of a let down.
Please, review anyway & let me know if I should finish it :)'

Rachel xo