"Thank you so much for taking care of him…" Emily says, outside of Garcia's door. She waits while Garcia fumbles with the key. Apparently, she hasn't gotten used to this yet. Well, neither has Emily. It's like a dream.

"No! I mean, it's no problem at all. Having him was like having a part of you, while you were…" Garcia trails off as the key finally turns in the lock. Sergio, of course, comes to see who is here.

Emily feels her throat close at the sight of him. He's gotten so big. He's not a kitten anymore. Her heart sinks, as he goes to Garcia, and arches his back to be petted. He doesn't know her anymore.

"Here, honey," Garcia says, talking sweetly to Sergio and scooping him up. "Here's your mom." She gives the cat to Emily and he isn't happy.

Emily frowns. "Don't you remember me?" she asks in Italian. When she got him, just months before all the crap with Ian, the kitten reminded her of one she had seen in Italy as a teenager. She'd asked her parents for it, but they had refused. She had the name picked out and everything.

Saint Sergius was the patron saint of desert nomads. Sergio was the Italian equivalent and it meant "servant." Maybe. She had done some looking and realized no one really knew what Sergio meant. However, at fifteen, Emily had thought she was definitely in need of someone to watch over her. Even if it was a cat. Though she had not gotten one then, she had been convinced she had found her Sergio at precisely the right time.

Now, Sergio just glares at her with his green eyes.

"Hey, Em? Do you want your jacket?" Penelope calls from the next room. Emily ducks around the hanging beads and notices the leather jacket that smells like a peculiar mix of cat and Garcia. "Sergio probably will want it. He's slept with it every night since you…"

Emily sighs and sits down, finding Garcia's hand and holding on. She puts Sergio down and lets him size her up from all angles. "Are you okay?" she asks.

"I just can't believe you're here…" Garcia says, looking like she's seeing a ghost.

Silence falls around them. Emily drinks in the sight of her old friend, just as Garcia is doing. "I...uh…wrote you a postcard…about how beautiful Paris was…"

"You were in Paris? I'm so jealous! I mean - not about why you had to go there - just that you went without me…" Garcia amends. "So, where is it?"

"I actually burnt it right before I got the call to come back. I just…had a feeling something was about to happen and I wanted to be sure that if it was bad…that nothing could be traced back to you and the team."

Garcia nods.

"But I…I got your voice mail." Emily stays silent and watches Garcia swallow convulsively.

"I didn't know if you would I just…Hotch told me to try all your numbers…I was just following orders…and…" Garcia trails off, unsure now of what she said on the voice mail Emily claimed to have heard.

"I thought about it every day. It gave me strength when I was in the hospital, in pain. When I was in Paris alone for seven months, pretending to be some artist named Pascale. When all I wanted, more than anything, was to hear your voice, I'd imagine your voice. How you said you were in that dark place with me…and that you were coming… Garcia, it made all the difference in the world." Emily lets a pause grow between them and then glances down at Sergio again. "Now if my cat would only recognize me…"

"He will," Garcia reassures, squeezing her hand, as tears track down her cheeks. "We all did, didn't we?"

"I guess it'll take a while, huh?" Emily sighs, trying to smile.

"Probably," Garcia allows. "But, hey, on the bright side, if he doesn't? You can just live with me until he gets used to him again."

Emily laughs, and pulls Garcia in for a hug. "Sounds like a plan," she says, over Garcia's shoulder.

On the bed beside them, Sergio has curled up contentedly on Emily's jacket.

This will take time, Emily knows. But, she finds, she doesn't mind a bit.