"Isn't Morgan coming?" JJ sank into the booth across from Garcia as she set her food on the table. It was late afternoon and there wasn't much of a dinner crowd yet, so the tech analyst had managed to grab a great table next to the window.

Garcia paused at JJ's question, her fork poised in front of her lips. "He said he needed to go the grocery store." Her fork finished its journey and she closed her eyes and moaned in appreciation. "God, this is the best macaroni and cheese on the planet."

"What? But this is his favorite deli… let me in JJ." JJ rolled her eyes and stood up to allow Reid to wiggle across the seat. "I thought he was going to eat with us and take a sandwich to go for Emily."

"Well, he decided he wanted to make her his mama's lasagna. And frankly, as long as my beautiful man is getting my beautiful Vision to finally eat, then I'm okay with him standing us up. And speaking of beautiful, what's our beautiful and brilliant godson doing tonight?" She turned to JJ as she scrunched her face in amusement.

"They are at the movie theater watching 'How To Train Your Dragon'. I, fortunately get to miss out on that cartoon."

"Actually, it's an animated movie and did you know that David Tennant is one of the voice actors in that movie?" Reid's face lit up with a happy grin as he spoke, his busy fingers punctuating his words as Garcia nodded at him enthusiastically.

"Okay, since I don't know who that is I'm going to assume it's some science fiction person. Can we please have one conversation without the two of you going all nerdy on me?" JJ poked at her grilled chicken before she placed her fork down with a sigh. "Have either of you talked to Emily this afternoon?"

Reid shook his head as Garcia replied, "No Cupcake, I leave her alone on therapy days. Besides, she wouldn't answer her phone anyway. She sure does love the kitten I got her though!" She beamed as she looked across the table at JJ's skeptical face.

"What? Everybody knows animals are therapeutic and she was talking about getting a cat anyway. And she dotes on her little fur baby!"

JJ took a sip of her lemonade, and placed the glass back on the table. Like a nervous tic, she ran her index finger around the rim of the glass as her eyes glazed over, seemingly lost in thought. With a sudden shake of her head, she lifted her eyes to meet Garcia's. "Hotch said they finished watching Michaels' homemade videos today. Emily's was the final one." She paused; her face softening as the tech analyst's eyes misted over. "I'm sorry Penelope; we don't have to talk about it." She reached out to squeeze Garcia's hand.

"At least he can't hurt anymore women." Reid awkwardly handed her a napkin to dab her eyes with and quickly drew back as she snatched it with indignation.

"You chose not to watch what he did to her. I didn't get that choice, someone had to digitize and catalogue those videos. That man was a monster! And the fact that he touched our girl just makes me want to…" She blew her nose into the napkin as JJ came around the table to sit next to her, placing an arm around the distraught woman's shoulder.

"Hey Penelope, you know Emily and she is not going to let this keep her down. She's already grumbling that she hasn't been in the field for three weeks. She said she was tired of restrictive duty and itching to get back into action."

Reid watched as JJ tried to sooth Garcia and he wanted to believe the words she was saying. But the reality was that Prentiss went through a very traumatic event and it was very likely she was suffering from any number of emotional issues; possibly even PTSD. She seemed fine this past week, almost like her old self: grumbling about the overwhelming number of consults; the endless paperwork that continued to pile up on her desk; and yelling across the bullpen, threatening whomever the idiot was who kept drinking the last drop of coffee without making a fresh pot. But Reid could see the dark circles under her eyes that her make-up didn't quite cover and the subtle distance she kept from them; keeping them at arm's length, even more than she usually did. He knew all too well the hell that could be hiding under the surface and the lengths a person would go through to make the pain go away; or at least to numb the pain, if only for a little while.

"Do you really believe that?" Both women looked at him with expressions as different as their personalities. Garcia's went from hopeful at the words JJ spoke to her, to anxious at what Reid might mean by his question. JJ gave him a glare, her eyes warning him from voicing anything that would upset Garcia any further. But he couldn't keep the words to himself. "Do you really think she's okay or itching to get back into action? Or is she putting on a brave face while she avoids dealing with what happened to her?"

With most of the BAU gone for the day, Hotch was taking advantage of the lack of distractions to look over the file of a possible case. But his internal distractions were almost as bad. Prentiss had worked most of the morning before leaving for her appointment with Dr. Bower, and he couldn't suppress the nagging worry he felt every time he looked at her. A presence at his office door drew his attention away from his thoughts and he looked up as Rossi sauntered in. He was toting a bottle of Gentleman Jack and two tumblers, which he deposited on Hotch's desk as he took a seat.

Hotch watched in amusement as Rossi began pouring the golden liquid into the glasses. "We're starting early tonight, aren't we?"

The older agent placed the bottle aside and lifted one of the glasses. "After the afternoon we had, I think we're due." He raised the glass to his lips and took a sip, closing his eyes as he savored the flavor.

Hotch couldn't think of a reasonable argument, so he threw reason aside and lifted his own glass. The whiskey was full-bodied and smooth, and he nodded his approval. "Prentiss will probably be cleared for field duty later this week."

"That's what I hear. What do you think about that?"

Hotch twirled the liquid around in the tumbler as he pondered Rossi's question. "She says she's ready."

"But…" Rossi prompted.

"It's only been three weeks and I can't help but wonder if it's too soon. You saw what he did; do you honestly think she's ready to be back in the field?"

"I did see what he did to her, and I saw what she did to him. She profiled him, manipulated him, tricked him, stabbed him, and eventually got away from him. Hell, even I was surprised at her tenacity. Is she ready to be back in the field? I can't answer that, only she can. The question here is, are you ready for her to be back in the field?" Rossi poured himself another couple of fingers and gestured at Hotch with the bottle.

Hotch tossed back the rest of his drink and held out the empty glass for a re-fill. "I don't know. Her method of dealing is to lock the trauma away in a tidy little box in her mind. That's what she was taught from an early age." I guess…maybe…I compartmentalize better than most people. He frowned as he remembered the words she said to him and JJ, just a few months after joining the unit. They were so alike in that manner. Taking all the responsibility and never asking for help.

"Not only did we see her at her most vulnerable, but a large portion of her ordeal was recorded, which now you, Morgan and I have watched." Rossi failed to keep the anger he felt out of his tone.

Hotch shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "When you add the horror that Michaels inflicted on her, I'm not sure Prentiss has a box big enough to lock all that away."

"Can I make a suggestion?" He paused as he waited for Hotch's consent. "Put her with me for the first couple of cases. I can subtly keep an eye on her and Morgan won't be able to smother her."

"That was actually my intention." Hotch considered whether he should admit his next thought to his friend, and when he finally made his decision, his soft voice sounded almost desperate. "Dave, do you know how many times I nearly lost it? It took all of my self-control to keep it together for the team." He downed the contents of his glass with one large gulp. "You know, I agreed with Morgan after I ordered everyone to go back to the hotel. I wanted to stay and keep working the case…"

"But we didn't have anything to go on and the team needed to rest. You did the right thing Aaron."

"I know…I know I did. But my biggest fear was finding her body and discovering she had been killed while we were back at the hotel." Hotch cringed as he set his glass back on the desk. "And I thought Colorado was bad."

"Well, she made it back from Oklahoma just like she made it make from Colorado, and she's going back into the field. So are you going to be a mother hen around her? Because if you are, please try not to be too obvious…she just might deck you."

The corners of Hotch's lips rose imperceptibly. "I doubt I'll be anywhere near as bad as Morgan will be."

The flickering light from the TV failed to hold her interest as Emily stared in its general direction. The hours following her required appointments with Dr. Bower usually left her reliving their session and the topics that were discussed. Today's subject was her false surrender. The shrink seemed interested in why the ruse Emily used had bothered her so much. After all, that's what gave you the advantage over him. She scowled as Dr. Bower's annoyingly placating voice rang in her mind.

Emily was pretty sure she had not managed to explain it clearly. She wasn't even sure if she completely understood why herself. Maybe it was because after trying for so long to stay strong, through all the pain, humiliation, and fear, that to suddenly give up was abhorrent to her. Sure it wasn't a real surrender, and maybe it was stubborn pride that was making it difficult for her accept what she had to do.

The doorbell pulled Emily out of her reverie and she frowned as she looked at the clock. Morgan had been stopping by with dinner after work, but it was too early to be him. The end table next to her held her personal pistol and she quickly opened the drawer and pulled out her Beretta PX4 9MM; inserted the magazine and pulled back the sliding mechanism to load the chamber. Quietly, she stalked barefoot down the entry hall and placed her eye to the peephole as she approached the front door. She knew they would show up here sooner or later. Sighing in resignation, she tucked the gun into the drawer of her entry table, and opened the door.

"Hey guys, when did you get back in town?" She leaned against the open door and watched as Dean, Nick and Tom strode over the threshold and headed towards her kitchen. "Please, make yourselves at home," she muttered as she closed the door and followed them.

Tom was rooting through her cupboards while Nick was filling the coffee pot with water as Emily entered the room. "What are you doing?"

"Making coffee, what's it look like?" Tom's inflection told her the answer should have been obvious. "Where do you keep your coffee, by the way?"

Nick moved out of her way as Emily crossed to the cupboard above the coffee maker and pulled out the coffee canister and four mugs, grumbling under her breath the entire time.

"I'm sorry; I didn't quite catch that." Her former partner smiled down at her as he took the coffee from her, scooped the grounds into the filter and turned on the machine.

"I said…" She hesitated and looked at the three men, filling the space in her kitchen. She had known them most of her adult life and she trusted them irrevocably, but she knew why they were here. Tom had obviously told them what had happened, but she was just not sure if she could do this with them right now. She bit her lip as she listened to the coffee percolate behind her, the aroma soothing her senses.

"We just came by for coffee." Dean smiled as she looked at him incredulously. "I suppose a little talk wouldn't be out of order. Nick and I haven't seen you for a couple of months; we wanted to catch up." Emily snorted at his less than completely honest answer, but accepted a cup from Nick and motioned them into her living room.

Emily settled herself onto the middle cushion of the couch; one leg tucked under her, wrapped her hands around the warm mug, and deeply breathed in the aroma. Nick and Tom sat on either side of her and Dean eased into the nearby arm chair. Splayed half-in and half-out of a pet bed in the corner, was her little black kitten; the back half of his body still on the carpet, while the front half had actually made it into the bed.

"You got a cat?" Nick eyed the sleeping kitten with amusement.

She smiled with affection at the kitten's prone body. "Sergio was a gift."

"Sergio? You named him Sergio?" Dean's voice seemed skeptical as he studied his former subordinate.

"Yeah, so?" The men looked at her quizzically. "What's wrong with Sergio?"

"Didn't you have an old boyfriend named Sergio?" Emily titled her head and looked at Dean with a puzzled expression.

"No, his name was Shamus." Nick pointed out helpfully.

"His name was Sacha.'' Emily corrected them, before muttering. "You must think I'm pathetic to name my cat after an old boyfriend."

A few minutes ticked by in silence as everyone but Emily sipped their coffee; they all avoided eye contact with each other. Emily felt the tension in her rising; she knew the questions were about to come her way and she had never been able to hide her emotions as easily from these men. They had known her too damn long.

"How are you holding up, Kid?" Emily gave a small start as Dean's sudden question broke the silence and her own inner musings.

"I'm fine." Emily, Nick and Tom all replied in unison.

Dean grinned as Emily glared at Nick and Tom in turn. "Obviously you need a more original answer. We've heard that one before."

Emily sighed as she set her mug on the coffee table. "Physically, I am fine. I didn't have any really serious injuries. The cuts were stitched up; although, one of them was infected, but antibiotics cleared that away. The bruising is gone and the taser scabs are peeling off."

"What about up here?" Nick lightly tapped his index finger against her head.

Swatting his hand away from her, she narrowed her eyes at him before she continued. "I'm seeing a Bureau shrink. She should clear me this week for full duty." She paused and looked across the room. "But she has requested that I continue seeing her."

She could see Tom nod his head in her peripheral vision. "That's probably a good idea. Will you?"

Emily shrugged her shoulders slightly. "I don't know…maybe. She's not that bad."

Dean leaned forward in his chair and placed his empty mug on the coffee table. "Do you remember what happened?"

"I remember most of it." She nodded her head lightly and unconsciously began picking at her thumbnail. "The parts I have a hard time remembering are after the taser shocks. I don't remember him taking off my clothes, or making the first cut into my chest." The men all grimaced at her matter-of-fact intonation of the description of her abuse. "The second day is crystal clear though, until Morgan and Rossi busted through the door. It gets a little fuzzy after that."

"You were in shock." Tom replied softly.

"Yeah, I guess so. It's taken them awhile, but they finally found all the torture tapes he made of his victims. He had them hidden in several places around his friend's house and out-buildings. I haven't watched any of them. Or mine. I'm not quite ready for that." It was bad enough the entire team saw her hurt and vulnerable, but the thought of them watching Michaels torture her was a humiliation she didn't want to think about. She would rather pretend they hadn't seen it. Emily switched her assault from her left thumbnail, to her right; an action that had not gone unnoticed by the men. "But what I remember most through the whole thing, is the absolute certainty that the team would find me. I never let go of that."

A deafening silence filled the room and Emily brought her focus back to her former teammates, none of whom would meet her eye, and she realized what she had just said. "Oh…guys, that wasn't a dig at any of you. I always knew the risks when I went under, and I accepted that. We've already been through this… years ago." She looked pointedly at Nick, who had finally raised his eyes to her gaze.

Dean rubbed his hand over his face. "Emily, don't mind us; we're just relieved your team found you too."

Nick shifted his body slightly studying her as she was focused on Dean. "You look like you haven't been eating or sleeping."

"Is that your way of saying I look like shit?"

"No." Nick calmly placed his mug next to hers and turned to her. "It's my way of politely asking; are you eating and sleeping?"

"I am eating…now," she admitted hesitantly. "And Morgan has made it his personal mission to feed me every evening."

"And sleep?" Tom prompted.

"The shrink prescribed an antidepressant to help with the anxiety."

Dean raised an eyebrow at that. "Nightmares?"

"No." Emily shook her head and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "When I finally fall asleep, I'm okay."

"Flashbacks." Nick nodded knowingly. "I remember you saying that they plagued you after Moscow."

Emily waved her hand as she made a non-committal noise. "If I keep myself busy I'm fine, but…" She trailed off and looked vacantly across the room. "It's worse when I'm lying in bed, trying to go to sleep. The pills are supposed to help, eventually. I just really hate having to take them."

"What do you see?"

She looked at Dean with large, pleading eyes and shook her head.

Tom finally set his coffee mug on the table and gave her hands a squeeze. "Em, it's us. We've been through hell and back together. We literally lived together for five years. We've seen the best and worst of each other, and through it all, we've always been there for each other. You know that doesn't change just because you're on some elite FBI team now."

She knew Tom was right. No matter how much she loved her BAU team; there were so many things she had kept from them. Some out of necessity – they simply didn't have the clearance to know about her past – but also because she came to the BAU with so many walls built up to protect herself, that she wasn't even sure if she could completely let them in. She had discussed the flashbacks with the bureau psychiatrist, but Emily always spoke of the flashbacks in a professional manner. She refused let it show how much they affected her emotionally.

Pulling her hands from Tom's grasp, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly, crossing her arms over her chest. "I see his eyes. How they could go from dull and flat to excited at the thought of hurting me. I hear the sound the hose made as it hit my body and I can still feel the terror of not knowing where it will hit next, or when it will stop. I feel the ice water as he dumps it on my body and I wonder if I'll ever be warm again." She paused to clear her throat. "But the worst one…" Her voice cracked and she struggled to keep her breathing even. "Over and over I see Morgan's body, convulsing on Michaels' living room floor." A sudden sob escaped her and she clasped a hand over her mouth in a desperate attempt to stifle the well of emotions that threatened to break.

Nick reached out and clutched her other hand and her tears finally fell. This was the one flashback she had held back from her therapist. She knew if she had voiced this during her sessions, she wouldn't have been able to keep her emotions in check. All three men moved closer, as if trying to lend support with their mere presence.

"I can't get it out of my head. He's always been this big, strong presence at my side, and to have him there with me and then incapacitated in a matter of seconds…" She sniffed and raised her hand to brush away the tears that continued to fall. "I've never felt so helpless. And that includes being chained naked to a wall by a sexual sadist."

Dean held a tissue in his outstretched hand and she accepted it gratefully. "And the worst part is…I-I hesitated. When I saw Derek; I just froze."

"That's understandable."

"No Dean, it's not! I was trained better than that and you know it!" Anger had replaced her anguish. Anger she felt at her longtime friends for making her voice her shortcomings. Anger at Morgan for not being the superman she had come to expect; but simply a man who had moments of weakness, just like everybody else. Anger at Tony Michaels for taking away the life she had, and now missed; a life that did not consist of her team watching her every move, smothering her with their concern and pity. But mostly she was mad at herself for caring so goddamn much, when all she really wanted to do was shut everybody out and not feel anything.

"Emily," Tom reasoned. "Someone you care about was attacked and hurt right in front of you."

Emily shook her head stubbornly, scrubbing her face furiously with the tissue. "If I hadn't hesitated, Tony wouldn't have gotten the upper hand on me. The entire ordeal could have been avoided if I had kept my head in the game."

"You don't know that." Dean reached out and lightly touched her knee. "The man got the jump on both of you. Neither of you were expecting a fight when you got there."

She felt Nick shift subtly on the cushion next to her, and she closed her eyes as his soft words battered at her stubborn anger. "Em, you cannot burden yourself with guilt for circumstances that were beyond your control. You told me that once, do you remember?" She ran her tongue over her lip and nodded her head briefly at his question. "I believe you told me to 'get over it'. Did I get over it? To be honest, not really. Did I work through it? Yes, I did…eventually." Nick smiled at her as he recalled the bittersweet night she forced him to talk out his unresolved guilt about leaving her behind.

"Can I ask you a question?" Tom thought for a moment about how he should phrase what he wanted to say. The last thing he needed was for her to shut down after she had finally begun to open up to them. "Why do you think the flashbacks of Agent Morgan upset you more than the flashbacks of your own torture?"

Emily turned wide, red-rimmed eyes to him, as Nick and Dean shifted uncomfortably. "What? But… Tom, I told you; I felt helpless. That's why..."

"Or, you could be focusing on Morgan to avoid what you went through. That has always been your pattern. You put all your energy into those around you to avoid facing your own pain."

"That's what happened when we ran into each other in Belgrade. You wanted to talk about the guilt I still felt, but you wouldn't talk about what you went through." Nick pulled back from her involuntarily as Emily turned to him, anger flashing in her dark eyes.

"I told you then that I had dealt with it, Nick; I didn't need to talk about it. You were the one who hadn't faced what had happened." She stood up abruptly and began to stalk around the living room; staring at the carpet in front of her while she paced rather than meet the wary eyes of her friends.

"Em, please stop pacing and listen to me." Tom pleaded softly as he watched her. "Now it's true you've had training that your team doesn't even know about, and I know this is hard for you to hear, but you still need to face what happened. I mean really face it. Not bury it, or build a wall around it like some Agency machine. You don't need to do it today, or tomorrow, or even next week. But I think your therapist is right, you should continue to see her. Let her help you. It's okay to need help and it's okay to ask for it. You can't face it alone; you're not an Agency machine anymore. Allow yourself to feel, to be human.

Emily abruptly stopped her pacing and closed her eyes as a memory forced its way into her conscious. And I need to know that I can be human.

She opened her eyes and drew in a shaky breath. She felt raw and exposed. Tom had seen right through her; all three of them had, and a part of her was relieved. Trying to be strong all the time was so damn hard. She didn't want to play the part of the Agency machine anymore. "I'm not sure I know how to let anyone in anymore." Her husky voice was thick with emotion, and tears began to fall once more.

Nick rose from the couch and enveloped her in his arms and she leaned into his warm embrace. She took comfort in the security of his arms, and Emily knew this was exactly what she needed. She clutched him tightly as he stroked her back. "Sure you do Em; you're just a little out of practice is all."

Her bitter chuckle was muffled against his chest and he smiled as he tenderly kissed the top of her head. "Are you mad at us?" His smile widened as she shook her head, her face still buried in his chest. "Not even at Tom? You know he kinda sounded like an Oprah special."

She chortled as she stepped away from his embrace, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "No, not even at Tom." A small smile formed as she considered the three men, her gaze finally resting on Tom. "Thank you." She sniffed and hesitated for a moment, "You're probably the only ones who could tell me those things and actually get me to listen."

"So you did actually listen?" Dean's serious tone is belied by the beginnings of a smirk and he handed her another tissue.

Emily blew her nose and then gave a rueful smile at his remark. "I know it may not seem like it, but I do listen sometimes." She glanced at the coffee table and quickly changed the subject. "I can make more coffee." She gestured to the mugs lying on the table.

"No thanks." The three men replied in unison.

With a slight shake of her head, she snatched a couple of the mugs when Tom suddenly rose to his feet to join her. "Hey Bambi, let me help you with that." He grabbed the remaining cups and followed her into the kitchen, watching her as she rinsed them under the tap. "Listen, I'm sorry if I was tough on you in there. I just need to know that you are going to be okay."

She rolled her eyes, but gave him a smile when she saw his worried expression. "I will be Tom, I really will. Look, I know I internalize too much. And you're right; I do bury stuff away to avoid dealing with it. I can't change overnight, but I will try to work on it. And the team has been trying to be supportive, without pushing me too much. So I'm grateful for that."

"Mmm…" The smug look on Tom's face piqued Emily's interest.

"What?"

He leaned a hip against the counter and crossed his arms. "Well, in our last few phone calls, I don't hear as much about the team as I do about Derek Morgan."

Emily felt a flush spread across her face and she busied herself with putting the mugs away in the dishwasher.

"What? No witty retort from Emily Prentiss? Wow, I think that's a first."

His smug expression deepened and Emily pretended not to notice. "How did Declan do on his vocabulary test?"

"He got an A. Quit trying to change the subject."

The other two men sauntered into the kitchen. "What are you whispering about?" Nick asked as the doorbell rang.

"Saved by the bell," she muttered to Tom under her breath as she headed toward the front door. "That's probably Morgan." She called over her shoulder as the men followed her into the entry.

"Hey." She greeted him with a smile as she opened the door.

"Hey, yourself. I hope you're in the mood for Lasagna, because my mama's recipe…" Morgan's voice trailed off as he stepped inside her apartment and noticed the three men staring at him from behind Emily. "Emily, is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine." She smiled back at her former teammates as she closed the door behind Morgan. "Derek, I would like you to meet some old friends of mine. They stopped by for a visit, but they are on their way out." She gave them a pointed look, warning them to behave themselves. "This is Dean Hawke, Tom Kohler and Nick Murphy."

All three men stepped forward to shake Morgan's hand. "We're honored to finally meet you Agent Morgan." At the surprised look on the agent's face at their apparent knowledge of him, Dean elaborated. "Emily's told us about you. Well, I guess we will be on our way. It looks like the two of you have some cooking to do." Dean winked at Emily as he stepped in for a hug. Planting a kiss on top of her head he murmured to her, "you call me if you need anything, okay Kid?"

Emily gave him a quick nod as he turned to walk out the front door. Her attention was quickly drawn to Tom as he wrapped her in a tight hug and pecked her cheek with a kiss. "Bye Bambi, I'll call to check up on you later." He gave her a final squeeze before joining Dean in the hall.

Nick pulled her into a lingering hug and placed a quick kiss on her lips. "I can come back later to tuck you in, if you like."

Emily, suppressing a smirk, looked back up at him as she shook her head. "In your dreams, Buddy."

"Every night." Nick smiled down at her as he pulled away. "I've missed you. Call me later, okay?" She nodded as she continued to look at him, her expression a cross between irritation and mild amusement. Expecting Nick to behave was asking too much.

As Morgan watched the exchanges between his partner and her friends, his features became more and more bewildered and by the time Nick stepped away from Emily, the agent's eyes were narrowed suspiciously. Nick approached Morgan and held his hand out to him once more. "I've been where you are. Just know that it was beyond your control and you can't change what happened." Morgan shook Nick's hand and his look of suspicion turned to confusion at his words. As the man walked through the threshold, pulling the door closed behind him, Morgan turned his attention back to Emily.

"Well, that was interesting. How long have you known them?" He watched her with bemusement as she fidgeted under his stare.

"A long time." She paused, and seemed on the verge of saying something more, when she suddenly changed her mind. She reached for the shopping bags and asked with forced cheer. "So, what are we making tonight?" She led him back to the kitchen where she deposited the bags on the counter and began to rummage through them.

"My mama's famous lasagna, with garlic bread and a garden salad." Her red-rimmed eyes had not escaped his notice and he watched her carefully as she unloaded the bags; something seemed to have happened and he was unsure of how to proceed. "Do you want to chop the veggies for the salad while I start the lasagna?"

"Sure." She smiled slightly as she pulled the chopping board from the cabinet. They both worked in silence for several minutes: the only sounds were the sizzling of meat, the chopping of the knife and the slow bubbling, coming from the boiling pasta on the stove. It was not an entirely uncomfortable silence. In the past few weeks Morgan had come to feel comfortable in Emily's condo, and he moved effortlessly around the kitchen.

Trying to sound casual he asked, "So, how do you know those guys."

He heard a sigh behind him before she finally responded. "It's complicated."

Struggling to hide his frustration he continued. "Okay…so how did therapy go today?" Morgan kept his voice light as he focused on the browning meat in front of him.

"It went okay." She turned to watch him working at the stove for a few moments before she continued. "I'm thinking I might continue to see her, even after she's cleared me for duty." She turned quickly back to chopping vegetables as Morgan pivoted to face her.

"Really?" He failed to hide the astonishment from his tone and he grimaced as he saw her back go rigid at his question. "What I meant was; I think that's a good idea."

"You do?"

"Of course I do. With what we see and do, it's good to have someone to talk to; to help us deal. And sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger rather than someone you're close to."

"So who do you talk to?" She asked softly into the air.

"Clooney."

She turned back around to face him, her teeth gripping her bottom lip. "So, you don't think it's weak or…"

"Emily, no one would ever describe you as weak, especially me." He moved the skillet from the hot burner to a cold one and joined her at the counter. "I watched the video today." She squirmed uncomfortably and he spoke quickly to ease her discomfort. "And what I saw was a woman who refused to give up, who never stopped fighting, and who would have made it out on her own if we hadn't interrupted her escape. I am so proud of you." As she turned her scrutiny to the floor, he reached out to lightly touch her arm. "I'm so sorry…"

She lifted her head to meet his gaze and gasped at the guilt and distress that warred in his eyes. "Derek, it wasn't your fault." She sighed at his momentary look of disbelief. "I hesitated…"

He watched her with confusion as she turned from him and scooped up the kitten that had padded into the room. "What?"

Keeping her back to Morgan, she scratched the sleepy cat behind his ears and allowed a momentary smile to grace her features as Sergio looked up and blinked at her with his big green eyes. She then steeled herself to finish the conversation she had started.

"When I turned and saw you on the ground after Michaels tasered you… I hesitated. If anything, it's my fault."

Morgan stepped closer to her and shook his head. "Emily, that's crazy. It wasn't your fault."

"It's not any crazier than you blaming yourself!" She took a calming breath as she turned to face him, the kitten in her arms squirming to get free. "Derek…I-I guess we both have guilt issues we need to work out." She paused as she worked up the courage to say her next words. "Maybe we can work on it together." She lowered Sergio to the floor and he slinked towards his food bowl, until a phantom menace only he could see caused him to jump in the air, twist his body mid-jump and bolt out of the room.

Both agents watched the kitten's antics: Emily with a large grin; Morgan with a raised eyebrow and a shake of his head. He turned back to her and his face softened when he saw her reaction to the kitten. In that moment, she looked calm and happy. He missed seeing her like that and he would do anything to help her get that back. But was she actually willing to talk to him, to really open up? She never seemed to trust easily. As if reading his thoughts, she met his eyes and softly spoke to his questioning gaze. "I know it's not going to be easy, but I trust you Morgan, and I want to try…if you're willing."

He flashed a smile as he pulled her into a firm hug and she hesitated for a moment before she wrapped her arms around his waist. "We are a pair aren't we?" He murmured into her hair. "Both proud and too damn stubborn for our own good." He grunted as she suddenly jabbed him in the ribs. Chuckling he pulled back and looked into her expressive eyes. "Yes, I am willing to try. For you, I am always willing and I'll always be here for you. We're not just partners, you're my friend."

Emily squeezed his hand as she quirked her lips in amusement. "Well, can I just tell you as one friend to another? Your pasta's boiling over."

A/N: Thank you for taking this journey with me.

I know I've said this in every AN, but a huge thank you to my beta, lostinoblivion. Your encouragement, knowledge, advice and support have been invaluable. I could not have done this without you.