[This is slightly AU, but this idea has been following me around forever and I had to write it. Hope it's not to OOC! Enjoy (:]

"Every form of addiction is bad, no matter whether the narcotic be alcohol or morphine or idealism."-Carl Jung

Emily couldn't sleep. As hard as she tried, as much as she closed her eyes, she could not fall asleep.

It's not like this feeling was unfamiliar to her. She'd never been much of a good sleeper, especially after she joined the BAU.

But the last two months, Emily had slept. Since she'd come back, she had been getting a full night's sleep, every night. Except tonight.

She rolled over, glancing at the clock beside her bed. Two AM.

Emily tried to force her eyes to close, but they wouldn't budge. She could not sleep. And she knew why too. Because something was missing.

The warm embrace that she'd come to depend on lately was gone, the chest she'd slept on wasn't there.

She couldn't hear his breathing and feel his reassuring hand around her shoulders.

Suddenly, the room felt much too cold and she shuddered, pulling her blanket closer.

God, she needed him.

As much as she hated to admit it, Emily Prentiss needed someone.

She remembered the first night she'd actually slept. It was when Garcia had somehow convinced her to stay at Morgan's place while she 'got back on her feet and all'.

Derek, of course, had said sure. He'd been a complete gentleman, despite his anger at her. He'd placed her bags down in the guest room, told her to make herself at home, and gave her a half-hearted hug as he retreated to his own room.

She had busied herself with taking a shower that night, then by unpacking and re-packing her bags. But eventually, she had to go to sleep. So she lay there, for what seemed like an eternity, until she finally drifted off. The next thing she knew, she was screaming and Derek was standing over her bed, shaking her awake. There were tears on her face and fear in his eyes.

He hadn't asked her what was wrong; he already knew. He just lay down beside her, on top of the covers, and wrapped one arm gently around her, testing for a reaction.

Emily had been surprised at first, but it didn't take long for her to settle into the crook of his arm and close her eyes while he whispered reassurances into her hair.

They stayed like that all night, and when she woke up in the morning, he was gone. He made her coffee, they chatted over breakfast and carpooled to work, just like nothing had happened. Both of them would prefer not to talk about it, so they didn't.

Every night, it would be the same. Their pattern would continue. She would have a nightmare, and he would be there, soothing her, falling asleep by her side. After a couple weeks, he didn't even wait for her nightmares. He would go to sleep with her right away. But always, in the morning, he would be gone when she woke up. Always, they wouldn't talk about it.

But it worked for them. For Emily, especially. She needed it. Somehow, Derek had become like a drug to her, one she didn't want to quit. And it was just literally sleeping with him by her side that she wanted so bad. It was feeling his body pressed up against hers and knowing that somebody in this world cared about her, somebody was there to help her fight her demons.

So, during her first night in her new place, her first night without him, she couldn't sleep.

She got up hesitantly, lightly padding through the empty house into her kitchen.

Sighing as she looked at the coffee-maker, she poured herself a glass of water and sat on the stool near her counter. Why'd she have to pick now to quit caffeine?

Emily looked around the empty room sadly, then looking down at the five lonely boxes on the floor. What would she even fill this place with? Most of her furniture had been thrown out or sold when she 'died'. The few possessions that still remained she wasn't sure she would even keep. They all reminded her too much of Paris, and the life she used to have before the whole Doyle mess. She already thought about it everyday at work – about how the team would probably never be the same. She didn't need reminders at home too.

Taking a sip of her water, she remembered how Morgan had helped her move here. She could still see his face as he put down the last box and handed her the key. Then, she'd told him to keep it, just for emergencies, but more for his own reassurance. He'd said "Of course Em." His tone was playful, his stance ordinary, but his eyes told the truth. His eyes said a goodbye that his words never would.

Yes, they would see each other at work every day. Yes, they would still be partners. But that strange and comforting sleeping ritual they'd developed; that would never continue. And, honestly, Emily didn't know if she would ever sleep again.

So he had walked out the door, giving her a weak smile, leaving her alone with her feelings and an empty house she had no clue how to fill.

Emily took a deep breath and contemplated going to bed again, but she knew that would get her nowhere. So she gave in and pressed the start button on her coffee-maker, putting a spoonful of decaf in.

Then there was a shy knock on her door. Immediately, she spun around, reaching for the gun on her belt, before realizing it wasn't there. But it was just a knock; no need to be paranoid, she thought to herself.

Emily opened the door carefully, taking in the sight before her. There stood Derek Morgan, looking at her with tired eyes.

"I.. I saw your lights were on...", he trailed off, motioning to her kitchen and the light streaming through the tiny window.

She stepped aside, still slightly shell-shocked, and let him in, bolting the door shut behind him.

He side-stepped the boxes and took a seat on one of the bar stools, staring into space.

"I thought you quit caffeine.", he pointed out after a second.

She just shrugged her shoulders, still perplexed to why he was here.

"It's decaf.", she responded.

Derek gave a quick nod as she put in a packet of sugar into her coffee, rummaging around her empty fridge for the milk. She took much longer than usual, stirring her coffee for a good couple minutes.

Emily just couldn't bare to look at him. She knew how well he could read her, and she was afraid he would see the need and desperation in her eyes.

She was sure she'd been standing with her back to him, absentmindedly stirring her coffee, for hours when she felt his hands lightly on her waist, turning her around. Her face must've shown surprise at the touch, but he pulled her into a hug anyway.

And when she was in his arms, she could breathe.

He didn't ask anything, neither of them said a word. Derek just slowly led her to her bed and lay down beside her, just like always.

Emily turned over and looked him in the eyes, questions and doubts almost rolling off her tongue, but the look in his eyes stopped her. It was almost pleading: he needed this too.

This was like a drug that neither of them could quit. They were like addicts; desperate for that 'one last hit', both knowing full well that it wouldn't be.

But Emily didn't care. At that moment, she felt right. Being in his arms felt right; it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

So she closed her eyes within seconds, not worrying about tomorrows and consequences. Not thinking about serial killers and Doyle. She fell asleep, thinking about the now: about her in his arms; right there at that moment, feeling his heart beating and his warm hand around her waist. And she swore she'd never had a better night's sleep in her life.

[This will most likely be a two-shot, so review if you want me to continue ;)]