Morgan had spent the night lying awake on the couch, watching the door, waiting and praying for his wife to come home. But morning came and she still hadn't.

He hardly dared to believe his eyes, then, when he dragged himself tiredly into the bullpen to find Emily sitting hunched over her desk as if it were any other morning. He gently rested a hand on her shoulder as if to assure himself that she were real, that she wasn't some creation of his mind, desperate to see his wife again. "Emily..." he whispered.

She took a shaky breath, pursing her lips to steel her nerves, then turning to give him a stern look. "I'm very busy, Morgan," she said flatly, the purposeful use of his last name speaking volumes. "I don't have time to talk right now."

Undaunted by her detached manner, he insisted, "I need to talk to you. In private."

"I really can't. I need to have these reports finished for Hotch."

"It won't take long," he said softly, "I really need to speak with you alone. Please."

"Derek..." she whispered, "Please, don't do this." But he continued to look at her with that pleading look he used when he was desperate and worried about her. She sighed, nodding once, and stood to follow him to his office. As soon as the door closed behind them, she said, "This doesn't change anything."

He said nothing for a long moment as he wrapped his arms tightly around, indescribably glad just to have her in his arms again. "You scared me," he murmured, his voice cracking. "Are you alright? Did the twins keep you up all night again? Are you eating well? Are you staying safe?"

She melted into his embrace, nuzzling his neck. "One question at a time, baby. Everything's alright, I promise."

He pulled back until he could cup her cheeks, pulling her lips to him and kissing her as if it were the last time. "I waited all night for you to call. I was so worried."

"I told you, we have to keep our distance. This is serious..." She looked away, almost guiltily.

"That doesn't make it any easier," he whispered, tucking her hair behind her ears. "How are the girls? I missed them."

"They're fine," she reassured, placing a hand atop his as he rubbed her belly. "They're getting so big now, they're running out of room to kick."

He kissed her forehead. "I love you so much, Em."

"I love you too. I'm sorry I left..."

"When you come home to me, you'll have to spend the rest of your life making it up to me." He paused then, adding in an almost frightened voice. "You will come back to me, right?"

"Who else would I come home to?" she asked, ignoring the real worry at hand.

"I can't lose any of you. I need my wife and the girls need their mommy."

"I know," she sighed, "We talked about this – I told you, it's for the best."

He shook his head. "I just want you back home with me, I want to know you're safe."

"I-I should go," she said in a wavering voice, "This is just making things harder."

"No," he urged desperately, holding her tightly, "Please, don't go. I'm sorry."

She turned her head away, struggling not to cry. "I can't come home with you – this will be easier if you just stay away."

"How am I supposed to stay away from my wife?" he asked, equally upset. "I know you can't come home with me, I want you to, but I'm not going to make you do that... I know you have your reasons, I just...I just missed you, baby."

"I know." She squeezed his hands, "I missed you too – do you really think I want to stay apart for the longest time since I've met you?"

"I know you don't," he sighed, staring down at their joined hands. "And I know you won't come home with me no matter what I say, but will you at least call me every night, so that I'll know you're safe?"

"I don't want him to get your number...if he somehow got my phone or hacked into it..." she rambled.

"Call my office. I'll be here all day, every day."

"No, Derek," she said sternly, "You can't live in your office. You need rest – baby, don't do this...go get a hotel. Or stay with Reid, don't be like Hotch..."

"Please," he begged, "I don't want to go back to an empty house."

She hated seeing him so obviously in pain, so close to tears. She deflated a little in defeat. "I-I'll try. I really should go now, people are going to get suspicious." He could do nothing but watch helplessly as she tried to subtly wipe away her tears, running to the washroom to cry away from prying eyes.

He watched Emily closely the entire case, the way he believed a husband should look after his wife, the way he wished he could be doing every minute of every day. He could tell that she wasn't really there with them as they worked – yes, she was physically there with them in the police station, but her mind was obviously elsewhere. And it didn't take a profiler to know that that place was wherever Doyle was.

While she may have promised him that she would tell him if something were to happen, if she heard any news about Doyle, he knew Emily Prentiss wasn't the kind of person who would readily admit she was in a situation she wasn't capable of handling all by herself.

He wanted to believe she trusted him completely, that she felt like she could go to him with whatever problem she was dealing with, especially if said problem involved a homicidal maniac bent on revenge...but the fact remained that she had a lot of trust issues – maybe even more than him – not to mention a rather checkered past. Maybe she just wanted to spare him, but that didn't make it any easier.

After that first morning when he'd held her in his arms, so relieved that he nearly wept, unwilling to let her go to the point that he doubted whether the jaws of life could even have pried them apart, she seemed to be avoiding him again.

But he wasn't about to content himself with the fact that he wasn't able to live every minute he had close to his wife. He tried talking to her, but she brushed him off every time. He tried calling her, texting her, but she ignored him. She insisted it was for the best...

"Can we at least meet for coffee?" he texted her desperately as they touched down in DC, "I want to see my daughters." It was a little under-handed to use the twins to blackmail her like that, but he just wanted to see her.

At length, she replied, "I'll wait for you at my desk."

His heart swelled. He nearly tripped over his own feet as he practically sprinted out of his office to reach his wife. Barely reaching the bullpen in one piece, he found Emily nowhere to be seen and he thought perhaps he'd fallen and concussed himself and was now lying unconscious on the floor of his office.

All the worst possibilities began playing through his mind. She wouldn't be foolish enough to go searching for Doyle, would she? Could Doyle have gotten to her in the middle of the FBI? Did the FBI even know that Doyle was a threat?

If anything had happened to her, he would never forgive himself. And he would never rest until he sent Doyle straight to hell, where he belonged.

He crossed the floor to tear her desk apart in search of something, anything that might give him some clue as to where she had gone.

But he didn't have to search very hard, as it turned out...because her cell phone was still sitting on her desk.

The little light that signaled a new message was still blinking on her phone. Normally, he tried to respect her privacy, but her safety definitely came first, she could be pissed at him later if she wanted.

"See you soon."

That was all it said. The number wasn't one her phone recognized and it was foreign to him as well. It had to be Doyle.

He was seriously starting to worry that she'd never have the chance to tell him not to read her texts…or anything else for that matter.

But if Emily could be stubborn and do what she thought was best despite pleas to the contrary, so could he. No one was going to take away his three girls and all the sleepless nights and arguments they would bring – hell, at this rate, he was even starting to appreciate the diaper changes he had to look forward to. No one was going to take them away.

Not even Doyle.