Author Note – Set after Omnivore. The first of two prequels to Blackbird. Since you all asked so nicely…and maybe because it gave me an excuse to look at pictures of Shemar Moore's bare chest (for research purposes, I promise). Let me know what you think.

Disclaimer – I don't own Criminal Minds or any of the characters.

Kiss It Better

"The decision to kiss for the first time is the most crucial in any love story. It changes the relationship of two people much more strongly than even the final surrender; because this kiss already has within it that surrender."

Emil Ludwig

Emily was rolling her tank down her stomach when she there was a knock at her door. Her hands paused in movement and her eyes darted to the closed door. She had been jumpy all night. Since she had been in the car, hearing the call about Morgan, watching as the EMT pulled the glass out of his back with tweezers.

"Who is it?"

"Morgan," her partner called through the door.

Her hands smoothed the fabric over her stomach, and she walked quickly to the door looking about her temporary accommodation. She reached for the latch on the door, glancing down at her attire, wishing she had thought to stop and put on a jumper.

"Come on Em, open the door," he prompted as her hand hovered over the handle.

Giving in to his demand Emily unlocked the door and pulled it open to see him looking frustrated, wearing sweats and a loose black muscle shirt, holding a tube of anti-septic cream in his hand.

"I can't reach," Morgan told her sheepishly waving the cream in the direction of his back. He didn't add the 'help me'. He didn't need to.

Emily opened the door wider and gestured for him to enter the motel room. From the cautious way he moved she could see he was still in shock. She was still in shock from seeing the gaping hole in the window he had been thrown through.

He was like her when it came to asking for help. It was rare and usually a last resort. Maybe that was why he came to her, because she wouldn't hold it against him. It touched her that he trusted her enough to show her his weakness. He paused at the foot of her bed and slowly turned his head to look at her over his shoulder.

"Sit," Emily said pointing at the bed.

He hesitated, glancing around the room again before complying with her demand. Her head cocked to the side and she wondered if it was just the attack which had him suddenly so nervous. He looked around the room again, avoiding her gaze and she took the chance to hide her smile from him. She wanted to make him forget the day; forget about the bullet the Reaper left for him, just for a little while. Maybe that was why he turned up at her door. To forget.

She moved to the side of the bed and tried not to laugh when he jumped as she put one knee on the mattress. It was strange to see Derek Morgan out of sorts; his anxiety endearing him to her. She wanted to take it all away, comfort him.

His confidence had been shaken and she wanted to give back to him. The Reaper had the chance to kill him, but instead decided to mess with his brain, to watch Morgan torture himself. There was part of Emily that was grateful the Reaper was a sadistic son of a bitch who got off on watching his victims looking over their shoulder.

It meant Morgan was still alive and with the team. They wouldn't be burying one of their own. They would stop him together, they could protect each other. They could have lost him today and it would have devastated them. It could have made them lose focus and sloppy.

Rather than focusing on the possible outcome of the day, Emily focused on the fact that he was there in front of her asking for her help. She shuffled on her knees to kneel behind him. He still wore his shirt and the cream was beside him on the bed.

Her eyes travelled over the back of his shirt and his exposed shoulders and arms, examining the tattoos she saw peeking out from beneath the fabric. He was too tense, weary. She didn't blame him; she would be too if the same thing happened to her. But she wanted the confident Derek Morgan back because this hollow shell was unsettling.

Emily touched his shoulders gently, taking hold of him more firmly when he jumped. She leant down behind him to whisper into his ear playfully. "You need to take your shirt off Morgan."

He seemed to sag in relief at the teasing lilt in her voice. She let out a small chuckle when Morgan looked over his shoulder smiling self-consciously at her as he reached for the hem of his shirt. Although she would never admit it out loud there were times when she indulgently allowed herself to admire his body.

She saw the twitch in his arm when he lifted his arms and his back contracted. Emily moved backwards to avoid being hit by the material as he brought it up over his head.

Emily paused as she saw the fresh cuts on his back. Some of them were still seeping, most probably from where he had just disturbed them, and she wondered if he knew or if he was ignoring it. They must have been irritating him every time he moved, reopening the ones which had begun to heal. She wordlessly retreated off the bed and she could feel his gaze following her.

"What are you doing?"

"You're bleeding," Emily explained as she pulled the string to turn the bathroom light on. She opened her toiletry bag and pulled out the cotton wool pads. She grabbed her spare towel and returned to her previous position on the bed. Emily reached behind her for the unopened bottle of water on the nightstand and tipped some onto a pad.

Turning to Morgan she found him looking over his shoulder at her. She flashed him a smile and nodded for him to face forward again. Emily moved closer to him, leaving only a small gap between her knees and his hips. She rose above him. Concentrating on the slithers of blood she ran the wet cotton wool over his skin, cleaning the wounds, wiping away the blood.

"It's not your fault," Emily told him softly, knowing he wouldn't believe her.

Morgan sighed. "Tell me that tomorrow Emily."

"We'll find him," she insisted. This time he didn't answer.

Once she was satisfied the cuts were clean, she wiped her towel over him to dry his skin.

"Now for the cream," she said as she put the towel behind her on the bed. She held her arm rested on his shoulder and held out her palm expectantly for the tube. He put it her hand without looking at her. She unscrewed the cap and squeezed some onto her fingertips.

"Hey," he twitched under her hands when the cream came into contact with an open cut.

"Stop being a baby," she muttered as she smoothed her hands over his skin.

"Your bedside manner needs work," he replied.

She poked a finger in to his shoulder, smirking when he jolted. "Did you want me to kiss it better?" There was a pause and Emily quirked an eyebrow. "If you wanted a better bedside manner you could have gone next door to Dr Reid," she said covering her ill placed joke.

"He's not a medical doctor," Morgan replied.

"I'm sure he knows more about it than I do."

"Probably."

Her hands continued to move over his skin, the cream long since rubbed in, trying to relax and soothe him. The tension seeped out of his body, and he shifted back. Closer. Surer. Electricity singed the air around them. And suddenly she was the nervous one. She needed a distraction.

Her hand brushed his right arm and she saw the lion. She smiled fondly. It suited him. Strong and loyal. A leader. Detailed and intricate. At the core that's who Morgan was. He knew that. And today that was ripped away from him.

"How did you sit still long enough for the lion to be done?"

A deep chuckle escaped him, his body shaking under her touch and his head bobbed. "I can sit still, you know."

"You're a fidget."

"And you're not?"

Emily pursed her lips at his retort, but didn't deny his accusation. Neither of them did well at sitting still. They liked being active, out in the field, doing something. Paperwork was tiresome and they easily distracted the other. It was one of the things which caused them to bond when they started working together. All one of them would have to do was sit back and flash a sly smile at the other, and the banter would begin to flow. More often than not ending in the torment of Reid. Or when Hotch stoically reminded them of the paperwork deadline.

"How many sessions did it take?"

"A couple," Morgan replied.

Emily's hands stopped moving and rested on his warm skin. She studied the lion again marvelling at the design.

"What about you?" Morgan asked, cutting through her thoughts.

"Huh?"

"Like the former wild child herself doesn't have any ink on her skin," he said as he shot her cheeky grin over his shoulder.

Emily felt her heart swell at his newly found joyful attitude. She rewarded him with natural smile, pleased by bringing him out of his depression, even for a little while. "I have two," she admitted. Morgan's brow rose, silently asking her for more detail. "A butterfly on my ankle, and the Delphinus constellation on my shoulder blade," she explained.

"Delphinus?" Morgan questioned.

"My grandfathers' favourite constellation," she replied. "But neither of them is as detailed as the lion." Morgan's expression softened and he nodded knowingly. "It suits you." The tension rose and Emily squeezed his flesh lightly and nodded for him turn to face forward again. Her hands resumed their gentle stroking of his skin.

Morgan could have died today. He wouldn't have been here now, and she would have been consoling the loss of a friend. Someone who understood her. Her partner.

One bullet. One unfired bullet. That's all it took.

They couldn't, wouldn't surrender to the taunt the Reaper issued today. He wanted his torment to rip the team apart from the inside out. They couldn't let that happen. Emily wouldn't let it.

She wasn't sure what compelled her to do it. Or if she was doing it more for herself than Morgan when she leant down and placed a soft kiss where his neck met his shoulder. His whole body stiffened. Emily sat up but she still hovered close to him.

"What are you doing?" He asked looking over his shoulder at her. He wasn't telling her to stop or pulling away. He knew she needed this as much as he did.

"Kissing it better."