I stumbled across this little story on my ipad... had no idea it was there. I wrote as a result of a prompt given to me a long time ago. I'll tell you what the prompt was at the end. Hope you like.

His heart beat hard. Painfully. He could feel his clammy hands were gripping Garcia's smaller hand way too tight, but he was sure she couldn't feel it. She had been numb since that day in the hospital waiting room.

He squeezed his eyes tight to stop the tears and his eyelids stung, so he opened them up again and stared at the coffin. The beautiful ornate box. Her final resting place... but it couldn't be her final resting place. It shouldn't be. She deserved more than that. And it was at that point he decided to have the internal debate about life after death. He had watched the life pour out of her on the warehouse floor. He had seen the light in her eyes dim as she accepted her fate, but he couldn't believe that her being, her soul had just disappeared.

He looked up to the clear blue sky. It looked so peaceful. Birds glided above them as if it were a normal day and he said a silent prayer. He asked God to one day reunite him with her. He just wanted to see her face again. To hear her voice. To touch her skin. He made a deal with God that he would try to be a good man for the rest of his life, how ever long that would be, so that at the end, he would be taken to where ever she was.

Later that day, after the wake, he walked up the pathway to his home. He dreaded this moment every day yet it was all he wanted every day... To go home and shut the door behind him. Shut the rest of the world out so he could grieve for her... Cry for her. He just wanted to cry and cry. The pain somehow felt right. It somehow made him feel a little better. May be because that should how it should always be for him. How could he have a world without her and not cry?

He walked into his dark living room and sat in the middle of his sofa. As he leant back against the soft leather, he felt a vibration on his thigh. Pulling out his cell, the screen read that he had an answer phone message and one missed call.

He placed the cell to his ear. The voice at the end, "You have one new message and one stored message'

He frowned, having no recollection of saving any message. He thumbed the cell

'First new message'

'Hey baby." His mother's tone sad and soft, "I know you're not ok today, but I just wanted to let you know I'm thinking of you." She paused, "We're all thinking of you. Please just let me know you got through the day ok. I love you. Call me baby."

He let the automated voice run until it gave him the option to listen to the stored message. He pressed number one on the keypad. The automated voice told him the message had been left nearly six weeks ago.

As the message began, there was no voice though, just muffled white noise. He frowned in frustration and was about to cut the call, but all of a sudden he froze.

"Shit!" He heard.

He knew straight away. Her voice. He had heard that 'shit' a thousand times before when she clumsily dropped something. Or when Reid beat her a poker. Or when he himself managed to score higher at the shooting range or get her in a ground pin in personal training. But why was it on his answerphone?

He carried on listening, expecting the call to end, but instead there was just background noise. It sounded as if she were walking as the noises changed, different voices getting louder then quieter, disappearing, just for another blend to appear, until it was completely silent.

He looked at the screen, but the call was still running. He put it to his ear again.

"Morgan?" Emily's voice said as if expecting a response, one of course she knew would never come.

"I just wanted to talk about our little disagreement earlier."

He scrunched his face up having no idea what disagreement she was talking about. He got angry with himself as he could not remember. Then he got angry that he couldn't pause the message. He wanted to remember, but her words continued,

"Ok, so I just wanted to say... I mean... Well. Ok, I'm a bit drunk and I'm a coward for not saying this to your face, but if eight." A beat passed, "Ok, may be nine or ten martinis is what it takes to say this, then so beit." She cleared her throat, "Ok. So you were right and I was wrong. Well kinda wrong. But anyway, I was just being stubborn, but you were right, and thanks by the way for not labouring it, because I know you knew you were right and you just shut up and didn't go on about it. Why do you do that with me sometimes?" She said. The question appeared for him, but he could tell by her tone, she was actually asking herself.

"I know why you do that Morgan."

His eyes widened, wondering what on earth she was going to say, and then she continued, her tone much softer, "You do that because you're a good guy." She chuckled lightly, "I told you that before didn't I? But that was years ago and truth was I didn't really know you that well back then, but you know what? I have a damn good sense of judgement, because you are a good guy. One of the best I've known. No. Actually the best and I'm not just saying that because I'm talking to you." She paused and he heard a small hiccup bringing the faintest of smiles to his lips, "I'm saying it because I've never known anyone like you who can make me feel this way. I trust you. I trust you with anything. I know that what ever happens, you'll have my back and I can count on you and no one's ever made me feel that way. And another thing..." She paused again, "I can tell you I've never said this to anyone before. No one's ever made me wanna say this stuff before. God damn you Derek Morgan!" She chuckled.

He smiled. He could just imagine her laughing at herself, a little flustered and a little frustrated with herself. How he loved the Emily Prentiss who could laugh inspite of herself.

"Well, I guess I'm saying it because I'm drunk right?"

He then heard her sigh and there was silence again for a couple of seconds. He willed her to carry on. Even if she said what she'd just said was a mistake. He didn't care. He just wanted to hear her voice... again.

And then he did, but it was quieter this time, and there was no background noise. She must have found a quiet spot to sit down as it didn't sound like she was walking any longer.

"Derek... Why do you think I have to be drunk to say this to you? What does that say about me? I should just be able to say it right?"

He could hear the sadness in her voice and he just wanted to jump into the god damn phone and hold her.

He listened intently. The only sound now was her soft breaths. He closed his eyes and imagined feeling those breaths on his skin.

She sighed again, "Well. I guess that's just me." She said feigning some sort of sureness in her voice. He could just imagine her shaking her head and telling herself silently to get a grip.

"But listen Derek. Whatever I say to you tomorrow, or the day after, or next week, or," She paused and he guessed she was pondering on what to say next, "... well, for the rest of my life, because, yes Derek, you are stuck with me for the rest of my life. I mean everything I just said to you. Ok? Whatever I say to you in the future, just remember this."

He heard a car horn sound in the background.

"Ooh." She then said, "That's my cab. I guess I better go. I'll see you tomorrow Derek and if you do get this tonight, sweet dreams... I lo..."

His eyes widened, "Oh... no buddy," She nervously chuckled, "That's gonna have to wait till another time... When I have the guts to say it to your face. Bye Derek."

As the automated voice replaced hers, he exhaled heavily, realising he had barely breathed for the duration of the message. His hands were shaking as his fingers tried desperately to press the number two on the screen to repeat the message.

And for the next seven months he listened to that message religiously before he went to bed, praying that it would mean he would see her in his dreams... and it sometimes worked.

Until one day, his dreams really did come true and he held her in his arms for real, shaken, broken, yet the happiest man alive.

I know it was just a short one & I probably could have done more with it, but I hope you liked it anyway... this was the prompt. It's not exactly to the prompt... but hey ;)

After Emily's funeral, Morgan finds a voicemail from her and finds it's a pocket dial. He gets angry and starts cursing God, only to hear something meaningful after she realizes she's been calling him for like five minutes. He listens to it religiously for the next 7 months.