Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, Criminal Minds.

Angel

Part 1

By
N. J. Borba

Emily stood in the bathroom doorway looking into her bedroom. She remained there for a short time watching the man in her bed whose nose was stuck in a book. It was amusing, and sexy as hell, to see Derek Morgan's muscled bare chest peeking out from the bed sheets, his taught biceps flexed to hold the paperback copy of Vonnegut's Siren's of Titan. But even as attractive as she found his hunky versus nerdy qualities, Emily was a bit miffed that he hadn't looked up yet.

"Are you going to stand there all night?" he asked, eyes still glued to the book.

She wanted to be mad at him for taunting her like that, not looking her way, pretending to be much more interested in the book than he was in her. Emily was far from mad, though, but she still wanted to teach him a lesson. Casually, she moved away from the door and took a few slow steps toward the bed. Then she abandoned the reticent approach and jumped onto the bed, crawled toward him, straddled his hips and snatched the book out of his grasp.

He let out a whoosh of breath as she pounced on him, surprised by her playful mood. "What are you doing, crazy lady?" he grinned, hands resting against her thighs.

"Trying to get you to pay attention to me," Emily replied, tossing the book across the bed.

Derek laughed. "Baby, I've been paying attention. Don't you worry about that," he intoned softly, his hands sliding up and down her bare thighs. His eyes narrowed a little as he caught sight of her t-shirt attire. "Em, what school did you go to?"

"Excuse me?" she sat back a little, not impressed by his meager attempts at seduction. "I don't know what kind of foreplay you think I'm into, but the whole student and professor thing is kind of lame," Emily declared with a dismissive tone.

"I wasn't… damn, baby," Derek groaned, shifting himself beneath her. He had to admit that even hearing the word foreplay emit from her mouth turned him on. "I was actually just curious about the shirt you're wearing," he tugged on the hem of the dark purple t-shirt. "Because I'm pretty sure I'm the one who attended Northwestern," Morgan smiled. "And I've been wondering where this shirt ran off to," he added, amused to see it on her.

The two of them had been casually seeing one another for a few months, ever since an UnSub had decided to kill hundreds of homeless and destitute people in the hopes of improving science. For some reason that case had hit them both a bit hard and had struck up their casual agreement. Although, casual usually implied that the two people were seeing other people and left one another's home after sex, whereas the two of them had spent many nights together and always stayed still dawn. And each claimed to not be seeing other people.

But anything beyond the term casual was not uttered between them.

Her head dipped a little, dark hair brushing against his shoulder. "I like it," Emily spoke softly against his right ear. "It smells like you."

His smile widened. "I smell like me, too," Derek noted.

"Yes, you do," she agreed, kissing his earlobe and licking the sweet spot where his ear connected to his neck. "But sometimes you're not here," Emily said, rubbing her ample chest against his. "So, I wear the shirt and… think about you."

"Think, huh?" he asked with shaky breath as his hands roamed beneath the hem of her shirt. "That all?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," she teased. Words failed him, but he nodded as their kisses heated up. The loud buzz of a cell phone vibrating against a hard surface interrupted their union. Both heads turned toward Emily's phone which sat on the nearby nightstand. "Ignore it," she insisted, helping him draw the purple shirt up and over her head.

Faced with her completely naked body, Morgan did indeed ignore the phone. It went silent a moment later. Then another phone rang, her land line; a cordless phone which rested in a cradle on the same nightstand as her cell. Derek groaned, clearly annoyed by the interruptions, as she worked at his boxers. "It could be important," he whispered between the kisses they shared. "Maybe the team, maybe a case…"

"Damn it," Emily swore as she sat back and plucked the cordless from its spot. "Yes?" she answered rather abruptly. A sigh escaped as she looked away from Derek, eyes focused on the wall behind her bed. "This is a very bad time to talk about… no, John, I don't think… fine, tomorrow morning," her tone turned to agreement. "I'll see you there."

Morgan watched her hit the kill switch on the phone and drop it back into the cradle. "Everything okay?" he questioned.

A nod came in response. "Fine, just an old friend who needs… some help," her last few words were somewhat hesitant.

He'd heard the name John, and for some reason his mind had launched back several months to a case they'd worked involving a series of supposed exorcisms. John Cooley was the name of her friend they'd helped then. And, if he'd been thinking with anything other than the south pole of his anatomy, Derek might have been more concerned by her current phone call and resulting explanation. As it was, he snaked his arms about her waist, flipped her onto her back and quickly picked up where they'd left off.

xxx

Derek used the black plastic spatula to flip both eggs. Then he went to fetch the toast, buttered it, sliced it and fanned it out on two plates. Back at the stove he scooped up one egg and deposited it onto a plate. He was going about repeating the process when the phone rang. Derek finished the task and paused to listen, hearing the shower still running up on the second floor of Emily's place. He let the phone ring.

The message machine came to life; a pre-recorded electronic voice answered and informed the caller to leave their name and number. Morgan listened as a man's voice came on the machine. "Hi, Emily… it's me, I was just concerned about you. You said you'd meet me this morning for coffee, but you're not here. Call me back as soon as you can. Like I said last night this matter is time sensitive, and I'd rather not discuss it over the phone."

That was it, no good-bye, he just hung up. Derek frowned as he poured two mugs of coffee and sat them down on Emily's glass-topped table along with their eggs and toast. Cooking breakfast for Emily Prentiss was most definitely not a part of their casual relationship. But it had become a routine the last few days since they'd been lacking a case in the field. He knew it was dangerous getting so involved, but they'd been enjoying their time together outside of the sexual part of the relationship, which certainly didn't feel like a bad thing.

"Hey," Emily made her way down the stairs in a fluffy white and blue striped bathrobe, hair still wet and curled into a knot atop her head. "Coffee…" she slipped into the seat beside Derek and snatched up the mug of dark liquid steaming in front of her. She sniffed the welcome aroma and then sipped it.

"That's all I get, a: hey and coffee?" Derek grinned.

She smiled, too. "Sorry, mornings tend to leave me with a one-track coffee oriented mind," Emily shrugged, taking another drink of the warm brew.

"Well, I'd like to add a little something extra to your morning routine," he replied.

"I thought you already had," she alluded to the fact that he'd woken up aroused and they'd taken care of the problem in the shower.

Morgan leaned toward her and placed a soft kiss against her cheek. "I was referring to that," he said, indicating that his kiss was what he'd been talking about just now. "Not that I minded the part you mentioned," he added, face split with a pleased grin. It faded a second later. "There was a call for you while you were in the shower, I heard the message," Derek mentioned as they each dug into the eggs he'd made. "Sounded like that friend of yours, John Cooley?" he fished.

"Crap," Emily sat her toast down. "I said I'd meet him this morning. I forgot."

"He seemed worried about you," Derek went on, forkful of egg brought to his lips. He chewed the bite while noticing that Emily remained quiet. "He said something about a time sensitive issue. What's that all about?"

Emily shrugged. "Not sure. John and I are old friends," she realized he already knew that fact after the words escaped. "I think he's still holding on to the connection he, Matthew and I had as kids. Personally, I'd rather it all be swept under the rug. Matthew is gone now. I wish John could move on."

Derek's eyes narrowed as he digested the food and her words. He had a feeling there was more to it all than one friend not dealing with his grief. "Look," he put his fork down, ready to lay it all on the line. "If you're seeing other people, maybe John… we never really talked about it before, but that's your right and…"

"It's not that," she instantly replied, staring him in the eye. Her head shook and she abandoned her meal, even her coffee. "John and I were… we thought we were in love as teenagers. And maybe we were, as much as two teenagers can be," Emily revealed with a heavy heart. "But we were so young and then I got pregnant," she found the words came out fairly easy, but nonetheless heavyhearted. "John was scared. He told his parents and they moved away without another word. Matthew helped me take care of things," she stated.

His fork was used to push egg around the plate. Derek hadn't been expecting all of that explanation from her. "So, you two aren't trying to rekindle anything?"

"I'm not," Emily let him know. "But I think… maybe he might be," she admitted. "Which is why I keep avoiding him."

"So, you and I…" Morgan had no idea what he'd been planning to say. He didn't want to scare her off, but he also really didn't want their relationship to be casual any longer. "What are we doing here?" he finally asked.

She looked at the eggs and coffee, unable to hold his eye any longer. "We're having breakfast," Emily concluded.

xxx

The words were still clouding her thoughts several hours later as she sat at her desk filling out a report. "We're having breakfast." The level of lameness associated with that answer had been off the charts, and Emily knew Derek had felt stung by it. He hadn't said as much, but things after that had been subdued between them as they finished breakfast, dressed and left for work in their separate vehicles. She was getting really good at the art of tug-a-war when it came to anything in life.

She'd always flittered from one thing to the next, in school and in her personal relationships especially. Commitment might as well be a four letter word in her world, because it was just as offensive. Emily had known from an early age that she was not cut out to stick with one thing for a long period of time. It was likely a product of her environment, growing up in a multitude of countries, always having to pick up and start over. At the BAU she'd finally started to feel rooted, now she was likely to ruin that stability as well.

"Hi, Emily."

Her heard turned to the left and she spotted him standing beside her desk. His clothes looked even baggier than the last time she'd seen him. And his slightly balding hair was completely shaved. His eyes were sunken, and skin so pale you could practically see through it. "John," she finally greeted him, worry coursing through every vein in her body. It had been a long time since she'd felt love for the boy, but it reared its head now, although it was mostly concerned love. "What are you doing here?"

The man fingered his temporary security card, which dangled from a clip attached to his white button-up shirt. "I really need to talk to you, but you're avoiding me," he observed. "I hate bothering you at work, but it's important. Very. Can we talk?"

Emily glanced over to see Reid doing his best to appear that he wasn't overhearing their conversation. She glanced upward toward Hotch and Rossi's office windows. She could see them both hunched over desks. Finally she turned again and her eyes lit upon the empty conference room. "Up there," she motioned with her shoulder as she stood.

They walked together, past a few desks, up the stairs and into the BAU room. Emily closed the door. "I'm sorry to come here where you work," John began again.

A shrug raised her shoulders. "Just… tell me what's going on," Emily implored.

"I found her," he responded.

With furrowed brow she carefully pushed breath past her lips. Both arms folded across her chest. "Who? What are you talking about, John?" She was half-way worried that he was involved with drugs again the way they'd all experimented in their younger years. As far as she knew, only Matthew had kept that horrible practice up. But John's behavior was certainly suspect at the moment, and his appearance backed up the theory.

"Matthew told me everything before he died, Emily," the man delved into more explanation. "He told me what really happened with you and… the baby."

"I don't know what you mean," her head shook in outright denial.

John smiled softly. "You couldn't do it," he spoke just as soft. "I never thought you could, and you didn't. I'm just sorry you felt you had to lie to me about it. I know my parents were awful about everything, taking me away like that, but…" his head shook. "None of that matters right now. I found her, Emily. She lives in Baltimore, has all her life; right where you left her. I talked to her and we're meeting on Friday."

"No, you…" Emily felt a shiver course through her body.

"I know it must be a shock to you, but I had to find her," John continued. "I'm dying, Emily. I have liver cancer, stage four. There's nothing more that can really be done, so I wanted to meet her before…" he shrugged, leaving death out of the conversation, though in words only. "She's agreed to see me." John handed over a slip of folded paper. "This is where we'll be Friday. You're welcome to join us. I didn't tell her you'd be there for certain. I just said I'd try."

With that, he turned and left the conference room. And Emily stared blankly at the paper.

To be continued…