A/N: Wow! Thank you all so much. I really wasn't sure how well this would do. For that, I have a present for you :)

Disclaimer: *See chapter 1*


When she was sure Derek was completely out of earshot and sight, Emily found her place on the cell cot wringing her hands impatiently. Taking a handful of "deep cleansing breaths", she swallowed hard. She'd already been given enough of a free pass. They didn't need to know that the four walls she was sure would grow faces if she wasn't careful were slowly caving in on her. With a throat as thick as sandpaper, she fought to keep her own eyes tightly shut. If she didn't see anything, she'd be fine. That's how it usually worked. But with all the information thrown at her moments before, there was no way in hell she'd be able to keep her centre. Sure it worked for some people but meditation didn't do a lot for a person who had to sleep with one eye open just to make sure her bed wasn't ripped out from under her ass.

She knew she wasn't the only one to live so recklessly. There were dozens of people on her own stretch of sidewalk who were at it so long they couldn't even remember what decent living was like. But reckless wasn't exactly optional and anyone with half a brain would know that. Being locked away in a cell should be able to lift her spirits at least slightly. Instead it only served as a quiet frustration. Not that she was angry anymore. Any hint of it quickly deflated by the time the cell was closed. Still she found herself digging for any hint of the feeling that might still be lingering in small quantities.

Emily needed a focal point, a feeling that overpowered the sudden loss of air in the room. If she didn't redirect her energy soon, she would probably be giving her cellmates some late night pay per view. After that it would be off to the hospital while they shoved an oxygen mask over her face and stick her with fuck knows what else. Always a quick fix so it wasn't like she was staging her escape. Guards would have her back in here by morning at the latest. But it wasn't going to solve the problem. She'd just come back smelling like ozone or whatever it was they put in purified oxygen. And to think she had two nights after this one.

Taking a deep breath, she groaned. The careful snap of tense muscles reminded her just how long they'd been sitting in that room. Cringing slightly when they sounded in succession, she forced herself to close her eyes. Maybe if she kept herself in some kind of sleep-like darkness until the feeling actually came she might have a chance. If she let herself believe they never left interrogation (which was one of the only places the walls didn't actually come in on her), she might be able to avoid the ER.

Hell on everyone else, hospital emergency felt like some kind of fantasy just barely out of reach. There was no doubt she was supposed to hate it. That was the feeling for most everyone, no matter how rich or poor you were. She had an even stronger feeling that once she knew what it was like, there was no way she'd go back there. For now, it was cool enough to dream. For just a few minutes she was like every other kid in America. For just a split second her mother wasn't a super combination of every member on hospital staff just to save a few dollars. The smell of antiseptic was fleeting (she knew the smell from the few bottles she swiped from a clinic for her druggie friends). Just as quickly as it had come it was gone forcing her to blink. Don't look... she thought. Avoiding the wall, her head shot up toward the bars. Pretty sure she'd imagined it; she quietly welcomed Officer Morgan's booming voice.

At least in the silence, unwatched she allowed herself the briefest smile. Of course he sounded ready to yell at her. Emily couldn't remember a time where they dared to have some kind of decent conversation. Tonight would be the first and probably last of those. No eye rolls this time. A distraction she would take willingly. The guy didn't have to know the annoying hum of his voice in the back of her head was keeping her from guaranteed hyperventilation. Not sure why she couldn't make anything out clearly, she let the hum of his presence be enough to keep her head from spinning. What he had to say was likely something she'd heard a billion times anyway. Just to have another person there, real or otherwise, might help her sleep. If it didn't, well at the very least she wasn't alone.

Shit, now she sounded like a nut job. Maybe she really did spend too much time in the slums. Half the people she knew were well on their way to some kind of psychotic break if they hadn't already had one. If this was hers, at least she took comfort in the fact that she'd be having it privately. If she managed to make it through the night like a normal person, even better. Laying down with a heavy sigh, Emily took in the eerie silence that followed, a subtle chill dancing down her spine that kept her even more awake than she already was after their little exchange from earlier. No surrounding voices to help her keep her head.

"Alright I lied," she muttered. It certainly wasn't the first and it certainly wouldn't be the last time she did. If it was really this calm, the quiet was bound to make her want to scream in no time. Then she'd really look like a crazy. Not a far reach considering where she "lived". Sanity had its own expiration date and if she wasn't careful hers would come tonight or in the few days ahead. Did they really expect anybody to keep their shit together in this place? She then realized that this was likely the whole point of the exercise. Claustrophobic or not, this was home for the next little while. Hopefully life was kind enough to let her look half decent when Derek showed up again in the next few hours. Not even sure what time it was, generalizing the passage of time helped at least a little.


"Prentiss!" The sound of her name shot her straight up, forcing her to blink several times to readjust her eyes and try for a steady breath. She wasn't even sure why she turned to see who it was. Only one person in this place cared to acknowledge her. It also helped that he was kind of her babysitter. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she slung her arms through the bars while trying to contain a yawn.

"Sir?" Morgan raised a brow, surprised the word fell from her mouth. Noticing his expression Emily rolled her lip trying to figure out how the word fell out. Unless it was a deeply buried memory, she'd never once said that to anyone. Clearing his own throat, Derek nodded, his gaze directed at the tray he carried.

"Not exactly IHop but you can down this with a clear conscience." Emily just rolled her eyes making sure her stance showed her thanks while she backed away enough for the door slide open. "The chief made some calls. You got a hearing in a couple of days. You'll represented by Erin Strauss. She's reviewing your case now." Biting the inside of her cheek, she had to wonder who would be stupid enough to take on her rap sheet. "This woman ain't the tooth fairy, Prentiss. Rossi's lucky she even picked up the phone for something like this."

"Did he pay in sexual favours?" she mumbled. Morgan just narrowed his eyes, his gaze shutting down any further comment. "Yeah, yeah, I'm lucky she gives a shit." As easily as it came out, the fact that the woman was willing to try for her should be enough. Sleep hadn't come easy so naturally she was up considering every single fuck up she'd ever been a part of. Thinking long and hard, that list was more than a little bit long. How in the world did she have a chance at freedom anyway? Emily hadn't exactly done anything commendable in her "free time". She wasn't getting off on good behaviour. "I'm hoping for a miracle, aren't I?"

"Well...this is technically your first real...'offense'," he pointed out. They both knew that was a good lie, even if there was a fraction of truth to it. "Strauss is one of the best we've got. She's famous for some pretty good hardball."

"Well that's great but...how does she plan to sway twelve angry people to cry for a homeless chick?" Derek just shook his head trying to answer that question for himself. If the city had any hope of putting an end to these otherwise useless arrests, this seemed to be the only thing that might work. Emily snorted despite herself. "See, not even you know how this is gonna work. Thanks for trying though."

"This hasn't even started, Prentiss. I'm the cop, not the attorney. I don't know the specifics. But I do know she's one of Chicago's best. Even if she looks like she doesn't wanna be there, which I bet just about anything she will, she's the only one standing between you and some kind of freedom."

"Yeah but not before I throw three years of my life into slave labour," she muttered. There it was. Her typical sarcasm that hardened her to something unbearable. The sad part was, Derek was pretty sure she had to stop trying for the attitude too long ago.

"You wanna talk slave labour, I'll really hook you up," he muttered. She unconsciously sent her eyes to the back of her head and sighed.

"I guess this is one of those 'I should be grateful' moments, huh?" The woman expected him to nod but instead he barely shrugged.

"It's not always about being grateful but when people are given chances like this, they don't piss on it and make it worse for themselves." She said nothing to that knowing that he was right to some degree. As many times as she'd gone over it in her head, she still couldn't shake the idea that there was something wrong with this plan. Criminals hardly did anything to deserve any of this. And even those who busted their asses trying to make it better for themselves hardly got anything remotely similar. Maybe part of it was that so far as she knew, nobody was stupid enough to pull this trick out of the book.

"So what is it? I'm supposed to dance for you now?" she laughed. "Show you a good time for trying to pull a rabbit's foot outta your ass?"

"What?" he whispered, brows knit in utter confusion.

"Forget it," she mumbled. No matter how many years he'd been working to get here, any variation of those words made him sick. And that said a lot when he thought about all the shit he'd seen after just three years on the force. Her words struck him with a clarity that nearly knocked him off balance. All these years of hearing about all of the things Emily had done, the countless nights he'd put her in holding. How did he never make the connection? Though he didn't say as much out loud, he was pretty sure she'd just found herself some kind of weak spot to stand trial.

Sure the first time had been a bit of a joke, just something to get under the guy's skin. But something about saying it a second time allowed her to add another layer to walls that were already painfully thick. For a minute, she thought it would be easier to just brush it off, pretend somebody else had said it. No matter how often the words formed in her mouth she always let them feel foreign anyway. Pinning it on somebody else would be easy. Too easy. They weren't the ones subconsciously wringing their hands and clawing invisible dirt from their skin. That was her. Emily's hands scratched Emily's skin. Emily's mouth had shaped the words that made her wish they would let her shower for a good two hours before she felt even remotely clean. She didn't even realize how automatic the reaction was until she felt a callused hand on her arm. Even if she refused to meet his eyes, his momentary touch was enough to layer her mouth with sandpaper again. This place was so quiet she could literally hear herself breathing. Or at least trying to. Emily wasn't even sure how she was doing in that respect until she caught a second pair of shoes out of the corner of her eye while they stayed trained on the concrete floor, the sight of them somehow bringing her breaths out faster than they already were and incomplete.

Too focused on keeping herself standing, she wasn't even aware she was being walked back over to her cot until she was forced to sit down. She let her head fall between her knees while she hugged them tightly trying to find a spot on the concrete to draw her focus. Whoever was in here with her had to go. They had to go now. Nobody had to be a part of this. These were the reason she made sure to stay tucked in an isolated corner when these things took over. As loudly as she wanted to scream, beg to be left alone, her cracked lips refused to form the words.

"Shh...Save it," Derek whispered. Save what? The guy had to leave. Didn't he get that? This was hers to do in private. And here he was trying to be helpful. Didn't he know when to stop? Emily could feel her lungs struggle to fill with a big breath of air while simultaneously asking her body for permission to scream. Inhaling sharply she readied herself. After trying and failing for three minutes to at least lift her head, she allowed herself a growl of frustration, glad that he couldn't see the tears of anger that followed. "S'okay. Just stay low." Yeah I know. I've fucking done this shit before. Instead she fought a quiet whimper as it tumbled from her mouth hoping to anything she could think of that he didn't comment on it.

"I...I can't," she rasped pathetically hating herself even more for it. "Hurts..." The single word came on a staggered wind that seemed to shrink her down even further.

"I know. Nice and slow..." As much as she wanted to punch the man's lights out for not listening to her, she barely complied. "That's it...Good." Once she was at least relatively steady, the officer brought himself back to his own thoughts. He was walking through a panic attack. The fact that it wasn't his own was a nice change of pace. He had to wonder though what triggered the reaction in the first place. Was it something he said? Something she'd said? A memory? "Look at me," he murmured. The narrowed eyes he found when she did were a slight comfort. "What'd you see?"

"Nothing," she snapped. "It was nothing. I got asthma or something. Acts up every once in a while. You just happened to walk in on it." Emily went stiff when she saw him shake his head, quietly glancing down at her flushed hands. As soon as she saw them, instinct tore them away. But not before letting herself have a moment to reflect on how genuine his touch seemed to be, even if it lasted only a second before she came to hate it again.

"Alright," he nodded silently backing away. "M'sorry," he muttered. "Just didn't want you on the floor." It was then that she remembered that Derek made himself responsible for her. Her freak out was bound to make him look bad. Of course he'd cover it up with what looked like a good gesture.

"Right...I forgot," she laughed. "Can't have me pulling my hair out. They'd send me to solitary." Just the thought of that place made her blood run cold. "You'd be done chasing bad guys and life as you know it, goes to shit." Morgan contemplated for a minute how he would even bring it up in a way that would get her to hear him.

"If you wanna end up dead in here, be my guest." There. Something biting since it seemed to be the only way she spoke to anyone. "Just let me know when not to show up. I'll ask them to throw you in a body bag and you'll be good to go." Even if she knew he wasn't serious, the thought of just how small the bag was unsettled her. Yes she'd be dead but that wasn't even the point.

"And lose out on getting to make your life hell? I don't think so." Giving a slight bob of his head, he inched himself to his original position. "Too much fun."

"Oh I'm sure," he said under his breath. The reply earned him a slight smirk. "What did you see, Emily?"

"I told you it was nothing. Just leave it alone, Derek. You've done enough."

"If I walk out now, I'll just be back in three hours to ask you again."

"You're not my therapist," she muttered. "It's none of your business anyway." Standing over her, his hands rested on his hips while he quietly stared her down. "Fuck off, Officer Morgan."

"Anything that happens in here to you is my business, Prentiss. Whether it helps your case or helps you while you're in here it is my business."

"Why? 'Cause you're 'in charge of me'?"

"If you ever shut your mouth long enough to listen to anything else but the sound of your own voice, maybe you'd have figured out by now that I show up to look in on you. I stuck around to make sure you didn't go giving yourself a concussion if you passed out over there. I'm asking you what I'm asking you 'cause I guess I give a damn about whatever it is you have to say."

"Well that's a first..." she whispered. Words that strangely enough were not necessarily directed at the officer specifically but his entire gang of losers.

"I'll ask you again. What was it?" She had to wonder if the distance he put between them was intentional. Not to mention the touching. Even if he'd only done it a handful of times since they'd met. His momentary brushes were meant to deliver some kind of message. A stupid message in her book but whatever. The morning was already such a whirlwind that she didn't even say anything to the fact that his hands were settled on her knees as a gesture of patience she'd only ever seen in him.

"I said something stupid," she said with a simple shrug. "Sometimes I remember stuff and it makes me feel weird. That's it." Weird like panic attack weird but so what? It wasn't like she'd never had them before. The nod she saw made her scoff. What gave him the right to act as if he had a clue what it is she dealt with? "Don't pretend like you get it," she muttered. The thing about it was that he wished he had no clue. But he stayed silent; letting the quiet hang over them if she let herself say anything more. Ten minutes came and went before he saw even a shadow of communication in her eyes. "It's dark," she whispered. "Real dark. And cold...Always cold. I...I don't know. I guess I'm just not used to any of this. A real bed. Not having to look over my shoulder. Not something I'm used to. My body just..."

"It's okay," he mumbled. No. It wasn't okay. Part of Emily knew that no matter how good anything was, nothing was ever just...okay. Something or someone always hung back in the shadows ready to take from you. Letting her eyes dart momentarily, she noticed him watching her closely. "Prentiss it's alright. It's just us in here, okay?" She felt herself nod robotically daring to study his much larger hands.

Part of her expected him to rip them away like she had done to him. Another wanted to ask him why the hell he was touching her and demanded that he stop. But something about their quiet would let her question even more later. Because an even bigger part hoped he would keep them there. That same piece of her was digging for the words to make him stay just a little bit longer. Because no matter how she looked to him, she was relatively fine now. His only duty was to make sure she ate. She figured he wasn't doing so well with that because until she let herself think about it, food wasn't even a flash of a memory.

"What?" she muttered sharply. The slight smile he always gave her made him so unreadable. The look could mean so many different things there was no point in guessing anymore. It was then that she heard it, the sound making her want to punch herself in the face, now red with a flush so rare that the warmth it brought her face left her confused.

"There's a tray over there with your name on it." While she stood to collect it, Derek watched her carefully; unsure of just how much of her own balance had come back. When she returned taking her spot on the bed once more, the officer stood. "Can I get you anything?" You can get gone she thought. For him, she quietly shook her head, keeping to herself what she really wanted to ask him. "Alright. I'll be back in a couple of hours." Emily just rolled her eyes.

"Are you really that bored? Did the bad guys take the day off?" Morgan studied her carefully. Was she really that much of a solo act? Just because he was an officer who normally put the fear of God in people like her, it seemed expected that he did the same to her.

"We're people too, you know," he whispered. Emily blinked. Of course she knew that. But people had enough sense not to care. And maybe she was stressing that like a broken record but it still didn't make any sense. She was supposed to hate everything he stood for. Crime fighter or not, she was a contagious disease. And here they both were trying to be people. The opposite sides of the spectrum almost made the situation forbidden.

"No..." she mumbled. "People have jobs. People pay for the food they eat. People do all of that in the houses they can afford to pay for. I get what you're trying to do, Derek but that doesn't change what this is...what I am."

"What are you, Prentiss?" Closing her eyes, she shook her head. Lost...Confused as hell...Scared. She hated herself for admitting the last one. She wasn't supposed to be scared. Scared didn't get her anywhere. She didn't have to open her mouth for him to see the flutter of emotion that came across her face. When he noticed her mouth had stayed a firm line, he let his own soften. "What are you, Emily?" He could feel the air around them tighten. If the girl wasn't tense already, his word choice surly did it. Quietly reaching into his holster, he let his gun slide quietly across the floor out of reach. Sending his taser in the same direction, he found a spot opposite her on the cot. "They're gone," he mumbled. "Now I'm just Derek, alright? Whatever comes out here, it's just you and me." Emily swallowed, refusing to make eye contact.

"Cancer..." she whispered. For a moment he wondered if that was how she'd lost her mother. He was quickly corrected with the look of disgust that washed over her. From their many conversations, the two were never exactly buddy, buddy. She didn't look close to crying either. "A disease...They're afraid of me. You know a lot of us make stupid signs. A few of us actually know how to play some music. Those are the ones who actually get anything out of it. They just look like street performers, it's okay to give 'em your extra dollar. But when you can't shower...When you put yourself in clothes that doesn't fit you right anymore 'cause you have nothing else, you're contagious. And the worst part is, it's not the kids that laugh at you, it's their parents. A kid actually tried to give me his bag of chips one time but his mom intercepted. 'We don't feed her, honey.' He actually had the guts to ask her why. 'I don't want you to get sick'. He didn't say anything else after that and just nodded. I...I didn't expect him to come back but he did. When I looked up, I saw that she had her back turned. He actually opened the bag for me, gave me the whole thing. 'I can ask Mom for another one'. I'm sure he was about eight or something. Before he ran to catch up to her he whispered it to me. "Mommy said you can't get it two times' and he smiled. It took me a minute to figure it out. I guess he's never had anything worse than chicken pox. And yeah, I'm pretty sure she still tells him shit but...for like five seconds..."

"...you were just like him," he said softly. She nodded blinking back tears. He carefully slid in closer to her, his hand coming over hers. Derek could feel his stomach give as he replayed her story in his head. Concerned parent or not, she might as well be an itch that can be scratched and ignored. "Sweetheart, look at me," he murmured. He watched her wince as her head shot up, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. "There is nothing wrong with you, alright? Nothing." He heard a choked laugh through her tears.

"Of course there is," she whispered. "Why else am I in here? Or out there? I'm not like you, Morgan. You chose to be a cop. I didn't chose to not have somewhere to live. That's just how it is. I'm a cancer. For that kid, for the city...for you. I'm nothing. Of course you wanna get rid of me."

"Nobody said anything about getting rid of you."

"Isn't that what this is about? Making sure you don't have to come get me anymore?" He froze. He couldn't deny he'd said something like that before. But it seemed that she saw it as something completely different.

"I didn't mean it like that." Emily scoffed shaking his hand off, but not before letting herself be thankful for how warm it was. "Prentiss, where do you get your running water? What's the one thing we almost always talk about when you get here? You sit in that chair like it's the best thing you've seen all week. If I didn't yell it at you every few minutes, I'm pretty sure you'd fall asleep sitting up. Because you don't sleep. The circles under your eyes are so dark it looks like somebody put your lights out."

"Stop pretending like you know me," she muttered angrily. As defensive as she was to every assumption he ever made of her, there was always some truth to them and she hated him for that. "If I sleep, I get stabbed," she growled. "Or jacked. Sometimes both. I don't avoid sleep because I have to. I shove toothpicks in my damn eyes because as shitty as it is, I prefer living."

"And that's exactly my point. We're not doin' this 'cause I'm sick of you," he whispered. "Three years and not once has your story changed. Three years and it's always for the same reason. We're trying for this because we're both tired. Not necessarily of each other but the reason we keep meeting like this. And it's something we can fix," he added softly. "You never killed anybody. We don't pick you up for drugs. You never took more than you need. And it's always well under twenty dollars. We can talk smack about these streets for the next two hours. But people around here know. They get it. You're going to find that kid's mother in almost anyone that walks past you. But why do you think managers never said anything until now? Why do you think we just get the call to come get you and nothing else happens? You're better than all of this, Emily. You tell me that you're not the only one who does what she does to survive but I don't think that's it. We're not always there to find you. We've brought in a few of your friends a dozen times. Cortez is high as a kite almost every time. Johnson's track marks have track marks. They've been at it so long that they just accept it. If that was you, I'd have you in this cell for crack. But I don't. You're in here for trying to make it out of there alive. And you know how I know? It's more than being sober. You don't rob 'em blind." In the silence that followed, he heard her sniffle quietly.

"Stop doing that..."

"What am I doing?" he mumbled. She inhaled while trying to find a spot on the wall to keep her gaze. Anything to avoid actually looking at him because she knew that if she did, his words were going to make her no more than a puddle of stupid tears.

"I sound like a person...You...You always make me sound like a person..."

"Because that's what you are. We're all just people. No matter what anybody's in here for, they're just people. I'm not a cop. I'm a person who chose to be a cop. It doesn't sound like there's a difference in that but it's there. There are some guys who live and breathe what they do. I think you've figured out by now that I'm not like that. I go home every day and watch stupid reruns with my dog. Sometimes when the day's really been shit, my friend comes by and we just watch movies for a while."

"That's nice..." Emily couldn't remember the last time she'd seen one of those. Derek let the silence fall between the again hoping she had a little bit more to offer. This was the first time in years he'd been able to bring up something that wasn't crime related. "Don't you have somewhere to be?" The words were nowhere near as harsh as they usually were. This question came out as a courtesy to the rest of his job.

"Not for a while yet." Even if that wasn't entirely true, he wasn't all that ready to leave her after what he walked in on not too long ago.

"Derek, I'm fine," she mumbled. "You can't be here every time I freak myself out over something. In fact, I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to be here at all. You've already broken enough rules because of me."

"Prentiss, I broke more rules than you think before you came along. Pretty sure I'll be breaking them after you too." He smiled when she gave him the slightest quirk of her lip.

"And here you are telling the world how good and wholesome you are. You better hope somebody doesn't give me a reason to tell them the truth." Derek just rolled his eyes collecting his forgotten weapons before he faced her once more.

"I'll be—"

"...back in three, I know."


And that's how it went for the next three days. Emily would see him every three hours until lights out. She decided early on to just let it be. He was going to come by whether she bitched about it or not. For a while she wondered if he was this frequent because he didn't want to get caught for going against the system. After some time she realized it didn't really matter. He'd told her before that he was either going to be her friend or her enemy and since her attempts at making him an enemy weren't working out as well as she'd hoped, friend was the next best option.

She wasn't about to admit that she kind of liked the company. It was a far cry from what she was already so used to. But on her last and final night, when she asked him if he could just stand watch when he wasn't doing other stuff on the night shift, she guessed that was the closest she was going to get to saying it to his face. It also helped that by now she didn't have to tell him why. Her head seemed to think it was a good idea to freak out on her more than a few times a day. Some of them seemed to start up just as he walked by her cell. About an hour into it, she'd told him she was fine now, that if she was the only thing keeping him from going home, to just go.

"Clooney will understand," he said, dutifully taking his post on the other side. She made a mental note to thank his friend personally for being so willing to give up a movie night to have him help her fend off her own stupidity. She said nothing more to that letting herself just lay there while periodically drying her hands on the blanket. When it seemed that they fell into a deeper silence with nothing but the florescent lighting to see by, Emily could feel her heart rate pick up again while she instinctively clamped a shaking hand over it as if that alone would keep it quiet. It was when her breathing became ragged that she heard the door slide open carefully, the sudden noise only serving to quicken her breaths. "Hey, hey, it's just me," he whispered. Whether it was the time of night or simply how bare she'd already been around him, she didn't have it in her to stop the tears as they flowed freely down her face. "Shh...Slow down..." The sound of his voice brought the sense of calm she always hated about him.

"I...I can't," she sputtered. "It...It's too small."

"What's too small?" he asked brushing a thumb along her forehead.

"The room...It...It's too small...The walls...They...They move. The ceiling was..."

"Shh...Slow." Derek's chest gave when she allowed herself the slightest whimper, even if she struggled to keep it back, almost choking on it as it betrayed her. "Emily, I need you to breathe. I know it's hard." When she finally did, he sighed. "Good...That's good." It wasn't until her breathing steadied completely that he realized where she was. Somewhere between asking her to breathe and the sudden calm, he'd pulled her in closer against him. Whether it was the steadiness of his own breath or his own heart, she fell silent. "Good job, baby," he murmured.

Even though she knew the slip wasn't meant to be taken in any specific way, Derek's quiet whispers melted her resolve. Taking a fistful of his uniform, she let the tears continue. She wasn't even sure what they were for anymore. All she understood was that they came hard and fast as if they'd waited years to be set free. And maybe...Maybe they had. Even though the crying continued, she could feel the rest of her body return to some kind of normal. He must have sensed it too because she could feel him start to pull away. She knew it was out of respect, that she had never shown signs of anything less than wanting to be left alone. But this felt different. Despite the darkness, she felt completely and utterly exposed to him...to anyone.

"No..." she choked. "Please...Please just...Just stay." At this point the words she spilled felt like nothing more than echoes to her own ears. She probably sounded so fucking pitiful. He wasn't going to hang around for that. She couldn't think of a single person who would. But when she heard his steady heart once more, relief washed over her in an ocean wave.

"Not so tight, sweetheart. Still right here." Even as she nodded, he eased an arm under her knees. In all her franticness Emily barely felt the shift. But something must have changed because his arm hadn't been there before. Stranger still was that she let it stay there, wrapped loosely around her waist to keep her comfortable in his lap. At least five more rules he'd broken for her and she knew it.

"I...I'm sorry," she whispered tearfully. "I...I'll be good. I'll do better..."

"You're doin' just fine, Emily. Relax," he murmured brushing his lips to her temple. If the situation itself wasn't already so alien, she very well could have imagined such a touch. But they'd already been to Looney Toons and back again more often than she could count. If in fact it was real, if Derek was real and not just imagined like she'd already done a few times before, she couldn't help but notice how genuine he had been to her. How she would even begin to thank him for this shit, she had no idea. What made her feel even worse was that he seemed to notice even the most subtle things. As much as it creeped her out there was something nice about that too. He noticed the tension in her shoulders lessen and smiled briefly. "There you go. Is that better?" She nodded slowly swallowing past the knot that pulsed in her throat. She couldn't for the life of her remember the last time she'd been talked to like that, let alone held in the way that he was holding her now. "You wanna try for some sleep?" All the relief in her muscles gave way to quiet tension when she realized what he meant.

"No..."

"Prentiss you have to sleep," he mumbled. No. No she didn't. If she gave in, he'd be gone. As many times as she'd chased him away in the past, he couldn't leave yet. Not this time. "I'll be right here."

"Promise?" she asked meekly. The fact that he hadn't moved her seemed answer enough. When finally she let her eyes fall shut, she realized that this might be the first time she'd actually slept in ten years.


Emily instinctively swatted the hand away that tried to shake her awake. Didn't they know she was sleeping? Really sleeping for once. When her hand brushed against a sturdy chest, she startled, now fully awake.

"Shit, sorry..." she muttered more than a little confused to see him in her cell. Even more confusing was the fact that he was holding her so closely and...stayed. She must have really been out of it because she didn't remember any of that at all. "What...What are you doing in here?"

"You were supposed to be up an hour ago." Well fuck.

"Great...Now she's gonna think I'm..."

"Strauss won't be here for another hour. Just thought you wanted a couple of hours to figure out how to string a few sentences together. You know, without the f bombs?" he smirked.

"Thanks..." Nodding, Derek finally went to stand.

"I'll be back in ten with your tray."

"What, no pointers?"

"There's nothing to point. Just tell them what you tell me. Strauss will take care of the rest. Just...turn on those filters, okay?"

"What filters?" she smirked back. When she was finally left in her silence, she gave herself room for one heavy breath. How the hell was she supposed to do this? She understood her standing charges but that was about it. She hadn't even met the woman who was supposed to be begging for her freedom. From what Derek said about her though, she was almost glad for it. How did she plan to beg? She hadn't exactly been a good standing citizen for society. It was kind of hard to feed the hungry when you were the hungry. "I guess I'll just...wing it," she mumbled.

Even though it was just the tray coming through to her, she sighed with some relief while going to retrieve it. Expertly avoiding his gaze, she bobbed her head in quiet thanks.

"You're not gonna wanna wing it," he warned. Of course he'd heard that. Morgan always seemed to be an expert when it came to timing. "Just be real. That's it. Tell the truth."

"It can't be that simple," she muttered.

"This time...it is. Let 'em know where you were when we picked you up. If they talk about what you were doing out there, make sure it's right. If they twist it, you fix it. Nicely. All they want is facts, Prentiss. Once they realize you haven't done anything against the law, service is an easy bet."

"But I was against the law, Morgan. I broke it. For ten years."

"Did you have a choice?"

"Unless I wanted to get dead, of course not."

"Well there ya go. They can't throw you in here for petty theft when you have a reason for it."

"Even you know that doesn't make sense," she mumbled. "You just want your Boy Scout badge," she teased. All Derek did was shrug.

"I mean, it's an awesome plus but that's about it. Honestly, I'd rather you make me wanna rip my hair out over the water or cable bill. This is just gettin' old. It's not even fun anymore, is it?"

"It never was in the first place. It was necessary."

"Just keep saying that. Strauss will back you up. The lady's a bitch but there's a reason she does what she does."

"Thank you, Officer Morgan. You always have such...kind words." Both heads shot up at the sound of a new voice. Emily half expected the officer to fluster his way out of his description of her but instead she saw him smile.

"Nothing but the truth. Emily Prentiss this is Erin Strauss. She'll be representing you in court today." The younger woman barely managed to mumble what she hoped was a polite greeting before going completely silent again.

"I sincerely hope you have more to say to the jury than that." Emily felt herself hardening again. Even if Derek was in the room, she knew nothing about this woman.

"I guess it depends on what they ask," she said honestly. Part of her wished she didn't have to talk at all. If she had any hope of being seen as more than her reputation, hoping to stay silent was only going to get her thrown back in here.

"At least I don't have to worry about you talking over me," she muttered. Emily had to swallow hard on a snide remark she would have offered if the words had instead fallen from the officer's mouth. This woman was hardly intimidating but she also happened to have Emily's freedom in her back pocket. Sit down and shut up was about the only thing that was going to work here. Not that she enjoyed that for a second. She could feel her attention being brought back when the woman opened her mouth again. "It says here that Officer Morgan has brought you in an estimated 200 times over the last three years?" Well, when she gave it a number like that it just made her sound pathetic as hell.

"Yes ma'am."

"Please clarify your last instance." Even though she knew it was just a question, something about the way she talked made her feel like they were already in front of a jury.

"Officer Morgan and his partner found me behind the convenience store. I had a can of soup and a packet of cigarettes on me. That's all I ever take. Food. The cigarettes don't happen as much. Just when I run out. I'm...actually trying to quit. It's not good on my lungs and...when you're forced to be on the move all the time it just makes it worse."

"How much would it have cost you if you hadn't stolen it?" Emily's temper flared. This woman talked about it like she was a well-practiced criminal who seemed to do it just for the high. Watching her shoulders tense, Derek gave her a look of warning.

"Like two dollars or something. I don't exactly remember. The pack of smokes was probably...twenty or something, I don't know. I never take them both at the same time. This one was different though."

"Is that all you've ever taken?" They're all chalk full of stupid questions.

"Mostly. Sometimes I switch it up a little. I think it'd be pretty boring if you just had soup every single day for dinner for the rest of your life, right?"

"What else have you taken, Ms. Prentiss?"

"I don't remember everything. Just that it wasn't ever more than like...five dollars. I just get what I need and go. It's never anything fantastic either but when you live like I do, you don't have room to be picky."

"Is it alright that I ask why it is you've been roaming the streets of Chicago for close to a decade?" No it's not alright!

"At sixteen you don't have a lot of options."

"And where are your parents in all of this?"

"Dead," she said flatly.

"I see... Has their passing ever made you consider—?"

"Drugs? Suicide? No never." But other stuff sure did.

"So it's safe to say you've never taken products to—"

"With all due respect, lady, if I've never done drugs or drank in my life, why would I need stuff to make it?"

"Because there are people out there who don't consume but choose to sell."

"Well not me. My life already sucks enough as it is. I don't need to get all jacked up to make it worse."

"Prentiss..." Turning at the sound of her name, she raised her brows with an easy shrug. If this woman was going to be insulting, she had every right to defend herself. And she'd done it nicely just like he said. She'd only sworn once so far.

"Can you tell me why it is you've elected to take the plea deal?" Because being in here feels like being buried alive she thought.

"I don't think it's going to work for me. If all I have to do is sit in here for six months, I'm not sure I'm going to learn anything. I'll probably just 'think about what I did' and be back in here for the same exact reasons once I'm out. People don't really get why we do what we do. Most think it's just a game, that we come in here to piss off the officers just 'cause we're bored. I'll admit that it's true for some people but this is all I know. The streets are my home. And if I had any hope of staying there, I had to make sure I didn't piss off anybody. Sure I'm well into my 20's now but back then, I wasn't gonna go home crying to my dead parents. So I made damn sure I had a place on the streets. Something to come back to. Something dependable. Something that wasn't going to decide to get sick on me and die. To keep it, I played by the rules. Sure I bent a couple of them but by then people knew why. The only reason I'm in here talking to you is 'cause the manager's a new guy. He doesn't get that I'm not gonna take from the register or put a gun to his head. I just go in there to eat...Like everybody else..."

"How do you think community service will benefit you?"

"Giving back," she said simply. One of the lamest answers she'd ever heard but in some respects it was true. She had no idea what they'd have her do to make up the hours but at least she would be doing something. In wide open spaces.

"And if you are awarded your time, you do understand that you will be under Officer Morgan's watchful eye."

"Yes ma'am."

"And that you have a 10pm curfew during this time?" Okay, that she didn't know. As much as it sucked, it made sense in a way. And it wasn't like Derek was going to keep her like a caged animal. Knowing him, he probably had more space than he knew what to do with.

"Yes."

"Good. Now when we go in there, I expect you to sit quietly. Do not speak unless spoken to. Let me do all the talking. Is that understood?"

"Yes ma'am."

Emily hardly remembered walking into the room, much less what was said once they sat down. For the moment, she was simply struggling to settle her nerves. The last thing she needed was to have an episode in here and be sent to get a psych evaluation. The world around her seemed to fade. All she could really make out were the mutters around her, heard as though she was left with her head underwater. For once she let herself be glad Strauss grilled her with specifics. Now she would have to do even less talking than she thought. Her head shot up when an elbow flew into her side.

"Ow!" she hissed.

"Ms. Prentiss, do you understand the conditions of your sentencing?" She was glad that for at least the next few seconds her ears decided to work properly. Otherwise she would feel really stupid about her next few words.

"Yes sir."

"Good. I sincerely hope you learn something useful from this experience. Ms. Prentiss will serve a total of 1,000 hours of service to this community. Given her specific circumstance, it has been requested that she spend her time paying back store owners for the goods she has taken over the extended time period." Oh okay so that was doable. She would just have to give the guy she took from the money to restock the items. "This will be done via employment free of charge for those who maintain these storefronts." Storefronts? As in more than one? How the hell was that going to work? "If at any point Ms. Prentiss refuses to or simply does not show up for her shift, her time under the care of Officer Morgan will come to an end and she will serve the allotted six month sentence here." She swallowed hard when his eyes landed directly on her. "Also be aware that you will periodically report to Ms. Penelope Garcia as she is your assigned parole officer. If you chose not to attend these meetings, you will be sent right back here to finish your time. Is all of that understood?"

"Yes your honour." It wasn't until he spoke that Emily realized he had come to listen in on the ruling. For that she was grateful since she had no hope of getting the appropriate words past her thick tongue while it seemed to rest at the roof of her mouth.

"Very well. Court dismissed." She didn't even realize she'd come in with cuffs on until Derek gently wound them around her back quietly nudging her forward. She wondered if he could feel them shaking while he kept them close together. At least her breathing was still relatively normal. If it decided to act up at all, she hoped it had the decency to wait until she was alone.

"Relax..." he mumbled. "It's over." Even though she didn't feel relaxed, she nodded. She almost fell over her own feet when he stopped suddenly. Morgan instinctively jerked her back to standing and removed the cuffs before leaning her gently against the wall. "Hey, what happened in there?"

"I...I don't know," she admitted. "I just...I checked out. Too much going on."

"Prentiss it was literally you, Strauss, the judge and me," he muttered. "And a jury you had your back to the whole time."

"Not the people. Just...this whole situation...I couldn't think. I swear I was like swimming or something...without water. All the voices were kind of...distorted. I got my hearing back when the judge talked to me though so I guess that's a good thing." He knew there was more to it than that. He never knew her to lose herself without taking herself somewhere first but left it alone for now.

"Alright, let's get you home." She wondered if he said it like that intentionally. And even if he didn't, there was something about it that made her feel...warm for once. Shaking her head, she sighed.

"Derek...You...You don't have to do this," she mumbled, hoping he knew how thankful she was despite the words coming out of her mouth.

"I know I don't. But you remember what I said, right? I don't live and breathe this place. You'd send yourself into a tailspin five times a day. I know you don't want that. You're a pain in my ass, Prentiss but I sure as hell don't want you dead."

"You're a bullshit liar," she muttered. She wasn't even sure which part of that comment she was addressing anymore. She was pretty sure that both of them were true enough. And Morgan, always the gentlemen went ahead and denied any of it in one swift lie. He never seemed to act as though she was a real pain in his ass. She was also pretty sure that at least part of him wished she was good and dead. She hadn't met a single person who didn't at least entertain the thought once or twice. And yes, even she knew that was a bit of a contradiction.

"Only when I have to be," he said fluidly. She expected even the slightest smirk to follow those words but to her surprise he was completely serious. If this community service thing was supposed to teach her anything, she wondered how much more she'd pick up from being forced to live with the officer.


A/N: Jeez...I didn't realize it was that long...Hahaha. I guess that means this story will hopefully get some pretty frequent updates!