Chapter 2: A Beautiful Beginning

Derek woke in the morning to soft whines from the foot of his bed. Clooney was hungry and desperately wanted his owner to get out of bed and feed him. Derek couldn't help but smile. His dog was such a sweetheart and he loved him so much. It was still dark out, just after five in the morning, and he could have slept in a while longer, but he couldn't help wanting to make Clooney happy.

Rolling out of bed, he sat up and ruffled the pit bull's ears, earning a tail wagging. He rose from the bed, stretching his arms above his head and yawning loudly, before wandering downstairs to make breakfast.

He had to be at work by eight, but he thought he would take Clooney for a run before he started getting ready. They both loved starting their mornings that way and after the last long case, he really wanted to take his dog out and enjoy some normalcy before diving back into the craziness. Yes, a run was definitely a good idea.

He blended his protein smoothie and poured Clooney a bowl of dog food and fresh water, and then went in search of the leash. It wasn't in its usual place beside the front door, and for a moment Derek was worried he might have lost it. Then he remembered he had put it in a drawer in the kitchen so Clooney wouldn't try to play with it while he was out of town.

After retrieving the leash, and finishing off the last of his smoothie, Derek headed towards the front door, where he sat down and put on his sneakers.

"Come on boy," he teased Clooney, "Don't you want to go for a run?"

Everything felt normal. And he was enjoying the return to the familiar routine. Neither he, nor Clooney, had any suspicions that today would be anything but average. He would go running, get ready for work, maybe call his sisters before leaving for the office. He would catch up on the pile of case file undoubtedly on his desk right now and hope not to get a new case for a couple of days. He would go to dinner with JJ or Reid, and talk about absolutely nothing, and laugh until his sides hurt.

But that was not what the day had in store for him, and it wasn't until Derek pulled open his front door that he realized just how wrong he was…

6 MONTHS EARLIER…

Emily was exhausted when she left her apartment that morning. It had been case after case after case for months with almost no time to recover and she was run pretty ragged. She desperately needed a real cup of coffee, something stronger than the stale, burnt sludge at the BAU. So she decided to leave her place a few minutes early that morning and grab herself something from the café down the street.

She walked inside, her mind still reeling from the last case, her eyes glazed over, unfocused. She approached the counter and ordered, going to wait by the window, staring off into space.

"Emily," the barista called for the fourth time, "Earth to Emily?" She finally looked up and cracked a small smile at the expression on the barista's face. She thought her name was Claire, but wasn't sure. "Here you go hun, one large mocha double shot with cinnamon."

Emily grabbed the cup, quietly thanked Claire, and took a long drink before stepping away from the counter. The hot coffee felt good running down her throat and she knew the caffeine would be exactly what she needed to make it through the day.

But, as she turned around, headed for the door to the café, Emily ran straight into another customer, efficiently spilling both of their drinks, causing him to drop his croissant, and ruining his tie. Shit!

They both started mumbling apologies as they ducked down to clean up the mess. Everyone in the café was staring at them, so everyone saw when they smacked heads. It was truly comical, like something out of an afternoon soap opera, and they both were laughing by the time they recovered their drinks and stood.

"God I am so sorry," Emily began again, "I wasn't watching where I was going and – "

"No no no," he interrupted, "It's my fault. I practically jumped in front of you. I'm sorry"

They stood awkwardly for a moment, just looking at each other, neither sure what the right thing was to say or do at that moment. That was when Emily noticed the mystery man's tie was absolutely ruined.

"Oh no, your tie…"

"It's fine really," he assured her.

"At least let me buy you another coffee?" she asked genuinely. After all, she needed a new one too, and it was the least she could do after pouring scalding hot coffee all over him and probably making him late to work. And ruining a very handsome tie!

"No way," he responded smiling, "I am buying you a coffee." When she looked confused, he continued. "If I am going to be late to work, and have to get a new tie, the very least you can do is allow me to enjoy coffee and pastries with a beautiful young woman for my trouble."

She blushed hugely at this, and nodded silently. "Um, I'm Emily by the way."

"Hunter," he responded, smiling as he approached the counter.

PRESENT…

But that was not what the day had in store for him, and it wasn't until Derek pulled open his front door that he realized just how wrong he was…

At first, he couldn't make sense of what he saw. A woman asleep, or maybe unconscious, on his doorstep, at six in the morning? She was curled up in the corner of the front steps, her head resting against the wall. Hair covering her face, dark brown. Her skin was almost blue from the cold, and darker blue in patches. Bruises?

And there was blood. Oh God, there was so much blood… On her arms, her legs, her feet, soaking through her torn dress, pooling around her limp form. It was everywhere…

Derek assessed all of this in a single moment of shock before spurring into action. Clooney was barking loudly, following him onto the stoop as he approached her.

His hands found her throat and softly pressed. She had a pulse. Sluggish, irregular, and not strong at all, but her heart was definitely still beating. Thank God.

He whipped out his cell phone and called 911, while at the same time pulling off his jogging jacket and pressing it firmly to the largest visible cut, trying to stop the bleeding.

"911…What is your emergency?" the calm female voice on the other end of the phone asked him.

"Um…Oh God, she's bleeding. She's hurt real bad. I need an ambulance," he answered, without anywhere near the same level of calm.

"Sir," the voice was back, "Can you tell me where you are?" He gave her his address. His home address. This was not something that was ever supposed to happen at his home. "Good, thank you. Sir, the medics are on their way. I have also alerted the police and they will be there soon." Good. Good, the police needed to be here. Or the FBI? Should I call Hotch? "Sir, can you tell me your name?"

"Derek," he answered, trying to think clearly, "Agent Derek Morgan, FBI."

His answer seemed to surprise the woman on the phone, but she did a good job of covering it. "Alright Agent. Can you tell me what happened?"

"I…I don't know. I was just leaving to take my dog for a run, and she was just here. She was on my front porch. And there's so much blood. And she's so cold. I…I don't know how she got here." He was rambling. He knew that. But he couldn't take his eyes off of the poor woman's torn thighs. Stab wounds? Or just deep cuts? Was that glass? And oh God, there was so much bruising…What the hell happened to her? And why had she decided on his doorstep? Why hadn't she gone to a hospital? Or did someone drop her off here? What the hell was going on?

"Ok Agent. I need you to stay calm, and do everything you can to keep her stable until the medics arrive. Can you tell me who she is?"

"Um…I, I'm not, I don't," he didn't know how to answer. He hadn't even looked at her face, still buried in her bloodied, matted hair. He couldn't look away from all the blood. But the woman on the phone was right, they needed to know. So, he looked up, and softly brushed her hair aside, revealing a bruised and battered face. There was more blood, and her eyes were closed tight, possibly swollen shut. Nonetheless, he would know that face anywhere, he would know her anywhere. And as the reality set in, he began to panic. No no no no no, NOT HER! THIS COULD NOT BE HAPPENING TO HER!

"Sir, can you hear me? Are you still there?" the voice broke through his sudden panic, bringing him back to reality, "Do you know who she is Agent?"

"Emily, Agent Emily Prentiss, FBI," he croaked almost inaudibly, "my partner…"