They stayed for another two weeks. Both Derek and Emily had awakened the next morning with a strange yearning to hit the road again at first light, but it made sense to try to learn everything they could here in Reno before facing the unknown again on the road and in Chicago.

The people around them were no angels; there were skirmishes, even violence, almost daily—tussles over food, space, or nothing identifiable save for the progression of grief over the loss of their world. Still, they were people, and what united most of them was immeasurable love and loss, and the uncompromising determination to return home.

It did Emily good. Derek's heart lifted with the relief and pride he felt as he watched her quickly return to herself—by the third day, she had even recruited Gina into co-teaching a rag-tag women's firearms course—and when he held her at night, she was warm and soft and every bit as present as he was.

They made daily trips to the outskirts of Reno, venturing in closer every day. The view was terrifying. The thick, shining, black tar-like wall that surrounded the city was rough with the debris it had engulfed, and in the right light it looked almost pulsatile, like part of something living. Attempting to climb it was futile, though many continued to die every day from trying. It was guarded every couple of miles or so by Beamers at what everyone assumed was entry points, though there was nothing structural at these points to indicate any sort of doorway. Firefights broke out almost constantly when someone would become desperate enough to try to shoot their way through. They always lost.

He found her on their last evening in the still-light early April dusk, poking at something she was heating up in the fire. She looked up as he approached, smiling distractedly before turning her attention back to the single can of heating soup.

"Hey, Sweetness," he greeted, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her middle. He didn't have to see her face to know what it would look like in response: brow furrowed, one eyebrow raised incredulously.

"Hey, Muffin," she threw back at him, and Derek chuckled lowly into the curve of her neck. "How'd it go?"

Emily felt him shrug behind her. "Same old. What's for dinner?" He planted a quick peck on her cheek and came to sit beside her.

"Cream of mushroom," she announced, picking it carefully out of the fire and handing him a spoon. "Don't like, don't eat."

"Only one?"

Emily grimaced slightly. "Not hungry."

Instead, she cuddled closer to him and lay her head on his shoulder as he ate, and Derek smiled. It was funny—he really never would have profiled her this way, especially given her upbringing. Slowly, though, he was discovering how much she seemed to enjoy physical affection. She even seemed shyly needy of it at times and made increasingly frequent small advances: fingers softly probing his waiting to be held, a lean into him while he was distracted by something else… It was only when they were alone, however, and always seemed tentative, as if she weren't quite certain what his reaction would be. Derek tried to never leave her any room for doubt.

She had been silent throughout his quick dinner, and once Derek had put the can aside, he spun to the side to face her, straddling the fallen tree trunk they used as a bench. "Okay, Princess," he said as he pulled her between his legs, "What is it?"

Emily looked innocent. "What's what?"

"Don't give me that. What's bothering you?" He leaned his forehead against hers.

Emily sighed and thought for a moment. "We gotta leave sometime, Derek," she murmured. "How the hell are we going to get into Chicago?"

Derek just smiled and kissed her, hard and fast, on the lips. "I've got a plan for that."

"Oh you do, do you?" She pulled back to study him, an affectionate smile gracing her features. "You, Derek Morgan, have a plan for just about everything, don't you?"

"Mm hmm," he murmured, pulling her closer and nipping at her earlobe. "I have a fairly detailed one in place for tonight, in fact."

Emily snorted. "Yeah, I bet you do."

"My plan," he continued softly, "involves taking you into the back of that Suburban," (he kissed the angle of her jaw,) "taking off all your clothes," (he kissed the side of her neck,) "and making you scream."

"You know," she laughed, her voice coming out slightly breathless as he sucked at her collarbone, "I think I'm liking this plan."

He nudged her eagerly off their bench. By the time they made it over to the Suburban, Derek's shirt had been forgotten somewhere on the forest floor, and he and Emily had both become decidedly less coordinated.

"Damn it," she swore into his kiss as she fumbled unsuccessfully yet again with the hatchback. With one hand busy freeing her of her pants, he reached over blindly to help her pull it open, and they practically tumbled inside in a tangle of limbs and half-discarded clothing. Derek broke away momentarily to pull it closed behind them, then turned back to pull her pants the rest of the way off and began pushing her shirt impatiently up her body and over her head.

She arched her back slightly to assist him as he snaked one hand underneath her and started fiddling with the clasp of her bra. Emily could feel him getting more impatient as it refused to give and had to roll her eyes. "Just use two hands; it'll only take a second," she panted.

"I got it," he assured her hastily and recaptured her mouth, swallowing her involuntary moan of pleasure. After another minute, though, she pulled away again, huffing impatiently. "Seriously, what is it with you and this one-handed thing? You're going to—"

Derek gave up and pulled. Emily couldn't help but cringe at the sound of tearing satin. "Augh, seriously?"

"Shhhh," Derek shushed her, distracted. He pulled the torn garment off her and gripped either side of her waist more tightly, eyeing the newly-exposed flesh hungrily.

Emily gasped softly as the heat of his mouth surrounded one nipple but quickly gathered her wits and scowled up at the roof of the Suburban as Derek brought one hand up slowly, possessively, over her ribs to gently massage her other breast.

"Morgan, that was the only bra I had left, and I don't see us scheduling in a trip to Victoria's Secret anytime soon."

"Emily," he practically growled, reluctantly releasing her breast and instead punctuating his words with hot kisses and nips around the soft flesh, "If you need to keep talking about Victoria's Secret, that's fine." He bit down, hard, then lavished the red mark with a wet kiss before moving on to the other breast. "But don't call me Morgan when I have my hand down your panties." He propped himself up on one elbow so he could look straight into her eyes.

"You don't—ohh," The way she stared up at him, vulnerable, eyes wide and slightly glassy with pleasure, sent a hot surge of animalistic pride through his chest, and the growing tightness beneath the fabric of his jeans became nearly unbearable. He lowered himself so his face was inches from hers, never breaking eye contact. Emily's lips parted.

"…Okay?" he plunged his fingers more deeply into her and curled them forward. Her eyelids fluttered, but she remained focused on him, nodding silently, then adding on a breathy sigh, "okay." Derek smirked, repeating the action with his fingers and liking the way her whole body rocked upwards in response to the pressure.

Suddenly, though, his balance was thrown off as Emily surprised him by forcing his weight towards his supporting side, rolling them so she was on top and straddling him. She ground once, decisively, against his hand and leaned forward with an almost predatory smile. "Asshole." She ground against him once more, and he could feel the soft puff of her hot breath against his jaw.

Morgan groaned. "Not exactly what I had in mind, but…"

"You owe me new lingerie."

Derek was quickly losing the ability to think clearly as she grabbed his wrist, removing his fingers from her and shimmying down his body to undo his fly and coax his pants down over his hips. And he was definitely not going to refuse her anything by the time she had divested him of his boxers, her lips coming to rest on his hard length before her tongue darted out and started teasing him.

"There's—Jesus, Emily—There's bound to be another Wal-Mart in one of these towns." She had just taken him into her mouth when she froze at his words. He only had a second to mourn the loss of her wet lips and tongue before he found his entire length pressed against a different heat, their hips perfectly aligned as Emily again supported herself with a hand on either side of his head. Her eyes were narrowed at him incredulously.

"Wal-Mart?" she scoffed. "Do you have any idea how much I paid for that thing?"

Derek had wasted no time gripping her ass and forcing her pelvis to grind hotly against his. She collapsed on top of him, and the feel of her breasts against him had him wanting to bury himself in her to the hilt and never leave. He knew he wouldn't last much longer.

"Baby," he muttered, lifting his head to suck at the sensitive skin of her neck. "I swear to you, it was worth every penny." He flipped them again, and though Emily still smirked up at him, determined to have the last word, her voice was becoming more breathless, and Derek could tell she was as ready as he was.

"You bet your ass it was. Until you decided to—God." It was Derek's turn to smirk, taking her in as her eyes lost focus and he settled into a rhythm, loving how her body almost immediately relaxed, practically melting into it. "Oh, God. Oh, fuck, yes. Yes… Derek!"


They left at dawn the next morning without a word to anyone. It stung a bit, but they had been through enough to know that their world wasn't what it used to be. Despite the fact that they had met some good people outside of Reno, Morgan and Prentiss were painfully aware that travelling alone with a healthy stash of weaponry and ammo, they would make highly tempting targets.

30 minutes into their drive, Derek was becoming increasingly agitated by the looks she kept shooting him.

"Okay, stop it," he finally ordered, shifting a little uncomfortably in his seat.

Emily's brow furrowed. "Stop what?"

"With the eyes. Stop it."

"These are my eyes, Derek. I don't know what you'd suggest I do with them."

Derek barked out a laugh. "Oh, right. As if you don't know very well you can get just about anything you want with those eyes."

Emily huffed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Not buyin' it, Princess."

She seemed to sulk for a while, then decided it wasn't enough. "You broke my only bra, Derek. I'm allowed to be a little pissed off at you."

To her chagrin, her admission did not have the desired effect at all. Derek's face lit up, and he took one hand off the steering wheel to reach over eagerly and cup her breast, bare underneath the sweatshirt she wore. "Well, so I did," he announced, his tone positively dripping with self-satisfaction.

"It's not funny," Emily insisted. "If we have to run anytime soon, you are going to owe me big."

Derek just laughed. "Hey, I didn't know it was your only one; I though you'd have a good supply of that kind of stuff. Besides," he gave her a playful squeeze through her top. "Lucky for you, I'm more than happy to help out in that department."

She shoved his hand away. "Oh, excuse me for not packing appropriately for the Apocalypse," she bit out sarcastically, but Derek simply caught her hand, brought it to his lips for a quick peck, and continued to beam at her. It didn't take long for the sides of Emily's mouth to start tugging upwards into a smile. She looked over at him, blinking sweetly a couple times. "Anything I want, huh?"

"Don't even think about it, Prentiss," he warned playfully.

Emily grinned at him and settled back in her seat, keeping their fingers intertwined between them for a few seconds longer. "So you never told me about your plan to get us into Chicago."

Derek blew air between his lips. "Right. You ever heard of Chicago's underground freight tunnels?"

She thought for a moment, brow furrowed. "Didn't they flood in the early nineties? Morgan, those are probably all sealed off by now."

"Some of them are; most of them are still open down there, if you can find a way to get in. And they extend nearly to the water."

"That seems like a pretty big if," Emily reflected, looking skeptical. "More likely a bunch of big ifs."

"It's all I've got, though, Emily," he replied almost desperately. "And I'm thinking—I'm hoping if I've thought of it, other people have too. They're not too well-known, but if you grew up in Chicago, you've most likely heard stories… I just feel like if I don't try, I'll never—"

"Hey," she interjected softly, cutting him off and reaching over to squeeze his upper arm. "Of course we have to try. And if that doesn't work, we'll try something else."

Not trusting words to adequately express what that meant to him, Derek simply reached up to cover her hand, bringing it down once more between them and giving it a grateful squeeze.

Emily smiled at him. "Let's go see your mom."

They continued to keep to side roads, but the journey this time was much easier now that the countryside seemed relatively clear of Beamers, and it only took them three days to reach the suburbs of Chicago. As with Reno, the closer they drew, the more stragglers they encountered, but Derek drove them straight through around the less populated South end, right up to Lake Michigan. As soon as the expected black Wall was within sight, he killed the engine. "We're going to be passing close," he explained, almost apologetically. "We'll attract attention driving, and we might lose road access anyway." Emily simply nodded and got out to pack their essentials.

It was almost nightfall by the time they made it to the lakefront trail bordering Grant Park. Here, they were less than half a mile from the Wall, and the sight was horrifyingly surreal, like some hulking, fantastical beast hunched protectively over its prey.

The lakefront was surprisingly deserted, though they supposed they really couldn't blame people for not wanting to get caught this close after dark. The upside of the bare, deserted lakefront, though, was that it didn't appear to be very heavily guarded.

They spent nearly four hours searching for a deserted tunnel or boarded up elevator shaft that might indicate an entry point to the long-abandoned freight tunnels. Finally, Emily collapsed onto the side of the huge, waterless fountain in the centre of the park to rest, slumping exhaustedly forward and looking at him with heavy, drained eyes. She gave him a small smile as he approached which Derek had no doubt was meant to be encouraging, but he could see how pale she was, and in her exhaustion she wasn't quite able to hide the doubt in her expression.

"We'll try tomorrow," she told him as he sat next to her. "It's just hard in the dark."

Derek had just taken a breath to respond when an urgent whisper had them both leaping to their feet and drawing their guns, fully alert and searching for the source of the noise.

"Hey," it came again. Both guns whipped towards the shadowed figure of a man approaching them slowly from about 20 yards away. Derek drew himself up to his full height and moved so that his body was directly between Emily and the stranger.

The man continued to approach, slowly and warily, empty hands held out in front of him. "I'm a friend," he said, as loudly as he dared. "If you want into the city, I can help you. But I'm not staying for long."

"How?" Derek demanded, refusing to lower his gun.

The man shot a cautious glance behind him. "The tunnels," he said. "You must already know, or you wouldn't be poking around here in the dark."

With one hand still gripping her gun, Emily retrieved a flashlight and shone it directly at him, first his face, then down his body searching for any weapons. The man squinted in the harsh light. "Look, my name is Malik," he explained. "I'm an engineer. I can get you into the tunnels, but… I need to be back before sunrise. If you want to come, come now."

With a glance towards Derek, Emily slowly lowered her weapon. Derek did the same a few seconds later, but both continued to eye the newcomer warily.

"Okay," Emily challenged, nodding for him to go ahead of them. "Show us." She allowed Derek to lock his fingers protectively through hers, then followed Malik back towards the waterfront.

As they reached the road that cut between them and the lake, Malik slowed to a stop and crouched down to lift the cover of a manhole. With a glance back at them to see that they were still following, he lowered himself to a seated position at its edge. "Careful," he warned. "The ladder is narrow and slippery. Last one down, draw the cover back to where it was." And with that, he disappeared into the ground.

Emily was the last one in. As she dropped to the bottom, she let out a gasp of disgust and brought her hand up quickly to cover her mouth and nose. Derek held out a hand to steady her. "You okay?" He asked, alarmed.

"Yeah, just… smells down here."

When all three had illuminated their flashlights, Derek nodded once again for Malik to lead the way, not wanting to get caught with the stranger at their backs. After a few minutes, their guide started talking.

"I remember learning about the freight tunnels in school," he began softly. "It became a bit of a hobby of mine. I once managed a tour after years of being turned away. Since the beginning of all this… this occupation, however you call it, I've been making trips in and out, at least once a day. Sometimes there's no one around; sometimes there is. Like tonight."

Emily felt herself relax slightly as she realized how much they would owe this man if he was actually able to bring them safely inside. "Why do it?" She asked him. "Why risk it?"

Malik seemed to think about this for a while. "If that Wall was the only thing keeping me from my children," he responded finally, "I think I would die trying to scale it. This seems… a better option."

They continued along the sewers for another 30 minutes or so until Malik stopped and opened a grate for them to crawl through. He then led them across a cement freight area to a pair of ancient double elevator doors. "We're in the sub-basement of Central Station," he explained calmly. "But still too close to the Wall. We enter the tunnels here, then we'll follow them to City Hall." He pried the doors open and prepared to enter the gaping shaft. "I've built steps here," he told them, "but they're crude, so only one at a time."

The tunnels were pitch dark, cold, and wet. They followed them in silence for over three hours until finally, they arrived at some industrial steel steps leading to a metal door. On the other side, they found themselves in yet another sub-basement, then took four flights of stairs up to emerge into the once-gleaming granite elegance of the Chicago City Hall lobby.

The ceiling was high and vaulted; the consecutive towering archways seemed to recede into a dizzying and endless tunnel. They had walked all evening, then nearly all night, and soon they would step out, exhausted, into the stillness of pre-dawn. Emily swayed. Derek's hand shot out again to steady her, and he kept it resting gently on her back even after she waved him off.

As they reached the paneled front doors, Malik stopped and turned to them. "Traveling at night is reasonable," he told them. "The Machines show up in darkness before you do. If you see one… do not attract its attention." With that, he pulled open one heavy door and led them out into downtown Chicago.

The street was still littered with remnants of an interrupted weekday that may as well have been eons ago. Cars and buildings showed more damage here than they had in Ramona, and the uneven tops of unlit skyscrapers cut jagged black shadows against the inky sky like pleading prisoners reaching towards the outside.

The cool, nighttime breeze against her cheek wasn't enough to call her back from the new wave of dizziness that was quickly overtaking her. Emily collapsed to her knees and vomited onto the cold, unforgiving sidewalk.

Greenish-grey splotches clouded out her vision, but she soon felt Derek's hand supporting her forehead and his body steady beside her and willing to take her weight, and she couldn't have been more grateful. When her stomach stopped heaving, what she wanted to do more than anything was to curl up right there on the concrete and fall asleep with her head in his lap. Instead, she pushed herself into a half-seated position, supporting herself with shaky hands on his knees and letting his grip on her shoulders steady her upper body. Her breathing evened out eventually, but her heart didn't show any signs of slowing. Finally, Emily raised wide, terrified eyes to his and waited for his expression to change from concern to realization.

Because it wasn't indigestion that was making her empty her stomach of a non-existent dinner at four in the morning in the middle of the street. When Derek's eyes flashed and his jaw tightened and he silently gathered her closer, taking her full weight onto his side, Emily knew that he understood. She collapsed against him gratefully and waited for the trembling to subside.

"I have to go," Malik's almost apologetic statement startled Derek from his racing thoughts. "I have my family to take care of." The man was considering them with a strange mix of resignation, sympathy, and hope colouring his expression. He nodded at Derek as the two men's eyes met. "As you do. Good luck, my friend."

He turned and disappeared down the shadowed street.


"Emily?"

No.

"Emily… Emily!"

No, she wasn't ready to leave yet.

She felt herself being moved. "Open your eyes, Bella."

Not yet… not yet.

Emily opened her eyes.

"There you are." The voice was smiling. Emily blinked.

"Dave?"

"Agent Prentiss." It was Hotchner's voice that responded this time, and Emily shot up, arms and legs scrambling to arrange themselves in a somewhat more dignified position.

"Sir," was the first thing that flew from her mouth. "What—I…"

"Are you hurt?"

"No. I'm fine."

"Prentiss, is the Subject dangerous?"

She started to shake her head, but Rossi cut in. "You were worried about something."

"But I'm not anymore," she replied firmly.

"You were out for quite a while, Emily." JJ now. Emily hadn't realized she was there as well.

Looking from her friend's worried face to her boss, Emily silently weighed her options. Tell Hotchner the truth and she may as well walk up to him in a straightjacket. Lie, and she would be humbling herself before him in a way that sent a shiver of distaste up her back—and he might still lose respect and confidence in her if she didn't choose her words perfectly. Turning towards him, Emily made the only choice she could possibly make.

"Sir," she began slowly. "What JJ told you… maybe her concern isn't entirely baseless. As you know, I've—" she swallowed thickly—"I've had my mind elsewhere this year, and maybe I've thrown myself a little too fully into my cases to make up for it."

Hotchner was nodding, and Emily hastened to continue before he got the wrong idea of where she was headed. "The work is good for me, though," she insisted. "Believe me, Sir, there is no way I want a repeat of this. I lost my head and was running on fumes; I must have blacked out. It won't happen again." Her supervisor looked doubtful, so she pressed on. "Let me finish this one file, then I promise I'll take a few days. I'll take it easy; I'll stick to my desk… just please don't make me leave this unfinished."

He considered a moment. "Can you stand?" He inquired, and Emily hastened to her feet. Hotchner looked over her appraisingly. "Take the rest of the afternoon," he ordered finally. "But I'll see you back in the morning."

When the door clicked shut behind him, Emily nearly sank with relief. She knew what she had to do, and another day was all she would need. Before she could follow him, though, a hand on her arm stayed her. At JJ's look, she turned to face her friend and heard Rossi chuckle behind her. "I can tell when I'm not wanted," he muttered good-naturedly. "I'll leave you ladies to it."

Both women watched him leave, then JJ's voice called Emily's attention back to her. "I think this is a bad idea."

Emily narrowed her eyes. "Oh, do you? What, you gonna run and tell the boss on me?" She paused for a moment then deflated a little. "Sorry," she muttered.

"We've been through this," JJ replied, seeming to ignore her jab. "Talk to me, Em. What the hell really happened? We find you here unconscious on the floor and you want us to just believe it was because you skipped breakfast?" Emily looked away stubbornly. "Emily, please," JJ's voice softened. "Is it the dreams? Have you been having them again?" When she didn't answer, JJ grabbed her hand and squeezed, waiting.

Emily knew she should keep this to herself. No one would understand. She would be kicked off the case and forced into early retirement. People would look at her pityingly and whisper behind her back. But JJ was her friend, and that friendship meant something, and damn if she wasn't all but desperate for something in this world to mean something.

She gave a short nod. "Only, I don't think they're dreams, JJ."

She could hear the sharp intake of breath. "What—" JJ stammered as if she were afraid to hear the answer. "What are you talking about?"

Emily slowly lifted her eyes to meet JJ's. Forcing her gaze to remain steady, she whispered, "I think they're memories."