Chapter Nine: You Again


Silence.

She became accustomed to it as a child of an Ambassador. She enjoyed it in her youth after escaping the chaos she tangled herself up in Rome. It became the unwritten rule in the Bureau. It was her only companion after escaping Doyle.

Emily finds it rather unsettling now. What she also finds unsettling is what she sees before her.

Derek Morgan does not cry. Perhaps a tear shed here and there, but streaks of them flowing down? No such thing has ever been witnessed by her, or Spencer for the matter. But it's happening. He's crying.

He's crying and every single muscle in his body tries to deny it—Emily can see. His eyebrows furrow, slanting down, like what she perceives his trust is now with her. She can see the slight movement in his jaw, and the grinding of his teeth coincides with his clenching fists. Emily can see him trying, so desperately hard to control his emotion, but she knows better.

She knows the eyes always hold the truth, and what resides in her former partner's eyes frighten her. Denial, but no anger. Derek Morgan isn't Derek Morgan without a little anger.

Emily doesn't know what to do but look back at him. She hopes that her eyes reveal just as much truth as his, and she's willing to tell him if he allows her to. She stares at him until she feels wetness falling down her own face, and suddenly the silence is gone. She can hear Spencer opening the door wider, letting him in.

But he doesn't accept the invitation. He turns the other way and begins to walk, quickly, to hide the uncontrollable heaves his chest makes.

"Dere—" she steps out into the morning light, reaching for his shoulder only to catch air. He says nothing. He keeps walking until he's in his car.

It's done. Everything she's planned will be of no use once he starts that engine and drives, no doubt to tell everyone of what he's discovered. She waits for it to be done, for him to drive away. And she waits. Emily stands in utter confusion outside of the motel as she watches Derek in his car. He hasn't moved for nearly a minute.

She realizes then that he's waiting for her, and with grave uncertainty, she steps forward, forcing her legs to not break in stride. She knows he can't make her face out from the distance, but he'd know from her cautious steps that she was afraid, and she can't have him thinking that. She knows it could—it would imply something else.

She's not afraid of him knowing and telling. Emily's afraid for his disownment.

She settles into the passenger's side, and once the door shuts, it locks.

"Who are you." It's not a question, but a demand. A demand to tell him who she is, and who she's become.

"I'm Emily Prentiss."

She sees the vein in his temple pulse. "Emily Prentiss died. Who are you."

"I'm Emily Prentiss." She says it with more force than before. She says it with less tenderness and with the utmost certainty, hoping that she'd convince herself somewhere along the way that she was the same person she was the year before, but she knows that isn't going to happen. Not with her and not with Derek.

"Who. Are. You."

He refuses to look at her. Instead he looks straight ahead, watching as Spencer closes the red wood, giving them privacy in the outdoors.

"I'm not sure of my name." She finally admits, and her honesty is rewarded with the slightest nod. "You used to know me." Emily turns away from him, looking parallel to his view, catching sight of Spencer pacing back and forth through the window.

"I did?" His question frightens her. It doesn't emit uncertainty and the suggestion to educate; it's a challenge. One to remind him and convince him that she really is who she is.

"You once called me your partner and your friend."

"You stopped being my partner when you died."

"So you admit, I'm Emily Prentiss?" The hope in her rises at his words.

"Not the one I knew." It's cold. That's all she feels from him, and regardless from knowing better, she replies with the same bitterness.

"And you're not the Derek Morgan I knew."

And that's when the ice melts. "Well if you hadn't faked your damn death and left without a damn word, I probably wouldn't have changed."

"You know staying the same is impossible." She keeps her voice levelled, not raising it, like his temper.

"Like you coming back to life?" He finally turns to face her, and out of instinct she turns to face him, seeing the hurt that continues to flow relentlessly from fiery eyes. "I told you to stay with me!"

"And I told you to let me go!" Their voices ring loudly in her ears, and she continues to speak before the silence between them deafens her. "I am not asking for your forgiveness. I am asking for your consideration of forgiveness, and when that happens, I'll tell you everything, Derek."

She sees the slight raise of his brows, betraying the stoic expression on his face. "Why are you so sure that'll happen?"

"Because you said I stopped being your partner when I died. You never said I stopped being your friend." She releases the tense position she's in by twisting her upper body to face him, making sure to keep distance at the same time. "You know how difficult it is to let people in. I never do that, Derek. You were the person I first opened up to when I came to the Bureau. I told you about messing up my date by mentioning Kilgore Trout. You saw the parts of me I was cautious on revealing, but revealed. It may seem like so little to you, but it's the most I've ever given."

When he doesn't reply, she moves back to facing the motel room. Emily takes deep breaths to calm the rising fear of rejection, but it doesn't help. It just get worse, and when the seconds of silence turn into minutes, the sound of his voice causes her to sag in relief.

"Doyle's dead?"

She nods, knowing she can't be any more articulate with the tricks her mind is playing on her.

"And you're alive."

She nods again.

"That wasn't a question." He says, and she continues to nod, knowing those three words mean more than she could ever ask for from him.

She's alive—to Spencer, to Derek, and to herself—and she's beginning to feel like Emily again.


To Be Continued
For some reason, with Derek and Emily, when they have serious conversations there are barely any words in comparison to the silence and looks. And oddly enough, their little use of words say so much. Hopefully what I imagined their first encounter to be seems believable, and I understand there are many ways to approach this. Thanks for the read, and opinions on this chapter would be more than great (don't worry, I haven't dropped Emily's work in the past year. That will be revealed soon). Stick around for more, and thanks for reading this far! :)