Rossi found Reid slumped over the desk with at least five empty Styrofoam cups, which no doubt had once been filled with coffee, scattered around him. There were two more cups in the trashcan and Rossi couldn't help but wonder what was bothering the kid. He knew Reid had had a drug issue before he arrived, but the signs didn't seem to fit now. If Reid was using again, he was definitely hiding it well.

Sighing softly, Rossi switched on the desk light and Reid jumped a mile out of his chair. It took the young doctor a moment, but his eyes eventually fell on the man who had torn him from his dreamless sleep.

"Campus security contacted me about suspicious activity," Rossi informed him softly. "You do realize that it's past midnight?" he added when Reid didn't answer. They were the only two occupants of the university's legal library, Reid apparently the only person on campus who felt the need to study on a Friday night.

Reid rummaged in various pockets, producing up a laminated I.D. badge. "I have authority."

"Reid," Rossi began as he took the chair directly across from him. "Do you want to talk?"

"I'm fine, Rossi. Really."

A number of well-worn legal textbooks were scattered across the table top, open to pages on various topics and a numerous photocopied sheets in various stages of being highlighted littered the desk. Rossi's eyes shifted to the case file sitting open on the desk. There were several names scrawled across the file and before he could process any of it, Reid flipped it over, blocking it from his view. "That's not our case. Is it?"

Reid honestly didn't know how to respond to that, so he changed the subject altogether. "Everything's okay."

"Reid –"

"I'm just helping a friend, Rossi," Reid cut in, "That's all."

Rossi sighed, admitting defeat. Reid clearly wasn't going to open up now and if he pushed too much, he knew Reid would cut off all ties completely. He didn't want that. "Okay, Reid. But promise me you'll come to me before you get into trouble. I just want to help."

Reid gave him a sad-eyed smile as he stood from his chair. "I think it's a little late for that, Rossi, but thanks anyway. It's nice to know that someone cares."

"Spencer…" But his words were never acknowledged, because by then, Reid was already halfway out the door.

***

Hotch awoke in a chair in an almost impossible position. For a moment, he had no idea where he was, but as soon as his frantic eyes fell on the small boy in the bed, he knew. It had felt like a dream, though. These last couple of months, everything just seemed to fall out of place and his world had crumbed at his feet. But he had tried so hard to tell himself otherwise, to live a lie. Ever since Jack was diagnosed he had convinced himself that everything would be okay, that everything would go back to the way it was. He told himself this until he believed the lie over the truth. But now, seeing Jack in that bed, made him realize that there were just some things he would never be able to fix, no matter how hard he tried.

"Daddy?"

Hotch leaned forward, until he could see his son's eyes in the dark. It was well past midnight and, after a full day out in the field, he just couldn't sleep knowing that Jack was here. "Hey, Buddy. You should be asleep."

"Daddy? Can I ask you a question?" Jack asked in the innocent way only a child could.

"Yeah sure," he whispered.

Jack gave him tired smile and then, slowly, he reached out a hand and traced his father's face. "What is heaven like?"

Hotch blinked back tears and forced himself to remain on task, but his walls were crumbling down and he wasn't sure how long he could keep them up. "I don't know, but I'm sure it's everything you imagine it to be and possibly more." He inhaled sharply, forcing his voice to stay steady. "But you shouldn't worry about that, because you won't be visiting there for a long, long time. You hear me?"

A tear must have escaped his eye because Jack wiped it away as he nodded. "Daddy, you shouldn't be sad." Jack smiled a toothy smile and it made his heart ache. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

"Yeah?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah. 'Cause remember... I'll always be right there." He pointed to Hotch's heart. "No matter what."

And Hotch broke then and he didn't care that Jack was there to witness it. Without Jack, he didn't know who he was. And if Jack died, he would die, because after all, you couldn't live for very long without a heart. He had became an FBI agent to save people, but he should have been more specific. He should have named names.

***

By the time he arrived at the hospital, it was well past midnight. The only lights left on were the ones in the emergency room, but it didn't matter because the light of the moon did a good enough job of leading the way. A guard and two nurses had each stopped him, saying that visiting hours were over and he would have to come back tomorrow, but it only took his charm and a flash of his badge to get where he wanted to be. When he found her, her eyes were closed and she was breathing slowly, deeply. To him, the monitor keeping time to her heartbeat counted out the seconds of her life.

"Morgan?" she rasped out before she even opened her tired eyes. "What are you doing here?"

He smiled softly as he took the seat beside her bed. "I told you I'd come. Didn't I?"

She looked so small on the hospital bed, so fragile, so lost. Morgan sighed heavily as he ran a hand through her hair, letting his fingertips cascade through her wavy locks and making sure his eyes never left hers. A silence hung between them and he didn't dare break it because he wanted her to know that he was there for her. Sometimes there weren't words to say. Some things were just better left unsaid.

It was her who chose to break the silence. "Yeah, but I didn't think you'd come."

It took him a moment to realize that she was referring to his previous question. "I always have time for you."

"You're a good guy, Morgan. You know that?"

She was so tired. He could hear it in her voice, the way she trailed off at the end of every sentence, the way she couldn't quite keep her eyes open. "Hey, you should be asleep," he said, finally finding his voice.

"You're not," she pointed out.

"You called."

"You should go back," she told him honestly, "I'll be okay. I promise."

But she didn't sound okay. "I'd rather stay here." And he meant it.

She dropped her eyes shyly, a reaction he'd never seen from her before. Maybe, Emily Prentiss was a little more afraid than she was letting on and just possibly she didn't want to die. "I didn't know who else to call," she told him softly, her voice cutting through him like a whip.

"I didn't tell anyone," he admitted to her quietly.

She either didn't hear him or ignored him, because her voice, filled with question rang throughout the room. "Morgan?"

There was a beat of silence, a silence he felt should not be broken, so he waited patiently for her to continue.

"Do you ever think about dying?"

He hesitated, but he couldn't lie to her when she could very well be on her death bed. "Sometimes it crosses my mind," he admitted and it only took one glance at her for memories of the past to invade his mind. He could hear her laughter in his ear, her voice in his head, and see the bits and pieces of broken moments before his eyes. And he realized then that memories weren't stored in the heart or even the soul, but the spaces between any two given people.

"I think about it. All the time. Do you think it'll be like sleeping? That easy? That painless?"

The conversation was getting to him and, more for his sake than hers, he had to look away and blink back tears. "You don't have to worry about that, Em. Everything will be okay."

Another silence washed over them and it lasted for awhile, making him wonder if she had fallen asleep, but when he turned to look at her, those hollow eyes continued to gaze back at him; he realized she was fighting sleep. "When I was kid," she began, her voice even more strained than before, "My father use to read me Green Eggs and Ham every night. I had it memorized in a week, but I still let him read it to me. I miss his voice…"

"I didn't know that. It was just my favorite book as a child."

She smiled and her eyes drifted shut. "Mine too."

He knew she was struggling to stay awake and he couldn't figure out why. "You should sleep," he urged.

Her eyes shot open and what he saw startled him. They glistened with tears and a fear he had never seen before. "Morgan," she choked out.

"Yeah?" he whispered, his voice nearly mirroring the break in hers.

"What if I don't wake up? I'm afraid I'll go to sleep and won't wake up," she admitted, crying softly. "I'm so afraid. God, I'm so afraid."

His hand found and then covered hers in the darkness, intertwining their fingers and holding on tight. "Then I won't wake with you."