"I was so sorry to hear about Agent Morgan's accident. I – umm – I brought these," Declan said shyly, holding out a bouquet of flowers.

"Son..." Ian breathed when he caught sight of the boy. He approached as if to embrace the boy, but paused just short, just staring at him with a tenderness that seemed out of place on his grizzled face.

Derek was surprised to see the boy, surprised he'd thought to visit, given that they'd barely known each other. He supposed he shouldn't be all that surprised, considering that Emily had helped raise him – he always knew she'd be a good mother.

"That's very sweet," Emily said, stroking a hand over his messy blond curls with a maternal tenderness. "It would mean a lot to him that you're here, if he were awake."

"I had to come," he said with a shrug, as if he'd simply had no choice. "I wanted to pay my respect. He looked out for me, protected me when you couldn't. He was a good man."

"Is," Emily corrected softly.

"Is," Declan echoed.

There was silence for a long moment. "Did you want to see him?" she asked when it had stretched on for too long. She didn't technically have permission to enter his room, but she was beyond caring just then.

"I don't want to disturb him..."

"Please," she insisted, one hand on his shoulder, guiding him into the room. He hadn't had many visitors since the hearing – everyone seemed to be waiting for the outcome with bated breath, waiting to see whether they needed to say goodbye. She didn't want him to feel like he'd been forgotten. "The doctors say it's important for him to hear familiar voices."

"Yeah. Alright," he agreed slowly. "Just for a little while."

A heavy silence descended as Declan stared at Derek's unconscious form, trying to find something to say and failing. Emily didn't say anything either, just watched them, the two most important men in her life together for the first and possibly last time.

"He's going to get better, right?" Declan asked, shattering the brittle silence.

Emily's smile was tight, more for Declan's benefit than any real happiness. "The doctors don't know why he hasn't woken up," she admitted, "But his brain is healing and there's no reason why he shouldn't wake up at any time."

"You love him, don't you?" It was phrased like a question, but it wasn't.

"I don't... Really, I..." she sputtered, taken aback. Words failed her and she just shook her head.

"I can see it in your face," he insisted.

"I thought I did, for a long time, but things are different now, complicated... Even if I did, we're so far apart that it wouldn't work."

"You should tell him," he said, ignoring her attempt at reasoning out of her feelings.

"I don't know..." she started to argue.

He cut her off. "Tell him. I loved my father, but when I had the chance to tell him, it was too late. I'd give anything to be able to tell him."

She stared at him sadly for a long time. She reached out a hand and rested it gently on his cheek. "You've grown up to be such an intelligent, kind young man. I'm so proud of you."

"Do you think my father would have been proud?"

"Of course," she said, still wearing that sad smile.

"I'm so proud of you, son," Ian murmured in agreement.

"How a kid like that came from a guy like you, I'll never understand," Derek said, shaking his head, interrupting the moment.

"He's a good boy," Ian said defensively.

"And you're a bastard," Derek snapped.

Ian chuckled, even though it wasn't funny. "Do you want to know why I'm here?"

"Not particularly."

"My son," he told him anyway. "I may not have been a good man or even a good father, but my son loved me. As I lay dying, he reached for my hand and told me he remembered me. He prayed for me in that moment, for my soul – his prayers saved me from whatever fate awaited me. By his grace, I was granted a second chance. That's why I'm here, with her. I have a debt to repay."

"A debt?" Derek echoed skeptically. "You killed her. How can you possibly make up for that?" If it were up to him, Ian Doyle would be roasting in Hell for what he'd done to Emily.

"By giving her the one thing she wants more than anything."

"And what's that?"

"You. Bringing you back to life should make up for taking hers, no matter how briefly."

"And how exactly do you plan on doing that?" Derek scoffed. He had no idea how Doyle intended to accomplish what he hadn't been able to do in three months.

Ian pushed him sharply in the chest, causing him to stumble backwards, unprepared for the sudden onslaught. "Why are you stuck here?" he demanded.

"What are you doing!?" Derek asked, incredulous.

"Why are you stuck here?" he asked again, pushing him hard a second time.

"Well, I'm not a neurologist, so that's not really my area of expertise," Derek said sarcastically.

"That's not an answer." He jabbed him sharply in the chest. "If you don't wake up, what happens?"

"I guess I stay here until my body dies," Derek said, shrugging, trying to dodge his hands.

"And how does that make you feel?"

Derek rolled his eyes. "You're a terrorist, not a fucking shrink."

"Come on, Agent Morgan, say it."

"Like...like this isn't a life! Like I can't do anything – I can't even change these clothes!"

"How does that make you feel?" he asked again.

"Scared!" he shouted, "Okay!? Angry. Terrified. Like I've been cheated. Like it's a big cosmic joke!"

"So, why won't you wake up?"

"Because I have a traumatic brain injury." He gestured at his head for emphasis.

"That is not an answer. Why won't you wake up?" Ian shoved him hard.

"Because..." he snapped.

"Because why?"

"Because!"

"Just say it." Shove. "You're on the verge of saying it." Shove. "Why won't you wake up?"

"Because I don't want to wake up!" Derek burst out. Then, quieter, "That makes no sense."

Ian looked entirely too smug. "You have everything to live for on the physical plane..." He gestured emphatically at Emily, "But you don't want to wake up. Why?"

He shook his head. "That's the thing – I want to wake up more than anything."

"So, then what's stopping you? What are you afraid of?"