Author's note: I started writing this chapter using Emily's slurred speech and it just was too much and too disjointed. So I tacked on the assumption that it was still slurry, but Derek could understand her and went with it. It flows much better.

I didn't think I was going to get this done until tomorrow, which would have been my longest ever without a chapter update! But mother nature decided to bestow some rain upon us parched Californians, so my Saturday of my sons' endless soccer games was canceled. :)


Emily didn't really remember that day she came back from London. She didn't remember about Savannah. She didn't remember the email he sent her. She didn't remember waking up two pilots and taking an Interpol jet in the middle of the night in order to beat him to Turner Field. She only remembered waking up in the car, seeing his face, and telling herself that she'd finally run to something good.

She didn't ask questions, just content to have the memory in her grasp. He made a decision to give her the memories when she asked or when it was vital, and be patient and let her remember the rest, however long it took. JJ had told him that Emily now knew about what was going on with Clyde in London, but Emily hadn't mentioned it to him. He got the sense that when she wasn't asking it was because it was too much for her to handle for the time being. No matter how difficult it was for him to not tell her everything about their life together, he was going to follow her lead.

He might have said more to her in that moment when she first said his name before he had a chance to think about it, but she leaned up on her left arm in the bed, and this time she gently brushed her lips across his. She tried to put her right hand on his cheek and she did, but it landed with an uncoordinated, heavy thunk.

"Sorry," she said quietly.

He was still stunned by her saying his name and the kiss and he felt like his heart was going to skip right out of his chest. "It's really no problem, Em. I didn't need that cheekbone anyway."

They both laughed at that. She leaned away from him and asked in the slurred voice he was starting to understand with clarity, "What do we normally do on a Saturday night?"

"Sometimes we hang out somewhere with the team if they're in town. Sometimes we go out to dinner. Sometimes we just get take out and watch a movie at home. Sometimes we go to the movies."

She surprised him again. "Can we go out?"

He raised his eyebrows, "To dinner? Are you sure you're up for that?"

"I want normal."

"There's a little Mexican restaurant we like about a block away. Do you think you can manage that? Actually, that doesn't matter. We can get a cab for a block if we need to."

Emily smiled. "Let's try."

She told him she wanted to shower and get ready. He stayed in the bathroom with her while she tried out the shower chair and new shower head in their bathroom. He sat on the toilet seat and kept his head down so she didn't feel like he was staring at her, but he couldn't help grinning.

She looked at him through the shower door at one point and asked, "Why are you smiling like that?"

"I'm just thinking about how fast you're going to be able to get ready now that you don't have hair. It's quite a relief."

She chuckled, and Derek was thankful they were back to the laughing part. It felt right.

"No, really. Why?" she said.

"Because you're home, because you remembered something important, because you said my name, because you're comfortable with me. Because you're alive." And she smiled back at him.

When she was done with her shower, he didn't help dry her off. Instead he put one towel on the toilet seat and handed her another towel. "I think you can manage it this way."

She looked gratefully at him, glad for an opportunity for independence. She managed reasonably well. He brought her robe to her and she got it on, but he had to help tie it.

"Now what?" she asked.

"Now I usually take a shower while you start getting ready. But I can do that in the guest bathroom."

"Normal," she said. "Besides this is unfair," as she gestured between him and herself.

He smiled, a little unsure. But if she wanted to see him, he wasn't going to tell her she couldn't. Or shouldn't. Hell, he didn't know anymore. All he knew is that it felt like he was anchoring her to their past that she didn't remember but wanted to, and she was anchoring him to a future he couldn't predict, but seemed like it was going to be okay.

He reached his arm forward and opened a drawer in their bathroom cabinet. "Your makeup arsenal," he said with a smirk.

Without a backwards glance, he stepped around her and started taking off his clothes. He turned on the water and stepped in the shower. And only when he was moderately concealed by the shower spray did he glance in her direction. She was facing the mirror, watching him in the reflection, a blush tinging her cheeks, mouth slightly opened, a small smile playing on her lips. He turned away from her so she couldn't see his face and grinned.

Eight days after he thought he lost her, and ended up getting her back with virtually none of her memories of him, she was still right there with him.


Emily was able to mostly get herself ready. It was slower without much use of her right hand, but manageable. Derek didn't help, except to hand her a bra already hooked so she could step into it. He felt her eyes on him when he was getting dressed.

"I think my days as your shower supervisor are over, Em. What do you think?"

She smiled and nodded. Independence was so important to her, and Derek knew if she was unable to be independent this would likely look much different; she'd be too frustrated to give much thought to anything else.

She sat on the edge of the bed and he stood in front of her. "I'll be your official bra hooker and scarf tier. Other than that, it seems like you've got this," he said as he wrapped and tied the scarf around her head. She leaned her head forward so it was resting against his stomach. He thought she might say something, but she didn't. He rubbed a hand gently on her back and then stepped back to look at her face, making sure she was okay, making sure she wasn't too exhausted already.

"Still want to go out?" he asked.

"Yep."

"OK, then. The name of the restaurant is Fernando's. The owner is named Carlos; he named the restaurant after his son. He's an elderly man and he thinks you walk on water. He absolutely loves it when you come in the restaurant and he's going to wonder what happened. Are you all right with that? We could drive someplace else if you want."

"Going to see people who know me sooner or later. Let's go."

She seemed determined and he grinned. He touched her cheek and said, "You just be sure to tell me if you're getting tired. Don't push yourself too much, OK?"

"Deal."


She managed the walk to the restaurant just fine, cane in her left hand, and right hand in his. After being cooped up in a hospital room for so long, she loved the cold, fresh air. She looked around and noticed the decorations in people's homes.

"Almost Christmas," she said.

"Yes," he said and there was a hint of sadness in that word. She glanced at him.

"Our first one?" she asked.

Derek took a deep breath and smiled, "At our home, yes, so we better make it a good one."

Though she didn't have much strength in her right hand, he felt her give his hand a little squeeze. "We will."

When they arrived at the restaurant, Carlos spotted them right away. "Emilia" he called out, but then looked at her scarf and cane and spoke to her in Spanish, concerned and obviously asking what had happened.

He saw Emily gesture to her head and start speaking in Spanish back, and Derek's eyes widened at the same time hers did. She stopped mid-sentence and looked at Derek.

The Spanish words had rolled from her mouth with no stuttering and no slurring at all. She laughed joyfully, and he did the same. She turned back to Carlos and finished answering his question. Carlos patted her shoulder and gave them both a caring smile.

"For you, the best table in the house," he said in English, so Derek could understand.

Once they were seated, Emily asked Derek, "How? Why?"

He placed his hand over hers. "I have no idea, Em. We can call Dr. Quon in the morning. Or Reid. He'd probably know. My guess is that you're accessing a different part of your brain when you're drawing up your other languages and the roadblocks from thought to speaking aren't there. It's fantastic, Emily. It means that you still have all of the muscles and movement necessary to speak clearly - it's just going to take time. But you're going to get there."

She smiled happily. It was the first time he'd seen her actually have that radiant look on her face, and it stayed there the whole meal. She ordered for them in Spanish. They talked Christmas, about getting a tree the next day, and buying decorations because he told her they really didn't have much. She didn't even look disgruntled at the slow process of feeding herself with her left hand, choosing enchiladas so she wouldn't have to use a knife. She smiled at him a lot. Her face glowed in the candlelight.

And Derek realized after they were done eating that he hadn't once thought about how her memory was gone the entire time they were there. He only thought about how absolutely in love with her he was.

Emily was sapped of her energy when they were done; it happened quickly, how she was energized and then visibly drooped. He could see it in her face, and in her body when she stood from the table. She accepted a hug goodbye from Carlos, and then looked at Derek, clearly exhausted. He wrapped an arm around her waist and walked her out of the restaurant.

It was eight o'clock on a Saturday night, but they got lucky and got a cab right away. When Derek told the driver he only wanted to go a block, the driver turned to look at Emily, at the scarf, at her face where it was gently resting against Derek's shoulder. He nodded and didn't turn on the meter, just drove them home.

His mom and Penelope were on their couch when they got there. Emily was leaning against him and he was helping her stay upright. She smiled at them and said very sloppily, "Dinner out. Good Spanish."

Fran and Penelope returned her smile, but looked at Derek curiously. "Let me just get her into bed and then I'll come back and explain."

He carried her upstairs and got her out of her clothes and into pajamas. He took off her scarf and glanced at her staples, just checking. In reality, he hardly noticed them or her shaved head when he looked at her anymore. Her eyes were barely open, but she gave him small smiles as he helped her. He pulled back the covers and got her settled in bed.

"Thank you," she managed to mumble.

"For dinner?" he asked.

"For you," she whispered.

Derek gently pressed his lips on her cheek and whispered in her ear, "I love you, Emily. Thank you for being you, too."


He went downstairs and explained to his mom and Penelope about dinner, and about how Emily could speak Spanish without any problems, how she'd remembered a piece of the day she came back from London, about what a wonderful night they had.

He went and got a few pieces of blank paper from the desk in the living room and taped them together.

"What are you doing?" asked Penelope.

"I want to give her a timeline, something she can fill in when she remembers something." And he got to work while they looked on, drawing a long line across the pages. He started in 2006 and ended at today. Then he went back and filled in the things she'd already remembered, giving her the dates, giving her something visual to look at because he thought it might help.

Fran put her arm around him and kissed his cheek while he was working. "You're a good man, my son."

Penelope leaned against his other side and said, "He's the best. I can get Emily the case files when she remembers a case of ours, if you think that would be good."

Derek nodded, "Yes, I think so, but I'll ask her. What are you doing tomorrow, Pen? You up for helping us get some Christmas decorations? She really wants a tree."

"Shopping!" said Penelope happily. Then she gave Derek a hug and got up to leave, saying she'd call in the morning.

It wasn't long after that that Derek headed to bed as well, just not wanting to be away from Emily that long. He hadn't talked to her about their sleeping arrangements, but she'd had no problem with him laying next to her in the hospital bed the past couple of nights, so he decided joining her in their bed was probably fine.

He dressed in sweats and a t-shirt and looked at her. She'd moved so she was almost in the middle of the bed, laying on her left side, and he chose to crawl in behind her. He laid on his left side as well, and tentatively and gently put his arm around her middle. He felt her stir slightly, and then he felt her hand touch his arm and her body scoot back closer to his. He smiled and held her a little more firmly.

Derek found some irony in the fact that the very thing that had gotten them to this point, her ability to compartmentalize and move in a forward path without letting herself get too overwhelmed, was the same thing that was a moving them forward together now. They both just needed to make sure she continued to be able to do that while dealing with everything she needed to deal with. He still marveled at how she was managing all of this.

Over Emily's shoulder, Derek could see the bag he'd had at the hospital on the floor of their bedroom. In that bag was her engagement ring that he'd picked up from the jewelers the day before, on his way back from Quantico. Though he'd gotten very emotional after picking up the ring, he got himself together before arriving back at the hospital. He felt confident that she'd be wearing it someday soon.

He wasn't sure if it was because she was so exhausted, or because she felt comfortable and safe in their home even though she didn't remember it - for whatever the reason, Emily didn't have a nightmare that night.