Hey. Sorry for the delay. I wanted to update yesterday, but there was some problems with the site... Maybe it's just me. Anyways, here it is. Enjoy!

Chapter 25

Morgan was currently standing at the side of his bed, smiling to himself as he quietly watched Emily carefully pack his folded clothes into a suitcase. They both knew that if he were the one doing the packing, he would have just thrown everything into the suitcase, rather than stack them neatly as she was doing. In his mind's eye, he imagined Emily with a pregnant belly, in nesting mode, folding their laundry; a perfect serene, domestic image. He wanted to kneel down and propose to her right then and there, but didn't. He had promised her that that question wouldn't be in their game plan for awhile yet; a promise whose upholding was proving a lot more difficult than he had imagined. He shook his head and chuckled. Who would have thought that Derek Morgan, the reputed player, would be so eager to settle down with a woman? But then again, Emily Prentiss wasn't just any other woman.

"What's so funny?" Emily asked, looking up when she heard him chuckling.

"Nothing, I just remembered something..." he shrugged. "We ready to go?"

"Almost," she smiled.

As Emily finished the last of the packing and was zipping up the suitcase, her mother entered the room. "I see you're ready to go home," she commented, at a loss for what else to say.

"Yes, we are," Emily responded drily.

"How are you feeling?" the Ambassador asked, turning to Morgan.

"Better," he replied, smiling hesitantly, "Thanks for asking."

There was an awkward silence between them, one that was not unfamiliar to Emily and her mother. Emily sighed, breaking the silence, "Why are you here, Mother?"

"I came to apologize to Mr. Morgan."

"Apologize? That's new," Emily scoffed.

"Baby, don't do this," Morgan cautioned softly, "She's your mother."

"My mother?" she asked incredulously, turning back to Elizabeth Prentiss, "What kind of mother would use her daughter as a pawn just so she could further her career? What kind of mother would attempt to set up her daughter when she is already in a relationship with an amazing man?" The last sentence was glacial in its delivery, "What kind of mother are you?" She paused to take a breath, shaking with anger, her nails digging furrows into the skin of her palms. "You shouldn't just apologize, you should thank him! If it weren't for him, you'd be the one lying in the hospital!"

It was clear that the Ambassador was making an enormous effort to be civil, but this seemed to be foreign territory to her, so it came off as forced and ingenuine. "Emily, you have every right to be angry..."

Emily cut her off, "Oh, really? Well, I'm glad I have your permission."

"But please, just hear me out."

Morgan reached out to grab hold of Emily's hand, pulling her to sit down on the edge of the bed with him. He ran his thumb soothingly across her knuckles, hoping to calm her a little. While he didn't understand her pain, his relationship with his mother always having been the farthest thing from strained, he wanted Emily to at least be able to make peace with her mother. But, if it came down to it, he vowed that he would hate the Ambassador too, just to support the woman he loved.

Though, he supposed that whether Emily and her mother could patch things up or not, it didn't really matter to him. The way he saw it, either way he stood to win; if the Ambassador didn't like him, it would only make Emily like him more, purely in the interest of rebellion, while if she decided she did like him, Emily would probably marry him on the spot, being so astonished that she had managed to do something right for once.

He struggled not to smile at that thought, not wanting anyone to get the wrong idea. Turning to Elizabeth, he gave a slight nod, indicating that she should continue. She gave him a small smile of gratitude; if it weren't for him mediating, this conversation would likely have been over before it began.

"I know, it was terribly insensitive of me to try to interfere when you are in a committed relationship and I'm sorry. I certainly didn't mean to cause a rift between the two of you."

Immediately, he sensed Emily starting to get angry again. "That's exactly what you were trying to do! Just like every other important function you invite me too; it's all about your self-serving attempts to change the way I tarnish your image!" He tightened his grip on her hand, giving her a pleading look.

"Okay, I'll admit that originally that may have been my plan, but if I had known how happy you were together, I would never have tried anything of the sort..." Emily gave a disbelieving scoff, rolling her eyes. "I certainly never thought that anyone would get hurt," Elizabeth continued on unfazed; she was used to this kind of reaction from her daughter. "Please believe that that was the last thing I wanted."

Emily was getting tired of the pleading, certain that she was only saying what she knew to be social construct in such a situation, and that she didn't actually mean a word of it. "What do you want from us, Mother?"

"I'd like your forgiveness," she said honestly, adding, "But I don't expect it."

Emily wasn't sure if that was intended as a jab or if it had wrongly come off as one. Either way, she didn't have to consider her answer. "Well, I don't forgive you," she said acidly, "I could have lost the best thing that ever happened to me because of you." She stared her down for several seconds, the fiery anger burning in her eyes a sharp contrast to her icy tone. At length, she added, "But I'm not the one you should be begging to forgive you, I'm not the one who got shot protecting you..." With that, she stormed from the room, clearly on the verge of tears.

There was an extended awkward silence after she left, neither Elizabeth nor Morgan entirely sure on how to proceed. It was Morgan that eventually broke the silence, quietly saying, "I forgive you."

"Why? If anyone in the world deserves to hate me, it's you..."

"What happened wasn't your fault," he answered simply.

"Emily doesn't seem to think so..."

"She'll come around, just give her time to get over the shock."

Again there was silence, during which she seemed to take in the sight of his injured shoulder, thick with layered bandages, held up in a sling. "Why did you do it?"

"What?"

"I was horrible to you, but you still took a bullet for me... You could have died. Why would you do that?"

"It's not up to me to decide who should and shouldn't get hurt," he said matter-of-factly, "I can't let past indiscretions stand in the way of second chances... We've got a chance to make things right, to start over." He looked her in the eyes, completely serious, hoping that she was taking his words to heart. "No matter how it might seem, I know Emily doesn't want to lose you. And I want our children to have a relationship with both of their grandmothers."

Then, he did something bold, feeling like the situation necessitated it. He stood and crossed the few feet between them, pulling her into a hug with his one good arm.

She smiled gratefully when he released her. "I'm sorry," she said, "I was wrong about you... Emily's lucky to have you."

He smiled and shook his head. "No, she's not the lucky one..."

******

There was something in the distance between the two of them that night, that lead Morgan to feel that something was wrong, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. Her responses to him were curt and clipped, when he reached out to grasp her hand, for any contact, she'd pull away. He didn't want to pressure her to talk about it, but he was worried that it might have something to do with their run in with her mother. Quietly, he asked, "Baby, what's wrong?"

"Why does it always have to be you?"

"What?"

It had been bugging her since they had gotten to the hospital, since she had had seemingly endless hours waiting by his side for him to wake up, endless hours in which she had been stewing in her own thoughts. She had been intending to chew him out once he regained consciousness, but just hadn't had the heart to be angry with him until she was sure that he was going to be okay. "Why do you always have to be the hero?"

"I don't always have to be the hero..."

"Yes, you do. You're always the one kicking down doors, not knowing what's on the other side; you're always the one tackling unsubs... You chased a guy along the top of a moving train for God's sake! And that's the job, I understand that, I've been in my share of danger too... But then you feel the need to tackle an agitated, armed hostage taker to save someone who doesn't even like you! What are you trying to prove?"

That, he hadn't been expecting. She knew that that was who he was and it had never been an issue before; he had to wonder if there wasn't something larger at play. "Em, I'm sorry if I scared you, but we both know that that's just who I am..."

Tears had started to sparkle in her eyes when she turned to look at him. "What happens later? What happens when we get married, when we have kids? Are you still going to feel the need to prove something? Because next time you might not be so lucky... Next time it might not just be a bullet, next time it might not just be your shoulder, next time it might not be the hospital where you end up... What then? How am I supposed to raise our kids on my own? How do I explain why Daddy won't be coming home? How am I supposed to go on without you?" She restlessly ran a hand through her hair, then used the heel of her hand to brush the tears from her face.

"Sweetheart," he said gently, "I think you're getting a little ahead of yourself..."

He moved to pull her into his arms, but she quickly took a step back and held up a hand to stop him. "Please, just don't..." Brushing away another tear, she added, "I made up the bed in the guest room for you." And then she left him alone in the kitchen; he could hear her gentle sobs until the bedroom door snapped shut behind her.

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