Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, Criminal Minds.

Reunion

By
N. J. Borba

The train jostled beneath Derek's feet as Emily broke free from him and stepped in to the path of a bullet.

Even in her weakened state there wasn't enough time to stop her.

Derek hadn't known what to expect of his cross-Europe journey with Tasha and Easter. He hadn't really thought it through. He'd just been reacting to the need to find Emily. All he'd hoped was to find her alive, figuring they could deal with any aftermath as long as she survived. He certainly hadn't planned to jump on and off a dozen trains. Nor had he imagined finding Emily just in time to pull her safely away from a burning train car. But at least he'd found her alive.

It was unfortunate that he hadn't been able to keep her out of harm's way for more than a few minutes.

"Emily?" he called out, rushing to her side as she dropped to the floor behind a bank of seats. They provided nice cover as several more shots rang out.

People screamed and cowered between the seats. Derek was thankful the train wasn't too terribly populated. But there were still far too many innocent lives at risk. And yet, all he could think about was Emily's safety as he stared down at the blood beginning to cover her ragged dress. A part of him hated that he'd become so dependent on her to create happiness in his life. For years he'd been content to go it alone, serve and protect, putting his life on the line for anyone. Now he was compromised by his unwavering love for her.

It took most of his willpower not to attack the men shooting at them with his bare fists.

But Derek knew she needed him alive.

"Where's the wound?" he looked to Tasha who had crouched down and was helping to keep Emily cradled in a seated position between them. Easter was also squatted nearby, laying down cover fire since he was the only one with a weapon.

"Not sure," Tasha wasn't afraid to get her hands bloody as she searched for the source of Emily's gunshot wound. The woman had just taken a bullet for her, leaving Tasha partially shocked. But she pushed past that emotion and discovered the source of the blood. "Her left shoulder."

"Can you find an exit wound?" Derek asked, slightly more at ease to know it wasn't a chest shot.

Emily groaned; her eyes half open as Tasha turned her shoulder. "I'm fine," her weak voice croaked.

"I don't think so," Tasha replied, her words an equal response to Derek's question and Emily's groggy declaration. "This is very much out of my skinned knee bandaging area of expertise," Tasha added with a shaky breath. "She needs a doctor."

"No kidding," Derek mumbled as he made eye contact with Emily. "Hang on," he whispered to her over the sound of another few shots and more screaming. He gritted his teeth and aimed a glare at Easter. "We need to get her medical assistance," he told the man.

"I'm fine," Emily repeated.

Easter held his position, glancing over his shoulder to observe the small group of people he was trying to protect. "Yes, I gather that," he responded to Derek. "But I have three bullets left and there are at least two men on either side of us with guns. How exactly do you propose we…" his words trailed off as the train began to slow noticeably. "I'd say we've reached St. Petersburg," Easter craned his neck to peer out the nearest window. "Though it's not any kind of major port I recognize."

"A route they designed away from the general population," Morgan guessed. "Probably about to make a transfer," he sighed, feeling utterly helpless in a foreign country where he didn't know the language let alone the proper police procedure. "Do you have any kind of jurisdiction here?" he asked of Easter, still rather uncertain of the man's role within Interpol.

With a grimace, Easter replied hesitantly, "Some…" he revealed. "Technically I still have to go through proper channels like anyone else, which could mean a lot of red tape and bureaucracy. Certainly not enough time to stop them all from leaving right now, and get Emily medical help. I can't even guarantee these guys will obey official law around here. They're rebels, in case you hadn't already gathered that."

"Shouldn't you have thought about all that before joining us on this mission?" Derek growled, still focusing on the woman he loved who was in a state of half-consciousness. "Hey, Emily, you gotta stay with me okay? Talk to me," he practically begged, flashbacks to Doyle and the Boston warehouse plaguing his mind.

"I'm fine," her words were slurred.

"What should I have thought about, agent Morgan?" Easter was growing a bit perturbed, "The fact that these thugs will pay no attention to proper authority or the fact that this isn't even a proper mission? Neither is exactly within my ability to control. I never planned to join this little field trip in the first place."

Derek was growing angrier, unable to control the situation. "Then why did you?"

"As I recall," Easter paused to observe the train's activity for a moment. "You said I could either get out of your way or help you. All I'm trying to do is help."

That realization hit Derek in the stomach like a sucker punch. It was the reality check he needed. He realized there was no way he and Tasha would've gotten even half the distance to Emily's location without Easter's help. "I'm sorry…" the words were difficult for him to admit as his focus returned to Emily.

She gripped his arm. "I was in the elevator… then they… then I beat Reid…" Emily mumbled.

Morgan's worry doubled as she spoke in confusing stings of words. "Reid? What do you mean you beat Reid?"

"At cards, remember…" there was a faint hint of a smile on her face. "…and Han Solo was there in the Falcon…"

Tasha's eyes were filled with concern. "She's not making much sense."

"Because she'd been drugged," Easter responded.

"What?" Derek's brow bunched tightly.

"Look at her pupils, and more importantly; her arms," Easter called over his shoulder, "I noticed the puncture wounds the first time I saw her. Check her shoulders and neck, you'll probably find more. How do you think they got her out of Interpol headquarters in London? Or on to this train," he returned focus to the aft gunman.

Derek had been too clouded with worry earlier to see it, but Easter was right. Judging from her appearance and behavior, Emily had clearly been subdued by a plethora of drugs. "She must have fought pretty hard to have gotten free from these guys," Morgan squeezed her hand, hoping to reassure her that he was there.

"Emily is very tenacious," Easter responded as he watched a gunman checking the door between train cars. "One of the many reasons I wanted her in London. But the gunshot wound and blood loss isn't helping her at the moment. Although with that amount of drugs in her system she's probably not feeling much pain."

As if on cue, Emily spoke up again, "I'm fine," she insisted.

"Well, we are most definitely not," Easter replied as the train grew deathly quiet. "We need to get off this train, now," there was great urgency in his tone.

Instantly alarmed by Easter's tone, Derek stood, leaving Emily for a moment in Tasha's care. He swiftly surveyed the area and realized all of the passengers had exited in a rapid manner. "Where did they go?" he asked. "And…" he glanced around again and noticed something even more disturbing. "All of the bullet holes are above us," Morgan caught Easter's eye in time to watch the man nod his agreement. "These seats are vinyl and wood. They could've easily shot through them."

"Obviously they were not trying hard to hit us," Easter deducted.

"Just trying to keep us subdued," Morgan realized. "While they ushered off all the passengers in a hurry… you're right, we need to get off this train right now," he swooped down and lifted Emily into his arms with little effort. "Come on," he said to Tasha, though the woman was smart enough to already be on her feet and moving quickly through the main aisle.

Morgan, with Emily tightly in his embrace, followed Tasha while Easter took up position behind them. They worked their way through three train cars before they found an exit that wasn't locked or blocked. Once they were safely on the platform, Easter found them a place to take cover. They all crouched down and huddled behind the rather flimsy plywood wind-block wall and waited. They waited nearly two minutes before Derek's head popped up to check the train.

"Maybe we were just being para…"

The jolt of an explosion halted any further words.

Emily's earlier blast on the train was nothing compared to the continuous flash and boom that sounded behind them. Derek turned away as glass windows shattered all along the train. The large and tiny shards went flying over their supposed safety wall, raining down on them. Thankfully, with their backs turned toward the blast and their heads down, the glass pieces did little damage. Nothing more than a few surface scratches here and there on their necks and arms.

When the initial explosions finally died down, Derek looked to Easter and finished his previous thought, "Or maybe not paranoid."

Clyde chuckled for a second, but he immediately grew serious again. "That was certainly meant for us. We need to figure out where these bastards are headed from here and…"

"Over there," Morgan pointed as he helped Emily to her feet. She leaned against his left side and Tasha's right. "That man," Derek watched at the person in question ducked his head and tried to look nonchalant. "Black trench coat, black and white scarf, stocking cap. He was on the train that just exploded."

"You're sure?" Easter checked for clarification.

"Positive," Derek insisted. "I think we need to have a chat with him."

"Let's go," Easter agreed.

Morgan reluctantly left Emily with Tasha as he and Clyde began to follow the trench coat man. "Excuse me, sir?" Derek spoke. "Do you speak English? I'm afraid my friends and I are a bit lost and we could really use some directions if you'd be so kind?" The man did not respond, though he did not run away either. Easter used the tiny bit of Russian that he knew but the man still didn't reply. He simply kept walking. "Time to do this the hard way," Derek sighed.

He and Easter caught up to the man, matched his step and flanked him on both sides. Resisting the urge to flash his gun, Easter followed Derek's slightly more peaceful approach. They each took hold of an arm and carted the man a short distance to a bench where they all sat. "Now, either you speak English or Russian," Morgan declared. "But you will speak to us."

"I have nothing to say to you," the man's English was heavily accented.

Chilly wind whistled softly through the mostly empty train platform.

"Why were you on that train?" Derek paid no attention to his declaration. "Do you know the men responsible for what happened back there? Do you know where they're taking their prisoners? Do you have any idea what goes on aboard that train as it travels across Europe?"

The man remained silent for a short time before his shoulders sagged. "I knew it would end," he lamented. "I look for good job for many years to take care of my family - my wife and three children, my aging parents. At unconventional agency I meet two men who say to me, you only have to ride this train and we pay you for it. So I ride almost every day, so few days to be with my family. Mostly I ride the train from Paris to St. Petersburg, over and over. Money is put in my account. I ask no questions."

"Has the train ever exploded like that before?" Easter inquired.

"Once or twice," the man nodded. "But I have only worked six months riding."

"In six months this is possibly the second time a whole line of rail cars has exploded?" Derek's head shook in disbelief. "And what do the police think about that?"

The man looked reluctant to say anything more, but finally gave in. "The police are easily paid to not think. That is all I say to you. I know nothing more. Let me go now. My family needs me, and now I need new job."

Derek let go of the man. "They were paying people to be on that train and they had Emily. So why did they let us on? To keep us close," he answered himself, "They didn't want to arouse suspicion, thought they could keep us out of their business."

"Or wanted to kill us all along," Easter added his thoughts to the mix as they walked back to where they'd left Tasha and Emily.

"What did you find out?" Tasha asked. "Did that man have anything to say? You should have taken me, I speak Russian. Isn't that the whole point of me being here?"

"He spoke," Morgan relayed. "But he didn't have any names to give us."

"How about the name, Dominick Ziven," Tasha looked to the men, eyeing one and then the other. Finally she brandished a folded piece of paper. "I just found this in the pocket of Emily's dress. It has the name Dominick Ziven on it and a place, Lake Ladoga. It is just north of here."

"You just happened to find this note in her pocket?" Derek was instantly suspicious.

"Smells like a trap," Easter agreed.

Morgan frowned as his thoughts turned quickly. "Or maybe not. I think those men on the train were sure we'd die in that explosion. So why plant a note in Emily's pocket to lure us to them?" He stood beside Emily and held her hand again. "How you doing?"

"You didn't explode?" she responded.

Derek shook his head, still a bit worried about her state of mind. "Not to my knowledge. I know I'm no Han Solo, but I think I came to your rescue all right."

"At least the Kardashians aren't with you," she smiled.

That got him to smile, too, and to believe her head was still in the game. "Nah," he whispered. "Outside of fantasy land I'm a one-woman man."

"Enough, you two," Easter rolled his eyes.

"I think it's sweet," Tasha grinned.

"You would," Clyde retorted. "How I got caught up in this band of merry men I will never know."

"If you hadn't shown up, we'd probably be dead or in some foreign prison by now," Derek noted, just short of his words being another thank you. He had more important issues pressing on his mind than stroking Easter's ego. "Emily, I need you to tell us what you remember about your trip here. Was there anyone on the train who tried to help you?"

She took a shaky breath. "Laren," Emily whispered as she faced her three friends. "A young woman I was in contact with on the train, she was the only one who showed me kindness. I thought she was working with the men responsible for all this, but she must have left this for me. I don't know who else would."

"So it could still be a trap," Easter concluded.

"You want a trap, mister? You just stepped in to one."

Derek and Easter turned at the sound of a male voice. They found a rather young pack of boys, three of them standing too close for comfort. They were clearly Russian born, but their English was quite good, which was more typical of the younger generation. Derek pegged them as thugs in a second, and he could tell Easter guessed the same. "You don't want to cause any trouble for us," Clyde spoke. "I'm an Interpol agent and my friend here is with the FBI in the states."

The lead boy had dark messy hair and smiled smugly. "I don't care who you are, as long as you hand over your money."

Easter was instantly bored with their antics and reached for the gun at the small of his back.

"No, no, no," the smiling boy tsked. "That's not how this works."

Morgan swore silently as four more young thugs stepped in from behind them. One boy easily disarmed Easter and held the gun to his head. Two of the new boys also carried weapons which they menacingly held at their sides. "Money," the lead boy seemed the only one willing or able to talk. "Wallets, cell phones and jewelry," he demanded. "Now."

With little choice, Derek blocked Emily from harm as he handed over his watch and wallet. Easter did the same. "And your phones, I said cell phones," the boy stopped smiling and nodded toward two of his friends. "Show them what I mean," he instructed with an annoyed sign.

The two boys patted down Derek and Easter, removing not only their cell phones but their passports as well. Then they took Tasha's cell and the money belt beneath her shirt. "You're lucky we are not the type to prey on the flesh of pretty ladies," the boy grinned as he whispered in Tasha's ear.

That was the final straw for Derek as he lunged toward the boy. Easter joined in, each of them getting off a few good punches before a warning shot rang out.

Within seconds the boys regrouped and retreated. An old pick up careened around the corner of the train platform to pick them up. The boys jumped into the back and it sped off before Derek or Clyde could bother to try stopping them. Morgan huffed as he examined the small cuts on his knuckles. "Did we really just survive an exploding train only to be mugged by a group of bothersome teenagers?"

"Welcome to Europe," Emily quipped.

"Where's the closest hospital?" Derek shifted topic a little as he watched Emily wince. Her go to defense was humor and sarcasm, but he could tell she was hurting. "You've lost a lot of blood." Worries about his bruised fists and the sudden lack of any form of identification took a back seat to her discomfort.

"A hospital will be tricky," Easter warned. "They'll ask too many questions."

"But she could die otherwise," Derek countered.

"I doubt it's a fatal wound," Easter glanced around the area and then met Tasha's gaze. "We're closer to the Neva than the motorway, aren't we?"

Tasha nodded.

Morgan was not amused by how Easter was ignoring him, seeming not to even care about their current predicament. "That's great, is there a hospital close to the river?" he asked. But even as the words left his mouth, Derek began to concentrate on something else entirely as he stared at the smoldering remains of the train. "Before we boarded that train I counted the number of cars at an even dozen, including the engine car. Now there only seem to be ten."

"And the engine is one of the missing two," Clyde confirmed. "Nice observation. They used the distraction of the explosion to detach, which means they're traveling further north-east."

"Most of the lesser used river ports are north of here," Tasha added.

Easter nodded. "And water travel can be a lot easier trail to cover."

"Meanwhile, Emily is still bleeding," Derek needlessly pointed out.

"We can't take her to a hospital," Easter reiterated. "I have a contact here, Jake Petrov. He's very good at procuring things," he looked down the railroad track to the north and then glanced over at Derek. "Petrov isn't far from here. We'll walk; Emily can make it that far. Once we get medical supplies I'll dig the slug out of her shoulder. Then Petrov gets us a boat and we get back to tracking Ziven."

Derek glared at the man for a moment, pretty much completely dependent on his word.

"He's right," Emily made the final decision for the group. "I've made it this far. I'm not giving up now," she insisted. "We need to stay on this trail before it goes completely cold again."

Seeing he was overruled, Morgan gave in, "Okay," He was glad to hear her clear headedness prevail, even though he figured they'd all be dead soon.

xxx

Petrov did not exude friendliness.

He stood by the door of his home with a brooding scowl. The place was an entire upper floor of a small factory building; industrial steel and glass, dark and not cozy or charming in the least. Added to the unwelcoming abode were three of Petrov's men. Each of them took position at the other three corners of the mostly open space. And each of them had a semi-automatic weapon either poised in their hands or slung across their backs. They also wore expressions ten times less friendly than Petrov.

Morgan was certain Jake Petrov, whatever his business was, and his men would just as soon kill them as help them. The only thing keeping that from happening seemed to be the man's honor. From what Derek, Emily and Tasha could conclude, Easter had saved Petrov's life several years ago and there was a debt owed. Derek hoped that debt included a boat rental of some sort before being considered repaid. For now, though, he was focused on Emily as Easter prepped to carve her up.

"I was a medic for a short time in the British Royal Navy," Clyde informed them as he swabbed Emily's arm with alcohol.

"Very reassuring," Morgan replied with a degree of doubt.

Emily lay on her back upon an old metal table, Derek at her right side squeezing her hand tight enough to break it. Her ratty dress had been torn even more to reveal her entire shoulder and the wound. Tasha had mopped away as much blood as she could with clean towels but it still bled intermittently. Morgan brushed a few wisps of sweaty hair away from Emily's forehead. "This will be over soon," he whispered to her. "And then we can go to Chicago like we planned, visit my mama for her birthday."

She forced a weak smile for him. "Sounds good."

"This is going to hurt," Easter was blunt with his warning as he began.

Tasha stood at the other end of the table. She had a basic sewing needle, plain white thread and a roll of clean bandages with adhesive medical tape, prepared for the aftermath of Easter's bullet extraction. "They do this all the time in movies," she smiled encouragingly for her old friend.

Even biting her lip could not stop the small whimper of pain to escape Emily's throat as Easter made his incision.

"Give her some of this," Petrov stepped toward the group, nudging Derek's shoulder with a bottle of vodka that was half drained.

Derek didn't wish to be impolite, but he was not about to give Emily anything Petrov and his men had probably slobbered all over. "Thank you, but," he figured the truth was the best cover. "She's been given a combination of drugs that we haven't identified yet. I don't want to risk mixing alcohol with them."

The man shrugged, took a swig of the vodka and stepped back to his guard post at the door.

It was hard for Derek to see Emily in pain. And she was watching the whole process as Easter did his best not to root around too much beneath the skin of her shoulder. Morgan knew she was a tough woman, but he also understood that she'd been through a hell of a lot the last few days, not to mention the past two years. "Hey, I almost forgot I have something for you," he did his best to distract her. Derek fished two objects out of his pocket and pressed them against her right palm.

Her eyes focused on the Scrabble tiles, trying hard to remember them. "These are from my grandfather's game?" Emily fondly recalled playing Scrabble with Derek in her flat the first time he'd come to visit her, unexpectedly. But thoughts of her flat caused inner turmoil. "There was a fire… you were inside."

"No," Morgan assured her. "I'm right here. How did you know about the fire at your place?"

"They showed me," the fogginess from her drugs was wearing off more and more, making the memories clearer. "The man on the train showed me footage of you entering the building and then of the flames. I didn't want to believe you were really gone."

He realized her abuse had not only been physical but psychological as well. Derek wondered when it would ever end. "He was just trying to break you."

"I know," she whispered, wincing again as Easter seemed to find the stubborn bullet at last. "Is… was Sergio inside when…"

Morgan's head shook as he squeezed her hand again, the letters pressing in to both their palms. "Sergio is fine. He's being very well looked after by Tasha's daughter, Elya," he assured her. "And when the heck did you outfit your cat with a mini spy camera?" he tried to change the subject a little. "That thing is seriously cool. Even Garcia was impressed."

A small smile graced her lips. "I've gotten paranoid in my old age."

"You're hardly an old lady," he kissed her forehead, allowing his lips to linger there for a while.

Emily closed her eyes and imagined they were together, alone, on some tropical island beach somewhere. White warm sand beneath their feet, hands clasped as they kicked at the salty teal ocean waves. Derek's lips pressed against hers as the sun beat down on them. But that happy vision didn't last long before reality reared its ugly head again. She opened her eyes and looked to her shoulder where Easter was stitching her up the best he could with limited supplies.

"What happened at my Interpol office?" she asked, looking from Easter to Derek for an answer. "They took me from the elevator and there was a fire there, too?"

Derek shared a brief look with Clyde, both of them knowing they had to tell her the truth. "It seems this Ziven guy and his men like explosives," Morgan sighed. "The offices were completely destroyed and six bodies were discovered. For a short time we believed one of them was you, but apparently two were members of the cleaning staff. One was a Russian criminal and the other three were…"

"Nancy, Mark and… Gus," she swallowed the lump in her throat, despondent over the loss of three more innocent lives in her wake. "They were working late on a case."

It was easy for Derek to see the turmoil sparked in her dark eyes. He knew she was thinking about her old Interpol team, those who Doyle had taken out one by one. And now she no doubt felt responsible for three more deaths. "This is not your fault, Jo," he whispered the sentiment in her ear. "These guys don't care who gets in their way."

She nodded, trying to take his words to heart as Easter finished the last stitch and tied it off. Tasha was right behind him, winding the bandage gauze around her shoulder. "It's not too tight, is it?" the kind woman asked. Emily shook her head.

Petrov walked toward the group again. "Here," he tossed some clothing and a bit of white cloth at Tasha. "Some better clothes for her to wear. And an old sheet," the man said. "You can cut up and make a sling, take the pressure off her shoulder," he offered with surprising tenderness in his deep voice.

"Thank you," Tasha replied as she and Derek began to help Emily redress.

The hulking Russian turned to Easter. "We have small boat for you. Martin…" he pointed to the dark-haired man to his right, "Will escort you to the dock. My Intel says that only one boat left the northern harbor dock within your timeline. Two level tour boat named: The Griffin. Not many boats out on lake this time of year. You'll be on your own out there. You know how to navigate?" Petrov inquired.

"We'll manage," Easter shook the man's hand. "We're even," he stated.

The other man nodded.

xxx

Derek shivered, rubbing his arms. He was not at all dressed properly for a gusty trip up the Neva River in mid-November.

The boat, true to Petrov's rough description, was rusty and chugged along at a pace just slightly faster than a snail. It had a snug lower compartment with an ancient hot plate and a dump-it-yourself toilet. But it did have two sleeping bunks with dusty mattresses, one of which was where they'd positioned Emily for the journey. Tasha came up from below and greeted the two men with smiles despite their predicament. "She is resting," the woman informed them.

"I guess that's something to be thankful for," Derek reasoned even as he let go a worried sigh. "Do you have any idea where we're going?" he aimed the question at Easter who resided at the controls. "You said boat travel is hard to track."

Clyde kept his eyes on the cloudy horizon. "I have found a boat on this very lake before; in a fog so thick you could slice it and serve it on toast."

Morgan shook his head at the man's vague answer, wondering yet again what Easter's role in Interpol was. "Look, I fully admit that I'm out of my comfort zone here, but if I was this deep in a case back home I'd have called for backup hours ago."

"Is that really true?" Easter wore a doubtful look. "I've done my homework on you, agent Morgan. You don't always play by the book, which actually makes you a good agent. I could even use a man like you," he said. "And I could call in half of Interpol right now if I wanted, even a whole army of CIA," he revealed, "But what would that do?"

It took only a moment for Derek to realize. "Alert Ziven," Derek guessed. "He got to Emily at the London office, which means he's got eyes everywhere. And the more bodies involved, the more innocent people who'll end up dead," he acknowledged. "They have weapons, drugs and human hostages, all of which they're probably not willing to give up without a serious fight. And they're not afraid to use explosives," Morgan concluded.

"To a different extreme, Ziven could find a way to hide out and we start all over," Clyde added.

Derek sighed. "I know one thing for sure. He's not going to give up until Emily is dead. So you be sure to let me know when I can help."

"You already have, agent Morgan," Easter assured, "Just by being persistent."

With a gracious nod to Easter and a small smile directed toward Tasha, Derek headed down below to the cramped quarters.

Emily stirred when she heard his footsteps. "Sorry," he spoke softly to her, settling on a wood bench beside the starboard bunk where she lay. Derek watched her eyes flutter open with some difficulty. "You should try to sleep some more. I really have no idea where we are, where we're headed or what we're going to encounter if and when we do arrive at Ziven's hiding place. But I'd say rest and clear heads would be a good thing to have on our side."

"I'm kinda hungry," she responded in a croaky voice.

He smiled. "That's actually one thing I can remedy," Derek jumped up and rummaged through a box he and Tasha had found aboard. "Apparently Petrov's men left us some granola bars and water. They're an odd bunch for sure." He sat back down and opened an oatmeal raisin bar for her before passing it over. "Go easy on that, I'm guessing it's the first thing you've eaten in a few days," he watched her nod. "How you feeling, other than being hungry?"

She shifted and sat up a little, resting her head against an icy cold porthole window carved in the hull. Lake water sloshed against the window and the boat swayed gently. "My shoulder aches, but surprisingly not as much as I'd anticipated. Maybe it's some of the residual drug effects. My head feels a lot clearer, too," Emily revealed before taking a small bite of the bar. "This is quite a feast. Our own little Thanksgiving," she tried to lighten the mood.

His bar was already half gone when he offered her some water. "You know Thanksgiving was last week, right?" Derek watched her sip the liquid.

"Yeah, of course," Emily managed a smile as she took another small bite and chewed it slowly. She knew he was covertly testing her memory. "Sergio and I celebrated with an ex-pat turkey sandwich meal," she looked him in the eye. "But I'm very thankful right now. Thankful for my life, and to be with you even if we have no idea what's ahead."

Derek let his fingers trail gently along her neck. "I'm sorry this reunion kinda sucks," he kissed her cheek as the boat continued to seesaw beneath them.

Emily finished her meal, settled back down and closed her eyes again.

He stayed with her as she drifted to sleep, holding her hand, kissing her palm. "Easter called it persistence, but I call it love," Derek whispered.

"Um," Tasha reluctantly announced her presence. "I'm sorry, didn't mean to intrude," she said. "Clyde mentioned it's going to be hours before we even reach the mouth of the lake. And it will be dark by then so he told me we should all try to rest. I can go back up, though, there's a bench there I can…"

"No," Derek interrupted her. "You can take the second sleep bunk," he insisted. She had already done way more than what he guessed Emily's mother had suggested, plus she had a child back home to worry about seeing again.

Tasha instantly settled on the bunk and closed her eyes, appreciative of the chance to relax a little even though she was worried about her daughter who she hadn't been able to contact in a while. "Thank you, Derek," she whispered before drifting off.

Morgan smiled but said nothing, wanting to keep the cabin as quiet as possible so both women could sleep. He examined the narrow bunk Emily was laying on before he climbed up and carefully wedged himself onto the mattress beside her, taking her in his arms. She instantly curled up against him, resting her head upon his shoulder. He pressed his lips against her temple, feeling the soft pulse beating beneath her skin.

"Sweet dreams," he whispered. "Tomorrow will undoubtedly prove to be difficult."

The End (but to be continued…)