A/N: Hello everyone! Goodness, goodness. I AM SO SORRY Y'ALL. I meant to have this up with in the week, but then I got stumped with some writer's block stuff, and then I was tweaking A LOT, because I wanted these chapter to be good. Good for you to read, and good for me. I've had high expectations for this portion of the story specifically for soooo long. So. Thank you for being ever so patient. I appreciate it. Happy reading! xoxo

The Bathroom

MM/DD/YYYY

00:00 AM

18 Hours Left

Emily took a long gaze at her reflection. The crumpled bed sheet she'd snuggly tied onto her body had started to come loose, her hair a wild mess from where she'd constantly been running her hands through it, her makeup was running, and her eyes were red from where she'd been crying. Never had she ever seen herself look so out of sorts. If she weren't so taxed, she might've laughed.

The brunette snatched a tissue from the box on the sink, and wiped at her face, now blotchy and puffy. For the past 30 minutes, she'd been locked away in this bathroom and was trying— desperately trying to bury everything. The hurt, the unusual sense of pain, the anger. She wasn't a person who had trouble concealing her emotions. In fact, after years of practice it had become a natural instinct. But the longer she was isolated in this hell hole, accomplishing that task kept proving harder and harder.

Morgan had said some things that were grating, infuriating. And some things that, while not entirely untrue, were hurtful. But what was she so upset about? On any other occasion, she would've been able to go toe-to-toe with him. This time she couldn't bite back.

She pressed her hands onto the granite sink. Perhaps it wasn't that she couldn't bite back, but that she just didn't want to.

She didn't want to fight with him anymore. Especially, if it was going to hurt this much each time afterwards. Though, she did feel strongly that there was something about being trapped, alone with her thoughts, and alone with a person who she suddenly couldn't depend on that just — broke her.

Emily bit down on her lip to stop it from quivering as fresh tears formed in her eyes. She felt like she couldn't depend on him. How awful. In the moment, it was the worst thing she ever let herself think.

Always, she trusted Morgan. They balanced each other. That was part of who they were. Leaning on each other — no matter what the circumstance, was something she could always count on. She'd been fighting to maintain that aspect of their friendship since she returned, and even since the week began. But they were both failing miserably.

It only took two days of poor communication to undo months of restoration, to destroy the very specific kind of love, trust, and appreciation they had for each other. Every interaction kept exploding their faces. And she was beginning to wonder if this was the universe's way of telling her it was time to stop. If it was giving her reason to just… let him go.

She was leaving, moving to an entirely new country. It wouldn't be so hard.

But even if she thought she could follow through, an incessant little voice inside her head was always there to nag and remind her that, maybe, she wanted him. Not just as a friend, but as something else. What exactly that something else was, she didn't know. And she refused to let the idea fully take up residence in her mind. As his partner and 6 years his platonic friend, she needed to carefully quiet that voice to a point where it couldn't hurt her or their friendship.

Just then, she heard a knock at the bathroom door.

"Emily?" She heard Morgan's voice, his tone even, but urgent,"Hey, I think you should come out here for a second."

Prentiss leaned her head back, and groaned quietly. She wasn't ready to face him.

Never mind how she looked, she just didn't have the energy to engage with him. Nor the desire to put herself in a situation that might do more harm than good to the last thread of her morale. Right then, she wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball, and fall asleep on the bathroom tile. Only, she didn't know how to tell him that without inviting any unwanted concern. So, in response to him, she simply pulled open the door.

Sticking her head out of the small cracked opening, she saw him standing there. He looked drawn, and distressed. More so than when she had left him half hour ago. A worrisome look immediately formed across his face when he saw her's.

"Hey…" He said softly.

"Hey." She replied, her voice sounding more hoarse than she expected.

Morgan inhaled deeply,"You…you doing okay?"

The brunette shook her head as she ran her tongue over her bottom lip,"Not really…"

"Emily…" He started, a sadness filling his voice,"Tell me what to say."

She lifted her shoulders in a imperceptible shrug, "I don't think you have to say anything…"

Morgan bobbed his head in acknowledgment, but not in acceptance. Clearly, he hadn't planned on saying much about what happened, but now, just seeing her, he felt like he had to.

"I think I should…" He said, "Say something, that is. Because I hate that I said what I said. And not just earlier, but everything I've said, or done over the past few days. I want to apologize."

Emily bit the inside of her cheek. Hearing him speak provoked all the emotions she tried to bury. Along with the things he said and how he said them, they came rushing back to her, and sat boldly at the forefront of her mind. She shifted in the doorway, and cast her gaze to the ground, attempting again, to hide from him the unwelcome tears welling up in her eyes.

And as much as she wanted to close the door and stay away from him for the next couple hours, it was a small curiosity and an incurable need for reconciliation that encouraged her to keep listening.

"Go ahead." She whispered.

"I'm sorry." He admitted,"There's a lot that's been going on with me. And I've been afraid to talk about it. Especially with you. But that's no excuse. You deserve a lot better. And if you can't forgive me, that's okay. I actually wouldn't expect you to… but Emily?"

She looked up from the floor when she heard his voice crack. Absolute anguish and regret covering his whole being, "Yea, Derek?"

"I do care about you," He confessed, "And I think you need to at least know that… because I've done a really poor job at showing you that lately."

Emily breathed, her heart thumping heavy in her chest. His words put her at a loss for words of her own. He looked so small, helpless, almost like he might break if he even blinked. Looking in his face, she noticed the tiniest glimmer of water in his eyes, mirroring her own, and that's when he began to turn away.

But before he could fully pivot, Prentiss quickly crossed the threshold between them, and crashed into him with an unambiguous hug.

She could tell by the way he stood frozen in her embrace, he was stunned. Hell, she was stunned herself. Maybe it wasn't a sign of regained trust or total forgiveness, but it was step in the right direction. It felt right to just hold him, because she was grateful to him for being honest. For showing her a glimpse of the Derek Morgan she appreciated the most.

It wasn't long before his shock subsided and he reciprocated her hug by enveloping her in his strong arms. She rested her head on his chest and pulled him so closer. She wanted to pull him right through her, but found herself content to revel in how solid he was, in how much he felt like home.

After a moment, the brunette pulled back, retreating into herself a little bit, slightly embarrassed by her own display of affection. She wiped away the droplets on her face,"Why, uh, why did you want me to come out here?" She asked, eager to take some of the attention off herself.

Morgan raised his eyebrows. Still a little dazed, he spoke,"Um. Well, we got ourselves 3 course dinner."

Emily looked at him in utter confusion. Morgan smirked. In response, he gestured for her to follow him. They walked from the bathroom entryway to the table in the main room, and that's when she saw it.

A tray with three distinct meals arranged on three distinct plates. The first plate had bread topped with sautéed tomatoes and balsamic vinaigrette. The second dish was a special arrangement of roast chicken and a hot bowl of soup. And the last plate, dessert, was a slice of chocolate cake generously smothered in fudge and whipped cream.

"Where did this come from, and why does it have to look so good." Prentiss said, her stomach growling as she eyed the three plates. They hadn't eaten real food in so many hours, but it was only then that she realized how hungry she was.

"They slid it through an opening in the baseboard by the door over there." Morgan said.

"The unsubs?" She asked,"You saw them?"

He shook his head,"I didn't see them, but— you didn't hear?"

Emily frowned,"Hear what?"

"Before they sent it, they quoted a bible verse over the intercom and everything."

"Well, do you remember what they said?"

"Isaiah one nineteen." Morgan recalled,"If ye be willing and obedient, ye shall eat the good of the land."

"Willing and obedient?" Prentiss scoffed, "So by giving us food, I have to assume that's meant to encourage us to do what they want."

The man nodded,"They also said something along the lines of: Adam and Eve were free to eat from trees in the garden, so we are also free to eat what they provide."

"Adam and Eve…" She mused,"They mentioned them earlier."

"Well, they are one of the most revered figures in the Bible— supposedly, the first married couple."

"Okay, Reid." She teased him for the way he was spouting out facts and reciting verses from memory, "You know, we considered an emphasis on the institution of marriage, but hardly ever considered religious affiliation."

"No, but it makes sense though." He offered,"The church also places special emphasis on marriage. Not to mention having children within the context of it."

Emily nodded vacantly, her focus shifting back to the food on the plates,"You think it's safe to eat?"

Morgan shrugged, "If they knock us out with some poison or something again, then we obviously can't meet their request. But, uh,… there's only one way to really find out."

Without wasting another second, the man made a move towards the plates. Scooping up one of the provided forks, he stabbed a piece of chicken, and jammed it into his mouth. As he chewed vigorously, Prentiss watched with expectancy, waiting for a verdict.

"You know," Morgan spoke between chews,"I'm usually a beef and steak kind of guy, but this is actually alright."

"Yea?"

"Yea." he assured her. Then, just as quick as he had grabbed himself a fork and a bite, he did the same for her, handing her the utensil,"Try it."

She took the fork from him gingerly. None of it made sense. She was skeptical. Why would the unsubs just give them food? Why give them forks to eat with, when those could easily be weapons? Her agent intuition pestered her in the slightest, but the hollowing ache in stomach took reign over her choices. She was too hungry to even want to think about the consequences. So, Emily took a bite and chewed with appreciation.

"Hail Mary." She moaned.

Playfully shocked, Morgan took a stepped back, "Whoa whoa now. We're eating here, not asking for purity. Mellow out, Saint Prentiss."

Emily threw her head back in laughter,"Why does it surprise me that you know a little bit about Catholic tradition?"

"Because you think I was raised baptist and don't know shit about all the ceremonial stuff Catholics have to do," He said, pointing in her direction with his fork,"But you forget who my mama is. For a while, I went to church with her every Sunday— and it wasn't no gospel sanctuary either."

"Well, Father Morgan," She said, her hands raised as she mockingly bowed to him,"I apologize."

"Leave me alone, I'm gonna try this fancy bread."

"It's called bruschetta." She corrected him.

Morgan scrunched his face,"Broo-shut-up."

Emily rolled her eyes,"This is why Rossi is reluctant to have you over for dinner's at his house anymore."

"Hey!" he spat excitedly through munches,"I do what I can to make an evening interesting."

"Mm-hmm, sure." She smirked, "Like the time you thought to bring punch to the 4th of July party, but "forgot" to tell everyone it was a heavy mix of twelve different liquors?"

Morgan chuckled,"You cannot deny that was the best Independence Day party you've ever attended."

"Reid was out of work, throwing up for 3 days after that!" She cried.

"I took care of him, didn't I?"

"I did!" She reminded him,"You sent him flowers and box of Tums."

Morgan burst with laughter, and she shook her head at him. Though, even as she tried to hold it back, a smile broke across her face. She laughed with him as he further dissolved into a cackling fit, the memory amusing him greatly. This was good. This was them. And although she learned not to get too comfortable with it too quickly, for the time being, they were healed.

The food barely lasted them 5 minutes. After the first few bites, and a small conversation about how the provision of food was more likely meant to be an aphrodisiac than a drug laced meal, the two finished off the soup, meat, and the cake. They were so starved that, when they were done, there were hardly anything scraps left on the plates.

However, once the moment they shared over their meal was over, the gravity and reality of their circumstance resettled. The clock was still counting down, and waiting was getting tedious. They had their profile, but what good was it really if the unsubs refused to reveal themselves physically?

The minutes went by slowly and the two gradually preoccupied themselves with anything but each other. Morgan stayed on the left side of the room, sitting on the floor with his back resting on the bed frame. He traced images into the plush carpets and, every so often, he would stand up to flex and stretch his muscles.

Emily stayed trained to the right side of the room with the table, the empty plates, and the plastic candle centerpiece. For the most part, she methodically picked at her finger nails and rhythmically tapped her foot while she stared at floor.

After an hour dragged by, she stood up, deciding to return to the bathroom. This time, without the intent of locking herself away for another 30 minutes, she went to take a drink of water from the sink. Then for privacy reasons, she closed the door to answer the call of nature.

Cleaning her hands and concluding her visit, she reached for the doorknob. But instead of having a chance to open the door and renter the room as casually as she had left it, she found Morgan stumbling into her and knocking her over. Evidently, he had been leaning on the door and lost his balance, but ultimately, it resulted in both of them being entangled on the floor.

Emily started to jostle around, trying to get back onto her feet. She was spouting a slew random things, rambling on about how stupid he was for standing there— not to mention rude, but her lips and person were paralyzed as she soon realized why her efforts to stand up were being stunted.

Morgan was just lying there on top of her, still as ever, transfixed. His eyes were lingering, wanting eagerly to meet hers, and when they did, his gaze made her stomach drop. His dark eyes were burning with want and adoration.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and her chest began to rise and fall physical neutrality she was trying to maintain started to slip as her body began to react. But it was hard to tell if it was out of fear or arousal.

Only then did she realize that, up until this point, she'd been scared. Guilty even. Guilty of holding that moment in the hotel in her mind, guilty of making him a villain when she secretly enjoyed (and was secretly craving to try again) their unfinished experience. She was guilty but not ashamed. Frustrated and conflicted, yes.

She wanted so badly to stay his friend because that's how she knew how to love him. And with her leaving, that seemed like the only option. That was safe. And yet, this newfound feeling wouldn't leave her alone, and being trapped in here with him, she had been terrified of what she might allow herself to do if she got within an inch of him.

Yet, in that moment, she was surprised to find that she could do nothing but be still.

The heat of his body welded her to the ground, and made her mind race with hundreds of inappropriate scenarios. Something in her wanted this, and had been waiting for this divine mistake to happen again— if only to quell that little voice of curiosity. What it would be like to touch him, for their bodies to connect? The thought of it excited her, sending a thrill tingling up her spine. But still, she did nothing.

Suddenly, the look in his eyes vanished, and she could tell instantly it was because he buried it.

"Emily…" Her name roll off his lips slowly and gently.

"Yep?" She answered rather breathlessly.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I don't know…" She admitted,"Why were you looking at me like that?"

Morgan didn't reply. He couldn't. He wouldn't? He simply pushed up off the ground, and moved from his position on top of her. Then, he offered her his hand, extending it to help her up. She grabbed hold and with such strength, he pulled her to her feet. He cleared his throat, but didn't say anything.

Rather than acknowledge any of it, the moment completely dissolved. Each of them, pretending for their own reasons that the lapse of intense sexual tension that had just passed between them didn't happen at all.

"Why were you standing outside the door like that?" She asked curiously,"A girl can't use the bathroom in peace now?"

"I'm sorry, I had just propped myself up on the door, and was about to talk to you through it, when you yanked it open." He explained.

"Okayyy…"

"Really," He promised,"I thought you were gonna be in there for a while— I thought I might have to negotiate you out or something."

Emily glared at him, picking up on how he was giving her a friendly hard time about earlier, "You're a jerk, you know that." She said, and then punched him lightly in the shoulder.

"You're the jerk." He mocked, giving her a light punch back.

Emily playfully shoved his shoulder. And, with the same high-spirited energy, he reciprocated the gesture. She laughed. But refusing to let him have the last victory, she pressed at him again, this time, with effort that actually made him fumble a few steps back.

"Okay, okay. You win." He waved his white flag,"Save it for the ring, Sasha Banks."

Emily smiled smugly as she spun around with her flexed biceps in the air. But mid-way through a second spin, she stopped and stood still. She turned to Morgan, her arms dropping to her sides, and her eyes glowing with a sudden realization.

"I think I know what we need to do…"