Quantico, Virginia

FBI Behavior Analysis Unit

Sunday June 10, 2012

10:35 AM

Morgan stepped in the elevator and pressed the button for the sixth floor. Today was going to be a weird day. In fact, it had already started off that way. When he woke up, he would usually do his morning workouts, and go for a couple laps with Clooney around the neighborhood. However, given the condition his body was in— all bruises, a few broken ribs, and plenty of lacerations with stitches — he'd been advised by medical professionals to rest and heal.

Along with the general inability to do his regular morning routine, he felt a sense of displacement. It was almost like he was a foreigner in his own house, or like he wasn't suppose to be there. He couldn't shake that feeling easy. No amount of watching television, reading books, or cooking 3 different meals for dinner could get it to go away. No amount of sleep either.

And he slept a lot. He was tired— exhausted really. After being awake and under stress for long periods of time, and after being drugged with many different supplements, it was almost as if he couldn't get enough sleep. He slept the whole plane ride back to D.C., he slept his whole chaperoned car ride home, and then, when he arrived at his place, he crashed on the couch.

When he awoke the next morning, the weird feeling settled in. And it followed him through the weekend, into today. It was with him right now on the ride to the top floor, looming over him like a cloud or mysterious shadow.

Slowing down, the elevator came to a stop. The door glided open and the man set foot into the lobby. He was headed straight for the bullpen doors when someone came walking right alongside of him. And Although anyone else might've had to look to know exactly who that someone was, the sound of clomping platform heels and the aroma of fruity perfume was unmistakable.

"Morning, Baby girl." Morgan sang in a low voice.

"Derek, once again, you did not return my phone call." The analyst spoke testily.

Promptly, he stopped in his tracks, turning to face her so she could have his full attention. She was referring to a call she'd given him some time on Wednesday, after he'd hopped off the flight back home. He was at home when she called, but he was also in the middle of his fifth nap. Half asleep, too groggy and disoriented to hold a conversation, he agreed to call her back that night, but then… didn't.

"I'm sorry." He apologized sincerely,"I had a lot to sleep off… forgive me?"

Garcia rolled her eyes with false reluctancy, and her accusatory mood quickly dissolved,"Of course, I do." She gushed, and swatted playfully at his chest,"You know I can't stay mad at you, wonderful you. How are you feeling?"

"Still sore all over." He admitted,"But it's nothing I can't handle."

"I didn't mean physically." Garcia shook her head, "I meant up here."

With one ring-clad, vibrantly polished finger, she tapped at his forehead. Morgan inhaled through is his nose and nodded. She was talking about his mental well-being. Which— if he was being completely honest, there was probably a lot more to assess and address there than he was ready to face. Or able to handle.

"Well…" He started,"I'm scheduled for a mandatory psych exam after I get out of this meeting I'm headed to right now, so I'll keep you updated."

A small smile broke across her face,"Emily said the same thing."

Morgan cocked his head in a mixture of surprise and perplexity,"You talked to her?"

"Yea, a few minutes ago." The techie replied, "She's probably in Hotch's office by now… What's up? You sound like you haven't talked to her in decades?"

He frowned, his focus shifting to the glass doors leading to the bullpen,"I haven't spoke to her since we left the tarmac..."

What he didn't say was that he had called her. A few days ago, almost as soon as he walked through the front door to his house, he dialed her number. But it went straight to voicemail. He waited about an hour or so, hoping that she'd return his call, and when she didn't he tried again. Once that yielded the same results, he gave up.

It wasn't that big of a deal. Mostly he just wanted to hear her voice. And in an instinctively protective way, he wanted to make sure she made it home safe. But since she didn't answer, he figured she was likely just as wiped out from exhaustion as he was. She needed time to rest. And he did too. So, instead of futilely dialing her number, he spent the rest of that weekend occupying himself with a steady rotation of necessary sleep and trying to get his "groove" back.

"Of course… you guys were trapped in a room together for almost 24 hours," Garcia spoke, pulling him from his distant thoughts,"I'm sure you had plenty of time to talk while you were in there anyway."

Morgan squinted his eyes,"Yep." He responded plainly.

The tone in her voice was nothing unfamiliar to him. She was prodding for more information, looking for more "juicy details". Maybe Prentiss had already told her a little bit about what happened. But he wasn't going to give anything up easy. In fact, he wasn't going to give it up at all.

"That's it?" She raised earnestly.

"Mmhmm," He uttered, not letting anything slip,"We talked."

"So you told her that you love her, that you want her stay and that you made a huge mistake by promising her that nothing would change would between the two of you?" Garcia batted her lashes, but the man merely looked back at her in confusion and disbelief.

Besides the other day in his office, there was not a moment in his recent memory, that he could recall ever indicating — very obviously in fact, to Penelope that he might've felt that way about Prentiss. I didn't even sound like something he would admit to himself.

"Baby, what are you talking about?" Morgan questioned,"When did I say any of this to you?"

"A couple days ago." She clarified,"Those kidnappy drugs must've made you forget: you were crazy lovesick. And it was not in so many words on another phone conversation, that you called upon me for some guru advice."

He glared at her, skeptical, but slightly amused,"I feel like you're bluffing to get me to reveal something, but no. I didn't tell her any of those things."

"Derek!" She cried in astonishment.

"I did apologize for being different, and treating her just— terribly." He offered,"That had to be something I wanted to do, right?"

"It was." Garica answered snootily.

"Okay, good." He rested his case,"The rest of the time we pretty much profiled and tried to strategize a way out…"

"Yea, yea, yea. Save all the mundane details for Hotch," She conceded, giving in to the fact that she wasn't going to be able to squeeze out any extra information from him this time. Then, after shaking her head at him with faux disdain, the analyst did what she'd been waiting to do since the moment he went missing: she moved in for a hug.

"I'm glad you're back." She said.

Pulling his arms around her, Morgan reciprocated,"Me, too."

"Don't ever get kidnapped again." She commanded, pulling away and wagging a finger in his face,"My heart literally doesn't know what to do when you're not here to make it pump the love juice through me."

"I'll try my best." He promised, a smile tugging at his lips as he rolled his eyes in good humor.

Morgan gave her a kiss on the cheek, and then the two parted ways. She, returning to her glow cave as he resumed his journey to the bullpen. Entering through the glass doors, he crossed the room and made his way up the steps to Hotch's office. When he arrived, the door was propped open. Waiting inside, most obviously, was Hotch, and across from him, seated on the couch, was Prentiss.

Her hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and she was clothed in all black. Usually this was a natural preference, but today it somehow seemed like an intentional choice. Especially given how her turtleneck was rolled all the way up and her sleeves were pulled over her hands. To anyone else, she may have looked chilly. But it was clear to him she wanted to cover every visible inch of scarring and bruising on her body.

"Close the door." The unit chief said as Morgan officially entered the room.

As he took a vacant space on the couch beside Emily, she glanced at him and offered a faint smile. Immediately, his expression mirrored her's. It was silent "good to see you" which, they often exchanged. It was a nonverbal way most of team had learned to greet each other when it was too inappropriate to interrupt important work with a conversation. This time it meant a little bit more. This time it made his heart do a little leap.

"I've asked you here for two purposes," Hotch began,"To collect your statements and to fill you in on any aspects of the case which you were not privy to during your absence. As you know, we usually conduct these interviews separately, but considering the nature of your captivity, I think it's important and crucial that you are debriefed together. Is that okay with the both of you?"

With no objections, Prentiss nodded,"It's fine with me."

"Me, as well." Morgan agreed.

"Good. I wanted to extend you both the courtesy of receiving the same information at the same time." Hotch said,"During this meeting we will align and compare information to form a more complete report to keep on file and to send to internal affairs. Please feel free to ask questions at anytime."

Both Prentiss and Morgan nodded, and then, seeing that they understood, the unit chief handed each of them a beige Manila file folder with an FBI seal across the front. Moments later, he pulled out his phone. Opening the voice memo application, he pressed the red circle on his screen, and officially began the session.

Voice Recording 2012-06-06, Agents-Morgan-Prentiss

Hotch: "Please state your name and qualification for the record."

Morgan: "Ah— Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan."

Prentiss: "Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss."

H: "Thank you. To begin, On Monday June 4, the Behavioral Analysis Unit undertook a case in which interracial couples were being abducted and murdered within a week of each other. On Wednesday June 6, our finalized profile lead us to apprehend these serial killers, previously unknown subjects: Adam and Eve Lockhart."

P: "Those were their real names?"

H: "Not exactly. Amanda Withers was a surgeon at Liberty Medical Hospital, but resigned a few weeks before marrying Adam Lockhart, a local business man, on May 13 of 2007. It was then she legally changed her name to Eve Lockhart."

M: "Damn…"

H: "In our initial profile, we determined these unsubs were a dynamic partnership. In a pair, one unsub will always express dominance while the other expresses submissiveness. We profiled the husband as the submissive partner who was ritualistic, sentimental, and invested in his marriage. By that token, we profiled the wife a sociopathic dominant, skilled, highly intelligent with an inflamed maternal desire and minimal to no regard for her marriage. Did you find any of this information useful or see it realized in the field?"

M: "While in captivity, we were isolated from the unsubs. They spoke to us through an intercom system. They had a script and used biblical terms. It introduced an entirely religious aspect we hadn't even considered before. Regardless, even over the intercom, we could tell the wife was the dominant, calling the shots."

P: "That became more evident when we had direct contact with them. And while it was not likely that we'd encounter them physically until we met their demands, Morgan and I were able to devise a plan which allowed us to meet them physically sooner. We used what we knew from the profile to do so."

H: "What was that plan?"

M: "To use their fixation with traditional marriage and perfect spouses against them."

P: "We need to disillusion them, so Morgan and I, fought. Verbally, at first. Then, we sparred."

H: "Am I to understand that you implemented hand-to-hand combat techniques to mimic an occasion of domestic abuse?"

P: "Correct."

H: "… Understood.

In our initial profile, we also suspected that these unsubs were employing some kind of ruse on a hunting ground triangulated downtown. The specifics were unknown, but the dominant in the partnership would be charismatic enough to lure while the submissive partner possessed the physical strength to transport couples' bodies.

Thus, in a targeted effort to pinpoint this ruse, I assigned each team member specific areas of downtown Hinesville to canvas and question locals about any out-of-the-ordinary activity. It was in this routine circumstance that the ruse in question was eventually applied to the both of you.

Do you recall the event of your abduction in any detail?"

M: "The last thing I remember, before I woke up on the other side of the drugs, was leaving the cemetery."

H: "I see. Prentiss?"

P: "…"

H: "Prentiss?"

P: "Wh- ah… No. I don't remember anything."

H: "You're sure?"

P: "Yes, sir."

H: "Alright. If you look in the case file I've given you, you'll find a map of Bradwell Park Area Walkway. The east side of the park faces a secluded alleyway. This is where you were abducted. After extensive interviews, investigation, and cross-referencing, the team was able to find that our unsubs' cover and ruse was a traveling coffee stand, often located in that Park, called "Eden's Brew"."

P: "A coffee stand…"

H: "In Liberty County vendors use that park for regular weekend farmer's markets. Our unsubs, however, used this space as their hunting ground. It was able to attract potential victims— whether acquaintance or stranger, and it provided a pretense of complete harmlessness."

P: "So the victims, all the way back to Rutherfords— the only thing they had to do was stop by that location."

H: "Exactly."

M: "But Prentiss and I— we were investigating. We just let a woman this suspicious give us drugged up coffee?"

H: "That is unclear. Street surveillance of the area is minimal to non existent. The only footage Garica was able to pull is of you following Prentiss into the Park, and a caravan driving off about 30 minutes later. It was a local witness who worked across the street that came in to the precinct and provided us with more information. Even though it was helpful, details and particularities of the event are still inconclusive."

P: "Do you know what we were drugged with?"

H: " A strain of rohylpnol along with other paralytic drugs crushed into sugar. This was likely added to your coffee and due to the typical effects of the drug, your memory of this moment is compromised."

M: "Yep…"

H: "Moving on. According to records that technical analyst Penelope Garcia retrieved, almost a year after their marriage, Eve visited Doctor Logan Rutherford at a local women's health clinic to see why she wasn't getting pregnant. A handful of tests later, he told both the wife and husband they were sterile. 3 days after Eve's final visit, Rutherford and his wife were reported missing."

M: "Finding that out was definitely the initial trigger. If she was trying to fulfill some sort of false prophecy in which she and her husband were the next Adam and Eve, getting told your infertile is a major threat to the delusion."

P: "And what you said, Hotch, that also proves how they knew their early victims."

H: "Yes. After the Rutherford's were taken, a year later Jordan Blanton, now successor at the clinic, and his wife Justine were abducted. Another year went by, but this time it was followed by a longer cooling off period. The time gap between the initial murders and the accelerated murders being approximately four years."

M: "Why'd they stop?"

P: "And what triggered them to start abducting and killing again?"

H: "You remember the cemetery findings?"

P: "Of course. Reid and I had a theory that the dates on the headstones— the year difference between both the Blanton's deaths might mean that the unsubs succeeded."

H: "Good. As you remember, both couples were buried in that cemetery. Via old paper ledgers, it became apparent that the original grounds keeper, now deceased, was paid a large sum by an anonymous source to covertly conduct those burials. Once we had the caskets exhumed, and the remains examined, the coroner determined Justine Blanton had been pregnant. The umbilical cord tissue was still among her remains."

M: "They killed her right after she gave birth…"

P: "Do we know what happened to the child?"

H: "Yes, in fact, I'm coming to that. Concerning the recent victims, all of the couples were acquaintances of the Lockhart's in some way or another. They attended First Baptist Church of Hinesville with the Washingtons and the Tolberts, the Lines were their accountants at Heritage Bank, and the Dickinsons…"

P: "… and the Dickinsons?"

H: "Avalynn Dickinson was an elementary school teacher to Cain Lockhart."

M: "So that little boy was the baby— Justine's son."

H: "It looks that way."

P: "Is he okay? We assumed if they successfully had a child he would be at the house, but being isolated, we never saw him."

H: "School records indicate that a child by this name was enrolled at Jordye Bacon Pre-K-Elementary School. I spoke with the principal, and although she confirmed this, she also informed me that the boy hadn't been brought to any of his classes at that institution in over a month."

M: "Why…?"

H: "We did not discover the reason until we arrived at the Lockhart's household — which, given the time it took to exhume the bodies, have them autopsied, to interview and re-interview family and the witness, to update Garcia's search parameters, and to retrace your steps, much of this information was not available to the team until hours after your abduction.

It is my regret that we were unable and uniformed enough to arrive at the Lockhart household until the exact moment we did."

P: "It's… okay."

M: "We made it out, man. You guys never stopped searching, never stopped solving the case. That's all that matters."

H: "…When the team arrived at the house, we cut the power and immediately infiltrated through the front door. In the final report here, I have indicated simply that the male unsub, Adam Lockhart, was apprehended in the kitchen of his home. He had blood on his hands and was standing over the brutalized body of his wife, Eve Lockhart."

P: "And the little boy…?"

H: "… The body of Cain Lockhart was discovered in the basement, inside one of the morgue draws. Liberty County coroner report confirms that he'd been dead for at least 5 weeks."

M: "Well, what ever happened, his death was definitely the trigger for the accelerated murders."

H: "The boy had sustained an injury to the front of his head, but his official COD was ruled water asphyxia."

M: "What?"

P: "He drowned… in a bathtub, didn't he?"

H: "Unfortunately, it seems that way…"

P: "God… with "their" son gone, they weren't only grieved, but needed another to child to replace him for their delusion."

M: "Except people aren't replaceable like that…"

H: "In the report, I have indicated that 'Agent Derek Morgan was recovered in a room connected to the kitchen. He was handcuffed and injured, but alive. Agent Emily Prentiss was detained in a bathroom on the lower level. She was also handcuffed, injured, but alive.'

I left this section non-specific intentionally, as I feel your perspectives leading up to this moment will be more sufficient. Whoever would like to go first, please briefly describe the sequence of events which, in your experience, occurred moments before the team infiltrated the premises."

P: "I'll go…"

H: "Please."

P: "About 30 minutes prior to the team's arrival, I woke up handcuffed to a metal bar in a bathroom. I was disoriented but cognizant. Eve Lockhart entered the room shortly after, and said she wanted me to take a pregnancy test.

It was not in my best interest to refuse her request as she soon called Adam Lockhart to the room. He entered, holding a knife at Morgan's throat. This was clearly a manipulative tactic to force me to do as she wanted. I asked if I could take the test in private and for whatever reason, they granted me that.

Alone with the test, I was able to tamper with the results by adding soap. I didn't know what the odds were, but I hoped what I did would slant them in my favor. When it developed, it was positive. The physician who cleared me later, told me I was able to bear a false positive due to the bar soap's ability to color a test in the same way that the hCG pregnancy hormones do.

Eve returned with Adam, and saw the test. Then...

Adam went to kill Morgan. Or so I assumed. I heard what sounded like a fist fight, which was then followed by a very long silence… I thought Morgan was dead. Eve was still standing there. She never left. I… uh, I was upset, and at my limit. I wanted to get free, so I kicked her over, and kicked her pretty good. Then, she scurried away and that's when the power went out."

H: "Thank you. Agent Morgan."

M: "Okay… before the infiltration, I woke up on a hospital bed. My hands were cuffed behind me, and while everything was blurry, I could kind of see Adam and Eve standing in front of me. They were just watchin' me… staring like I was some kind of cell under a microscope.

After a minute, Eve left. I didn't know where she went, but a few minutes later, I was able to tell it was nearby because I heard her voice call his name very clearly. That's when Adam yanked me out the bed. He whipped a knife from his pocket, faced me away from him and held it on my throat. And then we walked to the room where Eve was.

I saw Prentiss handcuffed to the wall, but I couldn't say much of anything— he kept pulling that blade closer. And I was only in that room for a second. Like Prentiss just said, I was just there as incentive to manipulate her. We went out just as soon as we went in, and wasting no time, Adam shoved me back over to the hospital bed.

They waited five minutes for Prentiss to take the test, and once that passed, they both left me to see about her. Not even a minute had passed when Adam came back and said "Let's go." He came at me, trying to put a mask connected to gas tank over my face, but I think I wasn't as drugged or as out of it as he presumed because I was able to dodge him. I kicked him and in retaliation, he punched me. That's when we got into it.

We fought, and eventually, he clocked me in the face. I went down, and though I wasn't knocked unconscious I rested there like I was. I thought he might try and drag me to an operating table, and that there, I could snatch a medical tool to fight with or something, but instead he dragged me up some steps. It was a long haul cause my dead weight is heavy even though he was pretty strong, but we did get to the top.

I was just about to open my eyes to see where we were when I heard a woman's voice manic screaming and sobbing. Eve came storming up the steps, livid. I couldn't tell what she was going on about, but she was distraught and really, really angry. That's when Adam tossed me to the ground.

I cracked my eyelids open enough to see, and saw her shake her fist at him and backhand him across the face. As the submissive, I didn't expect him to do react much, but he grabbed her by the wrist… then he grabbed by her throat. He threw her down to the ground, took that knife out of his pocket and just… started stabbing her, man.

I don't know what I was thinking, but I worked my way to my feet and started shouting at him to stop, but he kept going, pulling that blade in and out of her, howling murderously as he did it. Then, the lights went out. I didn't know what was happening, or if I'd be safe so I hid where I could. And you know the rest…"

H: "Thank you… No matter what anyone says, I want you both to remember that you did what you had to do in order to survive. Whatever actions you took cannot be used against you. You're alive because of those actions."

P: "I understand…"

M: "Same here."

H: "Good. With that in mind, let me ask you these next, final questions. Very early in the development of the profile, the BAU team determined that the primary motive of these unsubs was to force procreation to the ends of childbearing on their behalf. Given your extended missing period of 18 hours and 41 minutes, is this theory in line with what you experienced? Did these unsubs demand you have intercourse during your time in captivity? And did you comply with these demands, having sexual intercourse with another agent?"

M: "We— "

P: "As far as intercourse, we did not. Agent Morgan and myself were commanded multiple times, in a non-lethal manner, to sleep with one another and to create a child within that one interaction. However, like with sparring, we devised a low risk plan to create the illusion of intercourse rather than do the actual act."

H: "Morgan, do you corroborate this?"

M:"Yea…"

H: "I'm sorry?"

M: "Yes. We did not sleep together. We tossed the sheets around, looked out of breath for a minute and they put us to sleep with their anesthesia gas soon after that."

H: "…Okay. Agents, thank you for your time. If you have anymore questions please do feel free to reference the case file. As far as this interview, what was discussed here should be adequate for internal affairs' review."

End - Voice Recording 2012-06-06, Agents-Morgan-Prentiss

With a quick flick of his finger, Hotch pressed the red recording button and ended the session. He folded his hands together, placed them in front of him, and then, simply looked at the two people who sat on the couch before him. The man rarely showed any emotion, but Morgan swore he saw the smallest twinge of regret in his eyes.

"Both of you are scheduled for psychological evaluations this afternoon," The unit chief spoke,"And I expect you to attend them."

"Of course, sir." Emily said with a slight nod.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." Morgan droned sarcastically.

"Good." Hotch intoned.

After this exchange, the two said their goodbyes to their superior, leaving him only after he, in so few words, expressed that he was glad to have them back safe.

Traveling down the platform stairs, through the bullpen and heading straight toward the main exit of the unit, they walked in silence. Prentiss stomped at a pace ahead him, so they weren't side by side. Really she was power-walking— almost like she was in a hurry to get away from him. It felt… weird.

"Hey, Prentiss?" He said, reaching to tap her on the shoulder, "We should talk."

Emily whipped around,"About what exactly?"

Morgan furrowed his brow. He didn't know what he expected, but a sharp, constricted tone coloring her voice wasn't it,"For starters, about how you just lied to Hotch?"

She looked him dead in the eye, "Were you planning on telling him?"

"Well, I wasn't planning on lying to the man." He said pointedly,"Considering the situation, I think he would've understood. Hell, the man knew that those questions were so uncomfortable, he saved them for last."

Emily scoffed,"Derek, I know Hotch said all that stuff about our actions being actions of survival, and for the most part, he'd be right. But, that part of what we did almost got us killed. It was reckless."

Morgan could feel his expression twist with mix of unnamable emotions. Her physical demeanor was nonchalant but unswerving. She hadn't meant any of what she was saying to be argumentative, but it was distinctly defensive. He was receiving mixed signals. Her actions confusing him, and cutting him so unsuspectingly.

"So, you just wanted to make us look better on paper?" He questioned.

"Exactly." She replied.

"Emily, I hope you know I do not buy that."

"Derek, can we just—" She spoke, suddenly flustered,"Can we have this conversation some place else, please? I'm staying at a hotel downtown since my apartment's out of commission. You can come by later."

Morgan clenched his jaw, "Okay, fine."

"Okay." She said, slowly turning towards the elevator, "I'll see you later…"

Newly frustrated and very confused, Morgan made his way to his office. Earlier he thought he might head there to rest between the meeting and his psych evaluation— he even thought, maybe, if Emily had a second, she could come sit with him. After all, he wanted her company. But, now, with the way the session ended, and the way he just caught an icy breeze off her cold shoulder, he figured he wasn't going to get much rest at all.

He was unsettled. The week was coming around full circle, ending almost exactly as it had started. Yet, after everything that happened, how could it? He kept telling himself 'this wasn't what he expected' , that the next time he saw her 'he didn't know what to expect' — when in reality, the last thing he expected was for her to be pushing him away. It was more than weird. It left a bad taste in his mouth.

She was giving him a sample of his own medicine, being a little abrasive without explanation. And there was no way, right then, for him to combat that. Especially, as he was working through his own storm of emotions.

When he last spoke to her, she seemed — comfortable. They, sat beside each other on the plane ride home. At one point, her head rested on his thigh while she snoozed. Subconsciously, they were seeking the safety that came with being near each other. But what Morgan couldn't comprehend was how quickly and easily she seemed to go from wanting to be around him, to almost completely objecting to any interaction with him.

He came home a few days ago knowing things would be different. Everything, every single moment that took place— every hurtful word, every punch, every laugh, every bit of profiler talk, every shared moment of panic… every kiss in that room had redefined their relationship in such an obvious and inescapable way. And yet, he could tell, she was attempting to compartmentalize it away.

He didn't need to spend 24 hours locked in a room with Emily Prentiss to know when she became distant, silent and defensive, she was burying her most sacred and vulnerable thoughts deep within herself. Not even four days after they were saved from that deadly situation, she was building a wall around herself. And once she successfully built that wall, it was nearly impossible for anyone to get through.

Of course, that had never really affected him before. Mostly because he was one of the only people that could seem to get through. Yet, this time around… something felt different. And perhaps, that's what the weird feeling was. Without being able to name it, being disconnected from her in any capacity felt weird. Not being able to connect with her physically or mentally, platonically or — maybe even romantically, was a shock to his system.

After staying right next to her through everything, he felt like he wasn't supposed to be away from her. Like he wasn't supposed to be alone. He needed to be around her, and to heal with her. They'd been attached at the hip for so long— and not just for those 24 hours, but for 6 years. Pending her departure overseas, it felt strange, all around, knowing that he was going to have to be without her for a very long time.

Morgan sighed as he pushed open the door to his office. He looked around and everything was right where he left it. Neat, tidy, barely any paper work. He wanted to knock something over so the room would reflect how he was feeling, but didn't.

Maybe they could heal separately. Maybe they could part ways, move on and pretend like nothing— that this whole week hadn't happened. But that was the bleakest alternative. He may not have been sure of everything, but what he did know, is that he was slowly beginning to come to terms with what he wanted. And it certainly wasn't that.

He wanted her. To be close and connected to her. There was plenty to sort out, and a lot to talk about. He was prepared for Emily to feel differently, but he wasn't going to let her get away. There was no way he could see her off to London before either of them got clarity, before either of them gave 'them' an opportunity. Before he told her that he loved her.

A/N: This chapter I tried something a little different, because in my draft of this chapter, I had a lot of dialogue I wanted to fit in to explain away the mannnnyyy case related details left hanging in previous chapters. And anyway, the story wasn't moving fast enough with other sorts of text in there. SO I hope you didn't get too thrown when the style changed a bit.