Our arsonist unsub was a firefighter.

We caught that bastard, but not before he set the home of a family with three kids on fire. The mother survived, but in a critical condition, and she was fighting for her life right now in the ICU, not knowing that her whole family was gone.

I wonder who would break the news to her.

Laurel Cassidy, I said her name internally, hoping that her name would make it to my list.

The jet trembled slightly at a mild turbulence that shook the plane. JJ walked on the aisle, steadying herself with a grip on Hotch's seat. "I just got text from NYPD," she said with a wistful tone, "She didn't make it."

My stomach sank, knowing that I wouldn't get to write her name on my aged, leather notebook. I looked around at my teammates; they all shared the same look about them despite the way they carry themselves in this job.

Defeat.

"Her body was ninety two percent covered with third-degree burns," my mouth blurted before I was able to think it through. In a way, I was trying to convince myself, "Everyone she loved is gone. If she lives, what kind of life would she have? At this point death is mercy."

Silence filled the cabin. Even I didn't believe my own words. How come anyone label what had happened to her as mercy? I took my bottle of water and brought it to my mouth to cover the tremble on my lips.

"We did everything we could," offered Hotchner in consolation to the team, his eyes stayed a moment on me. "We caught the unsub. No one else has to suffer like Laurel Cassidy in his hands anymore."

I was thankful for the few days off that the team gets after closing up a case. God knows we all needed that break. For me, I never needed a break as much as I do now.

So the moment we touched down and went to our respective homes, I decided to stop at a liquor store and bought myself two bottles of bad vodka that I really hate.

I hated vodka in general as I was more of a tequila girl; but my logic tells me that if I was going to get drunk alone tonight, and possibly tomorrow morning, might as well choose something strong and absolutely detestable so I don't get overboard with it.

It was dark out the moment I arrived at my rented apartment. As soon as I opened my door and locked it back, I dropped my go bag to the floor unceremoniously, then proceeded to unscrew the vodka bottle and drank it straight from the bottle with a few big gulps.

The sharp liquid burned my throat and my stomach. It was a much welcomed distraction; anything to help me forget the amber in my memory, both from recent events and from the ghost of my past.

I never made it to my bed. Instead, I passed out on my couch and stayed there all night. The next morning, I woke up feeling like I'd been hit by a bus. I threw up my gut in the toilet and continued gagging at the sick feeling.

Two thoughts come to mind at that very moment I wiped my mouth and flushed my toilet weakly. First, I am never drinking again. Second, I kind of deserved this, and there was no better way to spend my day off and nurse the guilt that came creeping back into my chest along as I began to sober up.

There was still a bottle of vodka left, so what the hell.

As I nursed my vodka, my phone rang, and Garcia's picture flashed on my screen. Thinking it was work, I muttered a series of profanities as I quickly crawled on the synthetic wooden floor of my apartment to get to the phone in my go bag.

"Yes, momma," I greeted.

"Hello, my sweet baby eagle," Penelope purred on the phone. The cute nickname got me to giggle. "Guess whose birthday it is today."

A noisy gasp left me. "Mommaaaa!" I cried, "Happy Birthday–oh my gosh! Did I ever tell you that you age like a fine wine?"

There was a pause at the end of the line before my best friend and mentor spoke again. "Umm, I do age like a fine wine, thank you very much, but it is not my birthday today."

I gave a long hum. "Ooohkay then. Any serial killer needed ass kicking today?"

"–You sound odd. Are you feeling okay, Lizzy?"

I put the phone on speaker, laid it on the floor before laying myself next to it. "Ooh, yeah. Very okay. Mmhm, I feel…"

I closed my eyes, trying to find the word for it.

Drunk; empty, inexistent. Possibly a little thirsty.

I took another swig at the bottle as I heard Penelope continue speaking to me, then I closed my eyes, replying her questions with a series of 'mhm's and 'ooh's.

An impatient knock on the door woke me. I grunted as I picked myself up from the floor, taking my bottle with me. Checking through the peephole when someone knocked on my door was a second instinct, that even the drunk me didn't forget.

Goodness me, I tried, but I was too drunk to be able to concentrate enough to see through such a dark, molecular tiny hole. An anxiety that was numbed slightly by alcohol tugged at my chest before I decided that I needed a drink to face the unknown that was behind that door.

Another four bangs per minute sounded from the door, making my head and my hair hurt. At this point, I'll do anything to stop that incessant, loud door pounding.

Taking a swig at my vodka, I opened my door and find Derek Morgan at the door; one hand hanging in the air as if he was about to knock again; the other hand holding the phone that was pressed against his left ear. Even when being drunk, I could still appreciate what a beautiful human being he was. The upset look he gave me, and how he eyed my vodka scrutinizingly was registered second in my brain. "Cancel everything," I heard him say to his phone before putting the device back into his pocket. The pissed look on his expression grew; I instinctively hid my bottle behind my back.

"Derek?" I frowned. I leaned my body against the door frame and rested the side of my heavy head lazily on the hard surface. "Aren't you supposed to be hooking up somewhere?" I asked with a conspiratorial grin.

"It's Friday morning," he answered with a deep crease between his expressive eyebrows.

I forgot. "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh. What the hell happened to you, cookie?" he questioned as he cupped my cheek and invited himself into my apartment–just like he and Garcia often do. "You smelled like my drunk uncle on the good days."

That last bit got me to giggle; me, smelling like a drunk uncle just sounded hilarious in my mind. I turned around as he entered and closed my door behind me. Mindlessly I took another swig at my drink–

Derek snatched the bottle from my hand rather rudely. "I think you've had enough, doll." I groaned and jumped on my feet as I tried to take it back, but Derek already lifted the bottle way above his head, while he was already much taller than me.

"Please, Derek. I need it," I begged, pouting, "Give it back."

"No, baby."

I made unhappy noises, my left arm was hooked around his middle while I stood on my tiptoe as my right hand was raised to reach the clear bottle, glittering enticingly with sunlight.

So much light. So much color…

Derek was persistent.

"You can't just come here and bully me!" I protested.

"No!" he stated, "Stop it! Hey! Hey, look at me."

I did. He gave me a stern gaze; a look that he never gave me before. It was enough to get me to stop my attempt to climb the fine tree that was Derek Morgan. I took a step back and released him.

"That's enough," he said with finality, then wrapped his free arms around my waist and I had no choice but to follow him. "Sit down, cookie," he ordered gently this time, gesturing to my couch.

I flopped down to the couch dejectedly, feeling the headache returned at much jumping to get my drink back. Derek's back was on me as he faced my kitchen sink, and I knew he was pouring my vodka down the drain. He came back a few minutes later with a glass of water and aspirin.

"Drink," he ordered like a boss, his face unreadable. Not wanting the Stern Derek to come back, I did what he told me obediently. "Good girl. Now let's get you to bed."

I whined. "Why?? It's in the middle of a noon, who sleeps in the middle of a noon?"

"Drunk uncles."

I chuckled at that, a ghost of smile played on his lips as he held me by my waist again. Supporting half of my weight with his strong arm, he guided me to my bedroom. "Do I really smell like a drunk uncle?"

As he allowed me to sit at the edge of my bed lumply like Jell-O, he responded. His eyes soft, "No. You smell like love," he cooed, making me giggle again. Derek knelt in front of me so he was on my eye level, "…I think you are sad, and I'm hoping you can tell me later, when your eyes are clear and your head is straight."

The tenderness in his low voice and in the way he looked at me successfully melted my insides. I hummed. I ran the tips of my fingers on his face, touching his cheek, his jaw, his thick, dark eyebrows, and his nose. I was unaware of how Derek froze when I lined the tips of my index finger around the edges of his lips.

I smiled appreciatively at how kissable his lips looked. Unfortunately, being drunk got me stupidly bold. "Can you kiss me?" I asked.

Derek's eyebrow flashed at my request. I smiled again when I saw his eyes fleeted down to my mouth.

He nodded. "I can," he said huskily. Derek placed his big palm on my cheek, and pressed his forehead on mine, looking into my eyes, "…but I won't. I don't do drunk girls."

My shoulder sagged in a mild disappointment. "Lame," I commented, making him chuckle. He gave me a kiss on my cheek instead, enough to ease my disappointment before retreating his touch away from me.

"I'm going to have a field day teasing you about this for the next ten years. You'll regret this, and I'll enjoy every second of it," he smirked. Derek took off my shoes for me, then tucked me in like a child.

As he pulled the cover and tucked it under my chin, I stared at him through the daze that was my drunkenness.

"Did he send you to me, my guardian angel?"

"Who?"

"My hearsay being."

Derek had a thoughtful look on his face. "Will you tell me about this being to me later?"

"Objection, hearsay," I mumbled, causing a handsome chuckle from Derek.

That's how fine he was; even his chuckle was handsome. I smiled sleepily.

"I'll sustain the objection, for now," he said sweetly as he brushed my hair back. His touch had that drugging effect, making me feel drowsy. "Good night, doll."

*

I woke up groggily, expecting a full on head pounding hangover. But the aspirin that Derek gave me earlier did wonders dialing down the hangover effect. As I looked around my dim bedroom, my mind began replaying this afternoon. Some of my memory was hazy at best, like Garcia's phone call, but everything else with Derek that happened after I slept off some of my morning hangover–unfortunately, I remembered most of them.

I sighed and covered my face in embarrassment. Derek was right; he was going to have a field day teasing me about my drunken request to him.

And then there was the memory of Laurel Cassidy, and suddenly the thought of Derek's teasing for the next decade didn't seem so bad compared to what had happened to her.

I wanted to forget her. I wanted to drink again. I wanted to get high and not take any responsibility. But at the back of my mind, I thought about my hearsay being, and the pact we had more than a decade ago. I still owed him ninety five lives out of one hundred thirty six. I wasn't done yet. I couldn't do my job if I am drunk.

But I wasn't on the job right now.

I walked to the door, out to my kitchen to look for food–for now. After opening several overhead cabinets, I found a bag of Cheetos. Opening the plastic bag, I then stuffed some into my mouth as I looked for more food at my fridge.

Someone scoffed. "Please don't tell me that's your dinner."

I turned, my stomach sinking. I was surprised to find Derek lounging casually on my couch. He removed his feet from on top of my coffee table, then patted on the space next to him. "Come to daddy, little princess."

My mouth turned upward at the nickname. "You're still here," I pointed out as I sat next to him on my couch.

"I hope you're in the mood for Chinese," he said as he handed me a takeaway box and a couple of chopsticks before grabbing one for himself too.

The smell of the chicken lo mein hit my nose, making my stomach grumbled. Derek probably heard that and gave a little chuckle as he too, devoured his dinner.

"Slow down, little girl!" he exclaimed as I stole one of his fried dumpling and chomped on my chicken lo mein.

I covered my mouth with my hand, "Sorry, I'm starving!"

Derek in return, stole my drink from me and took a slurp at it.

"You finished your drink already?"

"I'm a big boy, mami, I get thirsty easily," he winked suggestively and made noisy slurping noises, making me laugh. For a while, Derek made me forget about everything else but the present time.

"Mmm! Naughty papi!" I replied with amusement.

Derek gave me that devilish grin of his. "Is that why you asked me to kiss you?"

I groaned. "I was drunk and stupid." Scarlet crept to my whole face, "Please don't tell anyone."

"…that you wanted me to kiss you?" he scoffed cockily, "I have a feeling everybody knows. It's fine, doll. You're not the only woman who wants a piece of me."

I chuckled, unable to deny that he was stating a fact. I handed him the rest of my chicken lo mein, letting him devour the rest of my unfinished food. I got up to take two glasses of water for each of us before returning to the couch and placed it on the coffee table before us.

"Thanks, mami."

I waited quietly as he ate. My eyes caught on the humor tv show that Derek had been watching with low sound; my mind went blank.

"You were saying some stuff earlier today." Unbeknownst to me, Derek had been watching my every move.

"Did I? I was drunk."

"Honey, I could tell you were upset," he said casually as he wiped his mouth with a piece of napkin before disposing it along with his takeout box. He stretched an arm on the armchair behind my back. Tilting his head at me, his eyes softening, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Looking at that kind, caring chocolate eyes, a part of me wanted to tell him everything. On the other hand, I felt shame and knew that if I did, it might change the way he looked at me, and that I would never feel the warmth of his friendship anymore.

Then he'd tell Penelope and I'd lose her too.

Considering where I was going, it was a selfish thing to do; wanting to keep them for myself but not giving them the whole part of me.

I was about to start lying to him when Derek's bigger hand clasped mine softly. He brought our entwined hands together and pressed a warm kiss on my skin. "Do you remember what I told you the day you were officially not a rookie anymore?"

I nodded. "Congratulations, cookie."

Derek shook his head.

I tried again. "You're a tough cookie."

My handsome friend raised an attractive eyebrow, looking doubtful. I hurriedly revised my statement, thinking I remember wrong.

"You're a …soft cookie?" I guessed, eliciting a low chuckle from Derek.

"I said, 'These arms will always be available to you. All you need to do is ask'," he quoted himself, and my eyes began to mist. Derek noticed and brought his thumb to gently caressed my cheek, "You know you can always come to me, right?"

I had no strength to lie to him anymore; but I couldn't afford to tell him everything. So I chose to tell him half truth.

"I fell off the wagon today," I said through the well in my eyes. I reached the back of my pocket, felt the smooth, round coin in my hand and retrieved it, putting it in my friend's hand. "Three years, Derek. Three years of sobriety gone in one night."

I watched as Derek's empathetic eyes looked up to mine from studying the coin in his hand. In a horrible attempt to lighten up the mood, I wiped my tear and joked, "Two years drinking Shirley Temple while hanging out with you guys… all for nothing."

"My sweet girl," he sighed wistfully as he closed the gap between us and pulled me into his warm embrace. I shook my head, pulling away a bit before looking up at him seriously.

"I manipulated you. I let you and the team think that I am some kind of this good, church girl, but I'm not, Derek. Far from it," I shook my head, tears leaked from my eyes as my face heated up in shame, "I'm not a good person. I'm an imposter."

"Elizabeth," Derek shook his head in disagreement. He cupped both my cheek, tilting my head up so I was forced to look at him. "That is not what I see. I see a sweet, good girl trying very hard to better herself."

A sob escaped me. "Would you still think that way, if you know how much I want to get high right now?" I asked rhetorically. "I want to get drunk again, and never sober up anymore. I would have gone to the liquor store had you not been sitting here on my couch," my lips trembled, "I was disappointed when I saw you were still here."

Derek's eyes began to glisten with emotion. "Why, Liz?" There was pain etched across his expression that made the guilt worsen up in my stomach. "Why do you need to get high?"

"I… I…" I stuttered, hesitating, wondering if this could get me into trouble. Derek nodded encouragingly, and I swallowed. "Laurel Cassidy," I finally confessed and I began to break into tears again, "…I-I can't get the smell of her burning skin out of my mind. I want to forget."

Derek Morgan's embrace had never been so tight before. It should have scared me, crippled me. But instead, despite my raging emotions, his trapping arms made me feel secure, sheltering me from the darkest of humanity around me.

*

We ended up sleeping in each other's arms on the couch until dawn. I woke up still in Derek's arms, his right hand rested on my stomach as we both lie on our sides. The tv had long been turned off, most likely by Derek.

The close proximity between us made the butterfly in my stomach fluttered. Besides the comforting feeling of his hard body against my back, and the fact that he smelled so good–something masculine and just Derek– awareness that I was still in the same attire for the past thirty two hours made me feel self conscious. I tried to get up, but his arms were still keeping me captive.

"Angel of mine…" I croaked with a sheepish smile, stroking his left arm that was circling the front of my neck, securing me to him. I could hear the sleepy smile in his answer as he stirred awake from his slumber.

"Yours, baby…" he said with an awfully low, husky voice, clouded heavily with sleep. "Go back to sleep. It's too early."

I didn't have it in me to deny him.

A couple hours later, both of us were awake, the sunshine slipped through the blinds, but none of us seemed willing to move.

Being with Derek was so easy. There was no awkwardness between us, even as I turned my body to face him. His boyish smile was contagious. He stroke the skin under my eye tenderly for a few seconds before placing a kiss on my forehead.

"Ever think of trying your hand at a different career?" I asked out of the blue.

"Like what?"

"Professional cuddler, for one. You give the best cuddle ever, Derek Morgan. All those years of practice with the ladies definitely paid off," I said, pressing my cheek on the nape of his neck. "Thank you. For taking a good care of me."

"Anything for you, doll." After a brief pause, he added, "I don't do cuddles with them," he said out of the blue. "I please them, I have sex with them, then I leave. Only five women in this world I would cuddle: My mom, my sisters, Penelope, and you."

For the first time in a week, I let out a genuine smile on my face. I blushed. "That is special. Thank you," I murmured. "Speaking of, how is Penelope and Kevin? He was quite upset with you a week ago when he heard you being you with his girlfriend."

Derek let out a long exhale. "Penelope is trying to assure him that I have a big mouth and that we are nothing but friends. She wanted to come here to see you yesterday, but she was just having another argument with Kevin, so I told her to stay put."

I hesitated before telling him what's on my mind. "I think Penelope deserves someone better. Kevin is too jealous. He's suffocating our momma."

"He just doesn't get our love language, cookie," he said, almost as if he was defending Kevin. "But if I was in his shoes, I would probably be pissed too. I don't like sharing my woman with any other man."

Whoever was going to bring Derek Morgan to his knees and put an end to his womanizer days, would be the luckiest chick in the whole world.

"Poor woman. You are protective enough with your female friends and family," I commented with a teasing smile, "With you she'll end up being chained to your bed."

"Won't be my first time chaining a lucky girl to a bed," Derek flashed me that boyish, perfect smile that lit up the whole room.

I blushed at the image that suddenly popped in my mind. Derek noticed, and a wolfish grin came across his face. "Did I turn you on with that kind of talk?"

"No."

Laughing nervously, I got up and untangled myself from his embrace. I stretched my arms up as I felt Derek sat up himself. Before I managed to stand, he tapped my arm and offered me back my three years sobriety coin.

I looked at the golden metal on his hand, my smile waned. I shook my head as I moved to fold the throw blanket that fell down to the floor last night. "I don't want it anymore. I don't deserve it."

"Then earn it back." Derek took my hand and placed the coin in my palm. "This time around, you don't have to do it alone. I'll help you. And whenever you are having a bad day and you feel the need to drink again," he took my chin, forcing me to look him in the eye, "…You come to me. Anytime. I don't care. Understood?"

I nodded and clasped my hand on the coin. Derek Morgan indeed was a guardian angel sent by my hearsay being.

Upon seeing my smile, Derek smiled and looked to his watch. "Good, because we have fifteen minutes left to get ready. We have a case."

The case turned out to be Elizabeth Dawson's belated birthday that have slipped my mind yesterday, which I found out a moment later after Derek told me that they were making a stop at Hotch's first.

The whole team set up a barbecue in our Unit Chief's house. The moment we came in there was a collective 'Surprise' moment that shocked me, causing me to momentarily closed my ears at the loud noise. The next few seconds were spent by me receiving hugs from my teammates and their family members.

Showered with love by the team, I felt overwhelmed.

"Someone was having a birthday party on their own," Emily nudged my side, grinning mischievously, "Had fun?"

Seeing the amused grin on my brunette friend let me know that both Derek and Penelope had went their way into adding a twist of joy to my pathetic drinking party last night. My heart melted; they knew me too well to know that I would never want people to see me at my darkest moments.

Derek and Penelope were probably the first true friends that I had ever had.

"Too much fun," I blushed.

JJ wrapped her arm around my shoulders, "Well, we ate your birthday cake yesterday, but…"

"Happy birthday, Lizzie. Happy birthday Lizzie…"

Out from Hotch's house was Penelope in a bright blue dress and polkadot cardigan, holding what seemed to be a tray of baked potato with cheese, and on top of them, a few little candles were lit.

"Time to make a wish, Elizabeth," Rossi encouraged with a fatherly smile.

I sighed happily as I looked at this family around me. Then at Derek and Penelope. "I don't know. I have everything I need here."

"Thirty is a magical number," Hotch said with a lopsided smile as he held Jack, his son, in his arms, "Don't waste it."

I closed my eyes, and make my wish: A balanced ledger.

Opening my eyes, I blew the candle and everybody cheered happily. The last of birthday wished were exchanged before the group dispersed to enjoy the fantastic barbecue set up in Hotch's backyard. After putting down the makeshift birthday cake and have people fighting to get their hands on one of Rossi's special Italian baked potato, I found Penelope's eyes searching me.

My stomach sunk. I did owe her an explanation.

As I was about to open my mouth, Penelope shook her head.

You can tell me later. Enjoy today, was what I read from her understanding, non-judgmental eyes. Then she opened her arms, and my eyes began to glisten at the warmth gifted to me from my best friend. I had to pull away from her hug before my emotion got the best of me. Thanking her silently, I grasped her hand and squeezed it, smiling at her before taking a tray of Lousiana-style chicken wings to distribute among the hungry FBI agents and their loved ones.

"If anyone needs to learn to fly, they can learn much from these guys," I announced with a huge smile on my face, referring to the chicken wings, "I think they are heaven-sent."

A cheer broke at the table at my announcement. I chuckled and took my seat next to Derek who immediately wrapped his arm around me.

Unknown to either of us, despite the stealth, my and Penelope's little exchange earlier was not missed by the team–not when they were a bunch of world class profiler.

*

[Author's Note: What do you think of the turn of events so far? I would love to hear your thoughts. Leave a comment, or simply vote/leave a kudos or like if you ship Morgan and Dawson! There are much left to uncover with Liz, but if you also watched 9-1-1, I think you'd see where this was going. Thanks for reading]