November 30th

"Good morning," JJ greeted as Emily came down the stairs, yawning. It was the first time she'd gotten out of bed in a few days, so she was glad to see her up. "Can I make you some breakfast?"

She attempted a smile, perhaps a bit apologetic. "I'm not really hungry." She rarely had any kind of appetite anymore, much to her doctor's chagrin, considering the fact that she was technically underweight for this stage of her pregnancy.

"Come on," JJ pressed, "You're pregnant – you need to eat so you can grow that beautiful little baby inside you." She still looked a little reluctant, so she said, "Just some toast and juice..."

She nodded once, relenting. JJ was right, even if her stomach didn't particularly agree with her.

JJ set a glass of orange juice in front of her, then wrapped her in a gentle embrace. "I love you, Em – you know that, right?"

"I know," she whispered, returning the embrace. "Thank you...for letting me stay with you, for taking care of me. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You never have to find out," she vowed. She kissed Emily's temple. Then, softer, "Are you going to the cemetery today?"

It had been six months to the day since the funeral. Six months to the day since Emily had buried her husband, her baby's father. She hadn't been able to bring herself to visit since that first time she'd stood at his graveside and wept as if she was being rent in two by her grief...

Emily chewed her lip anxiously. "I don't know... I-I'm nervous," she admitted. "I don't want him to think I've abandoned him, but God...it's so hard not having him here." She shook her head. "I'm not strong enough to do this without him."

"Em, you are the strongest person I know," JJ insisted. She didn't think she would've been able to do it, were she in Emily's shoes...

Emily didn't seem to believe her, but she smiled her thanks anyway. She didn't feel strong. Didn't feel capable. Didn't feel like even a shadow of the woman she'd been with him at her side.

JJ's phone chimed then. "That's Garcia," she said. "We're supposed to work the finishing details for the Christmas Pen Pal thing today, but if you need me here, I can..."

"Go," Emily urged gently. "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded. She loved JJ and was forever grateful to her for taking her in, but in that moment, all she really wanted was to be alone with her memories.

"Mama, I'm home," Derek sing-songed as he flung the door shut behind him, dropping his suitcase to the floor. He dusted snow off his shoulders, stomped it off his boots. "Your baby boy has returned!"

Fran shuffled into the foyer, looking decidedly worse than he would've liked to see, but she wore a smile and had a ready embrace for him, so he decided not to comment on her appearance. It was getting harder for her to move around this big old house and he'd been pestering her for the better part of a year to let him move her into a smaller place, but she kept refusing on the grounds that it was where she had memories of her husband, her children growing up. If there was one thing Derek had inherited from his mother, it was her stubbornness...

"You're too skinny," Fran scolded, "Have you been eating enough?"

He rolled his eyes. "Mama, you need to stop worrying about me..."

She fixed him with a serious look. "Derek, I am your mother and so long as I'm living, I will never stop worrying about you."

His face fell at those words, though, because they both knew she might not live much longer...

"Don't," she scolded, "Don't look at me like that. I'm fine. I'm going to be fine."

He sighed. "I really wish you'd let me take you to New York or somewhere with specialists and equipment from this century... I know you've been seeing the same doctor since you moved here and you're friends, but you need to see someone who knows..."

"Derek, baby, I love you, but I don't need a lecture on my own treatment," she said firmly.

Sufficiently chastized, he nodded. "I'm sorry, Mama. I just don't want to see anything happen to you."

Smiling softly, she poured him a cup of coffee, set the mug in front of him. "How long do you plan on staying in town?" she asked, settling across from him.

"I'm here for the long haul, actually..." He shrugged. "Mandatory stress leave. Not my idea, but... It is what it is." He didn't seem too thrilled about it, but was trying to put on a brave face for her. "I'm renting a little place up the road for now."

Fran, though, had obviously been side-tracked. "You'll be here all December?"

He nodded.

"You should sign up for the Christmas Pen Pal event!" she exclaimed.

"The what now?" he asked, brow raised.

Fran was positively beaming. "Every year, the town holds this letter writing campaign – people are paired up and write letters to each other over December. They reveal themselves to each other on Christmas Day."

He raised a brow. "When you said 'paired up'...?"

She smiled mischievously. "Based on what you're looking for in a romantic partner," she said quietly.

He groaned, rolled his eyes. "Not this again, Mama..."

"Yes, this again," she insisted. "I want to see my son happy and in love before..."

"Nope. Don't say it. Nothing is going to happen to you."

Fran glared at him. "Derek James Morgan, your mother wants to see you happy."

"And a woman is the answer to that?" he asked skeptically. "Because in the past..."

She shook her head. "When you're ready, certain kinds of girls – the right kind of girls – will find you. It's only when you're ready, though."

He just laughed, stood to kiss the top of her head. "Oh, Mama, I will never get sick of your homespun nonsense."

"It's called wisdom, young man," she teased.

He sighed. "I'll do it," he agreed, "But just so you quit badgering me."