Hey everyone! Here is the last installment of this short little Christmas tale. I am considering making a full story out of this, although that was never the intention, but I'm not sold on what I'm going to do either way. Comments and thoughts on this topic are appreciated. Thank you to everyone who read this! You own my heart!

Chapter 3

Gone By Morning Light

"Don't you mess up my kitchen, boy." As Melinda exited her apartment and came through her office to the kitchen, she found various team members scattered about. That wasn't as disturbing as the lone Morgan being the one making food gloriously along her kitchen counters, and using the oven like he owned the place.

"I thought you told us to make ourselves at home. Cooking is messy. I was going to clean up when I was finished." Not wanting to be part of this battle, the rest of the team fled the kitchen. Prentiss with a piece of cake, Hotch with some plates, and Rossi just fled awkwardly and empty handed.

"You're fine. I just always wanted to say that to someone." Morgan did not give her the most pleasant of looks. Gees, people who had always had homes were awfully picky with their humor. "Your friend is going to be fine. The frostbite is superficial. He's changing clothes all by himself, mildly frostbitten hands and all, as we speak."

Melinda tried to comfort him, knowing his worry was the reason for his bite. She began to fill two large pans and one small one up with water, intent on warming them up on the stovetop adjacent to the one Morgan was using. Even when she did make it there, he still hadn't spoken.

"Why don't you let me take care of that. Go see if your friend needs help. I know you want to, and you're skeptical of me." Melinda tried to shoo him away from the food and, more importantly, her oven. He had that look of haphazard firestorm on his face.

"Would you?" There were no 'I'm sorries' here, nor any mention of his true feelings toward her. She hadn't expected there to be.

"Please, you're my guests. You shouldn't be cooking anyway." Although she had invited him to, she hadn't really expected anyone would. She thought they would just wait until she came back to cook them something up. These people were a different kind of people than she was used to.

"You must think I'm a cold person to treat you the way I have. Why are you being so nice to me? You don't know me." Her pure attitude alone made Morgan rethink the way he had treated her. It made him rethink his insecurities about her. He still wasn't set on finding himself comfortable with her, but he was set on trying to.

"No, I don't, but I know that I'd kill to have someone care about me the way you care about your friend."She paused for a minute, realizing what she had said, holding back laughter, becoming a little mortified about how it would be taken, and then finding her composure. "Okay, maybe kill wasn't the right word to use in front of a bar full of FBI agents, but you catch my drift. You're only like this because you're trying to protect him and get him the best treatment possible. You don't know me either. So far I'm just some crazy girl from the streets that literally runs into gun wielding serial killers. That doesn't exactly spell out the best help for your friend. I get that, but although I don't know him, I believe in doing no harm. I really am just trying to help. That's all. There's no ulterior motive."

"You have to understand this isn't personal. I'm a profiler and...well, I think you know how you profile. I do apologize, though." There was something very steadfast about Morgan. The way he stood, the way he talked, this gentility he had to him that she had not seen before. It made her rethink him as well.

"Your profiles aren't usually off, are they?" It was just a tidbit she had picked up on. By the way he was acting, you'd think he was never wrong.

"It happens, but it's rare. You might just be the exception." His voice fell soft, something she wasn't sure he'd be able to break into. She was glad, though, to not feel like one person was completely against her trying to help.

"I worked hard to be the exception, Morgan. I don't take credit for a lot of things, but that I do. I know who and where I would have been had I stayed in foster care and been passed back and forth from one family looking for a government pay out, to another. The life I chose wasn't easy, and I never took my decisions lightly, but I don't regret the life I have for myself. I don't expect anyone to understand that." She was an anomaly in a world that had a lot of bad, and she didn't doubt for a minute that he had stared down the belly of some true beasts. But Melinda believed you made decisions and took responsibility for your choices, allowing you to be whoever you chose to be.

"I don't, but I would like it if you would call me Derek, if you're okay with that."Although she would never show it; her upbringing had taught her not to, she breathed a sigh of relief knowing now she could truly help Reid without a naysayer in the room. Even though she tried to hide it, Morgan caught it.

"I am, thank you." Not wanting to make eye contact with him, or show more vulnerability than was necessary in the situation, she focused her attention on the water she was warming up, adjusting the dials on the stove accordingly. "And Derek, your friend doesn't get me either. The way I figure it, one could try to understand me, two could discuss it together, but three people thinking about this would just be a waste of resources."

"I'll keep that in mind. You're a very interesting girl." Morgan chuckled for the first time that day. She definitely wasn't what he had in mind when they had first met.

"Derek, I'm a special kind of special. It's been said." She shook her head, smirking. She knew what she was, and more importantly who, but as she had tried to explain to these people so many times before, she didn't expect them to understand it.

"And that doesn't bother you?" She crinkled her nose, astounded he would ask that, treating it as if it were some kind of insult.

"Not when it's true." He stared at her, raising his eyebrow as if to ask her if it was. "It's true. You should go check on your friend. He's been in there awhile. Maybe he got lost in his shirt sleeve. I'm concerned."

Melinda expected him to move, rightfully so, especially when she was trying to get him to in order to shift the subject off of her. Only, he didn't move. He didn't even try. Instead, he leaned up against the kitchen counter, and watched her as she juggled the water and what he was cooking, periodically glancing up at him.

"Melinda, there is so much I don't understand about you, and there's a lot of answers I'm not going to get because of that, but I think there's something you can clarify for me. Why is it that, when you talk about someone in context, as opposed to directly to them, that you don't use their name?" Melinda put down the spoon she was using to stir the homemade barbeque sauce that Morgan had been trying to heat up, and leaned against the counter on the opposite side of the stove, becoming an exact mirror image to him.

"It's a perspective thing. I just don't get close to people generally, if I don't have to. Even if I do, sometimes I just lie and fake it. The only reason I use names when talking directly to people is out of respect." The lying and the faking of emotions is why she always considered herself a grifter. Although she was forthcoming with certain information that wouldn't wind her back in the system, she was never honest about how she felt about anyone, but only because she didn't let herself feel a thing so she couldn't get attached when the truth was unraveling and it was time for her to move on.

"You can change that, you know." Melinda diverted her eyes, going back to stirring the sauce. Her mind forgot to remind her that it was a bad idea to talk about this, and that she should move on. These were very disarming people.

"Can I? Because I'm not so sure letting someone in after what I've been through is a good idea. Not just for me, but mostly for them. I'm a lot to handle. I'm reckless. But I know all of this. I wouldn't do that to someone else." She paused again, doing something she rarely did and looking Morgan in the eyes. "What is it with you people and your ability to make me over share just by being here?"

"We're not twisting your arm to talk." He crossed his arms, serious.

"Damn it. I know. I just feel like if I'm blatantly honest with you all, you'll trust me with your friend. I never cared much if anyone trusted me, except when someone needed me. I kind of like being needed here and there. I like to help." She paused again. "Damn it. Go check on your friend so I'll stop over sharing."

"Not to be ungrateful, but I don't think pink is really my color. Do you maybe have anything else I could wear?" Before Morgan had a chance to move a muscle, Reid came out from the office. It was a much needed interruption that only garnered laughter from Morgan.

"I'm sure I do, but nothing less girlie, and probably not anything you'd fit into as well." She wasn't the local thrift shop, although you probably couldn't tell that just by looking in her closet.

"What am I supposed to do, then?" This just made Morgan snicker harder.

"Kid, you're supposed to suck it up, wear the clothing, and say thank you." Morgan dropped his head and rubbed between his temples. This was the first time Melinda had truly seen him let go of the stick in his butt and realize everything really was going to be okay.

"Thank you?" This came out as a complete question, not a statement. It was obvious Reid was going to say something else, when Morgan held up his hand to stop him.

"Welcome. Now, what do you want to eat? I know you were complaining about your tummy talking back earlier." To emphasis the thought of food, she went over to the grill to check on the hamburgers Morgan was sizzling. They looked good and done, so she removed them from the grill, motioning for Morgan to come and do something with them, or let her know what was supposed to go on them.

"I don't know, food." To Reid, this wasn't a smart ass answer. He didn't have a menu, or know what they served here.

"Awesome." Melinda shrugged and made her way to the refrigerator. That was a good enough answer for her. As she was rummaging through it, pulling things out here and there, Morgan spoke where Reid's silence was.

"Wait, aren't you going to ask him to specify. He's a picky eater." Melinda shrugged again, coming back to the grill with two pieces of chicken, one for her and one for Reid.

"Nope. If you're smart ass enough to say 'food' in my bar, you get what I want to make. Since I'm hungry for chicken, he's getting it, too." She caught Reid out of the corner of her eye attempting to say something. "And you're going to like it." That shut his trap. "Now, you go sit out at the bar, and I will be out in a little bit to start treating your frostbite, Spencer. Derek, you stay back here with me and help me put these burgers together. I don't know what any of you all want on them."

Reid overly dramatically hobbled his way out to the bar, minus his shoes. Morgan called after him, "You're so dramatic, Reid."

Reid ignored him and kept walking. Melinda turned to Morgan, still a little shaky about her newly found ally. She hadn't had any reservations about Reid, but that was mostly because of his naivety. She knew she had one up on him when it cam to social graces and who hurt who, but Morgan could be the one person who was more street smart than she was, and that scared her.

They made small talk about the weather and other neutral topics, while he helped her piece together what he and three other members of his team wanted on their sandwiches. It must have been nice, she thought, to be close enough to one person, far more three people, to know what they liked on their sandwiches. The only people whose sandwich she knew how to make were her regulars, and it wasn't like they were any friends of hers, but that was their own doing.

Once the sandwiches were done, Morgan offered to take them out to the rest of the team, while Melinda worked on testing the three pots of water for the right temperature, and getting them out to Reid. He was getting put on the back burner again, no pun intended. Just as she had carefully predicted and timed, the water was ready, so she started with one pot, taking it out to him. When she reached the bar, she saw the FBI agents had zero problems making themselves at home. She stood back for just a second and watched how, in their own way, they really were some kind of twisted family to each other. They loved each other. She wished she had love of any kind.

Finally peeling her eyes from the team, she walked to the bar and across from Reid, setting the pot in front of him. Before she said or did anything else, she got in one of her drawers behind the bar, pulling out some Tylenol and pouring some whiskey, and then handing them both to Reid.

"Here, Sugar. Take three of these, and then put your hand in the water until I tell you to take them out." She crossed her legs, propping herself against the bar and waiting for him to do as he was told.

"You can't be serious." She put out her hands as if to ask what the problem was, and what he thought she wasn't serious about. He explained. "You're not supposed to consume alcohol while taking any kind of pain reliever. Don't you have water or something? And is it really sanitary for me to stick my hands in this pan? Don't you cook food with this?"

"Ah, a boy who can't shoot his whiskey. I keep forgetting who I'm dealing with. And yes, the general idea is to use that pan to cook with, but they're my pans and I'll do what I want with them. I can always buy new ones, but I think nipping your frostbite in the bud is more important than worrying about my pans right now." She took the whiskey away, downing it for herself in one go, before pouring him some soda, the only non alcoholic thing she had on tap and at her nearest dispose. Instead of doing anything, he just stared at her. "What?"

"I don't take any kind of drugs." He was firm about this. She thought he was overreacting over a few stupid over the counter painkillers, but that wasn't for her to say.

"And you tell me this now?" She looked at him as if he was going to change his mind, but he didn't. "Look, you do what you want, I'm not your mother. But I'm just warning you that sticking your fingers in that pot of water is going to hurt like hell as you thaw out. You can't say I didn't warn you."

She left him to his own devices, going back and getting the other pot of water. When she came out, instead of having another conversation with him that would no doubt end ridiculously, she gave him no words for choice. She bent down, took his socks off and shoved his feet in the water with ill regard to what it looked like. She knew she had shocked the team with her gruff demeanor, and when Reid started to complain about the pain from thawing out, she simply repeated what she had said before. "You can't say I didn't warn you." She wouldn't take fault where none was due.

She made one more round back in the kitchen, this time swinging by her apartment to grab two washrags, before coming out with the last pan of water. She sat it down in front of Reid. "I'm just going to leave this here for a hot second. If any of you want to dip these washrags in water and hold them up to his ears, feel free to do so. It will help take the frostbite away. I'm going to go and get our food."

She left them to their own devices again, taking the food off the grill. She made up her sandwich with all the fixings, but since Reid was picky, she only put barbeque sauce on his and decided he was going to like it. She took fries out of her deep frier, the leftovers from what Morgan put in earlier. Balancing both plates gently in her hands, she flung back out into the bar to find Emily tending to Reid's ears, while he complained like a little girl, high pitched voice and all. As soon as he caught sight of Melinda, he stopped, but she was already on to him.

"Here, Cowboy, here's your picky eater food. No complaining. It's a Jolene kitchen rule, you see." She sat the food down in front of him, and Emily backed away, presumably giving him room to eat.

"I'm not sure how I'm supposed to eat this without some help." It took Melinda a minute to see he was saying this because his hands were deep inside a pan of water and he didn't have the sense to take them out. She was going to point out that feeding him was a little above and beyond her duty, and it didn't look like anyone else was even going to touch that one with a ten foot pole, but she found a better comeback.

"You mean you don't have four arms?" She said this very seriously. Instead of laughing, he just stared at her, his eyes glazing over like he was at a college lecture. Actually, that may have been a bad analogy, because she thought he was the type that quite liked lectures.

"He doesn't get sarcasm." Rossi spoke up to answer her curiosity about the stupid face he was making.

"That would have been good to know earlier. He probably hasn't gotten half of what I've said." She looked at Reid, preparing to use his first name, but again she just couldn't. There was something sincere in his eyes that kept her from addressing him properly. "Sugar, just take your hands out of the pan for now and eat. It won't kill you. You're in a warm place now."

"Melinda, is he going to be okay?" She took a bar stool and pulled it to the edge of the counter, next to Reid. She wanted to sit by him, to watch over him.

"He's going to be just fine, Mr. FBI Man. Like I was telling Derek here, his frostbite is superficial. Just keep him out of the cold for the next few days and he'll be fine. He's lucky the frostbite is only on his hands, feet and earlobes. It could have been a lot worse." She dug into her food, trying not to talk with her mouth open. She didn't have the best manners. She never had to be taught.

"I told you, those trees were warm when I was under them." She smiled, feeling like something was happening. She was relating to someone in a different way that she didn't know existed, for the first time in her life. It didn't escape the team that Reid was also trying to connect, but was feeling very vulnerable right now, which may have been how this was all happening.

"Right?" All eyes were on her, like she was in on this little secret that none of them knew; a secret about her secret place. She started to shake, uncomfortable with the attention she was getting, so she tried to divert it. "Hey, what do you say we listen to some music?"

She got up, switching on the stereo system to the place. The entire team, save for Rossi, groaned. There were various mumbles of their distaste for country music floating about the room. "Really, you're going to complain about country music, in a country bar, where you're getting fed for free? You FBI are interesting folk. Haven't you ever heard the saying 'never look a gift horse in the mouth?"

"No. Does it refer to a literal gift horse, or is that slang for something?" Morgan laughed so hard he choked on his food. While he choked, Melinda took the time to respond.

"Neither. Just eat your food." Reid seemed absolutely astounded that someone he didn't know would shut him down so quickly. He was used to getting laughed at, commented on, or ignored, but she just straight out moved on with the subject and that was that. It was like what she said was his martial law.

"It's good to have you back, Kid. It's good to have you back. You had us worried." He put his food down, reaching over from the seat next to Reid to pat him on the back. Then his demeanor changed. "Don't you ever, ever do that to us again. When we tell you to lock the doors and stay put, we mean it. That doesn't mean open the doors if someone knocks because you carry a gun. You're not a particularly agile human being. Defending yourself isn't your thing."

"In my defense..." He stopped talking. Everyone stared. He couldn't come up with one thing to say. "I was scared for my life, too. If it wasn't for Melinda, you would have a lot to explain to my mom. Melinda saved my life."

"Okay...will you just...will you stop with the whole 'I saved your life' thing? You are completely over-exaggerating this. Like Derek said earlier, and I quote, 'you're so dramatic, Reid." She was getting fed up with being made into some over-glorified hero to Reid. She got that, to him, maybe that's what she was, but she was just an ordinary girl, who just wanted to be left alone and treated as an ordinary girl.

"Dramatic? I don't think I'm being dramatic at all! In case you forgot, you charged the man who had a gun to my back and took him down with no regard for your own life. What exactly do you call that?" Reid finished his food, and it was a good thing, too, because he had no time to think about eating while he was protesting.

"Helping out law enforcement. And Sugar, your dramatics are probably why there's not a ring on that pretty little finger of yours." She was only halfway done with her food, but she couldn't stomach any more. She set it down on her plate, intent on ignoring this subject when music saved her life, but didn't save her from the stares of the FBI, who were wondering why she was noticing his ring finger. "Okay, I love this song. Who is going to dance with me?"

"Sorry. I'm getting too old to dance with a pretty, young lady like yourself. I was never a good dancer to begin with." Rossi declined her gently, although he thought if no one else would dance with her that he would reconsider.

"Huh uh. I can't get down to country music." Morgan made a motion in his chair, one that indicated exactly how he got down. She didn't think she could keep up with that kind of dancing.

"I'm just not doing it." She almost laughed at Hotch's assertiveness. He was so very serious without realizing how he came across. It was clear to her that he could bite if needed, but his bark was far likely worse.

Melinda gave it a good thirty seconds, the beginning of Keep You from Sugarland playing in the background. Everyone but Emiy and Reid had resisted, and since dancing with Emily would be awkward, she decided to pull an unsuspected Reid off his seat. How he didn't see this coming she did not know. "All right, you. Up."

"Me? What? Why? I don't dance. I don't even know how to dance. And did you forget about my frostbite?" Reid didn't even have time to process that he had been singled out before his feet were already pulled out of the pan they were in. She was dancing to this song. He was joining her.

"You're not dying. As we say on the streets, 'get off your ass, you're fine.' You're going to dance with me." She pulled him a few feet from the bar to where the floor opened up, pulling him into her. She liked to dance when she heard music, and with someone, if she could. She never felt anything before, so she hadn't expected to feel it now. But there were sparks when she pulled him close, and she wondered if he felt them, too.

"I'm sorry that I'm no good at this. I did tell you I couldn't dance." Reid didn't waste anytime defending his two left feet. Melinda didn't care about that. The dance was slow, sweet, and all he had to do was follow along. More importantly, the dance was in front of his whole team, and nothing was going to happen. She knew all eyes were on them.

"You're doing just fine. This isn't a contest. I'm not exactly Little Miss Twinkle Toes either." She kept trying to adjust and readjust herself. She couldn't put her hand in his and risk rubbing the frostbite on it, so she had her hands on his hips like he should have done with her. Instead, he had placed them over her neck at her willing so that he didn't actually have to touch anything.

"I know you don't want to hear this, but maybe you'll let me sit back down if I tell you. You really did save my life." Reid wanted out of dancing, feeling butterflies in his own heart that he didn't care to deal with, or reveal in front of his entire team. What made this all the harder was that they were face to face and so close, but not close enough that either could hide their expressions from the other.

"Well, let's try not to think of it that way. I'm just going to consider it payback for Jolene's murder." Even though she continued to tell herself she would help anyone in danger, and she would, she'd like to think that maybe somewhere down inside she would have thought before charging a gun toting individual. It was scary to think she would go that far, but maybe, just maybe she had been doing it fueled by the ghost Jolene. Instinct took over, telling her this was the man who took the only friend she ever had, and the only person she didn't grift, was the one who almost took Reid's life.

"You know, I was thinking about you being Melinda, Just Melinda. Why don't you use Jolene as a last name? You can't bring her back, but you can honor her memory." Emotions flowed through her like a river, as the song came to a close. Truth be told, she could have stayed this close to Reid for the rest of the night, dancing to one song after another, but her emotions couldn't. She was breaking every rule in her book just by being close to him, and she knew that from the moment their eyes met.

"Melinda Jolene." She whispered to herself thoughtfully, pulling away from him and breaking the trance of their own little world. "Well, why don't we get some aloe on you frostbite and get you wrapped up so you and your team can be on your way."

Reid was thrown immediately. How could someone go from being so close to him, to just pretending like the dance that was asked of him hadn't happened. He started to think he was silly and even more naive than he gave himself credit for. What he had been feeling must have only been on his end, because he hadn't wanted to break apart that easily. In fact, he had forgotten about his entire team that was looking on.

Melinda's hospitality was running out. She worked quick to concentrate only on what she was doing, not on what her heart was thinking. She barely listened to it, anyway. It was useful the one time she decided to flee the state home, but had she listened to it past that, she would have been dead. She knew she couldn't do this. She couldn't drop her guard or let herself think of someone this way for a second longer, especially someone who would be gone with the morning light.

She made small talk with everyone while she worked, and then allowed Reid to discuss his whole feat in detail. She had pieced together what she could, so the details didn't much matter to her. It would only get her more involved. Getting to know these people was like being sucked into a cult. She felt like she could pick up and follow them anyway, divulging her innermost secrets and still feel human with them, which was more than she was getting out of this town. This made her realize that it wasn't all people that were bad, just the ones she had met in her small part of the world. Maybe Morgan was right. Maybe she could make some changes in her life, but that require giving up everything she finally found, and she knew that practicality would always come first for her.

As soon as she had Reid bandaged, the cheerful banter dying down, her place hopping with more heart than it had since Jolene passed, she tried to find the nicest way to bid them ado. Her best excuse was that she was tired. The worst was that everyone knew she was lying. She hated to send them on their way, what with Reid and how he wasn't supposed to chill the mildly frostbitten areas again. She gathered Reid's clothes from her apartment irregardless, and before she knew it he had followed her into her apartment.

She found herself offering up Jolene's house for them to stay in. It was fifty feet out the back of her apartment, which was better than letting him freeze his way across town. The house was large, old, and had been cleaned by a crime scene team. She hadn't planned on letting anyone in there, but she heard Jolene's voice in her head telling her to let them skip the twenty minute walk and stay there. She couldn't argue it.

As she flocked the team out the back door, she was already imagining the things she'd say to Reid when they came to say goodbye in the morning. She was already bracing for a goodbye that shouldn't matter. But as morning light came and she awoke, she found them already gone. She didn't know it, but it was Reid's doing. He also didn't know how to say goodbye very well, because he had too many of those in his life. He accepted his feelings were null and he moved along. The rest of the team knew why, after a night of frostbite and kidnapping turned around by a mysterious women, he was so eager to get out of there without a good night's sleep under his belt.

But before he left, he stuck one single note in the mailbox to the bar, knowing she wouldn't set foot in Jolene's house, and he couldn't face her again. When Melinda found it that afternoon, she was surprised and had some trouble deciphering his chicken scratch. When she did manage, she saw him caring, telling her that she wouldn't have to be a social security number anymore. She could be a real girl, human, something she wasn't sure she had ever felt. He was going to make a few calls and make sure Melinda Jolene was registered in the books. She could finally have an identity, something she had searched for her whole life.

But better than that gift wasn't just the one of closure she had gotten on Jolene's case by helping a stranger being held at gunpoint, but the phone number written in a different pen by a different hand at the bottom of the letter. As the snow continued to fall again, orchestrating its own song, she heard Morgan's words echo in her ears. She heard him telling her she could change, and instantly she knew the phone number was Reid's, and had been a gift from him. How she chose to use it would be up to her. All she knew was that, although unconventional, this was the bestChristmas she had ever had.