Discriminate: *See Chapter 1*


When the last of his guests quietly trickled out (each giving him one last apology he really didn't need to hear), Derek pressed the majority of his worn out frame against the door. If it wasn't for the fact that in just twelve hours he would be burying his wife, he would be doing everything he could to avoid most of these faces. The only ones who seemed to actually put meaning to the words they said had at one point walked in the shoes he wore now. If he was to take any measure of comfort from any of this it was that. He was not alone. And yet, he couldn't help but hope that at any moment Savannah's key was going to turn in the door, letting out a familiar sigh of exhaustion he couldn't help but chuckle at occasionally.

He almost dared to laugh now, this time without humour. One of the best in her field as an emergency room nurse and she could do nothing to save her own life. How appropriate. Days before a vengeful man dared to hold him at gunpoint; a position he'd put others in for the sake of justice. But it was an entirely different feeling to be on the other side of that gun. And somehow, at the end of it all, he walked away with his life. He had been given the right to see tomorrow. Such had been the story for as long as he had been alive.

As thankful as he was to be spared, he couldn't keep from hating God for leaving him here. As was his usual conflict, Derek had one foot on two very different sides of a fine line. As a kid, it never made one bit of sense to him. Why would something so merciful allow a man to do what he did? Why would someone so giving take from him the one woman he dared to love with all that he had? How was he to keep breathing when everything he loved was being taken from him one tragedy at a time? Barely able to carry his stride, Morgan managed to find his way back to his room, nearly jumping out of his skin when he noticed she was waiting for him.

"Prentiss," he mumbled, the acknowledgement lacking its usual teasing edge. Noticing she was alone, his chest filled with familiar panic. "Where is he?" Noting his expression, Emily rested her hands quietly in her lap.

"He's talking chess strategy with Uncle Reid," she laughed. The answer helped to quiet his blood at least a little. "Well, really he's doing the talking. Hank's doing a lot of listening. Probably sleeping too." Watching the momentary flash of a smile in his eyes, Emily stretched one across her mouth for the both of them.

"What are doing here?" He watched her shrug silently, hesitant invitation in her eyes. For him to join her. Despite wanting nothing more than to be alone in his grief, his body fell like heavy stones against a bed he couldn't for the life of him remember making. Garcia had likely snuck in here when he wasn't around in an attempt to make the space look more livable.

"Mrs. Haze has been looking for you all day," she said quietly. Mention of his mother in law put a firm fist in his throat. While he had lost a wife, and Hank is mother, Mr. and Mrs. Haze had lost their only child. Even with the ache that fed at his bones with the almost sudden realization, he was selfishly glad they didn't stop to talk to him. He was the reason their daughter was dead. How was he supposed to look them in the eye? How was he supposed to mourn when there was a very good chance they quietly blamed them for her death.

"I know," he mumbled even though he made a conscious effort not to. His few words were heavy and trying as they barely managed to excape his throat. Emily rolled her lip, barely able to hold back a few careful words she was ready to give him about her friend's eyes. In all the years they'd worked together, Morgan never deliberately avoided her like this. Given the circumstances she expected nothing less but it still stung just enough.

"Morgan, they were in that line up," she pointed out. Yeah, he knew that to, though part of him expected them to be receiving their own party line of people. Swallowing hard, he wrung his own hands, stretching them out to ease the stiffness of his knuckles. Whether it was thanks to years of partnership or basic profiling, Derek heard the words that never seemed to make it out of her mouth.

"I can't look at them," he confessed. "I can't tell them I'm sorry. Not yet. I know they blame me for getting her killed."

"Derek, what happened to Savannah was not your fault." He rolled his eyes with a scoff of disgust. "It wasn't. He's the one who shot her."

"Because of me," he muttered. Prentiss shook her head, daring to take his hand quietly. Even while knowing her well-placed intentions, he swiftly ripped his hand away. He didn't deserve comfort. Not for this. Not when he was the reason his family had lost so much. Though that was somewhat true, there was a piece to this that her friend was missing almost completely.

"Morgan, they stopped the bleeding," she whispered. Finally, his gaze found hers, a wrinkled brow raised in utter confusion. Who the hell told her anything about what happened at the hospital?

"Garcia called me while you were out there going after him. Girl was more frantic than I'd ever seen her. Pretty sure the only thing that took her over the edge was….the cabin," she said, her own voice catching unexpectedly. Their friend had placed a call then too, every painful word spilling out of her at a pace that only Penelope seemed to manage. Hearing the blonde in such a high level of distress, Prentiss nearly dropped everything to catch the first flight out; much like she had done today. "She was so scared…We all were."

"I know," he managed. He himself was absolutely terrified. "Emily, the only thing that got me out of that place was Savannah." Granted, what saved him was a dream sequence but in this case it might as well be about the same as having her there in person. "I imagined a life with her. I pictured Hank….and his little sister." Now that the woman who would one day give him that had no more days left, he wondered just how much that dream was going to change. "They burned me alive, Prentiss. They set me on fire and all I could think about was getting home to her. All I could hear was anger and frustration. Cause I wasn't home for dinner. Again. It was probably gonna be take out. Usually always is, 'cause she can't make popcorn without burning it," he laughed. "But I was going to miss it."

"You didn't though…"

"Garcia said I was out for three days or something like that, so yeah, I missed it. After that, I swore to her I wasn't ever going to be late for her again. With what we do, it wasn't gonna stick. And I hated myself for that. What kinda life was I gonna give my kid if I wasn't even going to be there for it?"

"Derek, what we do is…It's not exactly a 9 to 5." Something they both knew but for some reason she felt the need to remind him, if for no other reason than to remind hhim that saving people made a difference. Even when they couldn't save everyone. "She was unpredictable too. Garcia says that—"

"That's what made it work. I know." He almost managed a smile at the idea that Penelope kept Emily so up to date on all of their lives. "But what she does…did never got her shot. Her life was never in danger until me."

To say that Emily was surprised to hear any of this would be an understatement. The one factor that made their friendship so operational was their shared desire to stay incredibly private. Whether it was his state of mourning or simply pouring over with thoughts and feelings he tried so hard to keep to himself, Derek was finally trying to have a full conversation. The fact that it was her and not someone like Garcia or his mother left her curious. "Honestly, I don't even know if it was him or not. The point is, I had at least five different versions of it. In just about all of 'em she was the one doing all the work. I was never home on time. The job always came first. Same as it's always been. Can't tell you the number of times I tried to break up with her. Just so I could….spare her the absent husband. My dad had screwed up hours too but, in a lot of ways it was safer. They both worked their asses off but I knew who they were. I had a mom and dad."

Considering the fact that this was the first time he'd really talked all day, Prentiss kept to herself just how scattered his thoughts were. Seeing as she was finally being allowed inside, she wasn't about to point out that he was all over the map. "Now I've got to figure out how to be both and I don't know how. It's not enough that my dad isn't here to teach me anything…"

"Your father taught you plenty," she corrected.

"Nah, I'm 'good' because of my mama. We're all 'good' cause she pulled double duty without breaking a damn sweat. But she had Auntie to lean on. When this is all over, everybody goes back to Chicago. Garcia and Reid go back to work. At some point you're going back to Europe…" Emily blinked. This was the first time…ever she'd heard him talk like this. For a man who was usually able to see a light at the end of the tunnel, he seemed to be missing what was right in front of him.

"Penelope has been here since everything happened, Derek." Again he nodded, not at all surprised that his friend hadn't so much as left the house for more than groceries. "And I can promise you that until you know where you're going, she's not going anywhere. I'm sure you could try and make her but she's not very good at taking directions…."

"She really should go home," he stated. Prentiss quietly shook her head. No amount of repetition was going to send the blonde anywhere and they both knew it. "Garcia shouldn't be putting her life on hold for me." Emily smirked, biting her tongue at the gentle hypocrisy of such a statement.

"That's funny, 'cause I remember someone gluing his ass to her couch, even though she had full detail right outside her door."

"Penelope had been shot. That's different," he mumbled, his heart in his throat at the idea that he had been a few inches shy of losing his best friend.

"Is it?" she whispered. "Morgan, I've seen you drop anything and everything for her. Why wouldn't she do the very same for you?" Derek shrugged. He wasn't sure how to distinguish the two but they were different. They were.

"Because Garcia got better," he finally said. "She came back. Savannah won't. My wife is dead." No matter how many times he dared to say it, they somehow became harder and harder to swallow.

"It hurts like hell right now. I get that. But you're not doing this alone. If you really think you are, think about this. Reid has slept on your couch for about two weeks now. Has he ever done that before?" Derek thought about it for a moment before slowly shaking his head.

"For a few days when he found out about his mom but….I think that's it." Emily nodded, daring to brush careful fingers along his shoulder. "And…you're here," he whispered. "But I…" The truth was, he really didn't know how to be on this side of the equation. All his life he managed to extend hands he didn't have to the people around him. That was the way he and his sisters had been raised. When the coin was flipped, he was left with no idea how to go about any of it. "Honestly, I don't know how to do this," he muttered, his voice trembling despite a conscious effort to hide it.

"Do what?"

"Help…" he confessed. "Growing up I….I took care of them, you know? Mom never specifically said that but…I knew. Dad was gone and it was going to be my job. I was the man. I take that to work too," he admitted. "I don't mean to but it's…It's…."

"It's who you are, Derek. It's why you kick down so many doors. That and…Well, Reid just doesn't have the same effect," she shirked. At that, Derek managed a small smile of his own. "You've devoted your life to this. You keep saying that your dad's not here to teach you anything but…You wear the badge because this is who you were meant to be. You were born to make people feel good," she whispered. Derek rolled his lip, recalling words eerily similar from not too long ago. "You go out there and you make people feel safe. Your father did the same thing. Training can teach us strategy and basic protocol but…what makes you good at your job is….It's inside of you. You don't have to give Reid dating advice—"

"Yeah, I do."

"You don't have to call Garcia six times a day while we're out there." Yes he did. As much as he cared for the others, Penelope offered a bright light in all of the darkness that almost always surrounded them. Without those phone calls, without those little moments, he wouldn't be able to do this job at all. Seeing his change in expression, she quickly corrected herself. "I can pick up a phone just as easily as you can. So can Hotch. Reid too, even though I'm sure she could go without the statistical probabilities he always has ready for us. And you certainly didn't have to be in that warehouse."

"Damn right I had to be there," he almost snapped, remembering all too well the feeling of Emily's warm hands going ice cold in his own. If he dared to think about it without risking being physically sick, he could take a minute to recall her pulse and how it slowly faded right in front of him. "I wasn't going to let you die alone. Nobody deserves to die alone…."

"Do you see where I'm going with this?" Even though he could cling to fragments of it to make the clearest picture, he wasn't sure he deserved it. "You've done everything for this family. The three of us especially. It's time that we give a little bit of that back. I know you don't want it. I know you feel like you don't deserve it." Most of the latter comment was based on her own personal experience but it applied either way. Looking at Derek was a lot like looking into a mirror. The concept wasn't one they took the time to talk about but it seemed to be an unspoken understanding between them. "But you've got it. Whenever you need it, when you're ready for it….you've got it." No matter how thankful he was to hear that, to know it, there was still a part of his important circle she'd missed.

"Emily, she died alone…." he choked. "They kicked me out of the room and…she died alone. There were doctors there, sure. But they didn't know her. They didn't love her. Not like I did. And when you love someone…you're supposed to protect them. I failed her. Over and over and over again I failed Savannah. How am I supposed to live with that? How do I look her father in the eye and tell him how sorry I am? How am I supposed to hug her mom without all of this…."

"Guilt?" Again he bobbed his head slowly, finally able to put a word to the feeling that seemed to be eating him from the inside out in the last two weeks. "Morgan, there is no reason to feel guilty. Not for that. Your job did not kill your wife. Montollo did. He had a choice. And just like every other monster out there, he chose wrong. But that's not on you."

"Emily, he came after me…." Prentiss sighed running a hand over her face in frustration.

"Ian Doyle came after me," she countered. "He would've gone after all of you, after Declan if I hadn't…" she trailed, squeezing his hand more tightly than she intended. "But I am not the reason he killed so many people. It's not my fault he became a criminal."

"The two aren't even related," he pointed out. "The man wanted me dead. And he knew that in order to get to me he'd have to take out the one person who…And he did."

"Derek, your prints aren't on that gun. Savannah's parents aren't going to blame you for what happened to their daughter. Savannah was a grown woman who made her own choices. One of those was the decision she made to be with you. And right now, I don't think anyone's in a position to point fingers or place blame. The only one doing that right now is you. You missed the opportunity to share a moment with your mother in law because you were too busy spinning circles in your head to see anything else. In all their pain, they looked for you. They both did. And they understand that you're not ready. But when you are…. They are going to hug you…and love you, because you made their daughter happy. In the little time you had with her, you made her happy." Despite how logical all of this sounded, the level of good advice he was getting sounded nothing like the Emily he knew.

"Who are you and what have you done with Prentiss?" The woman in question smirked. "You're not supposed to be the one giving me a lecture on freeing up my conscience."

"I've got a little bit of extra time on my hands. My point is I think you should maybe call them. You don't have to talk about anything. Not yet. But at least call them. Let her make sure you're taking care of yourself. I know it's a lie but…"

"It hurts to do just about anything right now, Em. I haven't seen my son in days…And that right there makes me the useless father I'm trying so hard not to be." Emily grimaced. "I….Her eyes," he whispered. "I can't look at my own son because I…I'm just going to see her…"

"Well, I'm not exactly a parent or anything but uh, in this case I think it might be a good thing. It means that, even from….wherever she is, she's making sure you don't do something stupid." Derek laughed quietly, still not sure what he believed in anymore. He'd been to hell and back again more often than he thought any man should be. The people he chose to trust as completely as he did could be counted on one hand. If she really was….looking in on him, he hoped she knew just how much he missed her. "When's the last time you took a shower?" she asked gently. He couldn't remember that at all. His choice to remain silent gave her all the answer she needed. Quietly pulling herself up from the foot of the bed, she extended her hand, paitently waiting for him to take the hint. When he finally did, her smile broadened. "And while you do that, I'm going to go save your son."

"From what? He's okay. As long as he's with one of you he's good."

"He's with Reid, remember?" Derek scowled, that little bit of information completely forgotten in the midst of their impromptu conversation "Unless you wanna be the father of a Spencer Reid 2.0, I'm going to go ahead and rescue him."

"Shooting myself in the face would be more fun than that…."

"That's what I thought. Now, go do your thing. Penelope's got something out there for you when you're ready." No matter how kind the gesture, Morgan's stomach turned at the very idea of food. "If you're not gonna touch it just….make an appearance. Fran's been in the kitchen all day. It's Hell's Kitchen in there with the two of them trying to work around each other."

"Garcia doesn't cook when she's stressed. She drinks. Wine. Lots of wine."

"Not today she hasn't. The baby kind of put the brakes on that. You might wanna come out and free her for a few minutes so she can do that. She's been….on edge. More so than usual…" Derek frowned, a new wave of guilt washing over him at the thought of every one of them spinning circles over him. As Emily prepared to leave, he quietly cleared his throat.

"Mom gave me a check…"

"I know," she mumbled, both of them knowing that he wasn't in fact referring to his own mother in this instance. "You know that's his way of helping." David Rossi didn't exactly go around flaunting his large sums of money. He didn't make any big secret about it though either.

"I'd have preferred him just giving me a bottle of scotch," Derek mumbled. "I'd have a better use for it. I'm not sure what the hell I'm supposed to do with five grand." Emily tried to keep her mouth from falling wide open, the actual amount he'd been given a bit of a surprise. When she failed, he nodded. "I'm not a charity case he can just throw money at."

"Morgan, two hours ago you were talking about quitting your job. I'm not sure if you're still thinking of doing that but…I don't think you're emotionally—"

"Don't," he snapped. "I can figure out Savannah's funeral. I've got the money." Pulling away from the door left slightly ajar, Emily stepped in closer, a slow sigh expelled from her lips when she finally faced him.

"I'm just saying. Right now…you shouldn't have to worry about stuff like that. What you should be thinking about is Hank. Once you have him figured out, the rest of it is…."

"It's a lot of money, Emily. Money he just….gave to me. I bust my ass for everything I bring in."

"We all do, Morgan. But when something like this happens….I think, all you can really do is…"

"I already said thank you," he mumbled, anticipating her next few words already. "But it still doesn't sit right with me." Prentiss shook her head, the smallest smile coming across her lips. Much like herself, Derek Morgan was simply too proud. She couldn't help but admire him for that. Today though, it frustrated her all the same.

"Then leave it at that. If I remember right, the beaurau gave a nice chunk of change to ALS after…"

"That's different," he muttered. "This came out of his own pocket. For no reason."

"Morgan, just say thank you…" she sighed. "Going at this isn't going to change the fact that he gave it to you. He wants to lighten the load. That's why we're all here. Whether you want them or not…It's what families do. I don't have to tell you that. I know it's hard for you to be on the other side of this but that's where you are right now. And until you aren't….we're gonna be here." He couldn't help but wish they weren't. If anything, it was an indication of just how far he had fallen. "I can hop the next flight to London if you really want. But I'd still be calling you to make sure things were going okay."

"I know," he sighed. "I just…I don't how to do this…"

"We know," she mumbled lightly rolling her eyes. "Just….say—"

"Thank you…" The appreciation came out more quietly than he expected but the light shine in her eyes told him he'd been heard.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Derek rolled his lip realizing just how foreign the words felt in his mouth. He had thanked over a thousand people for various things in life but the reason for this one was still new to him.

"It actually was," he admitted. Emily smacked him lightly, quick to turn on her heel if and when he decided to retaliate. "You really wanna help me? Go rescue my kid." As much as they all poked fun at the younger agent, he noticed that Reid had been overly cautious when it came to handling Hank on his own. Maybe part of it had to do with the fact that he hadn't actually held a baby before Henry and even that was years ago. Whatever the case, his son wasn't in any immediate danger. He wasn't at the age where he was actually able to retain anything yet. That was an entirely different adventure, too far down the road to worry about just yet. "And Prentiss?" Turning her head slightly, she raised a curious brow. "Don't ever profile me again."


A/N: Thank you all os much for your continued support with this story