[I was going to do a next-morning chapter, but I felt like this story needed a Derek part. So this is the same thing as last chapter, just Derek's POV.

Enjoy (:]

"There's nothing half so pleasant as coming home again." -Margaret Elizabeth Sangster

Derek closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat, again thinking about what the hell he was doing here.

He contemplated going back home (this was a terrible idea anyway), but he couldn't bring himself to turn the keys in the ignition and leave. He couldn't make himself go back to the house that felt so empty without her in it; the house he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep in.

Letting out a breath, he looked across the street to her new place, taking in the dark windows and drawn blinds. She was asleep; he told himself. He should be too.

But no, instead he was sitting in his car on her street at two am, trying to summon up the courage to go and ring the doorbell.

Somehow, even being here gave him some type of peace. Seeing her house, knowing that she was safe and sound inside lessened the burden a little. But Derek knew the burden would be much lighter if she was in his arms.

And if he was holding her, he knew he would be able to sleep.

Since she'd 'died', Derek had been having issues in the sleeping department. Every time he closed his eyes, all he would see is her on that warehouse floor, breaths irregular, blood seeping underneath his fingers, her face getting paler by the minute. All he would hear is her weak voice telling him to let her go.

So he just wouldn't sleep. He would drink coffee and busy himself with cases, renovating his properties, and finding Doyle.

The first full night of sleep he'd gotten was probably the first night she was back; the first night she stayed at his place.

He remembered how uncomfortable she looked as he made up the guest room for her and told her goodnight, not being able to fully look her in the eyes.

Then, he'd just grabbed some coffee and sat down in front of his TV, not really watching it at all. He was trying to process all of it. He was somehow trying to get all the anger and resentment and broken trust to go away so he wouldn't take it all out on her – she didn't deserve it.

A couple hours later, he'd heard her scream. Derek was in the guest room in seconds, shaking her awake. Her eyes opened in surprise and he saw the tears on her face and her limbs in a tangled mess between the sheets.

Her breathing was heavy and she looked up at him with apologetic eyes. But there was something else in her eyes too - fear.

Derek could've sworn he'd never seen Emily Prentiss scared in his life. But this – the nightmares, they were scaring her. They were hurting her.

So he did what felt like the most natural thing in the world and climbed gently into the bed next to her, putting one arm around her and squeezing her shoulders.

She'd looked at him with question in her eyes, but he'd somehow kept his gaze from faltering.

If she needed this, he would be here. He would help her.

So he did; every night for two months. He let her fall asleep in the crook of his arm and tightened his grip around her every time he felt her stir. He helped her sleep.

But she helped him too. When he felt her asleep on his chest, when he saw her hair sprawled over him, he knew that she was safe. When Derek physically felt her breathing next to him, he was reassured that she was real – she wasn't just a figment of his imagination.

And that gave him peace. That she was close to him, that this time he could protect her if anything happened. That was why he could finally, for the first time in seven months, sleep.

But now, she was gone, and Derek couldn't even bear to close his eyes.

All of a sudden, he saw the lights in her kitchen go on.

He could almost imagine her walking quietly to the kitchen, just to 'get a glass of water'. But she wasn't fooling anyone with that – it had never fooled him. She was going because she, like him, couldn't sleep.

Derek was somehow selfishly comforted the fact that Emily wasn't asleep either.

Yes, it sounded cruel, but it meant that maybe she needed him as much as he needed her. Even if she did though, Derek knew she would never tell him. If Emily Prentiss was good at one thing, it was putting up walls.

So if he wanted this, if he needed this, he would have to make the first move.

He opened the door of his car slowly, letting the cold air hit his face for a second before he stepped out. Somehow, it took him ages longer than usual to close the door and make it to the other side of the street onto her porch.

But eventually, he was there. Derek saw the wind chimes on his left, jingling happily next to the window. He wondered if they were Emily's, or just left by the last occupants of the house.

He'd seen them, he remembered, when he helped Emily carry her things in. He insisted that he help her move, but she protested anyway. Both of them knew though, that it would turn into some form of goodbye.

And it did. As he put the last box down, Emily wore a sad smile and led him out the door. On his way out, Derek had glanced back, finding her looking almost lost, clutching one of the boxes in her arms.

He'd almost gone back to her then. Everything inside him was telling him not to leave her alone in that empty sad house, but his better judgment took over, and he did.

Though somehow, he thought, he would come to regret that decision: regret not going back for her. Damn, maybe he already did.

But there was a line. They had to respect the god-damn line. And, they had to break the habit. It wasn't healthy, for either of them. They had to stop.

He shook his head slightly and raised his hand, knocking on the door quietly. Immediately, he regretted it, but it was too late; Derek could already hear her stirring inside.

She opened the door, surprise written all over her face. She wore sweatpants, which he immediately recognized as a pair of his he'd given her to sleep in, and a tank top. Her hair was up in a destroyed ponytail, and there were major dark circles under her eyes.

"Uh- I... I saw your lights were on...", he sputtered out. God, was that the best he could come up with? Derek couldn't remember when anyone else had ever had him so tongue-tied. But that was Emily for you. She wasn't like anyone else.

She nodded, almost numbly, and stepped aside to let him in.

Derek walked over to her counter, and sat down on the bar stool, taking in the surroundings. The boxes were on the floor where he'd left them; she hadn't unpacked. There was a glass of water on her counter, and the coffee-maker was running loudly.

"I thought you quit caffeine."

She shrugged her shoulders, turning around and looking for something in her cupboard, adding "It's decaf."

Derek watched as she slowly got the milk out of her fridge, stirring it into her coffee for what seemed like an eternity.

And in that moment, she looked so small and fragile. It looked like she would fall apart at any moment. So Derek somehow summoned up the guts to go up behind her and gently touch her on the waist.

Her face was full of surprise as she turned around, but she fell into his arms almost immediately. It was natural for them, it was easy.

He breathed in the familiar scent of her hair and closed his eyes in contentment.

Derek took her by the hand and led her in her bedroom, lying down beside her on the bed.

He caved, because he needed this. They both did.

This was like a drug for them. But just one more time couldn't hurt, right?

She turned her face towards his and opened her mouth, like she was about to say something. Derek could practically hear all the rational, correct things she wanted to say in his head. But then she just closed it and let her head fall onto his chest.

Derek felt the familiar weight on him, he felt her soft skin brushing up against his, and he swore he was home. This was home: her, in his arms. No matter how many properties he renovated and tried to make homey and perfect, they would never feel as perfect as this. He would never feel the mixture of relief and happiness this brought him: having her by his side.

So Derek put all the thoughts about how wrong this was in the back of his mind. Because he could ignore it, just for one night, couldn't he? He could let it go, because here, with her, he would sleep. And god knows he needed the rest.

[So I think I might add a morning chapter, and maybe a couple more, but I'm not sure. What do you think? Review please (;]