Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, Criminal Minds.

Merci beaucoup for all of your lovely reviews. I value each of them. Sorry this part took a bit longer than others. Please enjoy.

Angel

Part 11

By
N. J. Borba

"Hello, Emily."

She opened her eyes, confused by the familiar voice but unfamiliar surroundings. The room she stood in was very white with a single bed and only one piece of artwork hanging on the wall; an enlarged photo of a beach scene. Machines lined the wall behind the bed and Emily finally looked down at the person laying there. "Oh, crap," she whispered, staring at the paleness of her face, a line of stitches down the left side of her head and some pretty nasty bruising and swelling around her eye. "Am I dead?"

"No, you're not dead," another voice spoke. "Yet."

Emily turned to discover the source of both voices. She found Matthew standing to her right, looking exactly how she remembered him as a young man. And John was leaning against a wall in the corner of the room. His fifteen year old body was scrawny, with green eyes and close-cropped hair that his ex-military father had insisted upon, and which John had always detested. "Yet?" she questioned the term he'd used.

"And hopefully not for another forty years or more," Matthew jumped in, aiming a blue-eyed glare at John. "Could you please not scare her," he admonished.

"So…" she sighed, still staring at the teenaged versions of her old friends. "Then why am I seeing dead people? Are the two of you angels?"

John laughed dismissively. "Not even close."

"But you're both young. Why is that?" Emily asked, ever the investigator. "Is this some Christmas thing? You two are here for one of those 'It's a Wonderful Life' type interventions, right?" She glanced down at her unconscious body again. "And if I don't wake up by midnight on Christmas I'll turn into a pumpkin."

"Um," Matthew shook his head. "I think you're mixing fairytales and movies." He and John exchanged shrugs. "We're just as clueless as you are about what's going on here. Could be a dream for all I know," the boy suggested.

She didn't take time to try and figure it out. "I'll make this real easy for all of us. I sacrificed myself willingly in order to keep Doyle from hurting anyone else I care about. So, I'm okay with death. They'll all be better off without me anyhow." Emily groaned, annoyed at herself. "And now I even sound like a movie character," she lamented.

"I see three people in this room right now who wouldn't be better off without you," Matthew said as he waved a hand toward a section of the room Emily hadn't explored yet.

Her head turned to find three figures huddled in another corner. Reid sat beside Angie on an oversized chair, a huge oval window on the exterior wall behind them. Declan was kneeling across from them, a low wooden table between them. Paper cups littered the table, stained by the remnants of coffee and orange juice. And there was a travel size chess board set up, which had a lot more black pieces in play than white. Spencer grabbed one of the black pieces and slid it across the board. "Checkmate," he declared.

Declan frowned, his blue eyes clouded by defeat. "I'm going to sit with Emily," he announced, getting to his feet and moving toward the bed.

Angie nudged Spencer's left side with her elbow. She held a hand to her mouth a second later when she remembered his injured ribs. "I'm so sorry," the girl apologized. "But," her head nodded toward Declan. "You could've let him at least win one game."

"Let him win?" Reid pondered the foreign words. "You can't win unless you… win," he let her know.

Soft laughter escaped her lips. "So profound, Dr. Reid," Angie teased him. "I just meant, well… he's pretty lost right now. His parents died two days ago and Emily…" her train of thought faded as she stared at the bed where Declan had his head resting against Emily's thigh. "The poor kid could use a boost, you know."

"But letting him win would be a lie," Reid pointed out. "Kind of like you and Emily lying to me."

Her eyes turned back to the man she'd grown to care about very deeply, even more so after their ordeal. "I'm sorry I lied to you. It was wrong. I have no excuse."

"Morgan said it was probably because you wanted to please her," Spencer replied, resetting the chess board.

"He's right," Angie agreed.

Reid reached down and nervously grabbed the leather commuter bag at his feet. He could see that Angie was worried and he felt bad for even bringing up the lie. It didn't matter so much, not when Emily was still unconscious. Mostly he wanted to do something to take Angie's mind off the past forty-eight hours. "I probably should've given you this earlier," Spencer said as he pulled a small square box out of his bag. "Christmas morning is usually the time for gifts, but everything has been a little… well, here," he placed it on her lap.

A smile lit her face even before she opened the silver box and pulled the gift out. "It's lovely," she held the wooden star in her hands, though uncertain about what it was for.

"It's a puzzle," he informed her. "And there's this story that goes along with it, about some prince who catches a fallen star for a fair maiden and…"

"That little rat," Emily shook her head, though it didn't seem they knew she was present. "I can't believe he's using my story after giving me crap for it."

"Proves to me that he admires you," Matthew said.

John chuckled. "And you're the one who told him to be creative with his gift to her."

"How do you know about that?" Emily sighed, still massively confused about what was going on. John only shrugged as they listened to the rest of the conversation.

"I'm probably not recounting it right, I think it's meant to be romantic," Reid said as he showed her how to take the puzzle apart. "Emily told me that story a month ago while we were returning from a case. Even with all that's been going on lately she still seems to believe in this romantic stuff. My idea of romantic would be to tell you you're pulchritudinous."

Angie chuckled and kissed him on the lips, briefly, but tenderly. "Thank you, Spencer," she whispered. "This means a lot to me, the gift as well as knowing Emily is a fan of fairytales." Seconds later she presented the star to him, fully pieced together.

"You always did like fairytales," John smiled softly; more of the shy boy Emily remembered peeking out. "Always thought everything was going to work out for all of us," he recalled.

"When did that optimism fade?" Matthew asked.

She paid little attention to them, not wanting to answer the tough question. "They're actually kind of cute together," Emily remarked, still focused on Angie and Reid. "And both too darn smart for their own good," she marveled at the puzzle her daughter had figured out in moments.

"You know what they say about apples falling from trees," John quipped. "You sell yourself short, Emily. She's smart and beautiful because she takes after you."

"Yeah, well… let's just hope that's the only way in which she takes after me," Emily replied. In a further attempt to avoid Matthew and John, she let her eyes fell upon Declan. He was still pressed against her body, which remained motionless on the bed. His delicate fingers rested against hers. Emily could hear him whispering something and moved closer to get a better listen. Her non-corporal form crouched beside the boy.

"I know he was a bad man," Declan spoke with a heavy heart. "I remember him hitting me once when I was little. What if I'm like him? I don't want to be a bad person," he took a shaky breath. "You always said I could talk to you about anything if I wanted. I need to talk to you now, Emily."

Matthew stood right beside her again. "Sure sounds like he needs you."

Emily tried to reach out and touch the boy, but her hand went through him. "Shit," she swore. The room's door opened and closed, causing her to turn around. Her eyes widened as she spied the last people she'd been expecting to find in her hospital room. Elizabeth Prentiss stood there by the door looking rather out of place. "Oh, this is just perfect," Emily sighed dramatically. "Apparently I'm not even safe from my mother while unconscious."

John and Matthew made no comments.

"Ambassador," Reid instantly shot to his feet. "It's, uh… good to see you again," he greeted the woman as he stood with arms stiffly at his side, feeling somewhat like he was in the presence of royalty. He watched Angie stand, curiosity about the woman flooding her dark eyes. The ambassador nodded in acknowledgement of his words, but said nothing. Reid promptly went to Emily's bed and placed a hand to the boy's shoulder. "Declan, would you like to go and get some hot chocolate?" he offered.

The child sat up. He caught the intense looks being shot between the women in the room and knew Reid was trying to make excuses to leave. "Okay," he agreed.

Angie watched them go, thankful for Spencer's exit. She turned her attention fully to the older woman once they were alone in the room. "You're her mother," the words were not a question. The resemblance between all three of them was quite obvious.

"And you must be Angie, the child she gave away," Elizabeth was blunt. "You look like her," she said. The girl nodded and then they stood starring at one another for several long seconds. "I'm afraid I don't know what to say here," the older woman finally admitted. "All my years of diplomatic service and I'm at a loss for words."

"That makes two of us," Angie relaxed a little just to have that out in the open. "I mean, not the diplomatic service part, but… you know," she stumbled over her words as she moved to sit in the chair Declan had vacated. "I don't think they make greeting cards for this sort of occasion." Angie took one of Emily's hands in hers.

Elizabeth's brows bunched as she edged closer to her daughter's bed. She clutched her purse like a lifeline. "I suppose she's told you I'm mean and nasty."

"No," Angie looked up, quick to dispel any such notion. "But I gather your relationship is strained."

A small bit of relief washed over Elizabeth as she sat her purse down on the foot of the bed. "It wasn't always," her voice softened a little as she regarded the injuries her daughter had sustained. "When Emily was a little girl she looked up to me, wanted to be just like me."

The young woman smiled softly to hear that. "What changed?"

"I did." Elizabeth finally sat down across from Angie. She took her daughter's other hand. "I blamed myself for your father's… condition," she spoke to Emily more so than the younger woman. "I had a successful career and he floundered from job to job. So, I thought having a family would help him find a purpose. I thought a baby would make our family life complete," she actually smiled. "We adored you. We were a family with you in our lives, and your father was truly happy… until the next bout of depression hit."

Liz's eyes darkened as years-worth of buried emotions rushed forth. "When your father died… after he killed himself," she admitted. "I changed. Not for the better. I felt that it had been my fault. I feared I hadn't been a good enough wife or mother, so I shut myself off. I married Victor because he was a good match politically, for my career. Not a great deal of romance there," she revealed with regret.

"I sent you to the best schools thinking that was all you needed," Liz continued. "And I never talked about what happened to your father, because I thought if I didn't talk about it then it would never affect you." Her eyes moved to settle on Angie. "I was foolish. And I taught my daughter to be the same as me, to never let anyone get close."

Angie smiled reassuringly. "That wasn't so hard to admit, was it?"

"Excruciating," Liz replied. But she cracked a very thin smile. "I just hope it's not too late to tell her again when she can hear me."

Emily was stymied, but amazingly touched by what she'd just witnessed. "I heard you, mother," she said, though they couldn't hear her.

xxx

The room stayed the same, but the clock on the wall spun as Emily remained rooted to the floor by her hospital bed. Next thing she knew, Scott had entered the room and greeted Angie with a hug. Emily momentarily felt jealous of his presence there. "I thought that was it," Emily said as she spotted Matthew and John again. "Before, with my mother. She apologized, so I'm supposed to wake up now, right?"

They both shrugged, but said nothing.

"Oh, I forgot. You two know nothing about what's going on here," her eyes rolled.

"Do you want to wake up?" John finally asked.

"Because earlier you said you made the sacrifice willingly, and no one would miss you," Matthew pointed out.

Emily sighed, "Just what I need, the nit-picky ghosts of Christmas past." She successfully avoided John's question, though.

"Any change?" Scott asked his daughter as they broke apart.

Angie's head shook. "The doctor told us it would probably be about twenty-four hours before the swelling went down. And that she'd wake up after that." She wrapped arms around her stomach. "But it's been nearly forty-eight hours now and…"

Scott smiled as he ran a gentle hand along her cheek. "Sometimes doctors don't know everything," he tried to assure her. The two of them walked to Emily's bed and he stood at the foot, looking down at the woman. "I said some horrible things to you the other day. Granted, I was very worried about Angie, but still I had no right. I know you did what was best for your baby girl, and I thank God every day for Angie coming into my life."

"Daddy," Angie bit back tears. "I'm pretty sure she doesn't blame you," the girl let him know, recalling how Emily had assured her of his love while they were locked away.

He nodded slowly, but he kept his eyes on Emily. "When I saw Miranda after her accident," Scott gulped. "She was hooked to life support, but the doctors said there was nothing to be done for her. I had to make the decision to let her go, and it was the hardest decision of my life," he explained. "But the one thing that I was thankful for during it all was that Angie never had to see her mother like that," Scott whispered. "If you could wake up real soon I'd appreciate it, because she doesn't need to see you like this."

Not sure if she was a ghost or not, Emily still felt a lump in her throat. "I swear, if they hold hands and start singing carols… I'm heading toward the light."

Matthew smiled. John shook his head at her.

Scott and Angie stepped out of the room, leaving Emily with her fellow spirit friends. The clock kept spinning, heading toward midnight. Part of her actually wondered if she would turn in to a pumpkin or maybe just melt away. "Am I going to die?" she finally asked, fear lacing her tone. Emily turned to see Matthew and John wearing blank faces. The room was completely silent, aside from the slow steady beep of her heart monitor.

The door opened again.

Emily expected a nurse, but was pleasantly surprised by her visitor. With hands on her hips, she regarded the man. "Where the heck have you been all day?"

He carried a black duffle bag over to her bedside and dropped it by the floor. Derek then turned away, barely having glanced her way. "This place is a mess," he noticed the cluttered table and went about tossing cups and other food wrappers in the trash. Morgan stowed Reid's chess pieces inside the travel board and placed it on the expansive windowsill. Then he continued to straighten the small room.

"What are you doing?" Emily asked, never having seen him so tidy before.

With the room pretty much spotless, Derek finally sat by her bed. He was a good two feet from the bed, though. His elbows rested on jean-clad knees as he rubbed hands over his shaved head. Morgan looked at the floor as he spoke. "Sorry I haven't been here much. I doubt it will surprise you to know that the FBI brass doesn't even take holidays off. The team and I have spent most of today and yesterday fielding questions about what happened with Doyle," he explained.

"Really?" she frowned. "Then why was Reid here all afternoon with Angie and Declan?"

"And then there's your condo," he sighed, sitting up a little. His eyes briefly looked to her bed then shifted to the wall behind her. "It's become a half-way house. Declan has been staying there with me the last two nights. Garcia's there with him now. And of course Resi and Maggie," he almost laughed. "They've been getting on like cats and dogs do. Afraid that vase near the entry got shattered," Derek shrugged apologetically.

Her head shook. "I don't give a crap about that vase, Derek." She watched John and Matthew, still roaming about the room. "Why isn't he even looking at me?"

"Could be guilt," Matthew guessed, "For not reaching you in time to stop Doyle from shooting you."

John blinked. "Or he thinks you're grotesque with that nasty scar."

"Whose brilliant idea was it to send me fifteen year old boys to help?" she sighed.

"Why do you even care if he's being aloof?" Matthew questioned. "Isn't he better off without you, too?"

The sound of the door caused Emily and Derek to turn. Angie slipped in to the room and waved as she walked over to join Derek. "I thought I'd convinced your father to drive you home," Morgan said as he stood and greeted the girl with a quick hug.

"Her you barely know, but she gets a hug?" Emily grew more perturbed by his behavior.

Angie smiled. "You did, and I'm going. I just…" her eyes settled on Emily again.

Derek rested a hand against the girl's back. "She's gonna be fine. Everything will be okay," he told her.

"Do you have kids?" Angie asked.

"What?" his brows bunched, briefly confused by the question. "No, why do you ask?"

She aimed a worried look at Emily's unconscious body. "Because that was very parental of you," Angie pointed out. "Parents always tell kids that everything is going to be fine, no matter what the situation is."

"Yeah, I suppose they do." Derek revealed a slight smile. He could tell there was something more on the girl's mind, though.

"You love her, don't you?"

He really hadn't been expecting that question. But as his gaze finally rested upon Emily for the first time since he'd entered the room, Morgan realized what an idiot he'd been for trying to avoid her. "Very much," he admitted to the girl.

"Have you ever told her that?" Angie asked.

His head shook. "Not exactly," Derek replied with regret.

"Me either," she quickly said, feeling better for having gotten that out of her system. It wasn't something she'd felt able to tell Reid or even her father. "Emily said it when we were in that warehouse. I never thought she'd be the first of the two of us to say it. And then… I don't know… I got distracted by everything else and I never said it back to her," the girl lamented. "Instead I had her make some silly promise."

"Hey," Morgan squeezed her shoulder. "You'll say it to her when she wakes up."

"Right," Angie grinned. "Because everything's going to be okay," she regurgitated.

"You catch on quick, kid," the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. "Now, let your dad drive you home. Get some rest."

"Okay," she nodded, leaned in and kissed his cheek then rushed out the door.

Derek took a deep breath and sat down again. This time his eyes settled on Emily. "You know she tried to neuter me when we first met," he chuckled, much more at ease. "She's a pretty amazing kid."

"Without any help from me," Emily replied, glad to see him in better spirits. She just wished it could have been her to put him in that mood.

He unzipped the duffle and pulled out his old purple and white Northwestern shirt. Derek carefully pulled her blankets down a little and laid the t-shirt over her hospital gown. Then he settled the blankets against her waist again. "I know you like to sleep in this."

"That's sweet," she smiled.

His hand hovered above her injured forehead. "Do you have any idea how lucky you are that Doyle's bullet didn't kill you?" Morgan asked her lifeless form. "Reid keeps extrapolating about gun angles and velocity. Personally, I just like to think you're too damn hard-headed for any bullet to get through." He actually laughed softly. "Garcia thinks you should have the missing part of your eyebrow tattooed on, but I'm still holding out that it will grow back once everything heals."

Morgan watched her for a moment. "The swelling is what has your doctor worried. Bullet impact is still pretty powerful even if it doesn't penetrate bone or muscle. Think about a bullet proof vest getting hit. That certainly knocks the wind out of a person," he grinned. "Okay, now I sound like Reid."

Emily shrugged. "There are worse people to sound like."

"How about a change of topic," he suggested. "Resi really misses you…"

"Right, I'm sure it's the cat that misses me," she was amazed by how stubborn he could be. "I'm lying on my death bed here, but you can't even admit that you're the one missing me right now?" Emily smiled again, despite her frustration. "And you claim I'm hard-headed."

"Then there's the matter of Declan," Morgan sighed. "Poor kid is having a really difficult time of it right now. Not that I can blame him." The room fell silent again for a while. "I was actually thinking maybe you and I could, I don't know… maybe we could take him in?" he suggested with a great deal of apprehension. Derek watched her chest rise and fall, but still there was no sign of her waking. "I thought sure that'd get you to wake up, even if only to argue."

He sat back a little. "I would, I think. Help you raise him." Derek shook his head. "Okay, the truth is… I'd promise you almost anything right now if you'd just wake up." Again he waited, hoping for her to sit up and debate all the reasons why the two of them raising a kid together was a bad idea. "Actually that's not the whole truth. I've been avoiding you. But that sounds pretty pathetic, huh, me avoiding you while you're unconscious?"

"Very," she agreed.

Morgan took her hand and kissed her palm. "I'm just… I'm scared, Emily."

"Scared?" That was about the last thing she'd expected from him.

"When I first met you years ago I never thought you'd give me the time of day outside of work. And then when we first started to sleep together I figured it was just a matter of letting off steam. You know… the stress of the job and the fact that we knew each other and were comfortable with one another. And don't get me wrong, sex with you is pretty damn amazing. Especially that thing you do with your tongue and the back of my…"

She shot a glare at Matthew and John who were still standing in the room. "This is kind of personal, don't you think?"

They each shrugged, clearly not leaving yet. "Seems you've learned some things since we were together," John arched his brows.

"I was a kid then," she replied.

Derek played with the sleeve hem of his Northwestern shirt. "It grew to be more than sex, though. Just reading a book in your bed became a luxury for me. And waking up with you beside me, making you breakfast. I never thought I'd want those things with anyone. And I'm afraid if you don't come back from this that I'll never find those simple pleasures in life again, not with anyone else. I'm also afraid that if you do wake up you'll kick me to the curb for good this time."

"I guess I can see how you'd think that," she whispered. "Since that's all I've ever shown you I know how to do."

"Damn it, Emily," he slapped the metal arms of his chair. "I don't want to keep harping on you about every little thing, or spend what time we have left sobering you up after a bender. I want to spend my time telling you how incredibly beautiful you are, inside and out. I want to chase down UnSubs with you, and gang up on Reid together." He carefully let a finger touch the tender flesh of her forehead. "I want to caress that spot behind your knees where I know you're dreadfully ticklish," he grinned. "Or read Vonnegut to you… stark naked."

Emily licked her lips. "Is it possible for a ghost to be completely turned on?"

"You're not a ghost," Matthew stated.

Her eyes rolled. "Then what?" she snapped. "I want to wake up, okay. I'm ready," Emily waved a hand at Derek. "Look at him, he's pathetic without me. And Angie seems to like me for some strange reason. Reid, well… come on, he needs a lot of guidance still. My mother actually wants to tell me to my face that she made some mistakes raising me, that's not to be missed. And I…" she sighed, looking from one friend to the other. "I still have a lot of growing up to do."

John shrugged. "Sounds like she's got it figured out."

"Then why are you still here?" Emily asked.

"Maybe…" Matthew stepped toward her. "So I can tell you it was never your fault. I started doubting the church's theology long before you came in to my life, Emily."

"And I started drinking at age twelve, years before we met," John added. "I only dared you that night because I..."

"No," she stopped him. "I don't care. It doesn't matter anymore. None of that matters. I don't blame you, or even my mother. I can't even blame my dad's drinking and depression, or genetics," Emily trailed off, realizing exactly what she was saying. "I'm in charge of my life. I'm the one to blame, but…"

Both young men smiled in anticipation. "But?" they each prompted her.

She nodded in understanding. "I forgive myself. And now it's time to move on."

As the words escaped, her friends disappeared. No puff of smoke or bright light. They were just gone. Emily had mixed emotions about their departure, but she focused on Derek again. "I guess that's it. I forgive myself." She shrugged. "How very after school special," Emily quipped. But she realized her body and spirit were still separated. "Okay," she glanced at the floor. "No ruby slippers," Emily looked around the room again. "The scarecrow and tin man are still gone. So, why haven't I woken up yet?"

The previous slow, steady beep of her heart on the monitor came to a sudden stop.

"Emily?" Morgan jumped to his feet.

Her head shook. "Hey, guys…" she looked around for Matthew and John. "When I said it was time to move on this isn't what I had in mind."

Derek watched helplessly, holding tightly to her hand as a nurse brought over a defibrillator. "Not like this," he begged. "Why would you hold on for two days just to leave us all in the end?" he grew angry. "Fight this, Emily. Fight for Angie and Declan." The heart monitor sounded a continuous beep; a flat line. "Fight, damn it," he growled. "Fight for me."

Even in spirit form she felt like her heart was breaking. "This is not the way fairytales are supposed to end," Emily whispered.

To be continued…