A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing the last chapter and I hope you enjoy this one.

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She slammed the closet door, stuffing the armful of clothing into her go-bag and hissing as the energetic movements aggravated her wounded shoulder. Anger clouded her every thought and action and all she wanted to do was scream.

"Emily, we need to talk about this," he sighed, trying to be reasonable as he followed after her and came to stand in the doorway.

"You already made your opinion perfectly clear," she spat, throwing the bag onto the bed as she replayed the earlier stages of their fight in her head.

"How do you expect me to trust you if you keep lying?" The question erupted from his mouth the moment the door of the SUV slammed shut. They'd left the hospital to continue their conversation without an audience.

"I don't want to lie to you; I want to explain!" she insisted, knowing that her words were falling on deaf ears.

"You can't help yourself!" he responded, pointedly slamming the palm of his hand against the top of the steering wheel.

"What do you want to know?"

"You can fake your own death, you can screw a terrorist, but you can't give me a straight answer - what is wrong with you?"

An eerie silence came over the car as his question hung in the air.

"I can screw a terrorist?" she questioned, her expression stony as she spoke in a dangerously low voice.

"That's all you heard?" he responded, mirroring her expression.

When she offered no defence he held up his hands and shook his head.

"I can't do this."

Trying to forget the uncomfortable drive to their apartment, she opened the safe, retrieving her passport and back-up weapon. Derek's regret and apprehension stirred as he realised she wasn't messing about with her threats to leave.

"I lost my temper, Em," he said apologetically. "I didn't mean it."

"You didn't mean what?" she asked, the venom slipping slightly from her voice as her eyes watered in her losing battle not to cry.

His eyes couldn't leave hers as she fought an internal battle with her physical and emotional pain, and her head-strong stubbornness. It took everything he had not to pull her into his arms and promise that he hadn't meant a word of what he'd said, and that he'd never say any of it again. But he knew that was a lie, and that it wasn't going to do them any good in the long term.

"I'm not giving up on you," he answered gently. "I just got frustrated."

She nodded slowly, glancing at the sloppily packed bag on the bed and the gun and passport she still clasped in her hand. Where did she go from here? She wasn't the kind of person to throw a tantrum when she wasn't getting her way in am argument; she'd had every intention of taking off for a hotel or JJ's couch and even now, it was still a possibility. It seemed childish to have reacted in that manner and then back down at the hint of an apology.

"Maybe put the gun down if were gonna talk? I'm all for getting even but..." he trailed off with a shrug and a wavering grin, hoping his attempt at lightening the situation wouldn't seem too inappropriate.

To his relief she made a small snorting sound as a smile momentarily flickered across her lips. The tension now broken, she placed the contents of her hands on top of her go-bag. While she was willing to have another shot at talking like adults, she wasn't ready to commit to staying for the night. Not yet at least.

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Ten minutes later, the couple found themselves hovering around the kitchen, and one another, in an uneasy silence. Emily leaned against the worktop, clutching a hot mug between her hands. Derek sat at the table doing the same. Both were caught up in thoughts of the turn of events which had brought them here. Just days before they'd been flirting and playfully arguing over who would pick up the Chinese take-out.

"What happened with internal affairs?" she asked, her tone all but drained of any emotion.

"The usual," he replied, and they shared the trace of a knowing smile. "They weren't satisfied with my explanation so they decided to suspend me while they try to figure out what happened." He tried to sound flippant but it was obvious he was upset by the decision.

"Hotch is in your corner - it'll be okay," she assured him, though her words sounded more hollow than intended.

"Emily," he began cautiously, his brow furrowing as he carefully planned out his next words. "I don't want to make a thing of it but..."

"Where was I this afternoon?" she completed.

He nodded, watching her intently as she played with the string from the teabag in her mug and avoided his gaze.

"Someone came to me for help," she responded. "And I offered to help them."

She didn't dare look up for fear of seeing his disappointment at such a vague explanation, but she heard him exhale a long breath as he prevented his frustration revealing itself again.

"I know you say you're already involved, but I don't want your involvement to go any deeper," she hurriedly explained. "I know what Doyle was willing to do to the families of his enemies, and I don't doubt for a second that his men would do the same. I can't lose you."

She lifted her head at those last few words and he saw that, once again, her eyes were brimming with tears.

"And you think I could handle losing you?" he choked.

"I can look after myself," she insisted, her expression imploring him to trust her on this one thing.

"Damn it Emily, you're not invincible!" he muttered, his words somehow having a greater impact than anything he had yelled before.

He only had to think of that day, and he could see her blood coating his hands and feel her grip loosening as he begged her to stay with him. In their line of work he had accepted that he had to live with some fear that they'd be in that position again some day. But her past, and anything to do with Ian Doyle, brought a level of danger he simply couldn't live with.

"I know that," she sighed, pausing for a moment as readied herself to continue. "If I tell you what I know - if I bring you in on this - then I need to know that you're on my side. No matter what."

"Do you really have to ask?" he responded immediately.

"Even if it gets you in more trouble with the bureau?" she asked, knowing that in protecting the baby she'd probably end up breaking a few rules.

"What have you got yourself into?" he pressed, looking concerned as she ran her teeth over her lip and let out a sigh.

"It's nothing bad," she insisted. "I made a promise to someone, and I intend to keep it. No matter what."

He got to his feet, crossed the room and took the mug from her hands, setting it on the counter so that he could hold her warm hand in his own. To his relief, she allowed him to intertwine their fingers rather than pulling away.

"I trust you," he told her sincerely. "Whatever you promised, I'll help you keep it."

Though still hesitant, she knew she'd given him enough chances to back out. And the fact he was still standing there, running his thumb lightly over the side of her hand, after everything that had happened and everything that had been said, made her certain that she was better off with him than alone. Without giving herself any opportunity to develop doubt, she informed him of her plan.

"Have you ever thought about becoming a foster carer?" she asked, anxiously awaiting his reaction.

Derek's face contorted into an expression of shock, which would have been comical if not for the situation, and he almost dropped hold of her hand. Of all the scenarios he could have imagined, he was not expecting that.