A/N: Thank you for reading and reviewing. I hope you enjoy the chapter. It's been split in two because I felt more than this was too long, so I hope to have the other half up soon. Let me know what you think.

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Derek clattered into the house with the same grace he had exhibited when he was a teenager. As she heard the sound of him approaching, Fran was reminded that there was a reason her son had been caught any time he'd tried to sneak in or out of the house after curfew.

"Mama, your baby boy is..." he called, stopping mid-sentence as she emerged into the hallway, shaking her head and pressing a finger to her lips.

"What's wrong?" he frowned, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"Emily's sleeping," she explained, causing the crease in his brow to deepen.

"Still?" he questioned. He'd been away for over an hour and had expected her to get up in that time.

"She woke up for a little while," Fran assured him. "But her painkillers seemed to knock her out."

Derek relaxed slightly as he was reassured that her drowsiness was at least partially the result of medication, but his concerned expression lingered. As much as she would have hated it, he would have been a lot more at ease if Emily's doctor had kept her under observation for a little longer.

"I'll get her upstairs," he said, with a quiet sigh. "She'll be more comfortable in a real bed."

Fran nodded in agreement. If it hadn't been for the intensity of Emily's headache, she'd have helped the younger woman upstairs before giving her the pills. It couldn't have been doing her much good to be sprawled across the old couch.

"I've made up the bed in your room," she informed him. "I assumed you were too old to keep up the pretence of sleeping separately."

They exchanged the faintest smile at the reminder of what had once been a strict rule when he or his sisters invited a partner to spend the night under Fran's roof. It was funny how things changed without any real conscious decision. One moment he'd been the college student returning for the holidays, and the next he was a grown man with a girlfriend his family were ready to accept as one of their own.

"Thanks, Mom," he told her. "I'm sorry I've brought all of this to you."

It wasn't that he thought his mother lived in some sort of naive bubble, where she was unaware of what his work and relationships could often entail. The circumstances which had left her widowed at so young an age meant she would never forget the harsh realities they faced, and Derek was well aware of that. His reluctance stemmed more from the fact that he preferred to share the happier times with his family and keep the rest to himself. They didn't need any more pain than their own lives contained, and over the years, he'd shown that he was quite capable of separating the two worlds.

Fran, however, took a very different approach to matters concerning her child.

"Don't you dare say that, Derek Morgan!" she responded defiantly, one hand coming to rest on her hip as her eyes threatened to bore holes straight through him. "I am your mother and this is your home. You are always welcome here, no matter what is going on. And so is Emily."

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, somehow offering protection, despite the fact he was more than strong enough to pick her up and carry her away. For once he didn't laugh and demonstrate that fact, but simply returned her tight hold, in a response which only made her more concerned.

"I'll be in the kitchen when you've got her settled," she continued, finally letting go. "We have some catching up to do."

He nodded, knowing that despite the warmth in her voice, the invitation wasn't optional. She was on a mission to get some answers, and he knew from experience that there was no stopping that.

/
/

Entering the living room, and directing his mind back to thoughts of his girlfriend's immediate welfare, Derek smiled at his mother's efforts to make Emily more comfortable. The curtains were drawn and the glow of a solitary lamp provided just enough light to see. Across her body, pulled right up to her neck, was the thick blanket which normally hung over the back of the couch. Extra pillows had also been produced from somewhere to support her head and neck.

It was testament to the depth of his girlfriend's sleep that only one arm had escaped to hang limply towards the floor. On the average night she was capable of dismantling half the bedroom as she dreamed and he'd often thought how lucky it was that he didn't bruise easily when he so frequently came into contact with her flailing limbs, but for now she was still.

Watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, he was reluctant to disturb her apparent peace. Whereas her lips had spent days pursed together or twisted into a worried frown, they now rested slightly apart, revealing no discernible expression. He took hold of her hand and brought her arm to rest by her side, almost jumping in surprise when her fingers wrapped around his.

"Emily," he murmured quietly, noticing that she was starting to stir.

"Hey," she smiled, though he wasn't entirely convinced that she was fully alert.

Derek's suspicions were confirmed when her grip weakened and her fingers slipped free from his.

"Emily," he repeated, a little louder.

Her fluttering eyelids let him know she was listening, even if she wasn't particularly responsive.

"Put your arms around my neck," he instructed, leaning forward to help her do so.

"Why?" she mumbled, but she still complied.

"Because I need to get you upstairs," he explained, sliding one arm beneath her knees and wrapping the other around her shoulder.

The throaty laugh which followed almost caused him to drop her straight back onto the sofa, as a chuckle escaped his mouth. Trust her drug-addled mind to go there at the most inopportune moment. Even he hadn't planned on cracking that particular joke.

"Behave," he grinned, kissing her forehead before he tried again to lift her into his arms.

"I can walk," she insisted, her eyelids remaining tight shut as she made no effort to release herself from his hold.

"Princess, you can't even open your eyes right now," he teased, good naturedly, untangling her from the blanket and tossing it back onto the couch. "And you know you love it when I sweep you off your feet!"

"Your lines suck," she informed him, allowing her head to fall against his shoulder. She might not have been looking at him, but she knew the cheeky grin which he'd be wearing far too well not to picture it with perfect accuracy.

"But you're still with me," he retaliated, making sure he had a secure hold on her as they left the room. For someone capable of tackling a fully grown man to the ground, she really didn't weigh much, but he still didn't want to risk dropping her. "Because you just can't get enough of Derek Morgan!"

She laughed lightly, as he started to climb the stairs and instinctively held her tighter against his chest, but then she fell quiet. He felt her demeanour change before she even opened her mouth.

"Is it going to get better?" she whispered as they came to the upstairs landing, turning serious and reminding him that the banter between them, for the moment at least, was only a passing phenomenon.

He didn't know what "it" was. He didn't know if she was referring to the inexplicable feeling of loss which had accompanied abandoning Lucy, or the stress their relationship had endured. It could have been her own battered body, or the case which was threatening to tear their family apart. Or it might have been the shadow of Doyle which they knew could cast darkness over them at any time. All he knew was that there was only one answer he could give to her latest expression of doubt. He wasn't used to her new-found need for reassurance.

"Of course it will," he promised, making his way towards his childhood bedroom. "Just give it some time."

/
/

JJ ran her fingers over the familiar material, thinking for the first time how thin it was considering the job it had to do. In her first days as a trainee agent, her vest had seemed unnecessarily restrictive and heavy, but now it was such an ordinary part of being out in the field, that she barely noticed the weight. A sickening feeling rose through her body as her fingertips reached the distorted lump of metal embedded an inch or so below the white lettering. The jagged form of the spent bullet could so easily have ricocheted off her ribs and torn through internal organs. The dark purple mark on her flesh indicated the point of impact but there was no telling which path it would have taken if it hadn't been trapped by the Kevlar.

"I'm sure the budget can stretch to a new one," Hotch stated, with a dry smile, announcing his presence in the locker room.

"Hotch, I just..." she trailed off, her eyes darting towards her boss and then back towards the object, which should probably have been in an evidence lock-up, rather than on her lap. "I just wanted to see it," she completed. "CSU were already finished."

"It's okay," he insisted, nodding in understanding. "I only came to ask if you want to go with Rossi to the warehouse."

She looked up with an expression of surprise. It had only been a few days since she'd been benched and she was expecting to spend much longer in the office with Garcia. Checking out their mystery caller's location certainly wasn't something she thought would be on the agenda.

"Reid can do it if you don't feel ready," he continued, making sure he wasn't creating any unnecessary pressure. Though he knew JJ well enough to make a good estimate of her reactions, he didn't want to take it for granted that she would want to get straight back in the field.

As she considered Hotch's suggestion, the blonde agent's touch lingered on the dull piece of metal. It was stupid that she was hesitating at all. It wasn't like she hadn't been shot at before, and the fact that the bullet had actually made contact this time didn't mean that there was now anything inherently more dangerous about her job.

"No, I'm ready to go," she insisted, stuffing the vest back into its plastic bag and getting to her feet.

"Are you sure?" Hotch frowned, sensing her moment of hesitation.

"I'm just a little shaken," she admitted, knowing better than to dismiss his concern entirely. "But I want to get back out there."

He didn't miss the slight grimace as she reached up to her locker and retrieved her gun and holster.

"Are your ribs okay?" he checked. If she wasn't physically able to handle field work then there was no question of her joining Rossi. And the realisation that he hadn't even asked her how she was since he left her in the ambulance made him feel an even worse friend than boss.

She nodded. The bruising wasn't as bad as it looked, which, while making it harder to convince Will she was fit for work, meant that the pain was manageable.

"I'm just a little sore. The ER doctor said there was no reason I couldn't work if I felt up to it," she assured him.

"And you do?"

She nodded again, looking more certain in her decision. This was what they did, and it was even more important than normal that they solved the case. It was wrong to have everyone tip-toeing around each other, and for Emily and Morgan to be so far away in every possible sense.

"I'm going to send Reid out as well," Hotch informed her as he studied her closely for any further signs of doubt or discomfort.

"It doesn't need all three of us," she insisted, already wishing she hadn't been so honest with him. "I'll be fine. We're already low on numbers."

"It's just for today," he assured her. For his own peace of mind he needed to know that, should JJ encounter any problems, she'd have someone to cover her.

JJ wanted to point out that, regardless of anything which had happened, she didn't need a babysitter, but Hotch's renewed sense of caution wasn't without foundation. None of them were unaffected by everything which had happened.

"I'll grab a new vest and then join the others," she told him, making her way towards the door, with no further argument.

/
/

Rossi watched the two youngest members of the team with a frown, as they prepared to storm the dilapidated warehouse which stood a few hundred feet away. JJ was pulling at the straps of her brand new vest, struggling to find the balance between secure and uncomfortable. Under any other circumstances she'd have been sent home to be fussed over for a week, but with the attack on Emily, and Hotch's ongoing battle with his superiors, thoughts of her shooting had more or less been pushed aside.

"Are you okay?" he asked, giving her a look designed to remind her that she could return to the SUV if she needed to.

"I'm fine," she replied, standing up straighter and leaving the straps alone.

The older agent was far from convinced but let it slide.

"How about you, kid?" he asked, turning to Reid, who was staring distractedly at the ground.

It took a split second for Spencer to react and respond.

"Fine. Just thinking."

"What are you thinking about?" Rossi continued, prying deeper. While the cause of JJ's behaviour was clear, he had no idea what was going through Reid's complicated mind.

"It feels strange not to have Morgan or Emily working with us," he answered, rather reluctantly and while avoiding eye contact with either of his colleagues.

"They'll be back, Spence," JJ assured him, diverting her attention from her injury and placing a hand on his arm.

"She's right," Rossi agreed. The team had made it through worse and if he was confident of one thing, it was that they'd pull through this case as well. "Are we ready to go?" he added, glancing towards the heavily armed SWAT team, awaiting instructions.

Both Reid and JJ nodded, allowing Rossi to take charge in the absence of their unit chief. The best way to make everything right again was to do their job, and that required their full attention.

/
/

The kitchen was already filled with the scent of cooking when Derek returned downstairs. His mother was sautéing vegetables in a frying pan on the stove, and he could see there was already a pot of chicken stock bubbling away.

"I know Emily's not exactly sick, but it worked for more than the flu with you and your sisters," she reasoned, as she sensed her son hovering nearby. "She's not a vegetarian, is she?" she added, suddenly finding the one potential flaw in her chicken soup plan.

Derek smiled, as he pilfered one of the bread rolls from the bowl on the kitchen table.

"No, she's not," he replied, laughing to himself at the thought.

"Good," Fran smiled in response, though the curl of her lips only lasted a second.

Her son didn't miss the worried look or watering eyes that she tried to hide from him. As she tasted the stock, and added more seasoning, he came closer, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Mom, what's wrong?" he frowned.

She bit her lip, pausing as she contemplated the question which had been circling her mind for the greater part of the afternoon.

"Derek, did you and Emily lose a baby?" she asked, surprising him with her directness.

His startled expression proved hard for her to read and she instantly backtracked, wondering if she'd pushed too hard. Other than the occasional teasing about wanting several grandchildren, the subject of parenthood hadn't ever been broached with her son, and that wasn't the way either of them had imagined the conversation would come about.

"I didn't mean to pry," she gushed. "I just saw the pacifier that fell out of her purse, and she looked so distressed."

Since witnessing Emily's odd reaction her mind had been in overdrive, playing out possible scenarios, and she'd finally settled on the worst option. She really hoped she was wrong.

"Emily wasn't pregnant," Derek quickly reassured her, seeing that she was becoming upset. "It's nothing like that."

He took hold of her hands, looking her directly in the eye to let her know he was telling the truth.

"You don't have to worry about us," he insisted, his guilt at spreading his problems returning, as a few tears escaped her eyes. He'd never been able to stand seeing his mother cry.

"I just thought…" she trailed off, unsure if the tears were caused by relief or further concern.

"We were looking after a baby," he explained. "As part of the case we've been working."

"Were?" Fran questioned, regaining her composure and her eye for detail. He was still skirting around the edges of the truth. "For work?"

"It's complicated," he muttered, trying to palm her off, but knowing it would do no good.

"You don't need to protect me," she insisted. "I just want to help."

As she turned her attention back to the stove, preventing herself from getting upset again, a sigh escaped his body. Conversations about international criminals and murdered prostitutes didn't belong amongst the aroma of his mother's home cooking.

"It's a long story," he tried, giving up before she even opened her mouth to reply.

"Then it's a good thing I don't have anywhere to be."

/
/

The building was silent as Rossi gave the nod for the leader of the SWAT team to order his team into action. JJ felt her heart rate increase as the first wave of officers rushed the building. Before following suit, her eyes glanced back towards Reid, whose presence gave her the reassurance she needed. Just like Hotch had intended, he had her back.

The shouts of "clear" quickly echoed around the empty space, as every corner was scanned for signs of movement. By the time the three agents reached the small upstairs office, it was evident that the place had been abandoned.

"It's only been an hour and surveillance was set up almost as soon as we got a location," JJ remarked. "He didn't seem stable enough to have planned a getaway."

Assuming the office had once been occupied by the caller, the mess of take-out containers, drinks cans and cigarette butts strewn across the desk and floor supported their theory that they were looking for someone who was becoming more disorganised.

"It's possible someone he's working with found out about the phone call," Reid thought aloud. "It wouldn't have taken long to slip out if someone less erratic was in control."

"But how would they have convinced him to leave?" Rossi questioned. The caller had been so focussed on finding Emily that he'd gone out of his way to contact them. Why would he now disappear and risk losing progress in the search?

"Maybe he's still thinking logically enough to want to avoid getting caught," JJ suggested.

"Or maybe it wasn't his decision," Reid countered, his focus narrowing in on the broken chair which lay in front of the desk. It was hard to tell, with the general state of the room, but there could have been signs of a struggle.

"Agents?" a police officer called, joining them as they considered Spencer's idea.

"Have you found something?" Rossi asked.

"We could have," the officer replied. "There are spent bullets and casings all over the place downstairs. Looks like someone's been doing some target practice. We might be able to get a match with one of the guns fired at the safe house or the park."

At the news, Rossi, Reid and JJ exchanged optimistic glances. The more physical evidence to support their developing profile, the better. And between the bullets and the assortment of DNA and fingerprint coated items in the office, they might just get lucky.