A/N: Ok so this chapter holds the three middle stages of grief. And may I just say that, even in a fictional world, Emily's anger phase does wonders for the economy. And I realize this is a little bit late to mention but I've had this guy's picture in my head and he is what I imagine "Peter" to look like. His name is Burgess Jenkins. I saw him in "Remember the Titans" the other night when my boyfriend made me watch it. So kudos to Mat for the choice of pic.

Please R&R.

DISCLAIMER: As ever I do not own Criminal Minds.

*BEEP BEEP - - - BEEP BEEP*

Emily opened her eyes gradually. She reached over to hit the alarm on Peter's bedside table and lay back on the bed. As she stared at the ceiling she thought about the night before. Had it really happened. She sat up in bed and looked over at their wardrobe. Still half empty. This was really happening. Peter had gone. Emily's marriage was over. Her brow furrowed as she thought about the letter. "That damn letter. That asshole. He didn't even have the gut to sit down with me and tell me. He wrote it in a letter. And he didn't even write it. He typed it." Emily shook her head when she realized she had been talking to herself. She got up from the bed and looked around. She looked down at the bed and realized they were the blue sheets and the mint green doona cover that Peter had picked out. Nothing frilly or pink, he'd said. Emily rolled her eyes and pulled the linen off the bed. She rolled it up into a ball and threw it on the ground. As she walked down to the linen closet and opened it, she realized that all the sheets were blue or green or white. Emily pulled them all out and threw them on the ground, along with the blue towel sets that were Peter's. She looked back at the closet. "Well, if I'm going to throw out all my sheets, I'm gonna need some new ones," she said to herself. She walked back into their room and looked at their bed. She shook her head. I need to go shopping, she thought to herself. She picked up the pillows from the bed, threw them in the pile with the bed linen, and carried it all downstairs. She packed it away in garbage bags to take to Good Will on her way to the mall.

She looked around the living room and saw photos everywhere of Peter. Peter and Emily on their wedding day. Peter and Emma on the swings at the park. Peter and Emma, asleep on his surfboard. Peter and Emily at Christmas at her parent's house. Emily shook her head and picked up another garbage bag. She went through all of the photo frames, pulling out the photos with Peter in them. She threw them in the bag. Then she went to the fridge and pulled out all of Peter's favourite foods, then did the same with the pantry. She opened the cabinet and pulled out the mug she'd bought him for Father's Day, throwing it in the bag as she huffed. As she went through the house she threw away anything that reminded her of Peter. When she was finished, she'd filled three garbage bags to go to charity, and two to go in the trash. She was going to throw away their framed marriage certificate but something stopped her. She grabbed her keys and satchel, and carried the bags downstairs. She threw away the trash and put the charity bags in the jeep.

She'd spent about $4800 in about three hours, buying new linen and towels, a new bedroom set and mattress, stocked up on groceries, and printed off some new photos. When she got back home she put the new sheets in the wash before she went to her room to pull apart her furniture. She carried it down to her car, piece by piece, and went upstairs to put together her new bedroom set. The mattress guys arrived just in time. They offered to get rid of the old mattress and Emily quickly accepted the offer. They carried her new mattress upstairs, put it on the bed, then took away the old one. Emily quickly made the bed with some linen from the spare bedroom, and put on her new doona. She threw her new pillows on the bed and nodded.

She looked at her watch and smiled. It was time to pick up Emma. She had successfully distracted herself for an entire day. Granted, shopping while emotional is a very expensive way to distract oneself, but she had to admit, with the Peter-object culling, she was starting to feel a little better. She had new furniture, new linen, and new photos, none of which reminded her of Peter. She walked downstairs, grabbed her bag and cell, and left to pick up Emma. On the way she stopped in at Good Will for the second time that day, and dropped off the bedroom set.

Emily hugged Emma tight. She had fallen asleep in the car on the way home. Emily carefully lifted her out of her car seat and carried her upstairs. She went straight to bed. Emily sat in the rocking chair, watching her daughter sleep. She looked at her innocent little girl and began to well up. She would do anything to save her daughter from the pain she was likely to undergo. Emma loved her daddy. She would miss him. And Emily wanted so badly for Emma to have the normal childhood Emily had missed out on. Emily closed her eyes and, for the first time in years, honestly prayed. "God, please. I'm not asking for myself. I would give anything for my sweet daughter to not know of pain. I don't want her to grow up thinking her daddy doesn't love her or want her. I will give you anything if you can spare her from that. Please," Emily begged silently. She opened her eyes. She didn't know what she was expecting. Maybe she had hoped that Peter would suddenly appear in the doorway. When he didn't, Emily stood up from her seat, kissed Emma's chubby cheek, and closed the door gently.

Emily walked downstairs and into the kitchen. She pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge and cracked the seal. As she took a sip, she looked over at the lounge and realized she had left the note and glass of gin on the coffee table near the window seats. She frowned and walked over. She sat down and stared at the note, secretly (and much to her inner-nerd's content) wishing that the note would vaporize. When it didn't she looked out the window and sighed. How could such a beautiful night hold such pain? Suddenly, with practically no warning, her eyes welled up with tears and the grief took over and she felt her chest heave as she sobbed. It was over. Her marriage was over. She was a failure. She'd never truly failed at anything before. But here she was, sitting in her beautiful home, with her beautiful daughter upstairs sleeping, and she was alone. A failure. Emily lay down on the seat and continued to cry. Eventually she fell asleep.