`Title: Broken Faith
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Characters/Pairing: Morgan, Prentiss, team - gen
Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Friendship
Summary: "Put more trust in nobility of character than in an oath." ~ Solon.
Warnings: Spoilers for 6x18.

…

Part Two

Trust not him that has once broken faith.

William Shakespeare – Henry VI

…

Morgan put a call through for half a dozen pizzas not long after they stepped through the front door. 'Man,' Emily said, with a moan. 'I haven't had a good pizza in so long.'

'So what happened?' Morgan asked, trying to ignore the warning look from JJ. He wasn't exactly very happy with JJ right now. 'You just got up and flew away?'

Emily gave a slight grimace. 'Not quite,' she told him. 'I was in hospital for almost six weeks.'

'Six weeks?' he asked, incredulous. The wound had been bad, he knew, but that bad.

'Doyle wasn't exactly going to give me a merciful death, Derek. I had a pretty bad concussion, and a couple of broken bones before he even got near that table leg. They stabilized me…shipped me off to a more "classified" location, and once I had recovered enough for them to wash their hands of me, they put me on a plane.' There was a slight bitterness to her voice – spending six weeks alone in hospital didn't sound like a very appealing conclusion to the saga.

JJ had a slightly guilty look on her face. 'We figured that if Doyle was watching, there was no conceivable reason for Hotch and I to be visiting a hospital every couple of days.'

Emily waved her hand. 'I know, I get it.' She sighed. 'Can I use your shower?'

'Sure,' Morgan nodded. 'Upstairs, end of the hall. I'll go find you a clean towel.'

'Thanks.'

He didn't have an overabundance of towels like some people, but the ones he did have were sitting in a basket in the laundry – he'd been meaning to fold them for several weeks now.

'Come in,' Emily called out, when he knocked on the door. She was standing in front of the mirror in her bra and jeans. He'd noticed it earlier, but now it was so much more apparent – she had lost a lot of weight.

'Looks like you need that pizza,' he joked. Emily turned around, and Morgan stopped. He wasn't sure what he caught sight of first – the massive, ugly scar across her abdomen, or the four-leaf clover that was burnt into her breast.

'Apparently faking your own death is kind of stressful,' she said, head down to avoid his gaze. 'The clover was Doyle. The scar…well, apparently my fake death was pretty close to not being fake.' There was a long pause. 'Would you mind…?'

'Sure,' he said, nodding. 'I'll be downstairs.'

'How is she?' Rossi asked, as Morgan settled himself on the couch, taking Clooney's enthusiastic pawing in stride.

'Stressed, upset…I dunno. How would you be?' Morgan looked around the room; he'd been so focused on Emily, that he hadn't taken the time to observe the reactions of the rest of the team. Reid was staring at his fingernails, trying to avoid the topic of conversation that would no doubt be omnipresent for the next few weeks. It had taken the younger man a long time to get over Emily's death – to discover that she was still alive was a hell of a shock to his system.

Hotch's expression was, as usual, stoic. Today, though, the lines seemed more creased, the brow more furrowed. He had known.

For six months, he had know that Emily was alive, and he hadn't told them.

Morgan had watched Garcia break down, almost every day for the first week. It had taken Morgan, a shitload of Godiva, half a bottle of Peach Schnapps, and three different romantic comedies to cheer her up. Even then, it had ended with both of them in tears, reminiscing about the things Emily had said, or done. He might have had his suspicions about whether or not she had really died, but he still needed to mourn.

Hotch knew all along, and he hadn't said a damn thing. Morgan had always respected the Unit Chief, but right now, he felt some kind of fury at the other man. Not just for his sake, or for Garcia's, but for Emily's, too.

Everything that had happened since that day, she had been through alone. If not for that fact, the deceit might have been easier to reconcile.

Rossi was oddly relaxed about the situation, as if discovering that a colleague returning from the dead was something that he was used to. By contrast, Seaver was shell-shocked. They didn't teach everything in the academy; especially not something like this.

There was a sudden knock on the door, and Clooney started barking. Morgan stood, pulling his wallet out, as Hotch and Rossi both did the same.

'I got this,' Morgan told them. Rossi came to the door anyway, to help him bring the pizzas inside.

As if drawn by the smell of food, Emily came back downstairs just a few seconds later, hair washed, and looking a lot more relaxed than she had been when she'd first stepped off the plane.

Nobody talked until they'd all eaten at least one slice of pizza. Emily was on her third (had she been eating at all the last six months?) when she finally asked, 'So what else have I missed?'

'To be honest, not that much,' Rossi admitted. 'There was a lot of crying, the first month.

'Especially from me,' Garcia interjected. 'And before you see your gravestone, I should probably tell you that it's pretty much a shrine.'

'Okay,' Emily nodded, which really, was the only reaction she could have given to the revelation. Soon, though, it became clear that even after being away from the team for so long, Emily mostly wanted to be left alone. For a moment, it looked as though Garcia was going to try and stay anyway, but she was ushered out by JJ.

'Everything okay?' Morgan asked, when the door clicked shut for the last time.

Emily nodded then shook her head. 'Yes. No. I don't know. I guess I just feel like…Like my absence would have made a bigger impact.'

Morgan sat down beside her, and put an arm around her shoulder. 'Trust me princess; your absence had a huge impact. Garcia spent the entire time trying to track Doyle down. Reid didn't go a single day without looking at your desk. Seaver…well, let's just say Rossi isn't as forgiving a mentor as you were.'

Emily gave a sad chuckle. 'Heh. Thanks. I think.'

'You were a part of the team for so long, and then suddenly there was this hole that nobody could fill. We could have brought in another agent, but nobody could have been the sexy kickass nerd that you are, Emily Prentiss.'

Emily raised an eyebrow. 'Sexy?'

'You know it's true.'

She laughed again – this time with so much more warmth. 'It's been a long time since anyone has called me sexy.'

'Why did you do it, Emily?' he whispered softly. 'Why did you run away?'

'I didn't have a choice,' she told him. 'By the time I was lucid enough to realize what was going on, I'd already been declared dead.'

'That's not what I meant.'

What he meant was, Why did you take the fight to Doyle, knowing that we would have done anything to help you? What he meant was, Why didn't you tell us about him in the first place?

'I know,' she said. 'And maybe one day I'll be able to give an answer that satisfies you, but I think we both know that whatever I say now isn't going to be enough.'

Morgan couldn't disagree with that – in his mind, no answer would ever be enough.

'I think I might take a nap,' Emily announced, the tone of her voice suggesting that it was not sleep on her agenda, but rather avoiding the conversation. He needed to push, but at the same time, he knew he couldn't push too hard. No matter how much of a façade of strength she put up, the events of the last six months had no doubt pushed that strength to its limits.

Derek Morgan was not going to be the one that broke her.