AN: Final chapter. Thank you for your reviews. There will be more Emily and Catherine interaction in my next story, Post Minimal Loss.

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.

There is nothing I would not do for those who

are really my friends. I have no notion of

loving people by halves, it is not my nature.

- Jane Austen

November 25, 2006

I am having a really nice dream; it's summer and I'm lying in a field, watching the clouds roll by. I know it is a dream because there is no other explanation for why the sky is purple. Someone is lying next to me and humming a tune that I don't know. I roll over to look at them and I wake up when Catherine gets up from the couch. She has one hand covering her eyes and the other extended in front of her. I want to laugh but I notice the grimace on her face and the way she winces every time a bird chirps outside. Headache? I wonder. No. Not a headache. A migraine. I can hear her counting her steps under her breath. I take a moment to observe Catherine it is interesting to watch how she can move around the furniture with her eyes closed. It wouldn't surprise me if she has the entire apartment mapped out like this. I bet she knows the exact amount of steps to get from her bed to JJ's or from the shower to the fridge.

I follow Catherine down the hallway to the bathroom, turning off lights as I go. I scan the room before my eyes settle on Catherine who is standing at the sink. Her hair looks a little windswept, it has gotten loose from the braid she had it in before, and she is wearing a pair of blood red and black polarized sunglasses. I take a moment to appreciate the awesome sunglasses before I pay attention to what she is doing; she has just swallowed some pills from the cabinet. I hope they're for her migraine. Damn it, where is JJ. I don't know what to do. Catherine isn't my little sister or daughter; I shouldn't be here with her. She doesn't know me and she doesn't trust me, how in the world am I going to make this work?

When Catherine leans over the toilet and throws up, I have to steel my stomach so that I don't copy her actions. I am undecided as to how I should proceed. Should I go over and hold back her hair or should I stay as far away as possible. I know that she can sense my presence behind her because she freezes and her body language is screaming discomfort. Catherine's hyper-vigilance must be working overtime to function with a migraine. My maternal instincts win out; I half shut the bathroom door, trying to keep as much light away from Catherine as possible. I grab a washcloth from the shelf by the door and go over to the sink, turn on the cold water and wet the washcloth just enough to make it damp. I turn off the tap the instant I notice Catherine covering her ears. I guess the sound of the water hurts her head.

I walk over to Catherine, trying to be as quiet as possible. I know she is uncomfortable with my propinquity because she tenses again. I know that we don't know each other but it still hurts that Catherine thinks I would harm her. I sit down next to her, "Ça va?" I whisper and then wince internally at my question. I know she's not alright. Why did I ask that? I place the cold washcloth on the back of Catherine's neck, my fingers just barely touch her hairline and she starts shivering and stops breathing. I'm pretty sure that I am to blame.

We spend quite a while sitting on the floor in silence, I'm hoping that her medication kicks in and then I can send her to bed and call JJ. When Catherine's head starts drooping, I break the silence, "Okay Catherine, we need to get you back to your room. Do you think you can stand?"

Catherine shakes her head and covers her mouth with her hand.

I hope she is not going to throw up again. I rise up from the floor, my decision made; I need to get her to bed. "Alright then, I'm going to pick you up."

I can see her eyes snap open behind the lenses of her sunglasses; her "No!" is hoarse and panicked.

It causes pain in my chest. I'm scaring her. I don't want to scare her. I sigh quietly, "Catherine, we really need to get you to bed." I touch her shoulder; she flinches and yelps quietly, tears running down her face.

I take a deep breath and steel myself, I put my arm under one of her arms and around her shoulders, "You'll be so much more comfortable in bed." I start to lift her, "You don't want to stay here in this cold bathroom do you?"
Catherine sobs, "No, Emmy wait. No. Please, wait. Please don't touch me."

It breaks my heart. I set her back down on the floor and step away, giving Catherine the distance required for her to calm down. Where is JJ? Shouldn't she be back from the store by now?

It takes a while but Catherine's breathing does eventually even out. She's blushing from embarrassment. "Brush teeth." She mumbles, not looking at me and struggling to stand up, she doesn't make it farther than the edge of the tub.

I want to look away and give Catherine the privacy she so obviously desires but caution prevents me from following my feelings. Obviously she cannot stand on her own. What if she fell over and hit her head? "Catherine I'm going to wrap one arm around your waist so that I can hold you up okay?" I say in a low voice. It's not really a question but she needs to think she has the option of saying no. I imagine that JJ would be rather upset with me if I let her little sister fall over or if I left her in the bathroom by herself. I cannot reconcile the idea of leaving an obviously pained Catherine alone with my conscience.
Catherine's "Okay" is so quiet that I have to strain my ears to hear it.

I wrap one arm around Catherine's waist and lift her into a standing position. She takes one step forward and starts to crumple as her legs give out.
"Maybe brushing your teeth isn't such a good idea." I say gently.
"Brush teeth." She insists quietly.
I bite my lip, "What about gargling? Do you have mouth wash?"
Catherine's mouth starts moving but the only thing that comes out is: "Cabinet."

I think she's trying to tell me that the mouthwash is in the medicine cabinet, "The one above the sink?" I ask.

I try to let Catherine stand on her own when she makes a noise of protest at being dragged across the room. It doesn't work very well, her legs give out again. I know that I probably shouldn't but I lean her unresisting body against me while I look through the medicine cabinet for the mouthwash. I know that she must be uncomfortable but when she doesn't protest more than a quiet sigh I continue with my search. I wonder if she is simply too exhausted or too far into her migraine that she cannot protest.

I hand Catherine the bottle of mouthwash but when it is obvious that she cannot open it I take it back. Then grab a glass from the counter, open the bottle and pour some into the glass. I frown when I notice that Catherine cant hold onto the glass properly either so I help her by holding the glass to her mouth.

When Catherine taps my arm twice, I instinctively know that she is finished gargling. This means that I need to get her to bed. Is this what if feels like to be a mother or a big sister? To know what someone needs without them having to verbally ask.

I take deep breath and brace myself for crying or possibly a panic attack, "Okay Catherine, let's try this again." I turn her unresisting body sideways, places one arm around my shoulders and one arm under my knees, then I lift her up bridal style. There is no resistance and I smile internally when Catherine wraps her arms around my neck. Then I frown an instant later because I can feel just how thin Catherine is. I could count her ribs through her shirt if I was so inclined. Doesn't she eat? I'll have to remember to bring this up with JJ later.

I walk slowly out of the bathroom into the darkened hall, not because Catherine is heavy but because I don't want to startle her. I can hear her counting the steps I take under her breath, I wonder if counting my steps calms her down. JJ would know, but JJ isn't here to ask. When we arrive at the door to Catherine's bedroom, I reach for the door handle, turn it and open the silver painted door.

Catherine flinches after I open the door, I think it's because of the light pouring into the room from the huge window; it must be at least six feet wide. That is when I notice the big cat sprawled out over Catherine's bed. No one mentioned a cat to me before. I had not seen it at all last night. It's massive probably about three feet long. For a minute or two, I am unsure of what to do with Catherine; do I go over to the window and close the blinds with Catherine still in my arms or do I put her now next to that possibly ferocious cat.

I stall for time whispering to Catherine, "That is one big cat."
"Una." She whispers back, there is a small smile on her face at the mention of the cat.
"The Una from Edmund Spencer's The Faerie Queen?" I ask. I wonder if Catherine has read that story. She must have if she's studying English Literature. I laugh silently thinking of Una who is supposed to be a spiritual guide to the Redcrosse knight and who is juxtaposed against Duessa.

Catherine blushes, and then mutters, "Celtic Una."
Wait a minute, I know what that name means, this time I cannot repress my laughter, and it bubbles out "You named your cat lamb?" Oh the irony! If I'm right, Catherine has a Kellas cat or a mixed breed of one. Kellas cats were thought at one time to eat sheep but probably only ever managed to carry off a sickly or newly born lamb.

Catherine covers her ears when I laugh and I regret my moment of carelessness. I sit her down on the bed and cross her bedroom to the window. While I am closing the blinds, I notice that it is a blackout blind; I wonder if Catherine has frequent migraines. I doubt that blackout blinds are a common feature in a teenager's room. I turn around after I have closed both the blind and curtains; Catherine is taking off her sunglasses but keeping her eyes closed. She reaches out with one arm and when her hand makes contact with that big cat she pushes a little and whispers, "Move Una."

I smile as I cross the room and when the cat doesn't move and I can't say that I am surprised. Una looks rather comfortable stretched out on Catherine's bed. I pick up Una gently and place her down on the floor. I am relieved when she doesn't scratch or bite, just a whine followed by a low warning growl of vexation.

I step forwards quickly because Catherine has tried to stand up while I was busy with Una and is now swaying and I can see her legs wobbling. She sits down abruptly, a blush colouring her face. I let it go without saying anything; there is no need to draw attention to her embarrassment. I pull back the blankets on Catherine's bed and help her to climb under them. I tuck her in and am surprised when she grabs my hand. I try to take my hand back but Catherine won't let go. There is a small sound that escapes my throat but I don't want to put a name to it.

The notion of no inter-team profiling had gone out the window a while back. I need to be able to read Catherine so that I know what she wants, what she needs. I've been profiling her since I saw her get up from the couch. Well, that is not entirely true, I have been profiling Catherine but I have also had to stop compartmentalizing and let a few of my walls down. Catherine isn't an unsub, she's just a teenager with a migraine. Someone who is supposed to be family, just like the team. And that needs to count for something; I don't have enough family to turn down the offer from this small fay-like child.

I stop trying to pry my hand away from Catherine's death grip. I think I will like having her as part of my 'family'. I run my fingers through her hair, moving it away from her face. Before I realize what I'm doing, I have kissed Catherine's forehead and whispered "Crierwy (kree-ree), you need to let go of my hand for a minute okay?"
Catherine's eyes open and I am startled by their colour, a blue grey combination that seems to be changing even as I watch. "Crierwy?" she asks me.
I blush, damn it. Why did I use that name? It slipped out; it wasn't supposed to be vocalized. I cannot answer her aloud so I answer her inside my head; Crierwy means treasure. You, my dear Catherine are a treasure, the first person in a long time that makes me feel like I belong somewhere. No one since Matthew- I stop myself shot. There is no need to go there Emily, stop thinking about that.

"Catherine, let go of my hand for a minute, I need to check something okay?" I can't help but feel like I am running away, even if I'm not really going to go anywhere. I need a few minutes to regain my composure.

She releases my hand and I run my fingers through her hair one more time, I hope it is a comforting gesture.

I tell myself that I am not fleeing as I move quickly through the apartment. I stop in the living room for a minute to grab my phone and iPod. I send off a text to JJ "Where are you?" I hope that my panic is not evident to her when she reads the text. When I get to the kitchen, I open the cupboards, trying to find a glass, and then I open the fridge to get some water. Next is the bathroom where I wet the washcloth with cool water again and grab the Advil that I noticed earlier out of the medicine cabinet. I stop at the bedroom doorframe, scared to enter, Catherine looks so vulnerable and tiny, lying there in her big bed.

I can hear Catherine sigh quietly when she notices me in the doorway so I swallow my fear and cross the threshold. I shut the door quietly and I tiptoe across the room, trying to make as little noise as possible. I sit down on the edge of the bed closest to Catherine less than arm's reach away and put the Advil and water on nightstand next to Catherine's bed. She doesn't flinch and I have to wonder if the arms' reach rule isn't a little redundant right now. She obviously wants me around. I really should look up Post Traumatic Stress when I get home so that I'll know what to do. I suppose I could always ask JJ or Reid like Catherine suggested earlier today.

I lie down on Catherine's bed. Stretching out on my side so that I can keep her face in view and not do anything to upset her or trigger a panic attack. Una who is lying on Catherine's feet gets up and tries to climb onto my legs; I push her away with my foot gently. I lean over Catherine, hoping that this doesn't bother her too much to put the cool washcloth back onto her forehead. My breath hitches and I feel rather happy when Catherine curls into me, attempting to rest her head on my shoulder. I lie down on my back so that I can accommodate her silent and unusual request for comfort.

It seems to be working because Catherine's head is now resting on my shoulder and part of my t-shirt is clenched in one hand while the other hand has its fingers laced through mine. I wrap my other arm around Catherine and rest my head on hers. My heart is racing and I am so very worried that I will mess this up. Giving comfort like this is new to me and I don't want to scare her. I also don't want JJ to find me asleep in bed with her sister, even if I am lying on top of the covers.

I listen to my music and watch Catherine's body shut down as she falls asleep. Then I take a few minutes to observe and profile her room. The walls are two walls are silver and the curtains covering the window are black. One wall, the small one, closest to the door is completely covered by bookshelves, it might be silver behind the shelves but I cannot tell because the shelves are covered in books. There are a few pictures on the top shelf but I am too far away to see them properly. The wall opposite the bookshelves has the window and a desk. The bed, where we are lying is between the books and the window with the desk in the far corner of the wall. A gorgeous mural of a forest during a full moon covers the wall opposite the bed. I can just pick out a few animals hidden between the trees and something that I want to call a faerie circle but surely I am mistaken.

The curtains and blackout blind are obviously necessary in light of Catherine's migraines but I can't help but wonder if they are also a statement. Silver is a cool colour, it is not warm like yellow or red or orange but maybe it is calming to Catherine. It has to mean something or she wouldn't have picked it for her walls. In the Celtic tradition, silver means a connection of the earthly and heavenly realms, or otherworld. Maybe I was right about the faerie circle in the mural after all. I notice that there is no red or green in her room, not even in the painting of the forest. Those are faerie colours and red is also the Celtic colour or death.

All of the furniture is wooden but painted black. The contrast of the silver walls and black furniture is awe-inspiring. The colour black absorbs all the light without reflecting any of its colours back. In North American tradition, black is associated with mystery, death, mourning and the underworld. The full bookshelves show both a love of reading and desire for knowledge. I would have to get out of bed and actually look at the book titles to know more.

The mural is gorgeous. I know that in Celtic legends, trees guard sacred wells and provide forms of healing, shelter, and wisdom and were often the entrance to the realms of the Gods or the Faerie Otherworld. Forests are always mysterious; you never know what you might find in one. I stare at Catherine's forest mural for a long time, after a while I notice that there is a stone well hidden in the trees. I don't know where the thought comes from but I wonder if Catherine ever feels like she is drowning.

I wonder if the pictures on top of the bookshelves are of Catherine and JJ's family, not just the team family, but also their parents. Maybe Catherine has friends from school up there, I really want to take a look at the pictures but I restrain my curiosity, I've already stepped so far over the no inter-team profiling line that it's no longer in sight.

I am starting to drift off when I hear the apartment door open and I tense immediately. I feel like a naughty child caught with their hand in the cookie jar, but I haven't done anything wrong. If anything, I have done everything right. I took care of Catherine just like JJ would have if she had been home.

With my arm lying protectively over Catherine and her head resting on my shoulder, her hand attached to my t-shirt and her other hand laced through mine, I can't figure out how to disentangle Catherine from myself without waking her up. She's only been asleep for a little over a half hour. I don't want to wake her if I don't have to.

I can hear JJ walking down the hall towards the bedroom. My stomach is in knots.

She arrives at the bedroom door and stops short, observing us, "Emily?" She questions, her voice filled with incredulity.

"Uh, hi JJ." I try to stop the blush from colouring my face.
She raises one perfectly plucked, blonde eyebrow.

"Catherine has a migraine." I whisper, still fighting to control the blush rising up my cheeks.
She makes a noise that sounds like "Mhm." JJ walks into Catherine's bedroom, closer to the bed with a blank look on her face.
I swallow, "I didn't do anything, I swear."

She giggles and I realize that I've been had. She tricked me. "Relax Emily, it's okay."

I sigh, there is no anger in me at being tricked, just relief that I'm not going to be reamed out for lying in bed with my colleague's little sister.

"I was expecting something like this to happen," She whispers, "Catherine is due for another migraine. They always happen around this time of year when the weather changes and she's been getting very little sleep and that never helps."
"Um JJ," I pause, trying to figure out how to ask my question, "how am I supposed to get Catherine to let go of me without waking her up?"
She smiles at me, "You've been really good with her Emily, Thank you. Unfortunately, you won't be able to get Catherine to let go of you without waking her up. How long has she been asleep?"

I smile back at her happy that she approves. "About a half hour."
JJ frowns a little, "Okay," she pauses, "well, she won't be waking up on her own anytime soon. Her body pretty much shuts down when she has a migraine. Even her hyper-vigilance is lessened."
The look that fills JJ's face when she talks about Catherine is full of love but it is tinged with sorrow. I want to ask her questions about what happened to Catherine but right now is definitely not the time for difficult questions about the little girl sleeping in my arms.
"So, what am I supposed to do then?" I ask, biting my lip.
"I'm going to help you move her over a little bit then I'm going to climb into bed with the two of you." She smiles and moves closer to the bed to do just that.

Once we move Catherine over enough, JJ slips into the bed behind her little sister.
JJ looks at me with a measuring gaze, "You didn't have anything else planned today did you?"
I shake my head slightly, "No."
JJ runs her fingers through Catherine's long blonde hair, "Good, sometimes she takes forever to wake up."
I can't help but feel that I have passed some sort of unwritten, unknown test. It makes me smile internally.

Catherine makes a strange noise in her sleep. I swear she must know that JJ is here because she releases my hand where our fingers were laced together and reaches out with that same hand towards JJ. I can see JJ smiling in the small amount of light coming into the room from the hallway.

JJ reaches out for her little sister's hand and says, "Hello princess." When Catherine's questing hand finds purchase on JJ's t-shirt.

JJ and I grin at each other; Catherine has unknowingly tied the three of us together. We are family.

Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. "Pooh?" he whispered.

"Yes, Piglet?"

"Nothing," said Piglet, taking Pooh's hand. "I just wanted to be sure of you."

- A.A. Milne