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The beeping of a monitor was the first thing Penelope heard. Her eyes fluttered open and her vision was blurry from not having her glasses on. She didn't feel anything for a moment, but when she tried to shift her weight slightly an agonizing wave of pain rolled over her and she felt her eyes tear up.

"You're awake!" a surprised female voice said. Penelope's eyes darted to where the person had spoken. "Ms. Garcia, let me page the doctor." She came over and started to shine a light in her eyes. Wincing, she let out a small whimper. "I know it hurts," the nurse said sympathetically. "As soon as your doctor gets here, we'll get you hooked up to a morphine line."

Penelope opened her cotton-ball dry mouth and croaked, "Derek? Is Derek okay?" The images of Harold plunging his knife into Derek's abdomen and the blood that had stained the ground flickered in and out of her mind so that her brain was assaulted with the ghastly images. Tears filled her eyes, both from the pain she was feeling and the mental horror she somehow couldn't banish from her head. "Please, tell me if Derek is okay." She begged. Even talking hurt from her throat being crushed in Harold's palm during her captivity.

The nurse touched her arm feather light and said, "He's hanging in there. You both were incredibly lucky. At first they thought neither of you were going to make it, but you both pulled through."

"Can I see him?"

"I'm afraid not," she said apologetically. "You won't be able to be moved for a few days at least."

Penelope let out a small, stifled sob. "Okay." All she wanted to do was find him. From across the blurry room, she barely made out the form of someone entering in a white coat. "Who's that?"

"Ms. Garcia," a male voice said. "I'm Dr. Bray. How are you feeling right now? On a scale of one to ten anyway, with one being just an ache to ten being excruciating."

"I feel about an eight right now," she mumbled tiredly. "Everything hurts."

"That's understandable," he said. She could hear him pulling up a chair next to her. "You're being put on a morphine pump right now. Now, it's my understanding you were held captive for several days. You've been through more than anyone should ever have to go through. You were passed out when you got here, but as far as I can tell as I can tell there was no sexual assault. I don't know if you passed out through any point of your captivity, but some women are attacked when unconscious and they don't know it." He paused for a moment. "It's also brought to my knowledge that you shot the man who did this to you. Self-defense killing is just as traumatic as any other types of killing. Even though what this man did to you was horrible, you still took a human life. That's something you don't forget."

She coughed. "So, are you saying I'm going to need counseling?" she asked, squinting at him as she tried to make out what he looked like.

"Precisely that," he said. "What happened to you…it's going to take some time to heal those wounds."

Letting out a shaky breath, she brought her uninjured hand up to wipe her tears away. She knew she was going to have to speak to somebody, but the only person right now she wanted to talk to was Derek. And according to the nurse he was still asleep. "Can you please tell me how Derek is?" she said, unable to stop her voice from cracking. "When can I go see him? I have to see him!" The sound of her heart monitor began to speed up erratically and she tried to sit up. "Please!"

The blurry form that was Dr. Bray rose and put his hand gently on her shoulder. "Okay, Ms. Garcia," he said. "How about I go check on him right now? I can come back and give you an update. Does that sound okay?"

"Yeah, okay," she said still teary eyed. "If he's awake, tell him I love him." She fixed the doctor with a commanding look and even though she couldn't see his face, she knew he could see what she was trying to convey.

"Of course," he said kindly before exiting the room.

XXXXX

Derek sat straight up in bed as if he'd woken up from a terrible dream. A sharp pain erupted from his gut and he let out a gasp. "Good God, what the hell?" he growled, looking around the white hospital room he was in. There was a wire hooking him up to an IV pump and a heart monitor was beeping as background noise in his ears. "Where am I? Penelope?" he hollered, trying to stand up. "Penelope?" Grumbling in anger, he yanked the IV out of his arm and let out a hiss when he felt the pinch of the needle leaving his arm. Clutching his stomach in discomfort, he stumbled towards the door. He leaned out of it and looked into the hallway. A nurse caught sight of him and her eyes went wide.

"Mr. Morgan!" she cried. "What in the hell are you doing?" She ran to his side and took him by the arm to try and lead him back to his room. "You can't be out and about! You've just had a major surgery."

He snarled at her. "Tell me where Penelope is," he demanded. "I'm not going back until I see her!"

She looked at him with a scolding frown. "You really shouldn't be up right now," she said doubtfully.

"Then get me a wheelchair!" From down the corridor he saw a very tired-looking Hotch approaching and gave a sigh of relief. "Hotch, man! Tell her to let me go see Penelope! I'm fine."

Hotch looked at him with irritation. "Morgan, why the hell are you up right now?" he hissed. "You need to be in bed."

Derek glared at him, feeling like he was staring at a traitor. "Dammit, I'm not going anywhere until I see her!" he yelled, turning the attention of the entire hallway towards him. "Put me in the same room as her if you have to. I'm not leaving her alone!"

Bowing his head in exhaustion, Hotch looked at the nurse and asked, "Is there a wheelchair that we can use? There's no point in trying to put him back to bed; he'll just get up again."

"I really don't –"

Hotch cut her off. "Do you really want him getting up again?" he asked shortly. "Find a wheelchair now or you'll be chasing him down through the whole hospital until he finds her." The nurse nodded and rushed off. Hotch turned to look at Derek angrily. "Are you trying to kill yourself?" he demanded. "Being up and about is going to rip your stitches. You –"

Despite all the insubordination he'd already dealt out, Derek snapped, "I don't give a damn about my stitches! The last time I left her alone some maniac kidnapped her and nearly beat her to death! I won't leave her. Not again." He tried to limp off, but Hotch grabbed his arm. Rolling his eyes, Derek sighed and said, "Fine. I'll wait for the chair."

Around a corner came the attending doctor for both Penelope and Derek that Hotch had met and he had a shocked look on his face. "What are you doing up, Mr. Morgan? You're supposed to be in a coma!"

"Yeah, well I'm up now," he grumbled. "You're my doctor?"

"Yes, I'm Dr. Bray, and you Mr. Morgan need to be back in bed at once!" he cried, looking around for a nurse. "Can I get a nurse –"

"I have a chair right here," the nurse from earlier said. Her eyes caught sight of the doctor and her mouth dropped. "Oh, Dr. Bray," she stuttered. "I'm sorry, I was just taking Mr. Morgan to see Ms. Garcia. He got up and left his room and –"

Dr. Bray cut her off with a terrible glare. "I cannot believe you let him get up in his state," he said with a shake of his head. "He has to go back to bed right now."

Derek snorted. "Try it and I'll knock you out," he said. He put on his most ferocious glare and stared the doctor down.

Hotch put his hand on Derek's arm and shot him a look that read very clearly "shut up." He looked towards Dr. Bray and shook his head swiftly. "Just let him sit in the chair," he said lowly. "He'll stay still, but it will do you no good to try and take him back to the room. He's an FBI agent; he'll get out of whatever you put on him to keep him down."

Reluctantly Dr. Bray nodded and allowed it. "Fine," he said grudgingly. "I'll talk to the nurses about setting up the other side of her room for you." He scowled. "Seeing as you haven't any intention of returning to your own room," he added in a grumble.

As Derek sat down in the wheelchair and allowed Hotch to wheel him forward, his mother came up with a cup of coffee in her hand and almost dropped the whole cup. "Derek?" she gasped, tossing the steaming cup into the nearest trashcan and rushing to his side. "Why are you awake? How are you awake? You've only been in a coma for three days?" She was by his side then, walking next to them. "Where are you going?"

"Penelope's room," Derek stated matter-of-factly. "And it's good to see you, Mama." He gave her a lopsided grin. "See? I'm all fine."

Fran kissed the top of her son's head. "Oh, you!" Tears were running down her cheeks and she held his shoulder.

When they reached Penelope's room and Derek saw the state of her on the bed, he tried to jump out of his chair, but Hotch and Fran kept him down. "Derek," Hotch warned. "One of the conditions of you coming down here was you staying still."

"Derek?" Penelope whispered from her spot. She looked so incredibly in pain that it broke his heart to see her that way. Squinting, she added, "I can't see you. Derek, is that you?"

"Hey, Baby Girl," he murmured. Looking up at Hotch, he asked, "Can you get me over there, man?" His answer was Hotch pushing him next to the bed where Penelope was still squinting at him. He took her hand as gently as he could and leaned down to place his lips on it. The pain in his abdomen was still there, an ever present burning, but he ignored it and focused on Penelope. "How do you feel right now?" Tears burned in his eyes.

Her voice came out as a croak and she said, "I'm better now that you're here." A smile formed on her face and a few tears fell down her cheeks. "Derek, I'm so sorry about this whole thing. I never wanted you to be hurt. I never thought you would get – get –" She couldn't stop the sob that was coming from her throat. "I'm so, so –"

"Shh," he said, rubbing her hand gently. "Don't you do that to yourself. You're not at fault."

"I love you, Derek," she murmured, quieting herself down.

He smiled and wiped a tear of his own away. "I love you, too, Baby Girl," he whispered back.

XXXXX

Fran and Hotch stood outside the hospital room as Derek held Penelope's hand. The love between them was radiating out of the room and throughout the corridors of the hospital. They were both in terrible states of health, but neither of them seemed to care. It was all about the other for them.

"I'm so happy he is awake," Fran said softly, tears coming out of her eyes. There were so many tears that day. She wiped them from her cheeks. "And that they've found each other. It's been so long since I've seen him as happy as when he is with her or when he speaks about her."

"The two of them light up when they're together. It's been that way since the beginning," Hotch replied. "I'm glad it will be this way from now on because I was about ready to lock them in a closet together." Both he and Fran laughed as they continued to observe the two together until the doctor invaded the scene to stick Derek in a bed directly next to Penelope's and the two fell asleep, their hands reaching for the other's in the space between their beds.