The Child

It was not only her duty to protect this child; it was her love for him that kept her going. Now it was his job to keep him safe. Declan Jones was going to get the life he disserved. He set up camera up and around his school and house, so he could always have eyes on him. "Emily, stay with me… I know what you did for Declan. I am so proud of you, you hear me? I am so proud of you… No Emily, stay with me!"

Those haunting words of him pushing her to stay alive. Was it worth it? Was all of this worth it? Maybe if he had told her how he felt she would have pushed herself just a little bit harder, that is if she felt the same way.

He sat at home with a glass of brown liquid in his hands. The smell of hard whisky filled the room. Morgan stared down at a photo he had of the two of them. They were laughing and goofing off, like a bunch of idiots. He smiled as he remembered when this was taken. It was at one of the office parties and they had just pulled a great prank on Reid. Garcia had snuck up behind them with the camera. It was great. Correction… It had been great.

It's been five months, thirteen cases, seven therapy sessions, and lots of drinks sense the horrible day, and he still felt like shit. By this point the team was falling apart, and it may even be coming to end soon. What was he going to do? Protect that child, that's what he was going to so, and he was going to do it in her honor.

Kicking back the last of his drink he walked upstairs and threw himself on the bed. He had always dreamed of her being in his bed. No clothes, just the thin sheet the cover up with. He would crawl up beside her, kiss her rosy lips, and slip his hands under the blanket. It's been so long sense he's touched her delicate skin. He thought back to the fist time they'd touched. It had been an accident, just a brush, but it was enough to set him off. "If you can hear me then just squeeze my hand… there- there you go baby…" That was the first time he held her hand in his, and it was the last.

The Man

He was going to kill him. He was going to hunt Ian Doyle down and shove a stake down his throat to see if he likes it. The anger constantly boiled inside him and he always felt like punching a brick wall. "Yeah sometimes I feel like I want to quit my job and spend my time chasing down the son of a bitch who killed Emily, you're damn right I'm angry," he snapped looking up at Hotch. He had thought about a million times a day. What if he did quit his job and he found Doyle and killed him? Where would that leave him?

Paris

Emily's Hotel Room

She cringed and let go of everything in her stomach. Her shaky hands gripped the rim of the ceramic bowl. The tears streamed down her red face as she choked on a sob. She fell to the floor and curled up in the tightest ball she could. Everything hurt. Her abdomen burned, ached, and felt like it was ripping open. The clover atop her breast itched and burned. She was running out of pain medication and was in state to run out and get more. This had been her second attempt of suicide. Popping pills.

Six months, six moths since she 'died'. She regretted lying to everyone. All she wanted was to be at home, be surrounded by the people she loved, she actually wanted a hospital. She even wished Ian would find her and end her suffering.

After a few minutes she got to her feet and regained her balance. Looking into the mirror she stripped her shirt and stared at her form. There was a long red scar that went from the bottom of her bra to the top of her bellybutton. It was a clean cut, but still ugly as hell. The clover had faded but still had that red, fresh tent to it. "I want to go home," she quivered. 'This is your home', her mind told her. She had lost weight, but so much that it made her look unhealthy.

Depression was a silent killer and it was killing her.

One of the things that kept her going was the daily online scrabble game with JJ. They weren't allowed to use the chat room, but just knowing JJ was on the other side of the screen put her at ease.

There's this thing called phantom limb. It's when an amputee thinks the limb they just lost is still there, and it hurts. She was told this when she was discharged, at first it didn't make any sense to her but now it does. When she goes to sleep at night she'll wake up hysterical. It feels like the stake is still impaled in her stomach and she can't move. Her life is worse than it was before.

Help Him

Garcia tapped her feathered pen against the edge of the table as she waited for JJ to pick up. Ring after ring after ring. "Come on JJ pick up, this is important," she begged into her headset.

"Hello,"

"Jay, it's me!" she said with relief.

"Hey Penn what's up?" she asked. "It's been awhile."

"Yeah I know and I'm sorry… it's… it's just been hard lately."

"…right."

"Anyways it's not me you should be worried about it my love bug."

"Morgan?"

"Yes. He's been really depressed lately."

"Garcia you have to give him time."

"I have given him time, six months and still nothing."

"Some people mourn differently, and he mourns silently."

"I know but when I ask him what's wrong, nothing. That's all he is nothing, an emotionless body walking around and it breaks my fragile, little heart." She could hear JJ smile through the phone, but then quickly stop.

"Penn he lost her. Derek lost Emily. His partner, his best friend, his person, they were so close and you know that. He is heartbroken, he watched her die, and he held her in her last moments."

"They were close," she confessed.

"Garcia I'm going to tell you something but it can't leave this phone conversation."

"Ok, what is it?" she asked getting slightly excited.

She sighed. "Once her funeral was over I was walking to my car, and Derek came up to me. He pulled me aside and just stared at me with these- these puppy dog eyes and whispered, "I should have told her I loved her." And with that he walked away."

Garcia was silent she didn't know how to respond to such a thing. He loved her. They were closer then she had thought. He loved her and now she was gone, "You have to help him Penn, you have to help get better," JJ said with one last breath.

"You don't forget, you just move on." She stated blankly.

"Yeah, we never forget…." She said slowly. "Or forgive," she whispered so quietly Garcia didn't hear.

"Ok, thanks JJ, and I'm sorry I haven't called."

"No it's ok, maybe we can get together for lunch or something?"

"Lunch would be nice."

"Great, see you later."

"Bye."

JJ ended her phone call and fell to the couch. She held her head in her hands and tried to keep it together. "JJ what's wrong?" Will asked entering the room.

"Nothing," she said looking up quickly.

"Is it about Emily?

She nodded slowly and looked up at him. "All I do now is lie. Lie, lie, lie, and I have this constant feeling of guilt inside me."

"I know its hard keeping this from them but Emily's alive, that's what matters."

"Right. It's just when Reid coming over crying I just want to yell at him 'She's alive, no need to worry!" but I can't, or when Garcia rarely calls me unless it's about Morgan."

"How is he?"

"Depressed, broken, how would you feel if I died?"

Sorry its short, but hoped you liked it. I you have any ideas let me know and I will see what I can do with them