In the end, the judge sided with his mother.

One by one, the team came to pay their respects before he was taken off life support.

Rossi sat by the bed and said the rosary, praying for Derek's soul, that his struggles with faith be forgiven. Derek got down on his knees and prayed with him, for the first time since Emily had died – he prayed not for himself, but for his mother and for his sisters, for his friends and most of all, for Emily. When he finished his prayer, Rossi poured himself a glass of scotch from a bottle he'd smuggled past the nurses and toasted Derek's life. He said his goodbyes with a fond smile and a solemn nod, with a firm hand on his shoulder and an 'I'll miss you, kid'.

Hotch's visit didn't last for very long, but was no less poignant. He would be the second agent he'd lost in the line of duty, though there had nearly been others on numerous occasions – it hadn't gotten any easier, the second time around. He told Derek he was proud of him – to have served alongside him. He told him he trusted him with his life and he was sorry he hadn't better protected his. That meant more to Derek than anything else he could have said.

JJ brought Henry with her when she came to say her goodbyes. She told the boy that Uncle Derek was going to Heaven and to say bye-bye. Henry climbed onto the bed and stared into Derek's lifeless face as if confused. "He's sleeping?" he asked. Then, hollered in his face, "WAKE UP!" JJ gave a watery laugh, didn't seem to know how to reply, how to explain it in a way the four year old would understand. As she left, she paused in the doorway, opened her mouth as if to say something, but didn't...couldn't. There was nothing left to say.

Reid just sat beside his bed for a long time in silence, knee bouncing as he struggled to find words – one of the few times in his life there were none. He was all too used to people leaving – he'd just never thought Derek – who had been like the brother he'd never had, but always wanted – would be one of them. "I didn't really believe it would make a difference," he said at length, "But I hoped...I hoped she could wake you up. I knew the facts about comas, the science behind them, the likelihood of waking up...I knew all of that and I still thought maybe you could beat the odds because I knew you. How stubborn you were, how you've fought and beat the odds your whole life. I knew better than to hope, but I did anyway..."

Elle spent nearly twenty minutes wavering outside his room before she worked up the courage to go inside. He didn't know who called her, but was very thankful they did; it had been years since he'd seen her, though they emailed occasionally, and he hadn't realized how much he'd missed her until that moment. She didn't talk about the past, didn't talk about the future, and he was glad, content to hear about the now. She told him about her husband and her daughter and he could tell she was happy. He was glad. She deserved it. She told him that if her new baby was a boy, she'd name him Derek.

He was surprised that Blake visited, having only know him barely two years. He was not surprised that Gideon did not, despite having known him for many. He wondered briefly if he knew, if he cared. Only briefly, though.

Garcia came last. In many ways, hers would be the hardest goodbye. "Don't go," she begged him, already in tears, make up smudged around her eyes, when she walked in the room. Without hesitation, she embraced his incorporeal form as if he were standing there in front of her, as real as she was.

"I don't want to go, baby girl," he said firmly, wrapping his arms around her for what could very well be the last time. "I'm not ready."

"Then wake up! Just...jump back in your body!" she urged, gesturing wildly at his lifeless form.

"I'm trying," he insisted, "I have tried. Don't you think I want to? Do you think I want to die?" It came off a little accusatory and he immediately regretted his harsh tone.

"But if you don't, you'll die... You can't die. Please, don't die!" she sobbed. "I don't want to live without you..."

"You'll get through it," he assured her, "You always do. You're stronger than you know." There was a long pause then. "You'll look after her for me?" he asked, not specifying who. He didn't need to.

She nodded slowly. She didn't say that she'd never fully recover. She didn't need to.

"I would like you to remove him from the ventilator," Fran told the doctors with finality. Her voice was thick from holding back tears.

"Listen to me," Emily urged, desperate for one last chance to plead her case. "You just need to give him a little bit more time. You owe him that! Just more time! That's all he needs." Her eyes were wide and wild, her voice desperate and cracking.

Fran didn't meet her eyes – whether by choice or inability, it was unclear. "It's what we're doing," she insisted softly.

"No, no, no." Emily shook her head frantically. "We are not. Please, I am begging you!"

"Okay, look," Fran said emphatically, finally meeting her gaze. "I can see that you are in pain and I know that your heart is breaking, but so is mine! He is my son and I love him; I have always loved him and I will never stop, but I can't stand to see him in there, like that, suffering. So, I am asking you to please just let him die with some dignity!"

"I can't..." Emily said on a hitching breath. "I'm not ready to let him go."