"Derek..." Emily whispered, taking his hand in hers and interlacing their fingers, then softly kissing the back of his hand. "I don't know know how to do this..."

"Me neither," he murmured. He stroked a hand over her hair and, for a moment, she shut her eyes and leaned into his hand, almost as if she could feel him.

Her eyes were still closed as her breath caught on the lump in her throat. "And I don't know what to do."

"I know, Princess."

"Because it feels like I'm giving up on you." Her breath hitched on a sob she was trying her best to hold back.

"I know that's not true," he assured. His thumb gently stroked over her cheekbone the way he used to do when he watched her sleep.

"And I am not giving up on you," she vowed. Her eyes opened then, lifting to the ceiling as her tongue flicked out over her top lip.

"I know."

"Screw it! I can't..." The sobs finally won out and she choked on her words. "I can't do this, I won't do this. I will not say goodbye to you. I won't, okay?" With an anguished wail, she buried her head in his chest, crying freely now in spite of her best attempts to keep her emotions in check. She'd promised herself she wouldn't do this, wouldn't break down, but things had never really gone according to plan where he was concerned.

"That's my girl. You never let me go." He ran a hand along her back, feeling every sob beneath his palm. Then, softer, "Never let me go."

"Emily...it's time," Fran said gently from the doorway. "I'm sorry."

"I know." And she did know, but that didn't make it any easier to understand or to live with. It didn't make her hate her any less.

With little fanfare, the doctor went through the process of turning off the ventilator – like it didn't matter, like he didn't.

"Derek, I am here, okay?" Emily said urgently, squeezing his hand that much tighter.

"You hold on tight," he whispered in her ear.

Emily burst out of Derek's room, crying so hard she nearly choked on each gulping breath.

Reid and Garcia were waiting for her with that look on their faces – like they knew what she was going through, like they could make it better if they just said the right words or did the right thing. Like this would all go away if they just loved her enough. She hated that look.

"Em..." Garcia spoke first, swooping in with a hug she didn't want. "Are you okay?"

"No! I'm not okay!" she exclaimed, stepping out of reach. "It's never going to be okay!"

"I know it feels like that, but..."

Emily held up a hand to stop her. "Before you say it, just...don't."

Garcia's face fell, but she said nothing more on the matter. "Are you going to stay...until it happens?"

"I can't." She shook her head vehemently. "I can't watch him die. I just can't."

"Do you want to go..." Garcia started to offer, not wanting her to be alone right then.

Emily was already shaking her head. "Stay. Be with him. I need to go."

Derek whipped his head around sharply. One moment he was standing in his hospital room, listening to his mother say her goodbyes, the next he was standing in the candy aisle at a gas station.

"Hello?" he asked cautiously. "Can anyone hear me?" He came around the end of the aisle, looking for someone else. "Can anyone see me?"

That's when he spotted him, standing at the counter, paying for gas. "Dad?" His voice was small and hopeful and he felt all of ten years old all over again.

His father didn't turn around, didn't react at all at the sound of his voice.

"Dad?" he said again. The eerie familiarity of everything settled uneasily in his gut. "Hello? Can anyone hear me?"

"Are you ready to go, buddy?" his dad asked, turning and looking right through him. "We're going to be late for the game if we don't hustle."

In that moment, those familiar words echoing through his head, Derek realized why he felt so unsettled. "Dad! Look out!" he cried as the two armed men burst inside and started firing.

Just like when he was ten years old, he could do nothing but watch in horror as his father was struck, falling to the floor with an agonized cry, blood already blossoming across his Bears jersey in a wide crimson stain.

Just like when he was ten years old, he rushed to his father's side, hands trembling as he tried to stop the bleeding, bullets still raining down around him.

"Dad? Dad!" he cried, desperate for a response, a sign he was still alive. "Someone help me!" he shouted, looking about for someone, anyone at all.

That's when he saw her.

She couldn't have been more than three years old and something about her face made him ache with familiarity. Time seemed to stop as they stared at each other. There were so many things he wanted to ask in that moment, like why she could see him when no one else could.

She said nothing, just stared at him with doe-like amber eyes framed by long dark lashes. Her lavender dress fluttered about her knees in a nonexistent breeze. Her head was encircled by a crown of white rosebuds woven into her soft raven ringlets. Around her neck, she wore a golden chain with a rose pendant.

He felt like he couldn't breathe. He was filled with the overwhelming need to protect the girl, to save her. "Run!" he called to her, "Go! It isn't safe!"

She just stood there like she hadn't heard, cocking her head to the side slightly, almost curiously. Then, she said three words that made his heart stop. "Don't let go."

She turned slowly and disappeared into nothing.

"Wait!" Derek called after her. He was crying and he didn't know why. "Please!"

But she was already gone.

Then, just as quickly, he was back in the hospital room.