Emily was basically asleep standing up in line for coffee in the hospital cafeteria when Reid approached behind her. He tapped lightly on her shoulder to alert her to his presence and immediately had to duck to avoid her flying fist as she whirled around, fight-or-flight mode activated.

"It's just me," he squeaked, holding up his hands to protect his head.

Her eyes widened comically, realizing who she'd almost pummelled. "Oh my God, Reid, I'm so sorry!" she apologized, resting a gentle hand on his upper arm.

"It's okay," he assured her, though he still sounded a little terrified. He attempted a smile, but it was somewhat muted as he studied her. Her eyes had heavy bags under them and her usually utterly immaculate appearance was uncharacteristically dishevelled. "Have you been getting any sleep at all?"

"No," Derek answered for her. He watched as night after night she sat awake at his bedside, frantically picking her nails until they bled, talking softly to him, telling him all the secrets she'd never told anyone before as if she could wake him up by just proving she loved him enough.

"Some," she said vaguely. "The chairs in Derek's room aren't exactly comfortable to sleep in."

"You should go back to your hotel," he urged gently. "Get some real sleep; even just an hour will help improve your cognitive functions and..."

She was already shaking her head before he finished the thought. "I can't. I need to be here when he wakes up. I promised him I would."

"Emily, that's irrational. Besides, I'm sure he won't mind if you take a short nap and..."

"He's right, Princess. You're going to burn out. I need you to take care of yourself. For both of us."

"Reid," she said and there was a note of pleading in her voice. "Please. I can't..."

His eyes were full of worry, but he didn't voice it. He knew there was no reaching her when she got like this. "So, I've been thinking," he said, changing the subject, "We've exhausted the more traditional medical approaches to waking him up, maybe if we tried some of the more unconventional approaches..."

Emily's eyes lit up. "Reid, you're my hero!" she declared enthusiastically. "I'll do anything."

"Think of his brain like a car in the winter time – all the parts are in working order, but for some reason it just won't start. By delivering an alternating and pulsing electromagnetic field to his prefrontal cortex, we can possibly induce waking."

"A little juice in the old caboose," Derek said eagerly, clapping his hands together. "Let's do this thing and get me out of here."

"You've lost me," Emily said, gently prodding him to get to the point.

"Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation," he summarized.

She frowned. "I've heard of that... Doesn't that lead to seizures?"

"Not if the frequency is low enough."

"So, how exactly does it work?"

"Neuronal depolarization." Then, seeing her look of utter confusion, he explained, "Basically, it excites the brain."

"Sounds fun."

"I'll try anything," she said again. Then, softer, "I know I don't say it enough, but...thank you." She smiled, but there was something about it that made his heart ache.

Derek whipped his head around sharply. One moment, he was watching the doctor turn on the TMS, the next he was in a dark warehouse.

After recovering from the initial shock, he knew exactly what was about to happen. He took off running, shouting, "Emily!" without fear for himself. He knew it wasn't real, but that didn't stop the fear from chasing bile up his throat.

He dropped to his knees beside her barely conscious form, reaching for her hands. "Emily... Emily, no!" He'd seen it before, but that did nothing to stop the panic that engulfed him at the sight of the stake sticking out of her abdomen, the knowledge that it would be fatal.

He looked up from the gore of her stomach to shout for medics that weren't coming because none of this was real and then he saw her.

She looked exactly as before, all soft childlike beauty, every bit her mother – the only thing that was different was his understanding.

"Rosie..." he whispered, hardly daring to believe it was really her. She seemed to start at the sound of her name, taking a timid step back. "No, no, no," he urged softly. "It's okay – please, don't go."

"Derek?" Emily croaked, unaware of her daughter standing inches away.

"I'm here, baby, I'm right here," he reassured, squeezing her frail hands tighter. "You're going to be alright. Stay with me, baby. Come on, stay with me."

"Let me go," she begged.

"Don't let go!" Rosie urged, more insistent, more desperate.

"I'm not letting you go!" he echoed. "Look over there, Em, look at our little girl. She's right here with us and she says it isn't your time. So, stay with me!"

The little girl started backing up, as if to leave, and Derek was filled with heavy sadness. "Don't go, Rosie! Please, just stay a little longer."

She paused and there was hesitation in her rigid posture, but she didn't vanish like before.

"Yes, there you go, girl. Your mom and I love you so much and we miss you everyday. Don't we, Em?" Emily didn't respond, but this wasn't real, she wasn't real – the only thing that was real was him and he needed to say everything to his baby girl in case this was the only chance he had.

"We wanted you so much, Angel. You were so wanted and so loved – you were the best thing to ever happen to us. Never ever forget that, okay? You were loved. You are loved."

Emily coughed up a little bubble of blood, then, breaking the spell between father and daughter. The child startled and, as if only just remembering where she was, disappeared.

"Rosie, wait!" Derek called after her. "Rosie!"

"D-Derek?" Emily stammered.

"Yeah, Princess?" he asked, sweeping her hair off her face.

"I..." she started to say, but before she could finish, he was pulled back sharply, yanked through realities and back into his own.