Chapter 8

Memory and forgetfulness are as life and death to one another. To live is to remember and to remember is to live. To die is to forget and to forget is to die.
-Samuel Butler

July 22, 2012

Emily rode the elevator up to her flat feeling nervous. Penelope and Derek had been staying with her a week, and Derek had been a great friend, almost back to how it was in the beginning, but that's all he had been. He was acting like they had no romantic past, and Emily had the distinct feeling he was doing that because he thought she wanted him to behave that way. Emily found herself longing for a meaningful conversation at the very least, but the week had wasted away without the opportunity presenting itself. She looked at her watch; it was 4:30 and Garcia told her she would be home around 7:00. Now was her chance, though she didn't know how to start the conversation she wanted to have.

The lift opened and she walked to her door, unlocking it.

"Derek?" she called out.

"In here," he responded.

Emily went down her hallway and found Derek sitting on her bed, a framed picture in his hand.

"Snooping, Morgan?" she asked with a teasing voice. She recognized the picture he was looking at immediately. One day off they decided to go to the beach, and at a certain point when they were walking along the boardwalk, Derek impulsively asked a random woman to take their picture. He handed the woman his phone, grabbed Emily tightly around the waist and pulled them cheek to cheek. The woman snapped the picture when they both had these ridiculously huge smiles on their face. Emily loved it.

"I was just looking in your nightstand drawers for batteries for your TV remote. I couldn't find any out there." Derek looked up at her and back down at the picture. "This was a great day."

Emily nodded, "It was. I had it printed when I moved here, and it's always on my nightstand. I only moved it to the drawer because Garcia was here."

Derek sighed, "I'm confused, Em. I thought the whole reason you came here was to get away from us and start over, but you're sleeping with this picture next to your bed. And why would it matter if Garcia saw it at this point?"

Well, this was one way to start a meaningful conversation. Emily walked over and took the picture from him, placing it back in her nightstand drawer, then reached for his hand. "Let's go open a bottle of wine and talk," she said.

Emily released Derek's hand and walked to her bar, uncorked a bottle of Pinot and took down two glasses. She poured them and then went to Derek and handed him one. He looked comfortable enough leaning against the kitchen counter, so Emily followed suit and leaned against the counter opposite him.

"I didn't leave to start over. I left to regroup and figure myself out, and to find the space I needed to let go of the things I needed to let go of. But you were never part of that plan, Derek. You're the part that I want to hold onto."

Derek opened his mouth to speak, but Emily put up her hand signaling that she wanted to continue first. "I'm not saying that you have to hold on, too. I'm here and you're in Virginia and it's wildly unfair of me to ask you to wait, or to ask anything of you, really. But I'm holding on. You're one of the few threads of sanity and strength I have when I feel overwhelmed by my new job, or when I'm sad or lonely. Or when I'm working through the painful parts of my past." She paused and nodded at him, letting him know she was done for the moment.

"Are you working through the painful parts of your past?" he asked.

"Yes, slowly. I've found a therapist I trust, and because Doyle is dead and I'm not working for the BAU anymore, I'm in a position where I can be almost completely honest in therapy, honest enough to work through the feelings. It's helping, though I was scared shitless the first time I started talking about all of it."

"Do you talk about me in therapy?"

Emily laughed, "Frequently my therapist has to remind me to shut up about you. She says, 'Remember, this isn't the Derek Morgan Adoration Hour.' She's a hoot and I really like her. But it's slow work."

"Em," Derek sighed, "I miss you."

"I miss you, too. Everyday. But this is where I need to be right now. As far as Garcia seeing that picture goes, I want you to know that I spent the better part of five years wanting to stand on my desk and shout out to the whole bullpen that I was in love with Derek Morgan. But for her to see it now would mean admitting to years of sneaking around, and I'm just not ready to do that."

Derek set down his wine glass and stepped forward, wrapping Emily in a warm hug. "I'm holding on, too, Em." She nodded against his shoulder, then turned her head and kissed his cheek softly. Derek pulled back and looked at her for a moment, then pressed his lips to hers. Emily felt his tongue touch her bottom lip and opened her mouth to him. He brought his hands up to tangle in her hair and deepened the kiss even further. They pulled away after several moments, sucking in much needed air.

"Is this ok?" he asked.

Emily nodded. "Are you sure it's ok with you?"

"Are you kidding me? It's been almost ten months. We didn't even go that long when you were dead," he said with a laugh, and Emily smiled at him.

Derek reached his hands out and unbuttoned Emily's blouse, pulling the fabric to the sides. He leaned forward and showered gentle kissed on the skin above her bra and Emily sighed in satisfaction.

"It seems wrong of me to drag you along on this emotional roller coaster ride," said Emily.

Derek kissed her neck and whispered in her ear. "It's not a roller coaster ride, Em. It's more like a labyrinth. There are twists and turns and sometimes we get lost, but we're both inside it. We just have to hang in there until we find the middle together."