Disclaimer: We own nothing.

Evgrrl again. Thank you all so much for sticking here with PolHop and I as we take you through this painful story. Much like the last chapter, this one deals with the difficult topic of suicide. Please read with caution.

The weather fit Penelope's mood just perfectly. Stone gray clouds floated overhead. The ground was wet from a morning rain and bitter wind stung at her cheeks, threatening to chill her to the bone. Thunder sounded from a distance, but so far, no more rain was coming. The weather might have affected her if she could feel anything, but right now all she felt was numb.

Penelope stood stone still, staring at the slab of granite in front of her. Derek had never shown up to her wedding the night after their final confrontation. She hadn't cared at that point, and she refused to think about him at all on her two-week honeymoon. But everything changed when she returned home.

Suicide was never something she would have expected to hear in the same sentence as Derek Morgan's name. But the minute she returned to the BAU, it was the first thing Hotch told her as she stepped into his office to report for work. After the words left his mouth, Penelope sat in a state of shock. She was unsure of how to react. At first she didn't believe it, but the minute she rose to her feet, she walked straight to his office.

Sure enough, the wood of his desk bore a bloodstain that would never be removed.

And then the abyss came. She felt like she was staring into a deep dark hole that she couldn't look away from. There was no way to describe how she was feeling. No one could be there for her in this; not the team, not JJ, not her new husband.

She had no idea why she felt this way, either. This man was the one who had cheated on her, who she had given every part of him to, but also, who she had loved more than anyone else on the planet. No she cursed herself, he had wronged her not the other way around. His death should not have affected her like this.

But it did.

As she stared at the gravestone, she fingered the folded up piece of paper in her coat pocket. She had no idea what it said, but Hotch had handed it to her the moment he told her about Derek's death.

That was two weeks ago, and yet, she hadn't brought herself to looking at the paper. Behind her eyes were tears she had refused to shed. She had missed the funeral, and there had been no opportunity for her to come to this grave before.

Or had there been? Had she just refused to face the stone because of the horrible feelings she had raging within her?

Penelope took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling slowly. She couldn't afford to start hyperventilating at this moment because then it meant she would lose all composure, all control. She clenched her hands into tight fists in frustration. How could she be here, standing over the grave of the man who broke her heart?

Her tears continued to burn with unshed tears, and she shook her head. "Damn you, Derek!" she hissed to the stone. "This never would have happened if you had just talked to me, if you hadn't made assumptions! We would have been happy together!"

Despite her better judgment, guilt plagued her heart. Had this been because of her harsh words and the mention of Buford's abuse? She had been so mad at him for what he did to her that the words just poured out of her mouth that night. Anger still cursed her for what he had done, but she also felt anger towards herself for going so low as to say he was too cowardly to face his abuser.

"How could you do this?" she demanded. If anyone had seen her, she would certainly seem like a lunatic. But she needed to say this, she had to get the words out. "How could you make me love you, and then hurt me more than anyone ever has?" She yanked the folded piece of paper from her pocket and waved it in front of the grave. "All you left was a suicide note? That's it?! Did you give some bullshit reason for this?"

Time to find out, she thought with vigor. Nearly ripping the paper in half as she opened the note, she stared at the words. Her eyes went wide. The worn sheet of paper she had refused to open contained three simple words. Five simple syllables, three small words stared back at her.

I'm sorry Penelope.

All of the sudden, grief hit her full force. Her mouth fell open and the tears she had refused to spill leaked out of her eyes. The tears slid down her frozen cheeks. Her whole body became weightless, her head becoming light. Struggling for air, she watched as tears dripped onto the paper, causing ink to spread out the words.

Crumpling the paper in her fist, Penelope bit her lip so hard it might have bled. She covered her mouth with her gloved hand. The words pierced her heart, stopping the blood flow to her body. Her anger became consumed with the grief of losing him, of his betrayal, of his death.

She had managed to keep herself strong and hold her resolve and she never would have taken him back, but she never wanted this to happen to him. She never would have wished death upon him.

Without warning, her shield crumbled. Her legs started to shake. Squeezing her eyes shut, she choked on a sob. Eventually her legs gave out and she sank to her knees, not caring that mud was staining her pants. Sorrow overflowed from her eyes in the tears she shed, and for once since vowing to be strong, she unleashed her pain and fury over the grave of Derek Morgan.

Lingering on this earth was never something Derek imagined he would do. Yet here he was, still around after his death… his suicide.

He stood behind Penelope as she wept over his grave. He wanted to touch her shoulder, to comfort her and apologize for all the pain he had caused her. But when he reached out to touch her, his hand fell through her.

There was no way to tell her how sorry he was, save for the small letter he had left her.

"I'm so sorry!" Derek shouted, even though he knew his words would never reach her ears.

"She can't hear you, you know?"

Derek's head whirled around. His mouth dropped. Before him stood his father, his own form ghostly and ethereal.

"Da – Dad?" he stuttered. His attention on Penelope shifted to his father. "What…how are you here?"

His father grimaced. "You're dead now, son," he answered. "I'm dead. We're in the same boat." He sighed. "You see that woman behind you? You see what you did to her?"

Derek looked around behind him, swallowing hard. Penelope remained on the ground, her face in her hands as her body shook with sobs. He looked back at his father. With a stiff nod, he said, "I know. It's what I did to her that made me…do… " he looked a for a brief moment, " I could never forgive myself for what I did to her. She would never take me back, and I knew I could never go through life with her hating me."

"You brought this on yourself, Derek," his father said, dead honest. "Your misconceptions of what happened brought your downfall." He pointed behind Derek toward Penelope. "This is what will happen if you don't clean up your act and be the man I know you can be."

Shame filled Derek's heart, but it was followed by confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked. "What do you mean 'this will happen' if I don't clean up my act?"

His father stepped closer to him and gave him a shove in the chest and Derek stumbled backward.

"Don't let her get away," his father said. "Don't make this mistake."

And before Derek could ask again what he meant, he was pushed backwards through Penelope and into his grave. He wanted to yell, but his voice was lost as he fell into darkness.