Many, many thanks to those who leave reviews. It's always nice to hear feedback about your writing. I really do appreciate each and every one.
This chapter was incredibly difficult to write as it hit pretty close to home, which I didn't realize until I was right in the thick of it. I'm pretty pleased with how it turned out though. Happy reading!
"Healing is a matter of time, but it is sometimes also a matter of opportunity." –Hippocrates
"Hey Mama."
"Derek! How are you?"
"I'm fine, Mama. Listen, do you have anything planned for this weekend?"
"Nothing concrete, no. Why?"
"I was thinking of flying out to visit you, since we have next week off of active case rotation and I'm due some vacation time."
"Oh, a visit from my son! You spoil me, Derek," I say teasingly.
I hear him chuckle, "What, no guilt trip? I know it's been awhile since I got out to Chicago..."
"Well, I'll turn on the guilt trip when you get here and I can do it in person. It's pretty good timing actually since your sisters are both on vacation."
"Sounds good, Mama," he says as he laughs again. "Listen, there was something else..."
"Mmhmm..."
"Would it be okay if I brought someone?"
"Derek Morgan, bringing someone home to meet the family?" I say with mock surprise. I know exactly who he wants to bring.
"Mama, please be serious."
"Of course, Derek. What time should I pick you and Emily up at the airport?"
He is quiet for a moment before he speaks with a tone of slight confusion, "I didn't say it was Emily I was bringing..."
"Am I wrong?"
"No...but how did you know it was her I wanted to bring?"
"Mother's intuition, dear. Never question it."
"Okay. Pick us up at 3 on Friday?"
"I'll be there."
"Great, see you then."
I arrive at the airport a few minutes early, park the car, and settle into a chair by the arrivals gate. My thoughts wander to the last time Derek visited. He'd turned up out of the blue at the door, his soul heavy, and eyes dark with sadness. I'd tried to get him to explain exactly what had happened, but he said he couldn't. All he told me was that Emily Prentiss, his partner, and the woman I was sure he loved, was dead. I'd only ever seen him that broken once before, when his father had died. He stayed a week, and bit by bit he grieved and let his emotions out.
"Mama, she's gone. She's really gone, isn't she?" he whispers as he throws his arms around me and buries his face into my shoulder, just as he did as a child.
"Yes Derek, she's gone."
There aren't really any words to comfort him, so I just hold him, and rub soothing circles on his back as he sheds his tears for the woman I know he loved. After several minutes his tears have stopped, and his breathing has slowed to a normal rate. I release my hold on him and gently push his face up so his eyes meet my gaze. His eyes look exactly the same as they did all those years ago, after the death of his father. Haunted.
"You have to keep living Derek," I tell him. "You have to cherish the time you had with her, and honour the impact she left on you."
He nods solemnly as he stands and grabs his bag. Determination fills his eyes, and he walks to the door. He once again portrays the strong and good man he has grown up to be.
"Thank you, Mama. For... everything."
"Of course, Derek."
He gives me one last hug, and opens the door to catch his flight home.
I smile as I see his familiar frame in the distance. They walk side by side, each carrying a bag. Derek smiles as he sees me, and his pace speeds up noticeably. I take in Emily's appearance: she looks tired, worn out, far too thin, and like she's gone several rounds as an emotional punching bag. But I suppose dying and subsequently coming back to life might do that to a person.
He greets me warmly with a smile and a strong hug, which I return in kind.
"Mama, it's been too long."
"You know it, Derek Morgan. These visits better get more frequent or I'll have to start sending your sisters out to bother you for me," I tease with a smile. Emily is shyly observing the interaction. I can tell she never had this kind of relationship with her mother as a child.
"Of course, just so long as these bad guys stick to a relatively manageable schedule," he says with a wink.
Emily has begun to bite her nails – no doubt a nasty nervous habit developed as a response to the often gruesome sights and situations she and Derek take on every day. I am struck by how different this woman standing in front of me is from the one I met just a few years ago. That woman was confident, strong, and keeping up with her colleagues. This woman looks a stone's throw from completely broken, her posture and mannerisms giving away her lack of confidence. She's trying to put up a brave front, cramming the pain and sadness deep down, but it's leaking out the cracks.
"Mama, you remember Emily Prentiss? From a few years ago? She helped me outta that mess..."
"Of course I do. Emily, it's lovely to see you again," I say warmly with a smile. Her eyes jump up from her hands, and meet mine. They look haunted, but by what I'm not yet sure. She puts her hand forward to shake mine, but I shake my head and open my arms instead. She shoots a quick look to Derek, who smiles at her in encouragement. She drops her bag and tentatively steps forward with a very small, and very forced smile. I wrap my arms around her, and all I can feel is nervous energy.
"It's nice to see you again, Mrs. Morgan, and under better circumstances," she says as she pulls away quickly, clearly unnerved by the embrace.
"Please, call me Fran. "Mrs. Morgan" makes me feel decidedly old," I say with a chuckle. She smiles faintly in response.
"Well, shall we get going? I'm sure you're both sick of airports, and would love nothing better than to freshen up and enjoy this beautiful day."
"Sounds good, lead the way," Derek says with a smile. He grabs his own and Emily's bag before she can protest, and shoots her a large grin.
Emily doesn't respond to Derek's actions, and this strikes me as significant. Derek has told me about her stubborn independence over the years, so for her to not respond is strange even to me. Her neutral expression takes over her face once more, and I wonder exactly how long it's been since she's really smiled or laughed. Taking in her appearance once more, I also wonder exactly when the last time she ate a full meal or slept soundly was.
I lead the way to the car, and begin pondering her presence here. Derek obviously brought her to help her recover from whatever it is she went through, and she needs all the help she can get it seems.
"So how long are you two staying for?" I ask.
Derek shrugs in response, "The weekend at least, maybe a couple more days if that's okay. We'll see how we feel. We've got a bit of time off, so..."
And of course by "we" he means how "she" feels.
"Sounds perfect. Of course I'd love to have you as long as you can stay!"
We reach the car, load their bags, and climb in. I didn't miss Emily scanning the parking garage's darkened corners and exits, and nearly jumping out of her skin at a squealing of tires from a few rows over. Whatever happened to this poor girl, she clearly needs a relaxing weekend, though I'm not sure she'll be able to have one, given the state she's in.
Their first day here passed relatively uneventfully. We ordered pizza, and sat up talking for a while. Well, Derek and I talked. Emily mostly sat and observed us, partially listening to our conversation, partially staring out the window at the falling snow, a look of rumination in her eyes. I sent Derek to prepare the guest room, and offered her a mug of tea which she declined politely. She thanked me for the pizza, and bid me goodnight.
The next day, Derek and Emily went for a walk, with Derek showing her all the important places of his youth, and Emily no doubt scanning the environment for potential threats and planning exit strategies. It's no wonder when they returned she looked exhausted once more. That and I'm convinced she didn't sleep more than a couple hours.
As I am busy preparing a home-cooked dinner I can't help overhearing a snippet of the hushed conversation between Derek and Emily as they sit in the living room warming up from their walk.
"Does your mother know what I did?" her tone is quiet and strained.
"She knows you were dead, and are quite obviously not dead now," Derek says carefully.
"So she thinks I just abandoned you guys?"
"Emily, no one thinks that," Derek says with a sigh. He's obviously had to make this argument a few times.
I turn my attention back to the potatoes I need to peel, and an idea strikes me. I make sure to make enough noise that they know I'm approaching, and enter the doorway to the living room.
"Derek, I was wondering if you could pop into the store and get some of that ice cream that I like for dessert."
"Sure, Em and I can go now. But with the snow and the traffic we might be awhile," he replies with a smile.
"Well, actually I was hoping Emily might help me with making dinner. Your sisters usually help me out, but they're not here so I'm down two pairs of hands. And I know better than to let you anywhere near my kitchen," I say, hoping I'm not pushing the envelope.
Emily's eyes widen for a fraction of a second at the suggestion, but her manners ultimately take over, "Of course Mrs. Mor- Fran. I'd love to."
"Oh Mama, you don't know what you're getting yourself into. Keep her away from the stove!"
I open my mouth to scold him, but I'm pleasantly surprised when Emily beats me to the punch, "Derek Morgan. Are you really going down this road again? Worry about your own severely lacking cooking skills!"
I smile at Derek's surprised expression, and at the sign of life from Emily. So she is in there after all. She seems to realize her outburst, and shyly looks at me once more, "Sorry. He's just infuriating sometimes."
"You're preaching to the choir, dear," I reply with a wink.
Derek grabs his coat, whispers something to Emily, and swiftly leaves the house as we move into the kitchen.
"So what did you need me to do, Fran? Despite what Derek thinks, I'm not completely hopeless in a kitchen," she says with a small smile.
"Those potatoes need peeling, if you don't mind. I've got to get the chicken ready."
"Of course."
We work for a few minutes before I'm pleasantly surprised once more when she breaks the silence.
"Thank you so much for having me this weekend, Fran. It really means a lot that you'd open up your home to me. Especially after everything I've put Derek through."
I stop my preparation of the chicken and regard her. She is focused intently on her task, but I know she can feel my gaze because she shifts almost uncomfortably on her feet. Knowing Derek is at least another 45 minutes or so away from returning, I decide to push a little deeper.
"I've never seen him quite to broken up, not even after his father died."
I hear her inhale and exhale quickly, probably in an attempt to restrain her emotions, to cram them down and pretend they aren't there.
"He came here after your death, you know. He just showed up out of the blue, with this heaviness on his heart, and tears in his eyes."
Her shoulders drop and I hear the smallest of sniffles as she remains intently focused on peeling the potatoes.
"He just kept saying, "Mama, I lost her. She's gone. She's gone." over and over again," I feel a bit cruel doing this to her, but she needs to break the dam of emotions open before she can hope to heal.
She drops the knife and potato she is holding and places her hands on the counter, to steady herself. I see her body shudder with the sobs she is desperately trying to suppress.
"He said he couldn't tell me what happened exactly, but he told me you'd died protecting someone. He told me how he felt so... so lost after you died. How he felt like a part of him was missing without his partner. Without his friend."
I reach out and put my hand on her shoulder. She does not flinch or shrug away, but in a small, broken voice speaks, "I didn't want to hurt him."
I turn her around slowly and take in her tear-stained face, and despair-ridden posture. She meets my gaze and almost immediately turns her eyes to her hands which are busy picking at nearly non-existent fingernails. I wrap my arms around her and pull her close, willing her to drop her defenses entirely. She doesn't fight the embrace, but she doesn't reciprocate it either.
We stay like that for what seems like hours, but is really only a few moments before she finally gives up trying to restrain her emotions, and I feel sobs wrack her too-thin frame. Her arms find their way around me, and she holds me tightly as if I'm anchoring her in some way.
"I know dear. I know you didn't want to hurt him."
A fresh bout of shuddering overtakes her at my words, and I feel her tears dampen my shirt.
"But I did, and I can't fix it now," she says between sobs, her voice painfully broken.
Minutes pass as she stays safe within my arms, fighting to compose herself. She finally manages to stem the flow of tears and control her sobs. She pulls away from the embrace and quickly tries to wipe away the evidence of her breakdown, "I'm sorry, I just... Being away from him, from them, was hard."
"Of course it was. You lost your friends when you were... gone. They mourned the loss of you, but you never really got to mourn your loss of them. I'd imagine you were too busy fighting for your life and focusing on surviving, wherever you were for those months."
She doesn't respond, but is carefully considering my words.
"But that isn't what's really bothering you, is it? It's more that you feel you betrayed them, isn't it?"
Her only response is a nod.
"I don't know the specifics of the situation, but I know that you would never do anything to hurt your friends. Stop blaming yourself, Emily. I'm assuming it was a completely necessary turn of events that led to your need to disappear in the most extreme way. And they know that. They just need time to process."
"I know. It's just difficult – I'm not entirely sure how to move forward from here," she reveals, apprehension plain her voice.
"You build up the friendships one by one. You'll find they'll be stronger having gone through these trials. I can already see you and Derek are on your way to strengthening your friendship."
Her eyes widen at my words.
"Don't look so surprised. My baby boy never brings anyone home to me. You must be pretty special to him to have that honour. I see the way he looks at you. He may have been angry at first, but all he is now is concerned for you. Let him help you. He feels helpless watching you struggle. He needs to help, it's how he copes."
Her eyes soften and the corners of her mouth turn upward ever so slightly to form a small smile, "Okay."
"Good. Now give me another hug, and you go freshen up a bit, you look a mess. But don't be too long, these potatoes won't peel themselves," I say with a smile, my tone sounding decidedly motherly.
She wraps her arms around me, and the nervous energy that permeated her body before has dissipated significantly. In its place I feel the small beginnings of healing. She walks quickly out of the kitchen toward the guest room, and even her gait looks less burdened. While she's far from okay, it's the all important first step toward reaching it.
Derek returns a little while later and we enjoy a delicious dinner, full of engaging conversation, laughter, and smiles all around the table. Emily's eyes are still dark with sadness, but are brighter than they were yesterday. Her posture holds more confidence, and her soul seems far less heavy than when she first arrived. While she still looks exhausted physically and emotionally, her spirits have been buoyed a bit by her release of the tension which had no doubt been there for months. Derek seems to have noticed, and he takes every opportunity to make her smile and laugh. His own smile seems to widen with each of hers.
"So, are you two going to hang around a few more days?" I ask after finishing the last of my bowl of ice cream.
Emily smiles knowingly at me, "Yes, I think we'll stay a few more days. At least, if that's okay with you Derek? And with you Fran?"
Derek nods, his mouth full of ice cream, and I smile in response, "Of course dear. I'm happy to have you."
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