Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter! For those asking/commenting on the possibility of/hoping for a Morgan-Prentiss acting on their feelings for each other chapter... it is in the process of being written.

Happy reading!

"Everyone needs to be valued. Everyone has the potential to give something back." – Princess Diana

The moment Emily walked through the door to reveal her still very much beating heart to the team, though a smile was plastered to my face, my initial reaction was one of concern. She looked far too thin, and despite her admirable attempt with makeup I could see the dark rings under her eyes. Even the way she walked screamed of brokenness, a trait which no one ever associates with Emily Prentiss. I knew the months of isolation from everyone she knew and cared about would weigh heavily on her, but I never imagined it would be this bad. It made me question exactly how many rounds she'd gone with her own dangerously destructive thoughts.

Though she tried to hide her emotional exhaustion, her eyes ultimately gave her away. Those eyes were full of pain and distress. But despite her own emotional health, she did everything in her power to mend the relationships she'd broken with her departure. In the weeks following her return, I watched as she did everything she could to get back into the good graces of the team. She was met with varying reactions, some of which delighted her, and some of which did more damage to her already fragile emotional state.

With Garcia all it took was a hug and a promise "to never pull a stunt like that again". Rossi gave her a hug, and seemed to have had an inkling that something was up with her death all along. She tried to resume her semi-regular coffee and chess dates with Reid, and was rejected for a month straight before he gave in. Morgan took her return better than Reid did, but was still hurt from the deception, and it showed in their interactions. Where flirty and witty banter had once been, awkward silence and fragmented responses took hold, much to her disappointment. But those two would work it out eventually, that I was sure of.

Hotch and I presented a different difficulty for her to overcome. Whereas with the others she felt guilt for putting them through the ordeal of her death and deceiving them, with us she felt the need to apologize over and over for our actions to protect her. "I'm sorry you had to do all of that for me" and "You shouldn't have had to do that" were popular phrases that I'm fairly certain we each heard at least once a day. No matter how many times we tried to assuage her guilt, she would redouble her efforts to apologize.

It's painful to see her this way. She lost so much of her confidence and a lot of what made her our Emily, during those long months. Her visit with Morgan to Chicago did a lot of good, whatever happened those few days, but she still has a long way to go. And that's how she came to be sitting in my living room, beside me on my couch, shifting uncomfortably as I broached subject matter she had long since unofficially banned from discussion.

She'd done well to deftly direct the conversation elsewhere whenever anything relating to her months in isolation came up, but it was time to deal with it head on, whether she liked it or not.

"Emily, you have to talk to someone about those months."

Her eyes flame with anger, "I did. I had to get cleared for duty by the Bureau's shrink, remember?"

"Don't bullshit me, we both know you lied your ass off and told that shrink exactly what she needed to hear to be able to clear you."

She shifts in her seat, and her expression gives away her guilt on the matter.

"Em, it doesn't have to be me, or even anyone on the team, but you have to talk about it with someone."

"Why?" she spits back, her tone still harsh and irritated.

"Because it's killing you."

"No, it isn't. I'm dealing with it. I'm fine."

"You've used the word "fine" so often these past few weeks it's stopped having any meaning. Stop lying to me. Stop lying to yourself," I say forcefully, gesturing with my hands to make my point.

She doesn't say anything in response, and that silence says more than any words could have. I watch as she seems to try and fold into herself and disappear into the couch, away from my gaze.

"Em," I say, this time more softly. "I'm here, we all are. We just hate seeing you like this. It's eating at you, and we can tell you're having a rough go of it."

"So much for no inter-team profiling," she mutters under her breath.

"Don't shut us out again, Em," I say. I know it's a low blow, referencing her choice to not involve us in her fight with Doyle, but it's necessary.

Her head lowers further, and my words hit their mark. I pull her in close for a hug and feel her walls of protection begin to crumble. I can sense she's fighting internally whether to spill the emotions or not. She's chewing her lip, and her brow is furrowed, giving away her conflicted feelings.

"I didn't want to shut you out," she says quietly.

"I know, Em. I know."

"I had no choice. He would have gone after you. He had you all followed and could tell me exactly what each of you was doing to prove it to me. I couldn't let him hurt you. I couldn't let that happen."

I frown at her words, this was new information.

"You guys are my family. You're the only ones who really cared. I had to protect you."

"Care," I correct.

Her expression turns to confusion.

"We care. Present tense, not past," I clarify.

I see a few uncharacteristic tears make their way down her cheeks at my words. The dam has cracked.

"We want to help you. Let us help you."

"I can't ask that of you. I burned those bridges when I left," she says as she wipes the tears from her face forcefully.

"You don't have to ask, we're offering."

She doesn't respond, but her walls are nearly demolished completely. Her emotions, for the first time since I've known her, are clear on her face and she makes no attempt to hide them.

"We love you, Emily. Please believe that."

Her body stiffens at my words, and she tries to subtly pull away and out of the embrace. The realization washes over me in that moment. It all makes sense, given her strained-at-best relationship with her mother. She doesn't feel worthy of being loved.

With that realization, I feel a part of me break. Everyone deserves to feel loved, and to know that she doesn't believe she's worthy of that is heart-wrenching. Doesn't she know how much our hearts ached for her when she was gone? Doesn't she realize how important she is to all of us? Can't she see we'd do anything for her?

"Em-"

"No, JJ. Don't. Please," she begs, knowing what I'm going to say.

"We love you."

She cringes at my words again, and struggles against my hold on her.

"Hey, look at me. Emily! Look at me."

Her gaze rises from her hands to meet mine, but she continues fidgeting.

"It's okay to be loved, Em. You deserve it."

"No, I don't. I broke your trust, and abused our friendship."

"You did nothing of the sort, Emily Prentiss," I say in a motherly tone, leaving no room for argument.

There is no response as I take in her appearance and reaction to my words.

"You didn't hear it a lot from your mother, did you?"

Again, she doesn't respond.

"I'm sorry for that. I really am. But don't let that get in the way of things now. You've got 6 people who love you for who you are, Em. Let us in."

More tears appear, something in her eyes changes, and I think that maybe some of what I've said has sunk in. Shyly she leans into my embrace, and then all of a sudden her grip on me is tight as I feel her body shudder with pent up emotion.

Through her tears she repeats, "I'm sorry" over and over again, at a volume barely above a whisper.

I rub soothing circles on her back, and let her get her emotions out. It's been a long time coming, and there must be years of emotion to deal with. While we hadn't solved anything, and I hadn't gotten her to talk about those long months, I still feel that the conversation is a success. Maybe, just maybe, I'd convinced a part of her that she's worthy of love.

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