This one is a continuation of chapter 95... We get a peek into the discussion between Emily and Derek about her injury.

Happy reading =)

"Only man clogs his happiness with care, destroying what is with thoughts of what may be." – John Dryden

"Daddy, is it ready?"

I blink and look down toward Matthew, his voice having broken my train of thought. "Almost, little man. How's that picture coming along for your sister?"

"Done," he says with a wide smile as he holds up the page of paper he'd been focusing on intently for the last twenty minutes. My eyes take in the wild shapes and colours. "I drawed Mama, and Daddy, and Campbell, and me, and Tegan."

"Oh yeah? And you fit it all onto just one page" I say, trying my best to sound enthusiastic, but failing miserably. Emily coming home with another injury has darkened my mood significantly.

"Of course," he replies as though it's the most obvious thing in the world.

I hear a creak on the stairs and turn to find Emily making her way into the kitchen. "How's she doing?" I ask, trying to keep my tone neutral. Tegan's cries for her mother from earlier and the memories of Emily's past injuries are making it exceedingly difficult.

Her eyes narrow for the briefest of seconds and I know instantly my act isn't fooling her, but then she's always been able to read me. She shakes her head sadly. "Has she eaten anything?"

"No," I snap, feeling my frustration bubbling over. "Hence the chicken soup."

"Sorry," she replies, her eyes wide due to my outburst. "Can I take some up for her? I promised I'd sit with her while she ate."

"So we're letting her eat in bed now?"

"She's sick," she says pointedly, her eyes flaring with anger. "And I'd rather not get the entire family sick at the same time."

"Little late for that, don't you think?"

"Is it ready or not?"

"Yeah," I huff.

"Daddy, we eat now?" Matthew asks uncertainly, the worry plain to see in his eyes as he shifts on his feet by the kitchen table.

I let out a sigh, the frustration ebbing away instantly when I see my son's face. In its place I feel guilt spreading. How much of that did he witness? I turn back to the stove and pour some soup into a mug for Emily to take up to Tegan. "Yeah, little man, time for dinner. Up in your chair please."

"Wait! Have to give picture to Mama," Matthew says as he scrambles over to Emily and hands her the piece of paper.

She smiles and tousles his hair after tucking the picture under her arm. "Looks great, Matty. I'm sure she'll love it."

Matthew grins widely and then skips over to the kitchen table and climbs up onto his chair. I turn back to Em and hand her a mug of soup.

She offers a grateful smile as she takes it from me. "I'll see if I can get her to eat some."

I nod and then watch as she makes her way up the stairs. I let out another frustrated sigh before preparing a bowl for myself, and a smaller bowl for Matthew. This is going to be a long night.

I pull back the covers on the bed and slide in, keeping my attention focused on the bathroom, where Emily's still finishing brushing her teeth. She comes back out a couple minutes later and I watch her as she carefully slides the sling off, slipping her arm out and trying her best to hide a wince. She pulls off her shirt and it's then that I see the extent of her injury. There's a map of bruises on her shoulder, part of her back, and a good part of her arm, all in varying colours. Whatever happened, she must have taken a nasty hit for it to result in that kind of bruising.

She pulls a button up top from the drawer and gingerly maneuvers her arm into the sleeve before shrugging the rest of it on, and deftly doing up the buttons one-handed.

"Are you gonna tell me what happened?" I ask when she turns around and finds my gaze on her.

She slides her arm back into the sling carefully and makes her way over to the bed. "Takedown went bad. Unsub tried to run for it and shoved me down some stairs on his way out of the house."

"You fell down stairs?" I say, my eyebrows rising in shock. When she left the BAU I thought she'd be safer. I thought I wouldn't have to worry about her being hit in the head by 2x4s, or beaten to a pulp by sect leaders. But it seems like she's coming home from every case more battered and bruised every time. Maybe it was time I had a chat with Cooper.

"I was pushed down stairs," she corrects. Her posture is nonchalant, as though the whole ordeal is not significant, and perhaps that's what is most frustrating about all of this. "I kept my footing for most of the way down, actually. But eventually the momentum overpowered me and I hit the bottom at an awkward angle, right on my shoulder. Doctor said it's just a second-degree shoulder sprain, nothing major."

"A shoulder sprain is nothing major?" I say incredulously. This woman takes ridiculous to new levels sometimes.

"It's not," she says, her brow furrowing and her head shaking slowly. "I have to use the sling for a couple of weeks, and after that it's just rest. I'll be fine in a month or so."

"Emily, this is getting to be a bit ridiculous," I say honestly.

"What is?" she says, her movements to pull back the covers halting at my words.

"You getting injured on cases."

"I'm not getting injured any more than you are," she replies, her tone clipped, telling me her anger is rising too.

"I'd say you are. First it was the shot into the shoulder, then it was the sprained ankle, then it was the concussion, and now it's the sprained shoulder. Either you've turned into a klutz, or you're taking way too many risks."

"Whoa, hold on, Derek. What exactly are you saying?" she asks, dropping the sheets from her hand.

"I'm saying," I reply as I sit up and face her, "that you need to be a little more careful, and little less impulsive. You're a mother, you know."

Her eyes flare with that anger once more, and I see her jaw tense. "I'm well aware," she grinds out.

"Then act like it," I say, matching her glare with one of my own.

"Are you saying I'm a bad mother?"

"Don't put words in my mouth," I say as I throw the covers back and stand up.

"Answer the question," she demands.

"No matter what I say, you're going to throw it back at me," I say, throwing my hands up in frustration as I make my way around the bed.

"You're avoiding the question. So that's it, is it? I'm a bad mother because I have a job that's occasionally a bit dangerous?"

"You're putting words in my mouth," I stubbornly repeat my earlier sentiment, my voice raising.

"Because you're not answering me," she says, her voice low and beginning to take on that dangerous tone I haven't heard in many months.

"I thought you knew me better than that."

"And I thought you knew me better than what you're accusing me of," she spits back quickly as she steps around me and walks toward my side of the bed. "I love my children more than anything."

"I know you love th-"

"So what is it that you're driving at then?" she asks, whipping around so quickly that her hair swings in front of her face.

"I'm trying to understand why my wife – the mother of my children – thinks it's okay to put herself in a position where she can be pushed down stairs, or shot at, or beaten senseless by an unsub."

Her eyes darken and I know immediately I crossed a line I shouldn't have. Mama was right, I really should learn to control my temper.

"So it's okay for you to do that day in and day out, but I can't because I'm a mother?"

I blink repeatedly as her words hit me like a freight train. "I-"

And then with fierce eyes and her face taut with anger, she says the words I never expected to hear. "Get out."

"Wh- What?" I stutter, surprised by her words. We're both incredibly stubborn, so we've had our share of fights over the years, but she'd never kicked me out before.

"Get. Out."

"Em," I implore. This isn't good. Going to bed angry is never good. We can fix this. We should fix this.

Her reply is to throw my pillow at me and then glare.

"Em," I try once more. "C'mon. You know I didn't mean it that way."

Her composure seems to snap all of a sudden and her voice raises. "What way did you mean it then, Derek? Because I'm getting your message loud and clear. It's okay for you to do the thing that makes you who you are, but I lost that right when I had kids."

"That's not-"

"Just go," she says, interrupting my reply.

I hold her gaze for a few silent moments before I let out a sigh and slowly make my way to the door. This is really not good.

I drop my pillow in the hall outside Matthew's room and peek my head in, checking on him. I find him curled up and fast asleep. I smile as I spy his blankets in a bunch by his feet. As a baby he had almost always kicked off his blankets in his sleep, and that habit had continued as the years passed. I close the door part way and make my way to Tegan's room. I push the door open and find Tegan awake, with fat tears falling down her face. I step toward her quickly, surprised I hadn't heard her earlier.

"What is it, Tee?"

"Mama," she cries, more tears falling.

"Hey, it's okay, little princess. Daddy's here."

"Tummy hurts," she moans. "I want Mama."

"What do you need? I can get it for you."

Her lower lip trembles and her eyes squeeze shut as more tears escape. "Mama," she cries, much louder this time.

I blink in shock at the volume of her cries – she's always been a quiet kid, so for her to be so loud means she's really not feeling good. I open my mouth to try and comfort her, but am interrupted by Emily entering the room.

"I'm here, Boo."

"I not feel good," she cries, holding her arms out toward Emily.

"I know, baby," Emily soothes, pulling Tegan onto her lap, wincing as she grips her injured shoulder tightly. "I know."

I watch helplessly as Emily holds our daughter tightly, having difficulty quieting her cries. "Derek, she's really warm," Emily says, looking toward me, slight worry in her eyes.

"I'll get a wet cloth," I say, getting up from the bed and heading toward the bathroom quickly. I grab a cloth and soak it in water before wringing it out and heading back to Tegan's room. The two of them are now on the rocking chair in the corner, Tegan still clinging tightly to her mother. "Here," I say, handing the cloth to Emily.

"Uh, could you," she says, looking down at Tegan, "my arm is, uh, a little out of commission."

"Oh, right," I say awkwardly. I lean forward and hold the cloth to Tegan's forehead for a moment before beginning to move it gently.

Tegan lets out a light sigh and leans into the cloth, but shifts in Emily's lap and tightens her hold, earning another wince from Emily.

Eventually, after waiting for the drugs to kick in, and repeating the process of applying the cool cloth, Tegan falls into a somewhat fitful slumber. Once Tegan had fallen asleep, Emily had followed not long after, finally able to relax. Knowing that both my girls would be more comfortable sleeping in a bed, I decide to move Tegan. But as soon as I begin to pull her off of Emily's lap, Emily's arm tightens around her and she whispers a sleepy "no".

"Em, it's all right. It's just me," I say softly. My voice seems to do the trick, and she loosens her hold, her face relaxing as well. I gather Tegan into my arms and gently place her in her bed, making sure to pull the sheet up and over her. I press a kiss to her forehead and am pleased to find her temperature has dropped.

I turn my attention back to Emily and frown as I try to figure out if there's a way to pick her up without hurting her. Unfortunately I can't think of a way, and so I gently rouse her from her sleep.

"Em," I whisper. "Em, c'mon, let's get you to bed."

"Hmm?" she murmurs sleepily, her eyes heavy-lidded.

"C'mon," I say, offering her an arm and helping her up. As I lead her toward our bedroom, my words from earlier come back to haunt me. I never meant that she was a bad mother. The thought never even crossed my mind. She would do anything for our children – that much I know for certain. And yet, somehow I'd let my stubbornness get the better of me. "I'm sorry, Em," I say once she's back in bed.

She frowns, but I know she won't remember the apology, she's already asleep.

I hear a groan and turn to find Emily twisted in the sheets, slowly blinking as she wakes up. She frowns in confusion when she sees me. "I thought I kicked you out."

I smile sheepishly. "You did, but then we were up so long with Tegan, and I brought you back here and then I woke up."

"Derek," she says, bringing her hand up to massage the bridge of her nose. "What you said…it wasn't fair."

"I know."

"I don't think you do," she replies. "I do my job because it's a part of who I am, just as chasing unsubs is a part of who you are. It hurt to hear my husband tell me that I shouldn't be doing that anymore because I'm a mother. I would neverask you to give that up."

"I know, Em. I was just upset that you're injured again. You can't tell me that you haven't noticed how often you're coming home with bumps and bruises."

"No more than when I was in the BAU full time," she counters.

"That's the point," I say sadly, letting out a heavy sigh. "You're not there full time anymore. And it was your decision to leave, and I respect the hell out of you for knowing when you had to step away, but you're getting sucked back in in a bad way."

"You knew how important my job was to me when we started dating."

"Of course I did. I was your partner for years."

"That's my point," she says. "This shouldn't be a surprise to you."

I let out a long, heavy sigh. "I just thought you'd be a little more careful when Matty and Tee came into the picture."

"Have you?"

I stay quiet as her words sink in. Have I been more careful since they were born? I think back to the cases that I've worked in the past few years. Hotch has hauled me into his office a few times for not waiting for backup, sure, but not more than usual. I'd had a few injuries as well, but nothing too serious.

My thoughts drift once more to my father – shot and killed while trying to stop a robbery. He had still taken those risks, despite me and my sisters. I'm not angry with him for the choices he made to put himself in danger – he did it to make the world a safer place for us to live in. My reasoning for still taking those risks is the same. Like father like son. Just as Dad hadn't stopped being a cop and helping people after my sisters and I were born, I hadn't stopped being an agent after Tegan and Matthew were born.

"Did you expect I'd change so drastically after having kids?"

I open my mouth to answer, but find my mind lingering on her question. Did I? I knew going in we'd both change, but had I expected her to just want to stay home with the kids and fulfill that housewife role? I shake my head minutely in answer to my own thoughts. I had never assumed that. Though that's not to say she isn't dedicated to this family, because she is.

"Well?" she says when I don't answer.

I shake my head. "No."

"Then why are you expecting me to now?"

"I'm not," I answer honestly. "I just got flustered with Tegan being sick, and you being injured."

Her gaze narrows as she scrutinizes me. "That's no excuse."

"I know," I say sadly.

She lets out a sigh and we both escape into our own heads. After a few moments, she breaks the silence with an uncharacteristically unsure tone. "So you don't think I'm a bad mother for putting myself in these situations?"

"God, no," I say quickly, hating that I'd shaken her belief. "I know you're an amazing mother, Em. You'd do anything for our kids, I know that. I just wish you'd be more careful. I don't envy the thought of Cooper having to tell me my wife's been killed. I don't want to have to explain to our kids why Mama isn't around anymore."

"I don't want that either," she insists. "And I also don't want to have to explain to our kids why Daddy isn't around anymore."

Point taken. I smile and reach out a hand to caress her cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too," she says with a sleepy smile.

"Does this mean you forgive me?"

"Nope."

"No?" I say in surprise.

"Not yet."

"Yet?"

"You've got some groveling to do, mister."

"I do?"

"Oh, yes. But first, you should go check on Tegan. I'm worried about her fever."

"She'll be fine, Em. Don't worry so much."

"Can't help it, I'm a mother, as you so eloquently pointed out last night."

I wince at her words even though there's no venom in them. "I'm sorry," I say, realizing I hadn't said it to her yet.

She smiles. "Go check on Tegan, we'll talk when you get back."

I get up and out of bed, my muscles protesting with every moment. Slowly, I make my way out of the room, while thinking how thankful I am that I hadn't screwed things up with Emily permanently. She's right – it wasn't fair of me to throw her job in her face like that, and I certainly can't fault her for being upset. I know I wouldn't have handled her surprising me with that same accusation as graciously as she had. So it seems I've got a lot of groveling to do – and that starts with, I think, with making her breakfast, and letting her spend the day relaxing. God knows she's earned it.

So...wince at their argument? Sigh in relief when they made up? Feel bad for poor Tegan? Let me know!

And an FYI - updates might be a bit sporadic the next little while, but rest assured I'm not disappearing on you.