When Derek unlocked the door to his apartment upon arriving home from driving the priest to the airport to be deported, he wasn't expecting Emily to fall into his arms the moment he'd shut the door behind him. Nonetheless, though, he folded her into his embrace and just held her as she broke down and sobbed.
When her sobs eventually subsided, she spoke – voice muffled by his chest – "Are you mad at me?"
"Mad at you?" he said incredulously. "Princess, I'm proud of you."
She pulled back slightly to look up at him, searching for something in the depths of his gaze. "Really?" she whispered.
He gently tipped her chin up a little further so that he could drop a kiss to her lips. "I'm always proud of you," he said, "But especially now. You trusted your instincts, you pushed until someone listened, and you stopped that priest from hurting anyone else."
She attempted a smile, but it was weak and watery.
"I'm sorry," he added quietly, "For...well...everything."
She shook her head. "Don't be. You were just trying to protect me. I know that."
With a soft smile, he stroked his thumb along her cheekbone, brushing away an errant tear. "Why don't we go to bed?" he suggested, then quickly added, "Just sleep, no funny business. Things will look better in the morning."
Emily rolled over in bed, nuzzled into Derek's neck and attempted to once again fall asleep.
Smiling to himself upon feeling the warm puffs of her breath against his skin, he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer into his body. When he did, though, his hand came away sticky... "Em," he mumbled around a yawn, "I think you started your period in the night."
She groaned, resigning herself to the fact that she likely wouldn't be getting back to sleep any time soon, and rolled over to climb out of bed...but she paused before she could get that far. "D-Derek?" she stammered.
"Wha'sgoin'on?" he slurred without bothering to open his eyes.
She shook him urgently. "Derek, wake up," she said, voice quavering.
"Em, I..." he started, slowly sitting up, the end of his sentence dying in his throat upon catching sight of the rather massive blood stain on the sheets. His gaze shot up to meet hers, eyes wide in alarm. "Em? Em, are you...okay?"
She shook her head, once, twice. "I'm scared," she whispered, gaze never leaving his. "Hold my hand?"
Emily couldn't have said how long they'd sat in silence in the exam room while they waited for blood test results to come back. If she'd had the presence of mind to dwell on the circumstances, she might've realized that this was likely the first moment of real vulnerability they'd shared. Sure, there was something to be said for the vulnerability of putting your trust – your life – in your partner's hand...but this was different.
If she were being honest with herself, this may have been the most honest display of intimacy between them. They'd been sleeping together for well over a year by that point, but they both tended towards keeping up walls, keeping others at arm's length for the sake of not getting hurt. They may have been having sex, but this was the first time they were seeing each other for what they both really were: namely, flawed human beings.
She lifted her head slightly from where she'd had her forehead leaned against his chest while he tenderly stroked her hair, so she could study him for a moment. Feeling her shift in his embrace, his gaze dropped to hers, searching for some sign of distress on her face. For several long moments, neither of them said anything, merely searching in silence for...something they either couldn't or wouldn't name.
Derek was the one to break the silence, murmuring a quiet, "You know I love you, right?" She'd heard him say those words to Garcia before and had never for a moment doubted that he genuinely loved her, in their weird, flirty, totally platonic way. But she'd never heard him say those words to her. And yet, just as she'd never doubted his love for Penelope, she knew he really and truly meant it when he said it to her too.
She attempted a smile, but knew just how hollow it looked. She opened her mouth to say it back – once, twice, she tried, but couldn't seem to make the words form on her tongue. Instead, she said, "You're a good guy." She'd said exactly that years earlier and as much as she'd meant it then, she didn't know at the time just how true the sentiment really was. She hoped that was enough.
For his part, he seemed to understand perfectly. He leaned in to drop a kiss to her forehead, saying a lot of things with the simple gesture that he knew she, for whatever reason, simply wasn't in a place to hear just then. He hoped that was enough
There was a knock on the door, then, before the attending physician poked his head into the room. "Ms. Prentiss?" he said.
Emily's attention was instantly drawn away from the pseudo-tender moment before they could draw any nearer to the precipice that was genuine human connection. Her gaze flicked from the doctor to Derek and back, already feeling the tears pooling against her will. She'd been doing her best to keep a tight reign over her emotions, but could feel the grip quickly slipping.
"I'm afraid you're having a miscarriage," the doctor said, straight to the point. "I'm sorry. Treatment protocol is to send you home and, should the bleeding become heavier or..." She stopped listening then. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered in that moment.
In spite of a childhood spent hiding every uncomfortable emotion and indecorous reaction, she felt herself retching and knew that, in spite of her stomach being empty, she was going to vomit. It was only a matter of whether she could make it to a trash can in time... And then, she was kneeling on the cold linoleum floor, hunched over the garbage, her entire body wracked with sobs and dry heaves.
And then, there was silence. For a long time.