Title: Elysium
Criminal Minds
They thought that it was only going to be one night. They were wrong. An unexpected pregnancy leads Emily and Derek to reevaluate their lives.
Author's Notes: At the moment, this story is about 75% done, but not all in the right order. I am posting the prologue now to gauge the reaction, and there will be further posting between now and Christmas. Please tell me your thoughts, if only to motivate me to finish the rest of it. I could not have done this without the epic betaing of Windy City Dreamer, Arwen Lalaith and Yellow Smurf. You have my eternal thanks.


Mid May, 2010

The flight back to Quantico seemed to take an eternity.

Emily knew that if she were to ask Reid, he could probably give her the average flight time from Tacoma down to the millisecond, but he was currently engaged in a card game with a somewhat disinterested JJ. The case hadn't been a particularly happy one – none of their cases were, really – and they were all just that little bit distant.

'You alright?' Morgan asked, as he slid into the seat opposite. Emily stared at him. There was a book lying open in front of her, but she hadn't even tried looking at the words, knowing that her mind would probably just drift off before she got a sentence in.

That was the problem with the flight home; Emily was tired and frustrated, and all she really wanted to do was sink into a bubble bath with a half glass of red wine, and let her muscles soak, but instead she had to deal with four hours of keeping her guard up around a group of people that were trained to notice behavior.

It was little comfort to know that they were all in the same boat.

Sure, Hotch probably wouldn't go for the bubble bath, and Rossi would choose Glenfiddich over Merlot, but the principle was the same.

'Same old, you know?' Emily shrugged, letting the book snap shut. 'We catch a bad guy, but there's another one ready to take his place.'

'That feeling never changes.'

'I know.' She gave him a grim smile. 'Sometimes it just feels like we keep switching sides. What was it you said – knocking down walls, or tackling unsubs makes you feel like you're changing something?'

'Could have been,' he replied, with a look of surprise on his face. 'You remember everything I say?'

'Just the stuff that makes sense.'

He gave a laugh at that. 'I'm wounded, Prentiss.'

'I guess your ego is a little too easily damaged.'

There was a long, awkward, but not quite awkward silence; the kind where you had run out of things to say, but at the same time, not quite sure that anything actually needed to be said.

'So what's your mark on the world?' Derek asked finally, and Emily found herself raising an eyebrow.

'What do you mean?'

'What do you do, apart from kicking ass and going on secret Atlantic City sin fests and watching cheesy action movies on Friday nights?'

'Maybe that's all I do,' she told him, but part of her was thinking, "You've known me for over three years and you're asking now?" A completely different part of her was thinking, "Shit, maybe that is all I do." But it wasn't entirely accurate. She did watch cheesy action movies on Friday nights – many of which Morgan had joined her for – and the Atlantic City sin fests were only an annual occasion.

She read, of course. Not as much as Reid, but enough that she could safely classify herself as a nerd.

'Seriously?' he asked, a little bit incredulous.

Emily wrinkled her brow. 'I think I took a pottery class once. Made a vase.'

He shook his head. 'That's it. This weekend, I'm taking you to one of my houses and you can help me knock down walls.'

'I can't.' The immediacy of her refusal seemed to upset him, so she attempted to clarify. 'It's not that I'm not interested.' She bit her lip, not entirely sure how to put it. Whatever words she chose felt like a brush-off. 'It's just…it's been a long week, and I'm tired, and I really can't face anything more energetic than lying in bed watching TV.'

'Alright then,' he said with a grin, but Emily detected the disappointment that was bubbling just below the surface.

'How about a raincheck?' she asked, because she wasn't against the idea. The words seemed to alleviate the situation a little, though she still wondered why he was so intent on getting her to help him knock down walls.

Maybe he —?

She cut off the thought before it could go any further. Derek Morgan might have been a player, but guys like him weren't interested in women like Emily. Once upon a time, she might have considered it, but that time was long since past.

Maybe in another universe.

He gave her a smile, and slipped on those ridiculous, oversized headphones that no doubt blocked out the rest of the world. Now that was an idea.

She dug around in her bag until she found her iPod, and opened one of the less intense playlists. Her mind couldn't handle anything too heavy, and light music required far less attention than reading. It wasn't long before she managed to drift off to sleep.

Home seemed far too far away. It would be so nice to just go straight from the airstrip to D.C., but her Prius was in the parking garage at Quantico, along with a few other things that she needed to pick up for the weekend. The writing of her report would no doubt take up the parts of her weekend that weren't devoted to bubble baths or ice-cream.

It was that time of day where traffic was at its peak, and driving home seemed to take so much longer than forty-five minutes. By the time she'd turned the key in the lock and set her go-bag down by the door, the sun had well and truly set, and she could see the bright lights of the District through the wide, glass window.

It was a beautiful view, but Emily had grown used to it; too many times to count, she'd gotten in after dark, exhausted to the bone. It never changed. In the winter, sometimes, there was snow – or a miserable, cold damp that makes it very difficult to get in the Christmas spirit. On the whole, Emily preferred summer rain – the kind of rain that made it feel like the world was being washed clean.

If only it were that simple.

It had been several hours since Emily's last meal, but she wasn't particularly hungry; the day's events had left her feeling a little nauseous, and she figured it would probably be better to let her stomach settle before even beginning to think about food.

One ridiculously long, ridiculously hot bath and half a tub of Rocky Road ice-cream later, Emily was sitting on the edge of her bed in sweat pants and a tank top, towel-drying her hair.

The doorbell rang.

It wasn't particularly late, but then, Emily didn't really ever have people visiting her at any time of day. Today, though, she was pretty sure she knew who it was going to be. Derek Morgan was many things, but unpredictable wasn't one of them.

Sure enough, Emily opened the door to find him standing there with a six-pack of Heineken and a couple of pizza boxes. 'I'm not interrupting anything, am I?'

Emily raised an eyebrow. 'What would you do if I said yes?'

'Well for one thing, I'd be pretty hurt that you felt like you had to lie to me.'

She laughed.


She took the boxes off his hand, lifting the top one just slightly. 'Pepperoni and cheese. Derek Morgan, you are a god amongst men.'

He grinned. 'I figured we could save the Chicago pizza for another night.'

Setting the boxes on the breakfast counter, she knelt down to find some clean plates in the cupboard. Considering the fact that she'd only just come home, they were all clean. That was one advantage, if it could really be called that, of being away so often. Less dishes.

'I'm kind of curious,' she said, giving him a look as he opened the pizza boxes and dished out a slice onto his plate. 'How exactly is pizza and beer supposed to help me make a mark on the world?'

'It's not,' he admitted. 'But you said that your weekend was going to be spent watching TV, and I know from experience that TV is improved by the presence of pizza and beer.'

'Well who am I to deny the Derek Morgan experience?' She flushed bright almost immediately, realizing what she'd just said.

He tipped her a wink. 'All you have to do is ask, Princess.'

Perhaps, Emily thought to herself. Perhaps it was time for a change of subject.

'So what do you want to watch?' she asked, gesturing towards her modest DVD collection. It was mostly sci-fi and drama, with the occasional smattering of cheesy action or romance or comedy. Emily Prentiss had been brought up on variety.

'You pick,' he said.

Emily raised an eyebrow. Derek Morgan did not give up control easily, whether it was control over an unsub, or control over the DVD player.

'You trust me to make a good choice?'

'Well,' he said. 'I figure if you're a Vonnegut fan, then your taste can't be that terrible.'

She let out a laugh. 'Just for that, I should make you watch Plan 9.' It was way too much of a nerd thing, even for Morgan. No, what he needed was something with equal amounts action and nerdery. Like Star Wars, only something where he hadn't heard Reid nitpick over the specifics of the Kessel Run six times a week.

'You like Tolkien?' she ventured. The Lord of the Rings wasn't quite Slaughterhouse-Five, but it was a modern classic, and she figured that maybe he'd read them too.

'Sure,' he nodded. 'Read the books when I was a kid. Saw the movies with my mom and Des when they came out.'

'Not Sarah?'

'Nah.' He shook his head. 'She was never much of a fantasy fan.'

The settled down on the sofa with beer and pizza, just inches between them. It wasn't the most romantic of movies, but Emily was still hyperaware of the fact that the distance grew shorter as time went on. His thigh brushed hers, and she felt a confusing heat building in the pit of her stomach.

It had been a long time since she'd last had sex – even longer since her last long-term relationship. Going into the BAU she'd known that there wouldn't be that much time for a social life, but somehow that knowledge hadn't prepared her for the late nights spent alone staring into nothingness. At this point, she would have even welcomed a one-night-stand.

Morgan seemed to sense her discomfort, for lack of a better word, because he turned, a concerned look on his face. 'Everything okay?'

'Yeah,' she nodded. 'Just a little tense.'

'No kidding,' he laughed. He put a hand on her shoulder. 'Relax, Prentiss. I'm not going to bite.'

I kind of wish you would.

She crossed her arm over her chest, letting her hand rest on his.


Emily bit her lip. She'd never been a good liar, but right now, she wasn't entirely sure that honesty was the best course of action. Hey Morgan, I have a ridiculous urge to jump your bones, so you should really take off your pants right now.

He might have been a player, but she didn't think that he'd respond favorably to that request. But even profilers were wrong sometimes.

She turned to face him, her hand squeezing his.

'It's been a long week,' he said.

'I know.' Emily nodded.

'Hell, Prentiss, I've wanted to do this for four freaking years.' The revelation surprised Emily – he'd shown some level of interest right after she'd joined the team, but she assumed that his interest had just…faded. To know that it hadn't, to know that he'd harbored some kind of secret crush all this time. Well, she wasn't quite sure how to feel about that.

'We can't…' she started, words caught in her throat. The words she so desperately didn't want to say. Maybe it wasn't a crush at all. Maybe it was just a mutual physical attraction that would disappear the moment they shared one moment of unity.

She took his hand and moved it down from her shoulder to rest on her right breast. The act seemed to spark the proactive, womanizing Morgan that she knew. He caressed her through the material of her tank top, before snaking his other arm around her waist, and pulling her towards him.

The first kiss was slow and soft. The second kiss was harder, more passionate, as their need for intimacy built up.

'Wait.' Emily pulled away, wincing at the hurt look on his face. 'No, I just want to…' She grabbed for the remote control, and turned off the TV.

Morgan's fingers curled around the bottom of the tank top, hesitating, it seemed, out of a desire for permission, rather than any lingering concerns. She gave him a slight nod, and he pushed the singlet up over her head. His hand brushed against bare skin, and she was suddenly hyperaware of the hardness that pressed into her thigh. Emily shifted slightly, so that his erection pressed against the crotch of her pants. Morgan let out a groan, the sensation cascading through her.

He let his wide hands cup her breasts, thumbs rubbing her nipples until they were hard. 'Oh, God, Derek,' she murmured. It had been way too long. His hands wandered though, and she sucked in a deep breath as they moved lower, to the waistband of her sweatpants.

'Wait,' she said again. 'Wait.'

He looked up at her, concerned, and just a little bit disappointed. 'What's wrong?'

'Well, if you take my pants off, then I'll be sitting here practically naked, and you're still fully clothed.'

He raised an eyebrow. 'Okay.' He went to pull the shirt over his head, but Emily swatted his hands away.

'My turn.' She ran her hands underneath his shirt, feeling the hardness of his muscles, the smoothness of his skin. Three years ago, she laughed at the thought of him doing a thousand sit-ups a day. Now, it seemed so damn worth it, it wasn't funny.

Thanks to the nature of the job, and the close quarters they shared day after day, she'd seen him shirtless before, but as it turned out, context was very important. She imagined leaning up against those perfectly sculpted pectorals as he moved inside of her. She wondered if it was possible to climax just thinking about it.

And to think, she hadn't even seen his ass yet.

On that thought, he turned them, so that he was hovering over her. It was an almost crushing feeling, and yet there was probably no-one in the world that she trusted more to have this kind of control over her. Maybe Hotch, or Rossi, or Reid, but it felt really, really weird to think about them in this kind of situation.

No. It was always going to be Derek Morgan.

He brushed her hair out of her eyes, fingers caressing her cheek. This was more than just sex. Even if it only happened once, there was a connection, a sense of affection that had never been there in the one-night stands of previous years. In many ways, she was upset, knowing that it couldn't go any further.

That was the job for you.

Maybe it was a thing that could have worked, but she didn't want to transfer to find out. In any case, she was pretty sure that Morgan was still very much in the "short-term relationships" phase of his life.

'Do you want to take this upstairs?' she murmured, as he pressed kisses down her chest. It was kind of hard to murmur effectively when you were getting short of breath so quickly. 'The sofa's fine, but…' There were a lot of reasons why she felt like they should take it upstairs. The bed is more comfortable, the bed is more romantic, the bed is better for endurance sessions. In the end, she settled on, 'The condoms are upstairs.'

Morgan grinned. 'Fair enough.' He pulled away from her, and she wanted nothing more than to just say, fuck the condoms, fuck the bed, and fuck Derek Morgan, the last one literally. But no. Rome had ensured that she would never do something like that again. Even if she was a long way away from fifteen now, it was a lesson that was burnt into her brain, as though she might fall into the pits of hell itself if she were to ignore it.

You don't just have issues, she told herself. You have a whole fucking subscription.

The journey from living room to bedroom seemed to take far longer than any flight ever had. It felt like years later when Morgan nudged her backwards onto the bed, shucking his pants as he went. He wore navy boxer-briefs that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

My god, he is packing a fucking missile launcher. There were a ridiculous amount of puns that could be made from the description, but Emily was far too busy to care about them.

Then the boxer-briefs disappeared, too, and she found herself staring at something that was most definitely a lot bigger than Morgan's ego.

'Uh,' she started, and he gave her a wide grin. Okay, so maybe not as big as his ego. The bed shifted softly as he dropped down onto it, kneeing his way towards her. She was lying against the headboard, as he straddled her, hands cupping her ass. His thumbs started to work down the elastic of her pants, while his lips pressed into the skin of her stomach.

'The day you spilt coffee over yourself,' he started, interspersing his words with kisses. 'And told me how much of a nerd you were…That was the day I first wanted to kiss you. Right there in the kitchenette.'

'You should have,' Emily breathed. 'I'm pretty sure I was sending off some pretty blatant signals.' He lowered her panties just slightly, his lips pressing into the dark curls.

'I know,' he admitted. 'I thought…' He kissed her again. 'I was pretty sure there was no way you'd be interested in me, and I didn't want to ruin what we had.' She lifted her hips as he pulled her panties down.

She jerked backwards as his tongue hit her clit; even though she was watching him, the first, warm touch had come as a surprise. He had a long tongue, and he knew how to use it. It wasn't just his tongue: he used his lips and his teeth as well. While most other men she'd dated had resorted to using their fingers to help bring her off, Morgan managed to do it with just his mouth.

Fingers curled around the headboard, she gave a loud gasp as she climaxed. There was a beat of silence, and then:

'Condoms?' Morgan asked. Still somewhat out of breath, Emily choked out a laugh and gestured towards the nightstand. He either didn't notice, or didn't want to draw attention to the other contents of the drawer, some of which hadn't been used in a very long time, and some of which were used on a weekly basis.

Morgan tore the packet, and rolled the rubber sheath over his erection. Should've gotten the Magnums, Emily thought. He moved over her, the head of his cock brushing her thigh. He edged in slowly, and even with the natural lubrication that her body had provided, it was a tight fit.

'Just…push in,' she said, through gritted teeth, and he did, hard and fast. Emily let out a strangled gasp, and clutched at Morgan's shoulders.

He stopped, concern creasing his brow. 'Did I hurt you?'

Emily could have laughed. 'It's a good kind of hurt,' she murmured. It felt as though he was filling a hole that had been empty, for so long. Maybe she would have had the same feeling had it been anyone else. Maybe not.

She focused her attention on the thin line of sweat that formed on Morgan's brow as he moved in and out of her, each thrust sparking pleasure and pain within her. His finger snaked down to rub her clit, and she came again. Any stamina she might have had in the past seemed to be have disappeared at Morgan's touch.

She came again, just moments before he did, both of them breathing hard. 'Oh. Wow,' was all she could manage. Morgan rolled off the top of her, grinning.

'Is that a compliment, princess?'

'Considering the last guy I slept with struggled to get me off even once, yeah, it is.'

He didn't respond to that straight away. 'You deserve better than that,' he said eventually.

'What, you mean someone like you?' she challenged him. The awkward silence was answer enough. 'It's okay, Derek. I'm not under any delusions. It was nice, but…I know it can't happen again.'

'It was nice,' he agreed, with a grin. She gave him a playful slap.

He didn't seem all that interested in leaving, and really, Emily didn't want him to, either. She curled into his warmth, relishing the feeling of being held for the first time in so long.

In the morning he made pancakes, and they talked about silly, pointless things, and it was almost as though nothing had changed.

Things couldn't have been further from the truth.