"When the sun has set, no candle can replace it."

At first their relationship had been forged by long nights, tough cases and too much tequila. If the team knew, they never let on. They left before the sun had breached and left with no sign that the other was there, minus their scent on the other's pillows.

Neither were in a place for a relationship, and they knew that with their jobs, relationships were hard to keep. Rossi and Hotcner were the poster children for failed marriages due to their jobs. So what they had, the easiness of it, it was good. Until it wasn't. Neither was suer when it changed, when they changed. Maybe it was when Morgan stayed over and they started to drive to work together. Or maybe it was when Prentiss wore his Chicago Bears jersey to the annual. Redskins game that the team went to every year. Or maybe it was when Morgan went out and ignored every lady that hit on him, preferring to use the time to trade texts with Emily. However and whenever it happened, it happened. They went from easy friends with benefits to a couple without ever acknowledging it.

Then Ian Dolyle happened, or the fallout of Ian Doyle happened. Seven long months he thought that he had lost her. For seven long months he mourned her death harder than the rest of the team, which was saying something considering the fact that Reid had cried in JJ's arms for 10 weeks straight. Seven long months he drank, he worked out, he put himself through his own penance. Had he been able to get there just a few seconds earlier.

Then it happened. Then the dam broke and Hotch and JJ told them the secret. The secret that Emily wasn't dead. He went through every emotion possible in seconds. The anger at his boss and his friend, that they would keep that news away from HIM. The relief, that Emily was still alive. The sadness, that whatever they had was gone. And then the happiness and joy that washed over him finally seeing her. His vision was clouded with tears that he blinked away quickly.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from her. She walked in like nothing had changed, but they all knew that things could never be the same. Their eyes met and she dropped her head.

"Sorry." She whispered, so soft even he had to strain to hear her.

It wasn't until the case was solved that they had some time alone. A few moments before boarding the jet, but still some time alone.

"Derek…"

He turned slowly, his face set and hard.

"Derek, I'm so sorry." She whispered, her voice wavering. "But we couldn't tell anyone…"

He knew why and he didn't fault her for it. If she hadn't - if JJ and Hotch hadn't - Emily would definitely be dead, Swallowing his anger and his pride, Derek walked over and wrapped his arms around her in a gentle hug. He held her against his chest and pressed his lips to the top of her head. "I'm so fucking happy that you're alive." He whispered softly. "I...I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

"Me neither. I couldn't contact anyone, no social media...he would've…".

Derek shook his head and pressed a finger to her lips. "Stop. I get it. You had to stay safe and I'm glad that JJ and Hotch were able to help you in doing that." He held her softly, until the rest of the team arrived and he reluctantly let her go. If he could, he would've held her for the rest of the trip home and for however long she would've let him. But not here, not right now. Things were balanced precariously, not just between them, but between everyone and he knew he couldn't ruin it.

So he would wait.

At least for now, he knew that she was safe.

Sitting across from her in the jet, he couldn't help but smile, listening to the softness of her voice fill the small cabin and her laugh, the tinkling and dancing raindrops, wrap around him. And for the first time in seven months, he felt the weight, the tightness that had wrapped itself around his chest, loosen and lift. He would be alright. He would go home to an empty house tonight, but he would sleep without nightmares. He would sleep without waking up in a cold sweat. He would wake up without the heavy vengeance in heart. He would wake up knowing that Emily Prentiss was alive and right now that's all he needed.

They fell back into an easy rhythm at work, paired together more often than not. Their conversations, full of playful banter, was back as well. It was like she had never left. Almost.

She could feel his eyes on her, but whenever she turned to look he was looking away. He was as protective as ever, perhaps more so. He always took that half step in front of her, just in case.

They fell back into whatever rhythm they had before, though this time it was over rum than over tequila. Emily claimed that tequila gave her a headache, but they both knew it was because of the memory that tequila held for both of them.

She awoke, sore but sated, staring down at his chiseled chest, her fingers trailing over his tattoo with butterfly touches. She thought that she had memorized every tattoo, every little dot of ink that adorned his body, but there was something new. Small. Something that no one would know unless he was topless and you looked close. The name Emily, written in her tight neat script and then 2011. The year she died. Sitting up and pulling the sheet with her, Emily looked down at Derek. He flushed, his skin growing warm and he sat up slowly.

"That's my signature."

"Yeah."

"And the date."

He shrugged. "I thought I lost you and I wanted something to remember you by. You had some papers on your desk that had your signature on it."

Her fingers traced over the new ink on his skin.

"I can get it removed."

"No. Keep it." She didn't elaborate on her feelings about it, but got out of bed and grabbed her underwear and bra that were tossed aside. "I'll see you at work. I'm gonna go home and shower and change my clothes."

Derek arched his eyebrows. "They know. About us. Everyone does."

Emily shrugged and tugged on her clothes. "They might, but at least this doesn't feed into their gossip." She said leaning over and kissing him strongly. "I'll see you at work."

Nodding, Derek watched Emily grab the rest of her clothes, tugging on her jacket. "Hey Em," He called out, watching as she turned slowly.

"Yeah?"

The words were heavy on his tongue and he gave her the cocky smile she was so used to, and loved seeing.

"My turn to grab coffee for the teams. Anything special?" He asked nonchalantly, covering up the comment he really wanted to say.

"Just my usual."

"Black, with a sticky bun." Derek repeated watching as Emily gathered her things.

"I'll see you at work, Derek."

"Yeah." He said as he slowly got to his feet. "See you later, Em." Derek got up and headed for the shower. His fingers ran over the tattoo, the ink embedded in his skin. Her name, permanently etched on his body, on his soul. It was one of the few things that he thought he could do to memorialize the woman he loved.

Loved. He knew that he loved her. He knew that he wanted her to be a permanent part of his life, but he didn't know how. He had the words, but he didn't want her to jump. He knew, better than anyone, that their fight or flight response was higher than most people's. There were three options in this scenario. She ran. Like ran ran. Ran for the hills and their partnership and friendship would be fractured and never be the same again. One of them would have to transfer units and break up the team. The second would be that she would just say no, or argue, or laugh. His ego would be crushed and the same thing would happen; their friendship would never be the same, their partnership would never be the same, and the team would break up. Or, she could say that she loved him too. That, he didn't know the outcome of.

Sighing, he finished up with his shower and tugged on clean clothes, running his hand to flatten the cotton long sleeved he wore. It took him less than 5 minutes to get ready. Brush his teeth, shave, put on deodorant and then slide his feet into his shoes. It always amazed him how long it took Emily to get ready. With other women it took, sometimes hours, to get ready. With Emily, she almost kept pace with him, and yet she looked so so gorgeous. He shook his head and grabbed his keys before heading out the door.

Some things never changed.

Some things you got written on your skin.