𝐈 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝, 𝐈 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡
ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ
𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗮𝘂

𝐃𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐤 sits with Noah in the kitchenette while Penelope makes some hot tea. It's going to be a long night—longer than any of them are expecting. With Ian in custody, there's only so much time that they have until someone comes to take him to prison, which could delay their investigation to find out what happened to Declan.

"This is good," Derek says.

"I know," Noah mumbles as she stares at the table.

"What's going on?" he asks.

Noah shrugs, not sure how to put it into words. "I don't know. I guess...yeah, I'm happy you found him and I don't have to worry as much about him coming after me, but at the same time, he's my father and he's going to prison."

"Damn right he's going to prison," Derek mutters.

Penelope hits his arm as she gently places the warm mug in front of Noah and sits beside her.

"What?" Derek asks. "I don't have any sympathy for the bastard. He's a killer, and he's not your father."

"Unfortunately, he is," Noah snaps.

"But he's not your dad," Derek reminds her. "He's not the man who raised you or the one you look up to. He's not the someone who taught you how to get back up when you fall down or how to fix a flat tire or a burnt-out lightbulb. Maybe he is related to you, but he's not a father. He doesn't deserve that title."

Noah's gaze falls upon the hot tea and the steam that swirls into the air. She takes a deep breath and realizes that Derek is right. She wishes it could be different, but wishes aren't real, and her father will never change.

"You taught me how to fix a flat tire," she mutters and slowly shifts her gaze to Derek.

A grin makes its way to his lips and suddenly he's quietly laughing to himself. Noah can't help but laugh as well, the infectious sound inviting Penelope's giggle to join them as well. Their laughter fades after a few moments, a moment of silence for the revenge they've all sought for months finally coming true.

"And you taught me how to get back up," Noah adds with a smile. "Both of you."

"I don't know how I feel about the title 'Dad,' but I'll take it," Penelope teases as she bumps the teen's shoulder with her own.

"Morgan, Garcia, we need you," Aaron says as he walks by. "Noah, you're going to go with JJ."

The teen peers up at JJ, who is standing behind her. "Where are we going?"

"We're going to bring Doyle to a different room," JJ lies with ease, having had months of practice. "We don't want you to have to see him, so you can come sit in my office."

Noah doesn't question it and heads to the office with the blonde. She sits in one of the armchairs in front of JJ's desk and slouches back a bit.

JJ sits behind her desk with a hopeful gaze landing on the teen. "Noah?"

"Yeah?"

"I hope you get everything you've ever wanted," JJ admits softly.

"What?" Noah asks, her eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"It's all I've ever wanted for you," JJ continues to explain. "From the moment I first saw you, and that look in your eye, all I've wanted for you was the world to give you another chance. And for it to be kind to you because it wasn't before then, and it hasn't been these last few months."

Noah remains silent, wondering where the outburst of emotion is coming from.

"You're a thousand times stronger than anyone I've ever known. I don't know how you made it through everything, but you did. And I just want you to feel like you have another chance. To make everything right and for it to go your way again."

"I don't know if everything will ever be right again," Noah says softly. "But thanks. It means a lot."

JJ nods, understanding where she's coming from. "I'm gonna head back to the team, but I'll be back to check on you, okay?"

"Okay," the teen says and watches JJ stand from her seat to leave Noah to herself.

JJ closes the office door behind her, keeping her hand on the wood. She closes her eyes for a moment, preparing herself for what's to come. Please forgive me, she thinks to herself.

Aaron walks into the round table room and JJ joins them just a few moments later.

"Welcome back," Derek says to the man, not having the chance to before now.

"Thanks," Aaron replies. "Everybody, have a seat."

"Why?" Derek questions, not sitting. "What's going on? Is everything alright?"

Penelope, Spencer, and Reid all sit down, doing as they're told. Derek notices that JJ is standing at the front of the room beside Aaron, whose arms are folded across his chest; signs that they know something the rest of them don't.

"Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team," Aaron begins with no stutter in his voice, showing his confidence in his decision. "As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. The doctors were able to stabilize her and she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration."

Derek glances around at the rest of his team, wondering if they're hearing the same revelation as him.

"Her identity was strictly need-to-know. She was reassigned to Paris, where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security."

"She's alive?" Penelope asks with wide eyes.

The look on Aaron's face gives the team the answer they were all looking for.

"But, we buried her," Spencer says in disbelief.

"As I said, I take full responsibility for the decision. If anyone has any issues, they should be directed toward me," Aaron states.

Derek's eyebrows raise in shock. "Any issues?!" he tuts. "Yeah, I got issues."

Before he can say anything more, heels are heard clicking towards the doorway of the briefing room. Everyone turns to where Emily Prentiss herself stands, looking at the team and taking in their faces, which all seem to have turned white. They've truly seen a ghost, or at least, that's what they thought she was.

"Oh, my God," Penelope murmurs as she sees her friend again, a single tear dropping down her cheek.

Derek stares at the woman he grieved for months. He worked tirelessly, seeking revenge on one of the most prolific criminals they've ever seen and learning how to be a father to a lost, scared, depressed 16-year-old. And now, the woman he was doing it all for has her arms wrapped around him, the first words out of her mouth, already proving not to be enough to make up for what he's been through.

"I am so sorry," Emily says, her voice sounding like an old record they haven't heard in years. "I really am. Not a day went by that I didn't wanna—" she pauses as she sees Derek's expression.

The man hasn't moved an inch. The team, especially Emily, has never seen him this shaken before. He puts his life on the line almost every day for his work, but incessantly picking up a mess that now seems pointless has nearly broken him.

"Really, you didn't deserve that," she says to him. "I don't deserve the friend that you've proven yourself to be," she adds, now speaking quietly so only he can hear.

Derek's face gives nothing away. His mouth doesn't smile, his brows don't express shock, and his eyes don't tell a word.

"There's so much I want to tell you guys, and I will, I promise, but right now, I just want to see her."

Everybody knows who she's referring to. After months of being kept away from her, the first person she wanted to see was her daughter. And she's falling slowly down the list the longer she waits.

"No."

It's the first word that leaves Derek's mouth since he set eyes on Emily again. It makes everyone turn to look at him.

"What?" Emily asks.

"Someone has to tell her," Derek says. "You can't spring this on her. It's not right."

"Derek, we don't have much time—" Aaron begins, but doesn't get to finish as Derek cuts him off.

"I think we've handled a lot of things wrong," Derek interjects, slightly eyeing his boss as he speaks. "And I wanna do this right. Whatever will make this make sense to her. But I don't know if there's a right way to handle this."

Emily's head slightly bows, feeling as though she's been replaced. The person looking after her daughter, although he's a friend, is telling her what she can and can't do with her daughter. It hurts her inside, but she knows that he's right. She has no idea what's happened since she left and no idea what state Noah is in. All she knows is that it can't be a good one.

"You should be the one to tell her," Penelope suggests as she puts a hand on Derek's arm.

"Please," Emily pleads. "I need to see her."

Derek thinks about the thousands of ways that he could tell Noah, but none of them seem right. It's either too subtle or too brutal, not enough or too much. How do you tell a child that their mourning has been pointless?

Each step to JJ's office is like pins stabbing the bottom of his foot. He's not sure what to say or how to say it. With Noah, he assumes outright honesty may be the best way to go.

Noah peers up at Derek as he walks into the office. "Hey. What's wrong?"

Derek quietly sits in the armchair beside hers, leaning down to rest his elbows on his knees. "Noah, I'm gonna tell you something, but you can't panic."

"Is Doyle gone?" she frets. "Did he escape again?"

"No, it doesn't really have to do with Doyle."

"Then, what?"

"It's a lot to ask, but you can't lose it because there's a lot going on right now, but you deserve to know, and I wanted to do this the right way. No secrets, no keeping you in the dark. Alright?"

"What is it?" she asks, not realizing that the very simple question will change everything.

"Noah," he pauses but only for a moment. "Emily is alive."

As the words leave his lips, the world seems to tilt beneath her feet. Though the sound reaches her ears, her mind refuses to process it. Alive? The woman she had mourned for months, whose absence has shaped every piece of her life, every decision she's made in the last seven months. It can't be true. Yet the look in his eyes is unmistakable—grave, apologetic, certain. Her chest tightens, and her heart hammers wildly as the past and present collide once again.

"What?" she asks in a whisper. "No," she shakes her head, but his expression says otherwise. "No, what're you doing? Why are you saying that? Why are you doing this to me?"

Derek's eyes close tightly as he hears her voice crack. "Your mother is alive—"

"Stop!" she shouts at him as she covers her ears. "Why are you saying that? Why are you doing this to me?"

Derek puts his hands on her wrists and slowly pulls her hands away from her ears. "I know that you don't understand, I don't fully either, but it's the truth. And I could explain everything, but don't you wanna see her?"

"See her?" Noah asks with disgust laced in her voice. "Are you crazy? I don't understand why you're doing this to me—"

"Noah, listen to me," he stops her from spiraling. "She made it through surgery and she was sent to France under a new name. She was ordered to stay there until Doyle was caught. She didn't have a choice, he would have found her, he would have..."

"Killed her?" she asks sarcastically. "Good thing we know how that would've gone."

"Noah, come on," Derek pleads for her to take it seriously, but it feels like one big, sick joke.

"I don't believe you," she says as she shakes her head.

"I'm sorry, Noah. I don't want to make this hard for you. I'm trying to do the right thing here," he says quietly. Noah peers up at him as he speaks, having a level of trust with him. "I wouldn't do this to you, I wouldn't lie about this. I just wanted to keep you out of the dark, okay?"

Noah feels a surge of emotions crash over her, each one pulling her in a different direction. The moment Derek's words settled in, her mind reels, her thoughts splintering like glass. The shock strikes her first—a sharp, gut-wrenching realization that twisted everything she thought she knew. The grief she's carried, the hollow ache she's lived with for months, feels like a cruel joke now.

Anger flares hot and fierce, fueling her pulse, sending her heart racing in a way that leaves her breathless. She feels betrayed, not just by her mother, but by everyone who let her believe this—who let her hurt and struggle, mourning someone who hasn't truly left. It's a betrayal that cuts so deep, it feels like a physical wound, sharp and unyielding, slowly stirring her into a raw, uncontainable rage.

But, as always, beneath the anger is something far more fragile—a thread of confusion and vulnerability that twists painfully in her chest.

There was no solace in knowing her mother was alive, only a chaotic mess of feelings she can't begin to unravel. Beneath everything, she feels something deeper, something that aches more than anger or sadness ever could—a sense of loss that returns with a vengeance.

"Who knew?" she asks.

"That's not important—" Derek tries to get her to let it go.

"Who knew?!"

"Hotch and JJ."

Noah sits back, biting the inside of her cheeks, trying to conceal her anger, which is slowly turning into bottled-up tears.

"I know this sounds crazy, but this is your wish. All you've ever wanted was for her to come back."

"But I accepted that she was gone."

"Did you?" he asks.

"Derek," she sighs as she shakes her head. "I'm confused. I don't understand—"

Derek leans closer to the teen and reaches out to grasp her hand. "And I'm telling you that you don't need to understand to be able to sit in front of your mother and hear her voice again. This is your chance to get back something you thought was gone forever."

Noah gazes into Derek's eyes, seeing nothing but encouragement.

"Everything that needs to be understood can come later."

𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳

"I don't understand," Penelope says as she waits outside of the conference room with Spencer.

"I don't either," he replies with his eyes unfocused. "Usually, I know everything. There's always an answer, a solution, but I can't wrap my head around this one."

Penelope's chin quivers as she looks at Spencer's devastating frown. "Shouldn't we just be happy that she's here?"

"But why weren't we trusted enough in the first place?" he questions.

Penelope opens her mouth to speak, but they hear footsteps coming down the hallway. They glance toward the sound and see Derek walking behind Noah, supporting her every step of the way.

"Noah," Penelope sighs as she meets them halfway. "I don't know what to say, I..."

"You don't have to say anything," Noah assures her and feels the blonde's hand squeeze her arm.

"I'll help with the case when we're done," Derek tells his friends, who are now bonded by a sense of betrayal.

Penelope nods silently and squeezes Noah's arm again, silently showing her support. She turns to Spencer, reaching for his arm to walk him back to the bullpen.

Noah watches them walk down the hallway, her heart pounding as every second leads her closer to her mother. But they go by quickly without her moving an inch. She's used to running, but it's not with her feet for once. She's standing still, but her mind is running a mile a minute, and terrified of what's ahead.

"I need a second," Noah says as she holds her hand up.

"Okay," Derek replies, wanting the teen to take as much time as she needs.

She stares at the door of the conference room, realizing there's only a slab of wood separating her from her mother. All it takes to see her again is opening the door, but for some reason, she can't find herself to do it.

Noah begins to pace back and forth as she picks at her fingernails. Her heart is pounding with fear, concerned that this is all a dream. Or a nightmare, depending on how she looks at it. Even knowing the severity of her mother's job, it still doesn't feel real or practical.

Derek leans against the wall, watching her with a careful eye. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" he asks.

"Yes," she nods but continues to pace.

"You should probably stand still and catch your breath."

Noah barely hears him, stuck in the muddled confines of her mind. She still can't decide between delusion and reality. Has she plummeted so far into her investigation and grief that she's created a hallucination?

"What if I don't recognize her?" she asks in between sharp inhales. "What if she looks different from how I remember? Or what if I don't know what to say?"

"Noah, Noah," he says as he holds her by the shoulder, stopping her from pacing anymore. "I'm sure you remember her exactly the way she is."

"Does she look the same?" she asks quietly.

"It's just Emily," he replies calmly, making her take a deep breath. "You will know what to say when you see her."

"And what if I'm mad at her?"

"Then, you can join the club," he states without hesitation.

Derek's hesitation to be forgiving is a comfort to her at this moment. It doesn't make her feel guilty and his irresolution makes it feel real. It helps her realize that her wish may have come true.

"I'll be right out here," he says. "If you wanna cry, then cry. If you wanna yell, then yell. And if you wanna walk out, walk out and I'll be right here."

Noah's head dips in a subtle nod, but the tightness in her throat is a constant weight, one she's carried for seven agonizing months—the bitter pill she's never been able to swallow. She sucks in a deep breath, her eyes fixed on the door. Suddenly, a wave of impatience crashes over her, an unbearable urgency to know if this is real.

Her fingers curl around the cold metal of the doorknob, trembling. She eases it down, the latch clicks softly, and the door loosens beneath her hand. It quivers, a slight back-and-forth motion, echoing her own uncertainty. The knot in her stomach tightens, nausea bubbling up as dread fills her—what if she wakes up? What if none of this exists beyond this moment?

When the door opens, time seems to slow. As the door swings open, piece by piece, it reveals her mother, sitting in a chair across the table. The woman rises slowly, and Noah's gaze travels upward, her breath catching. Her eyes gaze at the anxiously short fingernails, up to the soft wool of her sweater, past the lips that used to whisper how much they loved her when she pretended to be asleep, and finally meeting the soft brown eyes that she tried so desperately to see in her dreams, but could never quite get them right.

And Emily, like her daughter, gazes back into the icy blue eyes that haunted her, but she loves so much. Those eyes—once bright, full of love and warmth—now seem dull, as if the months have stolen their light. Emily remembers when they would crinkle at the corners from laughter, how they would fill with tears when her daughter was sad or anxious. But now, there's a hardness there, a guardedness.

They seem older, and tired, like they've seen too much, and weathered too many storms. And as Emily stares deeper, she feels the sharp sting of distance, a painful reminder that something unspoken lingers between them—something that has changed them both. It's not just time that's worn her daughter down, but life and grief itself, the things they've been through, the things left unsaid. The eyes that learned to completely welcome Emily now seem to hold her at arm's length.

And suddenly, Noah decides that it's real—her wish has come true—but as her mother's eyes meet hers, a cold realization settles in: even though this moment is everything she longed for, it doesn't erase the scars of grief or soften the sting of betrayal lodged in her heart.