Author's Note: This is a series of one-shots and short little scenes between Greg and Morgan to tide people over until September 27. Each chapter will be a new prompt/scene. If you have a suggestion or idea you want me to try to include as a chapter, you can review or PM me with the idea and I will try to include it here. These are all going to be Morganders, so I'm not inclined to include other couples, but if it's not slash, then I could perhaps attempt it. If you send me an idea and I use it, obviously I will give you credit!

This first chapter is a prompt from the blog OTPPrompts on Tumblr. (For some reason, it won't let me link it.) Now, on with the show!

Nightmare

Shadows concealed the majority of the room. Morgan spun around, a feeling of dread rising like bile from her stomach to her chest. What little light there was had a pale blue cast to it. She turned around and saw him, standing there. Matthew Tarland, her captor. She brought her hands up to her neck and found the collar.

"No!" She turned and found the chain from the collar attached to the wall just behind her. Matthew grinned, pointing his gun at her.

"Not so tough, now, are you?"

He sneered and brought the gun near her face. Morgan tried to punch him, but he dodged out of reach. He hit her with the gun and she cried out. The collar was suddenly gone and they were in front of the house. The sun blazed down upon them and they were wrestling in the dirt.

"Let…GO… OF ME!" She screamed, thrashing around and punching him. He hit back, grunting in anger and frustration. She grabbed for the gun, but he jammed it in her face. His hands reached for her, groping at her body.

"No…NO!" She cried out. "Arrggghh!"

Her eyes flew open. She was on the ground next to her bed, tangled in the sheets and blanket. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She covered her face with her hands and forced herself to take deep breaths to calm herself down. It didn't work.

Sobbing, she kicked at the blanket and her phone tumbled from the sheets to land in her lap. She scooped it up, her hands shaking wildly. Tears made it hard to see, but she unlocked the phone and dialed the first number that came to her head from memory.

She hesitated for a moment as her thumb hovered over the green button on the screen before pressing it. She shivered as she tried to shove the memory of Matthew Tarland's hands crawling over her, deep into the recesses of her memory. She put it on speaker, unable to hold it to her ear without dropping it. She collapsed into the blankets and let the phone fall to the carpet next to her.

"Morgan?" Greg's voice asked through the phone. He sounded groggy and she instantly felt bad for waking him.

"Greg…I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called." She reached out to end the call when Greg's voice stopped her.

"What's wrong?" He suddenly sounded very awake. "Morgan? I could tell by your voice that you're upset."

"I'm just… I just…" The tears came back, she couldn't stop them. She curled up on her floor.

"Morgan what happened?" Greg asked. She could hear him moving around his room.

"I had a nightmare about Matthew Tarland. I was fighting him off and I just…" The dream had been so vivid it was as if she could feel it all again. She bit down on her lip so that Greg wouldn't hear the shakiness in her voice.

"Morgan… listen to me."

"Yes."

"Hold on, okay?"

"Okay." She squeezed her eyes shut to prevent more tears, but it didn't make the sense memory of Matthew Tarland go away. She couldn't hear anything on Greg's end of the phone and she got lost in her horrified thoughts for a few minutes before she rolled over to stare at her phone.

"Greg?" She called out. She didn't get a response, but the call hadn't been ended. She kicked the sheet and blanket completely away, untangling her legs from everything.

"Greg?" Still nothing. Feeling a sudden, cold emptiness in her chest, she ended the call and burst into tears. Why did I call him, what was I thinking? She buried her face into the side of the mattress and let her emotions go, weeping uncontrollably. She didn't want to admit how much the whole incident with him, his brother and Ellie Brass had upset her. She'd talked to the department psychiatrist for several months afterwards, but then stopped going.

She felt as though she'd dealt with it all. It was sufficiently buried that she didn't have to deal with it on a daily basis and it was easy to get lost in the details of her work. There weren't very many people she felt as though she could call when she needed someone to lean on. Why didn't he just stay on the line, just for a minute longer? She felt a wave of anger, but remembered that she hung up on him, not the other way around. Frustrated, she punched her bed and almost didn't hear her phone beep at her.

Pulling her face away from the bed, she looked over at it. It was a text from Greg.

Greg: Open your front door.

She frowned at the phone. Cautiously, she got up and stumbled through the living room of her apartment. It was the middle of the day, so she had all the blinds drawn and closed, the curtains pulled shut and all the fans going at full speed since she got hot when she slept during the day. She got to the front door and opened it, not sure what she would find.

She found Greg. He stood there, panting. She stared up at him in alarm.

"What…are you doing here?" She asked.

"I had to make sure you were okay." Greg said. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure…yes." She stepped back and let Greg in, shutting and locking the door behind him. She stood there, unsure what she should do.

She walked back to her bedroom in a daze and only to realize that Greg had silently followed her. When she got to her room, she frowned at it. Her bedding was all over the floor and so were her pillows. She stared down at herself; she'd forgotten that her pajamas were a pair of underwear and a large faded t-shirt with an AC/DC logo on it.

"Greg, you didn't… have to come here, I feel bad now." She said, wishing her room looked better; that she looked better.

"I wanted to come here. I had too. You sounded really upset and I needed to help." Greg said. Morgan turned to look at him. He was staring at her room, looking around at the mess. His eyes moved back to her.

"It's just…it was just a bad dream, I'm sorry for bothering you." Morgan said.

"If it was just a bad dream you wouldn't be this upset." Greg insisted. Morgan turned to protest, but when she looked up into Greg's eyes, and the worry in them, she couldn't contain her own emotions. Tears spilled onto her cheeks again.

"Why can't I just get past this?" She asked, sniffling. Greg put his hand on her shoulder and having him near seemed to open the floodgates. The tears came yet again and she buried her head into his shoulder. His arms wrapped around her, warm, strong and comforting. His hand moved up and down her back soothingly. She cried into his shirt, just like she'd done before when they were looking for the kidnapped baby boy.

Neither one of them said anything for a while. He let her cry and she clung to him for comfort. When the tears faded and she couldn't cry anymore, she sniffled and pulled away slightly to look up at Greg. She didn't even want to think about how horrible she looked without her makeup and messy bed hair and red rimmed eyes, puffy from her tears.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Greg murmured. She nodded.

"There are things….about my time in captivity that I didn't talk about. Things that I figured didn't matter a whole lot after Matthew died. I mean…I talked to the psychiatrist at PD about it, but I didn't want to broadcast it around." She said. He hadn't let go, and she was grateful for that.

"What kinds of things?"

"He attached a collar to my neck, with a chain on it, and it was locked onto a bed." She explained. Greg pulled her towards her own bed and she sat on the floor, using the side of the bed as a backrest. He sat next to her, their thighs touching.

"That's part of your nightmare?"

"Yes, and he's waving a gun around. I don't know why Ellie is never in the nightmares, she's the one who actually shot me."

"A dream about a guy waving a gun around wouldn't make you this upset." Greg said. Morgan looked up at Greg again.

"Well, it's the part where he…put his hands all over me that makes it bad. I can't completely fight him off because of the collar…" Her voice got quiet and she was surprised that no more tears came.

"He put his hands on you?" Greg asked, sounding very tense and upset. Morgan stared down at her legs.

"He didn't rape me. He…touched me." She said. "He would tell me how pretty I was, to pretty to be a cop, which is what he thought I was the whole time." She looked up to see a range of emotions moving over Greg's features. The one she saw most of was rage.

"Why didn't you say anything before now?"

"I didn't want to worry you or make you mad. Especially since he's long since dead and what else would anyone do about it?" Morgan said. "Nick told me about how you got into trouble when you rushed into the warehouse to see if I was in there, without backup and how Brass warned you to stay back when you guys got to that house."

Greg's face flushed slightly.

"I knew that if I told you, you would get mad. I just…sometimes the nightmares come back, for no reason at all, and they're so real that when I wake up, it's like I'm back there."

"If he was still alive, I'd kill him myself." Greg said. Morgan smiled sheepishly and leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Can…you stay with me? It feels better having you here." Morgan said. Greg put his arm around her and gave her a squeeze.

"Of course I can." He said, feeling a rush of jitters.

They got up and fixed the bed sheets, blanket and pillows. Morgan pulled her hair away from her face and climbed into bed. Greg sat on the bed next to her.

"If you don't want to, you don't have too, but could you…just lay here? For a while?" She took his hand and looked up at him.

"Of course I will." He said. He pulled off his shoes and socks and stretched out next to Morgan, who curled up next to him and rested her cheek on his shoulder.

"Thank you, Greg." She murmured quietly, her hand coming up to rest against his chest instinctively. He sat there and listened to her breathing slow until it became regular and deep. He closed his own eyes with a smile.

Turning his head slightly as he drifted off, he whispered, "Sweet dreams." He saw the smile grace her lips as sleep took him.