Aftershocks, a criminal minds fanfic

Summary - The case had gone well, compared to how it could've been. The unsub was going to get the help she needed, the women had been rescued, and no one had sustained bodily injury. A successful case. So what was up with Reid? Post The Uncanny Valley, with spoilers for that episode.

Disclaimer – *insert something witty about how I don't own Criminal Minds here, and how I don't have enough money for it to be worthwhile to sue me*

*Notes – I'm still working on 'The Moment I Said It', I promise! It's just that I finally got around to watching this episode last night, and this story kind of wrote itself. That being said, I hope you enjoy!

Morgan hadn't noticed that anything was amiss until they'd gone to bed that night.

The case had been depressing, shocking, and more than a little disturbing. The pictures of those women, dead and posed as perfect porcelain dolls, were something Morgan knew wouldn't be fading from his memory anytime soon. But to him, the case had turned out better then he'd expected; Samantha was going to get the help she needed, the abducted women had been rescued, and Samantha's disgusting excuse of a father was going to be put away for a long, long time.

So, everything was fine. They'd flown back to Quantico, and although the airplane was quiet as everyone caught up on their sorely missed sleep, the atmosphere was far more relaxed then it normally was post-case.

Morgan had been tempted to sit by Reid, but he'd refrained. Although he'd been seeing the other man for close to four months (ever since one too many shots of alcohol and an embarrassing confession had led to the best night of his life), they still hadn't officially 'come out' to the team. Since they both worked with a team of elite profilers, neither Morgan nor Reid was under the impression that their relationship was still a secret. However, they'd decided to wait and see how long they could go without bringing it up; Garcia looked ready to fold any day now.

So instead, Morgan had sat down next to JJ, stretching out on the armed seat and not-so-subtly watching Reid. Ever since Reid had been shot, the team had unanimously and silently surrendered the couch to the doctor. Reid had sprawled out on the cream-color furniture, one leg propped up almost awkwardly on a pillow. His head had been turned towards the window, the light striking his face and illuminating the flawless skin. His expression had been pensive, and Morgan could see his hand twitching lightly at his side – obviously, the genius was in deep thought.

Probably thinking about nuclear-fission or something like that, Morgan had rationalized with a small smirk. He'd allowed his gaze to travel once more over his lover before he'd let his head to fall back against the headrest, and closed his eyes.

After the plane had landed, the rest of the evening had been somewhat of a blur. The team had plans to go out for drinks at a local bar, but almost everyone ended up declining. Hotch had just wanted to get home to Jack, as JJ wanted with Will and Henry, and Morgan with Reid.

They'd grabbed fast food on the way home, since neither had felt like cooking, and had driven in silence. Although silence was unusual for Reid, it wasn't alarming; sometimes, Morgan figured that Reid was too busy sorting out ideas in his never-slowing-down brain to acknowledge the outside world.

They'd lounged around, watched TV… it all mingled together in one long string of memories. All Morgan knew was that when he'd fallen onto the bed, Reid was still in the bathroom. He'd patted the bed loudly with the palm of his hand, yelling out that the bed was getting cold. To his immense surprise, there was no comeback about the actual length of time it would take to cool the fabric of their bed to a noticeable extent. That should've been his first sign.

When Reid had finally crawled into bed, Morgan had reached for him, pulling him into the hard muscles of his chest. He didn't know why, but he liked sleeping this way best, wrapped all around Reid, smelling nothing but him, feeling nothing but him… well, that was a lie. Morgan knew exactly why he liked sleeping with Reid protected in his arms so much; he just refused to acknowledge it.

When Morgan had pressed his lips to the back of Reid's neck in a chaste kiss, he'd noticed. It was nothing major, just the smallest sensation of trembling beneath his lips. Still, it was a cause for concern; Reid didn't tremble. Despite his almost delicate appearance, he was stronger then anyone ever gave him credit for. Behind that delicate façade laid the strength of a child who'd been forced to care for his sick mother, the perseverance of a genius stuck in a public high school, and the sheer will of a man who'd been bullied, drugged, kidnapped, betrayed, tortured, and humiliated, all without loosing his innocence.

After his mind finished wandering on its tangent, Morgan cleared his throat. "Pretty boy?" he asked, his voice husky and low. "You okay?" When the only answer was silence, Morgan slid a hand protectively over Reid's shirt-encased stomach, feeling the lithe muscles hiding behind the cotton. Reid was all sharp angles, with just enough muscle provided from the job to balance those angles out.

"Talk to me, Spencer," Morgan whispered, tacking on a low pitched, "Please." He exhaled, feeling Reid's hair brush up against his nose with the gust of breath.

Without warning, Reid turned in his arms so they were face to face, their heads sharing the same pillow. Not wanting to move, Morgan stretched a lazy hand to the bedside table, tapping gently on the lamp once to activate it to its lowest setting. Thank god for touch sensitive lamps.

With the hazy light filling the room, Morgan propped his head on hand, elbow digging into the pillow, while his other hand rested lightly on Reid's hip. When he brought his gaze back up to meet Reid's, the emotion he saw there caused his eyes to widen in surprise. He'd been expecting confusion, or disappointment, or even tears.

Not this. Not rage.

If Reid's clenched jaw and pursed lips weren't enough of an indicator, the pure amount of anger emanating from him would've been enough to clue Morgan in. His normally hazel eyes were cold instead of warm, dark instead of light… furious.

Morgan instinctively leaned back the slightest fraction, scanning Reid's face and trying to catch his now downcast gaze. "Spencer… what's going on?" he asked, desperately searching his own mind for answers.

Reid's eyes flicked back up to Morgan's face, hopelessness now adding a new array of emotions to the genius's expression. "You weren't there," he said simply, obviously expecting Morgan to read between the lines and understand what he meant.

At Morgan's poorly hidden, confused expression, Reid sighed heavily before propping himself up on his elbow as well. "When we interviewed Samantha's father. You weren't there."

"Did something happen?" Morgan frantically scanned his memory, trying to remember Rossi's recount of the interview. Apart from Rossi's standard report and brief comment on how Reid had really 'taken control' of the situation, nothing had sent up any red flags for him.

Reid pulled back slightly out of Morgan's embrace, looking so vulnerable that Morgan's heart ached a little bit. His emotions were written clear on his face, and almost all of the anger had melted away into resignation; Morgan didn't know what emotion he hated more on his pretty boy's face.

"Besides the fact that Doctor Arthur Malcolm is the metaphorical scum of the earth, and that Jenny Larsen, Abigail Moore, and Linda Crouse were taken advantage of by someone whom they were supposed to trust?" Reid snapped, fire burning in his eyes. "If that's not what you're referring to, then I'm just fine."

Reid finished with a ragged breath, his eyes locked on Morgan's. Morgan knew that his surprise and confusion was displayed all too prominently in his eyes, but he also knew that Reid would be able to tell if he tried to mask his emotions.

The silence that fell was smothering, thick, causing Morgan's words to choke in his throat. It was eventually broken by Reid turning his head so that his palm pressed into his forehead, angling his face away from Morgan. A whispered "sorry" floated through the air, so quiet that Morgan barely heard it.

"Hey, hey hey hey, pretty boy. Spencer." Morgan skimmed his hand up Reid's side, from hipbone to shoulder and back down again. "Don't apologize. Just tell me what's going on."

Another silence. Morgan would've been tempted to break it if he hadn't been able to practically hear the gears in Reid's mind turning. Assuming that his lover was trying to piece together his thoughts, Morgan allowed the quiet to reign, allowed it to stretch into the softly lit room.

When Reid coughed softly, Morgan returned his full attention to him. Reid had angled his face back towards Morgan, and the light played on his features; half of him was in shadows, while the other half was glowing in the soft light.

"Logically, I know that we've dealt with worse cases," were Reid's opening words. He went to continue, but was quickly cut off by Morgan's finger pressing against his lips, effectively silencing him.

"I know you can rattle off a, a billion-trillion statistics about logics of emotions, Spencer," he said gently. "But turn off that big ol' genius brain of yours for a minute, okay? I just want to know how you're feeling."

"Billion-trillion is actually…" Reid argued instinctively, before catching the look on Morgan's face. "No logic allowed… right." The brief flash of almost-humour was wiped off of both of their faces by a far more serious expression.

"It's just… she was nine years old, Derek. And it was her father that did that to her. He was the one person she should've been able to depend on, and he betrayed her." At Morgan's expression, Reid quickly added, "And no, this isn't transference. I'm not projecting my own disappointments about my father onto this case. Besides, it's more than that.

"When I offered to give her those dolls back… Derek, you should've seen her face. All she had ever wanted were those dolls… they were the one thing she had that didn't hurt her. They were the only things she ever wanted from her father… and he couldn't even give her them, because he was too busy giving them to the other girls that he molested, the ones who were there for grief counselling. And I had to stand there and offer him a deal to make him talk."

"Spencer…" Morgan whispered, only to be cut off by Reid's rising voice.

"You know what the worse part is? He thought that we would ignore what he was doing if he cooperated."

"Spencer," Morgan repeated, stroking his thumb along the skin of Reid's sharp hipbone, "what else happened?"

Reid glanced up sharply, his eyes wide. Under Morgan's soothing gaze and gentle touches, he relaxed.

"When we arrested Malcolm," he choked out, "after we rescued the women from Samantha, someone had to inform his patient's parents about what had happened to their daughters. I volunteered."

Catching Morgan's expression, Reid answered the inevitable questions in quick succession. "When we went out to dinner the night before we left back for Quantico, I left early to go talk to them." A memory of Reid whispering that he'd meet Morgan at the airplane flashed briefly through Morgan's mind. "And I don't know why I decided to do it. Maybe I thought it would give me closure on the situation, but it didn't. It was extremely illogical, I know, and…."

"Reid… what happened?" The use of Reid's last name jarred him back into focus, and Morgan could physically see him pull himself together, and set aside his ramblings.

"I was told that my accusations were unfounded each time. I was slapped twice, and had to listen to three girls confess their worst memories to their parents. And then," Reid sighed, his free hand scrubbing at his eyes, "I had to watch three families come to terms with the worst news they'll ever hear."

"I'm sorry," Morgan offered after a beat of silence. "I wish I had been there for you, pretty boy. I'm sorry." The words were nothing but a band-aid on an open wound, a band-aid was better then no protection to the stinging air.

"I'm glad you weren't there," Reid replied simply, sounding calmer then he had all night. "I am perfectly capable of operating by myself, and besides, I wouldn't have wanted you to have to share that burden with me."

Morgan paused, a slow, slightly subdued smile spreading across his face. "SSA Doctor Spencer Reid… pretty boy… are you trying to protect me?" A light flush covered Reid's face, but he lifted his chin defiantly, a half amused/half serious spark in his eyes.

"What if I am?" he asked, his tone simultaneously teasing and stern. "Just because you are the stereotypical protector in our relationship doesn't mean that I am therefore incapable of reciprocating the favour." Leaning back, Reid waited for a response. When none came, he realized that Morgan was looking at him with a borderline goofy expression on his face. "What?" he asked, almost crossly.

Morgan leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Reid's lips, smiling when he felt the genius's mouth part in surprise. "I love it when you say stuff like that." At Reid's confused face, Morgan elaborated, "Like 'our relationship.'"

"That's ridiculous," Reid stated simply, looking at Morgan as if he was rather dense. Which, compared to Reid, Morgan was. "You know we're in a relationship. It's a stated fact. That's like my dopamine levels increasing whenever I hear someone mention the theory of relativity, or the law of parsimony."

Morgan chuckled, which only served to increase the amount of (not so) mock outrage on Reid's face. "I guess then," he whispered, "it's just you that makes my dopamine levels soar through the roof, or whatever they are."

"Actually, the hormones involved in love are dopamine, seroton-" Before Reid could continue on with what was bound to become a seminar on love, Morgan leaned forwards and kissed him softly, effectively shutting him up.

When he pulled away, Reid was staring at him with a slightly dazed expression on his face. However, the dazed look was quickly replaced by one filled with such affection, and maybe something more, that Morgan felt his chest swell.

They stared at each other for a moment longer before Morgan tapped the lamp until the room went dark; the only glow was from the nightlight Reid had embarrassingly asked Morgan if they could keep in the room, stating that it would prevent an "inherent absence of light".

"C'mon pretty boy, it's late," Morgan offered as a way of explanation. He manoeuvred Reid until the limber man was lying across his chest, his head resting in the crook of Morgan's neck.

Morgan wrapped his arms around Reid, feeling Reid's rhythmic breaths puff against his skin. He listened as Reid's breathing slowed, until he thought the other man was asleep.

"Derek?" The word was whispered against Derek's skin, in a sleep-thickened voice.

"Mmhmm?" he hummed in response, bringing a hand up to curl in Reid's hair.

"Thank… thank you. For not treating me like I'm less… for letting me move on." Morgan could barely decipher the words through Reid's sleep induced slur, but they left him with a warm tingling.

"You never have to thank me for that, pretty boy," he whispered before pressing a kiss to the top of Reid's head. With that, he shut his eyes and drifted off to sleep, allowing the words they both knew were in the air to linger there for one night longer.

I love you.

This fic was not supposed to be written, but my muse wouldn't let it go. That being said, I really, really hope you liked it! (Oh, and yes, I'm aware of the change in tense midway through the story. It was intentional. Just so there's no confusion on that!)

Please review, and let me know what you loved/liked/hated about the story, and I'll give you a virtual naked!DerekMorgan… or nakedandbabblingstatistics!SpencerReid. Whatever you prefer ;)