DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN ANYTHING (JUST THE PSYCHO)
Martin Luther King Jr said Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.
If that was true, Derek Morgan had died several decades ago. He loved silence. Muting everything he felt, locking up his own feelings in a hidden place in the world.
He wasn't an impulsive man. Well, maybe one time or another, when someone's life was in danger. But never, in any situation where his heart was involved. Derek didn't even know if his fucking heart did nothing else other than pumping blood through his veins.
There he was, with a gesture frozen on his face, his soul dying a little more each second. His brown eyes, those that once twinkled with something like joy, they were covered with a thick veil of sadness. He glanced around the park.
That wet grass where the two of them had shared long talks, staring at the sky. That old swing where she sat whenever the world erased her smile. Whenever that damn bastard killed her bright smile.
Derek couldn't count how many times he dried her tears, promising her everything would be okay. But he'd not kept his promise. Nothing was right. Everything was a fucking mess.
"It was an accident," she said, with sad eyes and a fake smile painted on her face. He knew it was just another one of her excuses. "You know I'm very clumsy""
"If this guy is hurting you-"
"No, he's not doing anything" she placed her index finger over his lips. "You feel like eating Thai?"
He nodded slightly. She grabbed his hand, leaving a soft kiss on his cheek. That was their last time together. That was her last kiss.
That very morning, Derek had left his home determined to help her out of that problem. She deserved better.
But a few minutes on the phone completely changed his life.
"She is dead," Jennifer said from the other side of the telephone line, almost drowned by tears "That guy ... She ... he killed her!"
"Morgan, please, drop the gun"
He swallowed hard, trying to drown out Spencer's voice. The room was silent, sensing a tragedy. Derek could feel all his mates around him, slowly getting closer, moving away from the other man.
His grip tightened on the gun, though his hands were still shaking. He saw the desperation in that coward, his fear of dying on his eyes.
"Sorry," the fucking man whispered, falling to his knees "I'm so sorry"
"You never loved her"
That wasn't a question, but an affirmation. When you hit a woman, there is no love.
When you cover her with insults, crushing her self esteem and killing her spirit, there is no love.
When you give her a beating death...
In the heart of that motherfucker, there was no love for her. And it was ironic, it really was, knowing that his own heart was full of love for her.
The murderer had the good grace to look down, dodging those six pairs of eyes that stared accusingly at him. "Sorry," he muttered, raising his eyes "Don't kill me, please"
In other cases, he might have doubted his guilt. If circumstances had been different, Derek would have been moved by his tears and terror. But he just felt anger corrupting his soul, rejecting his idea of 'hey, everyone has a good side'.
He could almost see his little devil on his left shoulder, jumping and repeating in his ear "Shoot. Just shoot him. KILL HIM!"
Derek lowered his head and closed his eyes. He felt his tears wetting her cheeks as gentle breezes clashed against his skin. He felt his body shaking as his mind filled with images of her. But he couldn't feel his heart. Yes, his vital organ was pumping blood through his veins still. That was the only sign of life in his body.
God, she was gone for less than ten hours. But he was already feeling half dead, no emotions, no feelings, no faith. A zombie. A monster. A robot.
Any object without feelings, devoid of life.
What if ... Those were his favorite words.
What if I had told my feelings for her? what if I had forced her to get out of that hell?
Maybe they'd have been a happy couple. Maybe he'd become a father. Maybe he'd have a reason to come home. Maybe ... maybe ...
"Morgan, you can't kill this guy"Rossi's loud voice rang behind his back, his footsteps getting closer. "You're not like him, you're not a murderer"
He thought about his words for a few seconds. He wasn't a murderer ... or was he?. Isn't that what he was doing? Yes, that was his job. Breaking psychopaths.
It was assumed that he lived on the good side of the law, where a judge and a jury will dictate their punishment. But what to do if a sentence isn't enough? What to do if you know enough of law to know that this psycho barely will spend a few years in jail?
He'll work in prison and will have a good behavior. He'll start to have permits. And he'll get probation, maybe even become a religious devote. But Derek knew something for sure: a murderer doesn't revive their deads with prayers.
Mahatma Gandhi once said An eye for an eye only ends up making the whole world blind. But honestly, Derek Morgan didn't think it was a worthwhile world to look at without her ...
Night fell on the city. There was no longer children, no dogs, no noise.
There was just him, a lonely, broken man, but with a clear conscience. Because he could think of thousands of quotes filled with intelligence, wisdom and understanding. But Derek just needed her favorite quote from Shakespeare, the one that she repeated many times to him.
Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.
A/N: Ok, people. I know this is sad, maybe out of character for Derek ... or maybe not. This one-shot was written for 'the criminal minds Challengue song' on facebook.
If you're a writer, just come by there. There are still many songs that want to inspire you :)
My chosen song: Losing My Religion by R.E.M.
My prompts: Shocking news, a walk in the park.
Kisses&Hugs!
