A/N: This is something I wanted to write up after watching "Profiler Profiled" a few hours ago. It ended up differently than I wanted but this is a shout-out to Shemar Moore because he did such an amazing job in that episode. He just did so well as a victim and it was so close to home. I'm crying as I type this but I had to write it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.
Warnings: Implications of sexual abuse, trauma, and cursing. Nothing other than the 'D' word and the 'H' word.
Derek gripped his head in his hands. The physical pain almost grounded him and kept his mind out of that tightly locked drawer of memories. Almost.
Our little secret…
Derek held on tighter, "Shut up, shut up!" He hissed.
Have some whisky big man, you deserve it.
"No… Please, no!"
Come on Derek, let's go swimming.
"Leave me alone…" Derek whimpered. He dropped his head to the metal table, wincing a little at the sharp blast of pain. It cleared his mind just enough to register the fact that someone was opening the door to the interrogation room. It was Hotch.
"Carl Buford." Derek could only blink at his boss. That was the last thing he ever expected to hear come out of Hotch's mouth.
"Wh- what?" Derek felt his entire body tense. Every muscle, every fiber in his being was still terrified of that man.
"Carl Buford. He runs the youth center." Hotch's gaze bore right into Derek's soul.
He tried to play it cool, he lent back in his chair, breathed even, and swallowed hard, "What's that got to do with anything?"
"He's responsible for getting your records sponged." Derek's hand slammed down on the table, a sharp 'crack' resonating throughout the small room.
"I told you to stay the hell outta my business!" He growled, eyes shining with unshed tears of fear and pain.
"You said you visit the youth center every time you come here."
"So what?"
"Buford says he hasn't spoken to you in years. Why don't you visit the man who made your career possible?" Derek shoved the cardboard box off the table in a fury.
"Dammit Hotch!" He screamed, trembling in fear and anger, "It is none of your damn business." He said in a softer, yet more stern tone.
"Buford's the one that told the Detectives you were with Damien." Hotch said, not backing down one inch. Derek felt like his chest was being squeezed tight by invisible bands.
"I am warning you, Hotch. Back off." Derek pleaded, his heart hammering inside his chest. He felt like he couldn't breathe. Like something heavy was laying on his chest that he couldn't remove on his own. He wanted to tell someone about what happened but every time he opened his mouth the words got stuck in his throat.
Don't do this to me, he begged silently, don't open this wound anymore than it already is. Hotch stared at Derek for a few more seconds before leaving the room. Derek slumped onto his knees and forced himself not to cry. Someone was watching him through that glass window. Maybe Gideon, probably Detective Gordinski, maybe his partner.
All he knew was that he couldn't stop the memories from over taking him once more…