Thinking about his own abuse, realizing that it really happened and there was nothing he could do about it, was horrible. Thinking about the other kids who were going through the same thing now, was unbearable.
The girl, Callie, was just sitting there. She had sat in the corner of the room on the floor, her knees to her chest, without moving or speaking for the past 5 hours. She was so resilient. He knew why. Until she felt a something safe to grab onto, she would not move. The rest of the team had spoken to her in turn. JJ had spoken to her in case she felt in need of a motherly figure, Reid if she needed a brother. Emily had spoken to her if she wanted a friend and Hotch had spoken to her if she needed a father figure. Callie wasn't responding.
With every minute that went by with this girl trapped in her own little world of terror and horror, Morgan died a little bit more inside. When she was first brought into the station and Morgan caught a glimpse of her, he had to excuse himself. Every thing about her reminded himself of the worst time of his life. The dead look in her eyes that looked straight through him, the steps that were harsh and short… It was like the reincarnation of his own helplessness, hopelessness, and lack of faith in anything and everything; even the neon god so many others could blindly follow. So he walked away. It was a decision made in a moment of weakness.
With his back to the others, the images of the girl and himself and Buford staring down at him burned through his eyes with a searing flame of rage. It was rage that he could not face this girl who was going through hell, rage that he could ever let Buford hurt him the way he did and rage that the man who hurt this little girl ever dared to.
It was the little things that affected him the most when others would never guess they would. Instead of helping Callie, he was in the bathroom; throwing up like there was no tomorrow. But he wasn't surrounded by normal people. The people down the hall were trained to see every nuance in behavior, every aberrant detail. There was a knock on the door a minute later. Hotch, his surrogate mentor for Guidian. His stomach was in knots but he did what he thought he had to do; steal his face, his emotions, everything necessary to look ok even if he couldn't be ok.
5 hours later and Morgan was the only person not to have tried talking with her. He felt like a coward but every time he thought about talking to her and revisiting his past, he felt like throwing up again. Hotch had refrained from asking him to do it. He recognized that faraway look that stole Morgan's face when he was flashing back. Yet he also knew that Morgan was a strong person, stronger than he had ever been, and that he might be the only one who could reach this girl.
The team was getting antsy. They had so little to go on that a profile was near impossible without an exorbitant amount of guess work. The longer they went without the information they needed, the further away the monster pedophile got. Hotch needed Morgan to step up no matter hard it would be.
He stood beside Morgan and watched Callie through the window. Still nothing. "You should try talking to her." He said finally. Morgan's face tensed up. Neither man spoke for awhile. To Hotch it felt wrong to rush the moment.
Finally Morgan moved and when he did it was the small movement of a little boy trying not to attract attention to himself. He moved around Hotch and to the door into the holding room. Maybe it was his shrunken figure or the softness of his movements that caused Callie to look up, even just with her eyes. When Hotch had entered the room, she had screamed a bloodcurdling scream on and on until Hotch was forced to back out and leave. But now she did nothing as Morgan entered.
He went until he was 5 paces away from the girl in the corner and stopped. He could feel the exact moment when she was on the brink of breaking and becoming on edge and stopped right before it. He sat down with his back against the wall and rested his arms on his knees. He did not face her but she was facing him. It was a technique he had learned in his hometown. A stray dog running loose could become a danger to itself and others around it if it wasn't taken care of. And there's only one way to approach a scared dog. Never face it or become confrontational, and it will start to believe that it wants to come to you instead of the other way around.
"I know what he did to you." He said finally but he knew she didn't understand.
"I know you're scared. I know that every time you've been with another human being in the past few years it's been a negative experience." Still she said nothing. He could feel the intensity with which she held shoulders and the jerking of her hands as she tried to make them stop shaking. It felt like his own throat was closing. His past wasn't a card to be played but it was as much for himself as for her when he spoke again. "I've Been there too."
Her head jerked almost imperceptibly but it was enough. Morgan knew he had hooked her interest. He left the silence open ended. She didn't speak but she was waiting for more.