"The more things a man is ashamed of, the more respectable he is."
-George Bernard Shaw
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Detectives Gordinski and Dennison led Carl Buford away in handcuffs. Derek didn't know what to say to Gideon and Hotch, who stood silently observing the scene. He was angry that they profiled his life and found out the one thing he never wanted anyone to know. He was angry at himself for keeping the secret all of these years. And mostly, he was ashamed. He could have saved other boys from Carl's abuse by speaking up. Damien Walters would still be alive. In his own way, he was as guilty as Buford.
As they left the Upward Youth Center, Derek struggled to keep his emotions in check. He asked Hotch to drop him off at his mother's. "I have to let her know this is over," he said quietly. He said nothing on the short ride home except to give his supervisor directions. He didn't look at him or Gideon as he got out of the police car. "Thanks," he muttered and made his way to his mother's front door without looking back.
Fran Morgan heard her son turn his key in the lock and rushed to greet him. "Oh, Baby," she said wrapping her arms around him. Sarah and Desiree came in from the kitchen when they heard their brother's voice. "It is all over. They have the man who killed that boy in custody," Derek told his family. "It was Carl Buford."
"What?" "You're joking." "Derek, what happened?" All three women were hugging him and firing questions at him. "Hey, we can talk about this tomorrow. I'm really tired. Ma, do you mind? I want to take a shower and go to bed." Derek was having trouble keeping his voice even. He wasn't as tired as he pretended. He just wanted to be left alone.
"Sure, Baby," Fran Morgan said, looking at her son with concern. She knew there was more than what he was saying, but she knew better than to push. Her boy would talk to her when he was ready.
Derek took a long shower. He felt dirty. He wanted to wash it all away, the humiliation, the rage, and the guilt. Especially, the God damned guilt. He dried off without as much as a glance at himself in the mirror. He turned out the lights and climbed into his childhood bed. In the darkness he covered his eyes with his arm and, for the first time in his adult life, he cried himself to sleep.