AN: Written for my dear friend, Sangreal7, who cried and cheered her way through the premiere with me 3000 miles apart, then told me she'd love me to write Derek's homecoming. Betty-Anne, your wish is my thrill. Love ya!
Burning Bright
Derek sat back in the cream colored seats of the BAU jet, staring forward into space. He was trying his best not to think; he'd done so much of that over the past three days, enough to last a lifetime. His head ached, although not just from thinking.
His fingertips went up to touch the steristripped wound above his eyebrow and he winced at how sore it felt. He'd told the paramedic he didn't want to get checked out; there'd been too much at stake for him to take care of himself. There was a little girl who needed him, and a promise he'd made to her father. No doubt about it. He'd made the right decision.
Moving the sleeve of his shirt, he checked the time on his big gold watch. It was late, nearly eight PM. He was now wearing a maroon, long sleeved shirt and black jeans, and a pair of white sneakers. He was glad he had time to change and take a quick shower before they boarded the jet. His other clothes had the unmistakable odor of gunshot residue, along with traces of his blood and the blood of Matt Spicer.
He sighed, his brain catching up to his body yet again. In twenty-four hours time, he'd been assaulted, he'd watched an officer needlessly die, and he'd shot a man at point blank range.
And he was glad he'd did it. Few things felt better than pulling that trigger.
Right after, he'd held a little girl- a beautiful, brave little girl- who lost every thing, every one, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.
No one sat by him on the plane. His mood encircled him like a dark cape. His other team members gave him a wide berth, and he was grateful that they did. He wasn't in the mood to discuss anything with anybody, not even family. He'd even snapped at the person closest to him in the world. He'd rarely ever raised his voice to his Baby Girl, much less snapped at her.
No. He wasn't fit for human consumption. He needed to be by himself for awhile, and right now, he wanted some peace, somewhere, somehow, and he knew he wasn't going to get it. He'd have to settle for the oblivion that sleep sometimes gave him. It had been over twenty-four hours since he'd slept. Tucking his ear buds in his ears, he leaned back in the comfortable seat he knew so well, closed his eyes, and listened to music.
The plane landed without incident back in Quantico. Derek opened his eyes. He was still bone tired and exhausted. It didn't feel like he'd slept even a minute.
"You got a ride home?" Prentiss asked, stopping by his seat, her go bag draped over her shoulder.
"Yeah. My cycle is parked here," he answered, standing up.
"I was wondering if you were okay to drive," she asked, giving him the once over. "You look kind of woozy, and you took a big knock on the noggin."
He snorted. "I'm fine."
"Maybe I should follow-"
She stopped when he rolled his eyes at her.
She gave him a sarcastic grin, shaking her head. "Alright, tough guy. Have it your way."
Emily started to exit the plane.
"Prentiss," he called out.
She turned back to look at him.
"Thanks."
She gave a small, but genuine smile. "See you two days from now."
Derek sighed, then picked up his bag, and headed to the tarmac.
For the first time in his life, Derek was driving a little under the speed limit on the way back to his house. He figured he'd better play it safe. If he got in an accident on the way home, he'd never hear the end of it from Prentiss.
As he drove up his street, he noticed there were lights on in a couple rooms of his house. He didn't set the light timer before he left for work, and he didn't leave any lights on. He frowned for a moment, until he noticed Esther parked in the alleyway behind his house.
And for the first time in two days, he smiled.
He parked his bike, hung up his helmet, and entered the back door. He was purposefully quiet as he crept into his house. There, on the couch, lay Penelope Garcia, complete in flouncy, colorful skirt and bright pink shirt, snoring away. It was late- or rather, early- so he wasn't surprised to see her sleeping.
He squatted down by her side, and brushed the hair that was covering her cheek behind her ear.
She opened her eyes, then smiled up at him. "Hot Stuff! Welcome home."
She made a motion like she was trying to sit up. Derek chuckled and tugged her to a seated position. "Baby Girl. It's two AM."
"I know," she replied, rubbing her eyes with her closed fists. "I said I'd leave the light on for you." She reached the coffee table next to her, put on her funky glasses, and then beamed at him. "I'm the Motel Six of best friends."
"Silly girl." He sat next to her on the couch.
They were quiet for a moment, and Derek found he enjoyed the feeling, just siting there, being with her. There was something about Penelope, something that wasn't tangible, yet was so real, it astounded him. He realized what it was then. That feeling he had with her was what he was searching for.
Blissful peace.
He had it when he talked to her, he had it when he was with her. If he wasn't so stubborn, fighting to fix the injustice by himself, he would've seen it when he'd called.
He owed her a much bigger apology. He ought to get on his hands and knees and beg forgiveness.
He turned to look at her, his heart in his eyes. "Baby, about what I said-"
She interrupted quickly. "Love bug, it's alright. You were tired, injured, angry, and sad. You're human; you snapped."
Her sympathetic eyes caused his stomach to clench. He needed to get this out, needed to tell her how sorry he really was.
"No, it's not alright. I was upset and I took it out on you. I shouldn't ever do that." He reached for her hand and kissed it. "It's not fair, and you don't deserve that."
"No, sweetness, it isn't," she said, squeezing his hand with hers, " and I don't. But I understand. We're here for each other, Derek. I've leaned on you, you can lean on me. It's reciprocal. You don't always have to keep your cool, you don't always have to be an agent or the tough guy."
Putting her hands on his face, she smiled up at him, her warm, beautiful smile he loved so much. "You just need to be Derek Morgan when you're with me."
He swallowed hard, and turned his face to kiss her palms. She patted his cheek, then reached her hand down to his.
They sat quietly for a while, and he looked down at their tightly joined hands, feeling the knot in his chest and his stomach that he'd had for two days start to unravel.
"I don't deserve you," he whispered fiercely.
"You don't," she answered back in a sing song tone that made him chuckle. "Don't do it again."
He smiled. He'd try his damnedest not to, but he knew he'd probably screw up again... and she'd still be waiting, the light of her friendship burning bright. "I won't."
She grinned at him again, then squeezed his hand. "I kinda love you, Derek Morgan."
He squeezed her hand and knew he meant it with all his heart. "I kinda love you, too, Penelope Garcia."