Chapter 1

Hello my lovelies! I am back and better than ever with another story! I must warn you, this one will get dark (you should be used to that by now though…I hope) and twisty (anyone get it? Greys Anatomy? No? Ok, just me.) so prepare yourselves. Don't say I didn't warn you ;)

"When you light a candle, you also cast a shadow"

-Ursula K. Le Guin

243 days. 5840 hours. 350400 minutes. Eight months is quite a long a time to be without your best friend. No, it's not natural. The person you trust with all your life, the one person who you look at and they just know. It seems so unnatural and unfair that the universe can take them away so, so easily. It is scary, really. To think how fast a life can be taken. Which is why when you get a second chance, you take it. You grab onto it with both hands and never let go. But when is it too late to grab on? When you're stumbling over your feet, desperate to grab on, to cling to your life. What happens when you only grab it with one hand? One finger? Can you really get your second chance? Tonight, he'd find out. He'd get his best friend back.

Derek walked up to the front door of the house followed by the SWAT team. He held us his finger to his lips. We stay quiet. He can't know we're here. The message was heard by the officers, nobody moved unless Derek instructed them too.

Hotch and Rossi had their own team at the back of the house. Hotch signaled for two of the officers to clear the small shed at the back right corner of the property. He glanced at Rossi quickly who held up his gun, ready to go in.

Hotch lifted the small microphone to his mouth. "Move in."

Instantly, Derek kicked in the thin wooden door, the wood splintering at the contact.

"William Parks, FBI!" Multiple voices echoed throughout the dark house, each voice towering over the next.

The house seemed empty. Each room had been cleared and there was no sign of Parks, or anyone for that matter. Hotch had pressed his lips into a thin line, "Maybe Garcia got the wrong address?"

Derek ran his hand over his head, "No man, she's never got it wrong. It's not possible. She's here, somewhere, I know it."

"Reid, nobody's here. Is there anything else?" Rossi asked through his headset.

"Hold on," papers shuffled and they could hear marker being drawn on paper, "there's a shed, back right of the property—"

"I've already got two officers there." Hotch said.

"C'mon, kid, anything?"

Just before their boy genius could answer, a voice cracked through the radio. "Agents, we've got something in the shed."

The three took off running towards the back door. The cool wind whipped them in the face, as if the universe was, once again, against them. Derek cursed under his breath as the frigid wind bit at his face, almost strong enough to hinder his running. They pushed through and eventually made it to the small shed where they found the two officers shining a flashlight down on a handle.

"It was under the rug, almost tripped over the damn handle."

"Must be an underground cellar." Rossi suggested. The perfect place to hold someone for eight months

"What're we waiting for?" Derek bent down and flung the small door open. "Let's go." He said as he had his gun drawn and started slowly down the creaky stairs.

Shining his flashlight around the small room, he landed on a small figure, curled up in the corner. She looked up briefly at the three men, squinting against the harsh light, before she tucked her head back in her knees.

Morgan holstered his gun, looking back at Hotch and Rossi to see them doing the same.

"JJ, we got her." Hotch breathed into the radio

Cautiously, Morgan walked towards the shivering woman. Her pale skin glistened in the dim light. He noted she was wearing nothing but an oversized tshirt, if it could still be considered a shirt. It was draped over her shoulders and was torn in multiple spots, revealing the bruised skin beneath it.

He crouched down when he was only a few feet away from her, holding up his hands in front of himself. They'd been trained in this. Always show the victim your hands, never make sudden movements, and do not, at all costs, touch them. But somehow, somehow this felt different. It felt so wrong and unnatural.

"Hey, princess, it's me. Derek." He began slowly scooting closer and paused when she let out a low cry, something so unexpected it stopped him in his tracks.

"Okay, okay. It's okay, you're safe. I'm not going to hurt you," he held up his hands directly in front of his face, "see?"

Rossi shook his head in disbelief. "Jesus. She doesn't know who we are."

Derek leaned closer to her, searching her face and body for any signs of recognition. He found none. Not a drop of recognition was in her body. She had no idea who he was. He might as well be her abductor, it made no difference to her.

"Why don't we get outta here, huh?" He said softly. Wracking his brain for a memory that maybe could help her remember, it came to him. "Princess, remember, remember you promised to see Cat's Cradle with me. Kurt Vonnegut, remember?"

She raised her head, her eyes narrowing as she looked him over. Finally, relief flooded into her veins, filling every nook and cranny in her body.

"M—Morgan?"

"Yes, baby. It's me. You're safe."

Uncurling herself, she scrambled into his chest. She flung her body into his, wrapping her hands around his back and gripped onto his shirt for dear life. He held onto her, stroking her raven hair and rubbed small circles on her back as she hurried her head into his chest. "It's okay, you're okay."

Finally, he had his best friend back.

Eh? How was it? Should I continue? Let me know in the reviews!