Title: Wired Over the Thoughts I've Dialed
Rating: PG-13. A bit of angst followed by a hint of fluff?
Pairing: Morgan/Reid.
Summary: They made mistakes, it happened.
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds, nor any of the characters mentioned.
Wired Over the Thoughts I've Dialed
They made mistakes, it happened. Just because their job was important didn't exempt them from being human. Derek wished it did sometimes, wished it would take away the guilt that failing caused each and everyone of them. People were saved because of their actions. This time, however, they were just too late, and it cost three innocent people their lives. Derek felt responsible.
They all did.
The pain in his back rippled through him as he attempted to stand, and he was instantly reminded of the beating he had took not two days. For what it was worth, Derek felt as though he deserved it; all of it. The pain, the doubt, and the guilt, he deserved it all. Derek was tired of feeling this way, and he was fearful that it would never come to an end. He would never be able to shake off the nightmares that plagued him so vehemently.
The agent couldn't remember the last time he had been able to rest peacefully. He remembered the conversation he had had with Reid a long time ago revolving around the same exact subject, and it made him crave the other mans companionship. Derek shook his head, staring at his half empty bottle of beer, remembering how he had severed that once budding friendship. Just like everything else, it had been his fault. He was too discourteous with the other man, placing him at a distance when he realized Reid had a high statistical risk for dying out in the field, and you didn't have to be a genius to know that.
Why did he have to be such a brute, though?
Reid only wanted to make Derek feel better, which usually only served to make him feel worse. Derek was running out of outlets to take his frustrations on. There was no amount of commercial properties to sustain his wild thoughts. There was no comfort in drinking, it only made him feel more agitated, both with himself and the world. There was no talking to his immediate family about all the horrors of his job, he would never place that on them; open them up to what the real world looked like.
What people were truly capable of.
The icepack he held to the swollen left side of his face hardly did him any good. The gun that had jammed was used to beat his face in, and no amount of struggling had freed him from the rope that had bound him. "Sadistic son of a bitch," Derek mumbled under his breath as he hobbled into his kitchen, placing the melting icepack back into the freezer. Derek stared down at his feet for a long moment, wondering if this feeling would ever leave him. Tomorrow he was suppose to teach a self defense class at noon, his first in quite some time, but that would have to be postponed.
Who would take advice from a man with a bashed mug and messed up back seriously?
Derek had tried everything in his power to save those girls, he really had, but one by one, he had to watch them all die. Their anxious and terrorized expressions the only thing he could see when he closed his eyes. Derek hadn't slept in over two days, too afraid to sleep. His mind was exhausted, he thought he would drop dead soon; he really hoped that he would. Derek mocked himself, what happened to the big strong guy who pulled himself together and compartmentalize? Even the strongest of men could be brought down to their knees.
He wouldn't pray to God, that hadn't gotten him anywhere. Besides, praying didn't seem anywhere near enough for what he needed. No, he needed a change. Derek just couldn't figure out what that change was yet. Leaving the BAU was not an option, he had invested too much to just turn around and never come back. How many of them had tried that? And how many of them had failed?
A loud rapping came to his front door, and Derek froze where he stood. This was not a good time for company. Derek walked slowly to the entrance of his house, telling Clooney to settle down, and that daddy would handle it. Through the window framed into the door, Derek could see Reid's hesitant face. He looked afraid, but most of all, he looked lost.
Derek opened the solid wood frame, not welcoming Reid in, but not turning him away either. Reid waved at him awkwardly, holding a bag in his other. Derek, finally coming to his senses, allowed Reid in. Reid set the bad he had brought on a small table that resided near the entrance of the house. Turning towards Derek, he finally found the courage to speak.
"Garcia sent me with some medical supplies," he said, pulling out what looked like bandages, rolls of gauze and antibiotics.
"You sure she didn't just send you to see if I was still sane?" Derek bit.
Reid stared at him, seemingly unaffected. "No, she sent me here for that, too."
Derek marveled at the man that stood before him for a moment, wondering if it was really Reid. The Reid he knew would shy away from confrontation if he could help it, not willing to move towards it unless he absolutely had to. Derek frowned at him, but decided he was too damn tired to fight him off. Reid ordered him to the living room, and Derek couldn't understand why Reid was being so demanding. But more than that, Derek couldn't understand why he was complying with the kids demands in the first place.
"Shirt, off," Reid said all too nonchalant, as if it was nothing to tell someone, to tell his team mate, to remove an article of clothing.
"Excuse me, but I don't remember you being my nurse," Derek retorted, a sense of fight flaring.
"No, of course I'm not. You won't allow a professional to care for you. I'm not a professional, and I'm also not leaving until your bandages are changed."
"I don't know who the hell you think you are, but..."
"I'm your coworker, Morgan. I would have liked to have been your friend at one point, too. I also happen to care whether you're okay or not. So, please, stop with the aggression, you're not scaring me," Spencer interrupted, a single hand raised in the air as if to stop Derek from talking.
It was affective.
Derek did as told, removing the loose tee shirt he had worn for the past three days. Each movement causing him more and more discomfort and pain as the wounds and deep gashes along his back stretched across the contours of his body. Reid did his best at keeping a mask of indifference, but his eyes ultimately betrayed him in the end. Derek hoped that he would never live to see the day the light faded from within those eyes. That would be the ultimate tragedy. They were the floodgate to his soul, what allowed others to tell that he was, in fact, still there; still with them.
"Your wounds look really bad, Morgan," Spencer spoke, worry and shock laced in the sudden hitch of his voice.
Derek hadn't been taking care of himself, too busy trying to destroy every trace of himself there was. Spencer, realizing the seriousness of the situation, failed to notice that his hands had begun to shake. This most definitely was not the Morgan he knew, whoever this was, was a shell of the man he had worked with for all of these years.
Reid retrieved a series of wash cloths, and filled a large bowl with warm water. Derek moved to a chair in his kitchen, back exposed, but he didn't feel threatened, not by Reid. The younger agent wiped along one of Derek's wounds, being as gentle as he possibly could in the situation. Reid's hand still trembled slightly, and Derek thought it unfair to put him through this. Derek wanted him to stop, to not put himself in this situation.
"Kid, you can stop. I'll go to the doctors tomorrow, or the emergency room."
"No—no. I just, why? You would never allow anyone to do this to themselves. Why are you doing this to yourself, Morgan?" Reid sounded torn inside, and it pained Derek greatly.
"It's not the same as taking care of everyone, Kid. I care for everyone...everyone but myself."
"I'm not going to allow this," Reid said firmly.
"Allow what?" Derek inquired daringly, turning his head to stare at the other man.
Reid stared right back. "For you to be so...dumb! I'm not going to allow you to suffer just because you think you should."
"Stop acting like you're my mother!" Derek yelled, angry.
"Then stop acting like a victim!"
Reid stunned them both, but would not apologize. If Morgan wanted tough love, absolutely needed it, then Spencer wold deliver. Derek wasn't going to intimidate him, or run him off. He had done that one too many times for Spencer to be afraid anymore, and right now, Morgan's bark was a lot bigger than his bite.
"Don't touch me!" he accosted, feeling backed into a corner.
"I won't leave until I know your wounds are cleaned and freshly bandaged."
"I'll call the cops."
"Good, and when they get here, I'll tell them of your current mental and physical state, and watch as they escort you to the hospital."
After two hours of silence, and three bottles of iodine, Spencer was done bandaging Morgan's back. All that was left was a nasty cut along Morgan's cheek and the bottom part of his chin. It was hard to see him so physically wounded, but it was even harder to see his current mental state. In that moment, Spencer made a vow not to let him slip away. No matter how hard things got,Spencer would not leave his side for as long as Morgan needed him.
"How bad does your face hurt?" Spencer questioned, not expecting an answer.
"Bad," Morgan replied as Spencer used extra precaution.
"I don't feel bad for shooting him," Spencer admitted, causing Morgan's eyes to open and focus in on him.
"What?"
"Normally, when I have to shoot someone, no matter how evil they might be, I still get a knot in my chest. Like, I'm playing god or something similar. I hate that feeling, it haunts me most of the time. I didn't feel that way when I shot him. All I could focus on, see in my head, was how bad he was torturing you...slowly killing you, and I didn't give it a moments hesitation."
Derek didn't know what to say, or how to respond, or how Reid would want him to respond. Derek couldn't say that he had never felt the same, though. He had. When Hankel was torturing Reid, Spencer, he was torturing Derek, too. All Derek could think of was getting his hands on Tobias Hankel. Reid had beat him to it.
"I don't...know how to respond, Kid."
"You don't have to. I mean, I don't expect you to," Reid admitted.
"Thanks," Derek settled on, hoping that Reid would understand where he was coming from. Reid smiled, a bit reserved, with his eyes downcast, but he understood. Derek knew he did. In his own little way, he always had.
"Well, you've pieced me back together, Doc. Done for the night?"
"Will you promise to try and get some rest. I'll understand if you can't, really, but can you promise to at least try?"
Derek stared at Reid. It was so easy to see their differences, there were so many, but it was difficult to recall all of their similarities. If there was anyone who could understand the night terrors, the insomnia and the restless nights, it was Spencer Reid.
Nothing more was said as Reid prepared to leave, cleaning up as he went. Soon, he was gone, and as Derek laid in bed, all he could really think of was him. The time shared between them, their collective misery. No matter how hard Derek would push him, Reid never broke. No matter how far Derek tried to distance them, Reid always found a way to fill in the gap. Reid did everything in his power to reassure Derek that he wasn't alone.
Four hours passed before Derek had realized he had fallen asleep. The fact that a bad memory hadn't touched his sleep was profound. Stretching, Derek still hurt throughout the majority of his body, but he didn't feel as bad. In fact, his mind felt much clearer than it had in a long while. Reid, he realized, was the culprit for all of this.
"Dark Chocolate?"
Garcia's voice wafted throughout his house, reaching his ears. He had almost forgotten that he had given the woman a key to his house. Derek responded, and within a few moments, Garcia was there. She looked relieved to see him actually in bed instead of making his situation worse. Derek smiled at her, hissing slightly as he did so.
"What time is it, Baby Girl?"
"Six in the am, love."
A lot of time had elapsed since Reid had been at his house. "I'm surprised Boy Wonder isn't with you," he commented, looking pass where Garcia stood.
"He might be later...it took a lot out of him yesterday, Dove," Garcia spoke sadly.
"Why?" Derek asked, unable to stop himself.
"What do you mean, why? He hated seeing you like that, Derek. It bothered him to the point he felt like crying. And while I couldn't physically see him over the phone, I think he was." Derek had never seen Reid cry, not even when he was really down and out. This disturbed Derek, and he tried, in vain, to think of something, anything else.
"I brought you food. Lots and lots of food, and I expect you to eat it," Garcia said stern yet lovingly.
"Yes, Ma'am."
Garcia kept him company as long as she could, but eventually, she had to go. Derek struggled to take a bath, but managed well enough on his own. After fighting to put a shirt on, he opted to remain in a pair of navy blue sweatpants. Clooney began to bark, and Derek could hear his doorbell sounding, no doubt in his mind as to who it was. The Reid Effect was still good as ever.
"Don't you think about biting him," Derek warned. Clooney, heeding his masters warning, retreated to the kitchen where his bed was located.
Derek opened the door, and out of no where said, "I slept last night," as though it were some momentous confession that had passed through his very lips.
"Good," Reid responded, a wide grin to his face at the news. He was genuinely happy.
"I cleaned myself up today, so you don't have to do that again."
"That's okay. I just came to visit, if that's okay? I mean, after yesterday..."
"Kid, come inside before my neighbors call the cops."
"Oh, right," Reid murmured, rather embarrassed by his babbling.
Derek laughed, causing a sharp pain through his face. A swipe of his hand indicated that his lip was bleeding. Reid went directly for the kitchen to obtain a wash cloth and an icepack. Clooney barked loudly at him, but Reid was quick to reprimand the pure bred. "Hey, stop that! Your dad's hurt, and I'm trying to help," he said, and Clooney immediately obeyed.
Derek smiled even though it hurt.
"Here," Reid spoke, pressing the cool cloth to Derek's mouth. The feeling was both nice and terrible.
"Thanks," he mumbled.
"This sucks," he added. "Why do we do this to ourselves?"
"Derek, try not to speak," Spencer cautioned.
"I'm serious, Spence, why do we do this?"
Spence. It seemed so natural.
"I don't think there's one answer to that question, Derek."
Derek. It sounded nice.
"I know. Well,whatever the reason, I'm glad that I've got someone who understands," Derek admitted, peering seriously into Spencer's eyes. The light swirling around in circles among the shimmering brown.
"Not all nights are horrible, just like not all thoughts lead to a dark place. You taught me that, and I believe in it. Believe in you. And if I have to, I'll remind you to believe in yourself. You give good advice."
"I do?"
"Most of the time," Spencer humored.
Elapsed Amount of Time
The night is long as unwelcome memories surface. Derek fights them off as best as he can, but ultimately can't. Wide awake, he lays in bed, and though the physical scars have since diminished, the mental lesions still lingered. A light turns on, not too bright, but bright enough to know that someone's there. Derek isn't alone.
A slender and yet strong hand places itself on Derek's forearm, lending warmth as well as support. Beautiful brown eyes are peeking up through a series of blankets, and Derek feels guilty for having woke him. Derek raises the hand, placing a kiss to the center of Spencer's palm. He wasn't alone, he reminded himself. Leaning over, Derek brushed his lips gently across Spencer's, instantly relaxing the both of them.
Nightmares, bad thoughts...they were all easier to combat with someone by his side. No, not just someone, Derek thought. Spencer.