A/N: This little piece is extremly unsual for me on so many levels. For one I usually do not write darker stuff, I'm all for fun and humor and the light things in stories. For two, in all the years I've written fanfiction - which is seven years - I never wrote anything pre- or post-ep. And last but not least I am all about couples, Morgan/garcia all the way - so writing a chracter-centered piece is something that never came up. But I loved the Season six premier, and this little piece was meant to be something else, but turned a bit dark for me to pull this around again without turning into multi-chapters. So I wrote it as a Morgan-centered piece. let me know ...
This also has major spoilers for the Season Six Premier. So if you do not want to be spoilt, do not read.
It was the worst any of them had ever seen and the moment the case was finished and they were heading back home, all of them knew that they hopefully would never again have to see anything similar.
It all had left lasting impression on them, but all knew that the one with the biggest issues about this case was Morgan, due to his personal involvement and the fact that he had been a witness to Spicer's murder and his daughter's abduction. Now the girl didn't have anyone left anymore, was robbed of her childhood and innocence and left with probably a million questions no one had the answers to. Ellie's aunt had said earlier it had been unfair for Morgan that he was made to make that promise, but a lot of things had been unfair with this case. It was unfair for Ellie to be left alone in this world now, without a father or a her loving aunt, it had been unfair that JJ had been pushed by Hotch into Hostage negotiations, unfair for Detective Spicer to lose his life in order to protect his daughter from a psycho, unfair that this all was caused forty years earlier by someone who clearly was unfit to be a mother in the first place.
It was a case guided by unfairness, and neither of them could do anything about it. In a lot of ways Ellie Spicer was a lot like Derek Morgan. He as well had to witness his father being shot in front of him, his innocence and childhood taken away by that and later again by Buford, and Morgan could relate with the little girl on more levels than most.
This case had pushed him to his limits in a lot of ways. It made him question his job all over again, made him wonder whether he, as a profiler, would make any difference to the world. What good was it if they locked the psychos away after they went on a killing spree? Yes, they saved the lives of those who could have been next, but the ones that were killed couldn't be helped any longer.
This case had been so bad that even Garcia got her head chewed off shortly, something that had never happened before. Usually she was doing the exact opposite for him. She showed him that little bit of light when everything went dark, she was that bit cheerfulness during a depression. He just didn't yell at her. Ever. So when he did and then didn't feel even the slightest sorry afterwards right away he knew something was wrong. He just … couldn't care for anything and anyone else in that moment that Ellie and her well-being.
During the five hour flight back to Virginia he sat the furthest away from the team, needing just this distance right now, making sense of the events – not that there was much to make sense of, since it was a pointless crime, with victims that had to die for some sort of entertainment or revenge even.
On some days, it all was just a waste. Why do a job when you can't stop a guy like Flynn before it is too late? Why go through the mind of these guys when knowing that there will always be one victim they can't safe, one victim they are too late for saving?
He spent five hours wondering, pondering, thinking. While the rest of the team seemed to have been able to find some sleep for a few blissful hours Morgan was wide awake, his mind racing a million miles a minute, not able to just stop. And who was he kidding? He always knew there wouldn't be many bright and sunny moments with this job. It might not have been printed in bold, black writing on his contract, but it was visible for anyone that a job like a profiler was bringing you to the darkest and worst places of the mind of another human being, meeting others on the worst day of their life.
And just when the thoughts started to get a whole notch deeper his mind all of a sudden was flooded with pictures of a whole different kind of people, the ones they saved. There might not have been as many as people they caught, but they were enough to give his mind a break for a moment.
At this stage he also had to realize that things might have become unfair again. Because he would never stop what he is doing, never stop being a profiler, never stop chasing these guys down. And if it was just for one more life they could save. For one more family they could reunite, for one sister to see her brother again, for a father to hold his daughter again, for a husband to kiss his wife once more. It might not have been big gestures, but it were important ones. Ones that should pull him through for another few years and ones that were worth protecting and fighting for.