A/N: This story is a bit unusual for me, because all of my Criminal Minds stories have so far all been Reid-centric (I love that genius to death!) but this one's definitely Morgan-centric – with a healthy dose of our boy-genius because I could never leave him out. This fic came about after watching how many times Morgan is there to reassure Reid; examples include Elle leaving, about Own savage and Adam, about his fear of schizophrenia. He's always there for Reid. So I thought it would be nice to switch it around and show a time when Reid was there for Morgan. This takes place after Profiler, Profiled, so spoilers obviously, and vague mention of events told by Morgan in Restoration. Also, warning for mentions of child molestation.
i won't ask if you're okay (i already know the answer)
"Are you okay?"
The question was said in a low, concerned tone, accompanied by a gentle hand on the shoulder. JJ's forehead was creased in worry, as she searched his face for a sign of reassurance.
Morgan forced a smile in her direction. He felt that if he heard the question are you okay come out of someone else's mouth again, he might just lose it.
"Yeah, JJ, I'm good." She still looked skeptical, and he covered her hand on his shoulder with his, trying to project a surety he did not feel. "Really," he said, and let his hand drop back to his side, "I'm alright."
She offered him a small smile, a slight nod, and took her hand off his shoulder as she grabbed the handle of her carry-on bag. "OK. Just…remember, we're all here for you."
"I appreciate it," said Morgan, when really all he wanted was for her – for all of them – to leave him alone. He knew they were trying to help, to support him, in their own way, but after the ordeal he'd gone through, he would rather be left to his own devices than have to listen to their constant inquiries of his wellbeing.
Are you okay? they all asked.
He had just faced the childhood monster that had forever haunted his nightmares. His past, his shame, had been bared right in front of them for everyone to see. Did they think he was okay? Why even ask?
Morgan brushed passed JJ, dragging his suitcase behind him as he boarded the jet. JJ boarded behind him, and after storing her bag in the compartment she went to take a seat near Prentiss and Reid. Prentiss was staring absently out the window while Reid was – surprise, surprise – immersed in a book he held in his lap. Both of them turned to glance at him as he passed, making his way to the back of the jet so he could sit by himself.
He didn't miss the concerned glances Prentiss and Reid shared, and knew that they were directed at him.
He tried to get comfortable in his seat. Like this was any other flight back home to Quantico, he pulled out his headphones, allowing the pounding of his music to vibrate through him and distract him from the thoughts swirling through his head, as the jet took off the ground, heading back to Virginia and leaving the city he grew up in behind.
But even the music blasting through the speakers couldn't drown out the sound of the demons in his head, the voice of the devil speaking in his mind. And his voice, as he finally confronted the ghost that had haunted him for so long.
All these years, I kept my mouth shut.
He had kept his silence. Never spoken up, never told anyone, and because of that, the monster had continued to be the hero. And because of that, had been allowed to continue to hurt people, in the same way he had been hurt, had manipulated the minds of the young and the vulnerable, all because scared Derek Morgan had been afraid to open his mouth, afraid to point the accusing finger.
I pulled you out of the gutter.
I pulled myself out of the gutter, all the way to the FBI, I did that!
He'd been so scared – so scared. Just a lost boy, putting on a confident front so no one could see between the cracks. He'd been given so much, had his slate wiped clean, a chance to make a life for himself – and he hadn't wanted to fall off the rope he was already so precariously dangling off of.
You sayin' I had nothin' to do with making you who you are?
The monster, despite being a monster, had pulled him back from the brink, had gathered up the shattered remains of his life and had pieced them back together again until they were recognizable as something, something new, something better – and in return had asked him to give away his innocence.
He gave and he gave, just so he could take. He built Derek up, and then he turned and beat him down.
No, Carl. I'm sayin' you had everything to do with making me who I am.
And didn't the truth of that just kill him inside? That no matter how many times he told himself this had been his decision, who he had decided he wanted to be, the truth of the matter remained that the only reason he was able to have the strength to push forward and overcome the obstacles in front of him, to be the man he was today, was because of his childhood tormentor.
Carl Buford, his mentor, his friend. A villain in the guise of a hero. He fooled everyone. Even Derek had never been able to see the real true face beneath the mask.
I never hurt you.
The jet was high up in the air now, and by looking out the window he could distantly see the ground and structures below. Morgan turned his MP3 up, in a last effort to drown out the voices. He squeezed his eyes closed, rested his head on the cool glass of the window.
You could have said no.
His jaw clenched. Hip hop continued to sound through his ears, but the only beat he could seem to hear was the pounding of his own heart. He tried not to delve into deeper memories – but as was often the case, trying not to think about it only caused him to be unable to think of anything else.
He remembered when Carl had taken him up to the cabin. He'd felt special, then – like Carl was sharing something with him no one else had the privilege to see. It made him sick now, thinking about how many different boys he must have taken up there.
He remembered Carl pouring him his first glass of wine, and how grown-up it had made him feel to share a drink with him. Like they weren't just student-and-mentor, but equals. He remembered his first sip of the drink had tasted nasty and bitter, but he had choked it down, determined Carl see him as an adult, not some delinquent kid.
And he remembered afterwards, in the pool. After the wine had made his brain just a bit buzzed. You better man up, boy. Look up to the sky.
"Morgan?" The light touch of a hand on his shoulder jolted him from his memories, and he jumped in his seat. Reid quickly retracted the hand from his shoulder with a start of his own at the unexpected reaction, a surprised squeak escaping his lips that Morgan knew he would later ever deny making.
Morgan removed his headphones from his ears so they lay around his neck, the music coming from the speakers barely audible. He turned to the younger man questioningly.
"Reid? What is it?"
Reid leaned away from him to sit on the edge of the seat next to Morgan. The book was absent from his hand now, so Morgan assumed he'd left it in his seat up with Prentiss and JJ. He bit the inside of his cheek, not looking very at ease with the situation.
"Nothing," he said with an uncomfortable shrug, shifting in the seat.
He looked awkward, Morgan realized. Not the kind of awkward people saw him as every day, but the kind of awkward he got when he was about to speak in front of a crowd of people and was afraid to open his mouth because he didn't know what to say.
"Well, what is it, then?" Morgan prompted, a bit more harshly than he meant to. "C'mon, genius, spit it out."
At this point, he wasn't sure if he wanted Reid to stay or was trying to get rid of him. He had wanted to be alone, but now he appreciated the distraction conversation brought.
Reid shrugged again. "I don't know, I just…your family was nice."
Morgan blinked at that out-of-the-blue topic. "—What?"
"Your family. They were really nice." What looked like the beginnings of a smirk began to form on Reid's lips. "They knew who I was. They said you talked about me."
Morgan could only shake his head, honestly stumped by the enigma that was sitting in front of him. "Reid, what are you doing?"
His smile dropped. He frowned, bewildered.
"Um. Having a conversation?"
Morgan frowned. "Yeah, but – about my family?"
He shrugged. "Why not?"
The confused frown deepened. "You're not gonna ask me about…you know…"
"Your mentor that used to molest you as a child?"
Morgan flinched.
Reid cringed, a grimace appearing on his face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean – that was blunt, wasn't it?"
Morgan sighed. "I just meant…you're not gonna ask me if I'm okay?"
Reid frowned. "Why would I do that?"
He sounded so adorably young and confused, and Derek had a sudden urge to reach out and tousle his hair, like an older brother might do.
He clamped down on the impulse. Reid wasn't his geeky little brother, depite how much he looked like one in those glasses of his.
"Why wouldn't you?" he countered. "Seems to be what everyone else can't stop themselves from asking." Gideon, Hotch, Prentiss, Garcia…all of them.
"But, what would be the point?" said Reid. He shifted positions to get more comfortable, crossing one leg over the other. "When people ask how are you they don't really want an answer. I mean, sure, I could ask if you were alright. You'd tell me you were fine, and I would nod, and we would both pretend it was the truth even though we'd both know you're lying.
"You're not fine," said Reid bluntly. "That's obvious. Who would be after that? And if you don't want to talk about it then fine, I'm not going to ask you to. That's not my place. You'll talk about it, on your own time. But that will be then. When you're ready."
Morgan stared at him, speechless. He had been struck silent by many things the kid had said before, but it had usually been because Reid was talking a billion words a minute about some freak subject that no human being should possibly know about, and it left the older profiler with no idea how to respond. Never had it been because he said something like this.
Reid was like the little brother he always wanted but never had. And doing this job, there had been many times when the world had repeatedly knocked Reid down and Morgan had stood him up and dusted him off. Never had it been the other way around – never had it needed to be before now.
"I…don't know what to say," he finally responded, still stunned.
Reid shrugged, with a small smile. "You don't have to say anything. That's kind of the point." His smile slipped, and his face became more serious. "Just know that…when you do want to talk…I'm here for you. If you want to. I mean, obviously you don't have to, or anything – "
Morgan laughed. "I know," he said, cutting off the beginning of his ramblings with a small smile. "Thanks, kid."
He shrugged. "Anytime."
There was a moment of silence, though it wasn't awkward. Then –
"So, wanna play cards?"
Morgan raised his eyebrows.
"It'll distract you…" the kid wheedled.
"Reid, you always win."
The genius huffed, pushing his glasses up his nose as he pulled a deck of cards from his pants' pocket. "Just because you're a sore loser…"
"I am not!" Morgan protested. He sat up straighter. "Fine, I'll play. And this time, I'll win."
He always said he was going to win.
He never won.
"You sure about that?" He was wearing a smug smirk. Reid was insecure when it came to most things, but when it came to cards, he couldn't be more confident in his ability. "Because just a warning, but I spent a fair amount of my childhood sneaking in and getting kicked out of casinos."
Reid shuffled the cards in his hands, beginning to deal them out. Morgan just leaned forward, hands folded, and grinned.
"Bring it on, pretty boy."
Reid won, of course. Smug bastard.
A/N: Please review. Thanks. And for those of you following my other Criminal Minds stories, I AM still working on them. The screen on my laptop broke about a month ago, and I only recently got it back from being fixed.