Hunter Hunted

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.

This is an idea I had a while ago and has taken a while to get it ready to post. It hasn't gone as I originally planned, but I hope it has taken the right path.

. . . . . . .

"Hunting is not a sport.

In a sport, both sides should know they're in the game."

Paul Rodriguez

. . . . . . .

One day he was going to learn. Derek considered himself an intelligent man, yet he still had trouble with the basic equation: party hard, plus drink lots, equals pounding head. It wasn't as if you needed to be a Reid like genius to figure that one out, yet over the years it had eluded him, time and time again.

Swinging by the kitchen area, as he entered the bullpen, Derek was pleased to see a pot full of strong black coffee. He poured himself two. Making his way over to his tidy desk, he placed the steaming mugs down and dumped everything else on the floor.

Prentiss and Reid lifted their heads from their mountains of files; Emily grimaced in empathy for her colleague, while Reid decided to keep his head down.

"That good a weekend, I know Hotch insisted we all needed some R&R, but there are such things as limits," Emily couldn't help but smirk at his obvious agony.

Morgan raised his head slowly, as if even the slightest movement caused him a multitude of pain. He glared sideways at Prentiss, wishing she would go away, along with everyone else in the room. He'd had hangovers before, hell, who hadn't? But this was something else. He prided himself on not letting his personal life interfere with his work, but right now he could barely focus on the mug in his hand, let alone the files piled high beside him. He let out an involuntary groan, and then rested his head on his desk. Get a grip.

. . . . . . .

It had been a rollercoaster weekend.

The team had got back late Thursday from a horrific case. It was one of those cases that got under his skin, no matter what he did, it was there nagging at him. The team had caught the UNSUBs, a husband and wife team who had been kidnapping young boys. The sick details of what they had done to the innocent victims had etched itself on Derek's mind. Morgan had never been able to compartmentalise as well as Prentiss, and this one brought back memories he preferred to keep deeply buried.

Hotch appreciated the team had taken the case hard. Finding the broken bodies of the helpless children had left them all reeling. They were all human, sometimes people forgot that. He'd been given the green light to grant everyone a long weekend, when they left the building Thursday Hotch didn't want to see them until Monday morning. After all he had his own boy to go home to, one that was about to get an extra day off school, so they could spend it together.

Garcia was more than aware of her Adonis's past. She was the one he had turned to when everything that had happened in Chicago had been revealed, years ago. She also knew that under his 'Alpha male' exterior was the kindest and most sensitive man she had ever met. One look at him on that Thursday night, when they got back to the bullpen, was all she had needed to set her course of action; TLC, and he needed lots of it. So they'd collected Clooney and headed back to his.

Although they were both tired, they hadn't slept. They'd talked, for hours, until the sun rose to herald a new day. Morgan had been so glad of his Baby Girl's company. He was eternally grateful for the way she could fix him, like no-one else could. He was damaged goods, but not with her. She could usually wipe his mind, take it all away; make his life normal again, but not this time. They spent the day together, taking Clooney for a long walk, watching a movie, dozing in each others' arms on the couch. Yet this time none of it worked.

His mind was set; plan B. The option he had always relied on prior to Penelope entering his life, and for the odd occasion when even she couldn't work her magic. Go out and get blind drunk. Not like his usual party hard weekends, really on a mission to kill a few gray cells, hopefully the ones that held the imagines of abused and mutilated bodies.

So Friday night he had gone out. Not met with the rest of the team, he needed space. Plus he didn't want his 'Solace' to see him like this. Some things are best kept secret, even from your best friend. He hit some of his old haunts, places he hadn't needed to visit in a long time. Places where the drinks were cheap and the girls were after the same thing he was. He was out for no frills sex, hard and meaningless, with no complications; anything to clear his constantly spinning mind. If the alcohol failed to work then physical exhaustion might. This was about obliterating memories not creating them.

He hadn't failed to pull. It hadn't taken him any effort. He'd been sat at the bar studying the empty bottle of beer in front of him, considering whether to carry on with beer or move onto Jack when the raven haired beauty had sat next to him. Offering to buy her a drink, they chatted, superficial conversation, as neither was interested in what the other was saying. Both made it clear they had one thing on their mind. Drinks led to dancing, to kissing, to a cab back to hers. The details were blurred, though he didn't remember drinking that much; must have been more than he thought.

Night turned to day once more, as Morgan watched the sun rise through her window, he was glad for the numbing effect of lack of sleep. He hoped that when he finally crashed he would be so exhausted he would sleep, and not dream. It was the dreams that scared him most.

Turning in bed to face the stranger, there was something vaguely familiar about her. He brushed the thought aside as she climbed on top of him. He'd no plans for the day, so laid back and enjoyed it.

The two spent the weekend together; a mirage of bitter alcohol and sinful sex, barely stopping to consume anything other than liquor and each other. Morgan hadn't done anything so animalistic in a long time, as Sunday afternoon rolled round he needed to leave. Effortlessly he slid out of her bed.

As he left her apartment a moment of guilt crept over him, he turned. She was standing in her bedroom doorway.

"Where do you think you're going?" she cooed.

Morgan briefly wondered if that was the most she had said to him in the last twenty-four hours.

"Home."

She looked daggers at him. He shut the door as he left.

Back home he crashed, sleeping soundly until 7pm. He woke to the sound of his doorbell. It sounded frantic. Opening the door, bleary eyed, he came face to face with her. Without chance to invite her in, she was on him, knocking him back against the wall. If he'd wanted, he could have had her out within seconds, but why turn a good thing down? He let her devour him inch by inch. He was so lusted out that it didn't even cross his mind how she had found him.

. . . . . .

Of course, he knew now he should have shown her the door. He was suffering for a ridiculous weekend, he'd have been better of channelling his energy into one of his renovation projects. At least then he'd have come back to work feeling better than he did when he left the building on Thursday, not worse. Lifting his head, he downed both mugs of coffee and switched on his computer. Feeling sorry for himself was getting him nowhere. He'd made a crap decision, live with it.