Disclaim...disclaim...disclaim...neither the characters or Criminal Minds are mine...
He Wanted, She Needed
Derek Morgan stares at the ceiling of his bedroom for a long time. The light is off as well as the bedside lamp, not even a light peeks from under the door of the master bathroom. He wants total darkness and silence. Clooney senses his master's need of silence and solitude so the aging hound is downstairs resting in front of his large water bowl instead of at the foot of the bed in between the silk sheets, where he normally would be.
Derek wants to be able to forget the horrors of the last three years. He wants his friends, his family from his family, to heal. He wants little Jack Hotchner's mother alive. He wants Hotch to be able to not fear that some other UnSub with a personal grudge will appear and alter the team's world. He wants to be able to not fear the same. He wants Reid to be able to live without statistics about mental illness hanging over his head, whether he inherited his mother's schizophrenia or developed something else entirely. He wants his baby girl to find her prince charming, but not if that prince is really an ugly toad in prince clothing whom eats bacon doughnuts.
He wants Rossi to be happy, whether that happy means a string of one night stands or a committed relationship, he just wants the older man happy. He sees himself in Rossi and it scares him that his years playing the field will end with him alone, only his career and few friendships he allowed himself to form, to keep him company. What is he worried about, because after all, he is already there. Simply earlier than Rossi with neither marriage or divorce under his belt, only notches on his bedpost, many many notches.
Although, Derek adores the new JJ, the more confident and capable Agent, he sometimes wants the old JJ back, the one who hasn't seen war. The one who hadn't had to protect her son from an insane psycho bitch only a few days before, because said bitch had abducted the four-year-old child and had imprisoned him in his own home.
Derek clenched his jaw as he remembered what had happened mere days before, which reminded him of the impromptu wedding, thus reminded him of the announcement that Emily was leaving.
Really, who in the hell, makes a snap decision about their career, their life in a matter of hours, and then in turn announces that decision at a friends wedding, a wedding that would not have happened if it were not for the hectic, tragic days they had had before it? He comes to the conclusion that one does not make that snap decision lightly. He hypothesizes that since she returned, she'd been trying to find a way to leave, and Clyde Easter's job offer was just what she needed to leave, to once again leave the team holding the bitter taste of betrayal, only this time all parties knew the score.
Derek is angry. He is hurt. He is betrayed. All of the feelings, he has tried to keep at bay the last day-and-a-half tumble over the mental block he set upon leaving the reception. It has taken him months to forgive her, to forgive Emily, JJ, and Hotch. Hotch was the first one and easiest to forgive, because Derek identified with him. If he, Derek, had been the Unit Chief, then the roles would have been reversed, with Derek making the decision to fake Emily's death, to betray everyone. It took a little more time to forgive JJ, because JJ had been there for most of his, the team's, their family's grieving process whereas Hotch had been in Pakistan and Emily wherever.
Emily. Emily, on the other hand, was only just completely forgiven, mere weeks ago as a matter of fact. Derek sensed from her return that she was not the same Emily. After what they'd all went through, no one was the same, but Emily was the most different. She was more aloof, even more distant than when she first joined the team after Elle. Derek rubs his right hand over his face as he refuses to go down the Elle road. Dealing with one tragic end of a partnership in a night is all he could handle. He had always had issues with keeping partners, as a cop it had been he could not bring himself to trust another, but as an Agent, perhaps he had trusted his partners too much.
He hears the sound of Clooney's bark before he hears the doorbell. His bare feet pads against the soft carpeting as he walks down the hall then staircase. He glances out the tinted stain glass window of the ornate door and growls in frustration, literally growls. Clooney quirks his head to the right as if to say that it is his place to growl and the master's place to open the door.
Although, Derek obviously does not understand what Clooney tries to communicate with the head tile, Derek opens the door and rudely stands there with it barely cracked, only opened enough for the doorframe and the edge of the door to frame his face.
"What?" He asks as a greeting. When there is no reply, he questions shortly, clearly irritated, "Emily, what do you want?"
"Derek," Emily whispers as she hugs her mid-section protectively. "Please, I'm sorry. I want to talk to you."
"Then talk," He replies brusquely. He can hear his Mama berating him for his lack of manners, but if he knew his Mama, and he did know his Mama, he knew that Fran Morgan, herself, would give Emily Prentiss the what-for over her past behavior, regardless of whether that behavior was for the greater good or not.
"Derek, please," She pleads, and perhaps it is, because he can see a trace of the old Emily in her blue eyes that he steps back and stands aside for her to enter his home.
He closes the door behind her and walks away. He calls for Clooney. The white hound places his long tail in between his hind legs and starts after his master, but pauses and glances backward at the sad raven-haired beauty as if that glance was an apology. Emily follows Clooney and the pair end up in the newly renovated kitchen.
Derek closes his eyes and swallows, before he looks at Emily, as if he was forcing himself to meet eye contact with her. "Beer? Water? Tea? OJ?"
"Water," She replies quietly as she takes a seat at the breakfast bar.
He opens the double door refrigerator and retrieves two bottles of filtered spring water. He places hers on the counter of the bar and slides it toward her. He makes no movement to join her on the other side of the bar, or to sit, he chooses to stand, leaving not only the breakfast bar counter, but the island connected to it, between them, as if it is a shield. However, a shield for which from who?
She juts her chin out in defiance as if she does not appreciate how he is treating her. He notices the jut and catches himself from smiling at the personality trait, because it reminds him of the Emily of before. Instead of smiling, he takes a sip of water.
"Derek," She growls, her fists clenching around the closed bottle of water. "You are acting like a petulant child. Henry or Jack would react better than this."
Thank you for reading. Next part coming soon.
On Another Note,
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