A/N: Ok another chapter for you all to make up for my mistake. Hope you enjoy. And remember to review!
Morgan sighed and pushed himself off from the mirror. He couldn't put this off anymore. As he went to pick the tweezers up he examined the back of his hands. The burns littered the back of each hand. Each one had ash clinging to the damaged skin. Morgan frowned before turning on the tap again. He filled the basin with the cold water before gently dropping his hands into the liquid. He winced at the first contact but sighed in relief when the cool water began cleaning the burns. As he looked down at his hands he counted the burns. Thirteen in all. The area around each of the burns was red and slightly inflamed looking. Morgan yawned. He had been awake for the past seventy-two hours and it was starting to catch up with him. He had been running purely on adrenaline and the will to live. But now that he was able to slow down he came crashing down like he had run into a brick wall.
After letting his hands soak for a minute Morgan turned his attention back to the tweezers and his shoulder. He picked up the bottle of vodka and splashed half of it on his shoulder. He winced at the sharp pain it brought. Next he picked up the tweezers and rinsed them in the alcohol. Once done, Morgan put the bottle down and moved as close as he could to the mirror. Using it to guide him, Morgan gritted his teeth in anticipation of the pain. Concentrating hard Morgan reached into the wound and felt around until he found it. He was going very slowly, not wanting to do too much damage. Finally Morgan managed to grab the bullet with the tweezers and trying to follow the direction the bullet had entered as much as possible, Morgan pulled it out. With a sigh he chucked the bullet in the bin. Morgan stared at himself in the mirror. He could hear the faint voices of Hotch and Reid as they talked. He knew Hotch would be pissed when he found out the truth but right now he didn't care. Morgan breathed in deeply, ignoring the pain from his ribs. He had to clean himself up before Garcia got here. He still ached when he moved too much but Morgan had learnt over his years, not just as a spy but as a kid in Chicago how to block the pain. He used those skills now as the pain in his shoulder flared. He thumped the wall with his good hand in frustration. He was sick of everything. After all this is over he thought, I'm moving. Somewhere quiet and somewhere the locals don't ask too many questions. He was tired. Tired of lying, tired of running but most of all tired of putting people he cared about in danger. It had to end and he was going to make sure it did, no matter what happened to him.
Morgan dipped his t-shirt into the basin, soaking it with water. He used it to clean the cuts on his torso wincing slightly when he touched it too roughly. He wiped up the trail of blood that ran down his chest from his shoulder. He was just about to bandage it up when he heard Hotch yell out.
"He's a spy? For what agency?"
He heard Reid's failed attempts at calming Hotch down. The furious steps coming towards the bathroom were enough to tell Morgan it wasn't working.
"Damn it."
Morgan rushed around the room; trying to clean up as much as he could before Hotch came storming in. He just had time to wonder if Hotch was going to kick the door down when the front door bell rang. Everybody in the house froze. Morgan's hand went straight to his gun and he cursed himself for not giving Reid his gun back. He drew his weapon, his mind focusing wholly on what was happening outside. While trying to block out the pain, Morgan slowly unlocked the door. He stepped quietly into the hall, trying not to knock anything over as he did. Morgan was just able to make out voices in the front hallway. Reid was obviously talking to them, as was Hotch but as Morgan listened he realised there were more than three voices at the door. A door was shut and the voices started making there way down the hall towards the lounge. Morgan stayed listening in the other hallway. Reid and Hotch didn't sound stressed, in fact they sounded rather happy. Morgan frowned at that. What was going on? Garcia was supposed to be arriving soon and by herself, not accompanied by a group of other random people. There was soon a lull in the conversation and as Morgan listened he could tell that the atmosphere had turned tense. He needed to know who they were. Just then one of them spoke.
"Reid… could I use your bathroom please. I'll be two minutes then we can start discussing the… case."
Morgan didn't hear an answer but he heard the footsteps coming towards the door. Suddenly Reid shouted out: "Yes! You may use my bathroom. It's down the hall, first door on the right."
Morgan rolled his eyes as he quickly got out of the way just before the door was pushed open. He stayed hidden but peaked out and got a look at the back of a woman's head. He immediately recognised her. But who were the other people? He thought he had a pretty good idea of who they might be but he wanted to make sure before he went and said hello. Still in his hiding position, Morgan listened as Garcia reached the bathroom. She stopped when she got to the door. Morgan could just imagine what it would look like. Blood stained clothes, blood stained towel, bandages on the floor and sink and a half empty bottle of vodka. It was a mess and he knew it would freak her out. Garcia slowly bent down and picked the jumper off the floor. As far as she could tell it was the cleanest thing in the room. She held it between two fingers and carried it down the hall. She walked into the living room, the jumper held out in front of her.
"Hey um Reid… What's this?"
There was a moment of silence and then Morgan recognised the exclamations that followed.
"Is that blood?"
"What's going on Reid? Hotch?"
"Is this about Morgan?"
"Look why don't you guys sit down. There's something you need to know."
"What are you talking about? This does have something to do with Morgan doesn't it?"
There were footsteps as Garcia entered the lounge and sat down. Morgan moved closer to the door and saw her dropping the jumper at her feet. She seemed stunned and Morgan felt his heart drop at the sadness on her face. He stepped into the room, forgetting everything, what had happened, how badly he was hurt, that people still thought he was dead and a terrorist. All he knew was that Garcia needed him and he was going to be there for her. When he stepped into the room, everyone looked up upon hearing his footsteps.
"Holy…"
"Hey baby girl"
Garcia didn't move. She sat staring at Morgan, not quite believing him to be real. Morgan began walking across to her when a hand on his chest stopped him. He looked down at it before following the arm up to the persons face. It was Rossi. He had a stunned look on his face but he still looked in control enough to know that Morgan was still considered a danger to the people around him.
"Morgan… you're a murderer."
Morgan sighed. He really didn't want to go through this again. It had been hard enough convincing Reid and Hotch was only convinced because Reid was. But the others? He didn't have the energy to even try. He turned to Hotch and Reid, a resigned look on his face.
"Little help guys?"
"Wait. You knew he was here? And you didn't tell us? What the hell is going on?" Prentiss looked pissed. But Morgan also saw the relief on her face.
Hotch stepped forward shooting Morgan a pointed look. Morgan frowned. What was he getting at? Hotch then looked down at Morgan's chest and he felt his stomach drop. He knew he had to look bad. The cuts on his chest and stomach were still bleeding and his t-shirt he had wrapped around his shoulder was soaked through.
"Hotch it's not as bad as it looks…" he began but the disappointment and anger on Hotchner's face stopped him. He turned instead to Reid who was standing stunned, staring at Morgan's shoulder.
"A few cuts and bruises?! Are you kidding me? I've seen bodies in better condition. What's wrong with your shoulder?" Hotchner exclaimed
"Hotch please. Not now. We have more important things to talk about right now."
He threw a pointed look at Rossi whose hand was still held up in a stopping motion.
"He was shot." Garcia whispered.
Everyone turned and stared at her.
"What? How do you know that?"
She raised her eyes from looking at the jumper on the floor to Morgan's face.
"There was a bloody bullet in the bin in the bathroom. And there was bloody tweezers and a half empty bottle of vodka." She held Morgan's eyes as she continued. "You took the bullet out yourself didn't you?"
Morgan didn't know what to say but his eyes stayed on hers, hoping they would say what he wanted. How sorry he was this had happened, how she didn't have to worry anymore, that everything would be ok.
"Garcia…"
"Wait. You actually did? Are you insane? What if you had hit an artery? Morgan, what's wrong with you at the moment? This whole thing doesn't make sense. You've been accused of being a terrorist for Christ's sake! You're distant, you won't talk to us. Stop trying to cut us out. Talk to us, please." Hotch said.
Morgan recognised the desperation and concern in Hotch's voice as when he had been arrested in Chicago. He knew his friends wanted to help but he couldn't take that chance. If they got hurt because of him… he didn't know what he would do. Morgan closed his eyes in pain. He didn't want to have to go through what had happened in the van, not to them. He knew they would be horrified. They would pity him. And he didn't want that.
"Derek… Talk to us please." That was Hotch again.
Morgan opened his eyes and locked his eyes with Hotch's.
"Believe me, you don't want to know."
"We do Morgan, all of us." Reid said while indicating everyone in the room. Everyone nodded and Morgan couldn't help but smile a little. He looked at each of them in turn before sighing and falling heavily into a chair by the door. As he tried to decide on how much to tell them his thoughts drifted back to inside the van.
Morgan was breathing heavily as the man once again lit the cigarette and ground it into his skin. Marshall was grinning as he watched Morgan fight the pain. He leant forward in his seat so his face was close to Morgan's.
"You know you can end this anytime. All you have to do is tell me where that flash drive is and the pain will be gone." He spoke in a sickly sweet voice that made Morgan shake his head in disgust.
"Yeah, not only will the pain be gone but so will my life. A bullet between the eyes, right Marshall? Just like in Brazil that time. Well I say you can kiss my ass you sadistic bastard. I can take it."
Morgan couldn't help but think about the time Prentiss and Reid were stuck with that cult. Hearing Prentiss through the ear piece was hard. He had wanted to run in there and pummel that guy into the ground. Morgan turned his attention back to Marshall. He still had Morgan's knife in his hands and with every word he twirled it around.
"Well Morgan I can see we're going to have some trouble with you."
"Glad I could be a nuisance." Morgan smiled sweetly at Marshall.
"Yes I bet you are. I think we should move onto the next fun activity, don't you boys?"
The two men who were standing guard in the back of the van gave a short laugh.
Marshall brought the flat side and slid it down Morgan's chest. With a grin he turned it quickly, slicing through Morgan's t-shirt to his skin below. Morgan winced slightly when he felt the sting of the cut, but a part from that he showed no sign of it happening. But Morgan wasn't fooled. He knew that Marshall wasn't just going to cut him; he would have something to add to the wounds like salt or lemon juice to irritate them more. Morgan had heard a lot of disturbing stories about Marshall. And even though he knew some of them weren't true the ones that were didn't make him feel better. Marshall nodded to the man in the back who wasn't smoking. He turned his back on them and began rummaging around in the bag on the floor. Morgan watched as he did, trying to find something that would help him escape. Nothing caught his eyes but he felt them widen when he saw what was in the mans hands. It was a bottle of vinegar. Morgan rolled his eyes. Shit he thought. This is going to hurt. The man passed the bottle over to Marshall who slowly opened the bottle.
"Well Morgan, I know you've had experience in torture before… remember May and June of 2003? Wasn't that a fun couple of months? I certainly remember. Your GPS chip stopped working, not being able to communicate with you. Then they figured out who you were. But you were back to work in a week? I must say I'm impressed. What did you tell your friends at the BAU? You know, why you were gone for so long, how you ended up breaking three of your fingers in your right hand? It must have been some story. What did you tell them?"
Morgan sat in silence, watching him.
"Not willing to share? That's a shame. I don't suppose you told them where you got that scar on your back from either did you? You know being this dishonest and holding so many secret's back can't be good for you. Talk to me Derek, tell me where the flash drive is."
Morgan just sat there and glared at him. With a sigh Marshall picked up the bottle of vinegar and splashed some onto Morgan's chest. Gasping at the sudden pain it brought, Morgan tipped his head back so he was looking at the ceiling.
"Shit…" he whispered, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall.
Marshall brought the knife slicing down across Morgan's stomach again, this time deeper, the blood dripping down his body. Morgan gritted his teeth, riding out the pain. He could feel blood running from various wounds on his body and this time Morgan didn't make a sound. He wasn't going to give Marshall the satisfaction. He was done playing his game.
