Chapter 21

Finally, the next day, Morgan's bags were packed and he was being wheeled to the car by an orderly, his mother carrying a small duffel at his side. His mood had ranged from bad to worse since the physical therapist's visit, like he had finally succumbed to the depression that had been kept at bay for days by his caring visitors, but now hit him in full force as he rejoined the real world. Garcia was waiting at the exit in front of the big black SUV, grinning from ear to ear. She had worn her favorite sunset-like sweater for the occasion, and she held a small box in her hands, bobbing up and down on her toes as she saw Morgan walk out.

"There's my superman." Her voice was sweet and careful, waiting for him to set the mood of the ride.

"Hello beautiful." The words were right, but his smirk lacked the cheeky Morgan charm from before the explosion. Garcia smiled anyways and presented him with the gift, setting it carefully in his lap.

"Something to keep you entertained for the next month." She took the bag from Fran, giving the woman a quick hug, and opened the door. The orderly helped Morgan to stand, and he walked to the car in short, deliberate steps, so completely unlike the long, strident pace of just days before. Everything about Morgan seemed to have changed: his muscles appeared almost humorously large in comparison to his now lean physique the dark fuzz covering his head was due to lack of motivation rather than style, and his normally snappy wardrobe was reduced to his old CPD sweats.

"Thanks Garcia," he grunted as he climbed into the car. "What is it?"

"Open it, you silly goose!" She teased weakly. Morgan clicked his seatbelt into place in the back seat and Fran slid into the passenger side, thanking the orderly as she did. Morgan ripped the paper off unceremoniously, tossing it to the floor as he read the side of boxed set of DVDs.

"Baseball…" He said slowly, as if not comprehending the word.

"It's a Ken Burns documentary series about the history of baseball. It's really good. Or so the ratings say, I couldn't get into it myself." She looked worried for a second, but regained her sunny smile as she turned the key in the ignition. "We'll be home in no time."

"Thank you for driving, Penelope." Garcia and Fran, although friendly before, were now even closer, almost family. Penelope's constant presence at Morgan's bedside had grown from annoying to endearing for Fran, who decided to bring Garcia into her confidence on more than one occasion when Morgan was resting.

"And thanks for the movies." Morgan added from the backseat.

"It's my pleasure. Anything for my main man." He didn't respond again, and Garcia chattered happily with Fran in the front seat as some unfamiliar jazz musician played in the background. The ride was, as promised, blissfully short, and soon they were pulling up in front of Morgan's house. The familiar façade caused a sigh of relief to slip from Morgan's lips, and Garcia looked into the rearview mirror to see Morgan close his eyes happily. "Home Sweet Home," she commented, turning off the car.

They got his bags inside and got Morgan settled on the couch with pasta and a glass of water in hand. He snapped the TV on and threw the remote onto the couch next to him, digging into the noodles that his mom had made. Garcia had left, and had left Morgan and Fran cookies as well. "I think this is the best that spaghetti I have ever tasted," he said, licking his lips.

"Or maybe your senses have been dulled by the hospital food." Fran said teasingly, taking a forkful of her own. "Nope. You're right. This is just good." She sat back down in the recliner and sank into the plush mahogany-colored fabric, keeping her eyes on her youngest child.

"What is it, mama?" Morgan asked, setting his fork down. "Are you tired? You should rest."

"We both should rest, Derek. But that's not it." Fran's wrinkles creased even deeper as she rubbed her eyes, and Morgan saw her age showing. "I'm just worried about you Derek. You've always been the man of the family, and even when you were a kid you never let anyone take care of you, even me."

"I'm different now, mom, I've changed. And I am a man now, not just some scared teenager playing pretend. I can take care of myself, and I can ask for help." Fran raised her eyebrows suspiciously, and Morgan amended her statement. "I can accept help when it's forced on me."

"Then I'll trust Garcia and the team to take care of you."

"What do you mean? Are you leaving?" His spaghetti forgotten, Morgan fumbled for the remote and turned off the TV. "You can stay in my room, and I'll be in the guest room. I thought we agreed on that."

"Derek, I have to work. Much as I'd like to, I can't retire just yet." She patted his blanketed leg. "Eat. You're well enough to take care of yourself."

He took another bite of spaghetti and thought about his mother's words. Fran has expected him to protest immediately, to ask her to stay, but instead, he seemed to be coming to terms with it. "You're right. I'll be fine on my own. I'm sorry that you've had to miss so much work." He leaned back contemplatively, taking another bite of his pasta and dribbling some sauce on his shirt. "I swear, I'll be fine."

"Don't swear," Fran replied, grabbing a napkin. She wiped the red splotch off his shirt, smiling gently as she remembered the same motions from years before. She reminded herself that the Derek in front of her was a man, not a boy, and that his days of running to her when he was hurt were gone. Even so, a small part of her was hurt by the quick acceptance of her absence. "I'm sure you want some time alone now that you're finally home. I'll go clean up the kitchen."

"Mama, wait." He grabbed her sleeve as she walked by, and Fran sighed in relief that she was still needed, even in that infinitesimal moment. "Just relax. I'll put a movie in or something. If you have to go back home tomorrow, don't work tonight. Here." He swung his legs off the couch, grimacing at the pull in his abs, and patted the empty cushion, "Sit". The command was all it took, and she nestled in close to him, tucking the blanket over her knees as Morgan looked through the channels again, finally landing on a hallmark-esque movie that didn't particularly appeal to him, but was one of his mom's favorites.

I still remember the first time I watched this movie." Fran laughed gently. "You sprinted into the room when you heard me and your sisters sobbing because you were worried that something bad had happened."

"And something had." He reminded her teasingly. "What's-his-name died. Joseph? Joey?"

"Jonah. Jonah dies. Thank you for the reminder." She chuckled, watching the opening credits roll. "Now shush. Let's just watch a movie together. Close your eyes if you feel sleepy, and try to get some rest."

"Should be any time now, just you wait." He settled back into the cushions, letting his eyes droop closed. As he quickly settled into a deep, exhausted sleep, the last thing he felt was his mother's hand resting on his shoulder, protecting him while he slept.