A/N: Yup, I'm back already. (grins) My head's officially getting back on track. And it feels good.
BUT, first… Thank you so much for those heartwarming reviews! (HUGS) They seriously mean the world to me, ya know? So thank you! You guys are precious!
Awkay… I suppose it's time to get going, no? (takes a deep breath) I really hope you'll enjoy the ride!
SONG RECOMMENDATION: If possible, I'd seriously suggest you guys to listen to 'Autumn's Monologue/The Fiction We Live' from from Autumn to Ashes, or to read the lyrics. That songs fit this chapter AND story so well I felt cold shivers when I realized it. Especially if you think of 'The Fiction We Live' from Morgan's POV and 'Autumn's Monologue' from Reid's.
Elephant's Memory
Two Months Later
Lila Archer was perfectly, miserably aware of the fact that her life hadn't gone exactly as she'd always imagined it to be.
The bright lights of Los Angeles hadn't provided any glory for her. She'd acted in a couple of movies practically no one had come to see, then… nothing. She'd been cast aside, like a pet that's become more of a inconvenience than a companion. She still remembered what her manager had told her, in the anti-afterglow of the last night she ever let him touch her.
/ "Some of us just aren't meant to be stars, Lilly. But don't worry. You're a pretty girl. Pretty girls always land on their feet." /
Leaving LA had been easy. Figuring out what to do next wasn't. Going back home hadn't sounded like a very appealing idea so she'd chosen the opposite side of the country. The lights of Quantico weren't bright but she'd always been a creature of the night, anyway. Still, as she worked tables in a reeking bar she tried to believe, even after two years proving her wrong, that this wasn't all her life was going to be.
Tonight, at least, she hadn't gone home alone – technically she wasn't even home. When she listened to the man behind her climb out of the bed and head towards the kitchen without a word or touch she didn't mind. Neither of them had bothered to pretend that this would actually go anywhere. In a few moments she stretched and left the bed as well, fighting back a yawn. It was around then she noticed the closed door on the right side of the bedroom.
Since she was a child Lila had been too curious for her own good. Tonight made no exception. Making sure the man was busy making coffee she tiptoed to the door and pushed it open after a second of hesitation. Her eyes flew wide. "Shit!"
It was a tiny, almost closet sized room – and it was completely filled with pictures, articles, reports and notes on a man she immediately recognized as George Foyet. A couple of months ago the serial killer had been all over the news, especially after his daring escape. Now the man was all over this room.
Lila's eyebrow bounced up and she swallowed.
Obsessed, much?
Hearing sounds from the kitchen she jumped back slightly, then took a breath and closed the door. She counted to five before she managed to move again. It was time to leave. Her hands shaking slightly she put on her jeans, socks and shoes. After struggling with them for a moment she shoved her bra into her purse and began to button her shirt while leaving the room.
Derek Morgan, or 'FBI' as she'd just called him in the heat of a intense moment, gave her a look as she passed by the kitchen. He frowned. "Are you leaving?" Despite the fact that it was barely three a.m. he was fully dressed and sitting in front of his laptop, looking ready for a day of work.
Lila took a breath, a headache sneaking in. "Look, Derek… Tonight was fun but you don't have to pretend that it actually meant something to you." She zipped her jacket, knowing that it'd be cold outside. "Take care of yourself, okay? Goodnight."
Derek nodded, several emotions dancing in his eyes. Disappointment wasn't one of them. "Goodnight." She wondered if he even remembered her name anymore. Somehow it didn't really matter.
With that Lila left the apartment, rubbing her temple softly with two fingers as she walked down the building's stairs. She had some nice, cool vodka in her refrigerator that might help erase tonight from her memories.
The following evening had already stretched far as Chopin's Nocturne filled the massive auditorium and every single cell in Spencer's body while he played with firm, fervent motions, eyes closed.
Into that music he drowned the nightmares he'd been having for over two months, the frustration he felt every time Derek came to check up on him, absolutely all the insecurities and uncertanties in his life. At this very moment he knew exactly what he was doing. As long as he played the only thing that existed to him was the music. It was impossible to tell where his soul ended and where the melody began.
His hands grew faster as the music intensified, tingled on his skin. His whole body burned while he unleashed absolutely everything he'd been feeling and bottling up since Foyet, for possibly all his life.
And then the music ended, so unexpectedly that he shivered, feeling cold. In the silence that followed he felt like he'd been falling down, miles and miles towards the distant unknown. The music wasn't there to carry him anymore.
He was so overcome by the storm inside him that he actually jumped upon hearing clapping. Turning his head quickly he felt a shudder when discovering Derek. There was a bizarre look he recognized all too well in the agent's eyes. He'd seen similar when the man showed up to his apartment in Vegas one fateful night well over two months ago.
Despite the mixed feelings swelling inside he smiled. "Hey. I heard you came back from Arkansas." It'd been two months and Derek had come every day if he wasn't on a case. Until the day before, that was. After a phone call from Emily he knew the team had been back for over twenty-eight hours. This particular case must've cut deep. The man before him appeared exhausted.
Derek sighed. "It was a damn long case." The agent then frowned, examining him with a look that made him feel uncomfortable. "You look tired."
Spencer swallowed and looked away, unsure how much he should reveal. They were still on a unsteady ground – all lines between them were blurry. "I've… been having some troubles with sleeping." He shrugged, feeling like a five-year-old. "I know I should feel safe behind five locks, but…" But he still woke up to dreams of Foyet sneaking in, every night.
It was silent for a while until Derek uttered the about last words he'd been expecting. "You could come to my place for tonight, you know?" The agent shrugged, appearing about as shocked by the suggestion as he was. "I mean, at least you'd sleep properly for one night."
For the longest time Spencer could only stare. He knew that he should've said 'no', that he shouldn't have allowed himself to be pulled into this. They both knew perfectly where this was going. But Spencer didn't want to go home. He didn't want to go where he was isolated by a concealed address and a phone number only less than five people had an access to, where five locks kept the outside world at bay. And so he nodded, feeling dangerously lightheaded. "'K", he breathed out. "Just for tonight."
It was pouring rain outside and by the time they made it to Derek's car, panting and trembling, they were soaking wet. Maybe that was why Spencer felt cold and suffocatingly hot at the same time while he sat there, his head spinning from their mixed scents humidity intensified.
Spencer was glad the drive to Derek's apartment didn't take long. He quirked an eyebrow at all the cardboard boxes he faced as they walked in.
"I'm just moving in", Derek explained. "My dog, Clooney, still lives in my old apartment."
Spencer emitted a "Oh", unsure why his throat felt dry all of a sudden. Derek's scent, at least, sure had moved in already.
As though following some sort of a soundless command they walked towards the bedroom, where a bed and several more cardboard boxes had been thrown. Spencer stood in the middle of the room, his heart pounding as he wondered what, exactly, would happen next.
Just then Spencer shivered when Derek brushed a strayed bang of brown hair from his face, suddenly invading his private space without being invited. Their eyes locked and just then the pulsating between them was almost as intense as the one Spencer felt while playing. "We've gotta get out of these wet clothes", Derek pointed out in a dangerous, husky tone, one hand already slipping deviously underneath his shirt. "Before we're both sick."
Spencer felt so dizzy that it was a miracle he managed to stand at all and shivered all over as he lifted his hands, allowing Derek to pull off his shirt. He didn't fight back even when Derek gave his bare shoulder a tiny, unexpected kiss before moving on to peel him from his pants.
He knew better than well that this could be a huge mistake, that this could lead into a disaster. But his body didn't seem to care.
His hands shook slightly while took his turn in undressing Derek. As soon as he was done the larger man grabbed him and Spencer shuddered, suddenly far too aware of his body. Of how much weight he'd lost, since…
"Don't be so shy, Pretty boy", Derek commanded, seeming to startle them both. The man's hands were tender and commanding while investigating his body, eventually pulling him close. "Let me show you how beautiful you are."
Derek ran a hand down his naked back, down his spine, and Spencer shivered with rapidly rising delight. He unleashed a shuddering breath, letting his nails dig their way into the skin of Derek's back. Like having been invited his body arched closer to the other man's. In a flash he came to a realization that Derek was just as excited as he was.
Derek gave his neck a bite that'd definitely leave a mark, and he fought to keep his mind from connecting it to the mark Foyet had left on his shoulder. Fought to keep the nightmares from sneaking in, just this once. Fought to…
"What the hell is it that you do to me?" Derek growled all of a sudden.
Hearing Derek's voice relaxed him, enough so to make it possible to shrug and grin. "It's okay to enjoy this, even if you're not gay."
Derek's eyes narrowed slightly, but it seemed to be more out of frustration than anger. "I don't know what the hell I am anymore."
For a moment or two Spencer could only stare. Coming from Derek, that was a huge confession. Even now he could see sheer terror in the agent's eyes, swimming right there in the middle of everything else. Perhaps he'd be able to chase away some of that fear, although he wasn't entirely sure of the cause. "Shh", he commanded, kissing the dark skinned man's neck gently, affectionally. He'd need to go easy, now. He didn't want to worsen those scars inside Derek he was only just becoming aware of. His hands were gentle as they explored the other man's body, sliding shyly into the most private of places. "We shouldn't think about labels too much." He licked his lips before kissing Derek's bare chest. "You're here. I'm here. We don't need to name it yet."
Derek nodded, relaxing visibly. "Good."
The resolve clearly did a number on Derek's confidence. Spencer gasped when Derek took the lead all of a sudden, pushing him to the bed and placing himself firmly on top of him. The man's eyes appeared several shades darker than usual. "I… want to make this feel good. I need you to tell me if I do something wrong."
Spencer nodded and couldn't resist a smile. Last time they did this it was all new to Derek. Now the man obviously knew very clearly what he wanted. And Spencer was happy to try and provide it.
He didn't resist as Derek kissed him feverishly, then flipped him to the correct position. The demanding kisses continued, but at the same time Derek did something else entirely. Spencer's eyes flew wide and his breath got caught into his throat.
This time Derek remembered to warm him up. Trust a FBI-agent to learn quickly.
Spencer moaned embarrassingly loudly with pleasure when Derek quit the warmup and moved on with his administrations. The moves were heated, rapid and aggressive, and Spencer feared he might go out of his mind completely if he wouldn't be offered a release soon. His fingers tangled with Derek's on the sheets. "Your hips…", he gasped, barely able to breathe. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, his mind overloaded with sensations. He'd never experienced anything like this before. "F-Faster… Please…"
Derek complied with a clearly satisfied growl. In the security of the room's shadows the two of them reached their goal. Their body fluids mixed together as pleasure boiled over and for the first time in his life Spencer became one with another person. It was the most amazing thing he'd ever felt.
In the post orgasm heat he ignored the ache in his body and turned towards Derek to tell the man what he'd just experienced, or to at least say 'thank you'. He came to discover that the agent had already fallen asleep, most likely swept under by the intensity of their encounter. Spencer smiled and snuggled just a little bit closer to the other man's warmth.
As Spencer, too, was overtaken by oblivion he felt safe for the first time in over two months.
Two hours later Derek's eyes flew open, still wide open to the nightmares that'd just whispered to him, taunting him. And the warm body next to his most definitely didn't belong to Spencer.
He could see the look in those eyes, so clearly that it chilled him to the bone. He could hear the voice as well. It'd never, ever fade from his head. "Look, Derek, I never hurt you. You could have said no."
Derek's heart pounded like it'd been about to burst as he looked almost frantically towards still sleeping Spencer, desperately trying to calm his breathing.
Spencer looked so calm, almost happy. So did Carl Buford, every single time. The smell of sex was suffocatingly heavy in the room's air.
Moonlight shone into the room, revealing a couple of blood drops on the white bedsheets. The sight made Derek want to throw up.
There was always blood after Buford's entrance, too. There was no way a child's body could've been ready for such an assault. And suddenly the tiny cry Spencer had given was the only sound he could hear. The sickness from before intensified.
Spencer had given his consent. He had given his consent. Right? He was better Buford. Spencer was better. Had to be.
Invisible hands explored his naked skin, uninvited and unwanted. And he couldn't take it anymore.
Derek jumped out of the bed as quickly as he could without disturbing Spencer's rest, then dashed through the room to the bathroom. As soon as he could he closed the door between them, isolated himself from the room where past crashed right into present.
A frown appeared to Aaron Hotchner's face when he glanced towards the clock hanging on his office's wall.
"He's late again", David Rossi, who was sipping coffee on the opposite side of his desk, pointed out with a equally worried expression.
The frown on Aaron's face deepened while he sighed, sinking back in his chair. Derek was one of his best agents, despite the traumas the man was still dealing with. But for the past couple of months, since Las Vegas…
They'd need to have a talk.
"What are you going to do?" David inquired.
Aaron shook his head before giving the only honest answer he had. "I have no idea."
They were both so absorbed by their thoughts that they were taken aback when the office's door opened. Penelope Garcia appeared several shades paler than usual as she entered, uncertainty written all over her face. Her hands shook so that she almost dropped the laptop she was carrying. "I know we shouldn't be investigating Foyet anymore, but… Derek asked me to check out something and…" She trailed off, instead placed to laptop to the desk. "Take a look at this. It's surveillance footage from the prison, before Foyet escaped."
At first the most suspicious thing they saw was the nearly dozing off guard. But then the girl appeared. Upon leaving she looked directly at the camera, showing her face.
Shit…!, was the only thought that fit into Aaron's head.
"So…", David sighed, running a hand through his hair with a wince. "Who's going to tell Morgan?"
As soon as Spencer opened his eyes in the morning he had a feeling that something was very, very wrong. And it wasn't just because he quickly discovered that he wasn't in his own bed.
A frown forced its way to his face while he crawled out of the uncomfortably cool bed, without bothering to get dressed making his way towards the sounds he heard from a tiny bathroom on the opposite side of the room. The frown deepened while the sounds became clearer. Water was running. And Derek… was muttering something he couldn't quite make out. The older man's breathing was so loud that he could nearly hear it. Or was it his own?
His chest tightening Spencer knocked on the door. "Derek? Are you okay?"
There was no response and he couldn't help wondering if the agent had even heard him. He called out a couple of more times before worry made him do something he should've never, ever done. He opened the door without a permission, expecting an embrace of warm, humid air he always caused with a long, hot shower. Instead the cold he faced was even more intense than that in the bedroom. It seemed the shower Derek had taken was so cold that the man was still shivering while standing there before a mirror, breathing in a way that couldn't possibly be healthy. The agent was squeezing the sink in front of him so hard it was a miracle there were no fractures. What truly frightened Spencer, though, were the small scratches he could clearly see on the man's mocha shaded skin. It was almost like Derek had been trying to shed his skin or something underneath it.
Spencer's heartbeat shot up and his head buzzed hard enough to make him feel dizzy. "Derek? What's wrong?"
Derek's head turned quickly, sharply as a whip, and he wondered for a brief moment if it was out of startle or something else entirely. The agent's eyes narrowed slightly, in a way that made Spencer wonder if the man was really seeing him standing there. In a way that got him scared.
Spencer swallowed and took a step backwards. "Derek?"
Derek took several breaths before finally speaking through his teeth. "What the hell are you expecting of me? What the fuck do you want me to say?" The man's hands moved almost animatedly and Spencer took another step backwards to make sure they wouldn't come too close. "I… I don't want a… relationship with you, do you understand? I don't want this!"
Spencer was sure Derek didn't hit him, but it sure as hell felt like it. Utter coldness took over him completely. "I should go." It was a miracle that his voice sounded almost flat. Maybe he was in a state of shock.
Derek nodded, shaking visibly. "Yeah, you should."
Spencer felt like someone had been smothering him. His heart hammered desperately while his eyes stung.
Leave? Yes. Hell yes.
He shouldn't have been stupid enough to expect that he might actually be asked to stay. To expect anything.
Without saying a word he put on his clothes, feeling Derek's piercing eyes on him and desperately trying not to feel used and rejected. As soon as he could he dashed to the apartment's door and hurried out, all the way into the biting wind outside.
Walking towards home with unsteady feet Spencer was glad the pain somewhere around his chest was so bad that it swept away the one elsewhere, the one that would've made him limp in a way that might've revealed what he'd done the night before.
The only thing that would've made the mistake he'd committed worse was the whole world being able to see it.
In the bathroom Derek kept shaking from the storm ravishing his whole body and soul, feeling so much that it was a miracle he didn't get torn apart physically. And then, with one mighty, swift blow he shattered the mirror before him to hundreds of pieces.
In about ten minutes he finally managed to move. He bandaged his bloodied hand with treacherous calmness, got dressed and forced his mind to shut down almost completely with several deep breaths.
There'd be plenty of time for thinking later. Right now he had twenty minutes of driving's worth time to come up with a decent excuse for why he was two hours late from work. He sure as hell wouldn't be able to figure out an explanation for the unshed tears of grief, rage and frustration in his eyes.
George Foyet had always been comfortable with waking up early. In his current life it was a necessity if he wanted to avoid any further setbacks. He took a deep breath, inhaling the air of the huge city spreading in front of him.
The desert air smelled like blood. He smiled.
"'Haven't seen one of your smiles in a while", his female companion commented, stretching on her seat. She then groaned while scratching her bright red hair. "I hate dying my hair. It always makes my skin itchy." Her bright green eyes, which were framed with a heavy load of makeup, narrowed. "I'm sure my eyes could do being without these contacts, too. You're lucky I'm so fond of you." She lit a cigarrette and inhaled hungrily, which made her relax almost instantly. Her eyes gained a look that made him feel foreign things only one person had aroused before. "So… It's almost time." She inhaled a couple of more times. "Do you think he's expecting us?"
George tilted his head, looking at the city once more. That was a very interesting question. "He should know to expect us, yes. But who knows." He glanced towards her cigarrette with apparent distaste. "You know that's a nasty habit."
She shrugged, appearing irritated. "You know I do this when I'm anxious."
He just had to smile a little bit. "Patience, Ellie girl. We'll get to work soon."
Beside him Ellie Spicer first glared, then melted into a tiny, wicked grin that became forever imprinted into his mind.
With that the two of them returned to Las Vegas.
TBC, right?
NOTE ON ELLIE'S CHARACTER: The story of Ellie Spicer in this story is a little bit different from the canon, which explains why she's older in this. I'm afraid you'll have to stick around to find out. (winces) (I'm nasty, I know.)
A/N: Okay… (takes a deep breath and sighs) Why is it that things always get more complicated with those two when it looks like it's all getting better? (winces) It's a bit weird that I felt a TINY bit choked up while writing this chapter. That never happens.
PLEASE, leave a review to let me hear out your thoughts! Heck, yell at me for these frustration setbacks if nothing else. I'd really like to know that ya're out there. (glances hopefully)
IN THE NEXT ONE: There's a lot of mess to be sorted out. Will things ever mend between Morgan and Reid? Meanwhile, Foyet's next move rocks everything upside down.
WE'RE HALFWAY THROUGH, FOLKS! I now have a solid plan for the rest of this. The story will almost certainly be twenty chapters long. (What a beast!)
I REALLY hope I'll c ya guys later!
Be good!
Winter Cicada: Reid belongs to Virginia, doesn't he? (smirks) Oh, the opportunities…
And Foyet just had to escape… (groans) But I suppose that was fated as well. We'll see where this leads…
I bet you're right, btw. If that girl's Jane Smith I'm the Easter Bunny.
Dialogue and humor, hmm? (grins) We'll see what I can do. You know what I just noticed? Lack of talk is the key problem with Morgan and Reid. Just think how much easier things would be between them if they'd just talk! (groans)
I'm super happy to hear you're enjoying the story, hun! (hugs)
Gigantic thank yous for the review!
Katsakura: He's out indeed. (winces)
Let's hope everyone comes out of this mess okay. 'Looks like there's quite a storm rolling in…
Massive thank yous for the review!
Nicolethecrazyone: You can't even imagine how much I'm smiling right now! (beams, and HUGS)
As for your request… We'll see what the next chapter brings… (grins)
Colossal thank yous for the review!
