Author's Note: Been a long time huh? I apologize for taking so long to get this updated. Between college, health issues, my horrific attention span, and periodic waves of despondence, while this fic has never left my mind, it has had to take a back seat, unfortunately. College is now on hold for the next two months as I enjoy my summer vacation and return in the Fall, so, I've been working past every blockage with every bit of motivation and perseverance I can conjure up to set out and finish what I started. I appreciate your patience, as well as all the wonderful reviews and favorites. Keep em coming, especially the reviews. Feedback gives me the strength, motivation, and determination to continue. :3

Now, I'm aware that in order to maintain the pace and the intriguing factor of this story, that some things might be altered as it relates to the series, to fit with the story, so it could become kind of an AR from here on out, while maintaining as much as possible, the authenticity of the real events that happened on the show over the years.

As aforementioned, I absolutely do not own any of the characters whose names you know from the series, although I wish I had ownership of the Morgan character so I could take it to new heights! Admittedly my favorite along with Rossi, Garcia. Love all of them, but we all have our favorites, right? ;)

Enjoy, and lemme know how I did.

CHAPTER 3 – Promise In The Dark

"That's what it takes to be a hero, a little gem of innocence inside you that makes you want to believe that there still exists a right and a wrong, and that decency will somehow triumph in the end"

~ Lise Hand

The noises in the atmosphere became a mesh of a reverberated rumble. The illumination became too much for the pupils to bear as bright lights quickly turned into a vivid blur. His head was throbbing, his intractable body drained of every ounce of energy it once possessed. All he could do was lay his head back down on the firm foundational shoulder of his rescuer, eyes too weak to force open. He could feel his mouth drooping loosely as slight sniffles and a hint of wheezing indicated a brewing cold.

He forgot where he was, but he knew he was moving, and moving at a substantial pace. No strength to react, he could do nothing but exist there, the battle with his eyelids still raging, a battle he knew he was losing. He could hear talking, but the combination of overwhelming lethargy and his underdeveloped brain made it difficult to comprehend the conversation. Every time his rescuer replied he could feel the vibration conjured up from the individual's vocal chords, a feeling that became somewhat soothing in a sense, and made him want to stir less and less.

A sudden change of light indicated a sudden change of setting. Drawing attention to it, his eyes suddenly shot open, self-sufficiently. He was still moving, but the air was no longer hot and muggy. An instant chill greeted him and remained a constant companion, whether wanted or unwanted.

The blurriness of his vision faded and his attention immediately lunged at the sight of individuals wearing white dress shirts with logos on their shoulders, blue rubber gloves smothering their hands. They were entering through a set of glass sliding doors he could see while looking straight ahead of him. He instinctively lifted his head up off of the shoulder, and spun it around behind him. Seeing the small mobile bed that awaited him, he tightened his grip on his rescuer, a whine suddenly invoking inside if him.

"It's okay," a smooth voice cooed. He felt that vibration again, but it wasn't enough to arrest his feelings of foreboding this time. As they approached the bed, they were greeted by two more of the men in uniforms.

"It's okay, we'll take him from here,"

"No, no…I think I should go back with him," the voice protested.

"I'm sorry sir, we cannot permit you beyond this point."

"No, see, you don't understand…"

"Sir..."

"This kid is traumatized and I'm the only one that can keep him stable."

"I understand that sir, but it's protocol that we ask you to remain out here until a doctor informs you it's clear to come back."

"But you know I'm an FBI Agent."

"Agent Morgan, if it was up to me, I would let you back there, but our supervisor is here, and we have to ask you to wait in the lobby. The little guy's gonna be fine, I assure you."

Morgan realized it was no use to continue to object. He turned to the alert child, hoping for his attention. "Michael…listen to me, okay? We're going to put you on this bed, and these nice men are going to take you to go make sure you're alright."

"no…" whined the 3 year old in an innocently barely audible tone.

He knew this wouldn't be easy, but he didn't want another struggle. He reasoned as sensitively as he could. "Michael, I promise you, I'll be right there in no time."

The toddler continued his repudiation. "No….."

"Michael…" begged Morgan once more, before being cut off by the child.

"No…" This time, it was a "no" that broke down into an innocent sob as tears began streaming down his face once again, a familiar site the agent painfully couldn't stand to see. Morgan's eyes began to enlarge as an innocent frown formed on his handsome face.

Pressed for time, one of the EMT's decided it had to be done. Attempting sensitivity while obviously impatient, the paramedic suddenly moved in. "Hey buddy. Come with me." He then realized the boy wasn't budging. "Let go Agent," the paramedic said.

"He's holding onto me," observed Derek.

The 3 year old's protest did not falter even through his grief-stricken sobs. "No…" he uttered, a little louder this time, as the paramedic continued trying to pry him away from his protector. Caught in the middle, Morgan wasn't sure if he should help the paramedic out or not.

The struggle ensued as another EMT attempted to calm the boy down. "It's OK, we're not gonna hurt you."

"NO!" A clear sign of insubordination from a child whose attitude changed from emotional, to emotionally enraged. It didn't matter. The EMT's were through fooling around, and almost had him in their grasp.

Morgan couldn't help but continue trying to prod Michael into letting them do what they needed to do for his well being. "Michael, you're gonna be alright."

Totally arrested and under their control, the EMT's put the kicking and screaming toddler down on the bed as he continued the battle while they fought to get him strapped down. "Nooooo! Nooooo! Nooooo!" The tears were back, as he devolved into another screaming fit, totally breaking down at this point.

The situation became hard for Derek to watch as he started getting a little on edge. "Hey…..guys, GUYS!" An EMT grabbed the three year old's arm a little harshly, which got under Morgan's skin. "Easy! TAKE IT EASY!" he bellowed.

"We've got it agent!"

"Be careful with him!"

It was the entertainment of the hospital lobby as all eyes became fixed on the situation. Finally managing to secure the boy down – who was sobbing violently at this point – they managed to finally wheel the gernie to the back as a hint of rage swelled up in the center of Derek's chest. He started seething a bit before a familiar voice broke into his thoughts.

"Morgan…..Morgan!"

"WHAT?" the agent shouted uncontrollably, turning around.

Jason Gideon maundered in beside Aaron Hotchner, Gideon looking somewhat troubled after catching the tail end of the combustible situation. "Is he alright?" he asked, a bit concerned. The look on Hotchner's face conveyed very little concern, but it was common for the naturally stoic agent.

Derek put his hands on top of his head and began walking towards a wall, away from his two superiors. "It's out of my hands," he sighed frustratingly.

He pressed his sweat laden forehead against the cold hard white surface. "What did you find at the scene?" he questioned while closing his eyes.

"A whole lot of blood," responded Hotchner, blankly with his arms folded.

Morgan's head spun around as his eyes widened slightly. "More victims?"

"The blood was the unsub's" the Unit Chief shot back, facial expression keeping its signature stoic poise.

Morgan knew what they were getting at as he became ponderingly silent for a few seconds before responding. "Look, I know I got a little testy."

Aaron Hotchner was quick to retort. "Testy is 5 shots, maybe 6. 13 borders on vengeful homicide."

"So I'm taking a fall for this?"

"The bureau hasn't gotten a hold of the case yet. However, when they do, your competence and emotional state could be in question following this blood bath, and Strauss is going to have a few choice words for me as well…"

Morgan's facial expression turned offended as he slowly approached his boss. "Hotch, I did what I had to do to protect that child."

"You did a lot more than that, and I can't say I'd be in disagreeance with their assessment." His Nokia 8210 suddenly started going off in his blazer pocket, cutting off the tail end of his sentence. "Excuse me," he observed, pulling it out and placing it to his ear as he briskly walked away from his two colleagues.

There was a period of vocal inactivity as Morgan continued brooding silently. "Steven's with CJ," informed Gideon, breaking the tension.

"Are they on their way here to the hospital?"

"They should be. Our work there was done, so we handed supervision of the crime scene over to Chief Graysborough so we could come check on you."

Morgan didn't look at Gideon, although acknowledging his words. "I'm fine," he replied glumly.

"You sure about that?" Gideon's eyes were solemnly fixed on the young agent's sullen face. Morgan's attitude did all the talking for him. He was obviously miffed, bothered, and contemplative.

"Not if Hotch walks back over here," he muttered sarcastically.

"He's not a big fan of what you did."

Morgan finally looked at the veteran agent, slowly approaching him. "Gideon, from day one, when we started this case, I said those kids would be in danger. We said he would go after the wife. The son of a bitch mutilated her before we even got there. Michael and Steven were his next targets. If I hadn't of made a move, what would have happened?"

"Disregarding protocol is what can get an agent killed."

"With all due respect, my life means nothing if I can't use it to protect others. That 3 year old had no possible way of defending himself…"

"I get it. Believe me, I do. But you're gonna have to explain your actions to the bureau, and hope they don't think you're incapable of handling this job."

"Of course I can handle the job, Gideon."

"You're young, intelligent, passionate, and you show a lot of potential. You have to prove yourself to the FBI Brass that you belong in this unit, and blowing away an unsub isn't going to shine you in a good light."

Hotch returned to the scene, suddenly interrupting the dialogue between the two agents. "That was Graysborough, they found a second body in the woods behind the house."

Morgan's heartbeat accelerated a bit. "Same unsub?"

Hotch didn't hold back. "Based on the age of the victim, they think it could be a third foster child."

A not started to form in the pit of Morgan's stomach as he could suddenly feel his blood boil. "SON OF A BITCH!" he roared, slamming the side of his fist onto the concrete hospital wall, causing the majority of the people in the lobby to once again look in his direction.

"We couldn't save all of them, it's to be expected."

Morgan turned around, walking back towards his boss. "How can you just stand there and say that with that tone of voice, man?"

"Morgan, this is the job. We have to be able to handle circumstances like this."

Brushing off Hotch, Morgan glanced over at Gideon, whose hawkish stare remained in tact. "Blowing away an unsub?" Questioned Morgan to Gideon. "I should have gutted that sick bastard like a fish!"

"We did all we could," responded Hotch, flatly.

Their conversation was now at an end as a familiar individual strolled up, walking side by side with a teenager about 16 years of age. The boy had pale white skin, and his face was a dim red as if he had been straining. His demeanor conveyed a combination of worry and sorrow.

Noticing who it was, Morgan walked in their direction. "Hey Steven, you okay?"

Completely blowing off the question, the teenager worriedly glanced around the lobby. "Where's my brother?"

Morgan's eyes remained fixed on the kid's face. "He's in the back with the doctor. He's gonna be fine," the agent calmingly reassured.

"You're Derek right?"

Morgan sympathetically nodded.

"I heard screams coming from the garage, and Mom was home. Then Charles came charging in from the back with a wild look in his eye, and told us to stay put, not to move. He went back outside with a machete, and I could hear…." He paused for a moment, trying to maintain his composure as emotion attempted to consume him. "I could hear the sound of it hitting flesh. I didn't know what was going on…but I knew something had happened to mom."

"It's okay," Reassured Morgan, his hand smoothing across Steven's back.

"He was coming back from the garage, and something told me to grab Michael and try to get out of the house, because Charles was going to do something to us. I mean, he always did something horrible to us, but I had a feeling he had worse things in mind."

Steven paused suddenly, fighting off more emotion as he continued to tell his story. Morgan continued to comfort the teenager as his colleagues all stood by, listening intently, keeping their own feelings of emotion hidden inside of them in an attempt to maintain their necessary bravado.

"I didn't have time..." the teenager continued. "He had a gun in his hand, and he aimed it at me. I ducked, and his shot missed, and he had to reload. All I could do was run…" This time they could all see tears starting to well up in his eyes. "I felt like such a coward. I left my little brother in there at his mercy, and I could hear him crying as I left out the front door." Steven sniffed and inhaled deeply, looking up at the ceiling for a moment, realizing his emotions were winning this game of tug a war.

"It's okay," Morgan repeated in his signature comforting soft tone.

"Michael and I have been through so much together. He's my little brother." His composure waning, Steven could barely get his next sentence choked out. "God, I left my little brother in there to die."

"Steven, listen to me. None of this is your fault. You did what you had to do to survive, and there was nothing you could have done to help Michael if you would have been killed. You ran for help, which is the best thing you could have done, man. Because of you, Michael survived."

"You saved his life, not me."

"But you made the call." Morgan placed his hand on the young man's shoulder and massaged it firmly for a few seconds, before their dialogue was suddenly interrupted.

"Agent Morgan?"

The eyes of everyone in the group immediately traveled in one direction as a doctor stood there in full fledged scrub regalia, clipboard in hand, prepared to give whatever news he had to offer. Derek slowly approached the physician, nodding as if giving him permission to speak.

"Michael has suffered some internal bruising on his femur, fibula, patella, and he has a mildly sprained coccyx. He's dehydrated and showing signs of malnutrition, which explains his relapsing lethargic state. We're going to be keeping him overnight and we're going to have a psychotherapist down for observation, as we're thinking he may also have a stress or panic disorder."

"Can we see him?" pleaded an optimistic Steven.

"We're only allowing two back at a time," decreed the doctor.

CJ decided this was the time for an opportunity to speak to her counterpart. "Uhh, Steven, why don't you go ahead, and Agent Morgan will meet you there, okay?"

"Thanks Agent McClure." Steven made his way past the physician, who smiled and nodded at the two remaining agents before following the teenager to the back.

Morgan sensed what the conversation would be about before any subject was even broached. "CJ..."

"Listen, I know this whole situation has got to be eating you alive. Believe me, you don't know how hard it was to not crack while listening to Steven talk. I just wanted to check in and make sure everything's alright upstairs."

"I'm fine."

"Why am I getting the impression this isn't the first time you've said that without validity?"

"CJ…I really am fine. I know I got a little carried away back there, but I'm only thinking about this kid right now."

"Derek, you know none of this is on you," reassured the female agent sensitively.

"He's become attached to me for a reason."

"Yeah, you saved his life and protected him. It's a natural thing with some kids."

"That makes me feel responsible. I need to look out for him and make sure he's alright."

"You've already done that, and now it's time to back off."

He cut her off. "CJ…"

She returned the favor. "If you don't, it's only going to strengthen this unhealthy attachment."

"But you just said it was natural."

"So is mercury, but do you want it in your Cheerios?"

Her somewhat disguised quip didn't get the reaction she had desired as her colleague was still very much in thought. After a few moments of silence, she spoke again. "Look. Go back there and see how he's doing, but find a way to break this thing off before you put your career in further jeopardy. When you get back to Quantico, talk to Hotch and get a feel of where your standing is. I've got your back on this. I know Gideon does, and Hotch should too. We're a team, and we've gotta look out for each other."

"CJ, what's going to happen to him?" Morgan's worry over Michael was his main focus and he couldn't control it.

His female counterpart decided to give him a heavy dose of reality. "That's no longer your problem. Our work here is done."

Morgan didn't say anything, but he felt the coldness of her words. As true as they were, that wasn't what he wanted to hear. He decided for the sake of civility to veer off the subject. "You gonna wait out here?" he questioned casually, briefly putting aside his continuous feelings of contempt for the situation.

"Do you want me to?" she replied, suggestively.

"Hotch and Gideon still here?"

"Yeah. They were thinking about heading back to the BAU."

Morgan had something else in mind. "Leave the Tahoe and ride back with them. I need some time alone."

A puzzled look formed on CJ's face. "You sure?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, princess, see you when I get back." His words came without that upside down frown that usually accompanied his banter. CJ was quick to pick up on the unusualness of the situation as she took a step towards him and proceeded to brush something off the center of his form fitting white v-neck T-shirt.

"See that, even an undeniably gorgeous man like you realizes when mama is right," she winked, brushing her palm down across both sides of his chest. A smirk suddenly appeared on Morgan's face that caught her attention. There it was. She got him that time.

"See that, I knew I could get you to smile," she observed, taking a step back from the muscular agent.

"Goodbye Clarissa Joe," he quipped.

"Love youuuuuu," she replied, smiling up at him.

Morgan motioned for a hug, as the female agent complied and slipped into his affectionate embrace. He then planted a warm kiss on the tip of her forehead as he often did when they had light moments like this. Still very much aware of their stature as colleagues, they were closer than some realized, but not in a romantic sense. That's why although he disagreed with her, he'd keep it to himself. But he knew she was right, but at the same time, felt she was wrong. His thoughts immediately went back to Michael as they continued to hug for a few more seconds, before she slipped away indicating she was headed out with Hotch and Gideon. On the outside, it looked as if he understood her. On the inside, it was a whole different story.

He watched her walk away for a few seconds before turning around and heading through the double doors leading to the area of the hospital where the patients temporarily resided while being treated. He strolled down a hallway, rooms to his right, rooms to his left. He was so lost in thought that he didn't think to ask which room they put Michael in. Stumbling across his answer, he stopped and peered inside of Room 128, as the teenager's green sweatshirt immediately caught his attention. He slipped in behind Steven, who hadn't noticed him till he felt that comforting hand back on his shoulder. Feeling it but not acknowledging it, Steven kept his eyes fixed on the heartrending sight as Morgan paused and stood beside him.

There lay the 3 year old abuse victim, completely unconscious with an IV sticking out of his little motionless arm. This was a far contrast from the last sight Morgan had of the little boy, fighting and crying ferociously as the doctors were trying to detain him. Derek's eyes grew large and heavy, sadness weighing them down. This was not where a child was supposed to be. A child was supposed to be running around, smiling, laughing, playing happily. Michael had already been robbed of his childhood, the odds seeming to say that he had a slim chance of ever getting it back; getting back what was rightfully his. The more Derek thought about it, the sicker and angrier he became.

"What's going to happen to us?" questioned Steven, uncertain.

"I don't know." Morgan's voice was soft, yet he didn't even glance at the boy although his hand still rested firmly on his shoulder.

"Are they going to put us with another family?"

"With situations like this, they usually split kids up." Derek didn't even think before the words spilled out of his mouth.

Steven immediately panicked. "What? No! Michael! Michael!"

Morgan suddenly swooped in to try and calm the young man down, grabbing him somewhat forcefully around the shoulders, the agent's arms too powerful to fight out of. "Steven…Steven….Steven!" He continued to shout his name more worriedly than angrily. He couldn't be angry. He understood the emotions behind the frightening scenario.

"THEY CAN'T SPLIT US UP!" cried Steven as his actions ceased. He dropped to his knees, still in Morgan's firm grip, and began to sob uncontrollably. Morgan's clench went from forceful to comforting in a second, as he realized the full sensitive nature of the situation. Those kids had been beaten and tortured for years. There was nothing that said it wouldn't happen again and they had hung on with each other; they were there for each other, no matter what. To suddenly lose that bond was indeed a horrific situation, but a painful reality. Not if he could help it. Not on his watch.

"Steven, listen to me," he said in a comforting tone near the youngster's ear. "I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure this comes out right. I promise you."

Startled by the commotion, the physician ran back into the room. "Is everything alright in here?"

Morgan nodded as the scene spoke for itself. The doctor then quietly left the room as Steven's crying continued, all the emotions that had been pent up all this time seeping out like a broken faucet. "You guys have been through hell, you hear me? I'm not about to let any of this have a chance to repeat itself. I'm going to make sure you're both put into good homes, and make sure that you won't be split up. Everything's gonna be okay, I promise."

Promises are meant to be kept, aren't they? Will an un-kept promise only increase the pain to possibly unbearable levels? Morgan was caught in the bull pit. On one hand, there was CJ, Hotch, Strauss, and his career. On the other, the heart wrenching agony his spirit told him it was an injustice to simply flee from. He never once considered himself a hero, but he couldn't consider himself a human being either to just walk away, giving fate another chance at the upper hand. Is that what he would want for himself? What kind of precedent would this set for his future as a father when his time came?

Is it always the right thing to follow the majority opinion, or is it the right thing to follow your heart? He truly didn't know what to do. He had been dragged in way over his head, and he would be lying if he didn't at least admit to himself that it frightened him, deeply.

He decided to do the only thing he could do. Take things one step at a time.