Title: Alone
Summary: Post "Profiler, Profiled" He never needed a friend like he did then. But will anyone be there for him?
Rating: FRT
Disclaimer: Since you don't see stuff like this on TV, suffice it to say that they aren't mine.
Spoilers: 2x12 "Profiler, Profiled".
A/N: Not beta'd, so all mistakes are mine.
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To be alone is to be different, to be different is to be alone.
-Suzanne Gordon
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The days since his return to Virginia had been a lot of things for Derek Morgan. They were hard, painful, emotional and sleepless. Sure, he'd catch naps whenever his body forced the issue, but he never crawled into bed and willingly fell asleep. He just didn't trust his mind, he just knew he wouldn't be asleep long. So, in an effort to remain awake as long as possible, there was always strong coffee in the pot. And every cup was loaded with enough sugar even for Reid.
He'd long since lost count of how much coffee he'd had, and how many walks around the neighborhood he'd taken with Clooney…who, so far, was the only friend he felt he had. Derek had traveled back to Virginia alone after spending a few days with his mother and sisters while the others went back just as soon as they could. And he had yet to face the people he now coolly regarded as his teammates…no longer his friends. He wasn't sure if he could, especially now that they knew. On top of the perceived betrayal at their hands…
With both hands wrapped around the cool mug, he took a sip of the overly sweetened liquid. He felt his body growing weaker, and suddenly chugged the coffee down so he wouldn't fall asleep. He heard his phone ringing, and picked it up to see that it was Hotch calling him. He just tossed the phone aside, Hotch wasn't someone he wanted to talk to at the moment.
As he unwillingly dozed on the sofa, he thought of how he wished there was someone who he didn't feel betrayed him. He knew it wasn't logical, but then again, he also knew emotions never were. As the coffee and the surfacing memories fully woke him up, he got up to refill his mug, and opted to listen to the waiting message on his phone.
"Morgan…call me. We need to talk."
Short and sweet, Derek mused bitterly as he poured the sugar into his coffee. But he didn't really expect anything else from Hotch. So he went back to the sofa, turned the TV on and flipped through the channels until he finally turned it off. There was just nothing he wanted to see. Soon, the only sounds heard inside the apartment came from outside its walls. The only time that changed was when Clooney softly whined, placing his head on Derek's lap in his own attempt to make Derek feel better.
"I'm sorry, boy…I'm just not good company," Derek told Clooney, reaching down to scratch behind the dog's ears.
And so they sat, man and dog, as the night stretched on, leaving Derek to think about his past, and ponder his future.
FIN