Author's Note: Finals are finished, grades are in, Dean's List is mine, and classes don't start up again for another freakin' month! *Punches air* Now all I have to do is figure out a way to keep myself from going insane while waiting for The Battle of Five Armies, Cinderella, Jurassic World, Star Wars, Star Trek, and The Friends Movie to come to theaters near me.

Ah, well . . . I have this stuff. And all of you guys. *Smiles* As always, your follows, favorites, PM's and reviews make me squee just a wee bit, and have been helping tremendously in this story – especially so, since I'm still way out of my element. (God, I want to hide in my Criminal Heroes universe again . . .) But of course, marcallie, you have got to stop guessing what I'm going to do next! What, are you reading my diary?

I jest . . . I love you all s'much. You make Five Nights At Freddy's less terrifying . . . and writing this more fun. So, my apologies for the Author's Note that's half as long as the chapter. It's my intention to post again when I get back from visiting the brother and sister, and am hopefully less asleep and more refreshed. Until then, have another chapter, and have a lovely weekend!

Warnings: This fic contains no relevant spoilers that I can see. However, there is going to be some mild violence, much language, and angst as far as the eye can see. And, for that matter, prepare yourselves for a little OOC-ness. I guess.

Disclaimer: The amount of stuff I own grows ever larger and more terrifying. But anything resembling Criminal Minds as a whole has yet to be found. Stupid CBS with their 'rights' and 'contracts.' Grr.

I love reading reviews, but I know people hate writing them. The decision, my lovelies, is yours.

Do enjoy!

Chapter Five:

Then Again

A pin dropping could have shattered the silence in the room, but not the tension.

Derek took a visible step back, almost like he'd been slapped, and Reid flinched at his pained reaction, wrapping his arms around his midsection as if to comfort himself.

It was a moment of total, shocked silence before anyone spoke again. As chance would have it, it was Morgan.

"What did you say?"

Reid glanced up, tendrils of his curly hair falling into his eyes, but doing nothing to stifle the heat of his gaze as he stared at the other man. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

Frustrated and still very much disturbed from what he thought he'd just heard, Morgan snapped, "Spencer."

Reid took a moment before he seemed to regain the ability to speak again. When he spoke, it was in a weary, wary tone. "You asked what happened to my eye."

"Yeah. And you said – "

"That it was you, Derek. You happened."

Morgan struggled to keep the fury from his voice. "What, exactly, do you mean by that, kid?"

He took a step forward without thinking, and Reid instantly raised his hands his chest, defensive and trying to block Morgan from him. When he did so, his shirtsleeves tugged down, and Morgan was suddenly able to see the collection of darkened bruises covering his wrists. Without thinking, his hands shot forward, and he grabbed Reid's arms, pulling the younger man to him in his effort to get a closer look.

In his unforgiving grip, Reid instantly panicked. He tried to rip his arms away, but Morgan's grasp proved to be much stronger, and he whimpered slightly as he squirmed to get away. When Morgan's hands tightened, he squinted his eyes shut, just barely fighting back the memories of last night.

No, no, no.

Instantly, the hands around him loosened, and Reid pulled arms back, stepping away blindly in his instinctive effort to create some space between him and Morgan.

The older man stared at him as he drew his hands around himself once more, creating a façade of safety.

When Morgan spoke, it was with an edge of hurt in his tone. "I wasn't going to hurt you, kid."

Reid took in a breath, and when he looked at Morgan, his eyes were wider than the other man had ever seen them. His voice cracked as words tumbled past those beautiful lips.
"You already did."

Morgan looked shocked.

Reid winced at his expression, and clasped his arms around himself, a show of pseudo-comfort. Undeterred, however, he continued on, just barely maintaining eye-contact.

"L-last night, Derek. We came home late, and – and we had a beer before setting in for the night."

"I think I can remember that," Derek murmured, searching through his brain for the missing to pieces.

When exactly had getting a drink with his boyfriend started yielding cuts and bruises?

Reid frowned, his brow furrowed, and continued, "I – I tried to make us talk about the case – and I know I shouldn't have, not when I could see that you didn't want to talk about it, but I kept p-pushing, and – and . . ."

He trailed off, his eyes haunted, and Derek wanted to kick himself five times over for whatever he had said or done to give his lover's beautiful features that terrible expression.

After a moment, Reid seemed to collect himself, and steeled his frame, spitting out the last bit in a rush.

"You got a bit d-drunk, and kind of . . . grabbed me." He tensed with the memory. "Things . . . escalated, and when you were in the kitchen to grab more alcohol, I left. I spent the night in a hotel." The genius looked up to see Derek shaking his head.

"Things escalated? At what point did escalation substitute for – for an attack?" Derek felt nauseous just saying the words, even more so as he looked at the marks around his Pretty Boy's hands and face.

Reid tugged nervously on his sleeves, not answering, and Morgan grabbed hold of his chin, tilting it up and forcing the younger man to look at him.

"Reid. Spencer. Tell me what happened."

Lips trembling, the conflict was obvious in Reid's shining eyes, and several beats passed before, meekly, he decided to respond.

"You just . . . you p-pushed me up against the wall, and started y-yelling at me. Things about Buford." Reid's face crumpled in disgust as it did every time he had to utter that name, think about that sick evil man. It was only when Morgan shuffled his feet a bit that Reid seemed to remember himself. He shook his head.

"You sort of – you slammed me against the d-door, and . . ." his hands flittered to his neck for a brief instant, and he spilled out, "and I blacked out."

He was a profiler, he should have been a better liar. But Morgan was a profiler, too, and he had seen then slight movement in Reid's fingers, seen him angle his neck as far away from Derek as he could.

Unthinkingly, Morgan's hands again shot forward, and his suspicions were confirmed when Reid flinched away from his touch, when he tugged the genius's collar slightly down and took in the handprints on his neck.

His legs almost gave out beneath him.
"I – I did that?"

Unable to meet his eyes, Reid nodded.

"You were . . . out of it, Morgan. Not you, not even close. I don't – I-I can't – "

He stepped back, and Derek did nothing to hold him there, his hands sliding off of Reid's shoulders and falling uselessly to his sides. While his eyes looked clear and breathing was normal, everything inside Morgan was a mess; his thoughts and feelings all clashing together in wave after wave of crushing guilt and frustration, bleeding into the shock that had seeped down his spine and making his stomach turn with every additional mark he could make out on his Pretty Boy.

There were quite a few. And that was with Reid wearing a shirt, doing his best to keep all of them out of sight of his lover . . .

Well, if they even were anymore.

His insides coiling with dread, Morgan looked up, waiting and, practically nauseous, met Reid's eyes; still bright and beautiful, they revealed none of the same feelings that Morgan was sure his did.

He had to take a moment to make sure he was still steady on his feet before he attempted to speak.

"Are we – ?"

He couldn't get the words out, thought he would choke on them if he did.

Reid jerked slightly, and immediately, Morgan wished he could take the moment back, make it so that it had never happened. A few seconds ago, this morning, last night . . .

None of it.

Reid crossed his arms, rubbing up and down as if to warm himself, and took in a deep breath, shuddering slightly. "I d-don't . . . I don't know, Derek."

Morgan flinched back from the words as if they struck him physically, recoiling from the possibilities that they had hidden beneath them.

He could lose his Spencer? His boyfriend, his best friend, his little brother and catch of a lifetime? His Pretty Boy?

His legs felt like giving out again, and Morgan reached out blindly, stumbling, his hand finding purchase on Spencer's shoulder.

His sore one. Reid winced, and tensed under the older agent's fingers, but forced himself not to pull back, knowing that that would be only more devastating to something already going horribly wrong. He looked up, searching Morgan's face, trying not to be hurt when Derek couldn't even meet his eyes.

"I don't want to lose you, D-Derek. But I . . ."

But I what? How exactly does one tell someone they've cared for, loved, that the very sight of them now ignites fear, and not pleasure?

How could he tell Morgan that, even though he knew that the man would never hurt him, well . . . technically the bruises were there to contradict him now? That he wanted to back up and run away with every fiber of his being right now, and not even be standing here, talking about this? That Morgan's touch wasn't making him want to get closer, but flee instead?

Reid shook his head, trying to bite back the tears he could feel forming there.

The entire time, Morgan stared at the floor, the wall, the little window in the corner . . . anything but the person he loved.

The person he wasn't sure loved him anymore.

Morgan stepped back, disentangling himself from Spencer in any way possible, every way possible, and walking so fast that it was nearly a run, he fled to the door.

He paused for just a second before pushing it open, wiping his face clean of all emotion, pretending that his heart wasn't being broken from the inside out, pretending that everything was fine, that he was fine, that nothing unusual had gone down in this bathroom.

Pretending that he didn't hear the tiny, strangled voice whispering, pleading, "Derek."

Steeling himself, Morgan pushed through and left, the wooden door swinging shut behind him with a quiet whisper.

Then, and only then, did Reid finally let the tears fall.