AN: Eldest is back to school and my little bit is still sick. So I suppose I'll be writing a lot today J Here's a Monday treat. Yes, I know Morgan is being tortured. No, I don't enjoy it—you have to admit its totally in line with his character, and it is a really disturbing trend when you think about it. Anyway, expect a couple more angsty chapters leading up to Wednesday . . . then MAYBE we'll get somewhere with our favorite pair. As always, thanks for all the reviews!

Chapter 7

Morgan didn't any more sleep that night. He sat with his phone in his hands for awhile. He desperately wanted to call Garcia, to make sure she was okay. He needed to hear her voice. But then he would have to explain his strange behavior and he wasn't ready to do that. He closed his eyes, and was immediately accosted by images from his dream. He groaned. He had seen so many dead, mutilated bodies in his time, but seeing his baby girl that way, even knowing it was a dream.

What did the addition of Sarah's method of death to his repertoire of horrible nightmares mean? Sarah and Gideon had once been involved, but were just friends at the time of her death. Her death hadn't even planned—it had been completely by accident that Frank had found her in Gideon's apartment all those years ago. Was the message to be gleaned from this new addition simply that the men of the BAU really were destined to be alone? Or that perhaps it didn't matter what he did . . . nothing could protect her if the wrong person happened along her path. His heart absolutely ached at that thought, because in a way he knew it was true. He hadn't been able to protect her from Battle, after all. The world was filled with dark, cruel creatures that would snuff out any light given the opportunity. Hotch, Gideon, Reid—they were all capable and skilled FBI agents. But they hadn't been able to stop the deaths of women close to them.

Morgan stood up in a rush. He couldn't keep thinking about this. He headed down the stairs to his home gym. Turning the music up loud enough to drown out his thoughts, he took his frustrations out on his heavy bag until the sun came up.

xxx

It was a little before seven when Morgan walked in to the BAU. He had been surprised to see Ester in the lot—Garcia usually came in closer to nine. He dumped his go bag and jacket in his office and headed to hers. He was desperate to see her, hoping that the sight of her alive and well would wipe out the images that invaded his senses every time he closed his eyes.

Her door was open, and he leaned against the frame as he drank in the sight of her. She was deeply engrossed in whatever she was doing at her babies. Periodically, she would roll her chair from one screen to another. She was a breath of fresh air, dress in an airy blue dress that made him think of spring. She had two silly pony tails on top of her head and a blue flower attached to each.

"Oh come on!" she ranted. She slid over to the next screen, looked at a file on the desk and flipped through it. "You can't hide from me you smarmy little shit."

That make him chuckle. She whirled her chair around. "Geez, Morgan, you scared the crap out of me!" she complained. She grabbed a stress ball from her desk and chucked it at his head. "How long have you been standing there?"

He caught the ball and gave it a squeeze, stepping in to her office. "Long enough to feel sorry for whoever you are trying to catch," he joked, leaning his hip against her desk. "What has you here so early, Goddess?"

"Hotch has me running stuff on a few of the open cases we have. Between that and maintenance on my babies, I've been uber swamped. Didn't make that up last night." She looked him up and down, then frowned. "Don't take this the wrong way, hot stuff, because you know you are a beautiful specimen of a man, but you look like hell. You okay?"

He scrubbed his hand over his face. Leave it to her to see right through him. In an office full of profilers, she was the one that could see through him the quickest.

He nodded. "I'm better than the guy you are looking for," he quipped. "He's screwed."

She reached over and put a hand on his. "Derek," she said gently, looking up at him. "I'm still not an idiot." The matter-of-fact way she said it had him smiling a genuine smile again.

"Fine," he said. "I'm better now that I've seen you. Happy now?"

She regarded him carefully. "I'd be happier if you would tell me what's bothering you."

He tapped her on the nose. "It's nothing, sweetness."

"Not buying it D." She handed him her coffee cup. "But I can see you aren't going to tell me anything, so at least make yourself useful and go get me some coffee."

xxx

Garcia watched Morgan carefully as he left her office in search of coffee. Something was definitely up with him—he looked as if he hadn't slept last night. This alone was not cause for major concern—he was an insomniac even on the best of days and this had been a tough couple of weeks. What really worried her is that even when he smiled, it didn't reach his eyes. He looked deeply troubled, as if he thought his world would crash around him at any moment. It was the same look she had imagined on his face every time she talked to him while he was in Chicago last year, looking for his cousin Cindy. She wished he wouldn't shut her out—she would have thought that after all these years, they would be past that.

He brought her coffee back a short time later, when she was up to her ears in financial data. "Give me a sec," she said, eyes never leaving her screen. She was so close to getting something useful on this guy.

She felt his hand cup her cheek. "It's okay baby. Work. It is, after all while we are here." He pressed a kiss to her head, and left.

She paused her key strokes for just a second, thinking about going after him, to ask him again what was troubling him. But he was right, work came first. Maybe if she could get something useful to give to Hotch, he could send information in his consult that would allow the local P.D. to nail this unsub without the team stepping in.