AN: Spoilers for 8x15, Broken. Also, note the ratings change—changing to M just in case, because of the mature content covered in 8x15 and because it's hard to not get them hot and heavy :-) This will be the last chapter before tonight's episode. It's a shorty. Hopefully they will give us all something to carry us through the next 3 weeks of no new episodes. Thank you all for the wonderful reviews, and I hope you ENJOY!

Chapter 10

Garcia had run out of things to do around her house. She sank down on the couch and glanced at the clock. It was eleven at night. The team should be landing soon. They were coming back from a rather disturbing case in Texas involving an unsub who had been sent to an ex-gay conversion camp. She worried about how the case had affected her man. There were certainly parallels to be drawn between the abuse the unsub had suffered and Derek's own experience. Plus so much had been left unsaid between them the last night they were together.

After Morgan's confession on her couch several days ago, they had watched their movie. They had lain on the couch, discussing inconsequential nothings afterward. It wasn't too different from their usual movie nights, except that she had ended up laying chest to chest with him, cuddling in a far more intimate way that they usually did. Eventually Morgan had slipped his hands under the bottom edge of her shirt, gently caressing the skin there as they talked. If she had been a cat, she would have purred. They had fallen asleep like that, right there on her couch.

xxx

Morgan drove his truck towards Garcia's, thinking of the last time he had held her in his arms. He had been surprised when the sun peaking through the windows of her apartment had woke him up. It was the first time in a long while he had slept through the night, and certainly the first time since Maeve's death he had slept without being woken up by his horrible nightmares. He was intimately aware of his baby girl draped over him, her head resting on his chest. He was pretty sure her proximity had something to do with the absence of the dreams. This felt so much closer than laying next to her in a bed, with only her head resting on him. And yet it wasn't even a good start . . .

He shook that thought out of his head. He wasn't entirely certain what the was going to do. He still wasn't sure it was safe for them to be together. As much as he wanted her in every way, he wanted her safe even more. But since he had kissed her last night, he saw no harm in kissing her awake now. He gently tilted her face up and planted a kiss on her lips. She moaned softly, and responded.

"Good morning, beautiful," he murmured.

She opened her eyes and met his gaze. Shifting slightly, causing more contact in the place they wanted it most, she smiled up at him. "I'll show you a good morning, hot stuff."

He immediately felt as if he were on fire. Now it was his turn to groan. "Woman, we have to go to work. There aren't enough hours between now and then for us to go there." Still, he brought his lips to hers again, and lost himself in her warmth and softness.

Her phone buzzed, pulling him back to reality. She sighed and got up, reaching for it. "It's Hotch," she said, checking the text. "I need to head in."

Morgan told himself he wasn't disappointed. This was for the better. This gave him time to think about the situation. He kept telling himself that as she kissed him again, and kept repeating it as she went to go shower and change. He kept telling himself that as he drove home to change his clothes and get ready for work.

As he pulled up to her front door, he realized he still hadn't decided how to handle things. The rational part of his mind screamed that it would be a mistake to continue what they had started. It wasn't safe for her. He couldn't possibly give her what she needed. He was broken, not unlike Paul Westin.

He smiled as he saw her porch light on. He remembered something she had told him long before. "I'll leave a light on for you." She had that time, and so many times before. She knew of his demons, and loved him in spite of them. She knew him better than anyone; saw what he needed before he did. It was then that Derek Morgan knew then that there was nothing to decide. This was inevitable. It had been ten years in the making. He had given his heart to her years ago. She knew him inside and out.

She must have been listening for him, because as he walked up the steps to her door, it opened. She looked at him with love and concern shining in her eyes, and he knew felt as if he had finally come home. He grinned at her—the first real smile he felt like he had given in a long time. "Miss me?" he quipped.

"You have no idea," she said. She moved aside so that he could step through the door. He walked in and turned to face her. She closed the door and turned to him. And then he was on her, trying to touch every inch of her soft skin at once. He pressed her against the door, his mouth on hers. "I swear, woman, if you want me to stop you better tell me now."

Her answer was to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him closer; kissing him as if her life depended on it. Home, he thought again.