Author note: This is second instalment in my untitled series. The first story is titled Schadenfreude if you'd like to check it out.
Chapter 1
The early May sun hung low in the Detroit sky, casting long shadows across the bustling airport terminal. Derek Morgan sat in his black sedan, knuckles white on the steering wheel, his dark eyes fixed on the exit doors. Two months. Two long months since he'd laid Emily to rest, and the ache in his chest hadn't lessened one bit. If anything, it had hardened into a cold, unyielding desire for justice.
His phone buzzed, Garcia's familiar voice filling the car. "Any sign of Clyde?"
"Nothing," Derek growled, scanning the crowd. "He better show. I didn't fly all the way to Detroit for nothing."
"He will," Garcia assured him, her tone softening. "If anyone can lead us to Declan, it's Clyde. And Declan is our best shot at finding Doyle."
Derek's jaw clenched at the mention of Ian Doyle's name. The man who'd taken Emily from them. Who'd robbed the world of her brilliance, her compassion, her smile. His fingers tightened on the phone.
"Baby girl, I can't thank you enough for covering for me. Hotch would have my badge if he knew I was here."
"Hey, what are friends for? Just... be careful, okay? Emily wouldn't want you to—"
"To what?" Derek snapped, immediately regretting his tone. "To hunt down the bastard who killed her? To make sure he never hurts anyone again?"
There was a pause on the line. When Garcia spoke again, her voice was thick with emotion. "To lose yourself in vengeance. We've already lost her. I can't lose you too."
Derek closed his eyes, fighting back the wave of grief that threatened to overwhelm him. "I know, I know. I promise, as soon as I have something concrete on Declan's whereabouts, you'll be my first call."
A sharp rap on the window made Derek jump, his hand instinctively reaching for his weapon. His heart pounded as he turned to face Clyde Easter peering in, an unreadable expression on his face.
"You're a long way from home, Agent Morgan," Clyde drawled as the glass lowered, leaning casually against the sedan's frame. His crisp accent grated on Derek's nerves.
Derek met his gaze unflinchingly. "I could say the same for you."
A humorless smirk tugged at the corner of Clyde's mouth. "I'm on vacation."
"No Brit's taking a vacation to Michigan." Derek's jaw clenched, irritation mounting with each passing second. "Come on, man, be serious."
Clyde's eyes narrowed, a flicker of annoyance passing over his face.
Derek's fingers flexed against the steering wheel, the urge to reach across and drag the truth from Clyde's smug mouth nearly overwhelming.
"You've been coming here often enough over the past few years. Why?" Derek demanded, arching an eyebrow. He'd done his homework, or rather Garcia has, tracking Clyde's movements, digging into his past. They both knew that this stateside visit was no coincidence.
Clyde's expression shuttered, his posture stiffening. "It's none of your business." He straightened up, taking a step back from the sedan. "So run along, back to that boss of yours and tell him this was a dead end," Clyde added, his tone dripping with condescension.
"Hotch doesn't know I'm here." The words tasted bitter on Derek's tongue, the admission of his unsanctioned mission hanging heavily in the air between them.
"Maybe he should." Clyde's voice hardened, a thinly veiled threat lurking beneath the surface. "Harassing an Interpol agent ought to warrant a slap on the wrist." He turned, retreating from the car and heading back toward the terminal with measured steps.
Anger surged through Derek's veins, propelling him halfway out of the car. "You do what you gotta do, but I ain't leavin'." His shout echoed across the parking lot, raw and defiant. "I know you're hiding Declan and I will find him."
Clyde's steps faltered, the name hanging in the air like a gunshot. He paused, shoulders tensing beneath the crisp lines of his suit jacket. The silence stretched between them, taut and thrumming with the weight of unspoken secrets.
Derek's heart pounded against his ribs, the thrill of finally getting a reaction from the unflappable agent tempered by the knowledge that he was treading on dangerous ground.
Clyde turned slowly, a mirthless laugh escaping his lips. "Declan? Doyle's boy?" He shook his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. "You're off base if you think following me will lead you to him."
Derek's jaw clenched, frustration simmering beneath his skin. "So you being here has nothing to do with Doyle, nothing to do with Emily?"
A sigh escaped Clyde's lips, the sound tinged with weariness. "You're like a dog with a bone, you know that?"
Derek stepped forward, his resolve unwavering. "Look, man, we want the same thing, so—"
"Really? How so?" Clyde cut him off, his tone sharp. "From where I'm standing, we're fighting very different battles."
"Then enlighten me, you cocky bastard." The words tumbled from Derek's mouth, unbidden and laced with barely restrained anger.
Clyde's gaze bore into him, a flicker of understanding passing across his features. "She meant a lot to you."
The statement hung in the air, raw and exposed. Derek swallowed hard, the ache in his chest a constant reminder of the void Emily had left behind. "Emily was my partner for four years. She saved my ass more times than I can count." He met Clyde's eyes, his resolve hardening into something unbreakable. "So you best believe that I'm going to finish what she started."
A beat passed, the weight of Derek's words settling between them. Clyde's expression shifted, a flicker of respect mingling with the ever-present wariness. He motioned toward the car, a silent invitation.
Derek hesitated, suspicion warring with the desperate need for answers. With a curt nod, he unlocked the passenger door, the click of the mechanism sounding abnormally loud in the stillness.
Clyde slid into the seat, the leather creaking beneath his weight. He rolled up the window, sealing them off from the outside world. "Drive."
Derek's hands gripped the steering wheel, the urge to demand answers warring with the knowledge that Clyde held all the cards. He pulled out of the parking lot, the tires crunching against the asphalt. "You wanna give me some idea of where we're headed?"
"No."
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the hum of the engine. Minutes ticked by, each one adding to the tension crackling in the air.
Clyde's voice cut through the stillness, sharp and unyielding. "Take the next exit."
Derek's knuckles whitened against the steering wheel, irritation simmering just beneath the surface. "You know I'm not your damn chauffeur."
"Then you shouldn't have been waiting for me." Clyde's retort held a hint of smugness, a reminder of the power he wielded.
Exit 194A loomed ahead, and Derek guided the car onto the ramp, the tires humming against the pavement. The city fell away, replaced by the sprawling expanse of the countryside. Trees blurred past the windows, their leaves a vibrant green in the early spring sunlight.
They drove in silence, the weight of unspoken secrets and unanswered questions hanging heavily between them. Clyde's directions were curt and harsh, a stark contrast to the tranquil beauty of the landscape unfolding before them.
Derek's mind raced, pieces of the puzzle sliding into place with each passing mile. The secrets, the lies, the twisted web of deception that had ultimately claimed Emily's life—it all led back to the man sitting beside him. And he'd be damned if he let Clyde keep him in the dark any longer.
The car rolled to a stop along a quiet residential street in Monroe, Michigan. Well-maintained homes lined the sidewalks, their manicured lawns and colorful flowerbeds a picture of suburban tranquility. Derek's gaze swept over the neighborhood, searching for any sign of the darkness that had brought them here.
"There." Clyde nodded towards a yard across from their parked car, where two children were engaged in a lively game of tag. A boy, perhaps ten or eleven years old, with light brown hair and a carefree smile, darted across the grass. "That's Benjamin."
Derek studied the boy, his brow furrowing. "So you changed his name, his hair. You think that's enough?" Skepticism dripped from his words, the weight of his gaze boring into Clyde.
"The boy's not Declan." Clyde's voice was firm, unwavering. "I wasn't lying when I said I don't know where he is."
Frustration bubbled up inside Derek, his patience wearing thin. "Then why are we even here? Do you just want to jerk me around?" He turned to face Clyde, his eyes demanding answers.
Clyde's gaze shifted, settling on a small girl with dark, curly hair as she raced across the lawn, her brother with an outstretched arm close behind. "No. She's why I'm here."
Derek followed his gaze, studying the child. Derek's eyes lingering on the girl's porcelain skin and the cascade of long, dark curls framing her face. Something in her cherubic features tugged at his memory.
"Her name is Robyn." Clyde's voice softened, a hint of something akin to tenderness creeping into his tone. "She's seven."
Confusion etched itself onto Derek's face as he looked back at Clyde, searching for clarity in the other man's expression. "She's Doyle's daughter." Clyde's words hung heavy in the air, the implications slowly sinking in. "She's also Emily's."
Derek felt as if the ground had shifted beneath him, his mind reeling with the revelation. He sat in silence for a long moment, his jaw clenched tight as he processed the information. "He got her pregnant? Why would she have his child?" The questions tumbled from his lips, a mix of disbelief and anger coloring his words.
Clyde sighed, his gaze distant as he watched Robyn play. "She wanted to be a mother at first. She never saw Robyn as his, not in that way."
"Well, things obviously didn't work out." Derek's voice was rough, the pain of Emily's loss still raw. "You changed her mind?"
"No, actually." Clyde's gaze grew distant. "She changed mine. She decided adoption was the safest option." He shook his head ruefully. "At the time, I didn't agree. But knowing what we do now..." His voice trailed off, the unspoken hanging heavy between them. Emily's death, still so raw. "I guess her instincts were right."
The weight of Clyde's words settled over them, a haunting reminder of Emily's untimely death. Derek bowed his head, grief and anger warring within him. When he looked back up, his eyes found Robyn, her laughter carrying across the yard as she chased after Benjamin.
In that moment, the resemblance was unmistakable. The curve of her smile, the sparkle in her eyes—it was like looking at a piece of Emily, a bittersweet reminder of the friend he had lost. Derek's heart clenched, a mix of sorrow and determination filling his chest.
He would finish what Emily started, no matter the cost. For her, for the little girl who carried her legacy, he would see this through to the end.
Derek tore his gaze away from Robyn, his mind racing as he turned to face Clyde. "So what's the plan?"
Clyde quirked an eyebrow, a hint of surprise flickering across his features. "I beg your pardon...?"
"Are you not here to warn them?" Derek asked incredulously, his voice rising with each word. "They should know that they're in danger. Let me call Hotch, get them into protective custody."
He reached for his phone, but Clyde's hand shot out, gripping his wrist with surprising strength. "No," Clyde protested, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Derek's eyes narrowed, anger simmering beneath the surface. "No? They're sitting ducks, waiting to be picked off one by one. You know better than I do what Doyle's capable of."
Clyde released his hold, leaning back in his seat with a heavy sigh. "Protective custody isn't the answer," he started, his gaze drifting back to the children playing in the yard.
"Emily didn't want her daughter living in fear, running for her life. I promised to protect this child, but I won't compromise Emily's wishes in doing so." Clyde's voice was steady, resolute. "They've never known the truth, and they don't need to know now, not if I can help it."
Derek shook his head, frustration mounting. "How can you say that? Emily's wishes... I know she'd want her daughter to be safe at any cost."
"She is safe here," Clyde insisted, his tone brooking no argument. "Until today, I was the only person who knew where she was. Emily wouldn't even allow herself that."
The words struck a chord within Derek, the realization of just how far Emily had gone to protect her daughter settling like a weight in his chest. Still, the idea of leaving them vulnerable, unaware of the danger that lurked in the shadows, felt wrong.
"That's really hard to believe," Derek muttered, his gaze drifting back to Robyn.
Clyde leaned forward, his expression intense. "That's fine, but it's not a lie. Listen, there is nothing that can be traced back to Emily or Doyle. That is, as long as you keep it that way."
Derek hesitated, torn between his instinct to protect and his loyalty to Emily's memory. "You're sure about that?"
"Positive." Clyde's response was immediate, unwavering. "I know your team works on transparency, and you follow procedures, but in my line of work, keeping secrets keeps people alive."
Derek's jaw clenched. The irony wasn't lost on him. "From my standpoint, secrets get people killed." Images assaulted him. Emily's blood on the warehouse floor. Her final breath rattling in her chest.
Clyde met his gaze, unflinching. "Even if Emily had told you the truth, do you really believe that you could have saved her?"
"Yes," Derek responded without hesitation, his conviction unwavering.
A mocking laugh escaped Clyde's lips. "Then you know nothing, Agent Morgan."
Derek's fist tightened, the urge to wipe the smug look off Clyde's face nearly overwhelming. "Don't patronize me, man."
"Then don't undermine me." Clyde's tone was sharp, cutting. "I'm right about this. When Doyle's caught, then you can decide if you tell your team. Only then."
The weight of the decision settled on Derek's shoulders, the burden of secrecy already chafing against his principles. He thought of Penelope, her warm smile and unwavering support, and the idea of keeping this from her felt like a betrayal.
"And if I don't want to wait that long?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
Clyde's expression darkened, his words a chilling prophecy. "Then that little girl's blood will be on your hands."
The words hung between them, heavy with promise. With threat.
A movement caught Clyde's attention, and he nodded towards the house. Clyde's gaze flicked past Derek, mouth tightening. "We should go. Don't want to draw suspicion."
Following his line of sight, Derek saw Robyn's father. Watching them. Wary.
He swallowed past the lump in his throat, the sour taste of defeat. Of complicity. But in the end, there was no choice to make. He'd already failed Emily. He wouldn't fail her daughter too.
Thank you for reading!