Fic: Deep Sleep - Morgan

[shamir-26.livejournal.com]

Character: Derek Morgan

Rating: FRT

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters of the show Criminal Minds. No infringement intended

Warning: Minor spoilers to 6x23 Big Sea, (only reference to the location, no more)

Summary: Sleep is the only moment when profilers expose their troubles and fears without being able to control them, so I decided to try and dig into their minds to see what’s most frightening or bugging them. There will be one shot for each profiler, all the stories are completely independent from each other and take place in different moments, the only common theme being sleep

Notes: Beta’d by the amazing freddlerabbit 

 

 

 

 

Morgan: Family Man

Morgan lazily opens his eyes as the sun starts setting at the horizon over the sea; as he sits up he feels a mixture of salt and sand on his skin. The air is still warm from this summer day, but the approaching night is bringing along some chill. The beach of Jacksonville is deserted and the waves, regularly breaking on the shore, are the only source of noise.

He lets his gaze wander over the surface of the sea, which seems made of diamond scales, as the last rays of sun dance in the sky.

Only then he notices three figures standing on the shoreline, playing gleefully with the wash of the tide, chasing the water as it comes back to its source and running away when a new wave climbs up their legs.

He can make out only their profiles in the backlight, but he guesses it’s a mother with her two children; for some reason this image gives him a mixed feeling of joy and anguish at the same time.

The woman lifts her head and stares at him, then she rises a hand in his direction and he responds in kind. All of a sudden everything seems so familiar.

The woman calls the kids and whispers something in their ears, they turn toward Morgan and start running toward him. He welcomes them with open arms as they run to his embrace with abandon; they’re covered with sand and water, and they can’t stop waggling and giggling. They hug him back, with the complete confidence and trust only children are capable of, because they don’t know there are dangerous things out there.

A sudden pang of fear darts through his mind; how is he going to protect them?

This latent anguish is momentarily waved away as the woman sits down beside him and leans close to seal their lips in a kiss.

For a moment he wonders what is this feeling climbing to the surface of his conscience: confusion, doubt, uncertainty?  No, it’s fear. Pure, utter, fear.

The man who drove an ambulance, carrying a bomb ready to explode, through New York, is now terrified at the prospect of having a family to look after.

 

His thoughts are stopped by her hand gently running on his cheek. “Don’t worry” she chants smiling, “Everything will be fine. We’ll be fine”

He believes her, he wants to. But deep down, he knows he can’t.

 

“What about when you’re away on a case?” another female voice takes him aback.

He turns and finds Prentiss standing few meters away from him, staring at the horizon.

“They’ll be with their mother. I’ll call them every night,” he answers, frowning.

She shrugs “ All right. If you say so…” she responds unusually coldly, her gaze still locked away.

“What? You don’t think I can do it?” he questions defensively.

“Haven’t said that” she doesn’t falter, but still won’t look him in the eyes, “What I’m saying is that a family is not a kitten that you can leave to the care of a neighbor.”

“Prentiss, what the hell are you saying? I told you, the mother is going to be with them” he angrily reacts, he can’t stand her detached, mocking tone. Or maybe he can’t take the truth.

“The mother will not be there forever,” Hotch offers from another standpoint. He’s staring at the horizon too “I know that, first hand.”

“Hotch, this doesn’t mean I’m going to lose her” Morgan fights back, but he can feel his certainty slowly crumbling.

“Maybe she’s not the one who’s leaving.” Reid joins the group and stops right behind Prentiss, his gaze is lost in the distance.

Morgan is about to answer in kind, when a little hand pushes his T-shirt.

“Daddy, don’t worry. We’re gonna be fine once you’re gone” The older boy reassures him, his eyes filled with sadness.

Morgan furrows in confusion, for some reason this sounds like a goodbye. A similar heartbreaking promise, rises from the well of memory; a memory he doesn’t want to associate with this moment, with his family.

 

Then all of a sudden shots and cries break the quiet. Derek looks around, then searches for support from his colleagues, but they’ve all vanished. He draws his gun and tells his family not to move, then he goes after the shooter, who is running away. He runs. He runs without thinking of anything other than to catch this man, the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

The sunset and the beach are now miles away. He’s chasing a hooded figure through the poorest outskirts of Chicago; this bleak landscape is familiar to him, he grew up here.

He finds himself in a deserted alley. It’s a dead end and the shooter is trapped. He turns and Derek can see a young man with a gun, panic and rage in his eyes.

Morgan is a trained agent; he knows he’s going to be faster. He knows how to handle stressful situations; but when he sees a child, his child, in the line of fire, he hesitates.

He doesn’t feel any pain, just a tugging noise as the bullet hits his chest and crushes his lungs. It’s an excruciatingly slow moment, yet everything happens so fast. He grabs his son and shields him, he gets hit and responds to the fire, then his legs give in.

He checks to see the hooded figure lying lifeless, not far away, a growing red stain spreading on his jumper. Derek feels a pressure on his arm and turns to see his son, holding his hand and promising with brave tears that he’ll take care of his mom and his sister.

The profiler lets a silent, angry tear run down his cheek; then everything gets blurry.

 

He wakes up screaming, in a cold sweat. He’s almost relieved when the light of his bedside lamp reveals an empty bed. Nobody to take his bullets, nobody to leave alone.

Silently he waits until his breath evens out, his head in his hands.

He asks himself the same old question, ‘Why can’t I have a normal life? Why can’t I bring myself to choose it?’

Then he distractedly looks at the clock, helpless for an answer and slowly moves toward the shower.

 

Comments

[freddlerabbit.livejournal.com]

In addition to my comments you had on the first draft, I wanted to say - I think it's such a great choice for Morgan's head to put him in this particular dream. Each person, so far, has been in their unconscious in the state most important to them - for Reid, piece; for Hotchner, deciding; for Morgan, family. Family is such a key theme of his, which is an interesting choice for such a private character - and I think it's a great call here.

[shamir-26.livejournal.com]

Thank you very much!
I write following inspiration and ideas that come out of the blue; having you to give me an overall perspective of this collection of stories is really interesting and flattering! I love your take on this! Thank you!