(Trigger Warning: Intense/Mature and Graphic Themes that may not be comfortable for all readers.)

You awoke to dingy and unfamiliar surroundings. Your eyelashes fluttering against your cheekbones like the wings of a hummingbird, as they struggled to open slowly. Your left eye felt weighed down, as though someone had left a heavy stone on top of your thin eyelid to simply hold it shut. The swollen nature of the surrounding skin, made your vision in that eye askew. And a throbbing pain flashed through your orb, as your left eye hesitantly opened in the glow of a pale and near burnt out light, that shrouded the dark room you had yet to recognize. The pain felt as though it was melting down the side of your face, the left side searing as though lava ran like the blood through your veins on the left side of your head. From your temple all the way down to your jawbone, the pain was overwhelming.

A low moan resonated from the back of your throat, it was faint and yet filled the small room with a muted and guttural rumble that seemed to echo off of the surrounding walls. It felt like you were waking from a slumber you never remembered laying down for. A drowsiness still trailing in your consciousness, weighing down on your body that felt sluggish, as your eyes fluttered open as they woke ever so slowly. The pain that pounded against the left side of your head, made the room seem tilted as you looked ahead. A dizziness from the throbbing that left the dark and peeling walls to look as though they were moving. Swaying back and forth, as though you were somewhere out at sea, and yet your bare feet sat perfectly flat against the roughed wooden panels beneath you. Your vision felt clouded, like there was a perpetual fog interrupting your ability to see your surroundings clearly or your mind's capability to think straight. But as your weak eyes slowly began to look downward towards your lap, through the dense flailing of your thin lashes, the sight that awaited for you seemed to clear the shadows away with a frightening ease. The glass that had been fogged by the clouding steam, was suddenly swiped through by a harsh hand and in its revealing path, you were left with a clarity that shook you to your core.

Your feet were bare, stripped of the sneakers that had once kept them warm and enclosed. Now, the pads of your toes scraped against the rough wood that seemed to be nothing but splinters and sharp shards. Although you craved for the normalcy of your shoes, that you didn't realize you had taken for granted, you were thankful for the fact that your legs were still denim clad and your pastel floral blouse still adorned over your chest and down your shoulders. The thin fabric doing little to ease the chill that settled in the air, as though you were stuck out in the middle of a winter snow storm minus the precipitation, but allowing you the modesty and the peace of mind that you needed. You could feel the cold metal of the chair you sat in soaking through the denim of your light washed skinny jeans, the chill shooting shivers up and down your spine. Erupting goosebumps up and down you arms, causing the hair that lined them to stand in the frozen shock. But it was the tight rope that was coiled around your wrists, tying you to the arms of the chair, that caused your anxiety to peak.

The binding material was chafing, the thick rope rubbing against the flesh of your wrists as you tried to move them. Wiggling your fingers as much as you could, before the harsh cord dug into your skin with a pain so sharp that it brought you to stop fighting against it. Feeling as though a match had been lit against your skin, the burning sensation swelling beneath your flesh that had been abraded by the unforgiving prickly rope. Your fingers beginning to feel cold and slightly tingly, as the pressure in which the scratching rope was tied around your wrists, was worryingly tight. Feeling like the blood flow would soon be cut off if the restraint's didn't loosen soon.

A fearful breath escaped past your trembling lips. Tumbling forward and you almost expected to see it freeze out in the stale air in front of you. It was different from the moan that had echoed in the room minutes prior, that one was low and aching with the pain and sluggish nature that your mind was struggling against. This was a croak of fear, that was full of the sound of heartbreaking tears, that you could feel collecting in the back of your dry throat. It was raw and afraid and full of pain. Both physical and emotional. But instead of freezing in a visible puff out in front of you, the cry that exhaled out from your lip parting gasp, disappeared into the air but it didn't fall on deaf ears. For as soon as you heard the unnerving echo of your stifled sob in the small space, a voice spoke out to you. It was a familiar voice, one that drew you back down from the monstrously dark thoughts and filled your tightening chest with a shadow of comfort.

"Hey, look at me baby," His voice was controlled. Feeling the familiar sense of calm that his voice always seemed to spark inside of you. However, beneath the surface of the tranquil nature he did his best to impose on your frightened demeanor, you could still pick up on the shakes that hid in the background of his tone. Slight trembles that you could tell he was doing his best to hide. "look at me."

Drawing your heavy eyes that were beginning to fill to the brim with burning and fearful tears, you turned your aching head slowly to the left. Feeling the crick in your neck, the painful bruising beneath your flesh, from the hesitant rotation. But as soon as your eyes finally landed on the owner of the soothing and familiar voice, all of the pain that plagued your body suddenly seemed to vanish as though it was never there to begin with. As though the swelling of your left eye and the darkening bruises that were beginning to trail their way down your porcelain flesh, were simply makeup that would wash away. For your watering eyes widened, as another painful cry escaped through your lips in a deep gasp, and you felt as the first tear overflowed without as much as a single blink of your dampened dark lashes.

"That's it, just look at me baby." But you couldn't bring yourself to meet his eyes, not when the second your head finally turned and your eyes landed upon his body, they were met with a sight that stole the air from your lungs and broke your bleeding heart in two.

Derek Morgan was strapped to an identical rusty metal chair, his hands that were tightly wound into fists on either side of him and were bleeding from the cuts that tore up his knuckles, were secured by the same rope that bound you captive. His feet were left bare against the splintering wood floor just as yours were, but you could tell by the deep scrapes and cuts that lined the soles and sides of his feet, that he had at one point struggled. Scratching at the floorboards with the only extremity that he could move, but only causing more harm to his body than good. Streaks of faint blood smeared against the wood and had already begun to clot against the side of his right foot, but that wasn't the blood that left you filled with an overwhelming sense of fear.

The flesh of his right arm was tainted red. Thick streams of deep maroon blood trickled down his arm, spilling out from the bullet wound, that tore through his muscle inches beneath the bottom of his shoulder. You could spot it peeking out from beneath the now torn sleeve of his light grey t-shirt, painting itself over the dark ink that marked his skin. The tight heathered fabric that had once fit well against the swell of his bicep, was now saturated in dark blood that continued to ooze out of the open wound. The current flowed down his arm in thin streams, wrapping around his aching extremity and completely coating his flesh in the harsh hue of unforgiving red. The trails trickled down his forearms, like raindrops racing down a windowpane and soon the droplets rolled down across the raised and angry veins of his clenched fists. The path soon combining with the blood that was just beginning to dry from his bleeding knuckles, until it finally began to drip over the edge of his fist and onto the wooden floor beneath you. Staining the floorboards in dark droplets that you knew could never be removed.

"Baby," His voice sounded so far away, even as you sat inches from each other. For it felt as though you were trapped inside of a fish bowl, the sound of his tone distorted and distant, as it echoed above the waves you found yourself drowning beneath. "baby, look at my eyes. Don't look at the blood, just look at my eyes."

You could hear the urgency in his voice, the concern that coated his every word. If his hands weren't immobilized, you knew that his fingers would be curling into your matted locks and his soft palms would press against the sides of your face. Forcing your head up gently in his grasp, and giving you no other choice than to gaze into his eyes. But you felt frozen. Your eyes wide and overflowing like a waterfall, with the burning tears that engulfed them. Your lips left parted in shock, as you couldn't rip your focus away from all of the blood that streamed down Derek's arm incessantly, and was beginning to form small puddles on the floorboards by his bare feet. The red seemed to seep into your vision, for it seemed as though the dark shade that stained his flesh was the only color you could see. And the strong scent of metal soon hit your nose, the smell bitter and sickening against your senses. You wanted to look away, but you were locked in the debilitating fear that ravaged your body.

"You've been shot." The words fell from your lips like the ghost of a whisper. Your voice broke as soon as it hit the atmosphere, as the frightened tears and overwhelming adrenaline consumed your body and the shaky tone of your feather soft voice. The words that slipped from your trembling lips felt foreign, the feel of them unnerving and sickening as they tumbled off of the tip of your tongue. But the effect they had on your shivering body, was nearly paralyzing. For the sight before you, didn't seem real. You prayed to the Lord above that your eyes would soon flutter awake, and you would find yourself shaking from a horrific nightmare, but safe. Safe in your bedroom, with Derek's freed and strong arms wrapped tightly around you as he rocked you back to sleep. But as the words fell past your lips, it was as though they cemented the reality.

"It's not as bad as it looks," His voice was gruff, the tone feeling as though he was biting down on a stiff and invisible slab of leather. Gritting through the pain, even as his words contradicted the sound of the affliction that overtook his body. He was strong, and for you, he would always be stronger. "I can hardly feel it."

It was the little white lie that tumbled it's way freely past his lips, that caused your eyes to finally blink. Burning as they cut through the current of fresh falling tears, and tearing through the dense fog that had impaired your vision. Your eyes slowly began to scan their way up his arm, away from the bloody bullet wound that tore through his dark flesh, and up towards his face. Blood was splattered across the chest and collar of his shirt, dying the fabric and continuing to torture your rapidly beating heart. And there was a thin streak smeared against the base of his throat, as though whoever shot him had wiped his hand of the blood as he tied Derek up. As your eyes continued upward, you finally realized that it was impossible to look away from the blood. For as the injury that soaked through his clothing and trailed down his body grew further away from your immediate view, his lower lip entered the picture. It was busted open, split and swelling a blistering red that matched the blood that it slowly oozed down his chin. Bruises patterned down and around his lower jawline, curving through the faint shadow of stubble and painting his flesh a purplish hue that bordered on black. And streaks of maroon trailed down from his nose, that looked nearly a size or two bigger than normal, beginning to dry and cake to his raw flesh.    

The sight of Derek, as instinctually comforting as it was to have him beside you, was terrifying. For the left side of your face felt as though you had taken a baseball bat to the side of the head, but when you looked at Derek, it was like he had taken the entire tree. He was battered, bloody and bruised, and yet, when your eyes finally lifted not even an inch higher and met his awaiting gaze, there was still a faint glimmer in his deep brown orbs. A light, twinkling in the distance, that your assailant had yet to extinguish.

"There's my brave girl." His lips were swollen to a size that nearly melted them into the rest of his face, but by the glimmer in his eyes, you saw a faint smile arise. One that was shadowed by the unthinkable pain that coursed through his strong body, but shone with the love that was still stronger than the ache.

A choked sob escaped you suddenly, as it expelled into the humid air with the blur of burning tears. In this moment, you felt anything but brave. Derek's words, meant to fill you with a comforting familiarity and calming warmth, only made you feel weaker than you already did. For all you could do was look at Derek with weary and overflowing eyes, staring at the blood that coated him nearly head to toe, and cry. Violent sobs racking your body, as you began to hear the clank of the metal chair scrape against the wood panels of the floor, as your shakes rocked the uneven legs back and forth.

"Derek," You cried out, your voice a higher pitch that drowned in your fear. "I'm so scared."

"I know baby, I know," He murmured in a gentle voice, and it brought forth a soothing nature that willed your eyes to lift once again, and meet his eyes that hadn't left your face since you had awaken.

"What's going on Derek, why are we here? What does he want from us?" You begged with an ache in your chest that felt puncturing. Deflating the air in your lungs and letting the hope saved away in your heart dissipate into the open air. Your wrists burned, as the rope wound tightly around them rubbed against the raw flesh as your hands bucked against the restraint. Pulling at the twine harshly, only digging the material into your blistering flesh further.  

"I don't know," Derek's voice was low. And although he was yet to be defeated, no matter how much blood he shed, you could hear the frustration in his tone. The unavoidable irritation he felt at his lack of control in this particular situation. His hands bound both physically and mentally. He hid away the exasperation as well as he could, along with the extent of the agony in his injuries he was experiencing, but you could still sense it. It wasn't often that Derek Morgan found himself in a situation without the knowledge and skill to get himself out of it, or the back up to help him do so. He didn't like to be completely out of control, left to the unpredictability that was beginning to eat at him in the building intensity. And you knew that your presence only made that feeling escalate. For his priorities immediately shifted, and all of his concern was now set on getting you out of here safe and as unharmed as he possibly could, no matter what it took.

"I don't know what he wants from us, from me." His tone, although controlled and honest, still stung with the fact that his lack of understanding of the situation sat wrong with him. But as you looked up into his eyes, that were trained intently on yours, you saw the softness in his gaze. The boiling anger and frustration of the situation sat just below the surface of his skin, you could nearly feel the heat radiating off of him. However, when he looked at you, there was nothing but warmth and compassion and love. "but I'm going to get us out of here, alright. I promise you, I will find a way to get us, to get you, out of here. I promise."

You believed him, whole heartedly, you believed him. For his words, saturated in truth that resonated from the deepest part of his heart, calmed you in a way no one other than Derek had the profound ability to. For it felt as though the melodic certainty in which he spoke, was a balm to your blistering wounds. And underneath the cooling effect of his tone, his words slowly began to stich your bleeding injuries back together. Painlessly, as his eyes kept you centered and engulfed in a place that was safe. A place where there wasn't pain, or fear or questions of what was to come. A place that was easy and calm and painless, where it was just you and him, and the rest of the world seemed to disappear from your reality.

His eyes were soft as they looked at you deeply. The deep brown of his irises melting to a warming copper that coated you in a layer of comfort. His lips, that were delicately curved into the faintest of compassionate smiles, matched in the soft hues of his eyes. The ghost of a smile that hovered against his busted and bleeding lip, wasn't gone from view, for it shone in his eyes that were captivating you. It was a calming sight, one that only reiterated the depth in his promise to you. He was going to get you out of this, with all of the power he had inside of himself, he would get you out safely... no matter what it took.

As your eyes, that were slowly beginning to cease in the seemingly endless flow of fearful tears, flickered down towards his bloody lip that was starting to turn the flesh surrounding the gash purple, you watched as they gently parted. The motion slow, as though to ease the lips open with little ache in the process. And you could see words teetering on the very edge of his tongue, just about to spill through his parted lips, until a loud screech of the large metal door across the room from you sounded. A terrified gasp escaped you as your eyes were instantly drawn away from Derek's calming aura, and catapulted back into the reality that filled your chest with the familiar anxiety that made it hard to breathe.

You could hear Derek's voice, as he tried to recapture your attention, anything to get the tears that had started to flow again in fear to still. But it was futile, as your eyes were locked on the large metal door that scraped against the wooden floorboards. The hinges creaked with a low groan that sent a shiver down your spine, as the sensation sounded as though a simple effect from a horror film. The metal was thick, as you watched it slowly open and expend outward into the small room you sat trapped in. And you saw as a thin streak of fresh light flooded from the opening. Bathing the dark wood in a light that seemed too beautiful to be in a room this hideous and hopeless. The thin ray of sunlight was too pure, for the darkness that engulfed this room. And it was never more prominent, as a foot stepped forward into the light. Crushing through the once elegant and unscathed seeming light, and became instantly tainted by the black leather of his boots.

His movements were hauntingly slow, drawing out the suffocating fear that clutched your palpitating heart harshly in it's grasp. For as his steps continued into the small room, both leather bound footsteps touching against the floorboards, you found yourself struggling to take a single breath. Even as Derek's voice echoed in your head, as he still tried with all his might to calm you down. Fear wrapped it's excruciatingly tight arms around your tired and bruised body, and overtook you. It overwhelmed you in a way that made it nearly impossible to be in control. You felt helpless, in not only the rope that bound you in place, but inside of your own body.

"She's finally awake," His voice entered the room before the rest of his body did. And it was unnerving to hear the normalcy in his voice, as you had no facial features to connect the voice to, only concocting up an image in your mind like human nature instantly does. There was something in the tone of his voice that told you this man wasn't going to be the face of evil like you liked to believe. He wasn't going to be dressed head to toe in black, with his flesh scarred with intimidating tattoos or healed over scars. He wasn't going to be gruff looking or what you would expect from a man who abducts and tortures people. Instead, as the sound of his voice slowly faded away as the words left the air, you were left with an image of an ordinary man. Someone you wouldn't think twice about, and something about that notion, turned your stomach. "now we can really get started."

His tone dripped with a sadistic smirk that soaked through his words like thick running blood. And the way it melded with the unnerving words he spoke, made a shiver run down your spine. But as you watched his hands press against the smooth metal material of the large door, the booming clasp of it made you jump in your seat. For as the thick door collided roughly with the wall, it sounded as though he had just sealed off a tomb. Causing the legs of the metal chair to scrape and squeal against the floorboards, as your heart lurched into your throat at the thundering noise. Your entire body was on a heightened wave, every little sound and every little movement was enough to send you soaring into a deeper panic. And the tightening of your chest was only made worse as the man who sealed your fate, slowly turned around and revealed his face to you.

You had never seen the man before in your life, but something about the way Derek sat completely still--or as still as he could while painfully bleeding out--and stared defiantly and without fear directly at him, told you that he had. The man was tall, maybe an inch or two shorter than Derek, but he towered above you it seemed. Like a redwood, as you cowered in fear in the weeds below. He was a rather fit male, his body toned underneath the navy material of his short sleeve shirt, but it was different than the muscle Derek was adorned with. His hair was a deep chestnut brown shade, the locks medium length as they looked almost windblown and disheveled as they parted over to the left. And his eyes were light, pale hazel that seemed too bright for a man who had bound you in twine and had shot Derek in the arm. There was nothing different about this man, nothing that made him stand out compared to the average man walking down the street. Just as you had suspected. And yet, just below the normalcy that camouflaged his surface, a darkness lingered. A wolf in sheep's clothing.

"Whatever it is that you're after, whatever it is that you want from me, take it. It's yours. You tell me what you want, and I can get it for you. But you have to let her go." Derek reasoned calmly, his voice sturdy and unwavering as he spoke to the man who stood feet away, equally in between the two chairs you and Derek bled in.

"You know, your boyfriend passed out too. He's used to having that handy FBI bulletproof vest to protect him, but it sure hurts like a bitch when a bullet rips through your body." The man's eyes shadowed over you, even at a distance, and it felt like a perpetual blanket of fog settling over your trembling body. "he wasn't out very long. Now you, you were out much longer than I was expecting. I must've really hit you pretty good on the head there, huh?"

His words dripped with a venom that you had only vaguely heard replicated in movies. One's that would make you bury your head into Derek's shoulder or shake with disgust, only for Derek's arms to wrap tightly around your shoulders and whisper sweet nothings in your ear to remind you it was only make believe. All the while, knowing full well the evil on the screen was no constitute to the real thing he saw every single day on the job. But he shielded you from the horrors of the world, keeping your innocence and the purity of your soul safe from the clutches of evil that lingered out in the world. He protected it for he knew how valuable it was.

"She doesn't need to be here," Derek spoke up again, trying to avert the man's disgusting attention away from you. "you can just let her go, and I'll stay in her place."

Although your captor's next words were aimed towards Derek, he didn't take his eyes off of you. They burned holes into your throbbing body, one after another, completely tearing through your surface until he could crawl his way beneath your skin. His sick smirk made your skin squirm as though he was truly underneath it, and the way his eyes stared into your own with an unnerving depth, made you feel as though you were a specimen underneath a microscope. Ever so slowly, with the shadows behind his hazel eyes and the poison that fell from his lips, inching back the layers of your flesh. Revealing the deepest parts of your soul and stripping you where you sat, bound and powerless.

"Oh," The corners of his lips slowly curled upward into a unnerving grin, as he exhaled a condescending sounding breath. One that made disgust and fear run through your veins simultaneously. "but she does. She is just as vital to this moment as you are Derek."

The way Derek's name sounded as it slipped between your captor's tauntingly smirking lips, sickened you. For it didn't belong there. It sounded foreign, as his name entered the air in a breath from someone as depraved as the man holding you captive. As though the word itself was different, unrecognizable almost, for it fell from the lips of someone who didn't deserve to say it. But what twisted your stomach into an even tighter knot, was the fact that he knew Derek by name. There was a history between the two men and it nearly drained the oxygen from the small room, as the contempt between them grew densely in the passing moments.

The man's eyes that had yet to stray from you since he entered the room and looked your way, suddenly began to grow closer. As his leather boots guided him smoothly across the splintered floorboards, and it was as though he slithered along the path like the serpent he was. For there was an unnerving ease in his slow movements, as though a mighty predator stalking it's prey slowly from a far. The placement in which he had stood only seconds before, felt far too close for any sense of comfort. But as his proximity grew closer, until his shadow fell over your body in a chilled shade that you could feel in the depth of your bones, there was no possible way to conceal the fear that wracked your body now.

The scent of him wafted around you like a cloud of smoke. An earthy tone lifted from the fabric of his shirt, as it shifted over the waist of his dark washed jeans, as he steadily bent down in front of you. His left knee brushing against the dark floorboards, as his right bent out to the side. His demeanor was relaxed, and it left you uneasy. For the sickening smile that still played at the edges of his slightly askew lips, and the way his eyes scanned over every inch of you now that he was nearly inches away, made you feel like nothing more than an object. You couldn't speak, you could barely even remember to breathe. But you felt as a single silent tear slowly fell from your salt soaked lashes, and glazed down your blotchy cheek at a burning and painfully slow pace.

"You," The warmth of his breath fanned against your skin, and although it almost seemed to lack a scent, it felt hot and sticky against your flesh. Making the crawling sensation that tingled throughout your body increase, and you tried to back away as much as you could. Completely digging your spine into the back of the metal chair, feeling as the rope tore into the flesh of your wrists. Dying the twine further with the dark crimson shade of your spilled blood. "are so beautiful."

And just as his words hit your ears with a shiver that shot down your spine, his hand reached out and pressed against the side of your head roughly. His palm grasping the side that was already screaming in aching pain from the initial blow, and now you could hear it squealing in terror as he had you physically in his grasp now. His skin was calloused, the flesh at the very base of his fingers rough as it scraped against the edge of your ear. And ever so slowly, as though to drag out the horrific feeling that soared and overwhelmed your trembling body, his thumb brushed against the tear that was continuing it's long and agonizing trail. His flesh hot as it met yours like a branding iron, and swiping the wet tear away from it's place on your cheekbone, it felt as though somehow he had burned the salt into an open wound. For it felt acidic, the way he cleared your skin of any trace of that lone tear.

You could hear the heavy sound of his breath, as he smiled sadistically straight into your eyes. But the real sound that overwhelmed your head and made your heart thunder harshly inside of your chest, was Derek who sat mere inches to the left of you. The second the man's hand reached out and made contact with you, you could hear his chair scrape roughly against the floorboards. And as the sickening words fell from his lips, you heard the low growl and banging of his fists against the metal arms of his chair as he fought against his restraints. It killed him, to see this scum of the Earth put his hands on you and speak to you in a way that was anything but complimentary. To be so close and yet incapable of stopping it.

"You know," The man spoke up and you struggled to inhale any semblance of a breath, fearful of the words that were to possibly come next. "my fiancé looked a lot like you. Her skin was pale like yours, no matter how long she spent out in the sun, she looked like she spent every day of her life in the dead of winter."

Your heartbeat hammered inside of your chest and you could hear it pulsating in your head. Almost as loud as the breaths coming from Derek, for he exhaled in deep huffs that nearly exited his body in clouds of burning hot smoke. He was fuming, and yet your entire body felt ice cold.

"She had curls in her hair, just like this. It always smelled sweet, almost like honey. And your color is just about the same, maybe a shade or two darker. Hers was a lighter brown, like a light caramel that always made me think of autumn time. It was a warm shade. Yours is richer, like molasses." His fingers moved down the side of your neck, twirling a strand of your thin locks around his pointer finger. Feeling the stretch of it between his fingertips and your breath stopped as he slowly lifted it towards him. Bringing the ends to the edge of his nose, and you watched his dark lashes flutter closed as he inhaled deeply. You felt lightheaded, the room spinning as you couldn't breathe. The contact was too much for you, and it left you sure that you were going to be sick at any given moment.

"Get away from her! Get your filthy hands off of her!" Derek shouted out, his chair screeching loudly against the floor, that was only causing more splinters to arise underneath the bare soles of his feet.

"There's something primal in it, isn't there Derek?" And slowly, your strand fell delicately from his fingers as he retracted his hand. "seeing your woman in the hands of another. It enrages the soul, setting the heart ablaze, until all we can see is red."

"You get the hell away from her you sick son of a bitch!" Derek growled, and everything inside of you wanted to look over at him. But you just couldn't bring yourself to tear your eyes away from the man crouched in front of you, for it almost felt like turning your back on him. And it frightened you to think of the things he might do if you weren't watching.

"It kills you, doesn't it? Watching something sickening... something unthinkable happening to the person you love, and there isn't a single thing you can do to stop it." The man's lips curled further up, as though he found a sick form of amusement from his taunting blow to Derek's conscious, that was already weighed down with his own guilt.

"She isn't a part of this, she's innocent. This is between you and me. You let her go, and take these restraints off of me and--" The fight was heavy in Derek's tone, and you knew that if you looked over, you would see his tightly wound fists white with fury.

"She is a part of this Derek!" The man laughed, one that made you jump in your chair as the sound boomed loudly in front of you. And as it fell in continuous cackles of pure amusement from his smiling lips, he stood up from his bent position in front of you. Allowing a breath to flood into your lungs as he moved towards the spot he stood minutes ago. "She's here... she's a part of this... because of you!"

And for the first time since entering the room, your captor shifted his heavy and suffocating gaze from you and unleashed it upon Derek's bleeding body. His lips were still smiling as though this moment was bringing him a sense of pure joy, and his eyes almost seemed to be a shade lighter as he looked at Derek now. He was sadistic, reveling in not only the physical torture of keeping you both bound, but in the psychological way he tormented Derek with his haunting words.

With another sharp laugh, the man spoke words that made your ears perk up and your heart hammer against your chest with a strength so strong, you feared it was about to break free. "Why don't you tell her why she's here Derek, go ahead."

It wasn't the taunting of the possibility of truth in your captors words, that prompted your head to turn achingly to the side. But rather the need to see Derek's face. You needed to look at him as he spoke, look into his eyes and find the real truth buried behind his beautiful orbs of deep melted copper. Turning your head through the painful crick in your neck, and blinking away the burning rush of tears that nearly glossed over your sense of vision, you looked at Derek with eyes that drowned in the need for answers. Looking at him, you yearned for him to tell the man whatever he needed to hear and to tell you the truth behind the reason for all of this.

Derek wore his rage as though it was apart of his flesh, for you could see the way his muscles tensed from head to toe. Even in his right bicep, that relentlessly continued to flow with rich crimson blood down his arm. His jaw was clenched tightly and he stared with a deadly gaze upward through his lashes at the man who stood mere feet away from him. His chair was askew, tilted and turned at a slight angle from his aggressive struggling, and it almost seemed to give you a better view of his face.   

"Come on Derek," Your captor edged him on, pouring gasoline drop by drop upon the roaring fire that burned deep inside of Derek. "I think she deserves to know why she's here, don't you?"

"This has nothing to do with her, and you know it." Derek tried to keep his composure, he bit his tongue and fought to keep his tone calm and controlled. All the while, limiting the extent of his pain from seeping into his words.

"September 28th," The man's tone shifted as the date passed through his lips, that had since slowly faded of his amused smile and resumed a neutral almost flat line. His demeanor was no longer like a cat playing with the canary before it had it for supper. It was now weighed down with a darkness that brought forth a serious and haunting tone, one that caused another shiver to extend down your spine. "do you remember that day Derek? Or do all of the innocent people you kill simply fade from your memory?"

Your heart sped up, feeling as though it was doing lap after lap around a racetrack. And your stomach, that was twisted into more knots than you could count, lurched and swirled like clothes in the wash. "Derek? What is he talking about?"

Your voice was meek, barely a squeak of a whisper, as it hit the air with a pressure so intense that it immediately caused Derek's eyes to dart from your captor's to yours. You couldn't help the question from falling past your lips. And as your eyes collided, you needed Derek to know that the question didn't stem from not trusting him or believing this man over him. It came solely from the fact that you still craved to know what he was talking about. There was an elephant that sat in the middle of the room, sucking the air dry of the humid oxygen your burning lungs craved, and it needed to be clarified. If not for rectifying this situation, than for your clarity and peace of mind.

"Yes Derek," The man's smile returned as your words entered the dense void. "What is it I'm talking about? Would you like to tell her... or should I?"

Derek's eyes pleaded out to you. They begged for your trust, they begged for your understanding and they begged you to be stronger than this horrible man's mind games. Derek knew you couldn't help it, that the question had to be asked, for you were an innocent caught up in something terrifying and out of your depth, and you had no understanding of why.

"September 28th, Philadelphia, we'd been there three days," Derek's voice was low, his tone steady and reluctant but his words floated through the air with conviction and certainty. And the entire time, he kept his eyes completely focused on you. For he didn't care to see the man's face, his expressions, his enjoyment in Derek's confession. All he cared about was you. And so, he told you the story as though it was just you and him. Alone. "there'd been a team of shooters. A male and a female, they worked small convenient stores and gas stations in the area. Heavy artillery, they'd go in and completely shoot up the place. Bodies lined the floors, the shelves and counters ransacked and left completely demolished. Blood was smeared all over the tiles and sprayed against the fridges and walls. Each scene was this bloody massacre of innocent people."

"There were never any witnesses, none left alive anyway. They disconnected security cameras and cased the joints days in advance. They were smart, sadistic and on a spree. But when a team of psychotic and delusional killers, who think they're a warped version of Bonnie and Clyde, end up on a spree completely strung out of their minds with more vodka in their veins then anything else, they make mistakes."

"We got a call for an active shooting," Derek explained as he exhaled a deep sigh, and your heart hammered alongside his heavy words. You didn't hear about many of his cases, he never liked to share too many with you. Occasionally, he would talk about one as you laid in bed together after he'd finally gotten home. Tangled in the sheets, he'd whisper the overview of it softly as though he needed to expel it from his shoulders and release the weight. It was never a case that left him shaken, for he didn't want to put those kind of images in your mind. It was usually one that had a rare happy ending, which was why those kind of nights and confessions were far and few in between.

"It was another gas station, just minutes away from the station we were set up at. So we rolled down there, with S.W.A.T. and the local police. We didn't get there in time to save any of the people who were inside, but we did get there just as they were getting ready to leave. We surrounded them, there was no other way they were getting out of there than in the back of the squad cars or a body bag."

"The woman fired at us," Derek's eyes squeezed shut for a brief moment, as though he was right back there in that moment in time. "I remember catching a glimpse of her face, before the bullets started to fly. She was smiling. Her head was so messed up that she was enjoying emptying her firearm into a crowd of police and FBI agents. We were ducked behind our vehicles, and I remember reaching for my gun, and I had a shot. That one shot that could've been ruined in a single second if I had waited any longer, so I took it."

Your lips were parted as small breaths of air seeped through the thin opening. Your eyes burned with the glisten of new tears that glazed over the rims, still looking over at Derek who had since opened his eyes again. And in another rarity, you saw a glimmer in the depth of his brown eyes, of the weight he carried with his job. He tried his best to leave it all at the door when he came home, shielding you from the horrors and real life nightmares that played like a stuck record in his memory from cases gone by, but there was every so often a case that he couldn't shake. A day that couldn't wash away in the scalding rush of the shower, and you would catch a glimpse of the strength it took to do what he did every single day. And it amazed you with every little look inside.

"She dropped instantly, and the man, who had begun shooting alongside her, suddenly stopped. He looked at her for a minute, and I was sure he was going to go to her. But instead, he turned and he ran."

Derek's eyes, that were focused on yours as though it grounded him and kept him from feeling the extent of his wounds, blinked and slowly looked upward. Turning his steady gaze away from you and back towards the man who's face was as tense as Derek's. His lips were flat as you faintly saw his bottom pulled inward by his teeth. And his jaw was locked as his eyes stared at Derek with a stare that made you feel uneasy.

"I remember every time I pull my trigger, especially when it comes with a casualty. But I don't cry over the bullets I use on psychotic mass murderers like your fiancé was." 

His words ignited a fuse inside of your captor, for a shadow washed over him it seemed, and his entire personality shifted. His body went rigid and you could almost see the darkness that consumed the lighter hazel of his eyes. Derek's words were a knife to his chest, and you watched as the man grabbed hold of the handle and slowly pulled it out without even a semblance of a blink.

"You shot her like an animal." The man's voice was gravely, lower than you had yet to hear it before and it made your entire body shake with a new wave of fear.

"She was firing into a crowd of police officers. She was firing at my team, at me! So damn right I took the shot, and maybe you see it like she was just some helpless damsel, but I put a murderer down. That's what she was--"

"Don't you talk about her that way!" The man was reaching his boiling point, you could see the steam bubbling towards the top and you knew it was only seconds before an explosion ensued.

"--and that's all she'll ever be." Derek finished around your captor's livid words. You knew that his words were meant to ignite the flame, to rile him up enough that he would be knocked off his game and Derek could get the jump on him. But as you watched the man's hands disappear into his back waistband, and slowly reemerge with a gun that had been carefully tucked away, your heart fell into the pit of your stomach. Wave after wave of panic overwhelmed you, as your chest tightened with each hyperventilating breath that tried to pass. Your eyes were wide with overflowing tears, as you couldn't look away from the weapon the man held securely in his hand. His finger hovered above the trigger, and the barrel was pointed right at Derek.

"You murdered her." The man spoke in an eerily steady tone, and it was as though he was laying a trap. For whatever Derek replied with, it would determine whether or not he got a bullet.

You stopped breathing as you watched Derek's lips part with the words balancing on the tip of his tongue. "I did my job."

The breath that had been trapped in your lungs when your breathing had ceased, immediately expelled in a loud scream as the deafening firing of the gun echoed around you. The sound bounced off of the four small walls that confined you, but it was the groan that fell from Derek's swollen lips that caused the high-pitched screams to fall in heartbreaking cries from your trembling lips. His face was scrunched tightly, every muscle in his body clenched as he leaned forward and moaned in pain. His left thigh was torn through, and just like his right arm, rich red blood began to soak through the dark denim fabric of his pants and glide down his leg. You cried out to him, his name repeated over and over again as it fell from your quivering lips in hopeless sobs, and you looked at him through tears that nearly drowned your sense of sight. His forehead was sheen with sweat, the beads collecting and glistening in the low light, as the droplets began to roll down the side of his face. They blended with the blood that was caked across his flesh and you could see the faint tears of pain that soaked his bottom lashes. He was so strong, but a single body could only withstand so much pain, and Derek was drowning in it.

"You took the woman I loved, you killed her right in front of me and there wasn't anything I could do to stop it. There was nothing I could do to save her." The man gritted through his teeth as he shoved the gun back into his waistband, staring at Derek as he bled out. His dark blood oozing down the legs of the metal chair in thick streams. Dying the wood beneath his bare and splintered feet and slowly began to drain the color from his skin.

"Now it's your turn to see how it feels."

The words made Derek's head jerk upward, his face still twisted in excruciating pain, but it was the fear and dread that overwhelmed his eyes that made your heart break completely in two. "No!" He croaked out, in the only voice he had left. He was paling right in front of you, slowly watching the beautiful color of his skin fade, as the seconds passed with his blood flowing freely from the wounds in his body. His voice was strained, a faint rasp that was the weakest you had ever heard him sound before. But you knew it wasn't just the overwhelming pain that weighed him down, but the pure terror of what this man might do to you.

The man didn't respond with words. He simply looked at Derek one last time, dead in the eyes as though the final flip of his middle finger, and then turned away from him. And the black cloud that had just merely drifted, was back in full force, as you felt the shadow descend over your body. A chill rushing over your flesh, leaving painfully sensitized goosebumps in it's path, and you felt breathless as you continued to hyperventilate. The man's scent wrapped around you like the arms of death, for the earthy tone that had once carried through the air had now turned bitter. It was no longer the scent of deep pine trees and freshly chopped wood, but rather the sickening stench of death and decay. His shadow engulfed you, as he stood right in front of you. And ever so slowly, as he had just minutes ago, his right hand reached out. Feeling the rough callouses return against your flesh, as he guided his palm around the base of your head, and curling his fingers against the nape of your neck. And with a single flick of his wrist, he tilted your head upward in a rough motion, that forced your eyes to look into his own. He held you prisoner in this room, with your bleeding wrists strapped to a metal chair, and now he held your gaze captive. Forcing his heavy scrutiny upon you, with a sinister curl of his lips, as his eyes washed over your face.

"Such a beauty." He whispered with a slight shake of his head, and his warm breath wafted across your tear dripping cheekbones. The air hot against the already burning path of salt that dripped from your overflowing eyes.

His hand released it's intense iron like grasp on the back of your neck, and as his footsteps slowly began to circle around your chair to the left, you felt the disgusting trail of his fingers across your neck. He dragged his fingertips ever so lightly across your flesh as he walked to the back of your chair, feeling him run over the veins and the thick base of your throat that couldn't even swallow due to the fear. And as he disappeared from your sight, so did his fingers, but his presence was anything but gone. For you could feel his shadow as he stood behind you, the breath that fell from his curled lips and the sound of his hands rustling in the back of his pockets.

"Don't do this," Derek pleaded in a strained moan, and looking over at him, you saw him bent forward. As far as his bound hands would allow, while his head was tilted to the side. Allowing his eyes to land upon the man who stood behind you now. He was withering in pain, and yet, so unconcerned with his well-being as he fought for your own. "please."

"You can't save everyone Derek Morgan," The man spoke in a tone that was completely detached and compassionless. His voice cold and callous; the way a slickening green sky before a lightening storm feels, a frightening overshadowing warning of what's to come. "I know that now... and so will you."

You could hear the sound of the man's hands rustling with something, and the only glimpse you had into the actions going on behind your back, were through the eyes and facial expressions of Derek. For you looked to him with tear soaked eyes and a palpating heart, as you listened to something heavy hit the floor boards. And you knew that Derek was aware that you were watching him, that you were looking for any clue as to what was happening, and as hard as he tried, he just wasn't capable of concealing everything from you. For he watched the man's movements and you saw as his bloody and bruised lips parted in a silent gasp. His fists pulled against his restraints, but he was weaker now as he continued to bleed out. He was fighting as hard as he could, but it was as if his own body was telling him that he couldn't win this one.

Your eyes were so concentrated on Derek and his suffering, that it wasn't until a heaviness settling against the very base of your collarbone, caused your focus to snap back to your own situation, as though a rough rubber band against your flesh. You could feel the man's breath as it floated down the back of your neck, but it was the scratchy material that shifted across your flesh that made your skin crawl. For it was a familiar material, one that you had become well accustomed to, as it was wrapped tightly around your now blistering raw and bleeding wrists. The same rope was laid across your collarbone, the material thick and weighing heavy as it felt like itchy straws of hay pricking against your skin. You tried to tilt your eyes downward to look, but the rope made it hard to bend your chin down to take a peak. Only ending up scraping it against the twine that felt as though it was shrinking against your neck, as you slowly felt the material scrape against the sides of your skin and press against the base of your throat.

"You want revenge," Derek mustered out in a sharp and slightly ragged breath. "I'm the only way you'll get that. Take me instead, please, take me instead."

His pleas fell upon deaf ears as the man only continued to work his fingers against the rope that was tightening around your throat. Derek cried out for the man to change his mind, to put the rope around his own neck, to take his life. But your captor's mind was already made up, he had a vision of this very moment, and you knew no matter what Derek tried to reason with and that no matter how hard he cried, it wasn't going change.

The rope was hot as it sat snug against the base of your throat, and as the pressure mounted making it harder to swallow even a shallow breath, the man's shadow grew in front of you as he stepped around the chair. Circling back until he was crouched down in front of you once again, but this time, he didn't make any eye contact with you. He simply knelt before you, looking down at your hands that were tied tightly to the arms of the chair and pulled something from his back pocket. The second a glimmer of light reflected against the silver of the sharp blade, your body instantly began to instinctually buck in your seat. Twisting and turning, trying to back yourself as far away from the knife that was growing closer to your flesh. But with a swift contact, he sawed the sharpened blade through the dense cord of twine, and released your bloody wrists from their confines. The air, although humid and sticky, burned as it touched against your raw flesh. The wounds that you wore on your wrists like wide bracelets, stung and screamed from the open air that danced upon the bleeding and blistering flesh. Your joints felt stiff, as you were fearful to even try to twist your now freed wrist, due to the rawness that went layers deep.

The man didn't say a word, as he retracted the blade that now had faint remnants of your blood traced upon the edge of the blade, he simply put it away and stood from his place. He was completely silent, and the dense atmosphere that swirled around you in the void was suffocating. It wasn't that you preferred his haunting voice or his unsettling words, but it was the insufferable fearfulness and anxiety that mounted in the silence, that made you yearn for something other than this. His shadow disappeared from your body once again, as he circled back around to the back side of your chair.

And without another second to waste, the man's hands reached out on either side of you. His thick and calloused fingers pressing gently against the thinly clothed skin of your shoulders, and curling them around your arm, he lifted you. As though without words, he told you clearly with his actions that he wanted you to stand. His grip growing tighter, like a claw in an old arcade game, and shakily, you brought yourself up upon your wobbling legs. Your bare feet scraped, even with little to no movements, against the splinters in the floorboards. And your legs felt flimsy, as though a second longer and they might give out beneath you. But the man's hands held onto your arms tightly, stabilizing you on your feet, before you heard a loud screeching sound startle you from behind. Your metal chair, the one that you suddenly had the unsettling yearn to be tied to again, being dragged away from you. Leaving you standing exposed where you stood, and it felt as though you were trapped out at sea. In the middle of a roaring ocean, with nothing to keep you afloat and nothing to fall back on. The room was small and you weren't isolated, and yet as you stood there with your heart beating relentlessly in your head, you had never felt more alone.

You felt Derek's eyes on you the entire time, for his gaze came with an overwhelming warmth that always went soaring to your core. But this time, the warmth burned against your skin like the hot rays of the sun. You could feel the tears and the fear that engulfed his gaze, and felt as the emotion settled over your flesh. You wanted to look over at him, you wanted to look into his eyes as you had every single day in the past and see the reassurance and love that you needed to see, but in this moment, you were afraid. For you knew what would be waiting for you, drowning his beautiful brown eyes in fear and heart crushing emotion that you just couldn't see from him. For his pain, his agony, his tears would always have the ability to break you. And you knew the moment you looked over at him, and saw what was waiting, you wouldn't ever be able to look away.

You heard a loud thump that sounded behind you, resonating from the high ceiling above, and as though an Earthquake had taken form beneath the floorboards below, your body began to shake. It shook in a way that wasn't voluntary, in a way that wasn't of your own doing. Your bare feet scraped ever so slowly against the wooden floorboards, feeling the sharp splinters pricking against your flesh as your shaking body began to lift. You would've screamed out in pure terror at the feeling of your body slowing being hoisted up from the ground, if not for the thick rope that tightened like a coiling snake against your throat. For the material dug into your neck, and pressed so harshly that you couldn't take a single breath. You couldn't even release the one that had been trapped in your throat to begin with.

It was a pain unlike anything you had ever felt, for it struck sudden fear into your chest and your body that was swaying faintly in the open air, began to buck instinctually. You gasped for a breath, as silent tears rolled down your cheeks one by one. Trailing down your flesh that was fading into a pinkish red hue, and disappearing into the thick rope that waited below. Your hands lifted, unable to resonate any pain from the wounds across your wrists anymore, and your fingernails clawed at the rope that clasped around your neck. They dug into the material, scraping and digging and clawing roughly as though a tiger trapped in a cage. Your lungs burned as though a fire was roaring within them, and your gasps began to grow sharper and more desperate as the edges of your vision started to blur. It started slowly, the colors smudging as though they were seen through a dirty lens, until small black spots trickled in. It felt like the end of a film, where the screen faded from a beautiful scene to black, with the end written across the screen in bright white. The darkness caved in as the color of the world was forced out, and as your final moments drew near, the sound of Derek's piercing screams echoed around you. They were faint, as though you were trapped inside of a fishbowl, distorting his cries and forcing them away from your ears. But even as your consciousness began to slip, and your awareness faltered, the sound of his voice was the last thing you heard before darkness consumed you.

Derek Morgan had never felt more catatonic in his life, than he did in that very moment. For his entire body was numb. Not even the ounces of blood he was losing, the bullet holes that were torn through his flesh, the cuts and layers of skin gone from his wrists and feet resonated to him. He didn't feel the excruciating pain or the effects of his blood loss anymore, the pain that overtook his entire body was different. It was all consuming. This kind of pain was worse than any pain Derek had ever felt. His chest heaved with hyperventilating breaths and shook from the aggressive cries that exhaled past his busted lips. His entire body shook, for it rattled the legs of his chair against the floorboards and nearly tipped him over. His ears rang with a sharp whistle that took away his clear sense of sound. His vision was clouded and his clarity shattered. And yet, as his glossed over eyes looked straight ahead as though they were a magnet to the scene, it was the clearest image he'd ever see. For there was no wiping away or diluting the image of his girlfriend swinging from the wooden paneled ceiling above, from a hand crafted noose. There was no unseeing what he had just witnessed.

Her body, clothed in pale pastel hues of springtime colors and cherry blossoms, swung lifelessly from the panels of wood above Derek. The color of her skin had faded, a paleness washing over her as though the times she had been sick and he had to care for her. But this time, it was as though her flesh had resorted back to a bare canvas. Any remnants of soft sandy skin were gone, and an unnatural and sickening whiteish beige was left in it's place. Her neck swung forward, bending at an angle that only proved what Derek already knew. And her eyes gazed downward at the floorboards that waited below her dangling feet, but all light within them had been extinguished. Her body was familiar to the eye, but the soul within it was gone.

Derek's eyes couldn't leave her hanging body, they were frozen in place. He only saw faint shadows in the corner of his eye of the man who killed her, as he stood in the far corner with the rope still gripped tightly in his hands. The muscles in his arms still clenched with the strength he had used to hoist her up. Derek was overwhelmed in shock, drowning in unbearable emotions that he had never known and had yet to feel the full extent of. So much so, that he barely even registered the loud pounding against the thick metal door off to his left. It wasn't until blurs of deep navy blue and blinding flickers of fluorescent flashlights swiped across his view of her swaying body, and the warmth of a hand began to soak into the flesh of his left hand. It was the first sensation, other than complete and utter collapsing of his mind and emotions, that began to slowly melt through the dense ice that had encapsulated his body. The fingertips were gentle as they brushed against his skin with caution due to all of his injuries, but it was enough that it felt like hot water rushed onto frost bitten flesh.

"Derek?" A voice echoed in his ear, sounding far as though he was trapped walls apart from the person it came from. But as the voice called out to him again, he felt it grow near. "Derek, can you hear me?"   

"Go to her," His swollen lips moved and his breathless words hit the ear of whomever was beside him, and yet he had no idea that he was speaking. For he felt chiseled in stone, motionless and still. The world went on around him, the Earth still turning, and yet he sat there feeling as though he was not apart of it. Stuck, lost, frozen where he sat. "go to her."

The soft flesh that had belonged to the hand of Emily Prentiss, retracted from his own, and coldness immediately swelled where her hand was once placed. The flashlights were like headlights on a completely black night, blinding his eyes whenever they flickered his way. And the blur of FBI vests swarmed around the room, as two blurred figures grabbed hold of the man still holding tightly to the rope in the corner. The others rushing to her body that swung lifelessly in all of the commotion, watching as three sets of careful hands cut her free and guided her down upon the stretcher with the gentleness she deserved. Derek watched with clouded yet aware eyes, as Hotch and Prentiss guided her body on the stretcher out to the paramedics waiting just outside, and his eyes followed them. For he was still a tethered string, still attached to her, no matter where she went.

He could feel the presence of another beside him again, on his right this time, but he couldn't look their way. The strong and familiar scent of the Italian's cologne, wafted across Derek like a light cloud of smoke, and he could feel the warmth in the older man's hands as they pressed against his own. He felt friction against his flesh, but nothing he could completely recognize. For his feeling was just barely beginning to trickle back into his body. David Rossi continued to saw through the thick and bloody twine that bound Derek's hands, until his wrists were freed and as the air hit Derek's raw flesh, sensation returned to his body. And it was an excruciating tidal wave.

"I--I couldn't stop him." Derek's voice cracked, everything inside of himself was completely shattered and Rossi could hear it."I--I couldn't, I--couldn't stop him."

"I know son," David whispered to Derek, who was suddenly left a shell of the man he once was. "I know. But we need to get you to the hospital Derek, before you bleed out."

The man's words were barely heard over the sound of the rushing floodgates, that were the suffocating sobs that escaped past Derek's swollen and bloody lips. He cried hot burning tears that seared down his face like acid rain, and his body shook along with them even as the medics had to hold him down just to get him onto the stretcher. Derek cried for the pain that overwhelmed his body, the bullets that tore through his flesh and were still lodged somewhere underneath. He cried for the fear that had built up in his chest, obstructing his ability to breath. He cried for the terror and panic that he had tried so hard to conceal and swallow down for her. But most of all, he cried for her. He cried for the innocence that had been stolen from the world, the life taken because of something he did. He cried for the loss he felt swallowing up his entire heart and spitting it out in a million tiny crushed up pieces. He cried for the powerlessness and the weakness he felt, having to watch her murder happening mere feet in front of him, and not being able to do a single thing to stop it. Derek Morgan cried... because in that moment... it was all he could do.

The space inside of the ambulance was snug and smelled heavily of antiseptic, bright lights and screeching beeps of machines buzzed throughout his senses, as he was reclined back on the padded stretcher. He didn't care about the needles that poked and prodded his arm and his hand, he didn't feel the burning of cleaning against his raw wounds for protection against infection. He didn't feel the pressure placed against his bleeding bullet holes. Not when, as he stared straight ahead through the doors that were still wide open as they prepared to leave, he caught sight of another vehicle directly across from him. This vehicle was large and painted in a dark matte black, that told him exactly what it was far before he read the white letters across the siding.

Derek watched as the back doors of the wide vehicle opened, and a silver stretcher carrying a large black zip-up bag was rolled onto it. The opening to the vehicle was directly in his view, as though they had parked the two vehicles back to back on purpose. And just as his eyes couldn't leave her in that small and torture filled room, as he gazed forward with a suffocating breath trapped in his throat, he couldn't look away from her now. He was still that tethered string, even as her body was concealed from his sight.

Derek heard the engine of the ambulance start, the blare of the siren starting up, and with dread of what was to come clouding his heart, he watched as the doors of the ambulance slowly grew shut. At the very same time, the doors of the coroner's vehicle shut. As though in tandem. Like the sealing of a fate that Derek had never wanted. And as Derek watched as the vehicles slowly began to drive away from one another, he could feel the string that connected his heart to hers, becoming stretched and frayed the further they travelled. 

Derek Morgan knew, that with time, his wounds from the bullets that tore holes through his body, would heal. But he also knew, that his heart and soul would never be the same.

A/N: I. AM. IN. SHOCK... This is insanity!! Wow!!😭

First off, I just have to say I cannot believe that I just wrote a one shot of over 12,000 words!! This is without a doubt, the longest piece of writing I have ever written in my life! I knew, when this idea formed in my head and I was beginning to put it to paper, that it was going to be a lengthy one shot. But never in my wildest dreams did I think it would come to this! As I continued to write and saw the number of words climbing higher and higher, I was constantly surprised to see that they were still growing. But I knew that this one shot couldn't be rushed, it couldn't be cut down or formatted to fit a certain number of words. I had to write this one shot freely without restrictions, no matter how long it wound up to be, because every single detail, every vivid description, every heartbreaking line of dialogue, was vital and necessary.❤

When it comes to the writing of this one shot... I am at a loss of words for just how unbelievably proud and shocked I am with myself and the piece I was able to create! This one shot has been an idea I have been working on for quite some time. It came to me one day, the plot behind this dark and twisted and emotional one shot, and I knew it was a story that I had to write. This story allowed me to unlock the darker side of my writing, the more twisted and tortured parts of my creativity and explore the deeper aspects of it that I've had limited dabbling in in the past.

I worked very hard to make this one shot feel real, to make the descriptions and the details come to life and allow you to feel completely immersed in the scene. This one shot was heavy on my heart to write, I'm not going to lie. From the angst and pain and heartbreaking emotion throughout, it was filled to the brim with a heaviness that not only weighed on me as I maneuvered through writing all of the scenes and dark themes, but as I read it now as a completed piece. This one shot hurts my heart and has brought many tears to my eyes, but I am so very proud of how it turned out. This piece was one in which I wholeheartedly shocked myself with the writing capabilities I hold within myself. And that, to me, is one of the best and most rewarding feelings in the world. I hope that you all enjoyed this one, and were able to see the hard work, dedication and all of my heart and soul that I poured into this piece of writing!!❤

(I put the trigger warning, because although there have been some dark and disturbing episodes and cases on Criminal Minds that we've all seen, not every one has the same comfort level when it comes to these more torturous and graphic themes. I knew that this one was going to be dark and I wanted to make it as detailed as I could, but knew that I wanted to let my readers know before they began reading in case of any fear or weariness of uncomfortableness or triggers.)