Elysium,16/21
Title: Elysium
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Characters/Pairing: Morgan/Prentiss
Genre: Romance/Angst
Summary: They thought that it was only going to be one night. They were wrong. An unexpected pregnancy leads Emily and Derek to reevaluate their lives.
Author’s Note: Thanks to everyone who voted for this story at the Criminal Minds Fanfic Awards. It tied for 3rd Place for Best Work in Progress, and it could not have been done without the motivation of all readers, reviewers, and pokers. Thanks, guys.
Chapter Fifteen
Morgan woke as a loud ringing noise cut through the silence. Beside him, Emily gave a groan. It was a little past four a.m according to the luminescent clock at his bedside.
‘Tell JJ that you quit,’ she murmured, her face pressed against his bare chest. ‘Tell her you can’t come in, because you don’t want to work for the BAU anymore. Then we can have pancakes.’
Any outsider that listened to her words - and he sincerely hoped that there were none - wouldn’t have been able to tell that only a few days ago, she had turned down his marriage proposal. Since then, things had been a little awkward, but not awkward.
‘You know,’ he said, reaching over to the nightstand to grab the phone. ‘Four months ago, you were adamant that I should never leave.’
She rolled her eyes at that. The Strauss debacle was water under the bridge, even if it was still fresh in their minds.
‘If I cripple you, they’ll have to give you sick leave.’
‘But then I won’t be able to make pancakes,’ he countered.
‘You don’t need legs to cook,’ she said softly, as Morgan answered the phone. He gave her a grin.
‘JJ?’
‘Got a case - four dead, escalating quickly.’ The grin faded. No case merited a good mood.
‘I’ll be there soon,’ he promised her, shooting Emily an apologetic look. On some levels, this was how Hotch must have felt once upon a time, or how JJ still did feel, every time she kissed Will and Henry goodbye. It was different though, because Emily knew the job, and in a way, that made it even harder.
He showered and dressed quickly, and by the time he stepped back into the bedroom to kiss Emily goodbye, she was already asleep again. He let his lips touch her forehead softly, and he whispered, ‘I’ll call you tonight,’ even though he knew she couldn’t hear him.
It really was ridiculously early, and even though they hadn’t gone to bed particularly late last night, he was still a little rough around the edges, so he made good use of the coffee machine in the kitchen. Their coffee machine. Their kitchen.
It was a thought that was definitely going to take some getting used to. Maybe he wasn’t as ready to get married as he thought.
He hadn’t lived with another woman since he’d moved out of home; the constant demands of whatever job he’d been working at the time had limited him to one-night stands, and relationships that didn’t last longer than a month. Once upon a time, there had almost been a woman he could have seen himself spending the rest of his life with, but then, the job had gotten in the way once more.
That was part of the problem.
No.
That was the whole problem.
The only people that could really understand the job were the ones who had the job. That was why the relationship was working. He wondered if they lived some other life, if he’d never joined the FBI, or if Emily had followed her parents’ footsteps into politics would they still have had a chance.
He wasn’t exactly sure of the answer. Plus, it was a little too philosophical for four a.m. He’d need at least two more cups of coffee before he was capable of that level of cognitive functioning.
At that time of morning, the roads weren’t quite deserted, but he still made it to Quantico in good time, refilling his coffee mug again before meeting the rest of the team in the briefing room. The only one without coffee was Hotch; Emily had speculated once upon a time that the Unit Chief was, in fact, a vampire, who didn’t even need to sleep. Some days, Morgan was convinced she was right, even if he didn’t burst into flames whenever he stepped outside during the daytime.
‘Emily was okay with you being dragged out of bed at four in the morning?’ JJ asked, with a raised eyebrow. The team enquired constantly about her wellbeing; the absence was still fresh, and sometimes, for Morgan especially, it felt like there was a gaping hole. A spot that he didn’t even know needed to be filled until she came along and filled it. He wasn’t just talking about the job anymore.
‘She threatened to cripple me so I wouldn’t have to come in,’ he grinned. JJ and Rossi both let out a chuckle, and Reid gave an appreciative smile, but Hotch’s face remained stoic. His experiences with spousal reaction to the job were a lot less facetious.
‘What do we have, JJ?’ Hotch asked, eyes focused on the file in front of him.
Morgan tried to compartmentalize his personal issues, but it was harder than he would have thought. His relationship with Emily was so pervasive, that he wasn’t sure he could. Eventually, though, his mind shifted to the profile, and to the four dead victims so far, and Emily Prentiss was the last thing on his mind.
…
The day was long, exhausting, and above all, fruitless. Usually, on the first day, they found some kind of link between their victims, or, at the very least, some kind of reason for why their unsub was targeting them. Today, though, all they had was four victims of different genders, different social class and different age groups.
It was nine o’clock when Hotch sent them back to their motel rooms - thanks to their early start, they’d been working non-stop for almost seventeen hours, and had found few worthwhile leads. Morgan didn’t even bother pulling back the sheets before flopping down onto the hard bed. The place was so old that it still had Magic Fingers, and he was half tempted to dig through his wallet for a quarter.
Instead, he found his phone, and speed-dialed Emily. She picked up almost immediately, which made him wonder if she’d been waiting for his call.
‘Hey.’
‘Hey. What are you doing?’
‘Something I haven’t done in a long time.’
‘Yeah?’ In spite of himself, he grinned - there were a lot of different ways of interpreting that sentence.
‘Mind out of the gutter, Morgan. I’m reading. More specifically, I am lying in bed reading. I seriously can’t remember the last time I did that. So how’s the case going?’
‘Mmmm. You keep talking - I just want to hear the sound of your voice.’
‘That bad?’
‘Worse. No links between the victims, nothing from the scene to tie back to the unsub.’
‘You think it’s random?’
‘It’s starting to look like it.’
‘What does the geographic profile say?’
‘Uh…’ He searched through his memory banks for the relevant data. ‘First body found in the park, second outside a school, third on a popular jogging path, and the last one in a dumpster a couple of blocks from the police station.’
‘Sounds like he wants to be seen.’
‘Yeah, that’s what we figured. Limited defensive wounds, but the knifework was pretty sloppy.’
‘So inexperienced and disorganized.’
‘Yeah, which makes it all the more annoying that we haven’t found anything.’
‘Come on, Derek. It’s the first day. Just because you haven’t found anything yet doesn’t mean jack. You need to stop doubting yourself, Derek.’
‘And why do you think I’m doubting myself?’ he shot back, with far more anger in his voice than he had intended. He shook his head, even though he knew she couldn’t see it. ‘I’m sorry. I know you need time, and space…’
‘Don’t worry about that right now. So the lack of defensive wounds could mean that he knows them, or that he’s strong enough to take them out without too much effort…’
They went over the evidence and the profile for another hour, by which point, Morgan was grateful for Verizon's unlimited calling plans.
‘You need to relax,’ Emily said. ‘You get too hung up over the details, sometimes Derek.’
And you don’t? he wanted to ask, but didn’t, because he knew she was right.
‘What did you have in mind?’
‘What are you wearing?’
Morgan raised an eyebrow. ‘Jeans, t-shirt, shoes.’
‘Take them off.’
‘You’re dirty, you know that?’
‘Derek, how do you think I deal with this overactive libido while you’re away?’
‘Well now that’s just hot,’ he grinned, the mental image provided some needed stimulation to his groin area. The jeans were starting to get a little too tight, so he kicked off his shoes before shrugging them off and slipping his shirt over his head.
The night was not a complete failure.
…
Thirty-six hours later found Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid at the apartment of a man who had known two of their victims. Eric Rutherford was twenty-seven years old, his only arrest being for possession, almost six years prior.
Morgan wasn’t exactly expecting him to run. Especially not in that way. If he was going to run, it would have been before he opened the door to let them in, not after. Instead, he swung the door open, took one look at Morgan and Reid, and then ran for the fire escape. If given the chance to think about it, Morgan might have realized that it was a trap, but his brain went straight into tactical mode, and he took chase.
The guy was fast, and he knew the area, but this was not Morgan’s first day on the job. He knew how to use the environment to his advantage, and, while he didn’t know the streets of Baltimore particularly well, he knew human behaviour, and sometimes that was enough.
All that taken into account, having a gun pointed at his chest was the last thing he expected when rounding the corner into the alleyway. His own weapon was gripped tightly in his right hand, but before he could so much as lift it to get a shot off, the unsub squeezed the trigger.
Morgan had been shot before, but nothing could have prepared him for the experience again. The bullet tore through his shoulder, as though it were made of fire, instead of just an inch or so of metal. He tried to aim his weapon, but the gun fell from the grip of his numbed fingers.
As darkness pressed at the edge of his vision, he was vaguely aware of voices, and of a second set of gunshots. Reid?
‘Morgan, are you okay?’
Morgan blinked. He wasn’t exactly sure what the answer to that question was, but of the blood that had soaked through his shirt was anything to go by, the answer was no.
‘Yeah, man, I’m good,’ he said, before letting his eyes fall closed.
Emily was going to be pissed.
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Characters/Pairing: Morgan/Prentiss
Genre: Romance/Angst
Summary: They thought that it was only going to be one night. They were wrong. An unexpected pregnancy leads Emily and Derek to reevaluate their lives.
Author’s Note: Thanks to everyone who voted for this story at the Criminal Minds Fanfic Awards. It tied for 3rd Place for Best Work in Progress, and it could not have been done without the motivation of all readers, reviewers, and pokers. Thanks, guys.
Chapter Fifteen
Morgan woke as a loud ringing noise cut through the silence. Beside him, Emily gave a groan. It was a little past four a.m according to the luminescent clock at his bedside.
‘Tell JJ that you quit,’ she murmured, her face pressed against his bare chest. ‘Tell her you can’t come in, because you don’t want to work for the BAU anymore. Then we can have pancakes.’
Any outsider that listened to her words - and he sincerely hoped that there were none - wouldn’t have been able to tell that only a few days ago, she had turned down his marriage proposal. Since then, things had been a little awkward, but not awkward.
‘You know,’ he said, reaching over to the nightstand to grab the phone. ‘Four months ago, you were adamant that I should never leave.’
She rolled her eyes at that. The Strauss debacle was water under the bridge, even if it was still fresh in their minds.
‘If I cripple you, they’ll have to give you sick leave.’
‘But then I won’t be able to make pancakes,’ he countered.
‘You don’t need legs to cook,’ she said softly, as Morgan answered the phone. He gave her a grin.
‘JJ?’
‘Got a case - four dead, escalating quickly.’ The grin faded. No case merited a good mood.
‘I’ll be there soon,’ he promised her, shooting Emily an apologetic look. On some levels, this was how Hotch must have felt once upon a time, or how JJ still did feel, every time she kissed Will and Henry goodbye. It was different though, because Emily knew the job, and in a way, that made it even harder.
He showered and dressed quickly, and by the time he stepped back into the bedroom to kiss Emily goodbye, she was already asleep again. He let his lips touch her forehead softly, and he whispered, ‘I’ll call you tonight,’ even though he knew she couldn’t hear him.
It really was ridiculously early, and even though they hadn’t gone to bed particularly late last night, he was still a little rough around the edges, so he made good use of the coffee machine in the kitchen. Their coffee machine. Their kitchen.
It was a thought that was definitely going to take some getting used to. Maybe he wasn’t as ready to get married as he thought.
He hadn’t lived with another woman since he’d moved out of home; the constant demands of whatever job he’d been working at the time had limited him to one-night stands, and relationships that didn’t last longer than a month. Once upon a time, there had almost been a woman he could have seen himself spending the rest of his life with, but then, the job had gotten in the way once more.
That was part of the problem.
No.
That was the whole problem.
The only people that could really understand the job were the ones who had the job. That was why the relationship was working. He wondered if they lived some other life, if he’d never joined the FBI, or if Emily had followed her parents’ footsteps into politics would they still have had a chance.
He wasn’t exactly sure of the answer. Plus, it was a little too philosophical for four a.m. He’d need at least two more cups of coffee before he was capable of that level of cognitive functioning.
At that time of morning, the roads weren’t quite deserted, but he still made it to Quantico in good time, refilling his coffee mug again before meeting the rest of the team in the briefing room. The only one without coffee was Hotch; Emily had speculated once upon a time that the Unit Chief was, in fact, a vampire, who didn’t even need to sleep. Some days, Morgan was convinced she was right, even if he didn’t burst into flames whenever he stepped outside during the daytime.
‘Emily was okay with you being dragged out of bed at four in the morning?’ JJ asked, with a raised eyebrow. The team enquired constantly about her wellbeing; the absence was still fresh, and sometimes, for Morgan especially, it felt like there was a gaping hole. A spot that he didn’t even know needed to be filled until she came along and filled it. He wasn’t just talking about the job anymore.
‘She threatened to cripple me so I wouldn’t have to come in,’ he grinned. JJ and Rossi both let out a chuckle, and Reid gave an appreciative smile, but Hotch’s face remained stoic. His experiences with spousal reaction to the job were a lot less facetious.
‘What do we have, JJ?’ Hotch asked, eyes focused on the file in front of him.
Morgan tried to compartmentalize his personal issues, but it was harder than he would have thought. His relationship with Emily was so pervasive, that he wasn’t sure he could. Eventually, though, his mind shifted to the profile, and to the four dead victims so far, and Emily Prentiss was the last thing on his mind.
…
The day was long, exhausting, and above all, fruitless. Usually, on the first day, they found some kind of link between their victims, or, at the very least, some kind of reason for why their unsub was targeting them. Today, though, all they had was four victims of different genders, different social class and different age groups.
It was nine o’clock when Hotch sent them back to their motel rooms - thanks to their early start, they’d been working non-stop for almost seventeen hours, and had found few worthwhile leads. Morgan didn’t even bother pulling back the sheets before flopping down onto the hard bed. The place was so old that it still had Magic Fingers, and he was half tempted to dig through his wallet for a quarter.
Instead, he found his phone, and speed-dialed Emily. She picked up almost immediately, which made him wonder if she’d been waiting for his call.
‘Hey.’
‘Hey. What are you doing?’
‘Something I haven’t done in a long time.’
‘Yeah?’ In spite of himself, he grinned - there were a lot of different ways of interpreting that sentence.
‘Mind out of the gutter, Morgan. I’m reading. More specifically, I am lying in bed reading. I seriously can’t remember the last time I did that. So how’s the case going?’
‘Mmmm. You keep talking - I just want to hear the sound of your voice.’
‘That bad?’
‘Worse. No links between the victims, nothing from the scene to tie back to the unsub.’
‘You think it’s random?’
‘It’s starting to look like it.’
‘What does the geographic profile say?’
‘Uh…’ He searched through his memory banks for the relevant data. ‘First body found in the park, second outside a school, third on a popular jogging path, and the last one in a dumpster a couple of blocks from the police station.’
‘Sounds like he wants to be seen.’
‘Yeah, that’s what we figured. Limited defensive wounds, but the knifework was pretty sloppy.’
‘So inexperienced and disorganized.’
‘Yeah, which makes it all the more annoying that we haven’t found anything.’
‘Come on, Derek. It’s the first day. Just because you haven’t found anything yet doesn’t mean jack. You need to stop doubting yourself, Derek.’
‘And why do you think I’m doubting myself?’ he shot back, with far more anger in his voice than he had intended. He shook his head, even though he knew she couldn’t see it. ‘I’m sorry. I know you need time, and space…’
‘Don’t worry about that right now. So the lack of defensive wounds could mean that he knows them, or that he’s strong enough to take them out without too much effort…’
They went over the evidence and the profile for another hour, by which point, Morgan was grateful for Verizon's unlimited calling plans.
‘You need to relax,’ Emily said. ‘You get too hung up over the details, sometimes Derek.’
And you don’t? he wanted to ask, but didn’t, because he knew she was right.
‘What did you have in mind?’
‘What are you wearing?’
Morgan raised an eyebrow. ‘Jeans, t-shirt, shoes.’
‘Take them off.’
‘You’re dirty, you know that?’
‘Derek, how do you think I deal with this overactive libido while you’re away?’
‘Well now that’s just hot,’ he grinned, the mental image provided some needed stimulation to his groin area. The jeans were starting to get a little too tight, so he kicked off his shoes before shrugging them off and slipping his shirt over his head.
The night was not a complete failure.
…
Thirty-six hours later found Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid at the apartment of a man who had known two of their victims. Eric Rutherford was twenty-seven years old, his only arrest being for possession, almost six years prior.
Morgan wasn’t exactly expecting him to run. Especially not in that way. If he was going to run, it would have been before he opened the door to let them in, not after. Instead, he swung the door open, took one look at Morgan and Reid, and then ran for the fire escape. If given the chance to think about it, Morgan might have realized that it was a trap, but his brain went straight into tactical mode, and he took chase.
The guy was fast, and he knew the area, but this was not Morgan’s first day on the job. He knew how to use the environment to his advantage, and, while he didn’t know the streets of Baltimore particularly well, he knew human behaviour, and sometimes that was enough.
All that taken into account, having a gun pointed at his chest was the last thing he expected when rounding the corner into the alleyway. His own weapon was gripped tightly in his right hand, but before he could so much as lift it to get a shot off, the unsub squeezed the trigger.
Morgan had been shot before, but nothing could have prepared him for the experience again. The bullet tore through his shoulder, as though it were made of fire, instead of just an inch or so of metal. He tried to aim his weapon, but the gun fell from the grip of his numbed fingers.
As darkness pressed at the edge of his vision, he was vaguely aware of voices, and of a second set of gunshots. Reid?
‘Morgan, are you okay?’
Morgan blinked. He wasn’t exactly sure what the answer to that question was, but of the blood that had soaked through his shirt was anything to go by, the answer was no.
‘Yeah, man, I’m good,’ he said, before letting his eyes fall closed.
Emily was going to be pissed.