Fic: A Lion in Paris
The lion stared into the fire, mind wandering from thought to thought as the flame flickered. People, things, his past all passed through Derek’s mind as his eyes focused on and through the candle. Derek closed his fingers around the flame, suffocating it, and walked towards his things lying haphazardly on a bench. He’d never fought at this gym, and the accommodations were a little less than what he was used to. He’d been in worse however, remembering back to early days in America where boxing was a near impossible feat for him and the only gyms he could spar at were less than well furnished and stocked.
Hearing the click of the door opening behind him, Derek’s shoulders tensed, reacting instinctively. Turning to look, he saw the definite profile of one Aaron Walter Hotchner. Turning back Derek forced his shoulder back down and began wrapping up his hands.
“You look tense,” Hotch commented walking in front of Derek and wrapping his hands for him.
“Well, shouldn’t I be? This guy has killed people. I know I wanted this, and I still do, but Spencer really made me think about this. All that trying to get into Foyet’s mind, it was…” Derek began letting the tension fall from him and relaxed into the familiar motions of having his hands wrapped.
“Eye opening,” Hotch suggested.
“Yeah.” Derek breathed flexing his newly finished hand as Hotch began on the other.
“Spencer has that effect on people,” Hotch said looking into Derek’s eyes trying to find some emotion or information with his penetrating stare.
“Hotch; don’t look at me like that… I haven’t done anything; I’m not going to do anything.” Derek said firmly staring back at Hotch just as fiercely.
“Maybe you should. You never act, you never say how you feel; this isn’t America Derek, some things are allowed.” Hotch reminded him softly finishing with his hands.
“Even in France, what you’re talking about isn’t allowed.” Derek retorted quickly standing and reaching for his gloves before Hotch seized him by the shoulders and turned him around.
“It would depend on who you ask.”
“Hotch…”
Hotch let go his firm hold on Derek and took a step back breathing in deeply and releasing the tension he too had gained. “I just want you to walk out there and think about what you could have, not what you can’t, but what you can. You can beat Foyet, you can do what ever you want to with Spencer, and you can actually start living your life. So, please just go out there be your usual charming self, wink at Pen, smile at Spencer, and beat the unbeatable, okay?”
“I’ll try, mom, I’ll try.” Derek smiled wrapping his arms around the manager, squeezing tight.
“That’s all I ask,” Hotch returned, slipping out from the hug and moving towards the door, “Oh, and just so you know Pen has already started calling Spencer ‘muffin’.”
Derek laughed heartily as Hotch left the room and the door closed. The room returned to quiet; Derek finished with his gloves and looked down into the bag that he had waiting on the bench. His clothes, pack of cigarettes, and novel stared back up at him- nothing else.
Determined Derek beat his hands together and walked from the room. He followed the deep labyrinth from his small back room to the door of the main arena with little problem or thought at all. Hotch stepped forward from speaking with what Derek could only assume was Foyet’s manager; he had that look about him. He looked slick, sneaky, and like he could use a good bath.
“You ready?” Hotch asked looking up and down Morgan’s tensing body.
“I’ll never be more ready, good enough?” Morgan replied flexing his entire body, section by section in anticipation.
“It’s about the best I can hope for.” Hotch said pushing open the door to the ring.
Derek stepped forward and was instantly calmed. The lion deep within his chest stepped forward and took over. He was brave, serene, and calculating; this lion could rule the world if he had the mind. Looking around Derek saw his small section of friends; Will, Jennifer, Pen, Hotch, and now Spencer. The women smiled broadly at him, while Will and Hotch gave him strong nods. Spencer, however, just gave him deep, intense eye contact and a hint of a smirk.
The lion dragged him into the rink and a great rumbling began in his chest; like he was warning the man standing opposite him in the ring. Foyet just smiled a cocky self assured grin; looking up and down Derek’s body like he was deciding what cut would be best, like he was just a hunk of meat. Derek had gotten that look before but never with the intent that Foyet had right now.
“Gentleman,” The referee began standing in the middle of the ring. “You are both advised of the rules, I expect you both to abide faithfully by them. Do you understand?”
Both competitors nodded harshly and knocked their gloves upon each others beginning the fight. Distantly he could hear the bell ding, but the lion in Derek was focused and thinking. Foyet began to circle Derek not making an actual move but trying to appear as though he had the upper hand, playing to the audience. Derek wouldn’t follow that lead, that would get him killed. The lion took his time and waited outmaneuvering the thinner more agile man.
Derek quickly figured out this man didn’t win because he was strong, fast, or tactically brilliant; he won because he played mind games with those he fought. He got them to show their weaknesses out of the ring and expose them within. He tried at first to get Derek to make a display of vanity by making the crowd believe he had the upper hand. Then he tried to get Derek angry by ‘accidently’ tripping him, an unsuccessful and extremely childish move Derek thought, but one well played. Apparently Foyet thought Derek’s fault was pride, well he would show him just how humble he could be.
Derek began taking hits; carefully calculated to be the most ineffective ones. He started losing just that little bit, but he did it in anger. He began storming around, letting out fierce yells, and crying in outrage every time he let Foyet get the upper hand. Foyet got the grin right back on his face and began wailing. He let go of all his carefully placed blows to make up for his less than sufficient strength and let his rage tumble out.
So, Derek took this as his cue. He stood up straighter, tightened his muscles just that little bit more; and started the fight for real. He crowded Foyet pushing him back and back and back until finally he was left with no where to go. Derek had him cornered and there wasn’t much Foyet could do about it. Derek began hitting deep aiming for the sides and Foyet’s jaw. He was almost finished, just a few more hits and he would win. Then out of nowhere Foyet reached up, hooked his arm around and landed a blow right to Derek’s left kidney.
Everything stopped; referees rushed into the ring, the crowd fell silent half in shock and half in confusion, the bell rung loudly over and over again in its own little corner, and Derek Morgan just stood there. Hotch was in the ring within seconds checking him and asking him questions Derek couldn’t really comprehend at the moment. All he could think about was the referees were going to disqualify Foyet, he wouldn’t get to beat him like he so clearly was about to do.
“It was an accident,” Derek croaked looking down at where Foyet was seated on the ground smiling while being reprimanded by the refs.
“What?” Hotch asked softly, not believing for a second what Derek was saying.
“He was just reaching for anything he could hit; he didn’t mean to get my kidney.” Derek testified slowly coming to the realization that having your kidney almost punched in really did hurt quite a lot. “Just let us finish, we’ve only got two minutes left in the fight anyways, let me finish.”
“Okay,” The referee said after a long pause, “You take your five and then well start again.”
Derek returned to his corner and tenderly sat down. He let his eyes wander the arena; a family was sitting directly in his line of sight the young mother wrapping her arms gently around her young son his eyes glowing with delight at the spectacle, an old couple leaning on each other as if weathering a terrible storm and taking solace in each others arms, a group of friends-Derek’s group of friends- sitting together and staring worriedly at Derek, necks craned to see his movements and Hotch’s emotions. Looking further into the action Derek could see Spencer quietly calming Pen, most likely whispering statistics and facts in favor not only of his survival but of his winning, a thing that comforted Derek.
“You shouldn’t have done that Derek; this guy will kill you if you keep pulling stunts like that.” Hotch said massaging the area around Derek’s injury shooing off the coach and second. “I don’t even want to hear you argue with me about winning and never getting a second chance I’ve heard it before. Know that if you don’t protect this kidney out there I will call this fight off and you won’t get another chance you got that, Derek?”
“Yeah Hotch I got it, I know I can beat him.” Derek said taking deep breaths when Hotch reached a particularly sensitive area.
“You better,” Hotch said finishing the massage and walking back to Derek’s row of supporters, calmly reporting the situation like the classic go between.
Derek could the muscles in Will’s shoulders tense, the worried glance his fiancée-Jennifer kept giving both Will and himself, even the slight shaking of Pen’s head firmly in opposition of what Derek was about to do, the look in Spencer’s eye as he stared into the ring however; the unflinching confidence and understanding of the actions that Derek had made. The lion laid low in the grass preparing for the strike as the referee struck the bell and Derek stood up.
Chapter Three
Hearing the click of the door opening behind him, Derek’s shoulders tensed, reacting instinctively. Turning to look, he saw the definite profile of one Aaron Walter Hotchner. Turning back Derek forced his shoulder back down and began wrapping up his hands.
“You look tense,” Hotch commented walking in front of Derek and wrapping his hands for him.
“Well, shouldn’t I be? This guy has killed people. I know I wanted this, and I still do, but Spencer really made me think about this. All that trying to get into Foyet’s mind, it was…” Derek began letting the tension fall from him and relaxed into the familiar motions of having his hands wrapped.
“Eye opening,” Hotch suggested.
“Yeah.” Derek breathed flexing his newly finished hand as Hotch began on the other.
“Spencer has that effect on people,” Hotch said looking into Derek’s eyes trying to find some emotion or information with his penetrating stare.
“Hotch; don’t look at me like that… I haven’t done anything; I’m not going to do anything.” Derek said firmly staring back at Hotch just as fiercely.
“Maybe you should. You never act, you never say how you feel; this isn’t America Derek, some things are allowed.” Hotch reminded him softly finishing with his hands.
“Even in France, what you’re talking about isn’t allowed.” Derek retorted quickly standing and reaching for his gloves before Hotch seized him by the shoulders and turned him around.
“It would depend on who you ask.”
“Hotch…”
Hotch let go his firm hold on Derek and took a step back breathing in deeply and releasing the tension he too had gained. “I just want you to walk out there and think about what you could have, not what you can’t, but what you can. You can beat Foyet, you can do what ever you want to with Spencer, and you can actually start living your life. So, please just go out there be your usual charming self, wink at Pen, smile at Spencer, and beat the unbeatable, okay?”
“I’ll try, mom, I’ll try.” Derek smiled wrapping his arms around the manager, squeezing tight.
“That’s all I ask,” Hotch returned, slipping out from the hug and moving towards the door, “Oh, and just so you know Pen has already started calling Spencer ‘muffin’.”
Derek laughed heartily as Hotch left the room and the door closed. The room returned to quiet; Derek finished with his gloves and looked down into the bag that he had waiting on the bench. His clothes, pack of cigarettes, and novel stared back up at him- nothing else.
Determined Derek beat his hands together and walked from the room. He followed the deep labyrinth from his small back room to the door of the main arena with little problem or thought at all. Hotch stepped forward from speaking with what Derek could only assume was Foyet’s manager; he had that look about him. He looked slick, sneaky, and like he could use a good bath.
“You ready?” Hotch asked looking up and down Morgan’s tensing body.
“I’ll never be more ready, good enough?” Morgan replied flexing his entire body, section by section in anticipation.
“It’s about the best I can hope for.” Hotch said pushing open the door to the ring.
Derek stepped forward and was instantly calmed. The lion deep within his chest stepped forward and took over. He was brave, serene, and calculating; this lion could rule the world if he had the mind. Looking around Derek saw his small section of friends; Will, Jennifer, Pen, Hotch, and now Spencer. The women smiled broadly at him, while Will and Hotch gave him strong nods. Spencer, however, just gave him deep, intense eye contact and a hint of a smirk.
The lion dragged him into the rink and a great rumbling began in his chest; like he was warning the man standing opposite him in the ring. Foyet just smiled a cocky self assured grin; looking up and down Derek’s body like he was deciding what cut would be best, like he was just a hunk of meat. Derek had gotten that look before but never with the intent that Foyet had right now.
“Gentleman,” The referee began standing in the middle of the ring. “You are both advised of the rules, I expect you both to abide faithfully by them. Do you understand?”
Both competitors nodded harshly and knocked their gloves upon each others beginning the fight. Distantly he could hear the bell ding, but the lion in Derek was focused and thinking. Foyet began to circle Derek not making an actual move but trying to appear as though he had the upper hand, playing to the audience. Derek wouldn’t follow that lead, that would get him killed. The lion took his time and waited outmaneuvering the thinner more agile man.
Derek quickly figured out this man didn’t win because he was strong, fast, or tactically brilliant; he won because he played mind games with those he fought. He got them to show their weaknesses out of the ring and expose them within. He tried at first to get Derek to make a display of vanity by making the crowd believe he had the upper hand. Then he tried to get Derek angry by ‘accidently’ tripping him, an unsuccessful and extremely childish move Derek thought, but one well played. Apparently Foyet thought Derek’s fault was pride, well he would show him just how humble he could be.
Derek began taking hits; carefully calculated to be the most ineffective ones. He started losing just that little bit, but he did it in anger. He began storming around, letting out fierce yells, and crying in outrage every time he let Foyet get the upper hand. Foyet got the grin right back on his face and began wailing. He let go of all his carefully placed blows to make up for his less than sufficient strength and let his rage tumble out.
So, Derek took this as his cue. He stood up straighter, tightened his muscles just that little bit more; and started the fight for real. He crowded Foyet pushing him back and back and back until finally he was left with no where to go. Derek had him cornered and there wasn’t much Foyet could do about it. Derek began hitting deep aiming for the sides and Foyet’s jaw. He was almost finished, just a few more hits and he would win. Then out of nowhere Foyet reached up, hooked his arm around and landed a blow right to Derek’s left kidney.
Everything stopped; referees rushed into the ring, the crowd fell silent half in shock and half in confusion, the bell rung loudly over and over again in its own little corner, and Derek Morgan just stood there. Hotch was in the ring within seconds checking him and asking him questions Derek couldn’t really comprehend at the moment. All he could think about was the referees were going to disqualify Foyet, he wouldn’t get to beat him like he so clearly was about to do.
“It was an accident,” Derek croaked looking down at where Foyet was seated on the ground smiling while being reprimanded by the refs.
“What?” Hotch asked softly, not believing for a second what Derek was saying.
“He was just reaching for anything he could hit; he didn’t mean to get my kidney.” Derek testified slowly coming to the realization that having your kidney almost punched in really did hurt quite a lot. “Just let us finish, we’ve only got two minutes left in the fight anyways, let me finish.”
“Okay,” The referee said after a long pause, “You take your five and then well start again.”
Derek returned to his corner and tenderly sat down. He let his eyes wander the arena; a family was sitting directly in his line of sight the young mother wrapping her arms gently around her young son his eyes glowing with delight at the spectacle, an old couple leaning on each other as if weathering a terrible storm and taking solace in each others arms, a group of friends-Derek’s group of friends- sitting together and staring worriedly at Derek, necks craned to see his movements and Hotch’s emotions. Looking further into the action Derek could see Spencer quietly calming Pen, most likely whispering statistics and facts in favor not only of his survival but of his winning, a thing that comforted Derek.
“You shouldn’t have done that Derek; this guy will kill you if you keep pulling stunts like that.” Hotch said massaging the area around Derek’s injury shooing off the coach and second. “I don’t even want to hear you argue with me about winning and never getting a second chance I’ve heard it before. Know that if you don’t protect this kidney out there I will call this fight off and you won’t get another chance you got that, Derek?”
“Yeah Hotch I got it, I know I can beat him.” Derek said taking deep breaths when Hotch reached a particularly sensitive area.
“You better,” Hotch said finishing the massage and walking back to Derek’s row of supporters, calmly reporting the situation like the classic go between.
Derek could the muscles in Will’s shoulders tense, the worried glance his fiancée-Jennifer kept giving both Will and himself, even the slight shaking of Pen’s head firmly in opposition of what Derek was about to do, the look in Spencer’s eye as he stared into the ring however; the unflinching confidence and understanding of the actions that Derek had made. The lion laid low in the grass preparing for the strike as the referee struck the bell and Derek stood up.
Chapter Three