without you¹ | derek morgan. ✓

18 | carl buford

charlotte's pov.
author's note: i am well aware that charlotte's pov is technically emily's in the episode (2x12), but i changed it to fit better. enjoy :) xoxo <3

TW: MENTIONS OF OF SEXUAL ASSAULT.

_______

I walk into the office of the youth center, knocking on the wall in front of the open door. I notice that no ones inside, so I walk into it slowly, followed by Dennison.

"Hello? Mr. Buford?" I call out, looking around the office.

I notice trophies on the shelves hanging on the walls, "Wow! This guy's been honored by everybody but the nobel society." I state.

Dennison nods, "That's Carl Buford." He states.

"Who are you?" A small, light-skinned kid asks, approaching Dennison and I slowly.

I turn to the kid, "I'm with the FBI." I state.

"Do you know Derek Morgan?" He asks, a wide grin growing across his face.

I nod, "Yeah. He's a friend of mine." I state.

The kid nods, "I've been trying to call him."

"He's a little busy right now. Is there something I can do to help you?" I ask.

The kid shakes his head, "I just...a friend of mine. Soemone killed him yesterday." He states in a soft tone, shutting his shoulders.

"Do you know something about who might have done it?" Dennison asks.

The kid shakes his head again, "No. Derek's always tellinf me if I need somebody to talk to, about anything, I can call him. Guess I just wanted to...I don't know." He states.

I nod, "I'll tell you what, why don't you give me your name and I'll let him know that you've been trying to reach him." I state, grabbing out a small pad of paper and a pen.

"James Barfield." The kid states.

I nod, writing his name down, "Does he know where to find you?" I ask.

James nods, "He can find me here." He states.

"Anytime?" I ask.

James nods again, "All the time." He states as I nod in understanding, smiling softly.

•••

derek's pov.

"Carl Buford." Hotch states, walking into the interrogation room, slamming the door behind him as he rushes beside me.

I look up to him from my seat, "What?" I ask.

Hotch looks back to me, "Carl Buford, he runs the youth center." He states, sternly.

I gulp loudly, leaning back, "What's that got to do with anything?" I ask.

Hotch's brow furrows, "He's responsible for getting your records expunged." He states.

I slam my fist against the table, "I told you to stay the hell out of my business!" I exclaim.

"You said you visit the youth center every time you come here." Hotch states, sternly.

"So what?" I ask, loudly.

He shakes his head, "Buford says he hasn't spoken to you in years. Why don't you visit the man who made your career possible?"

I smack the file box out of anger, making it fly off the table, "Damn you, Hotch!" I exclaim, my body filling with anger.

"It is none of your damn business." I state, sternly, my body trembling in fear.