Profiling Love (A Derek Morgan FanFic)

Coming Clean

"Hey you okay?" Derek asks as he sits up in his chair against the hospital walls. I sigh and sluggishly walk towards him, before collapsing in the chair next to him.

"I've been better." I admit, leaning my head onto his shoulder. His right hand pats my head before he kisses it gently.

"If Leo's okay, why aren't you?" He asks and I lift my head to look at him.

"Because now no one is safe." I state.

"Why not?" Morgan asks confused.

"Because Leo's brother Joshua has my file. He knows everything about me, so that means you, the team, and anyone I've gotten close with." I explain.

"We'll find him. If Leo can do it so can we. We tell the team, get some help..." he starts but when he seems my face he stops. "What? What's wrong?" He asks worried.

"I have to tell you something." I start uneasily.

"Okay..." he trails off. I let out a shaky breath and sit up facing forward. I place my elbows on my knees and plant my face in my hands. Morgan's stare bores into the side of my face, seeing how nervous I am. I swallow hard and shuffle in my seat to look at him.

"Do you know why I wanted to become an FBI agent?" I ask and he furrows his brows.

"You wanted to be one but when your mother didn't allow it you wanted to be one even more." He answers and my head tilts to the side slightly.

"Okay, Yeah. But why did I want to be one in the first place?" I ask.

"To help people?" He says unsurely.

"Yes and no." I say before taking a deep breath and continuing. "When I was a kid I lived with my biological parents until I was 11." I start and he narrows his eyes.

"I already know this..." he mutters, trying to understand what I'm starting to say. I nod and bite my lip.

"But before I was 11 my life wasn't exactly picture perfect. I lived in a crappy apartment in Brooklyn, real dangerous neighborhood. Gunshots, addicts, not a place a kid should grow up in. When kids are small and they see these things, see these dangerous people what are their first action?" I ask and Morgan sits up slightly.

"Go to their parents for protection." He says shrugging. I nod slowly agreeing.

"Yes, that's what kids do right? They go to their mom or dad so they can protect them from the big bad world. But for me that wasn't the case. I ran away from my parents."

"Why?" He asks and I slowly look around the mostly empty hospital.

"It started when I was maybe 3ish. My dad was a huge alcoholic, so was my mom. Hitting was the norm in my house. Yelling and blaming me for small inconveniences in their life. Over the years hitting turned into cutting..." I trail off before lifting my hair so he can see my neck that he's always so curious about. Morgan bites the inside of his cheek before tracing his large finger over the rugged healed scar. I suck in a breath feeling tears trying to well up into my eyes.

"I never left the house. I didn't go to school because of my paranoid parents. If teachers saw I came to school lined with bruises, suspicion would arise. So I stayed home. My mother barely fed me, kept me ill nourished so I couldn't fight back." I explain wiping a lone tear off my face.

"But as I got older, the neighborhood got more and more expensive. My dad barely had a job, all the money he did get he spent it all on booze. Since he was always drunk he occasionally got too close to me. Touching me inappropriately, sometimes going further than just touching..." I trail off remembering how he would lock us in my closet together. Morgan angrily shakes his leg on the floor, catching my attention.