Derek Morgan was not a morning person in the slightest. However, he couldn't sleep. He eventually made his way to what his newly acquired residence after viewing what was his and Deb's existence on DVD. Not every episode. It was more difficult than he had imagined to watch pieces of his life and the team. Painful to watch what was supposedly the experience his boss had gone through at the hands of The Boston Reaper. As some kind of morbid distraction, he changed DVDs and watched what he unfortunately realized too late that he should not have attempted.
...Debra Morgan was related to a serial killer.
The brother she spoke fondly of was a goddamn serial killer. Even if his targets were the scum of the earth, it wasn't something for the man to decide. Too much room for error. The code made no sense. A cop fine tuned the kills of a mass murderer. Who comes up with this shit? Derek grew tense and furious the more he watched. It didn't help matters that Deb was not only oblivious of what her brother was up to, but she seemed to sleep with
( ... )
When Martha heard the voice, she quickly turned towards it. She recognized the face as soon as she'd seen it of course, how could she not? They'd never really talked, but Martha Jones wasn't the sort of person who forgot a face, especially when the face was someone whom she'd seen mostly every day up until he'd been possessed and had tried to rape her
( ... )
"Yeah. That's where this snazzy uniform came from. After everything that's happened, if you can't beat him, join him ...until you can get close enough to wring his neck," Derek replied with bitterness thick in his voice. He stood with his hands in the pockets of his pants. The standard grade law enforcement shades may have disguised the tiredness and hurt in his eyes but it remained on his face and how his shoulders slumped.
Martha may have never known the playful, smiling Derek. She was attacked by a possessed man. One he couldn't stand to think about or remember even for the briefest second. It made him physically sick to think he could violate anyone, knowing experienced that himself. Even without the experience, it was in his nature to protect others.
All of it was what had made facing Martha so difficult. Yet there she was, graciously smiling back at him. He wondered how much she might know about him aside from their 'moment'. Maybe it was just the uniform that made her feel safe. Or just safer. He unconsciously slipped his
( ... )
"So you're a police man then? Well, there are definitely worst things to be." Martha grinned at that, because it made sense. Despite the fact that she didn't know that he was an agent in his real life, the doctor had pegged him for being a copper. She was firmly expecting that when she found her home, she'd find a doctor's coat--Martha was going to have a rather rude awakening
( ... )
He simply nodded at her summation. Derek had been a police officer in Chicago before rising to the Bureau. Acting sheriff in Peaksville would no doubt be a wild ride thanks to West. The revolver given to him was not his preferred firearm, and it would more than likely be utterly useless, but Martha was right--there were worst things he could've been. And who knew how long this charade would go on
( ... )
"Of course. I mean it, you know." And she did; Martha Jones didn't blame him and never would. "Even if it does happen again, Derek, it wouldn't be your fault. And we'd know right away if something like that was reoccurring, and we'd know how to treat it." Like most things in her life, what had happened to Derek had come down to something that could be treated and fixed. In this case, the treatment would be to find someone who willingly would have sex with him, and that would probably come down to Debra Morgan
( ... )
He had no idea what she meant about treating him, should he fall into that depraved rage again. But he believed her. That was all that mattered. Whatever the treatment, he would readily take it. Derek would choose death than become a monster
( ... )
Martha laughed when he said that she was good people. She knew that she was; she had always known. Arthas (was it Arthas? it was so long ago) had told her once that she was like a priest from his world, and he'd spoken it in a way that was both a compliment and a curse. Derek's was definitely a compliment. She squeezed his fingers again after he'd squeezed hers, and then she grinned quickly to him. "Thank you, Derek. I mean that." Her voice was soft and she laughed. "I do try, you know."
She decided to make the effort of lightening the mood a bit. "So, does this mean that we should call you 'Sheriff' now, Derek? " She reached out and touched him again, because Martha Jones tended to touch people. For her, touching people was more than just a gesture. A touch could heal; it could make things better; it could ground you when things were going wrong and it could even make your blood pressure go down.
"I must say," she added after a second, her voice light and teasing. "You do wear it well, you know."
He smiled amiably at her word of thanks. There was no reason to thank him. She was the good person. Derek couldn't help wonder why he hadn't talked to her sooner. Not just since his return from the impromptu honeymoon but even before his raging libido. Martha was easy to be around. It felt good to be around her. She was nurturing, and while he would never readily admit to it, Derek needed some tenderness. He could most definitely do with some flirting.
"Are you flirting with me, Mizz Jones?" he laughed. "You know I'm a married man. And a man in uniform. Both which I'm fully aware of being a huge turn on for women. I'm happy to oblige if you wanna keep taking a look." Finally. Martha managed to get a full smile from Derek. He playfully flexed a bicep then held his elbow out for her to hang onto. There was no real prowess in his reply but for the moment, he shook the dark clouds that stormed overhead.
"I suppose I am flirting with you, Sheriff. How can I not? Look at you in that uniform." Her voice was light and teasing and pleased sounding. And she gestured towards his uniform with a grin. Flirting was normal; flirting reminded her of things that were far removed from Peaksville. Things and people and a world that was beyond the bubbled center of this damned main street. Flirting reminded her of Jack and of the Barge and things she missed.
There was a bit of a pointed stare and Martha took the elbow that he offered her, and she wrapped her hands around it. There was a bit of ohing and ahing when she watched it, and then there was a quick fanning gesture towards her face as if she was feeling faint because of his strength and general manliness.
"Oh, ho!" he exclaimed jovially. Derek mentally chastised himself again for not having sought out Martha sooner. "You know, I don't EVEN care if you're mocking me right now. Let me have my moment of pure unadulterated admiration."
His smile was a mile wide and there was a pep in his step. "I do wear it well, don't I?" he asked rhetorically with the same teasing quality in his voice. "You might make a dishonest man out of me yet, Sweetheart."
They were fast approaching a residence and Derek reached over with the opposite hand, holding it out for her key. The house looked far from lived in. He wondered if they were obligated to specific residences. What would be the harm in Martha staying with him if she disliked her place? Aside from possibly making Kirk wary, of course.
That made Martha laugh quickly and she watched him out of the corner of her eye as she walked with him. It was easy to see why people had been so worried about that night, because she was finding that she quite liked Derek Morgan; he definitely reminded her of Jack.
"Definitely do wear it well. And don't ya tempt me, Derek. I'm not the cheating kind." The same harmless flirty tone was in her voice and she gave his arm a squeeze before the key was handed over to him.
"This really doesn't look all that lived in, yeah? I hope we're not going to be obliged to make these places habitable." She doubted it; West didn't seem like he was big on preliminaries.
His hand clutched at his heart, feigning hurt when Martha labeled herself faithful. Derek quickly smiled before his hand even lowered from his heart and chuckled at their antics. He walked up to the house after she handed over the key. "If it makes you feel any better, in addition to being a law man, I renovate properties in my free time. If this is your place, I can help fix it up."
The key didn't work. "But this isn't your place." He tried the knob although the lock didn't turn just to see if the property opened. Denied. "Huh. I thought no one locked their doors in the fifties." Derek shrugged and finally turned back to Martha, a hint of a smile coming back on his lips. "On to the next."
He held his elbow out again, a more obvious smile forming with a wink thrown in. "I'd be a stupid man not to keep offering. Who wouldn't want a beautiful woman such as yourself hanging off their arm." Derek was definitely shaking some of the demons off his shoulders.
When he clutched at his heart, Martha giggled quickly. She pressed her hand to her forehead after a minute. "Oh how ever will I cope when you look so wounded at my words?" She giggled again at the end of the statement, and then nodded when he said that he would help her fix it up
( ... )
His smile waned slightly in the natural transition from playfulness to a real topic. The more he gave it thought, the more Derek lost his smile. He wasn't a fan of horror movies. Peaksville was downright creepy. There was such an eerie, ominous feeling to it
( ... )
"The people are right here; we're here, yeah? We're people, and we're real despite what West and his little DVDs might happen to say." Martha's voice was soft, but it was certain and sure; she definitely wasn't going to let herself be spooked by his assignment of the world around them. Keeping her hand n his, Martha moved past the next house.
"I don't think it'll be one of these; it wouldn't make sense. We're too far away for it." Martha took a deep breath, and then she gave him another squeeze and started to steer them downtown more.
The mention of Jim made her frown, and she shook her head sadly. "I haven't seen him. I'm looking for him, hopeful he's about somewhere. He had to be; Martha Jones wouldn't lose him too.
Derek Morgan was not a morning person in the slightest. However, he couldn't sleep. He eventually made his way to what his newly acquired residence after viewing what was his and Deb's existence on DVD. Not every episode. It was more difficult than he had imagined to watch pieces of his life and the team. Painful to watch what was supposedly the experience his boss had gone through at the hands of The Boston Reaper. As some kind of morbid distraction, he changed DVDs and watched what he unfortunately realized too late that he should not have attempted.
...Debra Morgan was related to a serial killer.
The brother she spoke fondly of was a goddamn serial killer. Even if his targets were the scum of the earth, it wasn't something for the man to decide. Too much room for error. The code made no sense. A cop fine tuned the kills of a mass murderer. Who comes up with this shit? Derek grew tense and furious the more he watched. It didn't help matters that Deb was not only oblivious of what her brother was up to, but she seemed to sleep with ( ... )
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Martha may have never known the playful, smiling Derek. She was attacked by a possessed man. One he couldn't stand to think about or remember even for the briefest second. It made him physically sick to think he could violate anyone, knowing experienced that himself. Even without the experience, it was in his nature to protect others.
All of it was what had made facing Martha so difficult. Yet there she was, graciously smiling back at him. He wondered how much she might know about him aside from their 'moment'. Maybe it was just the uniform that made her feel safe. Or just safer. He unconsciously slipped his ( ... )
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She decided to make the effort of lightening the mood a bit. "So, does this mean that we should call you 'Sheriff' now, Derek? " She reached out and touched him again, because Martha Jones tended to touch people. For her, touching people was more than just a gesture. A touch could heal; it could make things better; it could ground you when things were going wrong and it could even make your blood pressure go down.
"I must say," she added after a second, her voice light and teasing. "You do wear it well, you know."
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"Are you flirting with me, Mizz Jones?" he laughed. "You know I'm a married man. And a man in uniform. Both which I'm fully aware of being a huge turn on for women. I'm happy to oblige if you wanna keep taking a look." Finally. Martha managed to get a full smile from Derek. He playfully flexed a bicep then held his elbow out for her to hang onto. There was no real prowess in his reply but for the moment, he shook the dark clouds that stormed overhead.
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There was a bit of a pointed stare and Martha took the elbow that he offered her, and she wrapped her hands around it. There was a bit of ohing and ahing when she watched it, and then there was a quick fanning gesture towards her face as if she was feeling faint because of his strength and general manliness.
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His smile was a mile wide and there was a pep in his step. "I do wear it well, don't I?" he asked rhetorically with the same teasing quality in his voice. "You might make a dishonest man out of me yet, Sweetheart."
They were fast approaching a residence and Derek reached over with the opposite hand, holding it out for her key. The house looked far from lived in. He wondered if they were obligated to specific residences. What would be the harm in Martha staying with him if she disliked her place? Aside from possibly making Kirk wary, of course.
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"Definitely do wear it well. And don't ya tempt me, Derek. I'm not the cheating kind." The same harmless flirty tone was in her voice and she gave his arm a squeeze before the key was handed over to him.
"This really doesn't look all that lived in, yeah? I hope we're not going to be obliged to make these places habitable." She doubted it; West didn't seem like he was big on preliminaries.
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The key didn't work. "But this isn't your place." He tried the knob although the lock didn't turn just to see if the property opened. Denied. "Huh. I thought no one locked their doors in the fifties." Derek shrugged and finally turned back to Martha, a hint of a smile coming back on his lips. "On to the next."
He held his elbow out again, a more obvious smile forming with a wink thrown in. "I'd be a stupid man not to keep offering. Who wouldn't want a beautiful woman such as yourself hanging off their arm." Derek was definitely shaking some of the demons off his shoulders.
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"I don't think it'll be one of these; it wouldn't make sense. We're too far away for it." Martha took a deep breath, and then she gave him another squeeze and started to steer them downtown more.
The mention of Jim made her frown, and she shook her head sadly. "I haven't seen him. I'm looking for him, hopeful he's about somewhere. He had to be; Martha Jones wouldn't lose him too.
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