Fic: Savage World (1/1 Criminal Minds)
Title: Savage World
Series: Of Innocence and Empathy
Author: Frogg
Beta: None
Rating: FRT, mention of child abuse and sexual abuse
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Damnit.
Word Count: 1,100
Author's note: Spoilers for Compulsion and Profiler, Profiled. I haven't quite figured out when in the storyline this occurs.
Relieved, but still resenting the interruption, Morgan answered his desk phone, keeping his eyes on the paperwork he'd been trying to finish. "Agent Morgan."
"Hello," an unfamiliar male voice answered, tightly controlled. Morgan could feel the hesitance and uncertainty lurking beneath that control. "This is Jared Macnamara with the D.A.'s office in Chicago."
Morgan froze, every muscle tensing as the simple introduction told him everything he didn't want to know.
"Sir? I realize this is...less than welcome, and that you probably don't want anything to do with it, but Carl Buford's trial is coming up in a couple of months, and we wanted to give you the opportunity to testify."
The odd phrasing resonated and Morgan began to relax slightly. "Opportunity?"
"This isn't a subpoena, Agent Morgan. Once you and your team left, after Buford was arrested, several other young men came forward and volunteered. Your testimony would only be one of many nails in his coffin. But we didn't want to move forward without giving you the choice," Macnamara explained patiently.
Several other...Just how many did I fail, damnit!? Morgan screamed inside his head. The fingers of his free hand dug into the back of his neck; the phone was clenched in a white-knuckled fist. After a long moment spent fighting down bitterness and nausea, Morgan cleared his throat painfully. "Just tell me when and where," he replied, voice raspy and harsh.
Macnamara sighed heavily over the phone. "Agent Morgan, I'm not expecting you to answer right this minute. Actually, I'm going to refuse to accept an answer before you've had a chance to consider--"
"Just tell me when and where," Morgan repeated, sharp and commanding.
"Sir, I understand you feel--"
"You understand nothing," Morgan snarled into the mouthpiece.
"You didn't fail those boys, Agent Morgan," Macnamara shot back, pure steel in his tone. "Failing would have meant continuing the cycle. Becoming an abuser. Turning your back on them. You didn't. You've spent every minute of your life since then working your ass off to protect the innocent, or trying to get there. You didn't fail them then, and you don't have to do this now."
Pain knifed through Morgan, leaving him momentarily unable to speak, unable to acknowledge the simple truths that would relieve him of the guilt he'd carried for too long. "They suffered for my inaction."
"And you suffered because those who came before you did nothing. You? You took it upon yourself to investigate, and hound the police, and see to it that the innocent had a champion they could trust." When Morgan said nothing in answer, Macnamara continued. "Take a few days to think about it. Really think about it, don't get on the witness stand out of guilt. I don't want to hear from you for at least forty-eight hours." He gave Morgan his phone number, then hung up without further comment.
Morgan let out a shuddering breath, setting the phone back on its cradle with fingers gone numb. His awareness of his surroundings returned slowly, and he straightened at the unusual silence, turning in his chair. He found Hotch leaning against Reid's desk, watching him with concern and understanding in his eyes.
The rest of the pit was empty.
"Chicago D.A.'s office?" Hotch asked gently.
Not trusting himself to speak, Morgan nodded.
"You get subpoenaed?"
"No," Morgan rasped, then swallowed and tried again. "No, they wanted to give me the...opportunity," he laughed bitterly, "to testify."
"And you're going to."
"Did you really expect me not to?" There was no mistaking the self-loathing in Morgan's tone.
Hotch shrugged. "My only question is...do you want us - any of us, all of us - to go with you? In the courtroom, or in Chicago once it's over?"
"Hotch, the team can do without me for a day or two while I'm testifying, but if there's a case--"
"If there's a case, there's three other teams capable of taking it. If you want us there...if you need us there? We'll be there."
Torn, Morgan opened his mouth to answer, then shut it, then closed his eyes and ground the heels of his hands into them, feeling tears dampen his skin.
"Of all the things human beings can offer one another, I think comfort is the hardest to ask for, and the hardest to accept. You don't have to give me an answer now, just as you don't have to give the D.A. an answer today." Hotch spoke softly, evenly, as if coaxing a frightened animal out of its bolt-hole.
Reid had chosen well in sending Hotch to him, Morgan thought. He couldn't argue with Hotch, couldn't disbelieve someone who knew what it was to feel helpless and guilty. "I failed them." He couldn't not say it; it was as much a compulsion for him as setting fires had been for Clara Hayes.
Hotch looked momentarily surprised, then confused, then suspiciously amused. "I don't know what whoever it was who called you said--"
"Jared Macnamara."
"--but I owe him."
Morgan gave him a look of patented disbelief. "You owe him? For what?"
"Were you listening to yourself just then? 'I failed them.' You've said that every time this issue comes up."
"Yeah, Hotch, I know. I did. What does that have to do anything about it?"
There was a light in Hotch's eyes, a flicker of humor. Of hope. "The way you said it just then, it was something you were trying to convince yourself."
Morgan tried to think back, watching Hotch watch him, and shook his head.
"I know what I heard. Never is a very long time, especially when it comes to blaming yourself for something that wasn't your fault. This? Letting go? It's a good thing, Morgan. You're too hard on yourself." Hotch straightened, glancing towards the door. "Paperwork can wait. Reid's waiting for you by the elevator. Go home."
"Hotch--" Morgan started to protest.
"Derek."
Wisely silent, Morgan stared, knowing that Hotch had made a suggestion, and knowing equally well that he'd make it an order if Morgan pushed. "Waiting for me?"
"Reid's done with his reports. He's welcome to take the rest of the day off."
'And you need it.' The words hung between them, unspoken, but understood just the same.
"Yeah, sure. Call us if there's a case," Morgan muttered, turning back to gather his things and stack the paperwork neatly. Hotch had as much as said there wouldn't be; after all, they weren't the only team in the BAU.
Just the best.
He'd just gotten a first-hand demonstration of why.
~~~the end~~~
Previous: Cold Logic
Next: An Empathic Art
Series: Of Innocence and Empathy
Author: Frogg
Beta: None
Rating: FRT, mention of child abuse and sexual abuse
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Damnit.
Word Count: 1,100
Author's note: Spoilers for Compulsion and Profiler, Profiled. I haven't quite figured out when in the storyline this occurs.
Relieved, but still resenting the interruption, Morgan answered his desk phone, keeping his eyes on the paperwork he'd been trying to finish. "Agent Morgan."
"Hello," an unfamiliar male voice answered, tightly controlled. Morgan could feel the hesitance and uncertainty lurking beneath that control. "This is Jared Macnamara with the D.A.'s office in Chicago."
Morgan froze, every muscle tensing as the simple introduction told him everything he didn't want to know.
"Sir? I realize this is...less than welcome, and that you probably don't want anything to do with it, but Carl Buford's trial is coming up in a couple of months, and we wanted to give you the opportunity to testify."
The odd phrasing resonated and Morgan began to relax slightly. "Opportunity?"
"This isn't a subpoena, Agent Morgan. Once you and your team left, after Buford was arrested, several other young men came forward and volunteered. Your testimony would only be one of many nails in his coffin. But we didn't want to move forward without giving you the choice," Macnamara explained patiently.
Several other...Just how many did I fail, damnit!? Morgan screamed inside his head. The fingers of his free hand dug into the back of his neck; the phone was clenched in a white-knuckled fist. After a long moment spent fighting down bitterness and nausea, Morgan cleared his throat painfully. "Just tell me when and where," he replied, voice raspy and harsh.
Macnamara sighed heavily over the phone. "Agent Morgan, I'm not expecting you to answer right this minute. Actually, I'm going to refuse to accept an answer before you've had a chance to consider--"
"Just tell me when and where," Morgan repeated, sharp and commanding.
"Sir, I understand you feel--"
"You understand nothing," Morgan snarled into the mouthpiece.
"You didn't fail those boys, Agent Morgan," Macnamara shot back, pure steel in his tone. "Failing would have meant continuing the cycle. Becoming an abuser. Turning your back on them. You didn't. You've spent every minute of your life since then working your ass off to protect the innocent, or trying to get there. You didn't fail them then, and you don't have to do this now."
Pain knifed through Morgan, leaving him momentarily unable to speak, unable to acknowledge the simple truths that would relieve him of the guilt he'd carried for too long. "They suffered for my inaction."
"And you suffered because those who came before you did nothing. You? You took it upon yourself to investigate, and hound the police, and see to it that the innocent had a champion they could trust." When Morgan said nothing in answer, Macnamara continued. "Take a few days to think about it. Really think about it, don't get on the witness stand out of guilt. I don't want to hear from you for at least forty-eight hours." He gave Morgan his phone number, then hung up without further comment.
Morgan let out a shuddering breath, setting the phone back on its cradle with fingers gone numb. His awareness of his surroundings returned slowly, and he straightened at the unusual silence, turning in his chair. He found Hotch leaning against Reid's desk, watching him with concern and understanding in his eyes.
The rest of the pit was empty.
"Chicago D.A.'s office?" Hotch asked gently.
Not trusting himself to speak, Morgan nodded.
"You get subpoenaed?"
"No," Morgan rasped, then swallowed and tried again. "No, they wanted to give me the...opportunity," he laughed bitterly, "to testify."
"And you're going to."
"Did you really expect me not to?" There was no mistaking the self-loathing in Morgan's tone.
Hotch shrugged. "My only question is...do you want us - any of us, all of us - to go with you? In the courtroom, or in Chicago once it's over?"
"Hotch, the team can do without me for a day or two while I'm testifying, but if there's a case--"
"If there's a case, there's three other teams capable of taking it. If you want us there...if you need us there? We'll be there."
Torn, Morgan opened his mouth to answer, then shut it, then closed his eyes and ground the heels of his hands into them, feeling tears dampen his skin.
"Of all the things human beings can offer one another, I think comfort is the hardest to ask for, and the hardest to accept. You don't have to give me an answer now, just as you don't have to give the D.A. an answer today." Hotch spoke softly, evenly, as if coaxing a frightened animal out of its bolt-hole.
Reid had chosen well in sending Hotch to him, Morgan thought. He couldn't argue with Hotch, couldn't disbelieve someone who knew what it was to feel helpless and guilty. "I failed them." He couldn't not say it; it was as much a compulsion for him as setting fires had been for Clara Hayes.
Hotch looked momentarily surprised, then confused, then suspiciously amused. "I don't know what whoever it was who called you said--"
"Jared Macnamara."
"--but I owe him."
Morgan gave him a look of patented disbelief. "You owe him? For what?"
"Were you listening to yourself just then? 'I failed them.' You've said that every time this issue comes up."
"Yeah, Hotch, I know. I did. What does that have to do anything about it?"
There was a light in Hotch's eyes, a flicker of humor. Of hope. "The way you said it just then, it was something you were trying to convince yourself."
Morgan tried to think back, watching Hotch watch him, and shook his head.
"I know what I heard. Never is a very long time, especially when it comes to blaming yourself for something that wasn't your fault. This? Letting go? It's a good thing, Morgan. You're too hard on yourself." Hotch straightened, glancing towards the door. "Paperwork can wait. Reid's waiting for you by the elevator. Go home."
"Hotch--" Morgan started to protest.
"Derek."
Wisely silent, Morgan stared, knowing that Hotch had made a suggestion, and knowing equally well that he'd make it an order if Morgan pushed. "Waiting for me?"
"Reid's done with his reports. He's welcome to take the rest of the day off."
'And you need it.' The words hung between them, unspoken, but understood just the same.
"Yeah, sure. Call us if there's a case," Morgan muttered, turning back to gather his things and stack the paperwork neatly. Hotch had as much as said there wouldn't be; after all, they weren't the only team in the BAU.
Just the best.
He'd just gotten a first-hand demonstration of why.
~~~the end~~~
Previous: Cold Logic
Next: An Empathic Art