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
( ... )
It wasn't as if they were on any kind of time table. If Martha wanted to skip over houses, Derek would oblige her. She did have a point. The house his key worked on was not so desolate. He swaggered alongside her, allowing her energy to take the lead.
He wondered how long she had been there to keep such a positive outlook. A day before him? A week? He could've asked her but it wasn't a question he really wanted an answer to. It would probably only depress him more.
So he asked about Kirk and it made her frown. "He's the Captain. If anyone is fine, it's him." Derek was firm. He even sported a genuine grin and brought their joined hands to his lips, giving the top of hers a quick kiss.
"Wouldn't be surprised if we find him out here looking for you. The boarding house just vanished on all of us. At least, it did for me. I was drawn to my place and putting on this costume. You're out here lost. Might be different for all of us. I'll tell you this much...I won't leave you until you're alright. Well, as alright as we can be in
Martha still worried; it was one of the things she did, especially when it was about people she cared deeply for. But she was going to keep her chin up and keep up appearances. Everyone would be found and they would all survive the rest of whatever West had planned for them. Taking a deep breath, Martha grinned at the kiss that Derek dotted on the top of her hand.
"I hope so. Jim's, well, I'm sure he's looking for a me or a way out or something." A little sigh and a flash of a grim look when he said that he was drawn to the house and finding a costume. Martha didn't feel a pull to go anywhere, and all she wanted was a hot shower and a cup of tea.
For a moment, the boarding house missing loomed rather large in her world. If it went missing how could they find things like food? Martha Jones was a complete and utter rubbish cook; this was going to be a problem. "I don't suppose you know how to cook, Mr. Morgan?" Her voice was soft and teasing, but there was a note of uncertainty in it.
"I can order a mean take-out," he teased in reply to her question. Derek was happy to keep things light. Martha just didn't seem right with a frown on her face. He never shook the look of terror on her face when her sole intent had been to help him. If at all possible, he'd try his damnedest to keep her grinning.
"Not much of that here but I spent more time at the diner than I ever ate at the boarding house. Never felt right eating with strangers. I know that doesn't make a lot of sense but...Hey, I had someone cook me one helluva steak. Ziva. You know her?"
His mind caught up with his lips a little late. Ziva had disappeared. Damn it! He didn't let the blunder show on his face and quickly continued. "There's gotta be people who can cook around. If I'm the sheriff, somebody's gotta be a cook. ...I'd be happy to make you a burger," he smiled.
"Me too. Take-away from this Indian place down the road from my flat. Pintu's it was called. They had the best chicken tikka malasa." Martha frowned, and she touched her stomach for a moment. "Bloody hell, I'd kill for some of that." It'd been ages and ages since she'd had proper take-away, even well before the fifty days she'd spent here. Suddenly she felt properly homesick. The sensation was like a weight in her stomach. Mum, Dad, Tish, Leo, Keisha, take-away, wine, greasy pizza, the sound of traffic and the real city...
She paused in her step for a moment, then took a deep breath and just started walking again. Martha Jones was good at shoving things down; and she knew that even thinking such things could be rather dangerous, what with Devlin and the rest around.
"I can't say that I have. I did meet some people when we were kids, though. It's possible she was one, but I don't think so." There was a grin when he mentioned someone having to cook. "Well, as long as it's not the two of us, I'll expect we'll be alright, yeah?"
Her description of food was not helping Derek any. Indian, Thai, Japanese, Chinese, Italian...Not only had hunger returned but memories of eating take out. The best he had in Peaksville had been an impromptu steak.
He reached and gave her elbow a gentle squeeze in affection before jogging the distance to another front door. The key worked. Forty three Main Street. Why the hell did her key work to a door between an auto and electrician shop?
Peaksville would never make any goddamn sense. "We won't starve, Doctor Jones. That much I can promise you." Could he really? Derek took for granted how he had wandered over Peaksville at whim.
Didn't he realize how strange it was to suddenly be thrust from one home to another? To a uniform? Maybe the all nighter was doing his head in. Nothing was guaranteed in the hellish town.
"Any body home?" he called up the stairs as the door swung in. Derek looked back at Martha. "Wait here. Let me go up and check it out."
When he gave her that gentle squeeze, Martha smiled quickly and nodded. She could do this. It was as simple and easy as just placing one foot in front of the other as she'd done millions of times over. There would be a way out, she'd get back to the Barge, and then she'd go home and eat until she was ill
( ... )
Just what he needed. Another determined woman. Derek wouldn't deny her. Maybe if they were in the real world, he would stop the doctor. In Peaksville, what power did he truly have
( ... )
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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He wondered how long she had been there to keep such a positive outlook. A day before him? A week? He could've asked her but it wasn't a question he really wanted an answer to. It would probably only depress him more.
So he asked about Kirk and it made her frown. "He's the Captain. If anyone is fine, it's him." Derek was firm. He even sported a genuine grin and brought their joined hands to his lips, giving the top of hers a quick kiss.
"Wouldn't be surprised if we find him out here looking for you. The boarding house just vanished on all of us. At least, it did for me. I was drawn to my place and putting on this costume. You're out here lost. Might be different for all of us. I'll tell you this much...I won't leave you until you're alright. Well, as alright as we can be in
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"I hope so. Jim's, well, I'm sure he's looking for a me or a way out or something." A little sigh and a flash of a grim look when he said that he was drawn to the house and finding a costume. Martha didn't feel a pull to go anywhere, and all she wanted was a hot shower and a cup of tea.
For a moment, the boarding house missing loomed rather large in her world. If it went missing how could they find things like food? Martha Jones was a complete and utter rubbish cook; this was going to be a problem. "I don't suppose you know how to cook, Mr. Morgan?" Her voice was soft and teasing, but there was a note of uncertainty in it.
Reply
"Not much of that here but I spent more time at the diner than I ever ate at the boarding house. Never felt right eating with strangers. I know that doesn't make a lot of sense but...Hey, I had someone cook me one helluva steak. Ziva. You know her?"
His mind caught up with his lips a little late. Ziva had disappeared. Damn it! He didn't let the blunder show on his face and quickly continued. "There's gotta be people who can cook around. If I'm the sheriff, somebody's gotta be a cook. ...I'd be happy to make you a burger," he smiled.
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She paused in her step for a moment, then took a deep breath and just started walking again. Martha Jones was good at shoving things down; and she knew that even thinking such things could be rather dangerous, what with Devlin and the rest around.
"I can't say that I have. I did meet some people when we were kids, though. It's possible she was one, but I don't think so." There was a grin when he mentioned someone having to cook. "Well, as long as it's not the two of us, I'll expect we'll be alright, yeah?"
Reply
He reached and gave her elbow a gentle squeeze in affection before jogging the distance to another front door. The key worked. Forty three Main Street. Why the hell did her key work to a door between an auto and electrician shop?
Peaksville would never make any goddamn sense. "We won't starve, Doctor Jones. That much I can promise you." Could he really? Derek took for granted how he had wandered over Peaksville at whim.
Didn't he realize how strange it was to suddenly be thrust from one home to another? To a uniform? Maybe the all nighter was doing his head in. Nothing was guaranteed in the hellish town.
"Any body home?" he called up the stairs as the door swung in. Derek looked back at Martha. "Wait here. Let me go up and check it out."
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