Imagine Morgan being like an older brother to you and comforting you when you have nightmares about having to shoot an unsub.
You sat across from Morgan, cradling a mug of untouched hot chocolate between your hands.
“You’ve been getting much sleep lately, kiddo?” Morgan asked, tilting his head as he regarded you, the edges of his mouth turned down in concern.
You shrugged, not quite trusting yourself to speak yet.
“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” Morgan reached out to give your knee a quick squeeze. “We’re all on your side.”
You nodded, swallowing thickly. The guilt was gnawing at your stomach, a constant grind against your insides. “He had two kids, Derek.” Tears burned behind your eyes. “I killed their daddy.”
“Hey, hey, you did what you had to do,” Morgan comforted, setting his own mug aside and turning his entire focus on you. “That man killed three women. They were somebody’s babies, maybe someone’s mama or sister. He took that away from them.”
You ran an exhausted hand over your face. You were almost certain you could still smell the gunpowder residue, could still feel the kickback, the resistance of the trigger. You could see the bullet enter the unsub’s forehead, sending him reeling backwards. You could feel the spray of blood against your skin, hot and sticky and thick. You shuddered, fighting the bile that rose in your throat at the memory before you felt Morgan’s hands on your biceps, grounding you.
“Hey, eyes on me, okay? He didn’t give you a choice. There was nothing else you could’ve done,” he promised, eyes holding yours. “We need you, kid. You can’t give up because of this guy. Don’t let him get to you.”
You could feel tears spilling down your cheeks, “I killed a man, Derek. I killed him.”
He sighed and set your mug aside, pulling you into his arms, “I’m here for you, kiddo. I’m not going anywhere. You’re gonna get through this. I promise.”
Gif Credit: Morgan