Full Throttle

Chapter One

Derek Morgan’s eyes flutter open. He’s confused, and an excruciating pounding at the front of his head prevents him from thinking clearly. The room is eerily silent, which he finds odd considering he falls asleep with the television on every single night. He tries to roll over and look at the alarm clock, but he can’t move. Something is restraining him. Did he bring a girl home last night? He can’t remember.

Morgan racks his brain. It hurts to think. The last thing he remembers is telling his boss, Agent Hotchner, goodnight before leaving the BAU’s office and going home to sleep. He remembers being exhausted after traveling all the way to Washington state for a case. There’s no way he had been up to going out. Morgan closes his eyes again, performing a cognitive interview on himself to figure out what happened.

“Hey, kid. You headed home?” Morgan steps into the elevator with Dr. Reid, who jabs a long, skinny finger into the ground floor button.

“Yeah. I - I am.” Reid rubs his eyes sleepily, not looking up from the tiled floor as he suppresses a yawn. Morgan looks at him worriedly.

“You know what, why don’t I give you a ride? It’s been a tough week. You look beat.”

“That really isn’t necessary,” the younger agent begins. Morgan knows that Reid hates asking for favors as well as receiving them. He’s the youngest agent of the BAU, and he doesn’t want to come off as a child.

“Come on, Reid. It’s really not a big deal. Your place isn’t out of the way for me. I insist.”

“Morgan, it’s fine,” Reid presses, his voice growing slightly irritated. “It isn’t like I’m driving, anyway. You know I always take the subway.”

“Yeah, I know. I just…” Morgan trails off, recalling a case in San Francisco from two weeks ago, where a serial killer had been targeting vulnerable young men on the subway system at night, raping them, strangling them, and then disposing of them in local bodies of water. He hates to make Reid feel weak, but he doesn’t want anything happening to his best friend either.

“Please?” Morgan tries again, making himself sound much softer than usual. Morgan isn’t really the type for exceptional manners or begging, but something in his gut gives him a bad feeling. “I owe you one for the burger you bought me today.”

At his words, Reid finally looks up to meet Morgan’s eyes. A small smile forms on his lips, and Morgan knows he has won. “That burger was seven dollars,” Reid comments. “What kind of burger costs seven dollars?”

Morgan laughs, putting an arm around Reid’s shoulder and guiding him out of the elevator. Considering Reid is wary of human contact of any kind, Morgan is somewhat surprised when the other profiler doesn’t wriggle his way out of the position. He chalks it up to the doctor just being tired as they exit the building and head towards Morgan’s car.

Morgan’s eyes open again. This time, everything is blurry. It’s dark outside, but he can make out some shadows and outlines. It definitely doesn’t look like his bedroom, unless someone started growing trees in his house while he was in Washington. As he brings his hands up to rub his eyes, a sharp pain runs through his left arm. Morgan winces, trying to turn his head and examine the wound, though he doesn’t seem to be able to move his neck at all. He tries to call out, but his throat is too dry.

Taking a few deep breaths, Morgan uses his other arm to clear his vision. He rubs his eyes with his fist, pulling away when something hot and sticky drips onto his arm. “What the…?” He says aloud. Instead of his own, deep voice, all Morgan hears is an intense ringing in his ears. It cuts through the silence like a knife, and he instinctively brings his hand up to his ear. It doesn’t hurt and it doesn’t seem to be bleeding, so Morgan takes this as a good sign. Whatever happened, the hearing loss is probably temporary and should clear up within a few minutes.