Derek couldn't believe what he was seeing. Everything was so livid, so lifelike, yet something seemed so very off. He was home in Chicago with his mother, sisters, and father, which wasn't how he remembered it. His father died when he was a young child, yet here he was, smiling and stuffing a spoonful of rice into his mouth. They were sat at the kitchen table, passing food around and laughing, ignoring the gangster-plagued streets outside, ignoring how improbable this entire situation was. Morgan felt distant watching the world go at full speed around him when his mind seemed to be slowing, possibly even to a stop. For the longest time, all he had ever dreamed of was having his father back; because then the director of the youth center never would have been in the picture, and Morgan wouldn't have had to do things that weren't right because someone else was seeking pleasure. He could have been a star athlete like he had always wanted, and things would have simply been better.
Only, having his father here, right now, just didn't sit right with him.
He was silent for what seemed like the entirety of the dinner, only speaking up to offer and wash the dishes, where he could be alone and think. He mindlessly turned the sink on, ignoring the way the steaming water made his skin practically burn, and began wiping away bits of dried food and other gunk from the plates. His greatest wish had come true, but it felt so unreal that he could hardly enjoy it. It simply was not correct, and his mind was refusing to accept what was happening as reality. He couldn't fathom how something this strange could possibly occur. He flinched and dropped a piece of silverware as his finger was sliced open, deeper than a paper cut, but shallow enough to skip stitching. His crimson blood dripped slightly into the sink as he rushed to grab a paper towel, quickly placing pressure on the small wound. He stared at the washed dishes and finally realized that he hadn't been paying attention the entire time he was cleaning them. Time felt like it was flying when he was stuck in his mind.
Morgan wandered off to a bathroom and located a box of bandages, eyes widening when he unwrapped the cut on his finger. He dealt with gore practically every day of his life; he had seen some of the most gruesome mutilations, yet this tiny cut seemed to bother him almost as much as those terrible things. It would scar, surely, but it wasn't the appearance or depth that perturbed him. It was that lack of thought that he had just experienced that led him to do something so mindless without a second thought. He sighed and grabbed an adhesive bandage, wrapping the sticky parts around the part of his finger that wasn't bleeding.
The fact that he could feel the wound opened his eyes to something: he couldn't possibly be dreaming if he felt the sting of that cut. Which meant that, somehow, this was real, this was reality, and he couldn't leave it. He found himself smiling, suddenly knowing he was safe here, and he could have what he had always wanted so desperately. Morgan felt as though he truly was home and at peace with his surroundings. He threw the spare packaging into the trash bin and ended up back in the kitchen where the group of unwashed dishes sat in preparation. He picked his task back up and continued cleaning, losing the bandage at some point, groaning slightly in disgust when he found it, soaked and soggy, at the bottom of the now empty sink. He sighed and dropped it into the garbage, also deciding to complete the mundane task of taking that out and replacing the bag.
After a moment, his father appeared in the doorway, face illuminated with a satisfied smile. "Hey..." Morgan stopped, hating that his mind was drawing a blank on what to call his own father, "...Dad." He returned the smile with hesitation, walking closer to the man who had been absent without choice for an unfavorable amount of time. When no reply came, Morgan continued, his smile faltering for a moment. "I have to get back to work soon. I can't stay in Illinois forever. I live in Virginia now, so I have to book a flight back, it's important that I don't miss any days at the Bureau." There was a shortlived silence that eerily floated in the room, rendering Morgan uncomfortable once again.
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The Profile Of A Djinn (SPNxCriminal Minds)
Fanfiction[Completed] When a group of women go missing from a small town and are later found dead, the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI is called in to do a profile on the person committing the crimes in order to take them down. However, they aren't the on...
