"He told us that he would be more famous than he realized. And he was right."
Derek sat in the dark staring at the bullet that could have claimed his life... should have claimed his life. He could admit that he didn't see Foyet coming. He was looking everywhere but to his right. O'Mara was supposed to have that side of the house. Looking back now, not even O'Mara had a chance to survive once they entered the house. Foyet was too skilled. He had ten years to perfect his plan, to get into Hotch's mind. However, Derek was used as a pawn, and he couldn't handle it.
Derek had seen his share of bullets in his life. He knew their size, weight, damage and cost. He knew how to fire a gun and how to protect himself and his team. However, as he held a singular bullet in his hand, he couldn't help but wonder what life ending damage that could have happened if Foyet would have gone off profile, if he had ended his life during his state of unconsciousness.
He was so engrossed in the bullet and his thoughts that Derek didn't hear Penelope enter his home. She looked at his haunted demeanor and her heart broke more for the man she proudly called her best friend, her soul mate. Instead of shaking him from his mind, she decided it would be best to feed Clooney and get dinner started for him. He needed to eat. None of her babies had been taking care of themselves during this case. Now that they were home, it would be her job to make sure her heroes regained their former strength and abilities, starting with the keeper of her heart.
She unloaded the groceries she bought for him and placed them in their appropriate places among the kitchen. Knowing he had been injured, Penelope decided that homemade soup would be Derek's best ticket to relaxation. She remembered getting the message from JJ that Derek had been injured. Penelope felt her heart stop. She acted much like a robot until she received a call hearing his voice. She could hear his anger and disturbance over the line, but at least he was alive. Emily had taken the phone from him when she realized that he wouldn't be any comfort to Garcia, however she thanked her friend for giving her the opportunity to hear his voice. Penelope could breathe easier knowing that her Derek would be returning to her.
Once she put the vegetable beef soup on medium heat to start its two hour cooking process, she looked to Clooney and saw he was resting comfortably on his dog bed. As he grew in years, his needs were less and less active. While Penelope would usually be saddened by that reality, she was relieved that she could now focus on her best friend who remained unmoved on the couch.
Penelope rested her body against the wall dividing the kitchen from the living room, she studied Derek in his focused and haunted mood. He rested his elbows upon his muscular thighs. His gazes was solely upon the bullet he rotated between his finger tips. His jaw was clenched tightly and his eyes were clouded with anger, confusion and frustration. Deciding to finally speak since entering the house, she whispered, "Derek, honey, maybe you should take a shower. It would help you relax."
He said nothing and continued to stare, his mind on a whole different level from where she was.
Stepping toward him, Penelope began studying the evidence of his injuries beneath his shirt. She could see stitch patterns as well as gauze markings. Looking at the clock and returning her focus back to him, she realized that he probably hadn't changed or cleaned his wounds since the attack. Penelope tentatively brought her hand to rest upon his shoulder. When he stiffened beneath her touch, she quickly withdrew her hand, as if she had been burned. The physical rejection he projected upon her sent burning tears to her eyes and she looked away from his frame. "You need to clean your wounds," she whispered, praying her voice didn't reveal her recent pain.
"I will," he spoke coldly as if he was only speaking to her on the phone instead of in the flesh before him.
Knowing Derek needed to open up about his experience, Penelope took a seat on the coffee table after moving some magazines. She wouldn't touch him, but kept her gaze upon his distracted form. "What happened to you was something that the best agents are never prepared for. From what I have gathered from Hotch's reports as well as Emily's recount, your partner was killed while you were looking for the Reaper in the house. You relied on him to have your back. You were unprepared when Foyet took you through the window."
"He was supposed to kill me," Derek said.
Penelope closed her eyes as the seriousness of her tone reminded her of the significance of her almost losing him. Continuing with her words, she said, "You are alive for a reason, Derek."
"The only reason I am not dead is because I passed out. I was blind sided and I left unconscious after going through the window. Penelope, I have been hit by men much larger than Foyet and yet I passed out for him? I couldn't fight him. There was no interaction for him. That is why I am alive." Derek felt his frustrations thrive on his mind. He kept replaying the moments over and over in his mind, trying to see if he could have done something different to subdue Foyet instead of passing out and letting him flee. None of his scenarios produced a happy ending and anger continued to run through his blood.
"That may be true, Derek, but that means that Foyet is truly sick. You did nothing wrong."
"If I had..."
"If you had done what, Derek?" Penelope asked, attempting to meet his eyes. "If you had stayed awake after crashing through a window? What would you have done? Would you have fought him? Would you have subdued him? Would you have arrested him? What do you think you could have done?"
"Something else," Derek growled. "I wasn't interactive enough for him. This bullet was a message, a message that my life was granted due to my lack of participation. This bullet reminds me that he is still out there and and that we can't find him."
"Do you honestly thinking that staying conscious after being tackled through a window could have made the difference in Foyet's destiny? Derek, he had years to plan this out. He lived for this opportunity. I am so proud that you didn't give him the satisfaction of him witnessing your surrender." Penelope moved carefully to touch his hand, but was shocked when he stood and paced away from her. Deciding she was a fool for attempting another moment of touching him, she brought her hands to her lap and wrung them together to release her excess energy.
"He is out there, Penelope," Derek said looking out the window. "He is out there with my credentials, with knowledge of each of us in the BAU, with more motive than ever to be in hiding. If I could have stopped him, then maybe the world would be safer."
Penelope knew that she wouldn't be able to shake him for his guilt. Instead of fighting, she stood up from the coffee table and moved toward the kitchen. Before entering, she looked at his frame, his back now facing her searching for solace in the moon. "For what it's worth, I am very grateful that you aren't dead, Derek Morgan. You have so much to live for." Nodding to herself, Penelope made her way back to the kitchen to mix the ingredients of her soup and finish cleaning her mess.
For moments that felt like hours, Derek took in Penelope's words and pleaded with himself to seek sanctuary in her confidence and love. He knew he needed to shake himself from this rut that Foyet put him in. He remembered Hotch's words, that he would need to move on if this had happened to him. Derek was a reasonable man. He was grateful to be alive and that Foyet hadn't chosen to take it in the heat of the moment.
He was brought out of his thoughts when he heard sniffling from the kitchen. Moving ever so quietly, he rested his body against the wall and watched his best friend stir the soup upon the stove. As one hand rotated the flurry of ingredients, the other was wiping her eyes to keep her tears at bay.
"You never have been good at hiding your emotions," Derek said softly from his position.
"Im not crying," she said, wiping her eyes more vigorously. "The onions are getting to me."
"Really?" he said, moving slowly behind her. "If memory serves, there aren't onions in your vegetable beef soup. Reason for their exclusion was due to unnecessary vapors that spark tears. Am I on the right track, Ms. Garcia?"
Derek was surprised to see her stiffen with each of his steps growing closer. By the time he reached her body, her body was stiff as an ironing board, stirring long forgotten, yet tears fell from her eyes. He lifted his hands and had them hovered over her skin, not touching her, but testing her ability to maintain their physical barrier. His hovering hands ventured down her arms, traced her hands through the air and made mindless patterns as his hands travelled up her spine. He could feel her electricity was their bodies remained so close and yet their hearts were so far.
Knowing he need to take the plunge from here, he lowered his hands to her waist. As his arms locked her against him, her back to his chest, she began lowering her defenses. Penelope rested her back slowly against him as he lightly peppered kisses along her shoulder and collar bone. Tilting her head to the side to give him access to more skin, he nipped his way up her neck torturously slow. Some kisses were light as rain, while others like brands upon her ivory flesh.
As Derek's lips approached her jawline, he turned them slowly so her back was now toward the counter tops and he was placed between her thighs. In a passionate kiss, he lifted her upon the counter top and tugged roughly upon her clothing. Their kisses were filled with fire and passion that was unlike anything either were prepared for in this moment. As his hand reached up to palm her breast, he could feel her heart beating erratically, much like his own. He looked over her shoulder to calculate how long it would take them to make it to the couch or his bed. However, as her lips latched to his neck hungrily, her hand reached into his pants and she grabbed his pulsating cock.
"No time," she moaned as she ground her throbbing core against his hardening member. Penelope quickly unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants to remove him from his jean clad prison. Lowering his pants slightly, she brought him eagerly to her entrance and proceeded to tease him to initiate the act she desired for.
Surprised by her forwardness, he looked into her eyes and asked, "Commando?"
Wrapping her legs around his hips, she pushed his cock deep within her and she moaned in pleasure. "Thong," she moaned as her hips rotated to urge him to thrust deeper.
Rolling his eyes behind his head in pleasure, he began thrusting deeply within her. He tried to make it slower, but she turned his head and took his lips into a greedy and hungry kiss. "Just let go, Derek. Take your frustrations and let them go. Just fuck me, Derek."
Derek began moving into her faster and harder. He knew this wouldn't last long. However, while one hand palmed her breast eagerly, the other moved down to tease her swollen nub. By pressing harder against it, Penelope moaned loudly and began bucking against him frantically. Derek felt his body be possessed by a hunger that could only be recognized as animalistic. Instead of having her arms wrapping themselves around him, he forced them down to the counter top and proceeded to fuck her harder. With increasing speed, he could feel Penelope's frustrations with her inability to touch him. Derek pivoted his hips as he thrust to give her great satisfaction. As her inner walls came clenching around his cock tightly, he emptied himself inside her, him releasing a growl that more resembled a lion's roar. He never knew he could make a sound like that. As their moments became slower, the after shocks of their orgasms sending them pulsating and shaking, Derek lowered them upon the kitchen floor, each staring at the ceiling attempting to catch their breath.
Penelope was the first to move after their incredible sexual experience. Penelope never knew she could feel so electric, so passionate, so desired. And yet, she feared what this would mean for the two of them. They were best friends before anything else. Would this send Derek running?
As Penelope sat up and began to move, Derek grabbed her arm and lifted himself to kiss her shoulder. "Pen..."
Penelope turned her head to meet his hypnotizing onyx eyes. Biting her lower lip, she looked at him cautiously.
"Thank you," he whispered, kissing her softly. "Thank you for leading me where I needed to be."
Winking at him sadly, Penelope pressed a final kiss to his lips and said, "Any time for my favorite man in the entire world." She playfully slapped his jean clad thigh and gathered herself up to return to stirring the soup.
From the kitchen floor, Derek put himself back to working order and watched as Penelope resumed her domestic activities, as if their kitchen encounter had never happened. Giving her a playful smile, he said firmly, "That wasn't a one time thing for me."
Rolling her eyes, Penelope was taking notes on the side of the counter, indicating what else they needed for dinner. "Whatever you say, Hot Stuff."
"You don't believe I could make an honest woman out of you, Goddess?" Derek asked.
"You can try, my delicious chocolate morsel. Let's see if you can tame me." She looked over her shoulder and flashed him a naughty smile.
Laughing at her playful ways, Derek knew that he would need to do some major convincing for Penelope to realize that this was definitely not a one night stand for him. Once he had his Goddess, he was never going to let her go.
Though Derek knew his concerns with Foyet were far from over, he knew he was able to move forward. Now that he knew he would have a Goddess by his side in all ways that mattered to a man.