Amber swayed before my tired eyes druggingly. Its heat seeped into my skin, embracing me like a warm blanket on a cold night.

The lazy dance of the fire began to ablaze. That once beautiful warmth now turned fiery, angry. Unhinged, like a sweet lover that had turned into a stranger, a monster I didn't recognize. It destroyed, razed everything and anyone in its path.

In all my years walking the earth, I've never seen anything so rageful, so full of hate, that I shivered despite the immense heat.

One hundred and thirty six lives were lost that day. Everyday since, I still ask myself: Were they asleep, simply never to wake up again? Or were they awaken from their slumber, yet still fell victim to the monster? Did they suffocate, both by darkness and light?

I turned to the only being that I heard would never leave me, even when my father and mother do. I thought that being was hearsay; but I was desperate. So I sat at his place, having nowhere else to go. We had a quiet conversation; and an epiphany fell on me.

I can make it right. I still have time.

So I did.

I swear to God, I did everything in my power, yet still managed to fail. Over and over again. But I kept remembering my promise to that hearsay being: that I can and will make things right.

The next time I got that chance, I dropped everything and fixed my eyes to what was in front of me. This time around, I'm going to make it right-

The right way.

***

PRESENT TIME

The dining table for two were set beautifully in the middle of the small living room. The way he set up the place was exactly how I would dream years ago: romantic candle light in the middle, a tiny vase with a tiny sunflower in it sitting comfortably on top of neatly arranged, pressed white table cloth. An array of silver cutleries laid perfectly on each side of our white plates, prettied up with by a decoration consisting of small pine leaves at the edge of our plates.

A perfect table setting for a perfect date night.

He offered me a boyish, rather nervous smile as he gazed at me.

"You look beautiful," he praised as he produced a bouquet of white and soft pink lilies from behind his back, offering it to me. I took the bouquet from his hand, then dipped my nose into the flower, inhaling its aroma.

The soft floral scent was quick to transport me to a memory of a past time-

To the beginning of the end.

***

"...here is your entry pass. From now on towards the next three months, you will be assisting our unit's Technical Analyst. I expect you to learn from her. Believe me, she has a lot to offer. Do it to the best of your ability to get yourself acclimated to the team and how we work. During this probationary period you will not fly with us for cases, but you will assist remotely from the headquarter under the mentorship of Agent Garcia. Do you have any questions?"

I swallowed my nerve as I looked into the calculating eyes that belonged to my now Unit Chief, the legendary SSA Aaron Hotchner. His flat, business-only voice as he spoke to me didn't give away what he was thinking when he looked at me. Was he profiling me? Oh dear God-

"No, sir. I understand perfectly," I replied with a forced fake-it-till-you-make-it mindset. I even added, "Thank you so much for this opportunity. I will do my best, sir. You won't regret it."

Agent Hotchner, though aloof, gave me a polite smile that was quick to vanish, "I expect nothing less. Welcome to the team, Agent Dawson. I'll see you in ten at the common room-we have a new case."

"Yes, sir."

Agent Dawson.

I giggled inwardly at the new title as I walked out of Hotchner's office. I am an agent! The plain, old me-

As I made my way back to where I left my bag, my head had already left my body somewhere, and I was brought back to reality just as I bumped into a human wall that was Derek Morgan.

I felt myself easily bounced at the force, him being denser and bigger than me. It made me slightly panicky.

"Watch out, new girl," he said, flashing me a disarming smile. He leaned his weight to the wall next to us, his chocolate eyes teasing, yet behind the playfulness in them, I could feel his acute awareness; sizing me up, as if putting me under a microscope, "...first day jitters?"

Agent Morgan did maintain general personal space despite his obvious flirting, yet the duality in his gaze was quick to make me feel slightly uncomfortable. I scratched a ghost of itch that started behind my neck as I return his smile sheepishly. "Are you profiling me?"

He gave a low chuckle, shaking his head, "No. Do you want me to?"

"No," I replied back with a smile of my own. Wanting to make a good impression, I stretched out my hand for a handshake, "I'm Elizabeth Dawson; the assist to the unit Technical Analyst-nice to meet you."

"No way. There are two of you now? I am a lucky man," he said with a wide grin, clearly feigning surprise. I had no idea what he meant by that, but all I knew it would mean more teasing coming my way from the extremely friendly agent. "SSA Derek Morgan," he identified himself, taking my hand, and instead of shaking it like I tried to do to him, he pulled my hand to his lips and gave it a kiss.

So he was the player; the womanizer of BAU. But with that look he got going on-handsome face, beautiful chocolate skin and a defined, sculpted body-he was probably the womanizer of the whole FBI.

Unbiddingly, heat raised on my cheek at the gesture. It had been years since I let any male get close to me in such an intimate way, and I was so out of touch. It was undeniable that Derek saw my blush because he looked pleased with himself. All the while, my hand was still in his big one, and I was fighting myself not to pull away too soon to avoid offending him.

But then a beautiful, blonde woman named Jennifer "JJ" Jareau came to my rescue. She greeted me with the warmest, motherly smile after chiding Morgan for teasing the new girl, and introduced herself. JJ took it upon herself to introduce me to rest of the team members. Emily Prentiss, the badass female 007; Spencer Reid, the BAU's own living encyclopedia; and David Rossi, the charming yet brilliant agent whose voice reminded me much of the Late Night DJ's voice. If he wanted, he could probably talk me into selling him my own kidney.

My to be mentor, though, was not in yet. But when she came in just a nick of time before Hotchner began the briefing, I blinked.

She was not the Black Queen that I expected at all. She was not grumpy, dark or cold like the images I put in my head. In fact, the moment she walked in she radiated sunshine and cheer. The supposedly queen hacker who successfully broke Pentagon for three days, now represented the good that hold the humanity of this team together. Next to her, I would be invisible; something that I favor most of the time. Penelope Garcia was the opposite of me. She wears colorful blouse, polkadot skirt, purple tights, black high heels and a myriad of fun jewelries on her neck and ears. And to top it all up, she completely slayed those colorful eye make up.

This legend was going to be my boss.

Instinctively I straightened the ends of my T-shirt and my oversized, old flannel shirt, and I sat straighter. When she finally glanced my way, she gave me a brilliant, unrestrained grin. Upon seeing the warmth in her eyes, tension in my body released, as if finally knowing that everything was going to be okay.

Deep down, I felt my hearsay being looking out for me, and that BAU was where I was supposed to be.

"...wheels up in thirty."

With that, the team collectively stood up, each gathering their own files and documents scattered on the meeting table. My sole goal was to warm up to Penelope Garcia, which took next to no energy at all. The plump woman and I chatted as she walked me towards her lair.

Her amazing, state-of-the-art lair that made every computer nerds' wet dream.

To think that I would be working here, side by side the Black Queen, in this magnificent lair, got me freezing up in utter reverence. I didn't dare touch anything.

Garcia giggled seeing my face.

"I know I'm a guest-and I am honored," I said breathlessly, "What's the rule?"

"Just one, my furry friend," Garcia sat unceremoniously and spinned in her chair, "No coffee, tea, River Styx water, or any other liquid shall be anywhere near my baby. Mama must protect."

It was actually a very reasonable and quite an undemanding request. "That I can do," I replied as I giddily took a seat next to her to my new assigned seat, "Thanks mama!"

"You're learning quickly, my little furry friend," she purred, "Fear not! Follow mama's lead, and in no time, I shall teach you how to fly."

And fly indeed she made me.

In less than three months Hotchner called me to his office, and asked for my entry pass back. I felt heat began to gather in my eyes as I handed him the card, but before I could ask what I did wrong, Hotcher gave me a new entry pass and a badge. As it registered in my head, I released the breath that I didn't know was holding, and my heart soared in satisfaction as I felt my new permanent entry pass and my badge in my hand, "You are now officialy the Field Technical Analyst for the BAU. Congratulations, Agent Dawson."

***

"You earned this, cookie. Congratulations," grinned Morgan at me.

"Thanks. Don't start introducing me as Agent Cookie now when I finally get to go to the field with you," I replied cheerfully with a grin of my own.

"Naw," he said with that low, teasing voice of his.

After that I looked at the badge on my hand, staring at the word 'Agent', wondering if I got what it takes.

"Hey, don't you be like that, baby. Don't doubt yourself," he said, causing me to look up at him. "You got what it takes. If not, Hotch would never give you that badge."

"Right," I inhaled and gave him a smile. The edge of my lips quirked up, "When I finally see a dead body with their intestines hanging around and I pass out, you might have to carry me back to the jet," I commented playfully.

"You're tougher and stronger than you look, cookie. Besides, if you do pass out, I will happily carry you," he winked at me, making me chuckle again for the umpteenth time today. "These arms will always be available to you. All you need to do, is ask."

Despite being said in a teasing, flirty manner, I couldn't help but wonder if he truly meant it. Not knowing the answer, I shot him a grateful smile and a nod.

***

A HOUSE DIVIDED

The player Morgan; womanizer Morgan-his well known reputation was nothing but superficial. I knew the moment I saw the hidden pain lurking behind the tender look in his eyes as he talked to an eight-year old survivor after his parents and his sister had just been killed in his home by our unsub.

We caught the unsub. Hotch made sure to make an airtight case so he would never be free again. But even with that victory in mind, nobody felt victorious-especially Morgan.

Not when he was the one holding the little girl's hand as she breathed her last, calling out for her mother, and that he was the one who talked her brother down into going with the Child Services.

It was late by the time we all finished our debriefing. Hotch sent us to our respective hotel room, letting us rest before our flight back home early tomorrow morning.

I wondered if they could even sleep.

After having my shower, I put on my old jeans and an oversized red hoodie over my tank top. I left my still wet red hair unbound as I made my way to the first floor of the building. As a personal rite of passage, I always made my way towards the chapel after closing a case. I sat at the second front row of the chapel; letting my eyes gazed at the wooden cross in the middle of the deserted place.

Me and my hearsay being never spoke with words. I didn't even bother to put a name on him. But what I do know was that we had an understanding. He was there when I had no one to turn to, and he was the one with me ever since. So we made this pact right after I joined the BAU: that for every case closed and for every life I have a hand in saving from death, I would sit here with him, my hearsay being, and I would open my pocket leather book, and he will watch as I write the name of the people saved that day.

17. Eric Johnson

As soon as I wrote the eight-year-old boy's name, a wave of guilt seeped through me, making my eyes slightly glistening with moisture. It didn't feel right to write his name in this book.

Did we really save him, so that he can grow up an orphan, alone, tossed around within the foster system?

It felt wrong.

I clicked my pen on again and began to open the last page I wrote his name on, with intent to scratch his name. But just as I was about to do so, a familiar voice that belonged to Derek stopped me in my track.

Instinctively I clicked my pen off again, closed my pocket book and stuffed them in my hoodie's front pocket.

"Hey, cookie. Fancy seeing you here."

Morgan offered me a handsome smile. His chocolate eyes tired, yet mischievous as he sat himself next to me. Despite the cheeky smile on his face, he maintained a comfortable space between us, unlike the way he would near Penelope.

If anyone didn't know, they'd think they both were an item.

It was unsaid between us, but Morgan, being an excellent profiler, learned a long time ago that I didn't like being touched; that close proximity made me uncomfortable. He never asked about it to me. He still teased and flirted with me though, and after getting over my shyness around him, I began to talk back to him, which I found out later, that oddly, it was his language of love to his close female friends.

"Hi, Derek," I greeted him, flashing him a smile, my hands clutching at the book in my hoodie a bit tighter. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm your guardian angel. Watching over you, sweetness, protecting you from the night."

"The answer to my prayer," I cooed, chuckling at him.

"Indeed."

I looked down to my feet as I pressed my lips together. I both hate and like the way Morgan fixed his chocolate eyes on me, as if I truly held his full attention-the rest of the world be damned.

And he knew the effect he had on me, or on any women he flirted with, and he was damn proud of the fact. Luckily, he let me off the hook this time and decided not to bring it up.

"I didn't realize that you are religious," he started, for a moment glancing at the wooden cross before us, then turning his gaze back at me.

"I'm not."

"Interesting. So that's not why you come to find Jesus after every closed case?"

I tore my eyes away from the cross, then met Derek's eyes, surprised. I didn't know how he knew, because as far as I know I never once announced any plan to go to a chapel for every meeting with my hearsay being. Deciding not to ask, I looked away and took a deep breath as I looked at the seat in front of me.

"Forgive me father, for I have sinned," I said with a smile, "But me and him, we just sort of have an understanding. A status quo, if you will."

Derek's expressive brows quirked together in curiosity. "Do tell me more about it."

"Usually the priest is available between eight a.m towards 5 p.m on weekdays."

He flicked my nose gently with his index finger, making me giggle. "Smartass," he mocked me half heartedly. Then I noticed how he sighed as he rested both his elbow on the chair behind him, letting his head fall backwards as if he was being sleepy.

But I knew he was far from it. If the tension on his neck was not an indicator, then him actually coming to the chapel was a sure giveaway that the case today was affecting him quite harder than any other cases we had.

"We did well today, Derek. You especially," I praised with a smile, "You saved the boy."

He opened his eyes lazily and tilted his head to look at me. A lopsided smile, and a soft scoff from him let me know that he didn't buy my words completely, but I didn't blame him.

I wasn't even sure if we did anything good today, or if what we did was actually worth anything.

Derek turned his gaze to the ceiling, then closed his eyes again, as if resuming his microsleep. I let my eyes wander to his form. He was a magnificent male specimen. Tall, dark, definitely handsome. He knew that and he lets everyone else around him know that he knew of the fact. But behind all that strong, hard body and a smile that drove any female insane, I imagined that there was a small version of Derek-an adorable, eight year old Derek that for some reason identify with Eric Johnson.

At that moment, something convinced me that he was in pain, and that behind all that easy goingness and male prowess, Derek Morgan wasn't immune to pain and loss.

"Angel of mine?" I called him playfully.

"Yours, baby," he replied with a contented smile. Despite not opening his eyes, I knew I had his full attention now.

"I could use a hug," I said, swallowing my nerve, "May I?"

That got him to lift up his head and opened his eyes. He was staring at me with a frown on his forehead, as if disbelieving his ears. "Baby, you don't even need to ask."

I smiled, a blush crept up my neck despite the general dark clouds hanging over our heads. I wrapped my arms around his slender waist, for the first time feeling his hard, warm body against mine. Like this, I could feel his heart beat; I could feel his warmth and a soft scent of men soap radiating off of his chest.

Unknowingly, I tensed as I first made contact with him. I still disliked the feeling of someone else trapping me with their lack of personal space. So I braced myself, knowing how touchy feely Derek was. But that typical male, bear hug that I saw him gave our other team mates never came. Instead, it took him a while to return my embrace; and when he did, he did it with such a tenderness that I didn't expect coming from a big guy such as Derek. As soon as I felt his loose but still welcoming and warm embrace, I began to feel myself relaxing in his arms.

He pressed his cheek on top of my head. "Took you long enough," he murmured with a smile while the vibration of his low voice went straight to my ear, making me rather sleepy, "...a year and three months."

The hug. I had never initiated a hug with him before. Usually, I was just enduring people's hugs.

"I'm shy," I confessed in half truth.

"Why?"

"I have a lung made of metal. Can only initiate hugs on the good days to keep away from magnets."

Again, half truths.

"Well, you breathing good, right?"

"Mmhmm."

"That's cause I got no magnets on me, baby."

"I thought you're a chick magnet."

"You're not just some chick. You're my sweet cookie."

I chuckled at that. "And you're my chocolate. We get each other."

Derek's small laughter reverberated on my cheek. He probably realized that Penelope was rubbing off on me. "Ain't that the truth, baby."

I didn't know how long we stayed like that in that deserted chapel. But what I did remember was that when I started nodding my head off, Derek was there to gently rouse me and walked me to my room before retreating to his own.

***

[Author's Note: I am evil for starting yet another book that I don't know if I will ever finish, but I must do this before I go crazy with raw, unprocessed ideas. This book is mainly in Criminal Minds fandom but with my own twist of the story that are heavily inspired (or copy pasted) from 2 or 3 other tv shows. So far, can anyone name what tv show those are? If you can, you probably can guess where this book is going. But this is a mainly Derek Morgan/OC fic, so keep that in mind as fluff & hurt/comfort are my main goal here. Thanks for reading!]