Derek Morgan heaves out a sigh, resting his head against the cool interior of the BAU's private jet. Many people dream of boarding one of these luxurious planes, but the things that are discussed in this cabin are better left for the movie theater.

"How you holding up?" Aaron Hotchner, the team's supervisor and lead profiler, takes a seat across from Morgan, his eyes unusually somber compared to his typical all-business demeanor.

"I don't know, Hotch. Do you think he'll ever be the same?" The team is flying back home from Atlanta, after a particularly difficult case that ultimately led to one of their own falling victim.

Hotch glances around the cabin of the jet. Because the BAU is only seven members big and they spend nearly every waking moment together, personal lives are hard to come by. Hotch knows he shouldn't be discussing their youngest agent's state with his fellow co-workers, but he is also aware that Dr. Spencer Reid is closer to Agent Morgan than anyone else on the team.

Across the aisle from them, agents JJ and Prentiss lie at either end of a couch, getting their first peaceful night's rest in nearly a week. At the other end of the plane, Agent Gideon is reading a book while their technical analyst, Penelope Garcia, plays an arcade game on her laptop. Seeing that no one can hear their conversation, Hotch decides to confide in Morgan.

"I think that Reid is a lot stronger than what we give him credit for," Hotch answers honestly. Morgan nods in agreement, feeling a bit guilty for ever doubting his best friend's ability to get out of the situation. "It's going to take some time, but he's going to be okay.

"There's something I'd like to talk to you about, since you brought it up," Hotch continues, looking directly at Morgan, who raises his eyebrows in question.

"With all due respect, sir, we just rescued one of our colleagues from a kidnapping situation. I'm not really up for talking."

"I understand that," Hotch says sympathetically. It is rare for their leader to show his emotions, but they are genuine when he does so. "I wouldn't ask, but I have Jack and Haley at home," he continues, referring to his wife and young son.

"What is it?" Morgan asks, getting the idea that whatever favor Hotch is asking of him may not be work related.

"Given everything that Reid has endured over the past couple of days, I don't think it wise to send him home alone." Morgan opens his mouth to say something, but Hotch raises a hand to silence him.

"I know that any of the girls would be happy to look after him, but I'm afraid that would raise suspicion within the Bureau. This team operates as a family, but that wouldn't excuse rumors of workplace romance."

"Are you asking me to babysit him, Hotch? You just said that we don't give him enough credit." Morgan struggles to keep his voice low. He glances around the jet to be sure no one is eavesdropping on the conversation.

"I'm not asking you to babysit him. I just think it's best if someone were to stay with him for a few nights. You've seen what PTSD can do to people, Morgan. Reid may be a genius, but he is still susceptible to mental illness."

Morgan ponders the idea of Dr. Spencer Reid, a 24 year old with an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187, suffering from PTSD, or any other type of mental restraint for that matter. It seems impossible. Then again, Reid being held captive, psychologically and psychically tortured, and injected with dilaudid seems unlikely as well, but it happened.

"Morgan, I do think that Reid is strong. But even the strongest of us need a good support system, especially in times like these."

Morgan thinks back to a few months ago, when he had been accused of homicide in Chicago. The team had been forced to profile him in order to prove his innocence, and as a result, they'd found out one of his darkest secrets. As embarrassing as it had been, support from his team was ultimately what Derek had needed to confront the man who had molested him as a child. He couldn't imagine going through that alone, and wouldn't want Reid to, either.

"Okay," he finally agrees. "I'll do it."

"Thank you, Morgan. He isn't cleared to fly yet, so I've arranged for an official vehicle to bring him home. He's expected to be released from the hospital tomorrow, so he should arrive the day after. Here." Hotch holds out his hand, dropping a small, silver key into Morgan's hand. After a former agent, Elle Greenaway, had been shot in her own home, Hotch had requested house keys from his team. This wasn't mandatory of course and probably against regulation, but it made him feel better nonetheless.

"You should go over tomorrow. Make sure he has groceries and other necessities. I've granted you a week's vacation. No one needs to know about this except for us. Agreed?"

"Agreed." Morgan tightens his grip on the key in his hand until it makes small indentations on his skin. The thought of anyone doing to Reid what Tobias Hankel did is sickening, and something within Morgan threatens to snap every time he relives those agonizing moments of his younger colleague being beaten at the hands of a psychopath. At one point, Reid had seized and stopped breathing, coming to only when their UnSub had performed CPR on him. With the image of a bruised and bloodied friend fresh in his mind, Morgan lays his head back and attempts to rest.

Morgan combs through the small apartment one last time, folding up the blanket he'd used to sleep on the couch the previous night. He'd come over, as Hotch had asked, and made sure everything was just right for Reid's return. After dusting, sweeping, and returning some scattered books to the shelf, he'd decided to just spend the night on the couch. It was now the next morning, and Reid was expected home at any time.

For the next twenty minutes, Morgan sits in an armchair and twiddles his thumbs, glancing at the door anxiously every so often. He knew that Dr. Reid was particularly old school, but he didn't realize the agent wouldn't even have a television in his apartment. This, Morgan fears, will make for a long week, but he doesn't mind it too much.

As soon as the doorknob rattles, Morgan is quick to his feet. He strides over to the front door in just a few steps and waits for the genius to step inside.

"Ah, there's my Pretty Boy!" Morgan beams, resisting the urge to thump Reid on the back for fear of hurting him further.

At the sight of him, Morgan's heart sinks. Reid has always been tall, skinny, and pale - a classic geek, as he'd often joke - but nothing to this extent. Reid's sweater vest hangs off of his skeletal like figure, his eyes are swollen with bright red circles underneath, and several cuts and bruises cover his face, neck, and hands. His arms, which no doubt still display track marks from the dilaudid injections, are covered with a long-sleeved button up underneath his sweater. Reid's brown hair hangs in greasy knots, barely grazing the tops of his bony shoulders.

"You don't have to do this," Reid mutters, gently brushing past Morgan and sitting his go-bag down on the kitchen counter.

"I know I don't," Morgan responds gently. He is taken aback by Reid's unwelcoming attitude, but tries his best not to blame him for how he is acting.

"Reid," Morgan continues carefully, "if you need your space, I understand. It'll be like I'm not even here. I promise."

Reid casts his eyes down. They used to be so full of life and excitement, but are now just empty vessels of sadness. "Thanks. I'm gonna go take a shower."

"Sure thing, kid." Morgan sits down on the couch and pulls out his cell phone, sending Hotch a text to let him know Reid made it home safely. Then, he lays down on the couch and shuts his eyes, falling asleep to the gentle sound of water coming from Reid's master bath.

"Shit! I'm so sorry!" Morgan sits up frantically, rubbing his eyes and looking across the room at Reid, who sits in a chair and reads a book on physics. Judging by the soft orange glow coming through the living room window, it is late afternoon. Morgan has slept all day.

"It's okay," Reid says, not glancing up from his book. He turns the page about every ten seconds. Morgan smiles to himself, happy that the ordeal did not affect Reid's ability to read 20,000 words per minute. "Hey, did you know that running makes you gain weight?"

"What?" Morgan yawns and stretches, looking at Reid with confusion written on his face.

"When you run, you exert extra energy. That energy has to go somewhere, right?"

For the first time, Reid looks up at Morgan. "I guess," Morgan shrugs. He's just woken up and isn't particularly in the mood for schooling, but it is worth it if it helps Reid cope.

"Right! So, that extra energy turns into mass. According to relatively, mass and energy are equivalent. Now, this typically doesn't occur with human speed. You have to be going at least the speed of light, which is scientifically impossible. Unless..." Reid trails off, his complex brain working up an even more complex formula. Smirking, Morgan stands up and wanders into the kitchen.

"Have you eaten?" He asks Reid.

"Shh," is the response he gets. "I've almost figured it out."

Deciding it best not to disturb a genius at work, Morgan digs around in the pantry for something to fix the pair of them. He isn't the greatest cook, but he survives on his own - even if that does mean eating a lot of take-out.

Finally settling on some chicken noodle soup, Morgan rummages through the cabinets until he finds the pots and pans, feeling a bit strange going through his co-worker's belongings. The entire time he's cooking, he can hear Reid mumbling things under his breath.

"So, did G-Man figure it out?" Morgan asks as enthusiastically as he can, sitting two bowls of soup down on the kitchen island. He pours two glasses of water and slides into a stool next to Reid, who thanks him for the water.

"Figure what out?" He asks blankly. Morgan sighs. Reid's brain is a complex machine, but sometimes it needs a little greasing up.

"You know, the thing with the speed of light and - "

"Oh! No." Reid's face falls. He swirls his soup around the bowl with a spoon, picking up the same noodle over and over and letting it fall back into the liquid with a plop. "It's impossible."

"You should eat, kid," Morgan inquires, quickly changing the subject. He knows how upset Reid can get when he can't solve something. He himself had felt the same way just two days ago, when time was running out and they still hadn't found Reid.

"I'm not really hungry," he mutters into his bowl, his attitude suddenly changing. Morgan knows this is a good indicator of PTSD, but it is too soon to be sure.

"Morgan, are you mad at me?" Reid asks suddenly, his face still tilted down towards his soup, though he has yet to take a bite.

"What do you mean?" Morgan asks, swallowing the last bit of his own meal and carrying his bowl over to the sink. He turns around to face Reid, his back leaning against the counter and his hands in his pockets.

"For what happened, I mean. It was my fault. If I hadn't split up from JJ..."

Morgan crosses the kitchen and leans over the counter, gently cupping Reid's bruised chin in his hand and pushing his face up to meet his eyes. "Don't do that to yourself, Reid. You did what your instincts told you to do. It wasn't your fault. We have a dangerous job."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Reid's voice is small and his eyes glassy, as if his mind is somewhere else - most likely the barn in Georgia, where he'd made the decision to break away from JJ and gotten kidnapped just a few minutes later. At first, Morgan had been mad at JJ, but he put his feelings aside in order to find Reid.

"You should go lie down, Pretty Boy," Morgan instructs. "I'll be on the couch if you need me."

The next morning, Morgan awakes to the savory smell of bacon playing at his nostrils. He rolls over dreamily, smacking his lips as he struggles to wake up.

"Rise and shine," a soft voice calls to him.

"Mm," is all Morgan manages to get out, swatting at the air with his hand.

"Now what kind of house guest would you be, rejecting my bacon and eggs on this beautiful morning?"

Morgan cracks one eye open, squinting into the bright kitchen. A tall, blurry figure in flannel pajamas slowly comes into focus. Morgan sits up, rubbing his temple in a desperate attempt to get his brain flowing.

"You're in a good mood," Morgan comments, padding into the kitchen and slumping down in a stool. "Nice outfit," he adds with a smirk, "I don't think I've seen you in anything other than a sweater and tie." He wouldn't say it to Reid, but it was an adorable look for him.

"Haha," Reid laughs sarcastically, transferring the last of his scrambled eggs onto two plates. He carries them over to Morgan, sitting one down in front of his colleague while keeping the other to himself.

"I didn't know you cooked," Morgan comments, practically inhaling his food rather than chewing it.

"I can recite every poem ever written by Edgar Allen Poe. I think I can handle a few scrambled eggs."

Morgan laughs as he takes a sip of coffee, shrugging off a nagging feeling that Reid is acting out of character. At least he's happy, Morgan thinks.

The two spend the rest of the day gossiping about the office, questioning whether or not Agent Hotchner ever smiles, and even playing a friendly game of Battleship. It isn't until they have both changed into their pajamas and turned off most of the lights that the inevitable is brought up, and Morgan knows there is no avoiding the topic.

"Hey, Morgan?"

"Hmm?" Morgan doesn't look up from his phone, where he'd been texting Hotchner about how the day had gone. He learns that the team has a new case in Florida, and is secretly grateful that he doesn't have to travel to the god-forsaken humid state.

"I...I hate to ask," Reid begins, his voice shaking nervously. When Morgan looks up, he notes that Reid's usually pale face has gone a bright shade of red.

"Something bothering you?" He asks, sitting his phone aside and giving Reid his full attention. He wants his friend to feel comfortable opening up to him, but can't begin to imagine how difficult this must be.

"It's just...you know how Tobias...the UnSub, I mean...hit my feet with the belt?"

Morgan nods, recalling the way Reid had yelped in pain upon impact. The screaming had been enough to rock Morgan to the very core, and he had almost broken down right in front of his whole team.

"Well, when he turned off the camera, he did it again. Only...to my back." Reid stares off. Morgan is quiet, giving him all the time he needs to speak. "The thing is...he did it so hard that it..." Tears well up in Reid's eyes. Morgan resists the urge to wipe them away.

"It cut me, and it - it hurts really bad." Reid does his best to swipe his tears away before they fall. Morgan pretends not to notice for the sake of avoiding embarrassment for his teammate.

"Turn around," Morgan instructs, saving Reid from having to ask a question that is clearly difficult for him. Reid does as he is told, shifting on the couch so that his back is to Morgan. This gives him the opportunity to let his tears fall on their own. Again, Morgan pretends not to notice the trembling as he slowly lifts Reid's shirt, his heart nearly beating out of his chest.

Morgan's breath catches in his throat at the sight of the younger man's back. Purple and black bruises swirl in contrast against his pale skin, with bright red marks interlacing between them and all up his spine, which sticks out prominently. Near the top of his back, a large, square bandage covers much of the area. The white cloth has been stained red in some places.

"I think it's bleeding," Morgan announces, grazing his fingertips over the soft bandage. He can literally feel the pain in his heart as Reid winces in front of him. He's too young, Morgan thinks angrily, too innocent.

"We're going to have to change these. Do you have more?"

Reid nods slowly, standing up and painfully pulling his shirt over his head. It hurts to stretch his cracked ribs, but he covers the look of agony well. As his flannel shirt falls to the floor, Morgan looks anywhere but at his injured friend.

Without a word, Reid goes into his room and comes back out a moment later, avoiding eye contact with Morgan as he hands over the medical supplies and sits back down.

After cleaning his hands with a disinfectant wipe, Morgan begins the process of peeling away the old bandage, careful to go slow in case the medical tape has worked its way on top of the wound. He'd expected it to be bad, but nothing could prepare him for what lie underneath of the cloth.

"Reid…" He breathes, taking in the sight of a six-inch long, one-inch deep gash across the upper portion of his back. The skin surrounding the cut is red and irritated, and a small amount of blood drips onto his skin. "Okay," Morgan collects himself, knowing he has to be strong for his friend.

"This is gonna burn, kid. I have to get this cleaned up." Guilt washes over Morgan as Reid stiffens in pain, the alcohol from the sterile wipe having a similar effect to flames inching across his back. "Almost done," Morgan reassures him through gritted teeth. The process is as painful for him as it is for Reid.

"Okay, you're doing great." Morgan isn't sure if he's talking to himself or to Reid as he balls up the old bandage and used wipes and tosses them aside.

"This will help." As gently as he can, Morgan uses the tip of one finger to rub antibacterial ointment across the length of the wound. The cooling effect seems to relax Reid, who is no longer as stiff as a board in front of Morgan.

"All done," Morgan says cheerily once he's placed a new bandage over the area. It is a minute before Reid turns back around to face him, his cheeks tomato red and a few stray tears running down them.

"Don't be embarrassed, Reid. I'm here to help."

"I know," Reid responds quietly. "Thank you."

Burned out from the pain and humiliation, Reid lets his head fall onto Morgan's shoulder without giving it a second thought. It is warm and safe, and the young genius feels at ease for the first time since they left for Atlanta. His bliss is short lived though, for Morgan stands up and offers a hand down to him. "Come on. Let's get you to bed." Reid allows Morgan to lead him to his room, not caring how weak or vulnerable it makes him seem. All he wants right now is to sleep, and for the pain to go away.

Morgan rolls over onto his back, tilting his head to view the fluorescent green clock on the microwave. 3:14 A.M., it reads. Unsure of what awoke him so suddenly, he allows his mind to wander off to places that he is afraid of - thoughts that both terrify and exhilarate him.

A smile threatens the corners of Morgan's lips as he recalls how soft Reid's skin had felt under his fingertips. Despite the cuts, burns, and bruises, something about his porcelain skin had taken Morgan's breath away. He'd at first thought he was just in shock at the sight of his injuries, but now he isn't so sure.

"Morgan! Morgan, make him stop! Morgan, please! No - no, I don't want it! Stop, please! Morgan…"

Morgan shoots straight up on the side of the couch, realizing what had awoken him in the first place. He doesn't even bother throwing his shirt on as he scrambles through the dark and into Reid's room, who is thrashing about on the bed and crying out for help.

"Reid!" Morgan says in a panic, crossing the room quickly and grabbing him by the bare shoulder. "Reid, wake up! I'm here! It's me! It's Morgan!" Reid continues flailing around the bed, his sweaty body becoming entangled with the silky sheets.

"Spencer!" Morgan shouts, lowering his head until the two men's foreheads are almost touching. As far as he can recall, Morgan has never addressed Reid by his first name. It seems to work though, and the young doctor's eyes flutter open. Morgan keeps one hand firmly on Reid's shoulder while using the other to brush away strands of hair that had become stuck to his sweaty forehead.

"It's alright," Morgan whispers soothingly. "It's okay, Spencer. Tobias can't hurt you anymore, okay? I...I wasn't…" Without warning, one of Morgan's own tears falls onto Reid's face. Neither of them move to wipe it away, and it eventually mixes in with one of Reid's.

"I wasn't there then…" He struggles to get out. "I'm so sorry that I couldn't keep him from hurting you." It's something that has been eating away at Morgan for days, but he'd pushed it to the back of his mind, not wanting to seem selfish at a time like this.

"I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere, okay? No one is going to hurt you ever again." Morgan doesn't open his eyes, afraid of how Reid might react to the somewhat romantic gesture. He's never hinted to Reid that he likes him before, and isn't sure if he'll feel the same way. He's surprised when something soft brushes against his cheek and he opens his eyes to see that it is Reid's thumb.

"Morgan?" The man underneath of him gets out in a shaky voice.

"Yes?" His heart is beating so loud, Morgan has to focus on controlling it just to hear Reid's soft whispers.

"Will you...could you maybe stay in here tonight? I promise I won't scream anymore."

More tears spill down Morgan's cheeks at Reid's selfless words, promising not to disturb the older agent with nightmares that he clearly can't help. Reid has always put everyone around him above himself. It is one of the many qualities that made him fall for the doctor in the first place.

"Of course I'll stay with you, kid. I'll always stay with you." Morgan gently slips underneath of the blankets, opening his arms so the smaller man can snuggle into them. He does so immediately. It feels unexpectedly natural when Reid nuzzles his head into the crook of Morgan's neck, allowing a few tears to drip onto his chest.

"And Hotch was worried about the girls," Morgan whispers aloud, giggling triumphantly.

"Hmm?" Reid grunts, keeping his eyes closed tight as he savors the sweet smell of his best friend. Morgan had thought Reid was already asleep. He smiles to himself.

"Nothing, Pretty Boy. I just said that I love you."

"Love you too," Reid mumbles almost inaudibly, pressing himself closer against Morgan's warm body as he finally gives in to fatigue. Knowing that he is safe in the arms of the strongest, most caring man he has ever met, Reid has no problem warding off the nightmares and falling into a peaceful slumber.