* THIS STORY IS ON PERMANENT HIATUS *

I do not intend to return to it and continue it, ever. I do not remove it from the site, however, because for one, there's no shame in admitting that I didn't finish a story. It happens and seriously? It is a hobby, there are no obligations here, right? And another reason - I got a few very nice reviews for it and I want to keep them. They matter a lot to me.

At least now you don't have to continue reading, because now you know there's no solution.

I am truly sorry for never completing this story.

An almost-perfect drabble (104 words but I don't see any that I could remove to make it 100) . Disclaimer: Those characters are not mine.

He's dead

"He's dead." Nothing in Hotch's voice betrays emotion; nothing ever does.

Morgan's voice on the other hand is barely above a whisper, "He is." A breath.

"He's gone."

"I didn't have to kill him."

"It doesn't matter."

"He wasn't threatening me or the boy."

"It doesn't matter!"

Morgan shakes his head in silence.

"Morgan." Hotch grips his arms. "What matters is that he's dead. Gone."

Morgan doesn't cry but he's as close to tears as he can ever be. "It won't bring Emily back."

"Actually," Hotch's voice breaks. It never does! He has to swallow to be able to speak again. "Actually, it might."

Thanks for reading. :)