without you¹ | derek morgan. ✓

59 | home.

derek's pov.

I turn the corner, feeling someone suddenly run into me, "Shit, I'm so sorry." I hear a familiar voice state.

I look down as the familiar face looks up;

Charlotte.

"I, uh- sorry, I didn't mean to-" She begins.

I shake my head, "You're all good." I mutter in a low, raspy tone as my eyes meet hers.

A sense of awkwardness fills the atmosphere between the two of us.

"I, uh, how's your head?" She asks to fill the awkward silence.

"What?" I ask, my brow furrowed.

"From the incident." She states.

I nod, my lips parting slowly, "Oh, yeah right. Uh, the doctor cleared me last week so I'm good to go. I'm back to work." I state.

Charlotte nods, glancing around, "I can see that." She states.

I nod, "Yeah." I mutter.

The both of us stand in front of the other, both of us glancing at the ground as the awkward feeling slowly withers away.

I clear my throat, "Can I talk to you?" I ask.

Charlotte shrugs, "I, uh- I have a meeting with Hotch and Strauss right now." I state.

I nod, my brow furrowing, "Oh, right, I heard your switching to arson?" I ask.

Charlotte shrugs slightly, "I was gonna move back to New York and work in the arson department, but I don't think I can bring myself to do that." I state.

A distant memory begins to fill my mind;

I nod in understanding, "Yeah, I know how badly you hate the New York lifestyle. I remember how big of a pain in the ass your mom was when you last saw her." I state.

"What?" She asks, her brow furrowed.

"What?" I ask in confusion.

Charlotte shakes her head slightly, "Nothing, I'm just- I don't know, I'm tired and I'm hearing things." She states, chuckling softly.

I nod, placing my hands in my pockets as I let out a breathless laugh, "I get it." I state.

Charlotte smiles softly as she glances over to Hotch's office, her brow furrowed, "Listen, I have to go. I have a meeting with Hotch, but maybe we could catch up later? We could have that talk you asked to have?" She asks.

I nod, "I would like that." I state in a low tone, placing my hand on her upper arm.

She flinches slightly at the impact—my brow furrowing in confusion as a distant memory fills my mind.

Charlotte shakes her head slightly, "Nate was a blackout drunk most of the time when he and I were together, and he and I were having our own issues so I didn't want to pile it on-" She begins to explain.

"What kind of issues?" I ask, my brow furrowing as I cut her off.

Charlotte sighs heavily, "He, uh, well... Nate used to get really drunk and when I didn't wanna pursue him because he would never fully consent to it, he would get super mad. And since he was blackout drunk most of the time, he didn't realize when he got angry. When he was angry, he used to hit me." She explains in a mumbled tone.

"He hit you!?" I exclaim, my voice rising a bit in anger, causing Charlotte to flinch.

Charlotte nods as my eyes begin to search hers, "That's why you were crying earlier in the interrogation room." I pause, piecing it all together, "You weren't scared that I had actually committed murder, you were scared because I was constantly slamming my hands against the table, yelling, and because I smashed the file box against the wall." I mutter in realization.