We actually need to talk about Derek's kidnapping like it's genuinely one of the most terrifying, gruesome things that has happened to one of the team members. Like it's actually insane?? The fact Derek (barely) SURVIVED it too??
First off, multiple trained assassins kidnapped him, drugged and beat him and put him in a box like some goddamn cargo. Transported him to the middle of nowhere, a cabin with nowhere to run. Their meticulous work, how they strung him up and restrained him so it looks like he's on a cross (religious imagery goes crazy). Leaving him completely immobile.
He was surrounded by multiple dangerous assassins in the middle of nowhere with no chance to even struggle against his restrains.
The beat him, hooked him up to a goddamn heart monitor to ensure that his vitals are dangerous but not enough to kill him because they wanted to prolong the torture. Using white phosphorus, which is a war crime, setting it aflame with a heated knife, to burn him because he didn't react to the beating. It didn't just burn through his chest but also actively kept poisoning him until he neutralized it enough with copper sulfide because he remembered Reid mentioned it once. And when even that didn't pull him out of his dissociation, they subtle implication that Solomon wanted to rape him. In a cabin.
The fact that Derek, while drugged, beaten, burned and poisoned, pulled himself out of his intended dissociation and killed multiple, again, trained hitmen while being completely at a disadvantage. Running outside only to realize he had nowhere to flee. The fact he had to gut the guy, dig through his intestines to find the Sim card so he can call for help. How he couldn't. Losing consciousness over and over again because the poison already set in. And still, while he was weak and disoriented and sick, he still tried to fight against the boss. How the guy pinned him down on the table by ramming a knife into his hand, tearing through muscles and tendons.
The fact he flatlined in the ambulance and saw his dad. Jesus, the fact that he conjured a fantasy of his dad to help him through it to begin with. (their scenes need a whole essay on their own bc omg)
Derek survived that. If he wouldn't have been able to dissociate on command, due to Buford, something that soldiers are being trained to do, he wouldn't have. How he still profiled the hitmen while actively dying. Despite all his disadvantages, the drugs, the pain, the poison, he gained the upper hand. If he hadn't, he would've been long dead before the team could've found him and they wouldn't even have his dead body to bury because those hitmen where that good. They had a goddamn clean up crew.
But also the aftermath of it. The physical and mental trauma that followed and never got explored.
Besides the bruised ribs he most definitely got, his hand, his dominant hand, had been ripped apart by the knife. And while it healed up, it still hurts sometimes. Shooting a gun must feel like it's tearing apart all over again. White phosphorus can burn through bones. His whole upper torso is completely, deeply scarred. With each breath, the burn on his skin intensified and kept tearing. The healing progress must've been hell, even after weeks, his chest still feels on fire. Wearing shirts feels like sandpaper. And how despite that godawful pain he can't bear being shirtless because the scar is a neverending reminder what they had done to him.
And the toll it has taken on his mind. Whenever he goes grocery shopping he keeps looking over his shoulder because what if. Always staying vigilant, never being able to calm down. Everyone and everything is a threat. Installing new locks in his house, more and more security systems and still never feeling safe because what if they come back (they do). Getting claustrophobic in small spaces because it reminds him of the box he woke up in at some point, probably having tried to kick, punch and scratch it open, only to realize it's not possible.
The nightmares, how he's back in the cabin but his body is small and all those hitmen are Buford.
The smell of his burning flesh ever persistent in his nose. How he gets nauseous whenever he sees meat because he still feels the guy's blood and intestines in his hands and the sounds it makes while he had to dig, how warm they've been. He can't eat meat for a very long time.
Those hands don't leave him, a creeping presence on his skin just like the scarring across his torso. Savannah can't touch him, he dreads her touch but needs it so desperately too. Even if he doesn't want to, whenever she touches him he tenses and has to fight the instinct to fight, push her off, survive. Sometimes he can't.
The shame of having his body taken from him again. He tries not to give them that. Not again. But he can't look at himself in the mirror because he sees the scars, smells the burns, tastes the poison and throws up. He showers in the dark, doesn't allow to be seen naked. Sleeping next to his pregnant fiancée is quite impossible, sleeping with her is impossible for a long time. Being seen naked again takes even longer. She's a doctor but he doesn't allow her to change his bandages. She's his wife but being naked with her makes him sick because he can't hide what they did to him. He doesn't tell her, but she doesn't have to know to know. The shame intensifies.
Savannah is pregnant with his son, but the joy doesn't set in for a long time. He hates himself for it, hates himself for not being the partner he should be because all he can think about is how dangerous the world is and how those locks and his guns and his credentials won't be able to protect their child (he is right). He couldn't protect himself from all the abuse, how dare he think he'll be strong enough for their child? Instead of joy, panic sets him. It takes a long time until he can allow himself to be happy about finally being a dad, after having wished for it for so long, until he can allow himself to be more than just a scarred guard dog.
The time in between being awake and asleep is the worst. It feels like his mind is slipping, like dissociating. He can't dissociate. His father won't be there for him this time. It won't save him this time. There are no cabins anymore, they'll follow him if he dissociates. He can't give them that. It still happens. Renders him useless. He panics.
He doesn't sleep, gun always only inches away no matter how much it puts Savannah on edge. She doesn't say anything. He's grateful.
Months of fighting, recovery, therapy, anything to be good again. A good partner, a good father, a good agent for his team. Thinking that if he just goes back to his job he can displace it again. It has worked before, with Buford. Seeking redemption in saving yet another victim with the same fate. But it doesn't work, it makes it worse. He doesn't know who he is without a purpose, without sacrifice, without his strong body. He's lost. But he keeps fighting because that's who he is.
And he gets there. Because he's Derek Morgan. Because people need him, because he fights to learn how to allow himself to deserve it. Because he deserves to have a gentle life. He's happy, he's finally excited for their child, for a new beginning.
And then Savannah gets shot right in front of him.
