Warnings: angst, minor fluff, anorexia, eating disorders, depression
request: Could you do an imagine where the team finds out the reader is depressed and has relapsed with her ED? Then Derek gets her alone and comforts her. Super fluffy
Summary: You’ve struggled with an eating disorder your entire life. When a case involving women with eating disorders pop up on your radar, you sink back into the hole. Can Derek rescue you in time?
Squares Filled: hurt/comfort for @cmbingo
Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in! this is unbeta’d and every mistake is all on me.
Feedback the glue that holds my writing together
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Many people know this about you just from how you look, but they never want to judge. They see you even if you have three layers of clothes on. The look in your eyes, your high cheekbones, and your prominent collarbone. They see how sunken in your eyes look, and they immediately judge you for the decisions you made in life.
Yes, you are anorexic, and yes, you have depression. It started at an early age--early enough for your mother to start judging you. She is the sole reason why you have these disorders in the first place. She never missed an opportunity to comment on your weight. If you were over what she thought was acceptable, then you were going to hear it.
“You’re looking a little chubby, Y/N.”
“You may want to lose five to ten pounds if you want people to like you.”
“I’ll buy you all the clothes you want when you’re a four again and not a six.”
Even when you were at a healthy weight for your age, she still made jabs and comments about it. She died a year after you were hospitalized for malnutrition. You thought it would open her eyes and make her see what she’s doing to you. As soon as you got better, she was back to her old ways. Even though you’re fifty pounds under what you should be at, you still think of yourself as obese. It was bad when you were growing up, but ever since you got into the BAU and met the love of your life, Derek Morgan, it’s gotten a bit better.
He’s been supportive of you through it all, and he’s the reason why you’re in therapy and eating a bit more. It’s not where he hoped you would be at, but it’s a start. The entire BAU team was supportive, but they were nothing like your boyfriend. You’ve been trying to gain fat and muscle, but you still were a bit underweight… okay you were a lot underweight, but you were working on it.
“Hey, I got you this,” Derek said and handed you a bag from McDonald’s.
“What is this?”
“You skipped breakfast this morning. I got you two sausage egg McMuffins. I hope you’re hungry.”
“Thanks, Derek,” you smiled.
You knew it meant a lot to him if you ate it even though you weren't particularly hungry. Okay, maybe you were, but you couldn’t inhale it like you wanted to. This process required baby steps which is perfectly fine with Derek. He’s going to be here until you’re full on running. You took the sandwiches out of the bag, and as soon as you smelled it, your stomach growled. You didn’t mean to miss breakfast; you woke up late. Derek smiled when you took your first bite, and you ate it slowly. He got you two, but you both knew you might not even finish one. It’s the thought that counts.
“Briefing room. We got a case,” Hotch announced as he walked from his office to the conference room.
“I’ll finish the rest later, okay?” you said and placed half of the sandwich down. Everyone from the bullpen entered the conference room, and JJ got started. The case involved an unsub snatching young girls and killing them before dumping their bodies in places he wanted people to see like sidewalks, in people’s yards, etc. It’s surprising how he hasn’t gotten caught yet, but you would do your best to figure out who he is before he can kill another unsuspecting victim.
“Thank goodness you’re here. I just finished with the autopsy,” the medical examiner said once you and Rossi entered the morgue. Both bodies of the victims lay on the table. They looked so peaceful, but that’s not the thing you noticed. They were so skinny and hollow, much like how you were when you first were diagnosed with anorexia.
“What happened to them?” you asked.
“They were starved to death. They weren't given the nutrition they needed, and the killer knew this.”
“How do you know?” Rossi wondered.
“They were snatched from rehab centers. Both women have been diagnosed with eating disorders. It’s how he kidnaps them. I found one of their cards stuffed down her throat since he used it to keep her quiet.”
These girls looked so peaceful now that they were dead. It was a terrible thing to even think about, but maybe you would be happier if you were dead. Even though you’re depressed, you’ve never been suicidal. Sure, the thoughts of dying came and go whenever they pleased, but they never stuck around long enough for you to act on it, much less plan it.
Seeing these girls brought back a rush of unpleasant memories that you wished would stay locked up. A heavy weight laid on your shoulders, and you didn’t speak the rest of the time. Rossi knew this was a touchy subject for you which is why he didn’t really ask about it. He left that up to Derek and told himself to tell him when they met up again.
Rossi told Derek, and he talked to you, but you made it seem like you were doing better. You didn’t want to make him disappointed with you taking a few steps back. You weren't progressing anymore, and you were scared Derek would be so mad at you. In fact, when he brought you food, you would nibble on it to make him happy, but as soon as he was looking away or gone, you’d throw the rest away.
You never had the courage to make yourself throw up. You never took big bites that could force that side of you out. You made everyone think you were eating but threw it out in a trash can far away from everyone else so they wouldn’t know. Your depression got so bad that you had to go home. Hotch knew you weren't okay which is why he let you go home early. If you weren't going to give it your all, then he didn’t want you at all. You understood where he was coming from so you weren't mad when he told you to go home.
Derek didn’t know you went home, and he spent at least ten minutes walking around the whole building to find you. He was passing by the offices of some of the other desk agents on the other side of the bullpen when he noticed something in the trash can. It was the exact plate of food he gave you earlier, and he knew it was yours because it had the ketchup smiley face he drew to make you smile.
Why would you throw this away? Why couldn’t he find you? Oh shit, where were you and what were you doing? He looked around for the first person he knew, and Hotch was walking out of a nearby bathroom.
“Hotch,” he called out. “Where is Y/N?”
“She went home early. I thought you knew.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Why don’t you make sure she’s okay.”
“Yeah, thanks,” he muttered.
He was already out the door to get back to your shared apartment. He was scared to find out what he might be interrupting, so he rushed back which took him half the time. He used his key to force the door open, but you were nowhere to be found. He could hear your cries in the bedroom, and he lightly jogged into the bedroom.
“Y/N?” he knocked lightly.
“Derek?” you hiccupped.
He walked over to you and knelt on the floor so you could look into his eyes without lifting your head.
“You were doing so well, Y/N. Why are you not eating?”
“Those women, Derek. They had an eating disorder too. I don't know why, but I just couldn’t bring myself to eat,” you cried.
“Hey, you’re doing the best you can. Please don’t compare yourself to anyone.”
“I’m sorry, Derek. I didn't want to disappoint you,” you stuttered.
“Disappoint? You could never, Y/N. Just because you had a setback, doesn’t mean you should give up hope. We just had a minor bump in the road, but we can still work through this.”
“We?” you sniffled.
“You’re not alone in this, Y/N. I am so proud of you. You’re doing such a good job. You’re trying which is all I ask.”
“I don’t deserve you,” you cried once more.
“You deserve everything you could ever hope for. I know you don’t want to eat, but why don’t we try? Even if it’s just a cracker. Baby steps, remember?”
“Baby steps,” you nodded.
Derek leaned up and kissed you softly to let you know he isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. And you didn't want him to.
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In the immortal words of Flogging Molly, I DON'T KNOW WHERE I'M GOING! I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE FUCK I'M GOING! YARGH!
Today we had our Employability Lecture for English Majors. The moral of the story? I will either be bored; angry; dressed in respectable office wear; and correcting other peoples mistakes, OR I will be a successful writer of young adult fiction. More likely than either of those, though, is that I will be on a stolen ship somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean, pursuing a life of crime and drowning at a young age.
Nothing good about the future seems probable. I hate being realistic.
