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Deep down, Morgan knew he was right. Sarah was alive because of her actions, and that was something she could hold onto amidst the darkness that threatened to consume her. The thought of Sarah's grateful smile brought warmth to her heart, a small spark of hope in an otherwise bleak landscape.
The weight of the medal in Mueller's outstretched hand felt heavier than any burden Morgan had carried during her time in prison. She looked at the gleaming metal, reflecting back the fluorescent lights of the office, and found herself unable to accept it.
"Sir, I appreciate the gesture," Morgan said, her voice steady despite the turmoil within her. "But I can't accept this medal. It would be a constant reminder of everything I've been through, and I don't want that attention."
Mueller's eyes searched hers, as if trying to gauge the depth of her resolve. He gave a slow nod, understanding etched into the lines around his eyes. With a sigh, he withdrew the medal and placed it back in its velvet-lined box.
"Very well, Agent Cross," he replied, giving her a small smile. "I understand your decision. Instead, how about some time off? You've more than earned it."
Morgan contemplated the offer for a moment, feeling the exhaustion tug at her bones. Time away from the bureau, away from the lingering ghosts of her past, sounded like exactly what she needed. The thought of escaping, even just for a short while, held an undeniable allure.
"Thank you, sir. I think I could use some time to process everything," Morgan finally agreed, her heart lighter than it had been in years.
"Take all the time you need, Morgan," Mueller said, his voice warm and sincere. "When you're ready to return, we'll be here."
As Morgan turned to leave the office, she couldn't help but pause for a moment and glance back at Mueller. There was genuine concern in his gaze, a rare glimpse of humanity that had been buried beneath years of duty and obligation. For the first time since her release, she felt as though someone truly understood her struggle.
With a grateful nod, Morgan left the office, her steps echoing through the empty halls as she made her way towards the exit. The world outside awaited, vast and full of possibilities. It was time for her to confront her demons and begin the long journey of healing.
"Take care of yourself, Morgan," Mueller said, his voice softening with genuine concern.
"I will, sir." She hesitated, the question about her father lingering on the tip of her tongue. But she swallowed it down, deciding now wasn't the time to pry into the past.
With a final nod, Morgan turned and walked away, feeling the oppressive atmosphere of the FBI headquarters slowly lifting from her shoulders as she stepped out into the parking lot. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the pavement and bathing the world in shades of twilight. A cool breeze whispered through the trees, carrying the scent of damp earth and the promise of a fresh start.
"Morgan!" a familiar voice called out, pulling her from her reverie. She turned to find Derik standing by his car, his eyes filled with remorse. "I just wanted to say... I'm sorry, again. For everything."
Morgan studied him for a moment, taking in the sincerity etched in the lines of his face. Time had worn away the sharp edges of her anger, leaving only a dull ache in its place. She allowed herself a small smile, acknowledging the apology without giving voice to her own regrets.
"Derik, listen," she said softly, her gaze steady. "You have a son, right?"
He nodded, his eyes widening slightly at the change in conversation. "Yeah. He is my son, even if I haven't been in his life."
"Stay close to him," Morgan urged, her voice firm yet gentle. "Keep him safe. And don't worry about me." A sad smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "I just need some time to go off the radar for a while, sort out my life, you know?"
"Of course," Derik agreed, though his expression turned pleading. "But Morgan, can't you stay? We could help each other heal. You don't have to go through this alone."
Her heart ached at the sincerity in his words, but she knew she had to walk this path on her own. Morgan shook her head, her resolve unwavering. "I appreciate the offer, Derik, but this is something I need to do for myself."
Before he could say anything else, Morgan continued walking towards her car, feeling the lingering stares of her colleagues from the windows above. The darkness enveloped her as she moved further away, embracing the uncertainty of what lay ahead.
***
He watched her from afar as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the quiet suburban street.
He was parked a few houses away from her residence, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel as he scanned the area through a pair of binoculars. The man's eyes narrowed, taking in every detail of the scene unfolding before him.
She emerged from her home, her movements purposeful as she carried a couple of suitcases out to her car. Her dog trailed behind her, his tail wagging with enthusiasm. The man observed as she deftly loaded the luggage into the trunk, the muscles in her arms tense with effort. He couldn't help but admire her determination; even after everything she'd gone through, Morgan still carried herself with unwavering resolve.
"Good girl," the man murmured under his breath, a trace of satisfaction in his voice. "You're stronger than they realize."
As Morgan closed the trunk and patted Skunk affectionately on the head, the dog's tongue lolled out, panting happily. She whispered something to him – perhaps a promise of adventure or comfort – before turning her attention back to the house. The man watched as she locked the front door, an air of finality settling around her like a cloak.
"Where are you going, Morgan?" he wondered aloud, his dark eyes never leaving her form. "What are you running from?"
Her hands lingered on the doorknob for a moment longer, as if saying goodbye to a life she was leaving behind. Then, with a deep breath, she turned and made her way back to the car, Skunk trotting at her side.
The man's gaze followed Morgan as she walked back to her car, the gravel crunching beneath her boots, each step leaving a faint imprint behind. He observed the rhythm of her breathing, a silent metronome ticking in tandem with her heart. The dark streaks of her hair caught the sunlight, reflecting the fire that burned within her.
He saw her pause, looking around, and for a moment, he held his breath, wondering if she'd sensed him. But then she shrugged it off and continued to her car. Skunk jumped into the backseat, his tail thumping against the upholstery.
He started his car, the engine purring to life like a predator waiting to strike. His fingers drummed on the steering wheel, tapping out a familiar tune that only he could hear. The anticipation built inside him; it was a game of cat and mouse, and he was more than ready to play.
"Time to go, my dear," he said softly, watching Morgan pull out of her driveway and onto the street. "Let's see where this road takes us."
As her car disappeared around the corner, he allowed himself a brief smile, the corners of his lips curling in wicked delight. With a flick of his wrist, he shifted gears and followed her, the distance between them closing like a noose.
"Wherever you're going," he thought, his eyes locked on the fading taillights, "I'll be right there with you, Morgan Cross. Every step of the way."
