This story was inspired by "Conflicted" (Adam/Amanda).

This is totally AU, but incorporates concepts and some details from the show, such as Spencer being a genius and Derek's background. Also, the essentials of what happened to Spencer in "Revelations".

Summary: Spencer Reid suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder. Two years before the start of the story, Derek Morgan left Chicago and ended up as a detective with the New Orleans Police Department and is suffering from burn-out. He is drawn into Spencer's bizarre world and vows to help him save himself.

You will meet Spencer's alter ego in this first chapter (totally ooc) but "regular" Spencer will show up in the next chapter.

Unedited version can be found on Live Journal.


It was late evening when Detective Derek Morgan drove his ten-year-old sedan down a battered residential street to what had once been an elegant family home. He pulled into the driveway, coming to a stop in the secluded area in front of the garage and glanced in the rear view mirror one more time. No one was around, and the few cars parked nearby were empty, but he sat behind the wheel for a moment longer, just to be sure.

At this point, he was past caring about the moral, ethical, and psychological implications of what he was about to do. The first time, he'd been tense and paranoid beforehand, then guilt-filled and paranoid afterward, but that was well over a year ago--any vestiges of guilt had long ago been laid to rest. Today, all he cared about was that it had been ten days since the last time, and that was too long; he wanted this--hell, he needed it.

But, he wanted to keep his job, and a tough black cop on the New Orleans police force did not need to be caught visiting a hooker.

Especially, a male hooker.

Yet, here he was again, at the run down garage apartment on Dauphine Avenue, walking up the rickety flight of stairs to tap on the weather-beaten door of Lady Cassandra. He knew every creaky step by heart; he supposed that he had earned the dubious distinction of being one of her "regulars".

Lady Cassandra--that was her working name, the one printed on her simple business card, which bore no other information than those two words and a telephone number. Derek never bothered to ask what her real name was. He could have found out easily enough, but he never even tried. In the back of his mind was the knowledge that he really didn't want to discover that her given name was John or Bill or Duane. He preferred to maintain the illusion.

A flutter of anticipation welled in his gut as he heard rustling on the other side of the door; it swung open and the tall, skinny Lady smiled.

"Detective Morgan, so good to see you. Come on in." She had full lips, dark eyes, and long, honey-brown tresses that fell in soft waves around her face. She wore a pale shade of foundation, almost white--it helped cover any beard growth--smoky eye shadow, eyeliner, and a touch of deep-hued lipstick. She was dressed in a long silk Japanese robe with satin embroidery that caught the light, and she glided about the room, closing shades and lighting candles.

Derek loved the room. It smelled of exotic spices, with a hint of orange and rose, and it was soon washed in a warm amber glow from the shimmering candles. In some ways, he felt more at home here than in his own apartment. He'd lived there two years and it was still rather sterile--a result, perhaps, of working too many sixty-five hour work weeks.

Here, it was welcoming and homey. One corner was designated as a kitchen/dining area, and the rest of the space was a cluttered but orderly combination living room and bedroom. There was a mirrored dresser crowded with hair care products, a curling iron, and jars and tubes of makeup. Books covered every surface, and were even stacked on the floor; a computer, notebooks and writing supplies were piled on a desk. Derek glanced at the bed--as always, it was neatly made up with a colorful bedspread and lots of pillows. He pushed away thoughts of what she did there with other men.

"Make yourself comfortable, dear. I was just about to have tea, would you like some?"


Derek hung his jacket on the back of a chair in the tiny kitchenette and sat down. The Lady poured him a cup and set a bowl of sugar and a spoon in front of him. She placed a small plate of thin lemon cookies in the middle of the table and offered him a napkin. He nodded his thanks and watched her take a seat, a slim bare thigh escaping the folds of the robe as she crossed her legs. She closed her eyes as she savored a sip of the warm brew, and Derek liked the way she ran her tongue over her lips after that first taste of sweet tea.

"Mmm, do you like this blend? My friend Myra brought it to me from Vietnam last fall, and I never got around to trying it. What do you think?"

"It's nice."

"I think so, too. I was afraid it would be too strong, but it has a subtlety about it. I guess it's fit to serve to guests after all."

"I like it, it's good."

"Well, good! How have you been, sugar, I haven't seen you lately."

"Fine. I've been busy with work. Things have been--crazy."

"Oh, I know. I keep up. Did you ever get that mess on the south side straightened out?"

"We caught them."

"Good, good. Makes a girl feel safe, knowing a big strong man like you is out there protecting her." The large brown eyes twinkled at him and he allowed himself a grin. Her soft Southern lilt made even the most pedestrian flirtation sound sexy as hell.

"Yeah. Well--you helped," he said ruefully.

She laughed merrily. "Oh, goodness! I just asked a few pertinent questions. You already had the answer, you were just thinking on it too hard."

"You always help when I'm stuck."

"Well, I listen. You know, sometimes it's good to just talk things out. And, to tell you the truth, I love puzzles. I really like a chance to exercise the old gray matter." She winked and tapped the side of her head and beamed at him. He smiled back uncomfortably then glanced at his watch, and she frowned apologetically.

"Oh, listen to me, prattling on. You didn't come here for chit-chat today, now did you?" She stood up and sidled over to him, put one arm over his shoulders and wiggled into his lap. "What'll it be, angel? What can Cassie do for you tonight?" She brought her mouth down to his and gently bit and sucked his lower lip. He untied the belt at her waist and opened the robe, revealing a flat bare chest. He ran his thumb over a nipple and buried his face in her neck, inhaling deeply. She smelled fresh and clean, like the soap his mom used to use. He slid his hand down over her belly.

"Your mouth."

"Mmm. Yes, sir, Detective." She bit his neck playfully before she slid off his lap and knelt in front of him. He opened his pants, took out his erection and leaned back in the chair. She smiled coyly as she leaned forward and used her tongue.

She held his balls in her hand and murmured, "My, my, darling, it has been a while, hasn't it? Don't you worry, Cassie's going to take care of you. You'll be light as a feather when she's done with you."

Derek groaned as she took him in her mouth. She was a true artist, knowing just when to increase the pressure and when to back off; when to use her tongue, and when to press her teeth into the velvety flesh. And, when to let the thick member slide down her throat... Derek slid lower in his chair and put one hand behind her head and thrust deeper. He felt one of her hands tangle in his shirt tail while the other applied gentle squeezes, and he groaned again.

She continued her work until Derek reached his peak. She swallowed and pulled back, lapping at him while the last tremors of aftershock stilled, then continued to stroke him. He made a little whimpering sound and she looked up with a smile.

"How was that, darling?"

"Incredible. You're fucking incredible," he gasped.

She gave a pleased laugh, and said, "Well, I should hope so. I've had enough practice." She stood up and stretched and the robe fell away from her slender frame. He caught a glimpse of a pale bony hip, and the slack genitals that belied her feminine presence. Derek smiled. That was what he liked about her--apart from the carefully styled hair, heavy make up and women's clothing, she made no attempt to conceal her gender, didn't even bother to remove body hair. A male and female entity she truly was, and it was the best of both worlds, in Derek's opinion.

He reached for her hand and pulled her down to him so that she straddled his lap. She laughed and clasped her hands behind his head. Derek took both of their cocks and squeezed and rubbed them together. He grinned up at her, holding her securely with one arm around her waist, and he playfully tongued and sucked at a nipple. She yelped delightedly.

"Oh, my, Detective Morgan! You are in a mood tonight. You must have had a nice day."

"Not really, but you make me feel good."

"Well, now that's what I like to hear."

She ran a cool hand over Derek's shaved head, shimmied off his lap and went to the bed.

"So, you don't have to run off right away, now do you?"

"No. I've got some time."

"Well, then, come on over here, sweetheart. You want to watch some TV?"

"No, leave it off. How about some music?"

"Of course." She sat on the edge of the bed and fiddled with the stereo receiver and put on a local jazz station. Derek, recovered, stood up, went to stand in front of her and pulled her to her feet. He pushed the robe away from her shoulders and it slipped down her arms, then to the floor. He ran his hands over her naked body, taking his time, squeezing and exploring. No matter how often he touched her, every time was a pleasure.

"Oh, my..." she murmured. She put her arms around his neck and nibbled under his ear, then began opening the buttons on his shirt. He took off his clothes, lay down on the bed and pulled her down next to him. She snuggled into his arms and they lay quietly for a long while, just touching each other and listening to the music. He observed a fresh bruise on her shoulder, and an old mottled one on her hip. He still felt a rise of anger when he saw things like that. Her forearms were smooth, but he saw the track marks on the inside of her thigh and forced himself not to think about it. He allowed her to stroke him some more, then she bent down and used her mouth to bring his erection back to life.

Cassie looked up at him, knowing what he'd been looking for, and what he'd seen. He was so... different from the others. Always gentle with her, at least until they actually fucked. Then he could be a little rough, but that was ok. He just got carried away, he never meant to hurt her. And, it was good, actually. Sometimes, that was what it took to make her feel anything, anymore. As for the other things, well, in the beginning he'd be furious with her when he saw the marks. He tried to talk her into going into rehab, lectured her on how dangerous her profession was, blah blah blah. It was sweet. Now, he just sighed, and somehow, that got to her more than his outrage.

"What do you think, angel, want a little more loving?"

"I want this." He slipped his hand over her firm round bottom and squeezed, and she smiled before reaching for a bottle of lube and a condom. She helped him get the condom on then slathered his erection with the slick gel.

"Tell me how you want me," she whispered.

"On your back, legs wrapped around me."

She lay back, ready for him. He found her entrance, then slammed in with one fast thrust. She cried out, more for effect than anything--she knew he liked it when she was vocal--but he didn't hurt her at all. He pumped in and out a few times, setting his pace, then settled into a hard rhythm. She lay passively, stroking his arms and thighs, smiling when she saw him search her face.

She said things--"Oh, harder, baby! That feels so good..." and the like, things she knew turned him on, but in truth, the Dilaudid had kicked in and she really wasn't feeling much of anything now, she was just floating on the bed, aware of the regular push-pull that was happening below her waist, but not really in the room at all.

It took him a long time. When he was done, Derek pulled out of her, peeled off the condom and lay back to let the intensity of his orgasm wash over him until he felt coherent again. He glanced at her lying next to him--beautiful, eyes closed, long lashes resting on darkened skin. She was breathing slowly but regularly, and Derek shook his head. There would be no more lively discussion from her tonight. He got up, dressed, and pulled a wad of bills out of his pocket.

"Cassie. Here."

He waited until she roused enough to realize that he was putting the money into her hand.

"Oh--oh, darling, are we done so soon? That was so nice, you are such a stud. Oh, my, look at all that cash, that's way too much, baby. Way too much."

"No, no, it's fine. Take it. Take it. I'll see you next time."

"All right, sweetheart. Don't be a stranger, you know you're a little drop of sunshine for me, you know that, right? A little... drop of sunshine..."

Derek pulled her face up and looked into her clouded eyes.

"Be careful, ok?"

"Always, darling." She managed to bring forth a bright smile and he brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead. He went to the kitchen and put on his jacket, then headed out the door.


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