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opheliacassiopea · 4 years ago

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CHAPTER 10.

TW: Mentions of a weapon.

Landing back in Quantico that evening was a welcome feeling, the few hours of sleep you managed to get on the plane making little difference in rejuvenating your body and you were practically on auto-pilot for the short twenty-five minute drive back to your apartment. Typing in your alarm code, you quickly tidy your things away, securing your weapon and your credentials. It might seem odd to start tidying your apartment when your body is aching all over, and you’re practically dead on your feet, but it calms you, tethers you to some form of normalcy. So you cleaned the small amount of mess you’d left in your rush to get to work once you’d gotten the call to come in, you weren’t really a messy person anyway so it didn’t take long. Apartment cleaned, you set about fixing yourself dinner and hopping into the shower, turning the water to the highest temperature, the hot water bringing you comfort, easing your sore shoulder and side as you wash away the stress of the last few days.

Despite how tired you are, you fear that sleep won’t come to you easily, you had a lot to think about, your mind still focused on the case that technically still wasn’t over as the paperwork hadn’t been completed, and of course you couldn’t help but think of Hotch, what had happened between the two of you. Realistically you knew nothing would come of it, but that didn’t mean you could suddenly stop thinking about it altogether, it was incredibly good sex after all, and the sweet moments afterwards were something you couldn’t forget any time soon. Clambering into bed and getting comfortable under the covers, you find that sleep washes over you quickly, leading you into a dreamworld. Many hours later you awaken from a peaceful sleep the next morning, feeling well rested and slightly less sore than the day before and decide to make the most of your morning off, choosing to change the bedsheets and open all the windows to let in some fresh air. Along with the rest of the team, you were having to head into the office later that afternoon to fill out the paperwork for the recent case in Bend.

Much like your appearance, you look pride in your apartment looking the very best it could be, and much like your appearance, your apartment truly resembled you too. It was a fairly decent sized apartment, the reasonably sized living room decked out with fashionable, yet vintage looking sofas and chairs that were situated around the antique coffee table that faced toward the TV. Arguably the best part of the living room was that in the cupboards of the small coffee table, was a small projector that allowed you to play some of your favourite films, or productions of your favourite books and it was something you often did on your days off. Stacks of books, plants and knickknacks lined the shelves that covered many of the walls, all arranged to look neat and tidy, rather than cluttered. The back corner of the room was home to your record player and cart of vinyl's, next to your beautiful wooden piano, plants and candles covering the top. There were many smaller lamps dotted around on the side tables throughout the room, small trails of fairy lights used to accentuate certain accessories.

The back wall of your bedroom was painted in your favourite colour, a deep forest green, your bed placed directly in front of it whilst the rest of the walls were exposed brick, which was the main reason you’d fallen in love with this particular apartment. There was a decent sized wardrobe along with a full length mirror, chest of draws and a small vanity, all home to strategically placed plants, accessories and yet more fairy lights to make the room warm and inviting. You used the smaller box room at the end of the hallway as an office so had decided to keep the colour scheme fairly neutral since it also doubled as a spare room, but was still filled with yet more books and little knickknacks that you absolutely adored and truly made your apartment feel like home and the walls were adorned with your various achievements. Your bathroom could be described as a jungle, multiple plants lived on the window and hung down from the ceiling in macramé pots, loving that it made the room feel more open. The kitchen was relatively simple, a decent sized dining table with benches and chairs always sporting fresh flowers in the middle and the windowsill lined with various cookbooks you’d yet to even open. In short, you loved your apartment, it was your sanctuary, where you felt safest and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride when it came to your home.

Filling the rest of your morning with errands and odd jobs like laundry and food shopping, your morning off scurries by in a hurry and you’re soon headed back to Quantico, ready to speed through the necessary paperwork and potentially catch up on any other administrative tasks you needed to complete. The bullpen is relatively quiet upon your arrival and as you walk through the glass doors, you can already see Reid halfway done with whatever he’s working on, smiling to yourself you stop by the breakroom to grab yourself a tea.

“I’m surprised that you’re here on time, you looked dead on your feet yesterday” Prentiss greets you as you enter, handing you your mug from the cupboard.

“How charming of you” you rebuke, swatting her on the shoulder as you take the mug. “I feel way better after a decent night's sleep” you tell her as you finish making your drink.

Sensing she wants to say something you turn to face her as she begins to speak up. “That case, I know it was your first of its kind and it was pretty intense, I just want to check in with you”. Concern was apparent in all of her features and as always you appreciated how the team looked out for you, for each other.

“Seriously, I’m fine, all good I promise. Not looking forward to sorting out this paperwork, the reports are gonna be much more complicated, and with that being said, we better get a move on” you say as you exit the breakroom and head over to your desk, freshly made tea in hand.

After a couple of hours of completing various forms and case reports, you begin to bring the report you were working on to a close and as you came to the end of the sentence you were writing, you lean back and flick your gaze to Hotch’s office to find that he was already looking at you. Sending him a small smile, which he returns immediately, you dip your head down and continue working the day away, offering to help JJ with some of her extra case consults.

Finally the weekend rolls around and you’re buzzing with excitement, once a month the team meets for breakfast in a local diner and if you’re being honest, it’s one of your favourite pastimes with the team. It’s laidback, it’s easy and you relish in the simplicity of it. It’s not even been ten minutes since you’ve all sat down at one of the large round booths at the back of the diner, conversation flowing; Spencer telling Emily and JJ about traditions for new homeowners, Derek and Penelope swapping office gossip, whilst you’re engaged in a conversation with Dave and Hotch about the upcoming FBI triathlon in a few months when you’re interrupted by your phone ringing.

“SSA Paisley Selwyn” you speak into the phone, wondering why nobody else was taking a phone call, let alone a phone call from a bureau phone number; normally the entire team would receive a phone call if you were all out of the office to inform you of a new case or potential emergency.

“This is Heather Price, Chief of the Crime Translation Unit. We’re in need of a translator for a case we’re working and as a language and linguistics expert, you’d be the perfect fit to help”

she tells you over the phone and you’re slightly unsure, you’d heard of the unit a few times in passing, but never been involved. This might strike an outsider as odd considering as the woman rightly stated, you did specialise in linguistics, but the BAU appealed to you much more.

“I’m flattered, but is there nobody else that can fill in for the case?” you query, you loved your work, but sometimes you needed a break and you weren’t overly keen on leaving breakfast with the team. With such bizarre schedules and hectic jobs, sometimes dealing with unspeakable things, you welcomed any normality that you can find. For that morning the eight of you aren’t FBI agents, you’re just eight friends out for breakfast and today that’s exactly what you needed.

“Unfortunately not no. We’re keen to make use of your profiling abilities too. I’ll see you here in no less than forty minutes” she informs you, hanging up shortly after. Letting out a small sigh, you twist with the two pendants hanging around your neck, you’d been looking forward to this morning since the moment last month's breakfast ended and it hadn’t gone unnoticed by the team.

Seeing your slightly crestfallen facial expression as you place your phone on the table, Derek is the first to question you. “What’s going on, Lee? Who was that?” concern evident on his face.

“Heather Price, she’s requested my help on a translation case” you tell him, looking down at the table as you do and when you look back up, you have the entire eyes of the team focused on you, a range of facial expressions on show; JJ and Emily look slightly surprised, Spence and Dave looked proud, whereas Hotch’s expression never falters, staying stoic as ever.

Spencer’s eyebrows suddenly shoot up. “The translation unit? Isn’t that where Oliver WIlliams works?” he questions and you know he already knows the answer, his voice raising slightly being the dead giveaway and despite your slight annoyance at having to leave you can’t help but laugh at him.

“Don’t act like you don’t already know that, you’re not that smooth, Spence. I’ll tell him you said hi” you tell him, through Derek's confused expression only makes you laugh all the more, clearly he hadn’t been clued in on Spencer’s slight crush. Collecting yourself, you turn your attention to the brightly dressed woman to your left.

Penelope however, looked outraged that you had to leave. “What?! Now?! But it’s your day off, you can’t miss our breakfast, you’ve been looking forward to this for ages! Is there really nobody else they can call?”. Penelope exclaims, waving her hands as she expresses her annoyance at the interruption. Arguably, Penelope valued these outings with the team more than the rest of you might have done, working back in her office to perform her technical magic whilst the rest of you were out in the field, or even another state, left her somewhat isolated and therefore occasionally missing out of the odd inside joke so times like these were perfect for filling her in on any missed gossip and it broke your heart to see her upset at the change in plans.

“I know, I know, sorry PG, we’ll just have to do something another time” you tell her, kissing her cheek as you begin to gather your things in order to leave. Standing up, you bid the rest of the team a hurried goodbye, hearing the end of their conversation as you go.

“How many languages does she even speak? I lose track of her sometimes” JJ questions, though you can tell she’s joking and it’s Reid who answers.

“Three; French, Spanish and Italian. Though if you count sign language, it would be four, which is marginally impressive because statistically speaking..”.

Quickly swinging by your apartment to pick up your weapon and credentials, you decided against changing out of your very casual outfit, this was meant to be your day off after all.

It was an odd feeling riding the elevator to a different floor, nerves building in your stomach for whatever it was you were about to work on. Stepping out of the elevator and taking a deep breath, you’re greeted by who you assume to be the woman you spoke with on the phone. “Unit Chief Heather Price, nice to meet you, please, come this way” she introduces herself to you with a welcoming smile, gesturing for you to follow her to her office.

“As I mentioned on the phone, we’re in need of an translator, specifically for Italian translations. I realise that your primary work for the bureau isn’t in fact translating, but you’ve come highly recommended to us and we think your knowledge of language and linguistics, along with your profiling abilities would prove to be an incredibly useful asset for this case” she informs you, handing you a brown folder that clearly contains the case information that you flip open and start to read over, leaning back on one of the office chairs when there’s a knock at the door.

“You wanted to see me?” the voice questions. Head snapping up from the file in your hand, you see that the voice belongs to a male detective and you immediately placed him to be Oliver Williams thanks to Spencer’s descriptions. He’d confided in you about his small crush during

one of the late night sessions in the library; the two had met around a month ago when the team was working a local case and in order to solidify a theory you and he were working on, Reid had gone to the translation office to collect a transcription manual and bumped into the man and since then the two had been buying each other coffee

“Ah, yes I did” Price tells him, ushering him into the room. ��This is Dr Paisley Selwyn, I requested her help on this case as you know”. Pushing yourself up from the arm of the chair, you lean forward to shake his hand and the two of you exchange pleasantries and you can tell that the both of you will get on well as Price starts going over the case plan, explaining that

essentially the two of you would be left to your own devices, taking the lead on the case and she would only be stepping in when it came to the interrogation of the suspect.

Following Williams back out to the larger desk spaces, the two of you begin working the case, starting over from the very beginning, and coming up with entirely new strategies regarding everything from the translations of smaller articles of evidence, to various interview methods and spoken translations. Eventually you found yourself working in a rhythm with Williams, discovering that the two of you had similar methods in translating which sped the process along and soon you found yourself enjoying the work you were doing; applying theories, methods and techniques you hadn’t used since doing your masters degree and it came as an easy reminder as to why you loved working with language. When it came time for the interrogation of the suspect, it wasn’t hard to tell that both Price and Williams were impressed with your translation skills, picking up on the smallest changes and inconsistencies that eventually brought the case to a close at around eleven o’clock in the evening.

Now you were sat with Williams filling out the huge stack of files for the case, because you weren’t officially part of the unit, there was more paperwork than usual and by the time you were both done and finally out the door, it was pushing midnight. Walking to your cars, the two of you conversed like you’d known each other for a lot longer than a day and you called across the car park to him “Oi, Williams, Spence told me to tell you hi” which caused him to smile from ear to ear and blush a deep pink and you smiled to yourself as you made your way home, singing along to the radio as you drove.

A/N: I can’t believe I’ve written 10 chapters of this fic already! Tried making this a slightly shorter chapter as the past few have been quite long. Don’t forget you can follow along and read the story over on my Wattpad: @opheliacassiopea

As always, let me know what you think; any feedback is welcome!🖤

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfic #fbi #behavioural analysis unit #aaron hotchner #aaron #aaron hotch hotchner #ssa aaron hotchner #hotch #ssa hotchner #hotch x you #hotch x reader #hotch x oc

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opheliacassiopea · 4 years ago

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CHAPTER 9.

TW: Typical case briefing, mature language, mentions of weapons, a stalker, significant injury, car crash, suicide, blood/gore and murder/death. Case based off 4x23.

As soon as you wake up, you notice that the other side of the bed is empty, flicking your gaze to the bathroom, you notice there’s a small note on the table, informing you that Hotch had gotten a call and headed into the station early. Padding over to the shower and stepping in, you let the water wash over you, along with thoughts of the night before; you’d had sex with your boss, you’d had sex with Hotch. Maybe it was a good thing you’d woken up alone this morning, you didn’t regret it, but you knew there would have to be a conversation at some point, Hotch wasn’t one for spontaneous one night stands, or at least that’s what you thought, but then perhaps things were better just left unsaid? Putting on your outfit of the day that consisted of a plain black t-shirt, forest green blazer and plaid trousers that you’d rolled up at the bottom along with your signature jewellery and doc martens, you gathered your things and headed out the door, ready to meet the others and drive to the station.

“Morning, you’re lookin’ good today, Lee” Morgan greets you in his silky voice, smiling as you join him and the others. Some good sex the night before works wonders you thought, not that you told them that of course.

“Morning guys. Are you saying I don’t look good every morning?” you tease, hand to your chest in mock pain.

“Yeah Morgan, that’s no way to compliment a lady” Reid chimes in, taking your side as he moves to greet you, waving with his coffee cup in hand.

“No Hotch this morning? Did you really piss him off that badly, huh?” Prentiss asks you, raising her eyebrows as JJ laughs beside her, their hands intertwined as normal.

“No, he left a note saying he’d gotten a call and headed into the station early”. You say as you shrug your shoulders, not wanting to seem any more bothered than normal. Making your way to the SUV’s you join in with the small talk, listening to Reid’s stream of facts and statistics, which are shortly drowned out by the noise of the local radio and before you know it, you’re hopping out of the driver's seat as you arrive at the station.

The four others walk ahead of you and as you move to follow them, Rossi pulls you to the side. “Everything okay, Cara?”. The use of the Italian word for ‘dear’ showing that his concern was genuine and you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d noticed Hotch’s strange behaviour yesterday and somehow knew what happened between the two of you last night and you began to panic slightly, but played it off as best you could.

“Sì. I’m okay, everything’s fine, Zio”. You tell him, reassuring him with yet more smatterings of Italian, something that the two of you often did, both of you finding humour in the fact that you chose to call him ‘uncle’ rather than addressing him as his true relation to you; it was incredibly ironic, not that the team knew that of course. Making your way inside of the station a few moments later, you thought over what you’d said. You genuinely did feel okay, you didn't regret your actions last night with Hotch at all, you didn’t feel awkward about it and part of you knew it was because he was more than likely never going to be the one to bring it up, and quite honestly you knew you wouldn’t either.

As soon as you walk in, accompanied by Rossi, you feel Hotch’s eyes on you and see a flash of concern in his eyes. “Everything okay?” he questions, moving toward you, not noticing the items in his hands.

Nodding in response you reply. “Yeah of course” and you can’t help but to smile at him and you’re pleased to see him return it ever so slightly, not wanting to seem any different than normal in front of the team.

“Good. Before we make a start these are for you, figured you didn’t have the chance to get breakfast”. He speaks to you, handing across a freshly made tea and a raspberry muffin and you force yourself to ignore the watchful eyes of the team that are very much focused on the current interaction between the two of you. He doesn’t give you the chance to thank him as he turns to the rest of the team. “Let's get started, focus on where we left off yesterday” he announces, his instructions taking most of the focus away from you, but you still feel a few lingering stares.

“You heard the man, let’s get going” you protest, eventually following after them.

Sitting in one of the chairs in the conference room, you flip open one of yesterday’s case files, taking a bite out of the muffin that Hotch had gotten for you, just as Prentiss drops into the chair next to you. “Look at Hotch buying you breakfast, what’s that about?” she asks quietly, not even bothering to hide the curiosity in her voice, nor the slight hint of a smirk.

Turning to face her, you keep your face and tone of voice as natural as possible. “No idea, maybe he wants to make up for being a dick yesterday”. You rattle off easily, feigning genuine confusion and it clearly pays off as she murmurs her agreement and asks you about the current file you were working on. If only you know how he really made up for it you thought, but pushed the thought aside, you needed to be professional, thoughts of Hotch could wait till later.

After much back and forth, the team is able to narrow down that the accident happened between a five month window of September 2007 and January 2008 and Hotch tasks you and Reid with visiting one of the rehabilitation facilities to speak with a Doctor Ridgeway, who would hopefully be able to offer more information. The drive there is easy, accompanied by Reid who fills the time by spewing facts about local radio stations which was prompted by you turning the radio down as you focused on the conversation at hand.

“Hey, I just thought, this is the first time we’ve been partnered together since you’ve gotten your doctorate. I’d always said that you were as smart as me”.

Looking over to him in the passenger seat, you smile at him before looking back at the road. “Well I suppose it is, but you’ve still got me beat in terms of the actual amount of doctorates,

and you speak more languages than I do, not to mention your ridiculously high IQ. So I’m afraid you’d be wrong there my good Doctor”. These conversations were not unusual for the two of you, it was nice to talk to somebody about your academic achievements without sounding like you were boasting and Reid understood that more than most.

“Technically I understand more languages than you, but I think being fluent in three is marginally more impressive”. He replies, not wanting you to put yourself down in light of his qualifications and you smile at this thoughtfulness. Carrying on the conversation for another five minutes or so, you quickly arrive at the facility and Reid introduces you both to the receptionist who takes you to find Dr Ridgeway.

She finds him in his office and he greets you immediately. “I spoke to Agent Jareau on the phone regarding some information you might find useful”. He rises and shakes your hand, whilst Reid waves from slightly behind you. “Dr Ridgeway”.

“Doctors Selwyn and Reid. Thanks for calling, what do you think you have for us?”. You ask the man, ready to get straight to the point, you knew the clock was ticking and it was only a matter of time before there was another victim.

“He left our facility around four months ago, he didn’t make the kind of progress we’d initially hoped for”.

Reid moves forward, craning his neck to see the file in Dr Ridgeway’s hand. “Progress physically?”

Not looking up from the file, he responds with a shake of his head. “No, no. Physically he made massive improvements. Psychologically, less so.” he informs you, regret tainting his voice.

“So he had anger issues? Did he ever talk about revenge, getting back at the person who caused the accident?” you question, pressing for more information.

“We have the patients here write and draw daily, we find small tasks help to strengthen their hands. Here, take a look for yourself.” He holds out a file and Reid is the one to take it, scanning over the contents at a frightening speed.

“Doctor, forgive me, but surely you could tell that this man was disturbed, these drawings are incredibly detailed, incredibly angry. He’s basically drawn out the perfect murder fantasy” Reid states, eyes flicking up and down from the folder.

“Grief takes on many disturbing forms, surely you two would know that more than most in your line of work”.

Ignoring him, Reid passes you a few of the papers in the folder. “Paisley, look, all drawings are of different red cars, it’s like he couldn’t decide which one”. It’s at this point that the doctor informs you that when the patient's memory came back, it was fluid, meaning that it was constantly changing and you were able to decide that as his mind tried to work out the truth of what had happened, his targets constantly changed. After getting confirmation of the patient's name and date of the accident, the two of you headed back to the station.

“September 28th, 2007”. Is the first thing that leaves Reid’s mouth upon your arrival back at the police station as you walk into the conference room.

JJ looks at him with confusion “What?”

Saving her from a long winded explanation from Reid, you take over. “It’s the date that Ian and Shelia Coakley crashed on their way home from Napa Valley, heading Eastbound on Route Seven at around midnight. It appears they were run off another road, flipping numerous times with no witnesses present”. You explain to her and the rest of the team.

“His wife was in the passenger seat and later died at the scene. Coakley survived and was left with a spinal cord related injury and unable to walk again”. Reid takes over, finishing your point with a flourish.

Rossi finishes reading over the personal file of Ian Coakley first and with a heavy sigh places the file on the table, informing you all that Coakley was in fact a former mechanic in the armed guard. Joining you all at the table Detective Fulbert asks. “Is there any mention of a red car at all?”.

With a shake of his head Hotch is the one to reply “No. Coakley suffered from severe memory loss after the accident” not looking up from the file until Reid offers a fact about memory loss.

“Short-term retrograde amnesia is common after a significant accident or injury”.

Morgan chuckles as he speaks. “Yeah, think it’s safe to say he remembers it now though” and you stifle a laugh as you saw the unimpressed look Hotch was giving him.

“Do we have an address for Coakley?” Hotch asks, tone strict and stern.

Prentiss is the one to answer him “Garcia is working on it now” and just as she finishes her sentence, the unrecognisable voice of Penelope Garcia rattles through the speaker.

“The house the Coakley’s bought was foreclosed ten months after the accident, and I’ve tried to follow a paper trail, only there isn’t one” she informs you, her chirpy voice unwavering even when delivering bad news. “He cashed some insurance checks during a stay at a halfway house, but after that, zilch, nada, nothing”.

“Any relatives he could possibly be staying with?” Rossi asks, but sadly there’s nobody in the area for him to go to, meaning he’s either squatting, or staying off the radar and paying in cash to live somewhere.

“PG, what about his truck, what can you tell us about that?” you ask her, hoping this will lead you somewhere.

“Ah, there’s my pretty little Dr Paisley!” she exclaims and you laugh, trust Garcia to improve your mood when she’s miles and miles away. “He owns a 79’ Dodge D100, bought it used ten years ago”.

“He would’ve needed to rebuild it due to the extensive damage, several times now” Emily chimes in. “Can you work with that? Parts for such an old truck can’t be easy to come by”. You didn’t know a huge deal about cars, but you did know that much and nod along in agreement.

There’s quiet as you hear her furiously typing away at her computer. “I’m checking auto suppliers in the area, and yes! He’s having the parts shipped and delivered to an address through the use of a company called ‘Syd’s Auto”.

“Alright babygirl, but you know I need you to give me an address”.

“Derek Morgan, must you make me do all the work? Address is a house in Southwest Bend. Forwarded it to all your deceives, Garcia out.” She clicks off and you all spring into action, Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss head to the address in hopes that they can find Coakley before he sets out on another spree.

Back at the station, you get a call from Prentiss and put her on speaker. “Coakley’s gone, but local police are setting up a roadblock and a perimeter so we’ll be ready for him if he comes back this way”. She tells you and you throw down the papers you had in your hand, once again not realising that Hotch was behind you.

“What else do you have?” He asks, standing behind your shoulder.

You can hear Prentiss hand the phone over to Morgan who begins to explain. “We’ve got grills from a vehicle with blood still on them, and he’s been switching out plates on his truck. There are stacks of fake plates so we’ll need to revise the description of the truck that we put out to the media”.

Rossi’s voice comes through the phone once Morgan’s finished. “We’ve got hundreds of photos of the first two victims and there’s one photo we don’t recognize. It could be his next victim”.

You promptly hang up, leaving them to comb through the rest of the house and contact Garcia to run the registration plate of the man in the latest photos. Picking up the file that you had thrown down in annoyance, you turn to Hotch. “I’ll ask JJ to make a start on amending the description” you tell him and he nods in response and you can tell the case is beginning to take its toll. He’s not an overly conversational person at the best of times, but he’s even more reserved when the end of a case is so close. Garcia is eventually able to track down the man in the photos as Garret Burke and to nobody’s surprise, he owns a red convertible. Prentiss stayed back at the unsub’s house, still combing through evidence whilst JJ went to lend a hand. Meanwhile Morgan and Rossi raced to Garret Burke’s home address and managed to find out from his wife that he was on a bike ride with the local biking club and is able to give you the exact route: Prineville Reservoir Loop, which was about fifty miles from the house.

Practically throwing yourself into the SUV with Hotch and Detective Fulbert, your mind goes into overdrive thinking of all the possible outcomes of the chase, but you’re abruptly snapped out of it as Hotch makes a phone call to Rossi and Morgan, informing them of your location. “We’re heading South on Twenty. Hopefully we can hit Route Twenty-six before they pass by us. Give me an update”.

It’s Rossi who updates him of their whereabouts. “We’re on Route Twenty-Six, headed toward the reservoir. I think we’re halfway around the loop” Rossi tells you hurriedly through the phone. So far there’s no sign of him”.

Minutes after disconnecting the call form Rossi, Prentiss and JJ call through. “The car Coakley was driving on the night of the accident, was his wife’s” Prentiss informs you all.

“Are you sure?” Hotch questions her and she utters her certainty as the detective voices his confusion.

“So what does this mean?”

“I-”

“Maybe there wasn’t another car. Hotch, think about it.” Cutting him off, you continue to explain, making a mental note to apologize for it at some point later. “He keeps changing his targets, the make and model of the cars keep changing.

”Quickly catching your train of thought, Prentiss continues. “Because he knows they aren't right”.

Shifting in your seat you remember what the doctor at the rehab facility had told you. “His doctor called it ‘fluid memory’, but what if it was more than that?” you question out loud.

“So if it’s a single car accident, who’s fault was it?” the detective voices his question.

You and Hotch answer at the same time “Coakley” and you let him continue.

“He was coming back from Napa Valley and must have been driving too fast, going way over the speed limit, or fell asleep at the wheel, that’s a long drive”. He finishes and you can hear Prentiss agreeing over the phone.

Taking over, you continue to let your thoughts flow verbally. “ The truth of what happened will have proven too much for him to handle, he’s overwhelmed with guilt. He’s projecting blame” you state, looking across to Hotch for some reassurance in your ideas.

He senses your slight uncertainty in your theory due to the speed in which you made the connection, but he didn’t doubt you for a second. “ A red convertible did cause the accident, only he was driving it”. The call is disconnected and the rest of the drive is tense, the speed at which you’re travelling making things seem all the more on edge and you know the atmosphere will be the same in the other SUV. Rounding the corner of a small dirt path, all three of you spot the unsub’s truck accelerating toward the group of cyclists. Putting his foot to the floor, Hotch accelerates, driving forward at an even faster pace, shouting for you and Detective Fulbert to hold on and brace yourselves. Before you have time to even think about it, the SUV is colliding with the truck, more specifically your side of the SUV, most of the severe impact missing where you sat in the passenger seat. The force of the collision drives the two vehicles to a stop in some bushes slightly further onward and you can hear the two men in the car with you checking to see if you were okay as your door had taken some impact and was now forced shut and pain radiated through your side

.“Pais, Paisley, are you okay?” Hotch repeats over and over.

“Doc, are you hurt?” Fulbert asks you as he moves to help you from the backseat on the opposite side of the vehicle.

“I’m fine, just go. Go!” you insist, you could hear the revving of the unsub’s engine. He was still trying to find a way out and you knew the team needed to either talk him down, or put an end to what he was trying to do. They eventually exit the car and you can hear them coaxing Coakley down, trying to deescalate the situation as the other SUV arrives.

“You can’t keep blaming others for what you did, Coakley” you hear the detective tell him and then you’re not sure what happens, all you hear is three shots being fired and the truck’s engine revving before driving away and the SUV with Morgan and Rossi following, Hotch shouting at them to follow and not worry about the scene before them.

Running to your side of the SUV he speaks to you through the now shattered window. “I’m so sorry. Let’s get you out of here and to hospital”. He tells you and you wearily nod in agreement, your head was throbbing and the entirety of your side and one shoulder hurt like hell, but you doubted you had anything majorly wrong. Hotch accompanied you to the hospital, refusing to update you on the case until you’d been seen and properly treated. Luckily you hadn’t sustained any major injuries and were just given instructions on how to clean the decent sized cut on your right cheek that came dangerously close to the faint scars that laid there since you wouldn’t let anybody touch it. Eventually Hotch would ask you why, he saw how rigid your body became as a nurse moved to clean your face, you’d thrown yourself at killers, chased the most hardened criminals and yet you wouldn’t let somebody clean your face. He knew better than to ask, and decided to put it to the back of his mind, for now at least.

The journey back to the station was a quiet one, you didn’t realise how tired you were until your head rested on the side of the window and soon enough you were back in the station, helping take down all the resources in the conference room as Detective Fulbert spoke from the doorway behind you. “I don’t know about you, but that’s not how I thought this one would end”.

You’d been informed that the unsub had finally come to the realisation that he had in fact been the one driving when his wife was killed, and couldn’t cope with the truth, the guilt overwhelming him and drove off the edge of a cliff before anybody had the chance to do anything. It was a sad ending to the case and definitely not the outcome anybody had hoped for. “No, but at the end of the day he made a choice and unfortunately there’s nothing we can do now”.

“How is it that you’re so young and yet you act so far beyond your years?”. He questions light-heartedly.

“This job forces you to grow up fast, you get used to it.”. You bid him goodbye, promising that if you’re ever in Bend again, you’d take him up on his offer of going for a drink, you knew the chances were unlikely, so you didn’t see the harm in agreeing. As you finish packing up the last few boxes, you see JJ talking to the man that thought he caused the unsub’s accident, thus starting the killings, but now the case was over, the team knew this wasn’t true and he deserved to know that he had nothing to do with what had happened.

Linking your arm with hers as you exit the station you tell her “I saw what you did, for Mr Bonner. He’ll appreciate that for the rest of his life, the guilt was eating him alive and you put a stop to that. Now let’s go home. Speaking of home, when are we going to see yours and Emily’s new place?” you ask her, choosing to ignore your slight discomfort and focus on the positives and you can’t help but feel a slight weight lift from your chest as JJ rambles excitedly about their new apartment, promising to have you all over when they’ve decorated and you soon find yourselves ready to fly home.

As soon as you board the jet, you’re immediately smothered in a hug from Morgan. “Pretty girl, you good?” he asks you, a serious tone to his voice, any hint of a joke gone.

Wincing slightly, still aching from the crash you pull away. “All good, hot stuff, just tired”. You tell him, waving off everybody’s concerns as you slide into your usual chair, wanting nothing more than to curl up and go to sleep. Eventually a quiet calm settles over the jet and getting comfortable in your seat, you put your headphones in and let the soothing music lull you into a gentle slumber, unaware of one particular unit chief watching protectively over your sleeping form, thinking back to the last night in the hotel room. ‘I don’t tell the team everything you know; got to keep some of my mysterious nature’ and so he began to wonder what mysteries you could possibly be hiding.

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opheliacassiopea · 4 years ago

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CHAPTER 8***.

TW: Typical case briefing, mature language, mentions of weapons, a stalker, significant injury, blood/gore and murder/death. Case based off 4x23.

TW: Smut; Oral (male and female receiving), fingering, a little bit of overstimulation, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it,kids) spanking, swearing, daddy kink, hair pulling, biting. This is yet another reminder that there is an age gap.

Just as you were making your way back to the conference room, stacks of paper in hand, you felt someone grab at your elbow, pulling you to the side of the hallway. Turning to face whoever it was, you let out a sigh of relief knowing that it wasn’t Hotch ready with another string of petty comments and reproachful looks.

“Look I know this might be a bit forward, but I was wondering if you’d maybe want to get a drink with me sometime?”

“Things are quite hectic with the case right now, but how about we settle for a rain-check, Detective Fulbert?”

“I had a feeling you’d say that, but yeah a rain-check sounds good to me, and please” he pauses and places a hand on your shoulder, “call me Liam”.

“Alright then Liam, are you ready to listen to this profile?”. After a long session of bouncing various theories and ideas off one another, Hotch decided that the team was ready to give a profile. Reid had made it significantly easier by noticing the unsub’s preference for targeting red convertibles and it was from that point onward that everything had finally started to come together.

Seeing you walk into the squad room with Detective Fulbert, or Liam, as he insisted you called him, you see four of your team members share a look amongst each other, before turning back to you, smug looks written on all their faces. “So come on, tell us, what did you tell him, yes or no?” Prentiss enquires, nudging your side, teasing glint in her eyes.

“Told him I’d rain-check” you mumbled, you really didn’t want to have this conversation, at least not right now when Hotch was in a foul mood and you were all minutes away from delivering the profile.

Morgan looked at you, eyebrows raised, a smug look written all over his face. “I think you owe me money, Prentiss”

“Alright, fine, fine” she huffs out in response, fishing the money out of her pocket, sighing as she reluctantly handed it over.

“Only five dollars, Em? I bet ten so pay up” JJ tells her, smile evident in her voice.

“And just what are we placing bets on?” Rossi queries as he leans over between the two of them to get a better look at the money exchanging hands.

“Nothing you need to worry about” you reply hastily, wanting the topic of conversation to change to literally anything but the encounter you’d just had. It wasn’t that being asked on a date was a bad thing, it just wasn’t what you were looking for. Yes Liam was attractive, but he just wasn’t doing it for you, something was missing. In short, he wasn’t Hotch.

“Fulbert asked her on a date. We all bet on if she’d say yes or not.” Reid informs him and you can Rossi him smile in realisation, making a show of shaking his head at the ridiculous antics.

Upon hearing someone clearing their throat behind you, you turn around and are met with a stony faced Hotch staring back at you. Yet again he had appeared out of nowhere, unannounced. Internally bracing yourself for a reprimand, you were surprised when you didn’t receive one.

“Once you’ve all finished placing bets on Selwyn’s dating life, we have a job to do and a profile to deliver.” Hotch’s clipped tone cuts through the room, putting the light-hearted conversation to an abrupt end, marching away from the group toward where the team would be giving the profile. Exchanging looks with the rest of your team, you all begin to follow Hotch over to where you’d be giving the profile and choose to stand as far away from him as possible, putting some distance between the both of you, you’d clearly pissed him off for some reason and didn’t want to be near him when he was in such a foul mood.

“We believe we’re looking for a white man in his early forties, who may have sustained a serious injury in an automobile accident. It’s worth taking note of the fact that this unsub is possibly ex-military”. Hotch starts.

Pushing herself up from the table, Emily takes over “this car accident will have taken place along route seven, which is where he finds his victims and we’ve compiled a list of local rehabilitation facilities that he may have visited during his recovery. Use the profile as you canvas these places”.

“This is why our unsub goes after red convertibles, he’s holding the drivers of these cars responsible for his accident, using them as a surrogate to inflict his rage upon without actually having to interact with them. Essentially, he’s trying to take revenge” you say as you move to stand beside her.

“There's a box of five years worth of accident reports on route seven, between Bend and Eugene, we need everybody who can be spared to look through them. If we can pinpoint the accident, we can find our unsub.” Reid continues, gesturing with his hands as he speaks.

“Though only owners of red convertibles are the only targets at this point, we’re asking the public to be vigilant on the road. This profile is being released to the national media with a photo and description of the truck. It’s imperative you memorise the description and the rest of the information we’ve given you” JJ addresses the room and after a few minutes, the profile has been delivered and along with the rest of your team and some of the local officers, you begin the process of filtering through years and years worth of accident reports and rehabilitation facilities.

The hours pass slowly as you bury yourself in paperwork, smiling thankfully at Morgan who places a hot cup of tea in front of you before returning to the stack of files he was working on, eventually he breaks the silence “you got anything, pretty girl?”

Eyes not leaving the paper you’re reading, you reply to him with a shake of your head “not really no, few possibles maybe, but nothing concrete”. He’s about to reply, probably to tell you that he’s having the same luck when JJ informs you that a member of the public had come up with some relevant information.

“Selwyn and I will take it, give this paperwork a break for now” Morgan decides, taking the file from your hands and pulling you up and out of the uncomfortable chair you were currently sitting in. You were glad for the opportunity to take a break from paperwork, and also to get away from Hotch who’s bad mood had gotten so significantly worse that it had started to drag you down.

“Agent Morgan and Dr Selwyn. You have some information for us?” Morgan greets the man, who is undoubtedly nervous and somewhat panic stricken, you can see it written all over his face.

“I-yeah. I saw your statement on the news and I think I caused the accident you guys were talking about”. You can see that this is difficult for him and that he’s doing his best to keep it together.

Sharing a brief look with Morgan, you press the issue further “and what makes you say that?”.

“I was coming back from Eugene, it was late and I’d spent all day there. My mom, she was sick and I just wanted to get back home and see my little girl, I shouldn’t have even been driving.” his voice starts to break and you push him to continue.

“It was darker than normal and my phone..it started to ring so I went to reach for it and I knocked it off the seat by accident and it fell down by the door. I..I thought I could reach it”

“So you took your eyes off the road?” Morgan asks him.

“It was just seconds, it couldn’t have been longer than just a few seconds. When I looked back up, all I could see were bright lights and the horn was blasting and so I swerved at the last second and I..I just kept on going”. He’s visibly crying now, tears streaming down his face as he faced the reality of what he’d done.

“You’d gone into the oncoming lane? Did you see what happened to the other vehicle, the other driver?” you ask, though you had a feeling that you already knew the answer.

“It was in my rear-view mirror, and then it was just gone”.

There was a moment of silence and Morgan is the one to break it. “Why didn’t you stop?”.

“Didn’t feel real”

“You pretended it didn’t happen?”

“I thought that if I told myself that it didn’t for so long that I started to believe it”

The conversation carries on for a little while longer and you’re able to deduce that the vehicle was in fact the truck the team had been looking for and that the accident happened in December, 2007. After you and Morgan thanked the man you started relaying the information to the team, Hotch refusing to meet your eyes the entire time.

“There were no accidents reported in December of 2007.” Reid informs the group with an uneasy look on his face.

“Okay so maybe he got his dates wrong. Morgan, you mentioned that he said his mother was sick for five months and then passed in January, maybe we can use that to pinpoint the exact date?” Rossi suggests.

“After repressing the memory for such a long time, it’s possible that the details of the accident have changed, become distant.” Reid imposes, looking through yet more paperwork and you let out a sigh, moving to open the next stack of files in an effort to find the accident report in question. Time runs away from you as you read through file after file and your mouth practically waters at the sight of the burgers the Morgan brings for the five of you; Hotch and Rossi had gone back to the hotel hours ago and you’d decided to stay put and make yourself useful. Plus, hanging back at the station meant you could avoid the inevitable awkwardness of sharing the hotel room with a very pissed off Hotch.

Soon after you all decided to call it tonight and as you drove back to the hotel, you began to feel a slight sense of dread in the pit of your stomach. You knew it would be awkward from the moment you stepped into the room and you weren’t particularly looking forward to being confronted by your boss. Things seemed so different than they did this morning, you’d woken up in his embrace and now he could barely look in your direction and so you’d planned on finishing the copy of Wuthering Heights you’d brought with you, not wanting to look over more files from the case. Bidding the others a goodnight, you headed to your room, taking a deep breath as you opened the door. Deciding to not bother with a greeting for Hotch who was sat at the small table facing the wall, you emptied your pockets and put away your gun and were about to head to the bathroom to take off your makeup when he spoke up.

“I’m surprised you’re not out with Fulbert”.

“I’m sorry?”

He stood and turned to you, speaking in a flat tone. “You heard me”.

“I know I did, I’m just sorry that you’re too immature to speak to me when you have a problem”. You replied, tone matching his equally.

His jaw clenched. “I don’t have a problem, I would just appreciate it if you would focus on the case, rather than getting comfortable with the local officers”.

“You don’t have a problem with anybody else on the team ‘getting comfortable’ with other officers, so what’s so different now? And for your information, that’s not what I was doing. I had one very small, very harmless conversation with Liam and I never once had the intention of going on that date anyway. Not that it’s any of your business, Sir”. You emphasise the last word, anger rising in your chest as you do so.

“Liam? You’re on first name terms, how..sweet”. If he wasn’t your boss, you might have punched him, how could he have the audacity to say such a thing? You could handle him being angry at you, but mocking you was an entirely different story.

Taking a step closer to him, you reply. “What is your problem? You say you don’t have one, but you very clearly do. Your jaw is clenched and don’t think I didn’t see it in the conference room earlier today either. So why don’t you stop playing games and tell me what this is about”. Pausing briefly as a sudden wave of realisation hits you. “You’re jealous. You’re jealous aren’t you?”

“Stop”. His tone is flat, demanding, but you carry on, you’d already gone this far so you may as well carry on.

“You’re jealous that somebody else might actually want to spend time with me. Somebody who would go further than you ever would”.

“I said, stop”.

Ignoring him, you carried on. You wanted to hear him say it and you were clearly on the right track. “Who’d have thought it, Aaron Hotchner, jealous over-”.

You’re promptly cut off by him crossing the small gap between you, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. He stands still for what feels like minutes, but in reality it’s only a few seconds. “I told you to stop. Do you need to be told again, or do I need to do something about it?”.

“I don’t know, do you?”. You’re too caught up in the moment to think of anything else, trying not to show your eagerness.

Taking your words as his signal, he presses his lips to yours and kisses you roughly, his hands running up and down your body as he does. You almost cry out as he bites your bottom lip, he’s only kissed you once and you already feel like you’re on fire.

“Are you okay with this? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable”. He asks you as he pulls back, concern present in his honey coloured eyes.

You nod, “Yeah, I’m good” and you’re met with him kissing you again in response. It’s passionate, it’s hungry, it’s hot and you don’t even notice him pulling his trousers down before he’s pushing you to your knees as his trousers hit the floor.

“Good. Now get on your knees”.

Grabbing a fistful of your hair, he pulls you forward and you immediately open your mouth, moaning loudly as he fills you. Wasting no time, he shoves himself right to the back of your throat, and in the moment you’re never been so thankful for the fact that you don’t have a gag reflex.

“I told you that mouth of yours would get you into trouble one day, didn’t I?”. He groans, tightening his grip in your hair as he speaks, thrusting further into your mouth. You can only moan in response, he feels incredible and you can’t help but wonder what the rest of the night will hold.

Running your tongue along the underside of his dick, bobbing your head up and down as you do, he cries out. “You look so pretty with your mouth wrapped around my cock”. His words spur you on as you focus on the tip which elicits another guttural moan from him, bucking his hips as he moans. Speeding up your movements, you felt him twitch in your mouth and you knew he was close. Looking up at him through your lashes, you notice that his eyes have completely darkened with pleasure and moments later he reaches his release, moaning deeply as he cums inside your mouth, throwing back his head in ecstasy as you swallow.

Helping you to your feet, he kisses you again and backs you into the wall and begins to trace his hand up your thigh and you’re thankful that you chose to wear a dress that day. Sliding your pants aside, he pushes a finger inside of you, earning a loud moan from you in return. He adds another and you buck your hips in response. He feels good, much better than you ever could’ve imagined and he’s soon adding a third finger and you can’t help but cry out. “Fuck you feel good”. His movements suddenly come to a stop and before you can question what he’s doing, he speaks up, commanding you to strip for him and you comply, putting on a show as you watch his eyes become dark with lust as he drinks in the sight of your naked figure. As soon as your clothes hit the floor, his mouth is upon yours again as you both fight for dominance.

“God you’re so beautiful” he whispers against your lips as he runs his hands over your hardened nipples, thumbs playing with the silver piercings. Maintaining eye contact with you, he takes your breast into his mouth and teases you with his tongue and you don’t even bother to muffle your moans as he slips his fingers deep inside of you once more at a relentless pace. He rubs his thumb against your clit, adding to the already immense pleasure shooting through your body.

You cry out yet again, “I’m so close, fuck, I’m gonna come” you tell him and you can feel him smirk up against you, not stopping his movements and you’re soon pushed over the edge as he bites softly on your nipple, a string of cures leaving your mouth as you chase your high. Copying your earlier movements, he sinks to his knees. “What are you-” you begin to ask, but he promptly cuts you off.

“Shh, let me take care of you” and you don’t protest as he starts leaving a trail of kisses along your thighs as he inches toward your core, biting and sucking, leaving marks as he goes. He takes his time, putting his mouth to use everywhere but where you needed him most.

Between your breathy moans you manage to utter out “please. I need you”. He suddenly pulls away from you and stands up straight, his gaze never leaving yours as he takes off his shirt. Seeing you so desperate for him turned him on even more and knew that he needed to be inside of you. Once he’d discarded his shirt, you waste no time in kissing him frantically as he picks you up, carrying you toward the bed. Before taking it any further he sets you down and looks you straight in the eye before asking “Are you sure you want this? Have you-?”

“Done this before? Yes, I have. And yes, yes, I want this; I’m on the pill so you don’t need to worry”. You tell him, giving your full consent along with a sweet kiss, which he starts to return and then suddenly breaks away from.

“No, you’ve been with immature boys who don’t know what they’re doing. I’m going to show you what it’s like to be fucked by a man” he tells you, a slight note of jealousy to his voice and you can already feel your arousal growing. Placing a harsh kiss to you mouth, he pulls away and promptly spins you away from him, pushing you face first onto the bed, manoeuvring you so your face is turned to the side and your hips turned up in the air.

He places one of his hands on your waist, using the other to line himself up with your entrance and you both moan loudly as you push back against him, taking him deeper inside of you as you pleasure yourself on his dick. “Look at you, so needy for me to fuck you” he spits out, he loved it, he loved seeing you come undone at his touch and it was becoming increasingly hard for him not to thrust foward, the feeling of you clenching around him was like nothing he’d felt before.

You can barely form a response, already overwhelmed with pleasure. “Y-Yes” you breathlessly moan and that’s all the encouragement he needs to start bucking his hips to meet yours, bringing a hand to your backside and you gasp at the sensation. “Harder please” you whine, your head was spinning with pleasure and you knew you were already close. He was stretching you out with every movement and you’d never felt this good.

“No, I want to hear you beg. Do you think that detective could fuck you like this?” He asks, slowing his thrusts, taking his time on purpose and you knew he was speaking from a place of jealousy, possibly even anger.

“Fuck. N-No”. The slow pace of his thrusts were torture, sweet pleasurable torture, but torture nonetheless and you were coming more and more undone as it went on. Shuffling back to create some friction you so desperately needed, he grabbed your waist even tighter to stop you from moving and the thought of him leaving bruises turns you on even more.

“You’re going to have to do better than that if you want to come” he growls and you can hear the dominance radiating off him which only heightens your need for release as you grow wetter listening to his each and every word.

“Please. Harder, Daddy”. You hadn’t even realised the phrase had slipped from your lips, you were so caught up in your need for your release that it wasn’t until he stopped moving all together and you immediately noticed the change in his demeaner.

“Say it again” he commands as he pulls you up by your hair so your head is next to his. There’s a primal need to his voice and you obey instantly, feeling the familiar pit in the bottom of your stomach grow in intensity.

“Daddy, please. Harder”. He grabs your hips, slamming into you at a relentless pace and you fall even further into the bed, bedspread muffling your moans. Leaning down and pulling you up by your hair for the second time, he sinks his teeth into your shoulder then soothes the area over with sloppy kisses. The moan you let out is sinful as you clench around him, almost nearing your high.

“You’re close aren’t you?” He asks, propping his foot up on the bed to fuck you at a deeper angle. “Fuck. That’s right, take it”. He growls as he starts to chase his own high. He loved this position, seeing you take him so well, nothing but cries of pleasure coming from your mouth.

It only takes a few more thrusts before you’re sent over the edge, crying out and moaning as you do, gripping the covers even harder than before with your head thrown back in sheer bliss. Moving back and forth to meet Hotch’s relentless pace, you’re vaguely aware of him speaking, too caught up in the aftershock of your first orgasm. “Fuck, I’m close, I’m going to come” he rasps out, he too is overwhelmed with pleasure and hearing his voice so strained with euphoria, almost sends you over the edge again as you call out to him.

“Daddy, come inside of me, please”. The desperation in your voice is obvious, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, you needed to feel him inside of you, overstimulation driving your behaviour.

“Look at you, begging me to fill you up. Such a good girl” he purrs, sending you to another orgasm with his briefly following, the two of you moaning loudly as you both reach your highs.

Out of sheer exhaustion, you both collapse onto the bed and you reach for your panamas, but Hotch stops you and helps you into them, pressing a chaste kiss to your hairline before he slips into his pyjamas. You had to hide the ever growing smile that was on your face, you’d undoubtedly just had the best sex of your life and it just happened to be with the man you’d been harbouring a slight crush on for the past year.

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you did I, do you need anything?” he asks you, worry showing all over his face and you can’t help but admire him, always concerned for others before himself.

Shaking your head, you smile in return. “No, you didn’t. Honestly I’m fine, stop worrying” you tell him, standing up from the bed, legs giving out ever so slightly as you make your way to the bathroom to clean yourself up and get ready for bed. When you return to the bedroom, you notice the bed had been remade and a bottle of water rested on your bedside table and you gratefully take a sip before climbing under the sheets.

You were expecting a sudden wave of awkwardness to come over the both of you, but it never arrived and as you close your eyes, you feel Hotch pull you closer, tracing your tattoos ever so lightly, almost afraid that he’ll wipe them away and it brings a smile to your lips. The gentleness he was exhibiting as he followed the many patterns on your arms felt more intimate than the sex you’d just had and you relished in the very thought of it. “I didn’t realise you had a tattoo on your back” he hums, breaking the comfortable silence that you both lay in. The tattoo in question was a fairly small, but elaborate tarot card design of a sun and moon, surrounded by your favourite astrological constellation.

“I don’t tell the team everything you know; got to keep some of my mysterious nature”. You were fairly open with the team, but some things were better left unsaid. They knew you weren’t giving them the full story, always changing the subject when somebody asked about your family, how you got the three faint scars on your cheek, always giving vague answers that left no room for questions, but they didn’t push the matter in fear that they’d push you away.

Pressing light kisses to your forehead he whispers “Of course you do, I like it, but I think the ones on your collarbones are my favourite''. Biting your lip to keep you from smiling like a fool, you simply kiss him softly in return, you didn’t think he’d ever paid that much attention to you, or more specifically the artwork that graced your body. Cupping your face, he looks straight at you. “Pais, I’m sorry, about before, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you I-”

You cut him off before he has the chance to finish. “You’re already forgiven”. A wave of tiredness had suddenly washed over you, plus, you knew that if he carried on with an explanation, it would lead to having the inevitable conversation about what had happened between you, and you weren’t ready for that. You weren’t ready for the complications that would inevitably come from sleeping with your boss, so instead you decided to do the one thing you craved the most;

falling asleep in the comfort of Aaron Hotchner’s arms. So that’s exactly what you did, quietly bidding him goodnight, you turn away from him, feeling his arm wrap around your waist, slightly tighter than the previous morning and the last thing he does before sleep consumes him, is press a featherlight kiss to the side of your head, smiling down at you as he does.

A/N: Not sure about this chapter. First time writing smut (lol) so it’s not the greatest, but hopefully it’ll get better over time! Let me know what you think!🖤

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opheliacassiopea · 4 years ago

Text

CHAPTER 7.

TW: Typical case briefing, mature language, mentions of weapons, a stalker, significant injury, blood/gore and murder/death. Case based off 4x23.

“In the last twelve days two women have been killed by the use of a vehicle in Bend, Oregon. Local police have asked for our help. The first victim, Maria Delgado, twenty three, was hit during her morning jog and the second victim was a stranded motorist, Shannon Makely, forty three years old.” JJ informs you all as she gestures to the monitor behind her.

Hotch takes over from her, relaying more information, “both women were driven back over after the initial hit and the treads at both scenes match, indicating large wheels and a raised bumper, so they’re thinking either a large SUV or truck. Unfortunately, the tires aren’t factory issue so they could be on a number of different models”.

“No witnesses to either one of the killings? A hit and run is typically loud due to the large amount of force, somebody usually hears or sees something.” Reid chimes in, not looking up from the case file as he commits it to memory.

JJ shakes her head “both victims were attacked in remote locations”

“Two tons of metal would make a hell of a weapon, it wouldn't be hard to pick it out of a line-up with that kind of damage” Morgan adds as he looks over the recent crime scene photos.

“Thrill kills perhaps? It’s opportunistic and easy; he’s got randomly selected targets in a secluded location.” you suggest, placing the case file down and you see the others nodding in approval.

You’d worked your fair share of cases, but this was the first you’d seen with a vehicle being used as the weapon so you wanted to sit on your inner musings for slightly longer than usual before you voiced them. The jet hasn’t even been in the air for ten minutes before the briefing continues.

“Back at the round table you said ‘he’s got randomly selected targets’, what makes you think we’re looking at a male here, Doc?” JJ asks you once you’re on the jet.

“Well given what we know about road rage and dangerous driving, it’s safe to assume so. The biggest indicator being that the vehicle in question is of a larger size, which is quite the phallic symbol”.

“So what..he’s compensating?”

Reid speaks up, offering an alternative point of view, “or overcompensating potentially he could be impotent. If the unsub sees himself as physically defective, the car would give him a certain amount of power, whilst also using it as a shield”.

“So he avoids physical contact” Rossi offers, looking toward Hotch for some direction.

“Where are we with victimology, what does that tell us?”

Unfortunately, the victimology didn’t reveal all that much, the only link between the two victims was their gender, but you were all hopeful you could learn something from the two crime scenes. Hotch instructed you to accompany Morgan and Rossi to visit the latest crime scene, whilst he and Prentiss would attend the site of the first attack, leaving JJ and Reid to head straight to the local precinct to set up. After walking through the site of the attack and doing a general sweep of the area looking for any missed evidence or signs of foul play, you headed back to the precinct with Rossi and Morgan to discuss the initial findings from the scene, but not before swinging by a local cafe to pick up hot drinks for the team; police station coffee, or tea in your case was nearly always nasty, especially after an early start that morning.

“What did you gather from the most recent crime scene?” Hotch questions as the three of you walk into the conference room, he and the rest of the team stood around the pin board as they looked over maps, case notes and photos, writing down any workable theories. As Morgan hands out the freshly made coffee, you can practically see their eyes light up which elicits a soft chuckle from you as you pick up your own drink.

“She left the car, presumably to call for help and that’s when he hit her. Made a complete stop before fully accelerating and then backing over her” Rossi informs the group before taking a sip of his coffee.

“Selwyn, did you manage to get anything else?” Hotch asks you

“Actually yeah I was think-”

“This must be the rest of your team, Agent Hotchner” a younger looking detective interrupts and he’s actually quite attractive you come to realise, but not in the same way as Hotch, more conventionally so. You scold yourself; you’re working a case, this isn’t the time. You can tell Hotch isn’t best impressed with the interruption, in fact everybody can, you didn’t even have to look at him to work it out.

“Yes. Detective Fulbert, these are Agents Rossi, Morgan and Dr Selwyn.”

He moves to shake hands with the three of you, keeping your hand in his grip for just a few moments longer than necessary. “Nice to meet you, Agent” he greets you, brown eyes shining and a smile on his face.

“Um, it’s actually doctor, but don’t worry about it and likewise, shame about the circumstances though” you respond, hoping he’ll take the subtle hint and get back to the case at hand.

“Shoulda’ known, you seem like an impressive lady” he flirts, winking at you in the process as he backs away to watch from the other side of the room, you pay no mind to the comment and flash a small smile in return.

“Selwyn, what did you get from the most recent crime scene?” Hotch asks, redirecting the focus onto the case, ignoring the detective's remark.

“I was just thinking about the location of the breakdown. It just seems too much of a coincidence that it happened in that particular spot. No oncoming traffic at that time of day, which leaves us with no witnesses and then she’s left with nowhere to run and hide for safety along with no phone signal to call for help”. Pulling out a pen and circling one particular area on one of Reid’s many maps, you continue explaining. “It’s the perfect place for an ambush, that’s no coincidence” you finish, spinning back to face the table.

“She’s right, it’s deliberate. What did you guys manage to get from the crime scene?” Morgan asks as he looks through the photos of the initial crime scene that Hotch and Prentiss had visited.

After taking a long sip from her coffee, Prentiss responds “Similar story, the hiking path she took as her jogging route wasn’t that popular and is incredibly secluded, which made it the ideal spot for an attack, only difference being that there was oil left on the dirt tracks at the scene, which meant he was lying in wait for her”.

“So you’re saying that it wasn’t a random attack.” JJ asks, looking round at the rest of you.

“So if he is targeting specific women that would mean he’s not doing this for the thrill. The fact that he was lying in wait and knew the victims personal routines suggests he knows them, this type of stalking behaviour has a personal depth to it.” Reid interjects.

Moving from his position at the other end of the room the detective speaks up “how did he know about Shannon Makely, how did he know her car would break down?”

“Did crime techs take a look at her car?” Rossi questions him

“Guys said the water pump blew, which isn’t anything uncommon, but I’ll get them to take a second look”.

“Sorry to interrupt guys, Shannon Makely’s husband is here” JJ informs you and all share a mournful look, this was one of the shortcomings of the job, talking to victim’s families and asking them questions that nobody should ever have to answer. “Who do you want in there?” she asks, eyeing Hotch as she waits for a response.

“Selwyn and I can handle it, thanks JJ. You good with that?” he queries and you nodded in response, there was no point in shying away from it and as much as you wish it didn’t, it came with the job. Throughout the entire meeting Mr Makely was wiping tears away from his eyes as he answered questions about his wife. It wasn’t proving to be very fruitful until he was able to recall a large truck parked slightly further on from the house during the week.

Hotch presses him for any extra information “Could you see anyone inside?”

“No, well, I couldn’t tell, the windows were blacked out, but not just on a couple, all of them were covered up” he reveals, wiping at his tears as they continued to fall.

“Do you think you’d be able to recognize the same truck if you saw it again?” you ask, keeping your voice soft, you knew how hard these questions were, even if they only called for one word answers, they were draining. By the time the two of you had finished up with Mr Makely, Detective Fulbert was able to tell you that the victim’s car had in fact been tampered with, which didn’t really come as a surprise given what you’d come to find out from the victim’s husband.

Whilst the rest of the team were out looking into potential leads, you had spent the majority of the afternoon reading and rereading the initial profile and police reports, trying to gain an understanding of the murders. Just as you were thinking of asking Reid for his input, you had a sudden brainwave. By sabotaging Sarah Makely’s car, the unsub had isolated her, proving him to be more focused than you’d first profiled him to be, he was highly motivated and highly organised, but for what? The two victims had no connection, other than being targeted. This unsub didn’t hunt a specific type of victim, meaning that there must have been some sort of contact before the murders. This contradicted the team’s initial idea that he would shy away from any contact, yet you were looking at two victims who had no idea that they’d triggered something for the unsub and it was most likely something as trivial as hair colour, or the way they’d spoken to him.

After alerting the team about your thought process, you decided to head back to the hotel early, you were exhausted and didn’t think you’d be much use for the last remaining hour of the day and with Hotch’s permission, you’d decided to call it a night. Throwing on you oversized shirt that acted as your pajamas, you ordered yourself some room service, as you wondered how you were able to get away with your more casual style at work, considering that most of the team always looked sharp in their professional workwear, and you came to the conclusion that

Hotch probably had something to do with it. Not that you were complaining, you’d take smart casual and comfy any day of the week. Watching Grey's Anatomy as you ate, you wondered about the progress the rest of the team had made, hoping that they’d been able to find a new lead of some sort.

Sprawling yourself out on the sofa, you decide to read through yet more paperwork for the case, you were starting to feel slightly guilty for leaving the precinct early and wanted to make sure you hadn’t missed anything obvious. You set yourself to work, listening to your classical music playlist as you went. Music had always interested you, your love for playing the piano manifesting itself through your tell that Hotch had so kindly pointed out to you all those months ago. Taking note of anything that might prove useful and by pulling up old case reports of similar crimes, you find yourself coming up with possible theories as you worked late into the night.

One of the last things Aaron Hotchner expected to see when he walked into his hotel room that night was you, fast asleep laying across the sofa, covered in paperwork, wearing nothing but an oversized shirt and your underwear. Despite his confusion, he smiled at the sight before him, he knew the team would be doubling up at the hotel, and just assumed you’d share with one of the others. Setting down his go bag and briefcase, he quickly got himself ready for bed and crossed the room to you, freeing you from all the papers you’d dropped onto yourself as you fell into a slumber. He looked over your features as he gently picked you up and placed you softly on the bed, before rounding to the other side and slipping under the covers. Even in your sleep, you were beautiful, not that he would ever tell you that though.

His mind was normally consumed with thoughts of a case before he fell asleep, but tonight it was you. You plagued his every thought; the way you twisted one strand of your hair through your fingers when you were overcome with your thoughts, the way you tilted your head back as you laughed, accentuating your features, and how you were able to make him feel so at peace whilst simultaneously making him feel alive. Was it a coincidence that he’d walked into the room as your favourite piece of music was playing? ‘Comptine d`un autre été - l'après-midi’. You’d mentioned it during one of the many times he’d sat at your desk, only he’d failed to mention that it was his favourite too. Thoughts of you floating through his mind, he drifted into a peaceful sleep.

The next morning, you had awoken to find Hotch’s arm wrapped loosely around your waist. Under any other circumstance, you would have been thrilled to wake up like this, but you were slightly confused, why was he in your hotel room? Then it dawned on you, somebody had mentioned doubling up as you were on your way out of the precinct, but you were just too tired to care, only nodding along so you could leave sooner. It was a comforting feeling, having his arm thrown haphazardly over your waist and you lay there for a few extra moments, basking in the serenity that his touch brought you. Slowly, you began to disentangle yourself from his hold as you slipped out of the covers and headed to the bathroom to get up and ready for the day. As you rinse the shampoo out of your hair, you turn your thoughts to the day ahead, you knew there was still a lot of work to be done on the case and you could only hope that the team had managed to come up with something substantial during your absence last night.

Upon finishing getting ready, you exited the bathroom and were promptly met with the sight of Hotch standing in the middle of the room with two mugs, offering one to you with a sheepish grin on his face. Hearing his morning voice as he bid you a good morning and seeing him in just a white t-shirt and shorts with unkempt hair nearly sent you over the edge. How somebody could look so good first thing in the morning was a mystery to you, but then again, he looked good no matter what he did. Catching you staring, he raises an eyebrow ever so slightly as he speaks.

“I got you a tea, I know you can’t start your mornings without one”

“Thanks, bathroom’s yours to use if you want it” you inform him with an appreciative smile as he finishes his coffee before telling you he’ll be ready to leave in ten minutes. Left to your own devices, you start clearing the small amount of mess that had accumulated around the small hotel room as a result of your late night study session when you were suddenly hit with the realisation that you had fallen asleep on the sofa, not in bed. Panicking slightly about the fact that your boss must have seen you in nothing but your pajamas as he moved you into the large hotel bed, you wondered if you should thank him, surely that would be the polite thing to do, but deciding you wanted to avoid any awkwardness after you had woken up in his embrace, you opted against it. True to his word, Hotch emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later and the two of you left for the precinct.

During your brief absence, the team had managed to figure out that the vehicle in question was an older, American made model that had been stripped of any identifying features so it couldn’t be readily identified, and the local police department had started combing through their records to see if there were any matches in the system. One everybody was present, you all began to build on the profile as you all sat round one of the larger tables in the conference room, fresh hot drinks in hand.

“Clearly he’s mechanically inclined, he knows his way around an engine if he was able to tamper with the second victim’s car” Reid begins as he starts the discussion.

Prentiss nods along agreement before adding, “physically strong too if he can pull a dent, he’s fixing the body of the truck to hide the damage and avoid suspicion”.

Throwing his empty coffee cup in the bin, Rossi takes over “both women were killed during the hours of a typical working day, meaning he either has a flexible schedule, or he’s unemployed. Stalking somebody, getting to know them, their routines, it’s a pretty serious time commitment”.

“Statistically, eight percent of this state is unemployed so job loss would be a classic stressor” Reid chimes in, flipping his case file closed as he does so.

Hotch stands up from the table whilst announcing “we need to look for men who are employed in any area of the motor industry; mechanics, body shops. It’s worth looking at those with criminal records for reckless driving and assault”.

“Two murders within two weeks isn’t much of a cooling off period, he probably won’t wait for another opportunity to come by, he’ll seek it out, create one for himself”. You pipe up, looking over toward Morgan who had been quieter than usual and wondered if you had missed something.

It’s a few hours later when JJ gets the call and announces that there’s been another killing. This time the victim is a male, Victor Costella. He’d been found in the car park of the building he worked in and the sight you were met with was gruesome.

“The impact nearly cut him in two, he ran down a level to get away. The initial collision was up on the higher floor” Detective Fulbert informs you all on the scene.

“Look at this, it’s a reserved spot, the unsub knew that he’d park here and have to return to his car at some point, meaning he would've gotten here early and sat in wait” Reid speaks up as he points to the sign mounted to the wall that indicated the victim’s private parking spot.

“Anybody see anything, hear anything, detective?”

Nodding twice and looking down at his notebook, he answers “for once yeah, an x-ray tech who noticed a truck here when she arrived, said the window was cracked open and whoever was inside was smoking”

“Your crime techs manage to get any cigarette butts with viable DNA we can use?” Rossi questions thoughtfully as he walks over to the pile of cigarette ends on the floor, taking a closer look before speaking again “he’s field-stripped them”.

Speaking up with another fact, Reid jumps in “this type of technique is taught to soldiers to avoid leaving traces in the field”.

“Detective get this run through DNA, if he’s in the military, we may be able to get a hit.” Rossi instructs. This was a time critical case, so the faster the results came through, the better. Shortly after looking over the newest crime scene, the team found themselves back at the precinct going over and adding to the profile. You had just finished going over the geographical markers on one of the local maps when you felt a presence next to you and as you looked up, you were faced with Detective Fulbert.

“I was right yesterday when I said you were impressive, you predicted that he wouldn’t wait long before killing again. That profiling you do does have some stock to it after all” he tells you, his tone flirty and light.

Chuckling at him in response you reply, “not especially, but thank you, realistically profiling is just the study of human behavioural patterns. It’s quite simple really”.

“I’m not so sure you know, your team makes it look very impressive, well you make it look impressive”.

“I think you’d be up to the challenge somehow, Detective” you tell him, throwing him a wink as you do.

“Do I need to remind you that we’re here on a case, Selwyn? You’re not here to recruit people, get back to it.” Hotch’s ice cold tone rings out into the room as the others filter in behind him. Shit. You hadn’t realised that he had overheard your conversation from the doorway, however, you did notice his clenched jaw and balled fists. Though you weren’t sure why it mattered, nothing was going on between the two of you, so why was he bothered?

“Yeah, Selwyn, you should know better” Morgan mocks, swatting you in the back of a head with a case file as he seats himself down next to you.

“Since when did you become such a kiss-ass, huh? Still looking for Hotch’s compliments I see?” you fire back instantly, ignoring the look you were being given from across the room. This kind of interaction was normal for you and Morgan, it was completely harmless, never failing to bring a smile to either one of your faces.

“I’ve been wanting to ask, why does this guy choose a truck as his weapon if he was military? Surely that goes against what he would have been trained to do?” Detective Fulbert asks, directing the question to you.

“Well for him to use the truck in the confines of the hospital car park when he knew there was a risk of being caught, shows that he’s becoming more brazen and whilst that may seem like a mistake, it will have been perfectly calculated. It’s also-”

“Is that all you’ve managed to come up with?” Hotch interrupts you, his eyes cold and hard as he stares at you, the air suddenly so thick with tension you could cut it with a knife.

“If you hadn’t interrupted me, you’d know that it wasn’t. Reid and I worked out that all of the victims drove red convertibles, meaning that if that’s how he’s finding his victims, the initial contact between then would definitely have come from being on the road” you reply, trying to keep your voice as neutral as possible, but you can’t help the slight tone of annoyance beneath it.

“Well I’m glad to see you’ve actually done some work, Selwyn. What other theories do we have about this?” Hotch asks and you don’t respond, letting Reid take over.

“All three victims had one particular road in their daily routines; route seven. Route seven is known for being the most dangerous stretch of highway in the state”

“Suicide seven, that’s what us locals call it. It’s either a head on collision, or they just go right over the side” the detective voices.

“Maybe our unsub had been in a crash on that particular road and if it left it with significant injuries, it would explain the sense of power and mobility from the truck” Morgan suggests, working the new information into the profile.

The discussion carried on for slightly longer, theories being, either being added to the profile, or quickly disregarded. For the rest of the afternoon Hotch avoided you like the plague and truthfully you were grateful, ever since the incident in the conference room you’d wanted nothing more than to keep out of his way. Fixing yourself your fourth tea of the day, you almost laughed aloud at Hotch’s childish behaviour; the snide comments, the accusing looks, it was hard to take him seriously at times and quite frankly it was becoming infuriating.

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