#the way she is the only one that picks up on jj being *actually* traumatized and not just dramatic

[onlyhereforangst]

you guys, not everything is a kingpin movie...okay i see you, i see your trauma, i believe you why would they want the compass?

[reidgraygubler]

look at my son (spencer reid/reader)

Title: look at my son 

Request: no

Couple: dad!spencer reid/fem!reader

Category: fluff w/ a side of angst

Content Warning: spencer’s pov, mentions of an absent father, mentions of child birth, crying, anxieties about parenthood, new parents, talks about spencer’s past (prison, addiction, kidnapping), brief mentions about past suicidal thoughts, mentions of drugs (Dilaudid) and needles

Word Count: 3,957

Summary: spencer has a heart to heart with his newborn son while his wife sleeps.

A/N: totally based on dear theodosa from the hamilton soundtrack. I am not afraid to say that. Definitely big feels happening and there’s no regrets. this is possibly my favorite thing i’ve ever written. my best friend said it was soft and adorable, and so sweet she needed a dentist. i love it so much.  thank you all so much for the love and support! check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

“Go to sleep, please, you need rest,” I whispered as I looked down at my overly-exhausted wife. Although her face was looking up at me, her eyes were somewhere else. They were on a small figure just to the left of me. Her eyes had a certain glossiness over them, and it was most certainly from her exhaustion or the hours of pain she just endured to bring our son into the world. 

“B-but,” she finally looked away from the figure and up at me. “What… What if he wakes up… And, and he needs me.” Her voice was soft and cracked at the end of her words. I smiled softly as I tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

“It’s a good thing I never sleep. Please, you really need the rest. I’ll be here,” I returned the whisper before pressing my lips to her forehead. Her hand gripped mine as I went to move away. I looked down at her, appreciating the way the dim lamp lit up her face. Even though she was extremely tired, she still looked beautiful to me.

“If he wakes up… Or… Or cries… Or moves the wrong way… Please, wake me up," she whispered, her eyes still on me. The grip she held on my hand wasn’t super tight, but it was tight enough for me to keep my hand in hers.

“Please trust me… He’ll be fine and I’ll be fine. If I need help I’ll get a nurse,” I lifted a hand and gently held her face. She slowly blinked and nodded. “Everything will be okay for an hour, okay?” 

“Okay, okay,” she looked between me and the sleeping baby, “An hour is so long,” she whined. I smiled before laughing softly. 

“Get some rest,” I pressed my lips to her forehead, again, before to her lips, “I love you,” I looked down at her with a soft smile.

“But...”

“Go to sleep,” I stared at her. She grumbled a little bit before pulling the blanket further up her body. I finally pulled my hand from hers and went back to the chair. I kept my eyes on her for a few minutes, watching as she tossed and turned before eventually falling asleep. I felt a little bad for forcing her to go to sleep, mostly because I knew she wanted to spend every waking moment with our son. But when she was actually awake, she was so exhausted that it looked like she’d pass out at any moment.

When I was sure she was asleep for a little while, I flipped my book open and began to read. Of course, my attention only lasted for so long when a soft sound came from the bassinet beside me. I pulled my eyes off the book and looked towards my son. He was wiggling slightly in his spot, but just a little bit. If you were just looking in the room, and not right at him, you wouldn’t have noticed him moving. But my attention was solely on him, so I could see his movements.

I looked over at my sleeping wife, noting that she was stirring slightly. My eyes stayed on her for a moment, waiting till she got comfortable again before I stood from the chair and walked over to the bassinet. 

“Hey there,” I looked down at the wiggling form. I know he wasn’t looking at me, but my heart grew as he moved his head to face me. “Your mom is asleep right now. So, you’ve got me. Your dad,” I whispered as I carefully rested my hand on his body. He was so small, my hand was almost the size of him. “I’m your dad.” 

I stayed silent as I stared at him. I didn’t want to pick him up, in case he went back to sleep. Of course, luck would not be on my side. Because the second I pulled my hand from his body, he started screaming and crying. 

“Oh, please, please don’t,” I cringed as I quickly looked over my shoulder at my wife. She had begun stirring again, slowly waking up. “I got it, it’s okay,” I spoke loud enough for her to hear. I turned and looked back at the screaming boy. 

“Shhh, it’s okay,” I whispered as I picked him up, holding him close to my chest with both my hands. The second he was close to me, he calmed down. A small sigh of relief came from me as I turned to sit back down.

My wife was still, her eyes on me with a small smile on her lips. “Go back to sleep, I got it,” I looked back at her as I adjusted my hold on the baby. 

“He’s so little in your arms though…” she whispered as she kept her eyes on me. I looked up from our baby and at her. “Just a widdle man,” she closed her eyes before sighing deeply. 

“Yeah, he is, isn’t he?” I asked, bringing my hand to his face. My fingers gently brushed across his cheeks before down the bridge of his nose. 

I was happy I didn’t get an answer from my wife. I was even happier when I looked up at her and she was asleep. Actually asleep too. I could only hope it was a restful sleep this time. 

My attention was drawn back down to my son when he started crying a little bit. I was instantly looking at his face. The longer I stared at him, the more my heart swelled or fluttered or whatever it was it was doing. I knew a lot of things. But, I didn’t know the feeling I was having for my son, my own child. Of course, I felt this feeling before with my wife. But this was somehow different.

“So, anyway, I’m your dad… That’s so weird to say… that I’m someone’s dad now,” I whispered as I brought my hand to hold the back of his head. “I never thought I’d ever say that, but we’ll keep that between you and me, okay?” I smiled softly. My body carefully swayed back and forth to try to keep him quiet. 

I stayed quiet as I stared at him. I wasn’t scared that I’d wake him up. No, I was just scared I’d say the wrong thing. But can you really say the wrong thing to a baby who was 12 hours old? I wasn’t entirely sure, but it was one of my fears.

“You know, growing up I didn’t exactly have a dad. He left me when I was just 10,” my voice was hardly a whisper as I stared at him. I could feel tears begin to well in the corner of my eyes. There was nothing I could do to stop them either. I just had to let them roll down my cheeks.

“I just had my mom. And, well, my mom just had me." I brought my hand back to rest on his body. The way he breathed seemingly calmed me down. But I think it was the fact that he was okay that was calming me. He’s been okay since the first day we knew about him. In fact, he was more than okay. He was perfect.

“But I promise,” my voice was shaky as I stared at him, “I’ll be around for you. You’ll have a mom and a dad.” I tried to keep my voice from cracking, but it was hard not to let the emotions show. 

I pressed my head back into the headrest behind me. Just as my eyes closed, he started moving around against my chest. I looked down at him and saw him looking back up at me. 

“Hey there,” I laughed as I looked at his eyes, “You have your mom’s eyes,” I wrinkled my nose as I stared at him. 

I tried to not think about all the monsters in the world outside of our hospital room. All the horrors and terrors his mom and I have gone through to get to this very moment. I’d do whatever it takes just to make sure he’s safe and sound. The thoughts of the monsters made me scared. Is this what parenthood would be? Being scared every waking moment, while simultaneously being in love, and embracing the ups and downs of everything? 

Was I prepared for this? Was I prepared at all to be a father? I mean, I didn’t have a father figure till I was 22, but even he left me. I tried to not think about it, but it was becoming increasingly harder the more I sat in silence.

With a deep sigh, I looked down at him. I was happy he was quiet. He had a long day too. Being born can do a lot to a person, well to more than a person. I think I’m more happy than tired, to be honest. That he’s here, and he’s perfect, and no one would ever be as perfect as he is to me.

I’ve waited for this moment for… I don’t even know. I don’t think there was a starting point, the feeling was just always there. 9 months ago just fueled this feeling. And, now he’s here. It took him a long time today, too. He really wanted his first appearance to be grand. Just like his mother.

“I’m a dad,” I whispered, this time letting my words break. My eyes stayed glued to him. It was impossible to say how much time had passed, but I knew it was a while. And his mom stayed asleep the whole time. Just like how he did. 

If I had known I’d become a dad 15 years ago, when I was kidnapped by Tobias Henkel, when I thought I’d die then… I probably would have been safer and stayed with JJ. I wouldn’t have split up with her. Or, all those times after I was kidnapped, sitting in a bathroom stall with a needle in my arm while Dilaudid ran through my bloodstream, waiting for the high to kick in or take me for good. Or… Or my time in prison, where there were the times I almost got killed… I could go on, really. I have too many near-death experiences to count.

“I can’t wait to tell you all the stories I know, you’ll love them,” I ran my finger back down his nose before resting it gently on his lips, then on his chin. “Russian folk tales… Chaucer, like my mother told me… Stories of cases your mom and I were on,” I smiled as his nose twitched slightly. I sighed deeply before pressing my head against the chair behind me. “Maybe someday I’ll teach you chess.”

Even though all he did was just be born, he still went through some traumatic stuff. All of that can do a lot to a person. And when he was finally here, and in our arms, he cried. He cried to let his long awaited parents know he was finally here. It made my wife cry, and it made me cry. But it was the way he cried that broke my heart. The sharp ear-piercing screams resonated in the room, and I knew for sure I’d never forget it.

My arms stayed still, holding him close to my chest. I couldn’t stop my eyelids from shutting, like miniature garage doors closing. My body was yelling, shouting for sleep. Even though I never slept before this, watching my wife give birth, and all the moments leading up to this moment here, were exhausting. But they’re precious moments. All 3 of us may be exhausted, but it’ll be worth it all. 

Although, it was this moment that I decided every day was going to be for him. He was going to be the reason I’d return home instead of staying at the office late. Before his birth, and even before we found out about him, I never envisioned my life turning domestic. To be honest, even though I longed to be a parent, I never truly envisioned myself adopting a domestic life-style. 

 As long as he stayed still in my arms, he could stay with me while I slept. I think even if he squirmed a little bit in my arms, he couldn’t get very far. His tired little body was wrapped tightly in his blanket. Thankfully he was fast asleep, not a care in the world. He was still entirely too little to have anything to care about, other than eating and sleeping. 

It was early in the morning, or some would say late at night. Our room was dark, the only light coming from the small desk lap on the nightstand beside me. Outside, the sun was just starting to rise, making the sky a dark pale blue. Usually I’d watch the sunrise, but… my son. 

The quietness of our room mixed with the whispers of the nurses out in the halls, and their squeaky shoes, and the whirring of the hospital machinery became my soft lullabies, lulling me to sleep. The three of us slept peacefully, not a bother in the room.

But what it was that actually got me to sleep was the thought of him growing up. I thought I was smart, but the images and thoughts of him older, and even now, made me so… happy that I felt dumb.  

{***}{***}{***}

“When did you say they were coming?” my wife asked, looking between me and the baby. I looked down at my watch, trying to remember when the team would come over to visit. It wasn’t that I forgot when they were coming over… I just had other things on my mind. Like my son and wife for instance.

“I think, any minu-”’-te now.’

“Alright, where’s my precious godson!” a woman exclaimed, cutting me off, as she entered the room. I looked over at the door for a brief moment, watching as 4 people walked into the room. A small smile grew across my lips as I recognized the 4 people as Penelope, Luke, JJ, and Emily. 

“Hey,” my wife looked at everyone with a big smile and exhausted eyes. 

“Good morning, mom and dad,” Penelope looked between us. The smile she wore was bright and cheery, like usual. She carried a balloon, a stuffed animal, and a few large gift bags. 

“It’s so nice seeing you guys,” my wife smiled as she spoke.

“It’s hard to believe that you just had a baby. You look… Amazing,” JJ laughed as she looked at my wife. My wife looked over at JJ with a certain exhaustion in her eyes. 

“I don’t feel like I look amazing,” she laughed lightly. The baby in her arms wiggled slightly, causing everyone to look at him.

“Oh, look at him,” Penelope cooed as she looked between me, my wife, then finally at my son. I smiled as I looked at the small baby in my wife’s arms. “You must be so proud, Spence." “Well, I wouldn’t say proud is the word I’m looking for,” I laughed as I peeled my eyes off my child and looked at Penelope, Luke, JJ, and Emily. Although I was half expecting them to be looking at the sleeping baby, they were looking at me. How did they not want to look at my baby? He’s all I wanted to look at. He had my undivided attention now. 

“It’s so weird that you're a dad now,” JJ laughed as she walked around the other 3 guests and came to stand closer to me. I smiled, watching as she placed a small, pale blue gift bag on the small table. 

“Do you want to hold him?” My wife looked up at JJ with a smile. JJ looked down at the baby before up at my wife. 

“Are-are you sure?” JJ laughed lightly as she looked between my wife and child. I smiled as I looked at JJ. I laughed lightly at her hesitance. To be fair, she just wanted to make extra sure it was okay, since we’re new parents. 

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t sure,” my wife laughed as she carefully held out her arms. JJ smiled as she carefully picked our baby up from her arms. I smiled as she sat on the edge of the bed, holding my baby close to her body.

“He’s… precious,” JJ whispered as he looked down at him. “He has your nose,” she looked over at my wife, who was lovingly looking at our baby. A small smile grew across her lips as she nodded. 

 “Well, he has his father’s eyes.” My wife looked up at me with a small smile. If we hadn’t already argued over his little facial features, I would’ve argued with her that our son looks the most like her. That was why he was perfect. 

“Has Derek come by yet?” Emily asked as she looked away from the baby and at me.

“He said he’d visit when we got back home,” I nodded as I looked over at her. Emily nodded before returning her gaze back to the baby. Everyone was looking at him, and I didn’t blame them. 

“You guys… You take all the time that you need. Don’t rush back to the office,” Emily nodded. 

“But please come by and visit us all you want,” Penelope spoke as she looked between my small family. I laughed and nodded.

“We’ll definitely come and visit you guys.”

“You all know Spence. Can’t stay away from the office for a long time,” it was my wife’s turn to talk. She looked at me and lifted a hand. I looked back at her, adoring the way she smiled at me. I lifted my hand and placed it in hers. When she finds out that my days of staying late at the office are over, I’m sure she’ll be more than excited.  

“Maybe those days are over,” I shrugged as I looked down at the baby. I smiled softly and felt a sudden wave of calm wash over me. Everyone looked away from the baby and up at me with mild shock on their faces. 

“Really?” My wife asked as she gently pulled on my arm. I looked down at my wife, noting the way she was looking back at me. 

“I’ve been thinking about it. No hard answers,” I spoke as I looked back at Emily.

“Take all the ti-” She was unfortunately cut off by her phone ringing, “time… I’ll be right back,” she nodded before leaving the room. 

“I can’t wait to spoil the little sucker,” Penelope clapped her hands together as she looked between us. I laughed, watching as Luke looked at his partner. 

“Sure, spoil,” he nodded. The moment was ruined by our son unexpectedly screaming. JJ looked over at my wife, an apologetic look on her face.

“It’s okay. You know how newborns are,” my wife laughed as she took the baby from JJ. 

“With that, we should probably go. Little guy’s probably hungry,” JJ nervously chuckled as she stood. I shoved my hands in my pockets and stepped over to the three. 

“Thanks for stopping over. You guys seriously don’t know how much this means to me… To us,” I gestured over to my wife as I spoke.

“Oh, Spence, of course! Wouldn’t miss visiting you guys the first day as parents,” JJ smiled as she hugged me. I hummed as I hugged her. 

I wasn’t sure how long I had been asleep, if I had slept at all. I wasn’t even sure if it was a restful sleep either. But what I did know that one second later my body jerked awake when the loud sharp cries of a baby. 

My eyes snapped open and I looked down at the screaming figure. I cringed as I glanced at my wife, who I hoped was sleeping. But she was awake. Her eyes were glued to me and the baby.

“What are you doing awake?” I asked as I looked over at my wife, who was looking at me with wide, dewy eyes. Her exhausted smile told me that she’d been awake for a while. I looked down at the screaming baby in my arms before looking back at her. “Figured that one out myself.” I laughed when I realized the redundancy of my question. I stood up and lightly bounced to try to quiet the baby.

“I can take him.” My wife smiled as she looked up at me and lifted up her hands. Her eyes were glued to the small figure in my hands. I looked down at the baby and nodded.

“Yeah, I knew you were about to say that.” I laughed as I stepped over to her. She finally looked away from the baby and up at me with a smile. “How’d you sleep?” 

“Well, I slept.” She sighed deeply as she held the baby close to her. She looked down at him and smiled. “Hello, little man," she whispered as she brought her finger down his nose. “How did you sleep?” 

“To be honest, I don’t think I did.” I wrinkled my eyebrows as I sat back down. “Just… I’m not sure anymore. I didn’t sleep before he was born… But now I think I’ve lost all chances of sleep with him.” I chucked as I looked over at them. 

“Well… I mean, I’m sure your 12 cups of coffee a day won’t help that situation.” She laughed as she glanced at me. I slouched back in my chair, resting my head on my fist. “Or, well, I take that back. Keep drinking your 12 cups. I don’t want to wake up at 3 in the morning for diaper changes.” She sighed as she looked at the baby.

“Guess I’m going to need all of the time off in the world then,” I spoke through a yawn. My wife smiled at me and nodded. “Surely Emily won’t care if we’re both off for a while. She’s got plenty of help with the team.”

“I think I’ll need the help more than Emily,” my wife chuckled lightly. “You should get some rest, Spencer. You look more exhausted than me.” 

“How do you know what you look like?” I furrowed my eyebrows. She glanced at me before patting the small space beside her. I looked at her hand before yawning again.

“Just a guess. C’mere,” she looked at me as she moved her hand back and forth on the space. With a deep sigh, I stood up and moved so I was sitting beside her on the bed. “There, now you’ll sleep better.” 

“And where’d you get this science from?” I asked as I rested my head on her shoulder. She chuckled lightly and shrugged.

“On the science that I’m your wife and I know you sleep better when you’re beside me instead of a crappy hospital chair.” She looked down at me. I looked back at her before blinking lightly.

“Okay, that’s pretty sound logic.” I nodded as I looked down at the baby, who was back to sleep. It was amazing what a mother’s touch could do.

“See, like father, like son," she whispered as she brought her hand back up to her face. I furrowed my eyebrows before smiling. “Please get some sleep.”

“Beginning to sound like me there.” I lifted my head slightly to look at her. She looked back at me before pressing her lips to mine. 

“Sleep tight.” She ruffled my hair slightly. I smiled before resting me head back on her shoulder. 

I was happy when sleep came to me. It felt more restful than before… Maybe my wife’s scientific logic made sense...

taglist: @mggsprettygirl​ @muffin-cup​ @thebluetint​ @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​ 

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[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 17 - Mind Games [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, angst.

Word Count: 4700

Summary: Love demands sacrifices.

Not even once in your life had you ever imagined yourself in handcuffs, in an interrogation room on the wrong side of the table.

You weren’t even at the FBI headquarters though. The police had taken you to the station after the hospital, taking a blood sample and your fingerprints, then they had handcuffed you and left you there with a glass of water.

Of course they suspected you. Of course they thought you had murdered him.

Murder was your father’s legacy, after all.

You traced the handcuffs over your wrists, already feeling the bruises forming there. The shock still hadn’t worn off but you were starting to think it was a good thing. It felt as if you were watching all of this from behind some kind of glass window, perfectly aware of every single emotion but unable to actually feel them.

Spencer had said when you felt threatened, your body produced nervous energy, some sort of a fight or flight reaction but for once you weren’t trying to do any of that.

You just sat there, completely frozen.

“You look calm,” the police officer spoke, making you look up, trying to ignore the faint yelling coming from outside, possibly from the end of the hall.  

“I’m sorry?”

“Most people would be traumatized if this happened to them, they’d be crying, shaking…” he motioned at you, “But look at you. Still as a statue. You look pretty calm.”

“Would you rather if I were crying?”

“I’d rather if you were acting like a human being,” he said, “Why are you so calm?”

Why were you so calm?

Because your mother had taught you this much. Showing emotion when you were afraid meant weakness.

“My father was a serial killer,” you stated, looking him dead in the eye, “I’ve had a complicated childhood.”

“Yeah, I’d say…” he leaned in slightly, “You know, I’ve watched that documentary about your father. His interviews too.”

You raised your brows as he sniffled, trying to look like he was nonchalant about this whole situation.

“And I’ve spent sixteen years on this job,” he said, “After a while, you don’t even need anyone to speak for you to know what they’ve done. It’s all in their eyes and little girl,” he clicked his tongue, “There’s nothing behind your eyes but ice and death.”

You couldn’t cry. You wouldn’t cry. Not in front of people, not even if they tried to kill you. No matter how much they tried to hurt you-

No emotions.

“Impressive,” you managed to say, “Very poetic. Have you ever considered changing your career?”

“You know what I think?”

“I’m sure you’re about to enlighten me.”

“I think you wanted to follow your father’s footsteps,” he said, “I think you killed Anthony, and all those other people. It’s not even your fault, is it? Some people are just born broken.”

That was more than enough to make your eyes snap up to his and you could feel the lump in your throat but you bit your tongue so hard that you swallowed blood, making sure to keep your expression still.

“Nothing to say?”

“You’ve already decided what to think of me,” you said, “And I already told you what happened. What more do you want to hear?”

“Right,” he scoffed, taking a look at the file in front of him, “You went to bed around 12, didn’t wake up whole night, when you woke up you found him like that. Lying in a pool of his own blood, in your kitchen.”

“You don’t look like a whiskey girl.” an unfamiliar voice made you turn your head and you lowered your glass, tilting your head. The guy smiled at you, and stole a look at the whiskey glass you had put on the bar.

“Yeah?” you asked, “What girl am I then? If you’re such an expert?”

He thought for a moment, “Hmm, wine?”

“Depends on the occasion.”

“What kind of an occasion does whiskey call for?”

“Apparently an occasion for meeting guys with bad pick-up lines.”

He let out a chuckle, “Yeah, I swear I’m normally smoother than this.”

“I would hope so,” you grinned, and offered your hand, “Y/N.”

“Anthony.”

“But you failed to mention the part you texted him to come to your apartment.”

“I didn’t text anyone.”

“We have your phone Y/N.”

“I didn’t text anyone,” you repeated, “Someone must’ve drugged me and taken my phone, the same person who killed him, the same person who obviously broke into my apartment.”

“How convenient.”

You clenched your jaw.

“I always wake up during night,” you said, your voice completely calm and controlled. “Always. I never woke up last night, there has to be a reason for that.”

“If you’ve been drugged, it will come up on the blood tests.”

“Good.”

“While we wait for that,” he said, “Why don’t we go over what you did last night?”

You took a deep breath, “I woke up,” you said “Went to work. I left work at 7 to go to my sister’s place. I left there around eleven, came home and went to bed.”

“Nothing else happened.”

“Nothing else happened,” you repeated and he sat up straighter.

“Okay. Well just so you know, Dr. Spencer Reid—” he started and your head shot up, your heart slamming against your chest, “He is giving us his professional opinion at the moment, about this case and what might have really happened this morning. Do you have anything you want to change in your story before he’s finished?”

You gawked at him, blinking a couple of times before you turned your head to look at the one-way mirror on the wall.

The BAU was there, behind the mirror.

“….They came back?”

“We’ve sent them the report, yes. They landed an hour ago.”

It was as if somebody was trying to claw your stomach out of your body as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, trying to ignore the burning behind your eyes before you turned to the officer.

“I don’t have anything to change,” you managed to keep your voice stable, “It was a terrible thing, it definitely was but I didn’t do it.”

Someone knocked on the mirror, making you and the officer look that way before he pushed his chair back and left the interrogation room. You closed your eyes for a moment, focusing on your breathing through the blinding headache but opened your eyes when the door opened again.

Luke.

He offered you a small smile and pulled himself a chair.

“Hi.”

“Hello,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, sitting up with your back straight, your hands clasped.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you stole a look at the one-way mirror, “Is he there?”

“Reid?” Luke asked and shook his head, “I had to basically wrestle him out of the hall, he’s…he’s not allowed here. Conflict of interest. He’s giving his statement at the end of the hall as we speak.”

You nodded, digging your fingernails into your palms. “Okay.”

“He also called your sister on our way here. Couldn’t reach her, but left a message. Listen, he can’t request it on your behalf, but you need to ask for a lawyer.”

“I didn’t kill Anthony.”

“I didn’t ask if you killed him, I’m saying you need to ask for a lawyer.”

“Does he think I did it?” you asked and Luke shook his head again.

“No,” he said, “But it doesn’t matter what anyone else believes at this point, Y/N. Ask for a lawyer.”

You kept your back straight, rolling your shoulders. “If Spencer left a message to Mina, she’s coming.”

“Is she a defense lawyer?”

“No but she knows a lot of them.”

He took a deep breath and put the bottle of your pills on the desk, “The officers also found this.”

You tried your hardest to focus, moving your wrists to help with the soreness of the handcuffs. “They’re prescribed.”

“I can see that. The side effects say confusion?”

You arched a brow, “I’m sorry, do I sound confused to you right now?”

“No, you sound way too controlled right now, I may as well have been talking to a robot.”

You gritted your teeth, trying to control the panic bubbling at the pit of your stomach, sending anger through your veins.

“I’m not confused,” you stated, “Besides, I haven’t been taking them lately.”

He threw his head back, pressing his lips together, “God, Y/N, you can’t say that. A psychiatrist prescribed you something and you—“

“They’re just for nightmares, they don’t make you…” you took a deep breath, commanding yourself to stay calm, “I didn’t kill him. I found him like that. It was terrible, but I didn’t do it.”

Someone opened the door again and Emily Prentiss cleared her throat.

“Luke,” she murmured, “Spencer.”

You could feel your heart skip a beat upon hearing his name but kept completely still as Luke left the room and Emily and JJ walked into the room.

“You’re taking turns now?” you asked and Emily cleared her throat,

“Me and JJ are the only people in our team who haven’t spent as much time with you, so we figured it would be better if we interrogated you.”

“I didn’t do it.”

Emily pulled herself a chair as JJ crossed her arms, standing by the wall.

“Can you walk me through what happened this morning?”

You took a deep breath, “I woke up,” you said, “With a headache. I knew something was wrong, I felt it. My window was open, the front door was half open and my phone wasn’t where I left it. I stepped outside my room, saw the blood, went to the kitchen and saw—“ you gritted your teeth and clenched your fists, “Saw my ex-boyfriend there. Dead. Lying in a pool of his blood.”

“But you heard nothing.”

“I never sleep for the whole night,” you said slowly, “Check my blood test. Something happened last night.”

“We don’t have your blood test results yet, but there was no sign of any sexual—“

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” You cut her off, a shiver running down your spine, “That’s not it. Whoever it was, they didn’t touch me, they wanted…”

“What did they want?”

You shrugged slightly, “I don’t know. They wanted me to see it I think. My…my father’s crime scenes.”

JJ took a deep breath and pushed herself off the wall.

“And you don’t think it’s a little too convenient?”

You pulled your brows together, looking at her and she stepped closer to the table, her eyes fixed on you.

“Two victims so far,” she said, “The ones that we knew that were in the same place as you, they had some connection to you. That woman who was killed at the charity ball, you didn’t get along when you were kids, you turned her down as a client before she was killed, and now your ex-boyfriend ends up dead, in your apartment because you sent him a—“ she scoffed, “I’m sorry, someone sent him a late night text, inviting him to your apartment.”

“JJ,” Emily started but JJ held up a hand while you tried to wrap your head around it.

She had a point. Two victims so far had some connection to you and that was not a coincidence, it couldn’t have been.

“You think I did it,” you rasped out and she scoffed.

“I think you had something to do with all of this,” she said, “I think you’ve been trying to manipulate Spencer for something. The best case scenario, you were cheating, that’s why Anthony was there and something went bad, the worst case….” She shook her head, “You’re behind every single murder we’ve been looking into, and Spencer was just a tool for you. He’s my best friend, and if I find one single proof that you put him in harm’s way, I swear to God I will destroy you.”

Two people had ended up dead, and that was your fault. The copycat was going after people who had some kind of connection to you, and apparently no one except you and your family was safe.

The idea was way too painful to even exist inside your head, but it was clear as day. JJ was right, you were putting Spencer in harm’s way just by being with him, and if it were him, if you had seen him lying in a pool of his blood, his eyes wide open—

You dug your fingernails into your palms until it hurt before you managed to lift your head, that invisible wall which kept you safe from anyone and everyone who could possibly see anything you felt going up again.

“You…” you trailed off, your throat burning, “You don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

“What does that mean?” Emily asked but before you could say anything, someone slammed the door open, making you and the agents turn.

Mina.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” she asked no one in particular and stepped aside so that 4 lawyers could walk inside before the police officer rushed to you to remove the handcuffs off your wrists.

“You’re not saying another word,” she snapped her fingers, “Come on, we’re leaving.”

“We’re going to need her to sign some papers,” the officer said as Mina grabbed your wrist to pull you out of the room, making you hiss in a breath and she froze, lowering her glances to check your sore wrists for any bruises.

“What did they do to you?”

You shook your head silently, and something in Mina’s gaze shifted. You had seen it only a couple of times, including that time you were getting stitches after some girls in your classroom had ambushed you in the bathroom, and more importantly, you had seen that look on her face when Lily had fever that one time and you all had to rush to the hospital and the doctors said she couldn’t see her.

It was fire, similar to yours, ready to burn everything in its path.

“Don’t say anything to anyone. You two,” she motioned at the two lawyers, “Read whatever she’s supposed to sign.”

The lawyers approached the desk by the door as Mina put her coat over your shoulders, rubbing at your arms as you swayed slightly on your feet, trying to focus.

“We’re leaving, okay sweetheart?”

“Miss—“

“No,” When Mina turned to the police officers and the BAU team, any trace of softness in her voice disappeared, “You don’t talk. If you don’t want to get into even more trouble, you’re going to listen to me right now.”

The officer that had been with you at the interrogation room just blinked a couple of times, obviously taken aback.

“Do you have any idea what you just did to yourself?” she asked, “What you did to this whole precinct? Because allow me to explain, my sister was a victim in this scenario, and you tried to pin this shit on her to make her a scapegoat,” she shook her head, “We will be suing you for defamation of character—“

“Mina, your sister—” JJ started but she snapped her fingers at her.

“I haven’t even started with you yet, wait for your turn.”

“Mina…” you murmured but she didn’t even look like she could hear you,

“Where was I? Defamation of character because press will be all over this, intentional infliction of emotional stress and wrongful arrest and hey, to make things fun we will also be requesting the security footage in the interrogation room and if I see one very small slip of anything that wasn’t supposed to be said and done in that room…” Mina tilted her head, “Well, let’s just say that by the time I’m done with you guys and this whole precinct, the only thing you will be able to afford is going to be a typewriter and a desk.”

One of the lawyers came to tell you the document was alright to sign and as soon as you approached the desk, a door by the hall opened and Spencer stepped out.

It was almost excruciating not to be able to run to him. He looked as shocked as he was and he took a step towards you but JJ stepped in front of him as you grabbed the pen, ignoring the way your name spilled from his lips in a whisper.

“Oh, hi genius.” Mina called out, “Were you getting a glass of water while your team was hounding my sister or something?”

Spencer looked almost confused only for a moment before he turned to look at JJ who deliberately averted her glances from him.

“Mina, this is not necessary,” you croaked out as you signed the papers and she shook her head.

“No, this is very necessary, trust me. You need to show these people what you’re capable of or they will try to fuck you up, case and point.” She turned to Emily, “You’re the one in charge, I suppose?”

“I am.”

“Good. Consider this your warning, because the next time anyone in your team, including the puppy dog eyes over there gets any closer to my sister, we will be getting a restraining order for each and every one of you.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, still swaying on your feet and you hugged the coat around you tighter.

Not that you could do anything other than watching this.

“Your sister is an active part of this investigation, your father specifically asked for—“

“My sister is a civilian,” Mina growled, “She has no responsibility for this case, you do. How about you surprise me and do your fucking jobs?”

You took a breath to say it wasn’t fair, that it wasn’t their fault but Mina turned to look at you.

“Get in the elevator, we’re leaving.”

You were way too tired to fight her, way too tired to even stand there so you followed the army of lawyers to the elevator, while Mina shot the officers and the BAU members a fake smile.

“Pleasure, let’s never do this again,” she said, and got in the elevator with you, and you tried to keep your expression still, Spencer staring at you until the doors slid close.

“4 lawyers?” you managed to say, “I don’t think even Bundy had four lawyers.”

“Tell that to mom,” she said, “She was on the phone with a congressman the last I checked.”

You couldn’t even smile at that, but Mina let out a breath before pulling you into a bone crushing hug, making the tears rush to your eyes as you wrapped your arms around her.

“Never do that to me again, you hear me?” her voice cracked for the first time and you nodded slowly.

“I won’t,” you said, “I promise.”

                                                   ***

It was as if someone had pulled all your energy out of your body. You were exhausted, you could barely understand what anyone was saying but you knew there was no way you could sleep anytime soon.

The blood test, as the lawyers had informed you, finally came back and just like you suspected, they had found traces of chloroform in your system. That and your team of lawyers combined were more than enough to get rid of any kind of accusations against you, so at least you had that.

On the other hand, the fear, the guilt, the sadness were still there inside of you, even if you felt way too numb to reach it.

You wondered if Spencer would have a scientific explanation for that.

Your mother had insisted you would never step a foot into your apartment again, she was already looking for a new apartment for you, one with multiple security systems and until that happened she had told you you would be staying at her house.

The damn thing was way too big anyway and you and Mina had grown up there so you figured it would serve as some sort of shelter.

If it even existed for you.

“Here you go sweetheart,” your mother pushed the tea cup towards you, “Drink it, it’ll make you feel better.”

“I’m fine.”

Kenzie heaved a sigh, “It’s okay if you’re not,” she said, “No one expects you to, anyone would be traumatized.”

“The real estate agent already sent me three apartments,” your mother said, “Huge windows, you love a bright apartment.”

“Mom,” Mina said silently and she heaved a sigh.

“It could help her distract herself,” her head shot up, “Y/N, you should go on a vacation! Somewhere far away from here.”

“Somewhere peaceful could be nice?” Kenzie added, “I think that’s a good idea.”

You and Mina exchanged glances.

“I heard Fiji is lovely this time of the year,” your mother said and you let out a breath.

“Mom, two people died because of me,” you croaked out, “I’m not going to Fiji for vacation.”

“Honey, you could use some peace,” she held your chin carefully and lifted it so that she could look at you better, “You look so…”

“I look like how I feel,” you said and turned your head when the doorbell rang, making Mina sit up straighter.

“Who’s that?” she asked when the maid walked in.

“Spencer Reid?”

“What?” you and Kenzie asked at the same time, your heartbeat getting faster and Mina jumped on her feet but you stopped her, shaking your head.

“It’s okay,” you sniffled, nodding to yourself, “It’s….it’s fine. There’s no point in dragging it out.”

“Dragging what out?” Mina asked you but you walked out of the living room and reached the front door, trying to ignore the warmth filling your system as soon as your eyes caught the sight of him. You stepped out of the house and he pulled you into a tight hug, burying his nose into your hair and inhaling deeply as if it helped him calm down while you just stood there, desperately trying to keep the tears at bay.

You had to do it. No matter how much it hurt you, no matter how much you didn’t want to.

No matter how badly it would rip your heart out.

“You okay?” he asked you, his fingers pushing your hair behind your ear, “I tried your apartment but I figured…”

“Yeah, I’m not going back there,” you shrugged your shoulders, “I’ll move out, it’s fine.”

“Do you want to stay at my place?” he asked quickly and you closed your eyes for a moment, every cell in your body begging you to change your mind.

You couldn’t though. You’d rather die than see him lying in a pool of his blood, all because of you.

“Don’t say that,” you whispered and opened your eyes again, “Please don’t say that.”

He looked almost confused, tilting his head to the side like a puppy before it dawned on him.

“Is this about the file on me?”

You shook your head and he took a deep breath.

“About today?”

“I didn’t send that message,” you said, “To Anthony, I mean. I wouldn’t…. I wouldn’t cheat on you.”

“I know that.”

“And I didn’t kill him. I don’t know if you heard, but the blood tests came back positive for—”

“I never doubted that, not even for one second,” he insisted, “With or without blood test.”

“You might be the only one,” you murmured and he paused for a moment.

“What did JJ say to you?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Because we had an argument on the jet on our way back here and whatever she said…”

You shook your head again, trying to smile.

“I get it,” you murmured, “She’s your best friend, she’s protective of you. That’s normal.”

“Yeah but if she thinks that you’re capable of—”

“I want to break up.”

You could swear the words burned your mouth, some invisible hand clutching your heart tighter and tighter as you willed yourself to keep your eyes on the street, because you were sure that every wall you built to keep your emotions under control would crash down the moment you looked at him. Out of the corner of your eye you could see that he froze and he blinked a couple of times, as if he was lost.

“What?” he asked silently and you tried to swallow the lump growing bigger and bigger in your throat.

“Y/N, wait—no,” he said quickly, breathing hard, “Listen, whatever they said to you today during the interrogation, if that’s what this is about—”

“It has nothing to do with that,” you forced yourself to say, crossing your arms and he took a step closer to you.

“Whatever the problem is,” he rasped out, “We can solve it, okay? Don’t do this.”

That was when it dawned on you.

It wasn’t enough to push him away. You had to make sure to burn that bridge so that neither of you could ever find your way back to each other.

“It’s not one of your cases Spencer, you can’t solve this one,” you muttered and finally turned your head to look up at him, your stomach churning at the sight of betrayal on his face.

“I don’t understand.”

“You—it’s—“ you stammered, trying to find the words, “It’s going way too fast, alright? It’s going way too fast and it’s going to fucking crash, and I can’t—“ you cleared your throat when your voice cracked, “I’m not going to crash with this, I can’t.”

Your father had taught you this way too long ago, when you were too young to even question it.

Stab the prey, twist the knife, pull it back and watch them bleed.

Stab the prey.

“I mean come on Spencer, we’re not in love or anything,” you shrugged your shoulders, “Should be easy enough.”

He stared at you for a couple of seconds, his mouth slightly agape and his brows furrowed, shock written all over his face.

“We’re not in love?” he repeated, “You…you don’t love me?”

Twist the knife.

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

His eyes searched your face, as if looking for any kind of clue that could tell him you were lying, or that it was a trick but for once, it was in vain.

You’d had spent years learning how to control your emotions and your expression when it came to heartbreak.

Pull it back.

“It’s not my fault if you’re in love,” you said, each word making you hate yourself more and more, “I can’t be held responsible for that.”

Stabbing yourself would’ve been less painful, you were sure of that but you knew you had to keep going. One last step, one last sentence and you would be done.

Watch them bleed.

“I never told you to love me.”

Then, silence.

You had to give it to him though, it took him faster than it would’ve taken you to pull yourself together if you were the one on the receiving end of this. He blinked back the tears, clenched his jaw and in a second, his gaze turned cold, exactly like yours.

“Yeah,” he said slowly, nodding, “You didn’t.”

But you had forgotten one small detail. 

Spencer knew how to withdraw that knife and stab back.

You cleared your throat and turned around to get inside the house but before you could step in, you heard his voice.

“I was wrong.”

You looked over your shoulder, clutching at the straws to keep it together, “I’m sorry?”

“I was wrong,” he stated, his voice was distant and held no trace of its usual warmth, “Before, I mean. In terms of behavior and psychology, you’re exactly your father’s daughter.”

With that, he walked away from the house, and you just stood there for a moment before stepping into the house and closing the door behind you, that comfortable haze of shock slowly withdrawing from your mind like mist. That hand squeezing your heart twisted it in your chest and you tried to breathe, pressing a hand on your chest.

“Sweetheart?” your mother called out as she stepped into the hallway, then slowly approached you, “You okay?”

It was impossible to stop the tears rushing to your eyes now and a gasp escaped from your lips as you shook your head.

“Mom,” you whimpered, “Please, my—my heart hurts...”

She rushed to you and shushed you gently, pulling you into a tight hug and caressing your hair as you slipped to the ground and you buried your face to her shoulder.

Then the sobs came.

Chapter 18

[awhitehead17]

Batfam Alphabet: J - Joker Junior (JJ)

Summary: When Dick is joined by his brother’s alter personality he struggles to complete his case work. JJ can be rather distracting especially when Dick has to keep a constant eye on him because he can’t be trusted to be on his own. 

A/N: This story references to torture and self harm, nothing in graphic detail but please don't read if that makes you uncomfortable. This story is based where Tim had been kidnapped by the Joker and turned into Joker Junior. 

Enjoy! :D 

“Don’t. Put it back. Now.”

There’s a few beats of a silence and without looking he could tell his orders haven’t been followed. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

Seconds later there’s a clanging of metal which indicates he’s been finally listened too. Dick takes a deep breath in and slowly lets it out before turning his focus back onto the task at hand.

He’s currently re-reading old case files looking for any names, locations, alibies that could possibly be linked into the current case he’s working. It’s a tedious task but it needs to be done. That being said it would be a lot easier if current company wasn’t present. It was rather distracting having to split his focus two ways so he could try and work as well as keep an eye on the kid at the same time.

This time Dick’s read no more than a paragraph when the sound of moving metal could be heard yet again.

Sighing in resignation, he shuts the file and turns around to face the rest of the cave. His eyes instantly drift over to the weapons table where his companion currently is at. The kid is frozen in place, staring wide-eyed at Dick knowing he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing. It’s like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar, only in this situation the cookie is a dagger rather than an edible treat.

Opposite him the kid silently blinks owlishly, it would actually be an adorable sight if it weren’t for the creepy ass grin stretching across his face. It’s the grin that reminds Dick who he’s dealing with. It isn’t Tim who is standing in front of him but rather his alternate personality, JJ.

JJ first appeared about two years ago after Tim had been captured and tortured by the Joker. The best explanation they could come up with for his appearance is that JJ is Tim’s way of detaching himself from the traumatic experience he had. JJ is the result of the horrendous torture Tim went through.

It’s certainly taken everyone some time to adjust to this development. Even now, years later, everyone is still getting used to it. Tim is here, he’s still present and is the core identity, but JJ occasionally makes an appearance especially when Tim is feeling threatened, extremely stressed or emotionally unstable.

The whole thing has been a learning curve for everyone involved. Even Tim had to learn to deal with it. At first he understandably didn’t accept what was happening but over time he seem to concede with it and even come to some sort of agreement with JJ, apparently the two identities can communicate no matter who’s in control. Tim’s tried to explain it to him in the past but it’s pretty mind boggling so Dick simply believes what Tim is saying and doesn’t ask questions.

He can’t help but feel a little disturbed by JJ’s presence, it’s an unfair feeling because it’s not JJ’s fault – or Tim’s – but being reminded of what his little brother had to endure at the hands of an insane psychotic man is unnerving. It’s like a reminder of how he didn’t protect his little brother and how he failed him by not being good enough.  

He knows the others also share similar feelings. Jason simply stays away from JJ, he doesn’t even enter the same room as him. Damian is constantly on edge when JJ is present, he often carries his katana around with him when they’re near one another. Cass happens to be the one who handles JJ the best, her calm demeanour seems to bizarrely settle JJ a little. Bruce… well Bruce has similar thoughts to him of how he failed to protect Tim, but both as a father and a mentor. He’s sat down with JJ and has had a conversation with him, they seemed to come to some sort of agreement which Dick doesn’t know the details of. Alfred, god bless him, takes it all in stride as he does with everything. Everyone else is weary of him but are civil towards him as much as they can be.

“JJ, I told you to put it down. Why did you pick it back up?” Dick questions after a long drawn out silence.

JJ plays with the dagger in his hands, twisting it this way and that with skilled precision. He blinks again and lets out a giggle. “Timmy needs to be punished.”

Dick frowns at the answer. That’s not what he had been expecting. “Why does Tim need to be punished? What has he done?”

“He failed us.”

JJ says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world but Dick has no idea what he’s on about. How has Tim failed? All Dick knows is that recently Tim’s been busy with the Titan’s and how he’s been working on his Neon Knights programme.

“What happened?”

JJ doesn’t respond and continues to play with the dagger in his hands. Seeing the sharp blade being toyed with makes Dick feel tense, he knows what kind of damage can be done with a weapon like that and he doesn’t want Tim – and by extension JJ – to get hurt.

“Timmy needs to be punished!” JJ repeats agitatedly. He stops playing with the dagger and grips it in both hands, Dick couldn’t help but wince when he sees the blade dig into the skin of his palms. “When someone fails they get punished. When they are bad they get punished! Timmy has to be punished for what he did.” JJ trails off with a high pitched giggle like the idea of punishment is hilarious.

Dick runs a hand over his face, he’s not getting anywhere here. Where’s Cass when you need her? She’s usually better at dealing with this side of JJ than he is.

“You know that physically punishing Tim also means you hurting yourself, don’t you?” Dick suggests evenly, trying a different tactic. “There are other ways than physical pain to deal with these sort of things.”

Dick has an inkling he knows what this is all about but he doesn’t want to jump to conclusions just yet.

JJ lets out an uncontrollable giggle. “Silly Big Bird, I don’t feel pain, Uncle J made sure of that. Timmy on the other hand needs to pay for what he did and physical pain is the best way to teach a lesson so he remembers not to do it again.”

As if to prove a point, that’s when a drop of blood drips from JJ’s hand and lands on the floor. JJ doesn’t even notice. Dick tries to not flinch at the sight it, he hates the idea of his little brother hurting, no matter what it is it’s always hard to witness.

“I understand that you may be frustrated JJ, but why don’t you try talking to Tim instead. Tell him how you feel about whatever it is that he did and explain why you’re upset with the situation.” Dick suggests trying to sound as reasonable as he could.

JJ violently shakes his head, he seems to be getting more riled up as the conversation continues.

“No! Talking doesn’t work! He ignores me and doesn’t listen. The mission failed and he put us in danger for no reason, we could have been killed for nothing. He needs to remember to not do that again. I’ll make sure he remembers not to.”

Dick lets out a hum in acknowledgement. Something they’ve come to notice since JJ’s appearance is how protective, and even possessive, he is of Tim. The key thing is how no one is allowed to hurt Tim in anyway whatsoever, if they do then JJ will go on a vengeful rampage against whoever was responsible for it. That includes Tim himself.

To JJ, Tim putting himself in danger is essentially Tim hurting himself and he really doesn’t like that. It’s happened a couple times in the past, so in response to Tim putting himself in danger (often during missions) JJ feels the need to punish Tim for it.

Taking a deep breath Dick stares at the kid and wonders how he should proceed. He can’t just turn around and say “no” or retaliate because JJ will only get defensive and probably go do something much worse as a result. While Dick ponders, JJ stands there opposite him still gripping the dagger tightly in his hands with a small puddle of blood forming at his feet and grins creepily at Dick. To make the scene worse JJ tilts his head to the side just a little, adding to the creepy affect even more.

Thankfully he’s saved from trying to decide what to do when another body soon joins them in the cave. Dick’s attention turns away from JJ and onto Cass who casually strolls towards them with a light bounce in her step. Dick smiles warmly at her, feeling relieved for her appearance. Then immediate guilt hits him because he really shouldn’t be thinking that, Tim is his brother and what’s happened is by no means his fault and he should try to be supportive where he can, though sometimes it can get difficult.

Cass silently comes up to them and stands next to JJ. Dick watches with amusement as JJ’s grin slowly disappears from his face and is replaced with a scowl, his eyes narrow in what he would say is a challenge as he stares at her unmoving. Cass simply raises an eyebrow, she places a hand on her side and cocks her hip while she holds out the other in silent demand.

The two stare at one another for a long time, clearly testing the other’s patience and if Dick’s being honest he has to give JJ some credit for how long he’s with standing Cass’s pointed look. However it seems like JJ can’t out last Cass because he soon drops his gaze and relaxes his grip on the dagger but doesn’t let go of it yet.

“Timmy and I just want to have some fun. Why is that wrong?” JJ pouts, actually seeming disappointed and confused for why they’re saying no to him.

Dick catches himself from saying anything at the last second. He wants to question the ‘fun’ part of punishing but thinks better of it, it’s best that he stays quiet and lets Cass handle the situation.

Still staring at JJ, Cass keeps her hand out waiting for JJ to give her the dagger. After more staring he slaps the weapon into her hand with an exaggerated huff.

“Fine.” JJ huffs with a stomp of his foot. He scowls and crosses his arms over his chest. “I guess I’ll have to find another way to punish – oops! – I mean play with Timmy.” He lets out a hysterical giggle at his own words.

Cass shakes her head and moves towards Dick. They make eyes contact and Cass sends him a soft smile, when she gets close enough with the hand not holding the bloody dagger she reaches up and cups his cheek. “Finish work and rest. I’ve got this.”

Dick places his hand over hers and sends her an appreciative look. “Thank you.”

Standing up Dick grabs the file he had abandoned earlier and makes a move to leave the desk, it’ll probably be best to head to his bedroom in the Manor where he won’t be disturbed, but when he turns around he finds JJ now over by the weapons table yet again.

“JJ!” He snaps harshly. The kid startles and looks up at Dick before a wide grin stretches across his face, he’s not even ashamed that he’s been caught with his hand hovering over another dagger. He soon retracts his hand and places them both behind his back, he sways side to side like he’s an innocent kid.

“What? I’m not doing anything.”

Dick couldn’t help but eyeroll at the blatant lie. He sends JJ a pointed look. “Behave.” JJ’s response to that was to blow him a raspberry. Sending Cass a nod he leaves the desk with his folder tucked under his arm and makes his way to the stairs.

Unfortunately it wasn’t that simple. He should have been expecting something to happen really considering that nothing is ever easy with the kid, it’s only thanks to his reflexes and instincts that he hadn’t been impaled by the dagger JJ had just been eyeing up moments ago.

The weapon is now lodged in the wall in front of him from where Dick had luckily dodged it. The situation takes a moment to process in his mind and once it does he spins back around to witness JJ giggling hysterically and a wide-eyed Cass who had a hand over her mouth in shock. She’s clearly just as caught off guard by JJ’s actions as he was. Dick takes a deep breath and steadies himself, at least it didn’t actually hit him, not that the sentiment really helps with anything.

Deciding it’s really not worth it, he continues his journey to the stairs and proceeds to climb them, but not before grabbing the dagger buried in the wall along the way. JJ is Cass’s responsibility now, one he’ll happily pass over to her.

The last thing Dick hears when he gets to the top of the stairs is JJ calling out to him in between giggles.

“Bye bye Big Bird! See you soooooon!”

[disappearinginq]

Kacey and Jamie Dutton and also JJ and John B :))

ooo, playing dirty now, eh? My answer in four parts: Kayce Dutton from Yellowstone:

First impression "You're the pretty one - and wow - a lot of people just die around you"

Impression now "Ooo, look at you - the youngest AND the peacemaker and despite you being the one with the most issues, but holy MOTHER OF GOD, DOES TROUBLE FOLLOW YOU"

Favorite moment Hmm. Toss up. I love Kayce, so pretty much every scene with him is a favorite, but probably between him snickering under his breath when Jamie is being Jamie with the tribal police and Rainwater in season 1 and Jamie had to come and pick him up. I mostly like it because Kayce is a very solemn character until then, and while you get that he loves his family, he's not a generally happy person in life right now; and season 4 episode 2 when Kayce trails his father out to the hot springs and lectures him on "If you die on the way home, i am not burying you out here, I'm taking you to the family plot so I can sit on your grave and tell you I told you so".

Idea for a story This is going to count for Jamie too - a fic when they're both younger but post Evelyn's death and before Jamie leaves for college, they go out riding to get Kayce's mind off the funeral and the memory of his mom dying in his arms, except (because it's me) Jamie gets injured and Kayce has to deal with the trauma of having a loved one almost die in front of him again.

Unpopular opinion That he and Jamie are the only Dutton siblings who actually seem to like each other; and while Kayce is an awesome character and I love him, he does not think things through most of the time

Favorite relationship :-D Him and Jamie, and probably him and Tate. I would've liked to see him and Lee a bit more

Favorite headcanon That Kayce had to join the military to figure out that his childhood falls under "traumatic" and "emotionally and physically abusive" Jamie Dutton from Yellowstone:

First impression Wes Bentley! YAY! Followed shortly by "you're the smart one, and I will love you - it is decided"

Impression now I think finding out that he's adopted was the best thing that could've happened to Jamie - between deciding that it was part of the reason why John always treated him different, and knowing now that John was never going to let him run the ranch (even though he's the only one who seems to have a clue how it's run on all fronts, not just cows and horses), and I just want him to have a good life with his chosen family. I like that as the super smart one with the most "fancy" to him, he still likes being in the bunkhouse, he doesn't treat the "help" like anything other than equal people, he likes doing the day to day, and I think he would prefer running a ranch over being a lawyer. And to me, that's really cemented in there when he buys his own place and his bio dad tells him to get 4 wheelers instead of horses and Jamie looks a little crushed and is like "it's not ranching without horses".

Favorite moment Oooo, hmmm. Probably in the fourth episode of season 4 when Kayce comes to him for help tracking down the info for the guy who put the hit on the Duttons and Kayce tells him "I love you" and Jamie says it back, looking a little stunned that Kayce still feels like they're family. Runner ups: when he is introduced and tells the state to fuck off for trying to declare eminent domain against the Yellowstone, and that if they want to build, build up; and when he meets his kid.

Idea for a story Same as the one for Kayce; possibly one where I try and decide what John did to him to make him the only Dutton kid convinced John would kill him if he messed up.

Unpopular opinion If we're going to rank bad things that characters on the Yellowstone have committed, Jamie falls into the 'least bad' category. I mean, I think Kayce killed four people in the first two episodes. Beth (I love her, but she is a deeply flawed human wrecking ball who is a modern Antigone and as selfish as they come) ruins peoples' lives for funsies. Rip kills people and throws them off the side of cliffs. The entirety of the bunk house lynches people (more than once). Don't get me wrong - I am totally onboard for 99% of their actions. I just think it's kinda unfair to say Jamie is the worst for something he did when he was a kid, and for being the only one who feels guilty for the one person he killed. (wow. that's a lot of murder in a family).

Favorite relationship Him and Kayce. I love them. And I have a sneaky suspicion that I will love Jamie and his son, because Jamie looks so disbelievingly happy when the mom hands the baby to him.

Favorite headcanon Either John did something horrific, or Jamie witnessed something horrific that made Jamie think/understand that Jamie was expendable and that he is truly afraid for his life around John, because Jamie doesn't stand up to his dad at all and physically runs from him when John is angry. John B. from Outer Banks

First impression "You're a himbo"

Impression now "You're definitely a himbo. But goddamn, you're simultaneously the luckiest and unluckiest sonofabitch alive."

Favorite moment Any time where he succeeds wildly at not dying just through sheer squirrel-y-ness and dumb luck - like stealing the cruiser from Shoupe. Also possibly the scene in season 1 when he yeets himself on the bike over the chain and lands in the street.

Idea for a story Hmm. Possibly one where he finds out Big John is still alive and just flips shit over everything he has had to do in the last three months to stay alive without his dad.

Unpopular opinion John B can kinda be a shit friend when it comes to picking between the girl or his friends. (but hey - he comes through when it matters)

Favorite relationship Even though I just said he was a shit friend, my favorite relationship is between him and JJ. Because part of what I say probably makes him a shit friend is him just taking JJ for granted - like "Of course JJ is gonna manage to steal his dad's boat so I can flee to Mexico with my girlfriend" because he's known JJ for so long and knows him so well that it's a "Well, duh" moment for him. Because John B is the only one who seems to know JJ is actually stupid smart.

Favorite headcanon John B has decided, even if he does become rich, if his friends don't leave the Cut, neither does he. JJ Maybank from Outer Banks:

First impression "Why hello...."

Impression now The dumbest smart person ever to be written on TV. Yeah, he doesn't know the difference between French and Spanish, but that kid with all of 90 seconds of planning, comes up with a successful prison break for his bestie, and the only thing that really goes wrong is he breaks the wrong person out. With maybe a minute, he comes up with a plan for 5 teenagers to take over an entire tanker ship from adults with guns. And he SUCCEEDS. Except for Rafe, who is the only one to give the Scooby Gang the credit they deserve and gets super suspicious.

Favorite moment Do not ask me why, but it is still the first episode when he gets flipped off the front of the Pogue at high speed and when he bobs to the surface just goes "I think my heels touched my head" as he floats there, and I just...crack up every time I watch it. Second favorite: season 2 when they're in the shipping container and he tells Kie that the only lifer asperation he has is to be a surfer down in South America and live on the beach eating what he can catch. That boy sounds so...wisftul, like he knows it's a pipe dream, even though it's just to be poor somewhere else.

Idea for a story "How JJ First Meets the Pogues" - each time how JJ first meets all of the Pogues, because it's never said who gets them together, JJ or John B, and I like to be contradictory and say it was JJ who found them all.

Unpopular opinion Ummm....is there an unpopular opinion about JJ? I'm not a fan of the woobie-fied view of him in a lot of the fandom where he's just this passive character who needs someone to come and save him. No. JJ is a storm with skin.

Favorite relationship Him and John B - they're brothers without the DNA, and I love that they can get angry at one another and fight and still 100% still be besties.

Favorite headcanon The reason why he hates the cops and doesn't trust them is because CPS has been called on him many, many times, and every time, they return him to his dad where it's worse than before.

[glowingspence]

Extended family

[What if Cat had Spencer's child and Spencer is left to take care of it? At least he has an old friend to help him.]

Paring: Platonic Moreid

Word Count:1878

Ao3

Chapter 3:

“Do you think this is a good idea?” Savannah whispers late at night a few minutes after Derek slipped into bed with her.

“What is?”

“He needs more than our help, he is traumatized.”

“We will get him some, I promise.” Derek turns on his side facing her. “You are okay with this right?”

“More than okay, believe me I know how much he means to you and I know how much you missed him.” Comforting Savannah lets her thump run over his cheek. “And I did too”

“I-”

“Yes go over” She shoots him a knowing smile

“Thank you” Derek kisses her on the lips before getting out of bed again, walking through the corridor towards the room Spencer is staying in, who the moment Derek lays down on the free side opens his eyes and scoops away. "Just me" He pushes Derek away as fast as possible before laying down again. "I am here if you need anything."

They get woken up by the babies cries and Derek takes the kid and walks towards Spencer's bedside for him to take it but Spencer turns around and covers his ears with his hands so Derek leaves the room with him, changing his diapers and making him a bottle while Spencer is curled up on the bed, crying because he knows this is wrong, he knows he should be there for Theo but he can't. He can't move from his spot, he can't stop the tears.

In pain he wraps his arms around his stomach, pulling his legs up and just hopes that this is somehow over soon. That this was a mistake. That someone fixes this. That someone will tell him that he doesn't have a baby. That this was all wrong.

“You aren't my mom” A small voice appears at the bedroom door making Spencer flinch and seeing a boy standing in the doorway. Holding the door handle with one hand. “What are you doing here?” He walks closer to the bed while Spencer buries his face further into the blanket but doesn't take his eyes off him. “Hello?”

“Your mom is in the guest room.”

“Why? Who are you?”

“Spencer” For a moment the kid is quiet but then climbs onto the bed kneeling down beside him.

“You are uncle Spencer right?”

“No”

“I don't know another Spencer.” He states and then goes to pull at the blanket.

“Hank don't” Savannah steps in, grabbing her son under his armpits and carrying him off the bed. “Our guest is still sleeping so we leave him alone.”

“His name is Spencer”

“I know, it's Uncle Spence.” She tells him with a smile.

“He said he isn't uncle Spencer.” Hank tells her.

“If he doesn't want to be called that we need to respect that okay? But he is the man we told you about. Daddy's friend.”

“I know mom. Dad has a picture of him on his phone.”

“And what did I tell you about looking at our phones?”

“Dad lets me sometimes.”

“Alright, go brush your teeth and put socks on the floor is cold and then we can go downstairs together. There is a surprise.”

“Another one?”

“Of course, go on.” She waits for Hank to run out of the room before approaching Spencer. “You okay?”

“Want my baby?”

“You want him up here?”

“Please”

“I am gonna tell Derek okay?” Shyly Spencer nods, burying his nose in his blanket. “Why don't you sit up and lean against the headboard? This way you can hold him? Or we can lay him next to you?”

“We can?”

“Of course”

“I’d rather sit up”

“Whatever you want. You will figure out what is most comfortable and what makes you two feel safe.” She watches Spencer push himself up leaning against the headboard.

“Do you think I will know too?”

“Why wouldn't you?”

“You know- you know because- I don't know.” Nervously he plays with the blanket on his legs. “People say autistic people lack empathy.”

“And others over empathize-”

“Pretty boy?” Derek interrupts him, Theo in his arms as he steps into the room. “Good you are awake, do you feel up to taking him? Believe me there is nothing like baby cuddles in the morning.”

“We just talked about it” Savannah encourages Spencer, not being able to take her eyes off the baby. “Remember when Hank was this adorable? Now he knows the whole list of swear words.”

“And who's fault is that?” Derek questions and walks towards Spencer. “Here take him.”

“Hey you” Spencer whispers as Derek places him in his arms and then goes quiet just looking at him not really sure what to do.

“He ate good, can't say the same about his old man.” Derek jokes, placing a hand on Spencer's shoulder that he quickly shrugs off. “What do you wanna have for breakfast, kid?”

Nervously he pulls Theo closer to himself, watching him reach for him while Savannah gives Morgan a subtle clue to take things slower.

“Mom who is the baby?” Hank interrupts the moment and walks into the room to see better.

“That is uncle Spencer's baby, come here kiddo” The boy runs over to his father letting him pick him up. “This is Theo”

“Hi Theo”

“We are gonna have to be really careful with him okay?”

“Yes because he is a baby” He states and then leans down.

“Ask first, please.” Derek reminds him, being aware of the fact that Spencer has besides the name hardly a connection to Hank.

“Can I come closer please?”

“Yes but be careful.” Spencer whispers and Derek lets his son down who crawls towards Spencer and kneels down next to his legs facing him.

“Can I touch him?” Hesitant Hank leans forward, his hand hovering over Theo’s head. “Spencer?”

“He nodded, sweetheart.” Savannah helps him out. “Spencer doesn't like looking into your eyes, so you gotta pay attention after asking a question. The nod was meant for you.”

“I look people in the eyes.”

“I know, pretty boy. But you don't when you are already overwhelmed. She was just helping.” Derek calms him, knowing that Spencer isn't going to take everything Savannah says as a good thing when in his mind Savannah is probably a huge reason why Derek left the BAU.

“I know.” Spencer snaps causing Hank to flinch back.

“Alright, why don't we leave you alone for a little bit?” Derek suggests. “I am gonna go downstairs and make breakfast with Savannah, you just send Hank down if you need anything okay? He is gonna keep you company, right buddy?”

“Yes” Hank exclaims and leans forward gently moving his hand over the baby's head. “His hair is so soft!”

Spencer looks up at the child hovering over his son as Savannah and Derek leave the room to give them some privacy.

When Henry was born Derek thought the fact that JJ made Spencer his godfather is a nightmare because he thought that children in combination with Spencer's autism won't go along which was something that turned out to be a worry he wouldn't have needed to have because children are a lot more sensitive. Especially when they grow up with it it's just normal to them so Henry has actually always been someone to just click with Spencer.

“He is only eight days old so you have to be careful.”

“I am already four!”

“You were this small ones too. I saw you at the hospital when you were born.” Spencer tells him and gently guides Hank's hand away from Theo’s face.

“Can I hold him too?”

“No”

“Is he heavy?”

“No” Spencer shifts a little bit, concerned about what Hank will do.

“Why can't I hold him?”

“Because it's a lot of responsibility and I said no.” Theo moves in his arms, making a small sound ones.

“When can he talk?”

“We don't know that yet.”

“When can I play with him?”

“Not yet” Anxious tears form in Spencer's eyes. “You need to stop asking so many questions. I don't like that.”

“But Dad says you know everything.” Bored Hank curls up next to Spencer against the headboard, slipping with his short legs under the blanket too. “His hands are so small, look how they look compared to mine.”

“Yours are really huge already” Spencer tells him and lets Hank touch Theo again. He is not very sure what to do with the two kids. “Hank, can you maybe not lean on me?” He questions scared that he has no right to ask that from a child. “I don't like it”

“Why not?”

“It hurts me”

“Why?” The boy asks while moving away from him.

“Because I- I have- I- we have things in our body, that tell our brain informations-and- and some of these things- are different from yours.” He tries breaking it down as fast as possible, he just wants Hank to stop.

“Why?”

“It happens.”

“Can it happen to me too?”

“No”

“Why does Theo not hurt you?”

“He makes me really uncomfortable actually. But it's okay. I have to get used to it.”

“Did Daddy have to get used to me too?”

“Believe me when I say he loved you even before you were born.”

“But you don't love Theo?” The boy questions with a frown on his face.

“I will” Hesitant Hank leans his cheek against Spencer's arm. “What are you doing?”

“Getting you used to me too.”

“Derek just called.” Emily announces and steps back into the conference room. “Spencer and Theo are with him and his family, he is going to take them in until everything is settled.”

There is a relief on the team's face, all of them having seen Spencer at the hospital. Especially Luke and JJ tried to support him there but he has been on autopilot, just trying to keep his baby safe from Cat and what she might have planned.

“Spencer will obviously have some time off.” Emily continues, “but if that changes any time soon I expect everyone to be supportive and not to judge him. Derek is doing what is best for both of them and he told me that he will do everything so the kid gets raised with Spencer in his life, he just doesn't know if it's gonna be like the average single parent household. And he asked me to tell you this because he knows that Spencer takes a lot of reassurance from you guys and the last thing Derek needs right now is someone pressuring Spencer into loving that child because Derek is convinced Spencer does already but will need some time.”

“Is he- is he accepting him?” JJ asks hesitantly.

“Derek told me Spencer was protective over him yesterday but once they got cleared up and showed him that they aren't gonna hurt his child, Spencer started to keep his distance for a while. But it has only been one day home with him and he just needs time.” They all stay quiet for a moment before Emily speaks up again, “The Morgan's are aware that this might not be situational, if it is what Spencer needs, they will raise the kid. Theo won't be left alone, no matter how this ends, he will have a loving family.”

[imagineaworlds]

I Love You (Part Fifty-Five) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing. PTSD. Depression. Mentions of a hostage situation, shooting, murder, suicide, physical trauma.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 10,588

Timeline: Season 8 Episodes 13. Right after part fifty-four.

Criminal Minds Discord Server

Before the front door was even closed, Hotch grabbed my waist, and he pulled me into a hug so tight I thought my lungs would collapse. To be fair, after a moment of being caught off guard, I started squeezing him back with every ounce of strength I had, too. It had been such a long, stressful day. We did everything we could have to help Reid, but it wasn’t enough. I had sat across from him in our house just that afternoon, promising him that Maeve would be alright. I told him that she was going to survive for him, and that he would get to hold her in his arms, just as Hotch and I were holding each other that night. But I lied. Maeve… She… Well, she wasn’t as lucky as I was. When I was taken, I practically knew how to get myself out of it because of my training, but Maeve had been waiting around for her knight in shining armor to come rescue her.

Watching Reid break down over Maeve’s body, refusing to even touch her because he didn’t get to hold her while she was still alive… I couldn’t help but think about the contrast between them and us. I remembered when Hotch found me, he broke down out of happiness and relief. He was so glad that I was safe, that I was alive, and that we were going to have a baby. We were lucky because he got to hold me in his arms again, kiss my lips as much as he wanted, to say “I love you” until his throat was sore. We got another chance together, whereas Reid and Maeve didn’t even have their first chance. It all felt unfair.

For some reason, I almost wished that I could trade places with them, just for a bit, so that they could be holding one another like Hotch and I were, so that they could kiss each other for the first time, so that they could look each other in the eyes and say “I love you”. Even though I didn’t want to lose Hotch in a million years, it almost felt like we had stolen some of the time that Reid and Maeve deserved— even though that wasn’t the case, realistically. It just felt like it should have been them standing there, relieved to be with each other. Spencer had been through so much. He deserved to be happy. He didn’t deserve this mess. He should have been able to hold Maeve…

Hotch’s arms constricted around me more and I sort of felt his knees buckle. He nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck, breathing through his nose against my skin. I heard him sniffle lightly as a cold tear drop ran from his cheek and onto my neck.

“I’m here,” I cooed to him, pulling at the ends of his hair. “You’ll never lose me.”

That wasn’t guaranteed, though. For all I knew, I could have been lying to Hotch, too. Maybe someone would take me again, and they’d actually have the balls to end me. Maybe someone would take Hotch and I would be left to raise our family on our own… The thought made me want to throw up. I hadn’t put it in perspective like that. It was easy to think about dying— painful, but still easy. To think about losing Hotch randomly now, with our growing, happy family… My head started to spin, and I started to cry. I couldn’t lose him.

Hotch’s arms moved around me so that he could sweep me off my feet and cradle me close to his chest. I let him lift me off the ground, one of his arms sliding under my knees, his other one holding my back up. I kept my hold on his neck, letting him hug me as hard as he could as he slowly dropped to his knees.

We had all lost so much— Hotch more than anyone. But Reid had been through so many traumatic, unfair events. It all started with Tobias Hankle, and everything since then seemed like an attack on him, too. This… How was he supposed to recover from this? How were we supposed to help him?

That empty question kept me up all night. Hotch and I hardly even made it to the couch, still cuddled in each other’s arms, eternally grateful that we could be together. Nothing needed to be said. Nothing even needed to happen. We just sat in silence, listening to each other’s breathing, feeling the way our hearts beat in our chest, thinking about how things could have ended much differently in Hawai’i. All this time, we took each other for granted. We took our daughter for granted. If I hadn’t acted as quickly as I did when they took me on our honeymoon, and if Hotch hadn’t found me as soon as he did, then it was entirely possible that he wouldn’t have me—or neither of us would have our little ray of sunshine. We weren’t going to forget this. I don’t think anyone on the team was going to forget. Ever.

----

No one heard from Reid for about a week, and after an extremely tough case where everyone was still trying to reach out to him, I decided to head over there with Scarlet. I figured that he would be willing to see me if she was with me. After connecting the way we did during Maeve’s kidnapping, I thought that it was worth a shot. Maybe he would talk to me. If he wouldn’t reach out to his closest friends, like JJ and Garcia, maybe he would at least open up to someone who wasn’t as emotionally involved. It was easy to do that sometimes. Opening up to our loved ones was difficult because we never wanted to be judged or ridiculed by the people we knew best; but opening up to someone who was practically a stranger, like a therapist or someone on the internet, felt freeing. Since Reid and I had never been close, we hardly knew anything about each other. I’d said it before, but that was no one’s fault. It happened naturally. But now that he was suffering, and it was clear that he needed someone to talk to, I decided that I would at least try to be that shoulder he could cry on.

I adjusted Scarlet on my hip as I headed up the steps to Reid’s apartment. JJ had given me the address after I told her my idea, and she agreed that it didn’t hurt to try. When I reached the top of the steps, I stopped after noticing all of the gift baskets gathered in front of his door, all unbothered and unopened. I cocked a brow. That wasn’t right. Why were these all here, and why hadn’t Reid at least taken them inside once he knew no one was just outside, waiting to bother him? Was something wrong? Nothing felt wrong. But maybe that was why he hadn’t been in contact with any of us since Maeve’s death.

I stepped over the baskets to urgently knock on his door. “Reid, are you in there?” I leaned around Scar to get a look at the gift baskets, noticing the huge pink, cursive print that read: To Reid, From Garcia. I smiled lightly. Oh. I knocked again. “Reid, wellness check.” Nothing. “Sound off or I’m coming in.”

“Here,” I heard him respond weakly.

I let out a relieved sigh. “I brought Scarlet. Do you want to at least talk to her, if you won’t talk to anyone else?” I heard shuffling inside, the sound of a heavy piece of furniture being dragged around and books being kicked out of the way. And then the door opened. There was only enough space for Scarlet to fit through, so I caught the hint. “Okay.” I helped Scarlet down to the ground and held her tiny hands as she struggled to slowly waddle into his apartment. The door shut on my face the second Scarlet was inside. I scoffed. “I’ll be sitting out here, I guess.” I turned and slowly crouched onto the ground, groaning as I did so, catching myself before I could topple over after my foot hit one of the gift baskets Garcia left. I inspected it carefully. There was chocolate, containers of cherries and nuts, and stupid miniature figures from Doctor Who. I looked at Reid’s door while asking, “Hey, Reid, do you mind if I snack on some of this stuff?” I waited a moment for an answer, but nothing came, so I decided to just go for it. There was too much there for him to eat on his own, anyhow.

Halfway through a bag of Hershey Kisses, my phone started ringing. I leaned to the side so that I could grab it out of my back pocket while still chewing on the piece I had just popped into my mouth moments prior. Aaron Hotchner. I sighed as I answered the call. With a full mouth, I said, “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he answered honestly, “I just wanted to check to see if you got through to Reid.”

I looked over my shoulder at the door to see that there still wasn’t any movement or noise. “Well… He opened the door and let Scarlet inside, but he kept me out.”

“He let Scarlet in?”

“They really connected the day Mae—” I stopped myself. “He’s always been fond of her, baby. You remember when she was born. He had just lost Emily, and hearing that we named our daughter after her… I think something just clicked for him.” I trapped the phone between my ear and my shoulder so that I could unwrap another piece of chocolate. “He’s so good with her, baby. You should have seen him that day.”

“You don’t think it’s weird?”

I shook my head somewhat, still keeping the phone trapped. “Not at all. I think he’s just lonely.”

“But the whole team—”

“I think he needs someone impartial, Aaron.”

He sighed on the other end. “You’re right.”

I smirked. “I know.”

“When do you think you’ll be home?”

“Whenever one of them gets too tired or fussy to keep hanging out with each other.”

“E.T.A?” he teased.

“Not available.”

He laughed. “Fair enough.” I could hear him pouring himself a drink in the background, probably a glass of bourbon since the case we had gotten back from last night was a doozy, and his reward was a few drinks here and there whenever we made it through one like that. “I’m worried about him. I don’t want him to leave the team.”

“I know… I don’t either. But it’s his choice, Aaron. If it were you in his shoes, what would you do?”

“You know what I did.”

“Yeah, but you had me there to pick up the pieces. I mean, now, if you were in his shoes today—”

“Stop,” he demanded quickly. “Please.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologized sincerely. I reached to grab a gummy bear. Garcia had really outdone herself with all of these custom gift baskets that she clearly put together on her own. “It’s just been on my mind.”

“Mine, too.”

The steps just ahead of me started creaking, giving me a heads up that someone was coming. I looked up to see Morgan’s bald head slowly appear. I laughed to myself at the thought, watching as more and more of Morgan began revealing himself to me until he finally reached the top stop, at which point he looked over and spotted me. We both froze. A smile grew on his face, too. We both looked guilty when we realized that we had been caught coming to check on Reid, even though we knew that it was potentially futile.

“Baby, Morgan just got here. I’m going to have to call you back later.”

“Okay,” Hotch said, “call me when you’re on your way home.”

“Of course. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

I hung up on Hotch, leaning to put my phone back into the pocket of my pants. As Morgan sighed and sat down next to me on the floor, I handed him a handful of chocolates. He silently thanked me. We both started snacking on the chocolates, crumbling up the small tin foil wrappers and piling them up between us. I rested my head on Morgan’s shoulder.

“He’ll only see Scarlet,” I whispered.

“Well, the kid’s always liked talking to kids,” Morgan whispered back. “He’s the only one who can get through to the child victims.”

“I know.”

“He would have made a great dad one day…” He threw a wrapper angrily at the wall opposite us.

I scrunched my brows together. “He can still—”

“Not after that.”

“I refuse to believe that.”

Morgan chuckled lightly. “You’ve always been an optimist.”

“And you’ve never been a pessimist. So, what gives?”

“Nothing.”

“And I refuse to believe that,” I teased.

Morgan looked down both sides of the hallway to make sure no one was around or eavesdropping. “You know how I’ve been teaching those Academy lessons on Saturdays?”

“Yeah, you make Prentiss go.”

“Yeah, I do.” He nodded. “Has anyone told you which drill I make my cadets do the most?” I shook my head in response. “Home invasion where an entire family is being held hostage. One adult male, one adult female, one son, one baby. Care to guess why I do that one the most?”

My shoulders fell and my eyes softened. All this time, I had been so caught up in the fact that, as Jack and Scarlet's parents, it was mine and Hotch’s responsibility to take care of them and protect them. I never stopped to ask myself how Morgan and Prentiss possibly felt responsible, too. Morgan was the one who first took the initiative to befriend me when I joined the BAU, and we had been best friends since. We had always been protective of each other, but that came with the territory of being field partners, friends, and now he was the godfather of Scarlet. He probably felt an immense urge to protect us because we were his family. I couldn’t stand the idea of facing another Foyet incident, but Morgan was likely terrified of it happening, too, because he didn’t want to be the one to find us.

“There are nights where I can’t sleep,” he explained, “because I have nightmares about what could happen if something bad happens and I can’t save you. You were the first person I had ever met who understood what I went through as a kid, and you were the only other person I knew that was just as damn stubborn as I was to not admit it. You were the one who held me when I found out that Garcia had been shot. You were the one who made sure that I was okay in New York, even though you were the one we should have been worried about. I was the shoulder you cried on for months after Haley’s death because you didn’t want to worry Hotch or make him more upset than he already was. And then Hotch called to tell me that someone took you in Hawai’i, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I worried endlessly every day that you were gone. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t think about anything other than finding you because I wanted my best friend back. I wanted my partner back. I wanted my sister back. And when we found you, I was so relieved. It felt like I could finally breathe after holding my breath all my life because you were safe, you were in Hotch’s arms, and you were still fucking worried about me even though you shouldn’t have been. And then when Scarlet was born…” He choked on a light sob. “And you asked if I would be her godfather, I made a promise to myself in that moment that I would never, ever let anything happen to you guys ever again. You and Hotch have been through too damn much, and I can’t risk losing my partner again. So that was why I slept on your couch almost every day when Hotch was gone. I didn’t want to get a call in the middle of the night, calling me to a crime scene that looks eerily similar to all the shit we see at work, only to find that it’s you, Jack, and Scarlet. I couldn’t bear the thought, so I stayed as close as I could. Then when Hotch came back, and I knew I couldn’t sleep on your couch forever, I had to start working towards being efficient as hell in a situation like this. I look at family annihilator crime scenes all the time, and— you’re right, all I see is you and your family. But I don’t let it wear me down or distract me. I let it encourage me to do better, to try to stop those guys before they can hurt anyone else. There are times, though, sugar, like what happened with Maeve, and I can’t help but feel pessimistic. We’re supposed to help people like Maeve. We’re supposed to help families like yours. Yet we seem to fail nearly every time—”

“We don’t fail.”

“We’re always too late,” he argued. “That’s failing.”

“You know… Every time I’ve almost lost Hotch, I thought I was going to die. I’d see him in pain, and I’d struggle to even breathe. Those people we help… At least we’re making a difference in their lives so that they don’t have to know what that feels like.”

Morgan shifted uncomfortably while reaching for a candy. “Hotch struggled when you went missing. I’ll never forget that.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t really understand what it was like. Hotch’s reaction to seeing you hurt was worse than how Reid reacted, and he didn’t even lose you entirely. Reid was capable of holding himself back, of biting his tongue and regressing into silence while Maeve was still missing. Hotch, on the other hand, had been lashing out. He was so angry, so upset, so lost without you. The only thing he could focus on was finding you, and even then, he needed someone to keep him on task the whole time. But he found you, and he was so relieved, and he was himself again. He won for once and we could all tell that he was so grateful. But Reid lost. He didn’t get to feel that relief. It’s going to take him a very long time to recover from that. A long, long time.”

The doorknob suddenly creaked, causing Morgan and I to both jump to our feet. We stood at attention, shoulder to shoulder, watching as the door opened ever so slightly. My attention was lowered when I saw Scarlet come waddling out of Reid’s apartment. I reached down and carefully picked her up, groaning as I did so and felt my back strain. Morgan watched me silently, taking notice of my struggle, something that he was likely going to point out to Hotch later before I could even get home. Great.

As I propped Scarlet on my hip, I looked back up at the door that was closing in our faces. I figured that would be it, he wouldn’t want us around any longer, so I turned on my heels like I was going to make my way out of the building, but Spencer’s door stopped just in time before it could close all the way, and I saw one of his eyes peek around the corner. Reid got a good look at me, but all we could see was his left eye and part of his cheek.

“Can we—” Reid paused to clear his throat after he noticed how quiet and high-pitched he sounded. “Can we do this again next week?”

I looked to the side at Morgan to see his reaction since I didn’t know what to say or do. I mean, of course I wanted to oblige, but his question had caught me off guard for multiple reasons. For starters, I didn’t expect Reid to say anything to us that day; and next, was he really going to be like this for another week? Was he going to be like this for months? Maybe he should have been talking to a therapist and not a baby.

Morgan shrugged, letting me know that it was my decision.

My eyes met Reid’s one eye as Scarlet tried climbing around in my arms. She was always so damn fussy, I swear. “I think we'd both like that,” I answered, referencing me and Scar.

Reid nodded to thank me for understanding.

“Hey, kid,” Morgan stepped into his view to catch his attention. “Are you okay?” Reid closed the door within an instant, shocking Morgan. “Well,” he scoffed, “okay, then…”

I shrugged at him, not knowing what to tell him, then we left, heading home together.

----

After that, we kept up with the ritual for a few weeks. Every Sunday, which was when Maeve would usually call Spencer, I took Scarlet over to his place. It was nice. They hung out, and I relaxed. He never asked me to come in, he never even talked to me. He would open the door for her, let her waddle in, then he would let her come back out whenever they got bored. It worked. She was always excited to go, and she was always wiped when we were leaving.

About a month into it, Spencer kept the door open after Scarlet went in. I finally got to see him. His fair was so long, so flat, not at all puffy and lively like it normally was. He had bags under eyes, just like Hotch. His apartment reeked, I could smell it from where I was standing, and it looked like a complete wreck. I pouted at him. He shyly asked if I could help him with something, to which I nodded and carefully stepped into his apartment.

All of Garcia’s gift baskets were empty and stacked on his kitchen counter. He had eaten through everything. Thankfully, he had eaten something, but as for showering or cleaning his apartment, I couldn’t praise him as much. There were books scattered everywhere, pages ripped out of a few here and there, spilled coffee on the table, clothes littered around. I knew he was depressed, but if I would have known that the rest of his life had fallen apart like that, I would have kicked down the door in order to help him and hold him.

Spencer kept his eyes lowered as he whispered, “Can you help me clean up?”

I nodded eagerly. “I’d love to.”

I sent him to his bedroom to go shower while I started with taking all of the trash out to the dumpster behind the building and cleaned up any spills around the place. Coffee, sodas, orange juice. It was like he knocked it over and didn’t have the energy to fix it. I knew that feeling. Then, when he came back from his shower, he and I started working on picking up all of the papers, organizing them, then collecting the books that he had angrily thrown around. He didn’t say anything. I could tell he was ashamed of his state of living, but it really wasn’t his fault, and I wished more than anything that he understood that. I was just glad he asked for help before it got any worse.

As I finished putting back the last book Spencer had thrown on the floor, I turned to see that he was sitting down on the floor and pulling Scarlet onto his lap. She giggled and poked at his face. Reid didn’t mind, though. He let her play with his curls before making a move to playfully bite at her finger. She laughed and snatched her hand away. He smiled back at her and started bouncing her on his knee to keep her laughing.

I tried biting back a smile as I sat across from them on the floor. I made sure to keep my distance because they were sharing a moment, and this was the first time I had seen Reid smile in so long, I didn’t want to take that away from them. He deserved to be happy. After everything that happened, he deserved to forget about the burdens of the world and just focus on playing with Scarlet. He was always so good with kids, too. That was why I offered that he hang out with Scarlet rather than talk to me or Morgan or someone else. With Henry and Jack, Reid always just seemed to… click with them. I looked at how he was playing with Scarlet, and I knew right then and there that he was going to be the best father one day. I wanted to tell him, but I knew that after Maeve, he wouldn’t want to hear anything about that kind of stuff. That was understandable.

He finally looked up at me and asked, “Do you know why Scarlet’s the only person I’ll talk to?”

I leaned back, stretching my arms behind me to keep myself propped up. “I have my suspicions.” But that was all I said because I wanted to wait for his answer.

It didn’t take a profiler to know that Spencer Reid was hurting, and he thought that he needed to suffer alone. He didn’t want to burden others with his troubles, and he certainly didn’t want to sit around while someone would lie to his face while telling him: “It’ll be alright” or “She’s in a better place now” or “You’ll stop hurting eventually” or some other bullshit like that. I knew that if I lost Hotch, I wouldn’t want to hear any of it. It wasn’t going to be alright, Maeve deserved to still be with him and not in some “better place”, and, honestly, he was never going to stop hurting. If she was really a soulmate—like I assumed she was—then he was never going to get over it. And I wasn’t going to sit there and lie to him. But I knew that he was scared of talking to anyone because he didn’t know who understood him like I did versus someone like Morgan who was willing to lie to him just to make themselves feel better.

“There are so many things that I wanted to say to Maeve, but couldn’t. And there are things now that I wish I could you guys, but I… I really don’t want people’s pity. I just wanted someone to talk to who would listen and not judge me. I want to be able to speak freely, to say the things I wanted to say to Maeve, to admit the things I want to say to the team, and… and I’ve found that talking to a baby is the best way to do that. You know, she’s still so young that she’ll sort of listen while she fusses in my arms, which helps distract me from wanting to cry all the time. And she doesn’t really know how to say anything except for ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ and ‘curls’.”

“Curls!” Scarlet cheered while leaping forward to reach for Reid’s hair.

He laughed and let her pull lightly on the strands of his long hair. “Like that.” When she started pulling too hard, he tickled her stomach to get her to let go. In a fit of laughter, Scarlet felt weak, collapsing in his arms while trying to fight him to make him stop. He gave up after a few more seconds. “I talk a lot about Maeve with Scarlet,” he admitted to me. “I talk about how much I miss her, and she listens. I’ve been telling her stories about our phone calls— her favorite one is the one where Maeve told me she loved me for the first time. It’s my favorite one, too. But, most of all, I’ve just been talking through my feelings with her, and it’s helped tremendously. Is that pathetic?”

“No,” I insisted quickly. “I’m glad that you’re at least getting the chance to talk to someone. It’s never good to bottle things up, Spencer, you know that. Talking to someone—even if it is just a baby—is a good first step towards healing. I’m proud of you.”

Scarlet started throwing a tantrum because she was getting tired and wanted to go home, so I let her fall into my arms while cradling her and cooing her to calm down. I wanted to stay with Reid more than anything… but duty called. The baby wanted home, and I had to give in. So, I stood, and Spencer saw me to the door. Though the hallway was just there, and I could tell that he was eager to be alone again, I turned to inspect him one more time, and I pushed his curls out of his face with my fingers. He let his eyes flutter shut.

“I’m proud of you, Spencer. Truly.”

His lip quivered as he tried to hold a sob back. Before I could see him crack, though, he practically shooed me out of his place and shut the door on my face. I sighed and looked at Scarlet. She was already asleep in my arms, sucking on her thumb while snoring. She was so like her dad.

When I got home, I found Jack passed out on the couch with his homework on the floor. Hotch was sitting with him on another cushion, reading the news on his phone. I leaned over the back of the couch and kissed his cheek. He smiled and turned his face to look at me before pressing a kiss directly against my lips. After we parted, he reached to take Scarlet from me. With my arms free, I stretched. He chuckled at me as I walked around the couch so that I could sit with him, stopping so that I could take a chance to kiss Jack and tuck him under a blanket, then I collapsed against Hotch.

“He let me in today,” I said. Hotch couldn’t believe it. “We cleaned up his place. I don’t think he’s okay, but he will be.” I nuzzled my head against his side.

“I didn’t want it to be him,” Hotch whispered.

I cocked a brow at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Out of everyone on the team, I didn’t want it to be him who had to go through what I went through.” He looked at me. “He’s so young… and he’s alone… He has no one to fall back on. He still doesn’t understand the world, and he doesn’t even understand himself. At least with Haley—” He stopped when Jack squirmed on the couch while yawning and rolling over. When we were sure that he was still asleep, Hotch continued. “At least with Haley, I had you, I had Jack… and I understood myself and the world enough to understand what was happening and why it was happening. But Spencer… He doesn’t have any of that. He’s like my family, Y/N, and I didn’t want it to be him… Anyone but him.”

I didn’t know what to say to any of that.

Hotch flung his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side, then he kissed my forehead. I nuzzled against him. After spending the afternoon with Reid, I realized even more now just how lucky we were. I didn’t have to worry about missing Hotch. I didn’t have to kill myself over the fact that I wouldn’t get to hold him ever again because he was there, and he was holding me, and I was his, and we were watching our children sleep peacefully. Just to make sure it was all real, though, I grabbed Hotch’s free hand and kissed his knuckles.

“I love you,” he whispered against my hair.

“I love you more.”

He chuckled. “I’m not sure that’s possible.”

“Don’t make me get all cliché on you, Agent Hotchner.”

As we chuckled again, we relaxed and snuggled against each other, but we didn’t fall asleep. We couldn’t. It was too hard to rest while knowing how easy it was to lose everything. It reminded me of how we were after Haley died. We were paralyzed, but at least we had each other to get through it, and we had Jack to encourage us to get better. Spencer had no one. Spencer didn’t have a loved one to lean on, he didn’t know how to open up to people, and he didn’t know how to deal with his emotions. It was going to destroy him.

------

criminal minds family: @peggy1999 @gorgeousdarkangel @alex--awesome--22 @oceaneblu @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322 @rousethemouse @sunshinepower17 @weexinling @pettttyyyc​ @Braty-angel

[hotchley]

heyy sumayyah! firstly: i'm so sorry you got hate asks >:( some people really can't be nice... that sucks. i'm back with my hc to (maybe, hopefully) distract you/cheer you up!! just saying, it's LONG and it's kind of angsty in the beginning lmao sorry oops, but it gets a little better towards the end!! i promise!!

tw mentions of (bad) eating habits, very briefly implied abuse/domestic violence and alcoholism, brief mention of almost-fainting!!

so my own horrible eating habits got me thinking of Hotch who already doesn’t eat that much because of how he was raised (on his father’s bad days, his mother wouldn’t even be able to get up to make food and his father would be batshit drunk anyway, so no one made food and there’s nothing at home, and Hotch is too young and doesn’t know how to cook for himself, and that just carried its way into adulthood even after he learnt to cook (for Sean, because Sean is a growing boy and still has to eat and he would do anything to make sure Sean grows up happy) and even after he gets together with Haley, who always has to check in on him to make sure he's eating properly)

like, man would throw himself into his work, sometimes not on purpose but because he just was so intent on finishing just one more document, and time just slipped by and when he looks up again it’s 8pm, the bullpen’s almost empty, and then he realises that he actually hasn’t ate anything since he had his morning coffee. and after especially bad cases (Vincent Perrotta, Carl Buford, Tobias Hankel, that case on the pig farm, Foyet, etc.) he just, avoids food on purpose, distracting himself by finishing all the paperwork he has, even if they’re not urgent, sometimes even completing the team’s paperwork (as much as he can) just because he feels like he’s failed them. the team doesn't deserve to be bogged down by all these bureaucratic issues but he does, because what good is his role as their unit chief if he can’t even shield them from the evil out there, if he has to send his team into the abyss every single time and every time someone else gets more injured/fractured, and the least he could do is to help out the team with what he’s best with, right? all those behind-the-scenes, messy, cutthroat politics, because it’s okay if he takes the brunt of the scrutiny of the brass and if he could he would not even let the team relive what they’ve been through because they don’t deserve that, they don’t deserve having to recount their traumatic experience in a bloody report that will eventually just be filed and chucked aside but will leave emotional and mental scars on his agents that will never be erased.

or sometimes he’s just stressed out and anxious and food just really doesn’t go well with his stomach, and he opts to skip meals entirely - he drinks coffee only because he still needs to keep awake, to make sure he’s paying full attention on all these cases and victims and his team who deserve his 120%, and because his stomach’s been conditioned to accept coffee no matter what (over 10 years of being in the BAU after over another 5? years as a prosecutor, where he drank coffee like his life depended on it). and sure, he’s lost weight, his ribs slightly showing when he raises his hands to reach for things/take off his sweaters, sure he’s looked a little more gaunt and tired as the years go by, sure he’s had some almost fainting spells in his office after a long day without food, where his vision just blacks out for 5 seconds after he stands up and he has to clutch onto the edge of his desk to stabilize himself, but it's okay to him, because he must be the strong, stoic, reliable leader for his team and he can’t faint in his office, not when the blinds are open and the team can look in and when he knows that Derek, Emily and Spencer are all looking in concerned because he hasn’t left his office all day

and i’m just also thinking about how the team would just, do their best to feed him??? like, when they stop for gas on long road trips to/back from cases, he always doesn’t buy anything besides a coffee (black, as usual, with just a dash of sugar and cream on good days) for himself, but then JJ passes him an unopened nutri bar which she claimed she bought earlier for herself but now 'doesn’t feel like eating anymore', Dave silently hands over a cookie (chocolate chip, his favourite) and stares at him with his eyebrows raised until Aaron accepts the cookie and actually eats it, Derek slips a wrap into his hands somehow and offers to drive because 'Hotch, you gotta finish your wrap', Spencer casually asks Hotch if he can help him finish off this sandwich which he bought but cannot finish, and Hotch looks down and sees a perfectly fine egg and ham sandwich which hasn’t even been bitten into, but Spencer’s looking at him with those eyes (he thinks of Jack and how strikingly alike his sons they are) so he takes the sandwich and eats it, Emily openly challenges him and says ‘here’s the bag of chips i owe you, you better finish it all because i took the trouble of actually getting them or else’ and he goes along with it because he’s learnt that arguing with her is sometimes equivalent to arguing with Penelope, and that mostly ends up with him going along with both their ‘suggestions’ in the end anyway, and on the rare cases where Penelope goes with the team out into the field, she always packs homemade cookies and cupcakes that are so wonderfully bright and colourful, like everything about her, and when she gets to him with those sparkling hopeful eyes and says ‘I made these myself, come on, have a taste and let me know what you think?’, Hotch can’t help but accept it because he doesn’t ever want to disappoint Penelope and make her sad, because her bubbly and innocent demeanour reminds him of Jack and he would never do anything to kill that bright light that is Penelope

aND I’m getting some big emotions. imagine all the subtle (& not so subtle) things the team does just to make sure he eats (regularly) which may include and are not limited to: inviting themselves over to Hotch’s house for homecooked meals (Spencer, Derek), inviting him & Jack out on outings or playdates which most often than not end with them at restaurants where Hotch eats because Jack needs a good role model on healthy eating behaviours and he’s got to be that for Jack (Derek, Emily, JJ), or just showing up at his house/office to leave him baked goods/cooked meals that were always somehow ‘extras’ or ‘leftovers’ (JJ, Penelope, Rossi, Spencer) i'm sorry this got so long!! it was written a little over a month ago when i was procrastinating on my literature essay in the middle of the night, so i got a little angsty LOL. i hope this distracts you somewhat from the horrible ask you got! take care of yourself! sending love and hugs <33

🌙

Putting my answer below the keep reading for scrolling x

Aww thank you for sending it!! When I saw I had an ask, I really thought it was you, and then it was that stupid anon and I was like: Oh okay then... I have to go eat dinner so....

Ohh... his childhood... the poor kid would've been so much smaller, but so determined to do everything for Sean because that's his little brother and he loves him more than anything... I love Haley though <3

He would so do that though. He would tell himself he could eat once he's done something- which is really unhealthy, if you're reading this do not ever withhold food, if you're feeling hungry just eat something it doesn't matter what it is because something will always, always be healthier than nothing- and then he would pick something else up and the cycle would repeat...

He would convince himself the coffee is enough, that there's nothing wrong with his habits because he's never done anything different, but he would know deep down that it's not right. But he still wouldn't eat anything because he knows it'll make him naesous either way.

The worst part is what are the team meant to do in that situation? They can't force him to eat... as much as they may want to, they can't...

YES! The team would have a tally chart of who last had to make Hotch eat, so they would have a rota, and occasionally (all the time actually) they would deviate from said rota and then they would all look at each other and then laugh because eh, it's fine!

That ending was so cute, I love them <3

Noo!! Don't be sorry it go so long, I love it so much!! I might have to work it into a fic... wait... one of them may have referenced JJ giving him in a sandwich, unless that was only in my head lol

[purple-scarf-mistress]

How to Save a Life

Spencer Reid x Jamie (my oc)

TW: ⚠️ suicide attempt ⚠️ Angst- Hurt/Comfort (This is why I chose to do my OC and not a y/n I think this could be triggering enough as is and I will not add to that by having it a y/n situation. Hope y’all don’t mind)

Note: inspired by my sad thoughts while listening to How to Save a Life by The Fray and doing the dishes today. This may not be my best fic but something that was cathartic to write. Wrote this a year ago and never published on Tumblr, but has been on other sites, please do not be worried about me. I am much better.

Work Text:

Ever since Jamie held a dying little girl in her arms and did everything she could to keep her alive till the paramedics came, she had been different. The warm welcoming light in her green eyes had become muted and distant. When the team finally got to Jamie and found her desperately trying to bring the little girl back, Hotch had to physically lift Jamie away from the body so the rest of the team and the coroner could do their work. It wasn’t until Morgan found Jamie's discarded gun and the killer shot in the head just a few yards away in another room that they realized the whole story.

Spencer had arrived at the scene late driving in from the station. He had seen Jamie covered in blood and staring off into the distance and knew something traumatic had happened. When he wrapped his arms around her she hadn’t responded. She didn’t avoid eye contact with her boyfriend either but her gaze was glassy, she was in shock. Nearly catatonic, Spencer took her back to the hotel and cleaned her up. She wouldn’t eat, talk, or sleep. The Jet ride back to Quantico seemed too long for the short flight that it was, with Jamie sitting pin straight on the couch not responding to anyone talking to her.

It had been several days since then and Jamie had gotten a little better it seemed. She still only spoke in one-word answers and only when someone asked her a direct question. Everyone on the team was worried about her but let her have her space. Jamie was warm and often times she was chatty, especially when she and Spencer went toe to toe for statistics and weird random facts of the day. The team and Spencer both missed the fiery personality the little redheaded girl brought into the office.

Spencer had been exceptionally worried about her but trying his hardest to support her from a distance. A few nights ago, Jamie asked Spencer for some space and told him she was going to go back to her own apartment. It wasn’t like her at all, and Spencer pressed her on if she was okay and it only escalated into them screaming at each other before she stomped out in a rush slamming the door behind her.

The next day Spencer apologized at the office and secretly took some of her paperwork to make it up to her, and to help her out. Her days at the office mostly consisted of zoning out while looking at the one open file in front of her. Until one day she came in and it was like the world had shifted back into place just a little bit.

“Spencer, I want you to have this.” Jamie handed Spencer her favorite book.

“Jamie, this is a first edition, it’s your favorite book and quite possibly your most prized possession, why would you give this to me?” Spencer asked, smiling slightly at the book in his hand.

“I love you, Spencer, and I love this book. I want the two things I may love most in this world to always be together.”

Spencer stooped down to kiss her cheek, “Ready to go to dinner with the team?”

“Actually, I uh, I am going to skip dinner tonight. I have….. Some work to catch up on.”

“Well I will skip too then, I can help you catch back up.”

“No, Spence, go have fun with everyone tonight, okay? Please, I need to do this on my own.”

“Stubborn as ever. You win. I am glad you are feeling better love.”

Jamie stood up on her tiptoes to hug around Spencer’s neck not caring about how affectionate she was being in the BAU office. She buried her face into his neck taking a long deep breath before letting go and walking out the door. Running his hand over the cover of the book, Spencer couldn’t help but think something about this was odd.

Morgan came up behind Spencer and clapped his hand down on his shoulder, “I hope you are once again ready to be defeated by chopsticks, the ladies picked were going to Chinese food.”

“You know according to a 2014 study 23% of people can’t use chopsticks with another 24% of people never having tried them to begin with?”

Morgan rolled his eyes walking out of the office and got into one of the cars with his friends.

“I am so glad Jamie is feeling better! She was so cute today, she gave me her sketchbook with all these cute drawings of all of us!” Garcia beamed holding it up.

“Yea I was surprised. She seemed so down lately and today she was so tender. She must have told me 10 times today that I was such a good “Big Brother” and to make sure to always keep that going, to promise her I would never stop that” Morgan smiled thinking about how it was the first time he had seen her smile in a couple of weeks.

Spencer’s brow furrowed listening to the team talk. Her favorite book, her sketchbook, Don’t change promises…

Getting out of the car at the restaurant he walked up to the other team members and stopped them before they walked inside, “Did Jamie do anything special or give you anything today? She gave me her favorite book and morgan and Penelope had similar things”

“Actually yea, she gave me a copy of my first book with handwritten notes written in the margins, I thought it was a bit odd but she can be a little odd like you boy genius” Rossi teased.

Spencer blew right past that comment looking at JJ, Emily, and Hotch, “and you guys?”

“JJ and I got a picture for our desks of the three of us from one of our girls nights, I think Garcia took the picture, right,” Emily said looking at Reid confused, and then at JJ who’s face started to make the same concerned look at Spencer’s.

“I didn’t get time to talk with her today, but she left me this,” Aaron pulled an unopened card out from his suit jacket that said to Dad on the envelope.

“Give me the keys. Morgan, give me your car keys right now” Spencer didn’t wait to take them from his hand and running out to the car.

“Spencer, come on man, what’s going on?!”

JJ’s face looked deathly pale, “She was saying goodbye. She was saying goodbye and we missed it”

Spencer was speeding down the street dialing Jamie’s phone, frustrated every time her voicemail chimed on instead of her actual voice.

“Come on, pick up, pick up,”

“Hi, you have reached the voicemail for Dr. Jamie Daniels I can’t come to the phone right now so please leave a message after the tone”

“Dammit!”

Spencer weaved in and out of traffic and double-parked the car outside of her apartment complex. He ran up the stairs and threw the door open. On the kitchen counter was a notepad with a short note scribbled onto it. Spencer looked for Jamie finding her in her room laying on the bed with her wrists slashed open in long vertical cuts.

“No, No, no! Love, please!” Spencer wrapped each of his large hands around Jamie’s wrists and leaned his full weight on them.

Jamie’s eyes fluttered open, “Let me go, Spence…If you love me let me go”

“No! I am not going to let you die!” Spencer felt tears falling down his cheeks. He was panicking. If he let go of her wrists to call for help she would bleed out, but if he just stayed like this he was going to lose her anyway.

“What do I do …. Oh, God, Jamie… What do I do?!”

Jamie’s eyes started to flutter shut again. “I love you…”

Spencer shook his head clearing his mind of the horrible scene that played out in his mind and ran after Jamie. He took the stairs two at a time and met her at the bottom floor of the office just as the elevator opened.

Panting Spencer smiled seeing Jamie and opened his arms for her to find her way into a big warm hug.

“Love, I love you okay? I love you so much that I would be devastated if anything happened to you and I know you have been hurting. I know you needed some space but please let me blow off dinner with everyone. I just want to spend tonight with you snuggled in my arm? Please”

Jamie’s eyes blinked away tears keeping her face buried in his chest. She nodded her head slowly.

“Thank you” she whimpered softly into her chest.

“For what love?”

“For coming after me. Maybe we can talk tonight… about what happened and about what I’ve been thinking?”

“I’ve got all night and the rest of our lives to listen to you talk about anything you want. I love you.”

Spencer kissed her forehead and lead her out to his car.

[yougivemebutterfliessss]

We gonna ignore the fact that ghostie isn’t my main account but 150 :)

-saarah

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @ghostiewriter 🥳🥳🥳 ur old now congratulations. So you though could stump me with this vague prompt “make up your own” IM SORRY OKAY I thought giving something vague for Christmas prompts would make it EASIER. Anywho I have a secret weapon and her name Annie. Big shout out to @yellowlaboratory for turning my traumatic story of puking in a school bathroom during a track meet into a hilarious fic idea; please enjoy this unedited 🙈crack Drabble akdhsjdhsjdh

“You want me to call your priest?”

Track had always been a JJ and Kie thing. In sixth grade she’d decided they need to keep active during the winter and that indoor track would be the perfect way to do it. Not only was it during the months where there was no surfing, but it was a sport she could actually do with her boys. She just needed to convince them to do it. Pope was an immediate no, too much homework and John B was insistent on trying out for the basketball team, his dad used to play or something. Which left JJ, who for whatever reason picked joining track with her over joining basketball with John B. She always figured it was because he thought she needed him more, seeing as John B could make friends with just about anyone. Or maybe she was overthinking it and JJ just thought that track sounded more fun; either way, she’s glad he did.

They had long bus rides together, traveling to the mainland so they could meet up with other schools, spend the whole ride there laughing and joking and talking about nothing in particular. She snuck extra snacks into her lunch box so that she could share with JJ, forcing him to eat “healthy shit” like apples and granola bars. (she was quite pleased with herself for that one) They would normally fall asleep on the way back, wake up half on top of each other and not talk about it afterward. She would aggressively snap, “No” when people asked if they like each other and JJ would just grin widely like it was the funniest joke in the world.

He was annoyingly good too, at pretty much everything. If the coaches were down a person they could just throw JJ into that event with a little bit of practice and chances are he would at least place. He was mainly a sprinter and a jumper though, same as Kie. A lot of her favorite memories came from the three years they ran track together. In eighth grade however, things got more complicated because suddenly Kie also had to deal with her period.

She wasn’t one to let that hold her back, but long track meets after school definitely made things more difficult, but it was manageable. Until of course, it wasn’t, which long story short, led to Kie being doubled over on the gross floor of another school's bathroom feeling like someone was digging a knife through her lower abdomen and hoping she doesn’t start puking again. She wasn’t sure how long it took for JJ to find her, walking with his hands over his eyes, judging by the sound of him running into a stall door.

“Yo Kie, you in here?”

“Down here,” she groaned from her spot on the floor not wanting to shift from her position to face, any movement at all made her feel nauseous.

His eyes widened as he crouched down beside her, “Wow, shit. You okay?”

“Do I really have to answer that question?” She muttered with an eye roll, but even that felt weak.

“Right sorry. So did you like catch a bug or somethin?” He asked, backing away from her like she might be contagious.

The last thing Kiara felt like doing at the time was explaining the nuisances of period cramps to a thirteen year old boy so she just muttered, “girl stuff,” and the movement was enough to have her heaving into the toilet again.

“Holy shit,” JJ muttered softly, sounded shocked for reasons Kiara was in too much pain to care about.

“Are you pregnant?”

Kiara choked on her puke, managed to turn her head enough to face him.

“What?”

JJ ran a hand through his hair anxiously, not even seeming to have heard her, talking mostly to himself as he mumbled, “I’m not ready to be a dad.”

“We haven’t slept together you idiot.”

JJ’s went wide with realization. “You slept with someone else,” he exclaimed with what almost sounded like betrayal in his voice.

Kiara didn’t have time to respond before the aggravation at his absolute idiocy had her hanging over the toilet boil again. JJ shifted down so he was squatted beside her, held her hair back as he rambled on.

“So who's is it? No- no you don’t have to tell me that, I don’t even care who’s sperm it is I’m here for you Kie. He’ll be like my kid anyway. Or she. Duh.”

Kiara squeezed her eyes shut in disbelief, didn’t have the energy to turn her head to him as she hissed out, “JJ.”

He raised his hands in surrender, “Okay, okay, I get it, too much,” then added hopefully “I'll still be uncle JJ though right?”

“It’s no one's sperm you dipshit!” She cried, momentarily forgetting the pain in her abdomen as she turned to him.

JJ just blinked at her for a few seconds before responding with a dramatic gasp, a small spark in his eyes as he whispered, “Virgin Mary?”

Kiara groaned in disbelief, pulled her arms up to the toilet boil and rested her head on them, too exasusted to care about the unsanitariness of the situation.

“Does this mean I’m gonna be Jesus’ uncle?”

“JJ if you don’t shut the fuck up right now the next time I puke it’s gonna be on you.”

He backed up immediately, “okay okay point taken. I mean come on that one was kinda funny though.”

She didn’t look up, but she could easily picture the smirk on his face.

“Can you please do something helpful and go call my dad? I left my phone in my bag.”

JJ perked up at that, jumping to his feet. “Right, I’ll be right back, I’ll let the coaches know you’re puking too. Oh and do you want a water? Gatorade? Maybe Pepsi?”

“Water’s good.”

He was sprinting away before she could say thank you. Kie curled up on the floor, giving about zero shits about how dirty it was, anything to make her stomach hurt a little bit less.

JJ returned a few minutes later with water and her phone in hand. Announced, “Kie I can’t find your dad’s contact,” as he handed her the water.

She groaned inwardly for thinking she was funny when she made her dad’s name in her phone.

“Oh uh call Father Mike.”

JJ looked up at that. “You want me to call your priest?”

“No that���s my dad,” she responded with a sigh.

“Your dad’s a priest?”

She sat up and opened her mouth to respond but the movement sent another wave of nausea over her and she found herself back above the toilet boil.

“Should I start confessing my sins before or after you finish puking?”

Kiara fixes him with a glare as she pulls away. “It’s a joke. He put his dad in his phone as Father Joe so I put him in as Father Mike. It’s like imagine there was a comma, like ‘Father, Mike’.”

JJ furrowed his eyebrows as he considered that beforing saying. “You really should add the comma. It’s very misleading.”

“Can you just call him?” She asked, her voice almost pleading at this point.

JJ’s joking tone shifted at that, “right. Yeah of course.”

After that she felt well enough to let JJ help her back to their teams set up in the track building, where she could lie down on blankets instead of a cold floor. JJ still had races and events to do, but he ran back to check on her after every one and each time she would assure him that she was fine and that she didn't need a babysitter, but secretly appreciated how concerned he was. And in hindsight, the Jesus jokes were kinda funny, at least Pope and John B thought they were.

[marvels-agents100]

the thing about love

volume I

sure, it could hurt you, baby, but give a little try

pairing: aaron hotchner x gender neutral ! reader

warnings: gore, death, blood, aaron is sad and traumatized, reader is shot, the usual,,, reader attempts to seduce a man at one point

word count: 14,685 (grab a snack, babes)

author’s note: welcome to  s l o w b u r n  central, also, this is currently my pride and joy, my lil babey, please love her

You knew he wasn’t yours to have. His heart had left him long ago, locked in a box in the back corner of his closet, leaving behind a dark void between the cobwebbed bars of his ribs, his burdened breaths a soft echo inside his chest. The only love, the only care he felt he was really capable of was the love he held for Jack. And yet, he laid in bed every night and wished the silk of his sheets would cover him completely, swallowing him into wherever he went when he fell asleep, locking the door behind him and losing the key. The guilt alone was eating him alive- how dare he feel exhausted for loving his son?- and it never left his mind, no matter how focused he was on a case. The lack of compartmentalization was something that would take time to get used to.

You saw it on his face, every time the glass door to the BAU swung open with the push of a heavy arm, every time the lines under his eyes became darker and deeper, every time he sighed like the sorrow and darkness that plagued his mind had leaned upon his shoulders once more. It killed you to see the weight he carried every day; you couldn’t begin to imagine how he felt. What completely broke the beat within your chest was how much you wished you could help, yet you knew he would never let you.

That was, until he did.

You had joined the BAU after Elle left, also specializing in sex crimes. The team is your family, your life, and everything in between. You watched them rise and fall, love and lose, laugh and cry. And every time one of you needed help, the others were there to support each other. It was a beautiful, wonderful thing, the BAU. And that beautiful, wonderful thing also included a certain Aaron Hotchner. Most of the team were too intimidated to ever really try prying into Hotch’s psyche, especially since Hailey died. However, one particular day, you couldn’t stop yourself.

Your knuckles tapped gently on the door to his office, your ear close to the wood, listening for a response. The blinds had been drawn the entire day, and hours had passed since the rest of the team had departed. If you didn’t know better, you would worry if Aaron was even alive in his office.

“Come in,” his voice rumbled, the words slipping past his lips with a small sigh.

You opened the door cautiously, first looking inside, then fully stepping in. It shut behind you with a soft click, Aaron’s eyes never looking up from the file before him. His left hand lazily dragged out a signature along the bottom of the page. Your arms tightened around the small stack of files you held in your arms- a compilation of yours, Spencer’s, and Emily’s.

You cleared your throat softly, “Hotch,” you greeted, a polite smile on your lips as his gaze finally flickered up to you, “this is all the work from Spence, Emily, and I on the Atlanta case.” 

“You can leave it on the table there,” he gestured towards a small end table with his pen, before returning to his writing, “thank you.”

You nodded, setting the stack of papers down softly, stealing a glance at him before turning and making your way back to the door. Your hand hesitated as it reached for the knob, your heart begging you to turn around and talk to him, comfort him, absolutely anything to just help him.

He noticed your hesitation, your frozen stance by the door catching his attention. He sat up fully, his pen dropping on the desk as his brows knitted together.

“Is there something else, (Y/L/N)?”

Your outstretched and hovering hand slowly closed to a fist, your eyes shutting as you realized there was no way to play this off without him being suspicious. You turned to him, meeting his gaze and trying to keep from caving under his intense stare.

“Actually,” your hands ran down your pant legs, and you found yourself finding a seat across from him, “there… there is.”

He leaned forward on the desk, his expression still studying you, but his voice softening as he recognized how nervous you were, “What’s going on?”

“Sir,” you began, having trouble meeting his eyes, “I don’t want to overstep, and I know you’re a private person, but you’ve been in this office all day with the blinds shut and the door closed and- well, I’m sure I speak for the whole team right now- but we’re worried that you’re not okay, and if you wanted to talk- not that you’d need to, I’m sure you can work through a lot on your own, being knowledgeable in psychology and all-“

“(Y/N).” He cut off your rambling, your eyes finally snapping to his when he said your name. He paused for a beat before continuing, “I’m sorry if I worried you.”

You sighed, trying to not be discouraged by his complete avoidance of your question.

“What’s going on, Hotch?” You asked softly. He looked down at his hands, sighing deeply.

“It’s nothing you have to worry about,” he shook his head slightly as he spoke.

“But I do. And I will. I worry, you know that.” You gave him a small smile when his gaze lifted back to you. He returned it for only a moment before it dropped away from his lips.

“It’s just…” he took another breath, “it would’ve… it would’ve been her birthday today.”

As his voice croaked out those words, you felt the beating of your heart stop. The physical ache made you drop your head for a moment, just to catch your breath.

“I’m so sorry, I-“

“It’s okay.” He interrupted you again, “I know it’s been a while now, and I’ve been able to make peace, for the most part. But, every time today comes around, or Christmas, Thanksgiving- hell, whenever any holiday comes around- he always… Jack always-“

He couldn’t finish his sentence, his hand coming to rest against the bridge of his nose, catching the tears that threatened to spill over. Your head tilted as you watched him, tears of your own beginning to gloss your eyes.

“He asks about her, doesn’t he?” Your voice was barely a whisper.

Aaron sniffled, letting a deep breath straighten his back again as he tried to compose himself.

He nodded, “Yeah, he does,” he scoffed and shook his head, “I never know what to say.” The chuckle that fell from his lips was humorless, just a sad acknowledgment of how pathetic he felt.

“God, Aaron, who would?” Your once hesitant hand reached forward and rested upon his, “You are living in a situation with Jack that no one could have prepared you for, one that no one will ever have the answers for.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” He joked, a single laugh escaping as he used his free hand to wipe away a tear. You let out a watery chuckle, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Yes, because despite the fact that there isn’t a single parenting manual on raising a kid like Jack, everything that you have figured out on your own has made him into the wonderful little boy he is.” You smiled at him, “You are an amazing father. The world deserves more dads that are like you.”

He gave your hand a squeeze, a real, genuine smile gracing his lips. A moment passed before he spoke again.

“Thank you, (Y/N), I appreciate you checking in on me.”

“We were all worried, sir.” You replied, “And we all know you don’t really talk about the dark, stormy thoughts that bounce around that head of yours,” he chuckled at that, “but, I felt like you needed to know: we’re always here. I’m always here. If you want to talk, if you want me to talk and distract your thoughts, if you just need the presence of someone in the room- no matter what it is- I’m here.”

He nodded once, eyes never leaving yours, “Thank you.” His voice was much quieter now.

You gave his hand a pat and stood, smoothing down your pants with your palms.

“Anytime.”

He stood as well, circling his desk to open the door to the office. You were close behind, stopping short when the door didn’t open. Aaron’s hand was stagnant on the knob, his eyes locked on yours.

“What is it?” You asked, a confused look on your face.

“I-“ he paused, then shook his head and opened the door, “have a good night, (Y/N).”

You nodded politely, choosing to ignore his behavior, knowing he had already made himself vulnerable enough for the night.

“You too, sir.”

***

“(Y/N), Spence, we have a case.” JJ breezed by the two of you, heading for the conference room. You were hovering over Spencer’s shoulder, his hand scribbling on the beaten pages of a legal pad. It was his idea, attempting to solve the Zodiac’s cypher. He could pick out patterns with a single glance, and you were able to add the small, less logical and structured details that his analytical mind always seemed to miss.

Needless to say, neither of you had figured anything out. It was simply a way to pass down time.

Upon entering the conference room, Spencer close behind, you found your seat between Emily and Derek. Penelope began pulling images onto the screen, her brightly colored fingernails tapping softly on her tablet. You leaned back in your chair, toes rocking it ever so lightly back and forth, back and forth. Hotch was the last to arrive only seconds later, his presence alone notifying you of his arrival. He had a way of making himself known before speaking a single word.

“Garcia,” he urged, signaling for her to begin.

“Alright,” she began, the unmistakable sunshine leaking through her words, “giddy up, cow boys and girls, you’re headed to Houston!”

You had to hold back your giggle- it sounded like she was pitching a dream vacation.

“Unfortunately, it’s not to attend the rodeo, but to find who killed these three men in the past month.” Three pictures flashed onto the screen, the bodies of three victims displaying before the BAU. “The bodies of Tyee, Kele, and Dakota were found three weeks, two weeks, and almost one week ago.”

“Why are we just now being called in?” You asked.

Garcia sighed, almost sadly, “Police claim to have not seen a connection, but others living on the reservation say that police didn’t try to.”

A pause fell over the room, the only movement being Derek’s head shaking slightly in disappointment.

“Cause of death?” Hotch asked, breaking the small silence.

"They were all shot once in the chest, then- and this is an image that will never leave my mind- were scalped. If that wasn’t enough gross and icky for you, they were all missing their left thumb.”

“Tyee Begaye, Kele Etcitty, Dakota Nez. All mid 30’s, all Native American, all living in the Alabama-Coushatta reservation. The similarity between them all makes me think they could be surrogates,” Morgan stated, his fingers carding through the file before him.

“What are they wearing?” Emily asked, referring to the burlap and tan clothing that, frankly, looked like a cheap and offensive Halloween costume.

“That, my lovely Emily, would be an attempt at traditional Native clothing.” Garcia replied, “Strong emphasis on attempt.”

“The scalping indicates that the Unsub is probably white, since the textbooks teach that it was purely a Native ritual. In reality, it was a white governor who offered rewards for ‘Indian scalps’.” Your fingers made air quotes around your words, “Maybe we have a white supremacist who is trying to seek some twisted form of revenge.”

“The missing thumb interests me,” Rossi thinks out loud, “is there a ritual or tradition that involves the thumb?”

“Not necessarily,” Spencer spoke, “however, the now disbanded Atakapa tribe lived along the Gulf of Mexico, until an epidemic nearly killed the entirety of the tribe in the late 18th century. They believed in life after death, and anyone who died by a snakebite, or whose corpse was eaten by another human, would be denied that afterlife.” 

“Why would our Unsub be displaying rituals from a tribe that doesn’t exist?” JJ questioned.

“That’s a question we can answer on the plane,” Hotch stood from his chair, “if our Unsub sticks to his timeline, we have two days to find him before he kills again. Wheels up in 30.”

***

Discussion on the plane wasn’t leading very far, mostly because of the lack of information the team had on the murders. It was abundantly clear that local authorities, or at least the particular officers that had investigated the murders, didn’t take much interest in actually finding who had commit them. It was incredibly frustrating, knowing that you and your team could be miles closer to finding a serial killer if prejudice didn’t stand in the way of justice.

You pushed those thoughts away, knowing that thinking too hard about it would just infuriate you. There wasn’t time to be angry, you had to focus.

“Why the outfits?” Rossi asked, “These men are clearly Native American, why feel the need to dress them in stereotypical clothing?”

“It has to be a part of the fantasy,” JJ answers, “they look like they’re characters from a western.”

“What time period was traditional clothing like this worn?” Emily inquired, her eyes never leaving the file in front of her.

“When forced assimilation of the 19th and 20th centuries began, traditional clothing stopped being made in the name of appeasing the powers that be,” Spencer began, fingers wiggling with his words, “Most traditional, Native American fashion designers began making clothing only for certain celebrations and rituals, exclusively for personal use. It wasn’t until 1934 that the passage of the Indian Reorganization Act began to encourage the production of traditional clothing once more. The patterns and weaving we see in modern fashion today all began in 1942, when Native American fashion was featured in a high profile fashion show, and instead of being discouraged, was appreciated. Most designers use their Native roots to assimilate traditional textile with modern trends in order to reach a larger audience.”

“So clothing like this isn’t mass produced?” Morgan asked.

“Unless it’s close to October 31st, no,” Spencer answered.

“It’s August, there’s no way he purchased these almost a year ago, he wouldn’t have been able to control his urges for that long.” Emily shook her head, completely baffled.

“Maybe he’s making them?” You offered, doubt in your voice, “I mean, they don’t exactly look well made.”

“He could be ordering them online,” Hotch countered.

“Alright, alright,” JJ interrupted, “I think the significance lies in what the costumes are supposed to mean. He’s calling back to before the 19th century. What fantasy is exclusive to that time frame and involves Native Americans?”

“If we had more information on the killing itself, I feel like a lot of these questions would be answered,” Dave’s voice was laced with frustration. 

“I agree,” Hotch began, “Prentiss, Morgan, I want you to talk to the ME, try to find absolutely anything that wasn’t reported. David, (Y/L/N), go to the newest scene and see if you can add to the reports as well. Reid, JJ, and I will go set up at the station, start interviewing families and the officers that were on the original scenes. We need to get all the information they neglected to share,” Hotch directed, approving nods coming from the rest of the team.

“And if they try to stop us?” Morgan asked, Hotch giving him a confused look.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“Look, when I was with the Chicago PD, I saw this kind of prejudice within my own precinct. Bad cops won’t stop being bad cops just because we’re in their jurisdiction.”

Hotch paused a moment before speaking.

“Our job is to build a profile and catch whoever is doing this,” he began, “and we are going to do that, even if a bad cop- or anyone, for that matter- tries to get in our way. We’ve dealt with worse than this; I have faith that this team can still perform successfully.”

Morgan nodded in agreement, but you knew he still had his doubts, “Yes, sir.”

You all had dispersed through the jet, Emily and Spencer fiddling with a chess board between them, Morgan and Rossi both listening to music and staring dramatically through the window, and JJ flipping through her file in her own space, reading and rereading every word until her eyes ached. It was a habit, she knew, trying to memorize every detail of the case in order to justify her decision to present it to the team. Although choosing cases was no longer her responsibility, she still found herself with the guilt of not being able to help every person whose name was written in manila files on her desk. 

You sat across from Hotch, him close to the window, your feet propped up on his unused armrest. You hummed lowly to yourself while glancing over the file, fingers tapping against the manila to the beat of your voice.

“You know,” Hotch spoke up, “if you ruin this seat with your shoes, it’s coming out of your paycheck.”

Your humming stopped and your eyes snapped up to him, catching the small smirk on the corner of his mouth, the smirk that he tried in vain to play off as he kept his gaze trained on the open file in his hand. A smirk of your own tugged at your lips, the papers in your grip falling lazily into your lap.

“You mess with my check, Hotchner, and I will consider you an enemy,” You threatened, your finger pointing at him to emphasize your words.

He shrugged casually, eyes lifting to meet yours, “I’ll add you to the list.”

Your angry resolve broke, a chuckle leaving your lips. Although his joking caught you off guard slightly, it all was oddly comfortable. His shoulders weren’t tight like they usually were, his eyebrows weren’t tensed, and his frown had disappeared. Usually, his rare humor would throw the whole team for a loop, but when it was just you and Hotch, there was just something so natural about it.

“Yeah, put my name right between ‘going to bed at a decent hour’ and ‘smiling’.” You retorted, narrowing your eyes and giving him nothing less than a shit-eating grin. 

His face dropped from the sly smirk to stone-cold in a split second, causing your smile to grow even wider.

“How did you know that?” He asked quietly. You laughed then, a full, joyful laughter. You didn’t see how his smile had returned, and his softened gaze stayed trained on you.

“I guess you could say I’m good at my job,” You replied, wiping under your eye as you caught your breath.

“Now that,” he pointed at you, “is something I can’t deny.”

You smiled again, but genuinely. It almost made you blush, him inadvertently saying that you were good at your job. He didn’t compliment people too often, but when he did, it was always completely genuine and special.

“But I will still make you pay for this seat.”

“Yeah, okay,” you giggled, waving your hand dismissively at him.

***

The crackle of dirt and gravel under your soles mixed with the bustling of law enforcement around you. Rossi walked close by, both of you stopping as you reached the true crime scene. He sighed deeply as his eyes scanned over the red stain in the terra-cotta colored dirt, trying to not think about how little the uniforms around him cared about the life that stain had once provided.

“It’s pretty desolate out here,” you stated, purposely keeping your eyes up as you scanned the mountains around you, “the Unsub definitely knows this place, he’s familiar with it.”

“That means he’s probably local,” David agreed, eyes never leaving the dried blood on the ground, “(Y/N), look at this and tell me what you see.”

Your eyes finally flickered down to the blood, your hands finding home in your pockets in an attempt to hide your clenching fists.

“It’s…” your voice trailed off, your head tilting slightly as you realized what David was hinting at, “It’s… small. Dakota was shot, this all just looks like blood lost from the scalping and the removal of the thumb.”

“Which means,” Rossi added, “this is just a dumpsite. He’s taking them to a secondary location.”

“How long between the missing person’s reports and the discovery of their bodies?”

“Hours, no more than a day.”

You sighed, stepping closer and lowering yourself towards the ground, elbows resting on your knees. “So, he’s not holding them, but he’s shooting them in a secondary location before bringing them to these mountains, and dumping them.” You stood again, turning to David, “Why?”

His head shook slightly, “Possibly a forensic countermeasure. If he were to shoot them here, he could leave behind casings, splatter patterns… more evidence than what we have now, at least.”

You glanced one last time at the ground before beginning to walk towards the SUV. “I think we should get back and tell them what we’ve found.”

Rossi got into the driver’s side while you settled in next to him, a matching frown on both of your faces. You looked out the window, allowing your mind to drift away from the case. Usually, you stopped straying thoughts before they could begin, but you decided to set them free for the duration of the car ride back to the station. Upon arrival, your mind was to be strictly business.

You first thought of Hotch. You thought of the exchange you had a few weeks prior, where he opened himself up to you, even if it was just a fraction of the feelings he kept bottled up inside. Things had shifted, at least in your perspective, since then. He was more… himself. When there wasn’t a case- those few and far between days of strictly paperwork- you would find him smiling a little more, always directed at you. It was always just a tilt of his lips, just a twitch at best, but you always noticed it. He would find you in the break room, he would make light conversation. It was always professional, always appropriate in his position of Unit Chief, but you knew it was more personal. 

Maybe it was your wishful thinking, maybe it was all made up by your own habit of overanalyzing. But, the physical reaction you had whenever those small moments of warm sunshine burst through the dark curtain of SSA Aaron Hotchner, the way your stomach turned and your cheeks ignited, now that… that was not constructed by your mind. That was a real, true reaction to a man you (apparently) liked a little more than you originally thought.

“Penny for your thoughts?” David cut your wondering short, and you were almost thankful for it.

“Hm?” You acknowledged, snapping out of your daze.

“Call me a profiler,” he chuckled, “but I know when you’re thinking too hard. Is something bothering you?”

“No, no,” you denied, a small laugh leaving your lips, “just, trying to stay focused on this case.”

“Hm.” He hummed, obviously not believing you. “Is it about the 16th?”

Your eyes snapped to him, his gaze holding steady on the road in front of him. A breath of pause added to the sudden tension in the air.

“How do you know about that?”

“Anytime Aaron Hotchner cries, you can be sure that I will know about it.”

You sunk back into your chair as another beat of silence filled the SUV. Honestly, you had no clue how to talk about the situation between you and Hotch. And frankly, you didn’t know if there even was a situation, it could all be made up in your head. Telling Rossi that you have the hots for your boss wouldn’t fix any problems you currently faced, it would only create new ones.

“I just want to see him happy,” you whispered, keeping your eyes forward.

“He is happy-“

“I mean, truly happy, Dave,” your head rolled towards him, his shoulders dropping slightly as he understood what you meant. He sighed heavily, readjusting his grip on the wheel.

“I think he lost that when he lost her, (Y/N), I don’t think he will ever go back to who he was before,” he sounded so sad, admitting that the man he considered family would never see a light he once knew.

“Maybe,” you agreed, “but that doesn’t mean I won’t try like hell to help him find it again.”

Dave glanced at you, a small smile tilting his lips up, “I think you’re the perfect person for the job.”

***

You had arrived just as Emily and Derek did, Hotch and the Captain of the station coming to meet you at the door.

“Captain McGuire, this is SSA Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), and David Rossi.” Aaron introduced. The captain politely shook all of your hands.

“Thank you all for coming,” his words were borderline disingenuous, but you smiled politely and let it go.

“We’ve got some news to share,” Dave said, turning towards Hotch. He responded with a nod before turning and leading the four of you to the Houston PD conference room, where Spencer and JJ were already waiting. Everyone stood around the table, unable to sit down with how uneasy the case felt.

“Everything here is just as you would imagine,” JJ began, clearly irritated, “these officers didn’t care enough to properly investigate these murders.”

“All of the families said that our victims were well respected, got along with other people, nothing too out of the ordinary,” Hotch added, his arms crossing over his chest as he looked at the evidence board.

“Dave and I think they’re being held in a secondary location,” you stated, everyone’s eyes turning to you. Your gaze met Aaron’s as you continued, “There wasn’t nearly enough blood at the scene for a man to have been shot there.”

“Forensic countermeasure?” Hotch inquired.

“That’s our guess.”

“Well,” Emily sighed, “I guess that makes more sense. The ME said the scalping and thumb removal was antemortem. The last step of his fantasy was shooting his victims. This guy would need somewhere to torture his victims without anyone hearing it.”

“I had Garcia do a search for any trespassing or squatting complaints around the mountains where the bodies were found, just to see if any witnesses saw the Unsub while he was disposing of his victims. There wasn’t anything significant,” Spencer chimed in.

“I’m starting to think this guy has more experience than we might think,” Morgan said, “he’s able to abduct, control, and torture grown men, then dispose of their bodies quietly.”

“What does that mean?” JJ asked.

“It means there’s probably more victims,” Hotch was storming out of the room as he spoke. You were close behind him.

“Spence, call Penelope, have her start digging!” you quickly spoke, hurrying to keep up with Hotch. You weren’t sure why, but you knew he was furious. He must have put something together before you.

“Hotch, Hotch!” You hissed, jogging lightly to catch up to him. “Aaron!” You finally stood in front of him, his angry steps halting before he could run you over, but his glare still trained on the door to Captain McGuire’s office.

Your hands hovered in front of you, level with his chest. You scanned his face, seeing nothing but anger in the way he glared over your shoulder.

“What is going on?” You asked quietly, teeth clenched together. It was then that his eyes flickered to you for a fraction of a second, a deep breath leaving his lungs. His shoulders lost some tension and his eyes closed, his attempt at calming himself clearly visible.

“We know this station is riddled with cops who don’t care about justice for anyone of Native descent,” he began, his voice low and dangerous, “how many people have died without justice? How many were at the hands of the same Unsub we’re trying to catch?”

“Hotch,” you tread carefully, “believe me when I say I am equally as furious as you. However, you, of all people, know that storming into that office right now will only cause more problems. We are surrounded by people who don’t care if we leave here successful or not, and the Captain may be a part of that group. We need to be smart about this.”

He huffed, but he knew you were right. It was a bit out of character, him getting so upset without being able to control it. He noticed that since Hailey had died, his emotions were a little stronger and a little harder to control, especially when it came to his job. His need for justice made him do things he would have never done when she was alive.

Was it a fault or strength?

“How do you propose we do that?” He asked, his voice more gentle than before.

“Let me go in there, break the news,” you offered, “if that man is anything like who I think he is, I could bat my eyes and get anything I want from him.”

Aaron’s gaze shifted from you, to the office, then to you again. “Okay,” he finally agreed, “in and out. Be careful.”

“Yes, sir,” you grinned, turning and walking towards the Captain’s office. You glanced back over your shoulder, seeing Hotch in the same exact spot you left him. Sending him a small wink, you reached the door and let yourself inside.

Hotch took another deep breath as you disappeared into the office, once again trying to calm himself. He had faith in you, he knew you could handle yourself, but the thought of that man- any other man, in fact- looking at you in the way he knew that Captain was going to look at you… well, that made him furious all over again. It was completely inappropriate, he knew, but he knew it wasn’t something that was within his control. He had just been feeling a greater sense- a greater need- to protect you, to make sure you were okay. He, himself, had a lot of questions about it. Why was he feeling this way? When did it start? Am I even able to feel this way again? Of course, he didn’t have any answers to his own questions. It always seemed to be that way. So many questions, all unanswered.

Despite his better judgment, he turned towards the conference room, fighting the bubbling anger in his chest.

***

The door clicked closed behind you, Captain McGuire’s eyes shifting from his paperwork to your face, then dragging down your body. You cleared your throat, your heartbeat already picking up slightly. You weren’t nervous, you knew you could take him down in a second if need be, but the way he looked at you like you were an object almost made you see red.

“Agent (Y/L/N), please, have a seat,” he gestured to the chair across from his desk.

“Thank you,” you spoke quietly, sitting down and crossing your legs, “I just came to discuss something quickly.”

“Of course, what is it?” He leaned forward on his elbows, a sign that he did, in fact, like you. You already knew that, of course, but the confirmation did make you a bit more confident.

“You see, we seem to think that this particular Unsub didn’t start killing three weeks ago. We think there’s previous cases,” you kept your voice soft, playing up an innocence you found that all men had some form of attraction to. 

“With all due respect, I think I would remember a case like this.” He held his hand up as he talked in a way of dismissing you. You knew you could either snap at him and get kicked out, or play along and possibly get what you want. You had to feed into his ego.

“Oh, absolutely,” you agreed, uncrossing your legs and leaning forward, elbows resting on your knees. It gave him a full view, so to speak, and his eyes shifted exactly here you wanted them to. So predictable. “I would never insult your intelligence like that, sir,” he seemed to perk up at that nickname, “we’re just asking that you do a review with your officers, maybe someone will remember something they didn’t before?”

His eyes met yours again, and he had to clear his throat before he talked.

“Anything you need,” he was trying to flirt back now.

“Thank you, sir,” with a smirk, you stood and walked out, feeling the eyes of Captain McGuire follow you the entire way. As soon as the door was completely shut, you felt a chill run down your spine and you let yourself shiver. 

You really hoped your flirting would get you something.

***

“Garcia, I need you to look for any cases within the Houston area that might be linked to these,” Spencer spoke into the phone.

“I already have, my little Einstein,” Garcia’s voice crackled through the speaker, “there’s nothing that looks like these.”

“They’re gonna be hidden, babygirl,” Morgan pressed, “details might have been left out in the case files. Send us anything that has even the smallest connection.”

“I’m going to need more time for that, love,” she sighed, nothing but disappointed in Houston authorities.

“Work fast for me, baby.”

“Oh, my beautiful, brown Hercules, do I work at any other speed?” She spoke seductively, earning a few smiles from the intensely frustrated team surrounding the phone.

“You never disappoint,” Morgan cooed, taking the phone and hanging up the call.

Hotch reached the room shortly after the call, everyone’s eyes snapping towards him as he entered. He looked over his team, eyebrows pulled downward, expression stone-cold.

“Are you okay, sir?” JJ asked bravely, her voice soft and understanding.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, “anything from Garcia?”

And just like that, Derek began to update Hotch on what Penelope was searching for, and all was forgotten. Hotch was good at that- making everyone forget about what he was feeling. The question he dreaded most was also the question he heard the most- are you okay? He would hear those three words and immediately have to find an escape, and excuse, as to why he couldn’t quite answer them. His feelings were ones that were felt only by him, shared only to the family picture he kept on his nightstand. It was comfortable, easy, and it kept him away from vulnerability.

He made sure he was facing towards the door of Captain McGuire while he worked, his gaze constantly flickering upwards and out the window of the conference room, hoping to find you there every time. When you finally emerged, he could tell how uncomfortable you were. You let yourself shiver, taking a moment to breathe before moving towards the conference room. Hotch made sure to meet you at the door.

“Anything?” He asked as soon as the door shut behind you. You sighed heavily before answering.

“He said he will reopen some cases and do some debriefing, but I honestly don’t think we will be getting much out of it.”

His eyes closed and he shook his head in disappointment. “Okay,” he finally spoke, “we’re on our own here.”

“Hotch, come look at this,” Derek called, pulling Aaron’s attention away from you. He hurried to Morgan, looking at the photograph held between them.

You moved towards the table and began working, praying to any God, any higher being, that something- anything- would catch a lead in the case.

***

“If I read one more file before I get a cup of coffee, I just might rip it to shreds,” you muttered, shoving your eyes into the heels of your hands. Your elbows rested heavily on the conference table you sat at, the many, many reviewed files scattered between you and the rest of the team. Analyzing them for any connections had been nothing short of tedious and time consuming.

It had been hours now, and nothing new had come to light. The sun had fallen asleep long ago, dipping behind the mountains, leaving a path of stars in its wake. The moon shone fully, the soft white blanketing Houston in a gentle embrace. You wished you could be sitting on the balcony of your apartment, staring at the twinkling of the stars and bathing in the cool air, your only warmth coming from a cup of hot tea gently resting in your hands. Instead, you were staring at pictures of dead men, trying to get ahead of a killer that was many, many steps ahead of you.

“Spence, have you found anything?” JJ asked, her voice sounding just as exhausted as you felt. 

“I’ve read every file at least twice now,” he sighed, “I’m sorry, I can’t find any connections.”

“Don’t apologize, you’re doing everything you can,” you scolded softly, pointing a lazy finger towards him.

“Thank you,” he spoke gently, a thankful smile on his lips.

Your eyes returned to the papers before you, scanning over a single sentence before you gave up, “Why are we still looking, anyways? What do you think we’re going to find when- and if- we find any more victims?” Your hands accented your words, your frustration abundantly clear.

“MO,” Morgan answered shortly, “we need to know how this Unsub started- when he was still learning how to kill, when he was discovering what he liked most. That’s when he first made his mistakes.”

“Okay,” Rossi chimed in, “but how do we know that those cases were fully investigated? What if they’re just as neglected as the three we already have?”

Morgan sighed and ran a hand down his face, looking utterly defeated, “I don’t know.”

The ringing of Morgan’s cell phone caught everyone’s attention. He answered quickly, putting it on speaker.

“What’d you find, baby? You’re on speaker,” He asked.

“I’m sorry to report that I haven’t found much of anything,” Garcia said, “I mean, there are lots and lots of middle-aged, Native American men dying- which breaks my heart into very little, tiny pieces- but nothing that fits into our timeline or modus operandi.”

“Try expanding to neighboring states,” Emily recommended.

“I already did, sweet Emily,” Garcia sighed, “nothing.”

“Alright,” Morgan sighed, eyes closing as he exhaled, “keep searching, babygirl. Let us know if anything pops up.”

“Of course,” she sounded just as disappointed, “heads up, loves, we will find something.” Morgan hung up, setting his phone down before dragging a hand down his face.

Hotch’s file flipped shut in his hands, the fluttering catching the team’s attention, “We need to take a step back. Looking over the same words won’t get us any further.”

“What do you suggest we do?” Dave asked.

“Take an hour. Get coffee, food, whatever you need,” Hotch stood from his chair, straightening his suit jacket, “I wish we could stop for the day and return tomorrow, but we don’t have that kind of time.”

You stood, stretching your arms above your head, “Well,” your arms dropped to your sides, “I’ll take an hour. Hell, I would take 15 minutes. Any time for a mental break would be beneficial, at this point.”

“There’s a 24 hour pizza shop one block east,” JJ pointed out, “want to grab a bite there?”

“I’m in,” Derek stood.

“Me too,” Spencer agreed, rising as well.

“Pizza sounds so good right now,” Emily whined.

“Only if it is authentic,” Dave wagered, “(Y/N)? Hotch?”

“If I get full right now, I will definitely pass out,” you chuckled, “you guys go ahead.”

“Hotch?” Dave repeated.

“I’m okay, thank you,” his lips twitched into a polite smile for only a moment, then it was gone once again.

“Suit yourselves,” Derek teased, sending the two of you a dazzling smile as the rest of the team left the conference room.

You dared to peek over at Hotch, watching as his eyes looked back down at the numerous open files in his workstation. He even picked one up from the table to get a closer look.

“This break includes you, you know,” you said, smirking when his eyes jumped from the page to you. He set down the file again, a sigh falling from his lips.

“I don’t think I could take a break from this one, even if I wanted to,” he shook his head slightly as he spoke, arms crossing over his chest. A small silence filled the room.

“Okay,” you sighed, “I’m going to get us some coffee- good coffee, from the store across the street- and maybe some food, then we can sit and look over some of these together. Maybe we can find things together that we can’t find alone.”

He nodded, pulling out his chair and settling into it, “I would appreciate that, thank you.”

You smiled, nodding once in his direction. His eyes were already back on the files before you had even turned to leave. Something about this case bothered him, deeply, and you were almost certain you knew what it was. 

Ever since Foyet came and destroyed nearly everything Aaron loved, particular cases weighed on his mind a bit heavier. It all came down to justice. Hotch couldn’t stand to see anyone or anything come in the way of true justice. You weren’t completely sure as to how Hailey’s death or George Foyet could have sparked this, you only knew of how angry Aaron would get now if anyone stood in his way.

You entered the corner store, heading straight to the hot coffee by the drink station. The fluorescent lighting only irritated the headache you had been fighting for the past hour, but you just ignored the pain as you came to a stop in front of the industrial sized coffee maker. You pulled two large, styrofoam cups from the dispenser, filling one to the very top with rich, black coffee, for Hotch. The steam billowing from the cup made your lips twitch up into a smile, the thought of caffeine beginning to change your mood for the better. Quickly making your own cup of self motivation, you moved towards the check out counter, the employee behind it looking just as tired as you felt.

“Just those?” She asked, finger already tapping away on the screen before her. You pulled a PayDay (Aaron’s favorite candy bar), from the small display on the counter and placed it next to the coffees.

“And that,” you answered politely, “thank you.” Your eyes wandered over the small keychains and magnets displayed on the counter. Most read ‘HOUSTON’ in large, colorful lettering, while others were decorated with horses and huge, green fields. Your head tilted as you looked, and a particular keychain caught your eye.

It was silver, sparkling subtly in the harsh lighting. You reached out and pulled it from behind the ‘HOUSTON’ keychains, the small cowboy hat resting on the ends of your fingers. Your eyebrows furrowed as you thought, becoming completely entranced by the small trinket.

“That one’s real popular,” the employee drawled, her southern accent pulling at her words, “everyone wants to be a cowboy, these days.”

“I see,” you replied quietly, still staring at the keychain. 

“It’ll be $2.38 for those coffees and candy, ma’am.”

You shook your head, snapping out of your trance, “Yes, of course, sorry.” A nervous laugh left your lips as you reached for your wallet, the silver hat falling away from your hand. Quickly handing her a five dollar bill, you grabbed the coffee cups and candy bar before she even managed to open the register. “Keep the change, thank you!”

You almost ran out the door, needing to get to Hotch immediately.

***

“Hotch!” You all but burst into the conference room, kicking the door shut behind you, “I think I might have something!”

He looked up at you, slightly startled by your sudden entrance (but he would never admit it), “What is it?” 

You almost laughed at how calm he sounded in comparison to how loudly your heart was pounding in your ears. Promptly setting his coffee and PayDay in front of him, you yanked a chair over until the armrest clinked against Hotch’s chair, then sat and set your own coffee down.

“Remember what JJ said about the costumes, on the plane?” You asked excitedly.

“Something about looking like an old Western-“

“Exactly!” You interrupted, “I might be jumping to conclusions, but the gun, the scalping, the race of our targets,” you counted your list on your fingers as you spoke, “I think our Unsub’s fantasy includes him being a cowboy. Like, a heroic, wild west cowboy.”

He nodded, eyebrows dipping as he thought it over, “That would explain the extreme sadism,” he added, “the narrative of most of those shows are cowboys versus Indians.”

“So,” you took a quick sip of your coffee, “maybe we should be looking for other murders that included any type of rope, gun- hell, even something like a horse.”

“That will help narrow it down,” he agreed.

“And! I almost forgot!” You couldn’t contain yourself, “Ranches, farms- they’re huge pieces of land that would be a very smart location to torture someone quietly.”

“We need to call Garcia,” he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket quickly, “and (Y/N)?”

“Hm?”

“Good work, really,” his hand rested on your shoulder, “but I’ve never expected any less.”

Before you even had a chance to respond, his phone was to his ear, and he was asking Garcia to narrow her search to the new parameters you had discovered. He rose and walked toward the board, looking over the crime scene photos, hand resting on his hip, as he talked. You just sat still, shoulder burning where his hand had laid, heart pounding in your ears. The warmth of his compliment surrounded you, making your cheeks hot and your mind fuzzy. A smile slowly edged it’s way onto your face, your shoulders rising as you held your coffee a bit closer, trying desperately to keep that warm feeling inside. You knew how ridiculous it was, to be sent into a full blush over a small compliment- and quite frankly, it was a compliment you heard a lot- but the mere fact that it came from SSA Aaron Hotchner, the man you found yourself think about way too often, made it all that more special.

“Thank you, Garcia,” he hung up the phone, turning to you again, “you should take a break. I can handle this by myself for a while.”

You relaxed back into your chair, taking a slow sip of your coffee, “You first, Hotch.” A smirk found its way to your lips.

“I’m fine.”

“No one ever says that when they’re actually fine.”

He just stared at you for a long moment, gaze narrowing slightly.

“You’re not going to budge on this, are you?” He asked.

“Not an inch,” the smirk never left your face. A smile of his own played on his lips.

“Fine,” he conceded, “but, as soon as Garcia calls back, it’s back to work.”

“Deal,” you nodded, “now, come sit and enjoy your coffee and candy I got you.”

He followed your orders, settling into the chair beside you (which was very close to you), and finally taking a drink of his coffee. A content sigh made his shoulders relax, eyes closing as he set down his cup.

“I never knew coffee from a gas station could taste so good,” he sighed, eyes meeting yours as a content smile settled on his lips.

“You’re welcome,” you teased, nudging his arm with your elbow.

“And this,” he held up the PayDay, “is my favorite. How did you figure that out?”

“Every old man likes PayDays,” you said cheekily, biting down on your lower lip to keep yourself from giggling. His eyes narrowed at you, but his smile only grew.

“I could put in an insubordination complaint right now,” he threatened.

You relaxed in your chair, letting out a noncommittal sigh, “Just show me where to sign, Hotchner.”

He laughed, putting the candy back on the table and shaking his head, “You’re lucky I understand your humor.”

“And it’s one of the reasons why we get along so well, Hotch,” your nudged his shoulder. 

He chuckled a bit, his smile settling on his lips. He looked deep in thought, a certain tenseness tightening his shoulders and making a muscle leap in his jaw. You looked over at his hand, noticing how it fiddled with the corner of the candy’s packaging.

“What’s bothering you?” You asked, not really expecting much of an answer. He had opened up to you before, but it had been extremely late at the time, and he was, in that moment, probably more sleep deprived than rational.

He locked eyes with you, staring for a moment before speaking, “I’m sorry you had to talk to Captain McGuire,” he looked away, “and that nothing really came of it.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured, slightly confused as to why he looked so guilty about it, “I did it because he potentially had information that would be useful to us. I’d flirt with every dirtbag in this station if I thought it could help us.”

“I know, and that is what makes you so valuable to this team,” he avoided your eyes, reaching for his cup again, “you’re able to control your own emotions in order to do your job.” He took a sip.

Oh. You thought, that’s it.

“Hotch, you had every right to be angry.”

His eyes snapped to you, unmistakably surprised that you saw through him. Well, maybe he was aware that it wouldn’t be too hard to see what was bothering him, but he wasn’t used to someone just… calling him out completely.

“I was irrational,” he spoke, “unprofessional.”

“If I was in your shoes, I would have acted the same way.” Your hand hesitantly found his arm, palm resting on his bicep and fingers landing on his shoulder. His gaze flickered down to your hand, then met your eyes once again.

“You’re allowed to be human,” you said, softly, “and sometimes, humans have emotions. That’s kind of the whole reason why we have a job.” You giggled a bit as you spoke, trying to show him how ridiculous it was to feel guilty for a perfectly natural and normal reaction.

“Did he bother you too much?” He asked, nodding towards the office of Captain McGuire. You chose to ignore how he had changed to subject.

“No, not really,” your hand fell away from his arm, feeling noticeably colder when contact was lost, “I’ve heard worse from the men I meet at bars.” You chuckled a bit, shaking your head, “You know, you should hear some of the things I say to drunk men that bother me. I think you would find it amusing.”

Of course he would, he would love to hear you put a man in his place. The feisty attitude you saved for those who bothered you was one of his favorite things about you. It never failed to make him smile, wether it was directed at someone else or- on occasion- him. Your demeanor was nothing short of soft and caring, but once someone crossed you, well… hell hath no fury quite like yours. 

“I would have to agree with you on that,” he chuckled, finally beginning to loosen up, “but, please, if any of these officers seriously bother you, tell me.”

“Alright,” you held your hands up in mock defense, “but I can’t guarantee that I will hold off on putting my two cents in.”

“I wouldn’t dream of getting in the way of that.”

“Good.” You smiled brightly. He returned it, having to look away before his face began to flush red. He wanted to just reach out and touch you- hold your hand, hug you, anything- but the thought of trying made his hands start to shake. You made him nervous, a feeling that he didn’t feel often, that he didn’t enjoy at all. But, he knew what it meant. He knew that he was far past the point of no return; the future would consist of his complete and utter falling for you. It terrified him, honestly, but it also thrilled him. He knew what love was, he knew how it felt. The ‘great love’ every one always fantasizes over, was a love he had already experienced. And God, was he determined to feel that again. Not always- he wasn’t always in the pursuit of love- but ever since he met you, that perspective changed.

But it still was frightening, the thought of loving you. He had experienced love, but he also had experienced loss. He knew that letting you take full control of his heart would be putting himself at risk of extreme, unimaginable pain. Pain that he never wished to feel again. Pain that he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. It was a dangerous, terrible gamble, the game of love. On one hand, he would be sacrificing himself in the constant war he fought with vulnerability, but on the other hand, he could mend the still broken pieces of his heart and be whole again.

The shrill ringing of your phone pulled him away from his internal battles, his brown eyes finding your (Y/E/C) ones.

“Garcia,” you breathed out, promptly answering and putting the phone on speaker. “You’re with me and Hotch, Pen, what’d you find?”

“Hello my lovely lady and sir, I have two potential victims for you,” she answered, the indistinct clicking of a keyboard in the background. “I narrowed the search with everything you gave me, then again to any murders that took place Thursday through Saturday.”

“The same time frame he’s using now,” Hotch added.

“Exactly. That search left me with two names,” she paused a moment, probably pulling up the case files on her screens, “Kenneth Thompson, 35, died six weeks ago by a single gunshot wound to the chest, and his body was found in his apartment, with his limbs hogtied, like a cow… or a little piggy.”

“His race?” You asked.

“White, which doesn’t match our latest victims, but I have more,” the clicking was heard again, 

“Carlos Dominguez, a 32 year old hispanic man, found four weeks ago, dead, by a single gunshot would. But, there are also reports of deep lacerations to his hairline area.”

“So, he tried to carry out his fantasy, but it quickly died when he couldn’t ignore that Carlos was hispanic.” You suggested.

“He always favored the shooting,” Hotch said, “but didn’t develop the hatred towards the Native Americans until his third victim.”

“Or rather, he just realized that he couldn’t use surrogates for them. He needs the real thing.”

“That explains the development of the thumb removal- if he kills Natives with the belief of an afterlife, then he can’t let them go to their version of heaven. It wasn’t necessary for the first two victims.”

“He makes them suffer, even in death,” you shook your head, completely disgusted, “thank you, Garcia.” You hung up the phone, placing it back on the table and leaning back into your chair. Your eyes eventually found Hotch, whose elbow sat on the tabletop, his jaw cupped in his hand.

“I think we need to call the team back in here,” you said quietly. He checked the watch on his wrist briefly, then returned his hand to his chin.

“They have fifteen minutes, let them have it.” He muttered.

***

Briefing the team when they returned was anything but nice. They stood around the conference table once more, as Hotch told them about the new victims and the Unsub’s MO. Revealing and analyzing the true sadism of this Unsub was something that even Emily struggled with. The more the team learned, the more motivated they were to stop him.You could see them all getting visibly more distraught the more you told them.

“So, this guy is just playing cowboy?” Derek asked, anger evident in his voice.

“‘Playing cowboy’ is a very tame way to put it,” Emily scoffed.

“How do we even go about trying to find this guy?” JJ asked, arms crossed over her chest.

“We can start with farmland,” Dave suggested, “single out any that are secluded, or on very large pieces of land.”

“Let’s call Garcia,” you said, taking your phone out of your pocket.

“How big would a farm have to be in order to be secluded enough for this Unsub to operate?” Emily wondered.

“If we take into the fact that the Unsub is probably firing a gun on his property,” Spencer began, fingers intertwining together as he thought, “and, a football field- without the end zones- are roughly 1.38 acres, or 60,112.8 square feet, I would say you would need at least four or five acres to conceal that type of noise.”

“What can I do for you, Holmes?” Garcia chirped through the phone.

“We need you to pull land deeds- look for any farms with at least four acres of land, within the comfort zone,” you said, holding the phone near your voice.

“Got it,” she began typing away, “oh, my- well, you have 143 matches, my dear.”

“You said he hogtied his first victim,” Dave pointed towards you, “Garcia, narrow it down to farms that have cow and/or pigs on them. He had to learn how to tie a knot like that somewhere.”

“You have a brilliant mind, my Italian Stallion,” Garcia praised, “we’re down to 87.”

“How many of those also have horses?” Emily asked, “Can’t be a cowboy without a horse.”

“22.”

“That’s still too many,” you sighed. Hotch laid his palms flat on the conference table, head bowing in defeat.

“We’re missing something,” Spencer mumbled, walking towards the evidence board with narrowed eyes. His head tilted as he stared at it, mouthing words to himself silently.

“What do you see, kid?” Derek asked, taking a step towards Spencer.

“The gun,” he responded, finally.

“The gun?” Morgan questioned. Before getting an answer, Reid had whipped around towards the phone.

“Garcia, the first two victims, what did they conclude about the gun used?” He spoke quickly.

“Um,” she typed just as fast, “it was registered, but reported stolen two weeks prior by 62 year old Harvey Pooler… oh no, Pooler died four days before Kenneth was killed. Heart attack.”

“Did Pooler own a farm?” Spencer asked.

“Let me… see,” a small gasp came through the phone, “He did.”

“Take a 50 mile radius from the Pooler farm and cross that with our 22 potentials.”

There was a couple seconds of typing before she spoke again, “We have a hit. Five acres owned by a Timothy Locke.”

“What do you have on him?” Emily pressed.

“He lived there his whole life,” Garcia spoke quickly, “mother died when he was young, father was… well, not the best father. Multiple trips to the ER when Timothy was still little Timmy.”

“Where’s the father now?” Hotch asked.

“Dead,” she answered shortly, “Month and a half ago, natural causes.”

“That’s right when the killings began,” Rossi observed.

“There’s our stressor,” JJ added.

“What about hobbies? Places he frequented? Anything to tie him to the cowboy fantasy,” You asked.

“Besides his ownership of horses,” Garcia clicked away on her keypad, “he was a frequent flyer of the local rodeo, even participated in it… oh no.”

“What is it, babygirl?” Morgan asked worriedly.

“This particular rodeo, well, it was more of a reenactment type of show,” she explained, “most of their ‘historical retellings’ were that of the wild, wild west. The racist, kill the Natives, wild, wild, west.”

“Garcia-“ Hotch began.

“Oh, honey, I know. Addresses are sent… now.”

“Let’s go,” Hotch said, everyone starting to hurry out of the room.

“Be safe, my loves!” Garcia called.

“Love you, Penny, great work,” you told her, before hanging up and following your team towards the SUVs.

***

The kevlar vest reading ‘FBI’ hung on your shoulders, the slight weight grounding you completely in the events that were about to occur. You glanced over to Hotch- who was staring straight at the dirt road with both hands on the wheel- then looked over your shoulder at Reid and Emily in the backseat, nodding at them slightly before facing forward once again. Your heart was already racing with adrenaline, the rhythmic beat loud in your ears.

Emily glanced out the window, eyes scanning over the seemingly endless fields surrounding the many farms in the area. It all looked so peaceful, the way the green blades stretched towards a crystal blue sky, it was almost heartbreaking that such awful, heinous deaths had occurred on the very same land.

Spencer was leaned over slightly to see out of the front windshield, eyebrows pulled downwards and lips set in a serious frown. He was scanning for a farmhouse, a shed, anywhere that someone could keep another person hostage. The three of you were already driving on the property, just looking for the specific spot where the Unsub operated.

“Over there,” Spencer pointed to the right, a small, white, wooden house coming into view. Hotch turned sharply down a dirt road that shot off the main one, hoping it would lead up to the farmhouse Spencer had spotted.

It wasn’t long before the vehicle stopped, the four of you swiftly jumping from your seats, meeting Dave, JJ, and Morgan as they also left their SUV. You looked up at the farmhouse, eyes squinting slightly from the now rising sun. It was large enough to be comfortable for two, maybe three, people, with a front porch that lead to the entrance. It was two stories, a small, round window sitting on the front and center of the house. The white of the painted wood seemed to illuminate in the orange of an awakening sun, and you could’ve called it beautiful, if you weren’t aware of the horrors that took place inside.

“What’s our plan?” Emily asked, facing Hotch.

“We’re going to do a soft entry,” he began, “Morgan, Reid, and JJ will lead in the front, Dave and I will go around the back. Prentiss, (Y/L/N), there’s a cellar to the right, take some SWAT officers with you, but I want you to clear below.”

“You got it, boss,” you nodded, turning and calling over two SWAT members.

“Alright,” Hotch drew his gun, “Let’s go.”

You and Emily moved alongside Derek, Spencer, and JJ, breaking off as they closed in on the front door. You reached the doors of the cellar, looking over at Emily. She looked back at you, smiling slightly and offering a reassuring nod before grabbing ahold of the handle on the left door. You took a deep breath and grabbed the other one, looking back to Emily once more.

“One,” she counted softly, “two… three.”

You both simultaneously lifted the doors, the two-man SWAT team moving forward, descending the stairs before you and Emily. You were close behind, guns raised. Your flashlight moved around the room, finding it to be mostly empty, save for a few cardboard boxes in the corner. You turned to your right, finding a door tucked away by the staircase.

“Emily,” you alerted, “we have a door.”

She moved over to stand beside you, “Boys, over here,” she beckoned the SWAT officers, nodding toward the door with her head.

They approached slowly and quietly, taking position on each side of the doorframe. One reached out and placed a soft hand on the doorknob, waiting three seconds before turning it and pushing it open, immediately drawing their weapons in from of them as they cleared the small room. You and Emily followed them in once again, your eyes going straight to the unconscious man in the very middle of the floor. His head hung, arms bound behind him and legs bound to the chair he was sat in. His shoulders slumped, his hair stringy, and a small trail of blood trickled down his forehead.

You rushed towards him, the light flickering on as you knelt down beside him. Emily’s hand left the light switch and moved to the restraints on the man’s hands, working quickly at the knots. With gentle pressure, you pushed your fingers on his neck, breathing out a sigh of relief when you felt a pulse beneath them.

“We need a medic in the cellar,” you spoke into your radio, keeping your fingertips against the man’s pulse and taking a silent count of how many beats passed every minute.

“Sir?” Emily asked, finally untying his hands, “Sir? Can you hear me?” She had to hold onto his shoulders to keep him from slumping completely forward.

“We found the hostage, Hotch,” you said into your comm device, “currently unresponsive, we have medics en route.”

There was no answer.

“Hotch?”

Silence. You looked up at Emily, whose worried expression matched yours.

“Hotch,” she tried, “can you hear me?”

Nothing.

“Hotch, Reid, Morgan,” you spoke quickly, “JJ, Rossi, do you copy?”

Radio silence.

“Stay with him,” you said, quickly rising to your feet.

“(Y/N), what are you-“

“You,” you pointed at one of the SWAT members, “come with me.”

“You can’t just go up there- (Y/N)!”

You ignored Emily’s protests, jogging up the stairs of the cellar, the SWAT officer right behind you. Holding your gun in front of you, you turned left, heading towards the back of the house. Reaching the back door, you slowly crept up the stairs, clearing right as the SWAT member cleared left. The first room was the kitchen, small and vintage, then you passed into a living room, with purple couches sitting in front of an ancient TV. Cowboy themed decor hung on every square inch of the walls, ranging from horseshoes to framed photographs of Western icons, such as John Wayne. You moved through the room, turning left through a doorway, which led to the entrance of the house. Pink and yellow sunlight leaked through the glass detailing at the top of the door, illuminating the staircase that sat almost directly in front of it. The SWAT officer appeared on the other side of the entryway, nodding towards you in a silent was of saying ‘all clear’. You nodded back, allowing him to ascend the stairs before you, his boots creaking slightly against the steps. 

As you neared the top of the stairs, you could hear the low voice that plagued your every thought, the voice that talked to you in your best dreams and worst nightmares, always speaking of comfort and serenity.

“Timothy, we just want to talk-“

A sickening, teasing laugh cut Aaron off, the unmistakable sound of heeled boots tapping against the floor echoing through the house.

“We both know that’s not why you’re here, officer,” a southern accent laced through his words, his voice dark and deep.

You crept towards the voices, which were carrying down the hall. One door was open, down near the end and to the right. With quiet steps, you made your way towards it. You held your hand out toward the SWAT member, having him stop a few feet behind you. Placing yourself at the edge of the doorframe, back passed firmly against the wall, you dared to peek your head into the room. 

That’s when the smell started to hit you. It was rotten, pungent, and… familiar. Your nose crinkled, eyebrows furrowing as you tried to understand why you recognized something so awful. Then, you realized.

The smell of death.

Your eyes scanned over the walls, stopping at a far corner. Hanging from the ceiling were the three scalps that were taken from your victims, a silver bullet casing tied up with each one of them. You took in a shaky breath, trying to stop yourself from hearing their screams, or picturing the way they looked as they were tortured. 

Shaking your head to clear those thoughts, you turned your attention back to your team.

The Unsub’s back was to you, JJ held firmly in a chokehold with his left arm, his right hand holding a revolver with the barrel pressed to her temple. Hotch, Morgan, and Reid stood in a semi-circle in front of him, guns all drawn and aimed.

“You don’t have to do this, man,” Morgan bargained.

“Of course I do,” Timothy Locke, the Unsub, laughed again, “if I have her,” he shook JJ slightly, “then I have a chance of leaving here alive.”

You moved your head out a little more, catching Hotch’s eye. Looking between you and Timothy, he nodded, ever so slightly. You knew what he meant, you didn’t need his words to know what you had to do.

Quickly, you switched to the left side of the doorframe, positioning yourself to enter the room without Locke seeing you.

“Putting the gun down and surrendering will get you out of here alive,” Spencer urged, clearly distraught that the Unsub was holding a gun to his best friend’s head.

“And you would love it if I did just that, wouldn’t ya?” Locke sneered, readjusting his grip on his gun slightly.

You slipped into the room silently, gun raised and steps slow. Hotch’s eyes flicked to you every few seconds, his expression- hardened and serious, but what else is new- unchanging. 

“We know what your dad used to do to you,” Hotch said lowly, catching the attention of Timothy.

“You don’t know shit.”

“We know of the hospital visits, the broken bones. We know that you were left alone with him after your mother died,” Aaron’s voice was unfaltering, purposely trying to irritate Locke.

It was working.

“I said,” he hissed, “you don’t know shit.”

“Then enlighten me.”

Timothy took a deep breath in before speaking, “Do you know what happened in this house? Between these walls? How every time I wasn’t good enough or smart en-“ his hands swung out to the side as he talked, his anger getting the best of him. In one swift movement, his right arm had extended away from JJ, and you were holstering your own gun and lunging for Locke’s weapon.

You pushed his arm backwards, his hand tightening from the surprise. A single gunshot rang out, and a searing pain ripped through your left arm, causing you to cry out. JJ moved out of his grasp, which had loosened significantly, turning towards him and kicking his left knee inward, making him sink to the floor. You pressed your right hand to the hole in your arm in an attempt to stop the bleeding, using the last bit of adrenaline in your body to swing your leg up and connect your foot to the face of Timothy Locke, making contact with a sickening crack, rendering him unconscious. He was down before Derek, Spencer, and Aaron had even moved forward- it had to be less than ten seconds.

Spencer reached you first, pressing his palm over your hand, applying more pressure as your grip started to loosen and your fingers slipped from beneath his.

“Look at me, (Y/N), look at me,” he ordered. You tried to, but your head was dizzying and you were having a hard time keeping your eyes open.

“You’re going to go into shock,” he spoke quickly, “just keep your eyes open, okay?”

After cuffing Locke and checking in with JJ, Hotch rushed towards you, reaching you just as your knees buckled and gave out from below you. His arms held you steady, his knees bending as he slowly sank down to the floor with you.

“I- I don’t think the artery was hit, but there’s a lot of bleeding, so I’m not su-“

“Reid.” Hotch interrupted. Spencer’s eyes shifted from you to Hotch, eyebrows turned upwards, nothing but worry in his features.

“Call for medics again,” he instructed Spencer, whose hand was still on your arm, “don’t stop calling until they get here.”

Hotch’s hand replaced Reid’s, his free arm holding you against his chest. Your eyelids still drooped up and down, your battle with sleep being anything but victorious. It was almost like a dream, blurry and vague, with a feeling of unfamiliarity. You weren’t completely aware of what was happening. Hell, you still were not feeling the pain of a bullet passing through your arm. That’s how you knew something was very, very wrong.

“Keep your eyes open,” Hotch spoke, his soft words landing delicately on your ears, “keep looking at me, (Y/N).”

The corner of your mouth tilted slightly, “I got,” you let out a small giggle, high on adrenaline, “I got shot, Hotchie.”

“Yes, I know, honey,” his voice was still soft but by God, was he using all his strength to keep it that way. He fought against the way his heart threatened to leap from his chest, the way his mind became frantic at the sight of your blood painting his fingers crimson, the way he could feel his breaths losing rhythm. 

It was through and through, he thought, it will be okay, they will be okay. 

And yet, despite his logical thoughts, he felt like he could cry as he held you close.

“Did you get him?” You asked, your words weary and strained.

“We did,” Aaron could only whisper to keep his voice from breaking, “you saved them, (Y/N). Now, just do me one favor and keep your eyes open.”

Your hand shakily covered his, your fingertips delicate they brushed lazily over his knuckles. The small touch brought a small, content smile to your face- and that mad tears reach Aaron’s eyes.

He looked up as the EMTs burst through the door, kits jostling in their hands. Seeing them felt like taking a breath out of water, like he could finally get oxygen in his lungs again. He looked back to your drooping eyes as they pulled you out of his arms, working quickly to stop your bleeding.

He stood and backed away, stumbling over his own feet slightly, his gaze never leaving you. You were moved to a plastic cot, straps securing your head, chest, and legs, as you were lifted from the ground and ushered through the door. Hotch stayed where he was, focus trained on the pool of blood that began to seep into the wooden floor, turning it a dark burgundy. His mind attempted to understand that the stain was, in fact, from your blood. Suddenly, the weight of what he saw everyday piled on his shoulders, from the gruesome photos to the actual victims. He was always aware of their humanity, of their worth, but his jaded mind could look past that and move along. Now, it seemed he couldn’t hide behind compartmentalization and insensitivity. 

Sirens chirped outside, the sound floating in through the window, and his head snapped up at the sound.

Flashes began to obscure his vision. He saw the home he shared with Hailey, he saw the smiling and devilish face of George Foyet, he saw the lifeless eyes of the mother of his child, the blood that stained the carpet, the way his fist smashed in Foyet’s cheek, the way Hailey looked when she was gone, the way Jack looked when he asked where she was.

Then he saw you. He saw your smile, the light step of your walk, how delicate your hands looked as you wrote, how you bit your lip if you focused enough, the way your hair caught the light. He saw the sunshine that brought light into his dark, dark life.

The siren chirping once more brought him back to reality.

With his trance broken, he rushed out of the room, steps pounding against the creaky floor and echoing throughout the house. He ran down the stairs, the echos creating a drum roll in his wake as he finally stepped onto the front porch. The ambulance door clicked shut, the EMTs finding their seats before the ambulance sped away, sirens blaring.

He watched you leave until the sun engulfed the ambulance in orange light. His chest was heaving, in and out, mouth hanging open slightly. Suddenly, the kevlar around his torso felt much too tight, his hands finding the velcro and tearing at it. His breathing quickened, the kevlar falling to the ground, but the pressure in his chest still present. Frantically, his finger fumbled with the top button of his shirt, nearly ripping it off in his urgency.

“Aaron?” Dave asked, ascending the porch stairs towards his friend, “Aaron, are you okay?”

“I can’t,” Aaron wheezed, hands pulling down on the collar of his now exposed undershirt, “I can’t breathe-“

“Sit down, sit down,” Dave ushered him to the floor, Aaron practically crumpling into himself, “now, exhale completely.”

Hotch did as he said, shoulders hunching as he let out his breath.

“Now 4 seconds, in through the nose,” Dave followed Aaron’s movements, his hand accentuating his breathing, “hold for 7 seconds,” there was a pause as the two men held their breath, “and now, out for eight.”

Aaron closed his eyes as he exhaled, the tightness of his chest beginning to loosen.

“Keep doing that until you’re ready to talk,” Dave said gently, settling into the floor of the porch while he waited. Hotch completed three more cycles before he opened his eyes. He looked at Dave, eyebrows flicked upward in worry.

“Now,” treading lightly, Dave asked, “what was that about?”

“I don’t know,” Hotch answered quickly, avoiding Dave’s gaze.

“Aaron, the rest of the team may be fooled, but I am not,” Dave began, pointing over his shoulder at the team, “I’ve seen the way you look at them, and the way they look at you.”

That made Hotch’s heart flutter, the thought of you looking at him the same way he looked at you.

“I’m not pushing you to do anything you don’t want to,” Dave defended, “but you already have so many things you keep to yourself, you might have to let this one out.”

Aaron sighed, jaw clenching slightly, “I know.”

“Good,” Dave smiled, patting Hotch on the shoulder before getting up and walking away, preparing to fend off the rest of the team and their questions. Hotch was on his feet just as quickly, rebuttoning his shirt and retrieving his kevlar. His face had returned to the stoic expression everyone was used to, but his pulse was still racing.

***

“The doctor says they will be okay,” Derek told the team, taking a seat beside Spencer, “they’ve been moved to recovery; we can visit once they’re awake.”

Everyone nodded, a gloom hanging densely in the air. The team knew you would be okay, in all reality. Spencer had been sure to spout off a multitude of statistics to prove that a shot in the arm, avoiding the brachial artery, was survivable. But, despite the logical comfort, Hotch could only remember the way you looked, bleeding and incoherent in his arms. The bright, lively red of your blood on his hands was an image that would stain his mind as permanently as the very same blood stained the wooden floor of that house. He figured he could add it to his endless collection of gruesome images that lived in his brain, but he also knew he was a fool if he thought he could compartmentalize that away.

His elbows leaned against his knees, hands coming to a steeple upon his lips. The lines beneath his eyes grew deeper with every passing hour, but he remained in the same position, just as quiet. When it came to his thoughts- in particular, the dark, intrusive thoughts that came to him when the sun went down- he was fairly good at navigating through them, keeping them from degrading his worth as a human and protector. However, as he sat in the uncomfortable, plastic chair of the hospital you were a patient of, he could only think of how many people had been hurt (or worse), because of him. He could only see the way Reid cried as Tobias Hankel tortured him, the way JJ broke when he told her he couldn’t protect her job, the betrayal in Morgan’s eyes when he realized he had buried an empty casket, the beaten and bruised face of Emily after Benjamin Cyrus found out she was FBI.

But then, he saw Hailey. He saw her lying, dead, on the ground of the bedroom they had once shared, the room in which they had decided what to name their child, the room they laughed and cried in, the room they had loved in. She gave him everything he had to live for- his son.

Then he saw you. Dipping in and out of consciousness, calling him nicknames and smiling as you bled onto the floor. The way you giggled and called him ‘Hotchie’ was a happy image spliced into a bigger picture that made bile raise into his throat.

Lastly, he saw George Foyet. At least, what had been left of him. He remembered how he didn’t even feel his knuckles split open as they collided with Foyet’s face. It scared him, truly, how he didn’t stop, even after George was gone. It scared him how he would’ve stayed there, killing a man that was already dead, if Derek hadn’t pulled him away. The broken, mangled face of The Reaper haunted him the most.

A hand on his shoulder pulled him away from his thoughts, his eyes reaching upwards to see who it belonged to.

“You in there, boss?” Emily chuckled, a dazzling smile on her face. 

“Uh, yes,” he nodded once, clearing his throat as he stood. He smoothed down his shirt, suit jacket having been abandoned long ago. In vain, he tried to look like he hadn’t been caught off guard.

“They’re not awake yet, but the nurse said we can go see them, if you’d like.”

He nodded, blinking twice as her words processed in his overworked mind, “Lead the way.”

His strong facade was held together by bubblegum and paperclips when he entered your hospital room. The way you looked so serene- with your eyelashes resting upon your cheeks and your shoulders completely relaxed- it was almost overwhelming. It was only hours earlier that he watched that same face contract in pain, those same eyelashes flutter in an attempt to stay awake.

He stayed by the door as the team found their place around your bed, his hands finding themselves in his pockets and his eyebrows pulling downwards, like they always do. His heart physically ached beneath his chest, its beat no longer the allegro of anxiety, but the slow waltz of failure. He had failed you- failed to protect you, failed to keep you safe. Imagining where that bullet could have landed made it all the worse.

It was bittersweet, really, the way you made him feel. There was a sunshine, a happiness that you infected those around you with. Your warmth was a gift you gave to everyone you met, regardless of who the were or what they’ve done. You would pull the hurt and forgotten from the earth without questioning their origin, your delicate hands caressing them gently with the comfort they’ve never known. You spoke words that covered the listener like summer rain, moved in a way that mimicked the lithe movement of dandelions in the breath of spring. He would surrender himself to you in the way the tides surrender to the moon, and a small part of him knew he already had.

He would give what little of himself remained, if you’d asked. The thunderstorms and lightening he had journeyed through had washed away pieces of him, leaving an otherness that felt all too unfamiliar, that stared right back at him whenever he looked in a mirror. But, regardless of how much he lost of himself, no matter how withered he became, all of it would be yours, if you’d asked. Because, despite the darkness that engulfed his waking moments and controlled the rest, you were always beside him, with a candle to light the way. And for that, he would promise to love you with everything inside him, despite the raindrops that dance on his feet.

If you’d asked.

But, you wouldn’t, he knew, so he wouldn’t fall in love with you. He couldn’t. His heart was tired, weary, and weak. The thought of loving you- in the jumping-from-a-cliff-but-laughing-as-you-fall kind of way, because allowing himself to love you would open a floodgate- and potentially losing you; that was a trauma he couldn’t see himself recovering from. He didn’t have the strength to. So, he would reside in the outskirts of your life, keeping himself close enough to feel the warmth you radiated, but far enough to feel a chill trace his spine.

And that’s exactly what he did. He stayed near the doors of your hospital room, looking silently as the team conversed lightly with your sleeping ears, hoping you would hear their words despite your lack of consciousness. He could hear their gentle whispers, the way they teased each other, the gentle laughs they exchanged. He stood in a room of people that loved and were loved, each of their hearts clean of the bruises that riddled his.

He doesn’t remember when he left, or how he ended up in the George Bush Intercontinental Airport, but he was seated in an airplane seat, staring out to the wisps of clouds and star-spotted sky, mind empty and full all at once.

***

Your eyes slowly pried themselves open, the bright, white light overwhelming your senses momentarily. A groan left your mouth, eyelids dropping once again, your head tilting towards your pillow.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” the voice of Derek Morgan teased, a small smile coming to your lips.

“Am I in heaven?” You croaked out, “I think I hear the voice of an angel.”

“You’re too good to me, (Y/N),” he laughed, his hands gently patting yours. You opened your eyes again with a sigh, looking around the room at your team.

“You had us worried there, kiddo,” JJ chuckled.

“Sorry,” you grimaced, “I didn’t mean to get shot, I swear.”

“Well,” Spencer spoke up from his chair beside the hospital bed, “don’t ever do it again.”

“Pinky promise.”

“Yeah, leave the dying to me,” Emily joked, earning a weak laugh from you.

You looked around at your family, the people you loved most in the life you had, and you hid the disappointment you felt because one was missing.

***

Aaron entered his apartment, shoulders heavy as he set his briefcase by the door. He turned to find Jessica asleep on the couch, hands tucked beside her head. He walked towards her, pulling a blanket from the back of the cushions and draping it over her. She stirred slightly, but settled quickly. 

He moved numbly, putting his gun away securely and removing the belt around his waist. Walking towards the bedroom down the hall, his shoes were kicked off and his dress shirt was discarded, leaving him in slacks, socks, and his white undershirt. 

With a low creak, his eyes peeked through Jack’s barely open door to find him sleeping soundly in his bed, the dark blue comforter pulled up to his chin. Aaron stepped into the room fully, closing the door softly behind him. Carefully, he climbed into the bed beside his son, settling into the pillows. Jack reacted immediately, curling under his dad’s arm. With a small kiss to the little boy’s forehead, Aaron allowed himself to fall asleep, willing away the darkness of the day. Pushing the twisted thoughts away, his mind concentrated on the boy in his arms, and the incredible love he held for him.

[alexandrablake]

long story short (it was a bad time)

Prompt: 31. “I never would’ve thought that (he/she/they)’d get with someone else.” from this prompt list! Pairing: no current ones, but there are serious mentions of former!hotchniss Word Count: 4,410 (?????) Warnings: it’s angsty, and there’s some mentions of alcohol. there’s also mentions of the mr. scratch events  A/n: no, we are not going to talk about how late this is. nope. (i’m so sorry. catching up now, hopefully!) wrote this, realized that it’s very akin to seattle by @hurricanejjareau, which if you haven’t read, do it! 

          Des Moines, Iowa- October, 2017

Shutting his phone with far more force than necessary, he stared down at the small object. He flipped it in his palm and scowled at it with dismay. It was a chance of a lifetime, and it was all he had thought about for the past three years. There wasn’t a world in which he would refuse the offer, yet, for just the slightest of moments, he hesitated. But just as quickly as it came, it left, and he made his decision.

Aaron Hotchner was returning to the BAU.

The death of a valued team member left a door open, and Hotch already had a foot in. Cruz called him and offered him a deal he knew the former agent wouldn’t refuse. All the pieces were falling into place, all the stars were aligning, all the signs were being shown. There was no way he’d be able to refute everything the world was telling him. And he definitely didn’t try very hard.

Cruz said that Mr. Scratch had been terrorising the team practically since he left. Someone that cunning was not able to let go of something they felt so interesting. He had placed Reid, an agent who had already seen far too much for his short life, in a maximum security prison, framing him and terrorising him with memories that were just out of his reach. 

Hotch was told about what happened in the car, how they were ambushed, how Prentiss was abducted, and how SSA Walker was killed. He was told how traumatized the team was. But he was also told how much relief finally catching Lewis gave them. For the first time in a very long time, the team felt somewhat safe

And the spot left open by the death of Stephen Walker- Cruz knew that Hotch was itching to come back. Hotch may have only worked under him for two years, but they knew each other very well. Cruz knew how much being away from this job, this team, this life had been destroying Aaron, even if he wasn’t told so. 

“Hey, buddy.” It was an old habit of his, crouching down to talk to his son and calling him ‘buddy.’ Jack had probably come to associate the pet name with bad news, because the only time his father ever called him that was when he had difficult facts to present. Jack wasn’t a little kid anymore; he was twelve, and he was far too smart to not see that his dad was undergoing some turmoil.

But the good thing with Jack was that he was also smart enough to act like nothing was wrong, to just go with the flow. He had gone through a lot of changes in his life, and would definitely be going through more in the future, but he was used to it by now and was okay to move with his dad at a moment’s notice. 

“What’s up, Dad?” he asked, looking up from a math book with attentive eyes.

Hotch stood up and moved into the seat across the table from him. He spoke very slowly, “How would you feel about moving back to Virginia?”

“That’d be cool!” he enthused, nodding his head but his eyebrows were knit with confusion. “Why? Are you going back to the FBI?”

Hotch pursed his lips in thought. His fingers drummed subconsciously on the wood top. “I… think so, yeah. But-” he interrupted himself, holding his hand in the air, “only if you are okay with it. I don’t want to cause you anymore pain by moving you. Again.”

The younger Hotchner shook his now long hair clad head. “I miss Virginia! And we can visit Mom without having to fly!”

“Yeah,” came Hotch’s much quieter, less enthusiastic reply. “We can visit Mom.”

Jack turned back to his algebra with a smile on his face and a bouncing knee, his mouth moving rapidly to describe to his silent father how excited he was to go back and see his friends, and see Uncle Dave, and go back to that school, and have Dad catch the bad guys, and see Aunt Jess. 

Hotch was just quiet, basking silently in his son’s excitement. He only hoped that the team, but one specific person, really, would be so excited for the return of Agent Hotchner. 

     Quantico, Virginia- the same day

Prentiss was silent, and it wasn’t lost on her coworkers. They had taken to routinely dropping by her door, asking her if she wanted anything, and always hearing a false cheery no. Additionally, it wasn’t lost on her that they were grouping in the bullpen, shooting furtive looks her way, talking in hushed voices, and jolting back to their files whenever she looked down at them. 

The call from Cruz had just come in about a new team member. 

To say that she and Hotch had a… complicated history would be a serious understatement. Years ago, Emily wanted to leave. She wanted to get out of this job and this life because she couldn’t see herself getting back into what used to be. The failure with her house really just cemented that for her. 

Hotch changed that. 

The “date” they had arranged had actually turned into a date. It was easy to think back with a fond smile at the memory of Hotch with a cream mustache, clueless and smiling for once in his life. She had sat in that chair at the coffee shop and thought, ‘why would I ever want to leave this?’

After that, it was easy for her buried feelings to surface in an explosion of . It was easy for her to sit on his sofa and fall in love with him as he cared for his child with a gentleness she had never seen anywhere else. And she’d like to think the same went for him. 

The HR battles about their relationship were difficult, but in Aaron’s words as they sat outside of the office waiting for a final verdict, “it was nothing we can’t handle. I love you, and there’s no way that Strauss- or anyone for that matter- will be able to take that away from us.”

And it was easy to believe that, too. Three years they loved each other, days spent fighting the horrors of the world, nights spent comforting each other and falling deeper into the trance that was the other. 

Emily being herself, she’d known it was too good to be true. There was always a tiny voice in the back of her head whispering, “You don’t deserve him. He’s just going to leave you. This isn’t real.”

She should have listened. 

Mr. Scratch changed that. In the moments after Hotch was rescued from Lewis, she’d known it was over. The blank look he shot her, the way his hands shook, the flinch away from her when she laid a caring hand on his back. Just everything. 

And she was right. Hotch, a spot of darkness on the otherwise pristine and bright hospital bed, was the last she’d seen him. He checked himself out, picked Jack up from Jess’ house, packed a bag, and left. 

The only note he left wasn’t to her or even Rossi. No. It was to Garcia, a warning to not go looking for him- that he knew how to disappear from even her, but that would only make it harder on Jack. It was a plea to let him leave his life behind, the very thing he had convinced Prentiss to not do three years prior.

Emily dragged herself from her thoughts by staring at the framed photos she kept on her desk. Herself, Penelope, and JJ smiling at a bar after a solved case. Reid’s arms looped around her and a carefree smile on his face for once. Rossi kissing her cheek. Layton and her, locking lips under a sprig of mistletoe held out by Alvez.

And a photo of Hotch reaching his hand out towards her, an expression of love on his face. 

It wasn’t good for her healing process, she’d been told that enough times in the bureau-mandated therapy sessions, to act like Hotch and their relationship never existed. So, she kept a singular photo up, a small reminder to the happiest she’d ever been.

    Quantico, Virginia- November, 2017

Feelings of nostalgia rushed through him as he stepped out of the cold into the building, just as a tidal wave of hesitation crashed into him. Was this the right thing to do? 

He could have stood in the doorway forever, but a call from a security member stirred him from his stupor. Too late to go back now. He could only hope that arriving a week before they expected him would catch them off-guard, enough to let him talk before completely shutting him down.

Cruz met him in the lobby with a welcoming smile. “Hey, Hotch.” He reached out for a hug, which he stiffly received. Mateo had always been a hugger, and three years away hadn’t changed that. 

They pulled apart, and Hotch looked towards the elevator apprehensively. “They’re here?” he asked, turning back to Cruz, who nodded. 

“Prentiss has only told some of them. We weren’t expecting you for another week, and she figured that it’d be best to wait until Monday to tell them.”

Hotch’s heart leapt into his throat at the mention of Emily, and his voice quivered a bit as he asked, “So, who knows?”

“Rossi. Garcia, who, as you know, will find anything out. JJ and Luke, I believe. Luke Alvez,” he clarified at Hotch’s cocked eyebrow. “He came in last year from the Fugitive Task Force after Agent Morgan resigned.”

Hotch almost choked on the coffee he had lifted to his mouth to drink. “When did Morgan leave?”

Cruz ushered him towards the elevators and pushed the button while explaining simply, “You’ve missed a lot, Aaron.” 

It was salt in an already burning wound

“There’s also a new doctor in town, a Dr. Tara Lewis. She joined when Agent Callahan left. I think you’ll like her.” Cruz paused as they entered, thinking about the team. “Oh! And Matt Simmons.”

“From IRT?”

“Mhm. They disbanded, and he’s with us now. I think that’s it.”

Aaron was quiet, the news of how the team had changed settling on him. He fidgeted his feet and turned towards Cruz. “You aren’t a profiler, but give me your best thoughts. How does it look for my reception?”

The section chief was silent, turning away from him and towards the closed doors. He stared at the rising numbers and said, “Not good.”

A sharp “ding” sounded as the elevator stopped and the doors slid open. Hotch was very proud to say he only hesitated slightly in stepping out the silver doors and towards the glass walls of the bullpen.

He stopped at the door, where Cruz waved him goodbye, to stare at the team at their desks. JJ was perched on Reid’s desk, and a man he didn’t recognize was spinning in his chair while Spencer watched with a thinly veiled smile. A pretty black woman was pouring over a file splayed on the desk of Matt Simmons. 

“Hotch?” a chirpy voice from behind him asked.

At the sound of his name, Aaron spun on his heel, suit jacket flying, and met the watering eyes of Penelope Garcia. She looked the same, but her smile lines were etched a little deeper. Her hand moved to cover them as she took in Hotch standing in front of her, shocked. 

“I-I didn’t think you were going to be here for another week! You should have warned me!” she rushed towards him with outstretched arms, dropping the papers she had been carrying. “I wanted to make you a cake! And get Jack a present!” 

She pulled away, placing her hands on both sides of his face and scanned his eyes. Bewildered, he looked back at her. A man slid past them into the office, balancing three cups of coffee in his hands.

“Just making sure you are real,” she said and stepped back onto the array of papers scattered across the glossy floor. 

“Hi, Garcia,” he laughed, breathily, finally able to get a word in from her rambling.

“Hi!”

The time didn’t seem to diminish their relationship, but intuition told him that he wouldn’t be this well received by everyone else. You don’t just drop off the face of the planet and expect everything to be okay when you come back. It didn’t work for Prentiss, and Prentiss had a reason. What reason was he going to give?

“Come on, come on!” Penelope urged, pushing on his back, forgetting the papers she dropped. “The team is going to be so surprised! They don’t even know you’re the new team member!”

Weaving their fingers together, she tugged him through the glass doors, waving her other arm to get the attention of the others. Emily and Rossi had come down from their offices at this point, Prentiss taking a coffee from the man and planting a kiss on his cheek. Rossi made a show of doing the same, but still accepted his drink with a grateful smile. 

Hotch would have frozen in his place, but the enigma that was Penelope continued to pull him towards the others. All the returning profiler could do was stare at the pair and their clasped hands. 

Eight pairs of eyes turned to them as Garcia called, “Guys! Look who it is!”

Hotch didn’t have a lot of expectations for his reception, but a complete stillness somehow fell short of all of them. Penelope was similarly disappointed by the reaction and dragged him closer to the desks. 

“Oh, come on,” she sighed as they made it to stand in front of them. She placed her hands on her hips and surveyed them with the air of a mother telling her children to hug an aunt they didn’t like. “It’s Hotch, people!”

With a wide grin and a teasing look to Garcia, the man Hotch didn’t recognize came over to them first, offering a hand out. Hotch tried to focus on him and not the open-mouthed faces of his former friends. Better to ignore it than confront it.

“Luke Alvez,” the man introduced brightly.

Hotch nodded in understanding. “You came from the Marshals?” At the nod he received, he forced a smile. “How’d we pin you down to the BAU?”

Luke gave a good-natured shrug. “Don’t ask me,” he laughed.

A slender hand was presented to him next. “Tara Lewis.”

“Doctor,” Hotch nodded and chuckled slightly at the shocked look she gave him. “Cruz told me.”

Matt was next to greet him, waving from his spot at his desk. “Hey, Aaron.”

“Matt. How are the kids?”

“More of a handful everyday,” Simmons smiled lightly. “How is yours?”

Hotch shrugged. “He’s old.” “Right? Where did the years go?”

As the conversation fizzled out, a feeling of stiffness floated into the room. Hotch could have cut the tension with a knife, and he was forced to look at the faces of the people he had been purposely looking away from. 

Reid was far less clean cut than he had been when Aaron left. His face was no longer clean shaven, and he had grown his hair out. Somehow, his eyes expressed even more pain and exhaustion than three years prior. All those years ago, Hotch would have been able to read his emotions to a tee but with the new appearance and experiences, Reid’s thoughts were completely lost on Hotch. 

JJ and Rossi were sporting similar smiles. JJ’s was melancholic, reflecting the history they used to have, and Rossi’s was understanding, somehow expressing that he understood Hotch’s need to leave. But JJ’s arms were crossed and her expression was guarded- she didn’t trust him anymore. 

None of them did. 

Prentiss’ face was wiped of emotion. Her grip on the man next to her had tightened, knuckles whitened. A stark contrast to Garcia, Emily’s frown lines had been etched deeper into her face and smile lines faded. Her eyes held none of the love that Hotch used to mirror, none of the joy that used to spark happiness in himself. 

The man she was clutching onto didn’t seem to notice the tension that had filled the air, and offered a cheery smile to Hotch as he held out his hand. “Layton Gregory, Counter-intelligence.”

“Hello.” It was a stiff greeting but it was all that Hotch could spit out as he stared at his and Emily’s intertwined hands. 

Gregory didn’t seem to care. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“All good things?”

“Nothing too bad,” the other man shrugged, and looked towards Emily with a frown. He didn’t seem to know that there was history, which Hotch took a mental note of. “Bye, babe. I’ve got to go, I just figured you’d want your afternoon coffee. Glad I could meet you,” he nodded to Aaron.

Pressing his lips onto Emily’s forehead, Layton waved to the team and Hotch, who, bar the returning member, waved back.

Rossi raised his cup at the agent’s retreating back. “I owe you the next one!”

Layton waved it off over his shoulder, and the door shut behind him softly. The attention was directed back to Hotch. Curious eyes took in his appearance, but spiteful ones turned away and back to their work. 

Alvez handed a stack of manila files to Hotch, but stepped closer to whisper, “Prentiss isn’t too happy. I don’t know if there’s history here, but I think it’d be best to just let her simmer right now.” He stepped away and at regular volume told him, “Just a bunch of consulting right now. With you here, it should take less time- hopefully, at least.”

Hotch nodded, smiling grimly at the advice, and took the folders. He turned towards his former flame, willing explanations to give her into existence. Unsurprisingly, none came. 

Giving him a quick up-and-down glance, Emily turned away from him without a word. If Hotch was paying attention-- which he was-- he would have seen her turn back and swipe quickly at her cheeks before turning back around. The door that shut behind her wasn’t as quiet as her boyfriend’s.

JJ slowly drew her eyesight from Emily’s shut door back to Hotch. “It’s nice to have you back, Hotch.” Her voice didn’t exactly convey the same message, but she did reach out and rub his arm gently. “Emily’s had a tough time since you left. It wasn’t… easy for her, to say the least.”

“It wasn’t easy for me, either,” came Hotch’s weak explanation.

“Yeah, you don’t get that option!” she snapped, anger she had been harboring since he left rising to the surface. “You left, not us! If it was hard,” she did air quotes with her fingers, “you shouldn’t have done it! Why did you leave?”

He couldn’t answer her.

“Yeah.” JJ turned away and back to the paper she had crushed. She sounded vindictive, for what, Hotch was unaware. He assumed she was probably angry for the pain he had caused her and Emily and the team as a whole. 

“Hey, Reid,” Hotch greeted softly as he crossed to the other side of the room, standing next to Rossi, who placed a kind hand across his shoulders. 

The young man didn’t verbally acknowledge him, rather he just nodded. His eyes never shifted from the report in front of him. That was the best Hotch was going to get and he knew it.

Rossi moved him towards the stairs, mentioning something about a drink to catch up. His words were barely heard over the rush of blood in Hotch’s head. He could barely believe that these were the same people he had worked with for so many years. They just seemed like… shells of their former selves- placeholders put here to replace them. 

As they passed the windows to the office of the Unit Chief, Hotch couldn’t help but glance in on his former safe haven. Emily was stooped over her desk, rapping a framed photo with one of her knuckles, words he couldn’t hear spilling from her mouth.

He’d forgotten how beautiful she was. Of course, he took pictures and vivid memories of her filled his head at all times, but nothing compared to her in person. Raven hair fell into her face and she pushed it behind her ear with a delicate finger, only for it to fall back. Hotch remembered countless times where he had done the same thing for her, brushing a gentle hand against her face to push her hair back. 

But that was gone now, and there was no way that he would be given that opportunity again. 

Rossi set a bottle of sloshing liquid on his desk between them and slid a glass to him. “Drink. You’ll need it.”

“It’s,” he glanced at his watch, “only three.”

He was answered with a cocked eyebrow. “Are you really trying to tell me that you don’t want some?”

His glass was filled, but it remained untouched on the desk. 

“How are you?” Rossi asked, leaning back into his chair. 

Hotch straightened his back. “I’m okay. I didn’t think I’d ever actually see this place again.”

“I didn’t think I’d see you.”

“Touché.”

The room hadn’t changed much in the years since Hotch had seen it. It still reeked of Rossi, but it was just a little more hectic than it used to be. Papers were crammed into the bookshelves, no clear organization. The tv and game console set were new, something Hotch recognized from an ad Jack had shown him in an attempt for a birthday present.

Rossi hesitated before asking his question, the bond of complete transparency diminished in the years. “Do you… can you talk about it?”

There wasn’t an immediate response. The drink was swirled in the glass, but Hotch still didn’t take a drink.

“I had to leave. Uh, after Scratch got me, he put me under those drugs. I guess he was trying to see what I would do, I don’t know. Everything I’ve ever loved was ripped away from me in these… visions, I guess they could be called. You guys, Jack, Emily.” He pursed his lips. “I had to leave. I couldn’t let that happen.”

Rossi rested his chin on his outstretched index fingers. “Emily.”

“Emily.”

They sat in companionable silence, although they could barely be considered that anymore. Rossi nursed his drink, and Hotch did not, electing to stare out the window into the bullpen and watch the team work.

“What happened?” he asked.

Rossi shook his head. “What didn’t happen is the better question. They’ve gone through a lot in the past few years, and so have you. It’s just going to be like walking on eggshells for a while. You’ll never know when any of them reach their breaking point.”

Prentiss had left the recluse of her office and returned to the bullpen. She and Tara were talking over a case file Tara had splayed in her hands. Aaron couldn’t tear his eyes off of her. 

“Aaron?”

“I never would have thought she’d get with someone else,” he answered softly to a question that was never asked. He still didn’t look away.

“Okay.” The sharpness of Dave’s voice shocked Hotch enough to make him turn back. “Do you really think you are the end all, be all? What, did you think everything would stay the same for three years? You left, Aaron! She moved on! We all did! We didn’t know if you were ever going to return so we had to live as such!”

It was quiet enough in the office after Rossi’s outburst that Hotch could hear his own blinking. “I know.”

“Then act like it!” JJ clearly wasn’t the only one with pent up anger, but Rossi’s was a softer anger. There was no malice behind his words. “I understand why you left, we all have that moment where every fiber of our being is telling us to leave, to pack up and change our name and move to Buenos Aires.”

Hotch squinted at the ranting man. “The Buenos Aires part might just be you, Dave.”

“Maybe so. The thing is, Hotch, that Emily could barely stand when you disappeared. She was so weak with stress that her body literally shut down for a little bit. And we couldn’t help her. She was destroyed when you left.”

There weren’t enough words to describe the pain that Hotch felt at Rossi’s story. The thought of his Emily-- no, she wasn’t his anymore, he made sure of that-- suffering that much because of something he did was unbearable.

“But Emily is a fighter. She got better, she moved on. She took over as Unit Chief, she moved into that office, and she took charge, almost like she was made for it. Do you want to know how long it took Garcia to convince her to go out to a club?”

Hotch shook his head. 

“I don’t know because it still hasn’t happened. That fun Emily we all knew died when you left. She doesn’t go out to party or club like she used to. All she does is work, eat, and maybe sleep.” Rossi shot a look out the window. “I mean, for God’s sake, she’s dating someone from work, she didn’t even go out and meet a normal person!”

 “What can I do?” Hotch’s voice was rough.

A shrug was his reply. “I don’t know. We’re all a little like that. She just took it the hardest because she loved you the most. If you had popped the question, she would have married you back then. Can you imagine that? Emily Prentiss, married?”

A million tiny images of what life could have been flew through Hotch’s mind of Emily in a flowing white dress walking towards him. He could imagine that, very easily.

The class clanged as Rossi set it down. “I think you just have to remember that we aren’t the same people anymore. That’s,” he pointed out the window, “not the same Emily. And I don’t think you’ll be getting that one back. I never could.”

Hotch sunk deeper into his chair and followed Rossi’s finger to below them. Prentiss was smiling, but it wasn’t at him like it used to be. And he didn’t think it would be for a very long time.

[reylo-love-theme]

Specific personal reasons why Ben dying really hurt

Disclaimer: i know people have had many dif reactions to this movie and for those of you that liked it good for you. this is my personal opinion on my own blog so please don't attack or debate me in the comments just go make your own post please if you feel that. I respect you all and I'm just trying to cope.

This post is for people who are in a similar situation as me and want a place to relate or their thoughts turned into words.

1. I'm a childhood abuse victim myself and 2019 was a terrible year full of my trying to deal with my past and my cptsd and my toxic shame. I barely made it.

Ben Solo was a reminder that it's not too late to save yourself and that people you love do care for you. I literally leaned solely on reylo fanfiction during my darkest times for this aspect of hurt/comfort and redemption and recovery.

2. I had never went to watch a movie of my own free will (see number 1). Doing this was terrifying since I had to overcome so many triggers. I chose to watch TROS so that it would end my year on a happy note with a postive message of hope, love and recovery.

3. The only reason that I shipped Reylo was because I had investigated very throughly and had become certain they would get a happy ending.

I have a tendency of relying on fictional characters for the support I do not have in real life so I needed to choose who I love very carefully or else when I loose them I'm actually in terrible pain.

The worst thing was that I wasn't prepared for it. (Preparing and being nihilist had given me depression and I literally pulled myself out of that thought process for this hope of Ben living. It seemed so close to happening and I got stabbed in the stomach and left in a puddle of blood)

Now, I'm struggling really hard not to blame myself for falling for false hope again (I had made that mistake once and swore off hope for like 11 years) (even though I know that being so cynical is terrible for my health)

4.I stepped on Reylo in 2018/2019 fully and spent a whole year looking forward to this movie. It brought me so much joy and I tamped out my inner cynic that said "putting your hope in something you love will only let you down".

I told myself that even with all that has happened in 2019, making it to December and watching the movie would be symbolic for me (a way of saying "look world, I made it.")

5. The message the movie sends me is just.... I really can't. I don't understand why it couldn't be a happy ending for Ben who literally redeemed himself. For me personally, I don't consider a kiss and a smile and then death a happy ending. What does that mean for me? A person who related so heavily to this broken struggling character. Does it mean that all my pain was worth nothing in the end? That those who I love will never love me back or remember me or even care that I was abused and my trauma made me a literal walking self-defence mechanism? That the only ending the general population accepts as morally correct is for "bad" abuse victims to die?

And the message of Ben dying for someone he loves (while not a bad trope) is toxic because of the way it is shown. Even with the emoting on Rey's behalf, it's not enough to justify someone dying for that. (There just isn't enough romance or support from Rey (unlike TLJ)) It seemed like an unbalenced love (because of the way Rey just kept on rejecting him and hurting him without really trying to help (until the end where literally he sacrificed himself, would someone who loved you do that?)

And the additional message that Ben's family would help a random stranger but not the person that literally needed them and still loved them after all the abandoment he went through. My family literally turned a blind eye (or just blamed me as a weakling for reacting to it) to my abuse and that is what happens to Ben. Even at his death, not one single member of his family (Han was just a memory) was there to mourn him or even help him (Leia's disappearance thing I'm so confused on what the heck happened, why the heck did Maz smile if Ben just literally died and his mom died trying to save him.)

And no one bothered to be on his side, he literally had to redeem himself the whole way. That isn't a good message to people who need help. It's literally saying that you are the only one who can save yourself (not a bad message by itself but the strength of the message comes from the fact that others can stand by you as you save yourself not BECAUSE NO ONE ELSE WILL OR WILL HELP YOU)

Anakin sidelineing him for Rey was just salt in the wound.

As someone who's pain was literally ignored and laughed at by the whole family, this was immensely rage inducing.

And what about rey and her character development? I also had related to her for being abandoned by her parents and left to fend for herself. She was a nobody who was strong on her own. She didn't need to be related to a strong lineage. Additonally, ending up all alone on the same kind of desert she started at is not a good message. ( I get the nostalgia thing but they could have literally used any other character, Rey wasn't a good choice for that scene) First off, she wanted to get off jakku. She wanted a family. Ben told her she wasn't alone. Next, she needed to realize that being a nobody didn't mean she was worthless ( a strong and powerful message to ordinary girls) (not find out oops i was from a loving family all along!!!) That isn't good plot when she literally spend two movies recovering from her parents abandonment (it makes it seem like ohhh they loved you and this was the only best

thing they could do!! XOXO (this is a common victim blaming trick abuse apologizers use to silence victims pain)) it would have made sense if she found this out earlier but to do this to an already developed character arc is just sucky. Her turning dark influenced by palp is not as good a message as her turning dark influenced by her past and her overcoming it anyway. For star wars, a theme has always been hope, love and redemption and I feel like the theme was picked up but not carried through in one character, instead spread throughout everyone but leaving a sense of unsatisfactory ending since no one really ended their arc. (In my opinion, you can have a different one)

6. Ben dying. That is just cruel and sadistic..there were already so many "surprise they are alive illogically!" Moments that JJ could literally have pulled one for Ben a final time and no one would have batted an eye. It would have suited the style of the movie. It was such a bad shock for me. The movie already baited my heart several times with Ben nearly dying and I cheered internally when he came back. I held out my hope till the very end of the credits and this movie just made of fool of me. I was ready to gloss over any and all flaws and buy merch if only Ben had been loved and lived.

7. The way it affected me. (Warning this might be upsetting to read so skip if you don't want to hear about mental health right now)

I was in so much shock as I stumbled out of the theater that I literallt thought I was going to be okay. I couldn't feel anything and I felt sick and empty. (That's not a reaction a star wars movie should give or any "hopeful" movie)(this is coming from someone who has watched the sacrifical death trope many times and cried (it was a good hurt))

This wasn't because there was literally no resolution or purpose to the death. It seemed like a cliche trope failure of redemption=death. But with the added on "no mourning, superfical loss". (It would have been more acceptably had it been a side character, bad writing can excuse it, but for a main half of the protagonist this is just sick)

I wandered home mechanically on Friday and then as soon as I thought back to the scene where Ben smiled and died I broke down crying. And I lost all my appetite and felt nauseous for an entire two days. I barely ate two meals during that time because I was so distraught and my mental health crashed completely back into my worse cptsd symptoms and nightmares and insomnia and waking up to panic attacks. I wasn't functioning, I kept trying to pull myself together but my only postive coping mechanism(reading reylo fanfiction) was gone. In fact I felt betrayed that my coping mechanism would actually be the cause of my pain.

I completely felt like those two days were actually traumatizing and as someone who has actually experienced traumatic events I'm using the word in a serious way. Anything can hurt you badly enough if you put enough of your heart and vulnerability into it.

Now it's Monday I'm just trying to recover enough to go outside again but I feel really tired. I'm trying to salvage my christmas and my life as a big middle finger to whoever decided that abuse and mental health could be used as convenient plot points and just discarded and laughed at.

[jemelle]

these are ties that bind (1/8)

you can also find this story on ao3!

fandom: criminal minds

rating: g

(chapter) word count: 1,976

summary: emily and hotch must pretend to be in a long-term relationship in order to foster carrie. shenanigans and serious conversations alike ensue.

masterlist

one.

Emily Prentiss stood in front of the hotel door, hand raised, wondering if she was making the biggest mistake of her life. All her self-preservation instincts, built up from a lifetime of looking over her shoulder, told her it would be better for all parties if she just walked away. But a small voice in the back of her head disagreed. There is someone who needs you, it said. Someone who you are not too late to save. That voice had gotten her into this situation, and it was determined to see it through.

She knocked once, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent hallway. When Hotch opened the door, he looked as if he rather expected to see someone else. It was late, but Reid and Morgan were still off flirting with women at a club somewhere. Or, probably more likely, Morgan was flirting while Reid sat alone at the bar. Emily found she could never begrudge either of them the comfort of a post-case routine, no matter how strange.

Hotch was wearing his pajamas, which consisted of plain grey sweatpants and a well-worn GW Law shirt. His outfit had the unsettling effect of reminding Emily that she and him were, in fact, almost the same age. He often seemed much more world-weary than his thirty-some years suggested, although she supposed it was her who had actually seen more of the world. He was holding a book in one hand and seemed poised to lecture Reid for forgetting his keycard again. Upon seeing Emily, the expression on his face slid from irritation into confusion.

“Prentiss?” he asked. The “what do you want?” went unsaid.

“Sir, if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to you about something.” Hotch opened the door wider and motioned her inside. He sat down on one of the beds while Emily leaned uncomfortably on the desk and surveyed the room. What she assumed was Hotch’s side of the room was nothing short of meticulous, although Spencer, to his credit, had managed to keep his chaos contained to a two by four area at the foot of his bed.

Acutely aware of the importance of her next few sentences, she began. “Carrie Ortiz, the girl from the case, has an aunt and uncle in Phoenix, but they’re not able to care for her. She doesn’t have anyone else and especially after seeing what the foster system can do to kids, I don’t know if…” No, this wasn’t the way to do it. She was dancing around her point and both she and Hotch knew it. Time to regroup. 

“Carrie came to me and asked if I would be willing to take her in for the time being.” Emily’s knee-jerk reaction had been no, but remembering what JJ told her earlier had given her pause. She had never been one of those children who dream of becoming a parent, not until it was no longer a dream. In the ensuing fallout, she became even more convinced that parenting was not for her. But Carrie wasn’t a helpless child. She was a young woman who had experienced a traumatic event and was voluntarily asking Emily to become her guardian. And so Emily found herself unable to say no.

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her that I would have to think about it but that I didn’t have the power to make that decision myself.” It was the truth. Emily knew that Hotch didn’t tolerate lying, especially not to victims. To give false hope to someone whose family had just been ripped away would be unspeakably cruel.

“Prentiss, with all due respect, I’m not sure why we’re having this conversation. I know you don’t need to be reminded of the dangers of our job, but I firmly believe that you will make the right decision.” Truthfully, it had taken Emily several hours to fully process Carrie’s request and several more before she could think rationally enough to decide. But she had made up her mind. If only that made it a reality.

Emily took a deep breath. For all the courage it had taken to get this far, the hardest part had yet to come. “I talked to Carrie’s social worker and she said that in the absence of family, they usually try to place in-area, but that given Carrie’s explicit request, she might be able to make an exception. However…” She trailed off. Maybe this was a mistake. It wasn’t too late to back out.

“However?” Hotch prompted. His tone was steady, and Emily forced herself to make eye contact. His face had smoothed itself into a neutral expression, which Emily took as a positive sign as she gathered her resolve.

“They don’t place children with single parents. No exceptions.” And definitely not gay couples, she mentally amended.

“I see,” he said. His face wrinkled in a way that told Emily he hadn’t quite figured out where she was going. “That’s a pity. Although, that still doesn’t solve the mystery of why you’re in my hotel room. I may be your boss, but even I don’t have sway over the foster care system of Denver.”

“Well… I sort of told Carrie’s caseworker that I would have to consult my husband.” She had run out of the room immediately after, wondering what on earth had just possessed her. She was a lesbian, for God's sake! There was no husband in her future. What scared her even more was realizing that she didn’t regret it. She wanted this for Carrie (and for herself, if she was being honest) and she was willing to do whatever it took, even if it meant hatching a hare-brained scheme like the one she currently found herself ensnared in.

Hotch raised his eyebrows at her. She suspected the pieces were starting to come together for him. “And you’re here to ask me to marry you?” 

He was chuckling now, almost in disbelief. Although she half-expected to become defensive, Emily instead found herself wanting to crack a grin at the pure absurdity of the situation.

“Well, given my lack of a personal life, it was one of our coworkers or a random man on the street.” The last time she had been on a date was months ago. Liv had been nice, but Emily could tell she wanted more than a casual relationship. So that particular alley was a bust, notwithstanding the fact that her gender preference would disqualify any actual partner.

“Why me?” Hotch asked, bringing her out of her thoughts. His tone turned serious again. “I don’t exactly have the best track record with parenthood.” 

His gaze was fixed at a blank spot on the wall above her head, and Emily imagined he was mentally scrolling through his worst hits as a constantly-working husband and father.

“Hotch, you’re the only man on this team with any parenting expertise.” Upon giving the decision some thought, Emily had realized that not only was Hotch the best choice, he was the only choice. She voiced her thought process to reassure him. “Morgan is the perpetual bachelor, Reid would eat cereal for every meal if we let him, and Rossi is old enough to be my father.”

“While I’m certainly flattered to have been picked by process of elimination, that doesn’t make this a good idea.” He was right. In fact, it was a bad idea for more reasons than Emily could count, chiefly that she and Hotch had only recently reached any sort of lasting truce; any person who wasn’t convinced of the validity of their relationship could turn them in and ruin the whole scheme.

“Sir, I recognize the ridiculousness of the situation, and if you say no I will never mention this conversation again, but I really believe that we have the chance to make someone’s life better. Our job is about always making wrong things right, giving people peace, but never more than that. Never making a good thing on its own.” Hotch looked as surprised as Emily felt at her impassioned speech. At some point, she had begun gesticulating, movements becoming more frantic as the volume of her voice rose. 

“We’ve seen how the foster system changes kids,” she continued, suddenly feeling bold. “I don’t need Reid to quote statistics to know it’s usually not for the better. Carrie has so much potential and I don’t want to think her hopes were dashed because of a choice I made.” I see myself in her, Emily didn’t say. Young and hopeful and ready to take on the world.

They sat in silence as Hotch mulled her words over. Emily felt confident that no matter his decision, she had given it her all. It felt unnerving to have to place a decision this important in the hands of a man she had betrayed, but Emily knew he would put aside any feelings, positive or negative, that he might have for her. It was one of the things she admired most about Hotch; if he respected you, he valued your contributions, whether you were certified genius Spencer Reid or a local law enforcement officer assisting the team. With that conviction in mind, Emily did her best to steel herself for his decision as Hotch began to speak. 

“Let’s pretend I said yes. What are we going to tell the team, not to mention Jack and my… Haley?” Emily pretended to ignore the way he choked on Haley’s name. It was the least she owed him. Still, she felt hope bubbling in her chest at the realization that he was actually considering it.

“I think we should tell the team as little as possible. I don’t doubt that they’ll figure out something is different, but we both know Reid and Garcia can’t lie to save their lives. It’ll be better to keep them in the dark for as long as possible.” Hotch nodded and Emily felt some of the tension leave her body. “As for Jack and Haley, you know them best, so I’ll defer to you.”

“We’ll have to convince them we’re really in a relationship,” he responded without pause. “Haley and I currently have equal custody, and I won’t do anything to jeopardize that.”

“Deal.” She briefly fought the ridiculous urge to offer him a handshake. “Although I am warning you that I’m not sure how long this arrangement will have to last.”

“Well, as you pointed out, I’m not exactly a youthful bachelor.” True to his words, Emily’s brain faltered when asked to conjure up an image of Hotch as a twenty-something playboy. He was, she thought, possibly the most monogamous man she had ever met. If he was as serious in his acquiescence to her plan as he was in every other endeavor, they would be an excellent team.

“You’re really sure?” She had hoped for this, of course, but now it hardly seemed real. 

Hotch’s voice was warm. “Emily, speaking as a parent, every child deserves someone who is as passionate about them as you clearly are about Carrie. If I have the chance to make someone's life better and it doesn’t harm me or my family or the team in any way, then I don’t see how I could say no.”

“Thank you, sir. You don’t know how much this means to me.” Emily rarely cried, preferring to keep her rare bouts of melancholia and euphoria within the confines of her apartment, but she could feel herself tearing up, though she tried her best to conceal it. “We should be able to sign the necessary paperwork in the morning.”

“Of course,” he said. Emily stood and turned to leave the room, pausing in the door frame as she heard his voice again, colored by the return of his smile. “And Prentiss, if we’re going to pull this off, you probably shouldn’t call me sir.

[brywrites]

Thoughts on 15x4: “Saturday”

Okay so to start off I have to say that overall this was one of the best CM episodes I’ve watched in a while! And that was largely due to the writing, imo - more on that later

Clearly this dream is a little influenced by what happened to JJ, all the agents are lying like she was

Why an axe-murderer? Of all the unsubs that have traumatized Reid none have been axe-wielding overall-wearers, although he did remind me slightly of the one unsub from To Hell... And Back

REID GOES TO THERAPY YES EVERYONE ON THIS TEAM SHOULD BE IN THERAPY

“I’m not talking about her.” This therapist blocks every attempt of his to dodge the question and I love it

I can’t tell you how here I am for wine-aunt Emily!!! 

Prentiss: raised an Irish terrorist’s son, almost adopted a teenage victim

Also Prentiss: how do children work aren’t they just tiny adults

Give me more of Garcia in her element like this, and also please give her an assistant! I’d love to watch her training someone else to do this work

Okay, here I have to say the writing was amazing all-around throughout this episode, and I think it’s because they took a break from the typical case format. Most episodes in the last 5 years have felt stiff bc it’s just characters taking turns saying profile-y things and following a strict formula. It’s boring, it’s unrealistic, and it leaves little room for personality or character growth

However in this episode, we only see that briefly when the team goes over the profile at the roundtable. Outside of that, they’re funny, witty, real, and themselves. We see Emily being snarky and silly. We see Tara having fun and being the badass we all know and love. We see how far Rossi has come from being a grumpy loner to a happy grandpa. And the dialogue never feels forced or formulaic, it’s natural and bc of that I felt way more invested.

I would die for Max. She can have my whole heart!!! Their meeting did feel a lil forced at first but it became much more natural after the park bench. I like that she’s got a little more spirit and spunk to her, and that she doesn’t immediately take a liking to Reid.

Eleanor Shellstrop: Ya basic!

Prentiss’ neighbor: Ya died!

I need a full Garcia/Alvez spy montage immediately

Hello this crawlspace under the bed has me screaming and the tissues ew ew ew ew

I also really thought they were going to touch on the nephew being autistic but then they didn’t? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

Okay there’s Garvez going on here, right? Right? Everyone else sees it? Feels the palpable sexual tension & chemistry? No? Just me?

Garcia is so much tougher than she gets credit for and I really love this moment of her explaining how hard some of her work is - she sees the dark stuff too, it’s just not in moments that we as an audience can easily observe onscreen 

Matt following in Rossi’s footsteps is actually something I really like. The BAU passing down lessons and traditions over the years. And the “Simmons Stories” that’s so wholesome!

Tara: “Someone married that man?” the shade thrown in this episode I’m living

A little plot hole here and there - they were taken hostage like nine months ago??

MAX PUSHING REID IN THE SPRINKLERS I CAN’T. and then Reid pickING HER UP AND CARRYING HER IN. STOP IT’S TOO CUTE

Obvs Reid is a little out-of-character here, at least for the character he’s been playing this season, but it feels like growth and it’s wholesome so I’ll allow it

The hoodie sdfghjkl I LOVE them

RoseMary’s (the) Baby

Give me all the BAU family scenes all the time that’s all I want

This was the first episode that I could really feel them starting to tie up the ends and wrap things up. Matt’s going to write. Reid is meeting someone. Garcia and Luke are taking care of her life. Prentiss is happy with a boyfriend. Our heroes are being set up to ride off into the sunset one last time.

Anyways I hope the writers will use this season to do less formulaic case-talky episodes and insert the personality, the heart of the show that we all fell in love with and have been missing. Remember when episodes featured a consistent B-plot of Morgan helping Reid with nightmares? Or JJ struggling with a case because the victims reminded her of herself when she was young? The team learning things about each other between the cases and having personal moments with victims that were real and called back experiences they’d had in the past?

Yeah so basically I want more of this??

[darling-young-drabbles]

Birthday Boy

Hi don’t let the title fool you, this is actually a really angsty story... Some triggers there is going to be gruesome death in this so watch out before you read. If that stuff does not bother you then go ahead and keep reading! This one is Elliott’s most traumatic event of his life.

“Alright kids! Come on let’s pack up in the car!” Mother called from the front door, father stood right beside her as he helped her coat onto her shoulders.

Jeff and Jayda ran down the stairs, giggling along the way as they raced to see who would be first. Elliott followed suit behind the twins, making sure his suit jacket had no lint or hair on it. He had been wearing his special black suit jacket with matching slacks and a white button-up shirt. Dad wore something similar, but his jacket and slacks were gray with an addition of a purple tie while Jeff only wore the back slacks and a light purple button-up instead of white. Both girls wore dresses, Jayda wore a white dress with a purple fringe and bow around the waist while mom wore her favorite fancy purple dress that she only wore for special occasions.

She gave a kind smile as the kids stood in front of her, “Good job, kids. You two got ready all by yourselves! You make your old mother so proud.” She spoke, leaning down to kiss both children’s cheeks. “And Elliott.” She smiled, happily hugging the boy to her chest, “There’s my special birthday boy. I can’t believe you’re already fourteen, ugh you make me feel so old!” She kissed his forehead softly as she hugged the adolescent close.

“Mom you’re really squeezing me. I wanna make it to fifteen.” He spoke with a light chuckle, hugging her back before pulling away, his chestnut brown eyes looking up to meet hers. Everyone always said he looked just like his mom.

“Anita, dear, if you want to get that picture you wanted and still make the reservations on time, I suggest we do this now.” Dad told her, ruffling the oldest child’s hair with a light hum.

Mom took a quick look at her watch, letting out a small squeak as she started to nudge the kids to stand at the door, “Ah! Maurice why didn’t you tell me? Kids line up! Mommy wants to get a quick picture of all of us before we go!” She spoke, placing the camera on the stairs and setting the timer before she quickly joined the rest of the family. “Everyone say cheese!”

“Cheese!” The whole family cried as they all smiled for the photo. With a click and a flash, the camera took the picture.

Mom was quick to hug the kids as she looked at the picture on the camera, “Oh now let’s see… It looks good kids! My pretty little Jayda and all my handsome boys!” She grinned, putting the camera on the counter. “Oh we’re going to have to frame this one! It’s so cute!”

“Alright kids, mom, we should probably pack into the car… If we go now we’ll be able to make it on time.” Dad spoke, nudging the children out towards the door. Mom followed right after, closing and locking the door behind them.

Everyone had packed into the blue Chrysler Pacifica, nicknamed “Carly” by his father when they had first gotten it. Elliott moving in the middle seat with the younger children on either side of them. Mom sat in the passenger’s seat while dad was in the driver’s seat. The now fourteen year old was excited of course, this was his favorite tradition. Every year on his birthday, the whole family would go to their favorite restaurant where they would always give him a free dessert and the whole staff would sing happy birthday to them. This has been the norm since he was young and it has carried on throughout all fourteen years of his life. It was a bit of a drive, it took about forty minutes to go down and another forty on the way back. Though no one minded at all, it was a fun family outing that everyone enjoyed annually. It was the same each and every year.

But that year was different.

Elliott had his earbuds in, listening to some music quietly as he stared out the right window, looking over Jayda’s head. He admires the colors of autumn, the reds, yellows and oranges was intriguing to him, it was almost calming. While at this point, trees were starting to go bare as winter threatened to come rolling in, it was not quite an ugly, dead-looking brown color yet. Everything was completely peaceful, just a calming car ride with his family. It was all of a second when everything changed. Out the window he saw it, a car that was turning into the road, but they didn’t dare to stop or let alone even slow down in the slightest. His eyes blew wide, opening his mouth to speak but it was already too late. The sound of glass shattering towards them, the side of the car crunching in on them, and the sound of the family’s screams is all that could be heard as they suddenly were thrown off the road, rolling a few feet into the grass before they had stopped flipped onto its left side.

The teen had been thrown from his seat, having hit the left side of the car. He felt horrible pain as he managed to open his eyes. “W-wha…?” He whimpered, looking around his surroundings. Though his confusion was soon replaced with horror. In front of him was mom, her head was hanging off the side, her arm hanging limply downward. He could see the blood dripping off of her forehead and down her arm. Dad had not even been in the car anymore, he had flown through the windshield and laid on the ground a few feet from the car. “ D-dad..? M-Mom?!” He spoke, fear starting to eat at him. His breath started to pick up tears starting to pour as he suddenly screamed out in horror. He attempted to crawl out but soon found himself not able to move. His head turned to his arm and almost immediately he started to scream again. His arm was crushed under the side of the car, completely destroyed under the weight of the vehicle. He screamed as loud as he could, trying his best to call out for help.

“E-Elli..?” Came a small pained voice, “I-Is that… Y-you..?” The youngest boy asked, his body laying against the side of car, he could see a few gashes across his skin from the glass, but it didn’t look too horrible. “I-I… I can’t… I-I hurt… I-I-I can’t move…” he whimpered pathetically.

“J-Jeff?! Y-yeah buddy… It’s… It’s me…” He spoke pained, trying his best to crawl out further to him, but failing miserably, he couldn’t inch his body all that much closer. “J-just… I’m gonna… G-gonna get you…” He managed to reach up and unbuckle his seatbelt. Though he was terrified to see his brother’s body fall limply onto the ground, not moving at all. The only reason he knew he was still alive was the child’s frantic cries. He was quick, pulling his body close to his as he held him close to his chest. “O-oh god.. Jeff?! Jeff just… I-I’m here…” He tried calming him down but to no avail, he sobbed and screamed into his chest, unable to move his body in the slightest. That was when Elliott saw it. The child’s spine was shattered, paralyzing his whole body from the neck down, his whole body limp and dead against his body. But what horrified him the most was the back of his head. His skull had been cracked open, blood spilling heavily from the open wound. The adolescence had to cover his mouth to muffle his sobs.

Jeff was no better in the situation, screaming in fear and pain, wanting to cling onto his brother but not being able to move to do so. “Mommy! Where’s mommy?!” The child screamed, not even able to look around for himself, “D-Daddy?! JJ?! Wh-where are th-they?!” He called out, unaware of what had happened to all of them. Elliott frowned when he mentioned Jayda, realizing he hadn’t looked yet looked at her, he turned his head and almost vomited at the sight. His sister’s body hung above them, the seatbelt having been wrapped around her broken, lifeless neck. She must have tried to unbuckle and escape when the car first was hit, but when it had rolled, the belt was swift to end her instantly.

In his own horror, he had failed to answer Jeff’s cries, having to keep himself from losing his lunch and his mind. Then he noticed, Jeff wasn’t crying anymore, rather instead he was silent. “J-Jeff..? Jeff..?” He spoke, fearful to even look. When he moved him slightly to see his face, he found that he wasn’t breathing with a lifeless look to his eyes. His heart stopped in his chest, “Jeff! Jeff! No! No, no, no!” He cried, trying to shake him awake in any way he could. Though he realized the horrible truth, he was gone, so was Jayda and mom and dad. He lightly put him down as he covered his own face, harsh sobs ripping through his body at the trauma. He attempted to pull his arm out from under the car again, tugging roughly as he tried to pull himself from out underneath the car siding. He tugged roughly feeling scraps of metal moving as he did so, scraping against the rocky ditch underneath the car.

However, what Elliott had failed to notice was the sparks. The continuous tugging on his arm caused the scraps of metal to create sparks to shoot out from the friction. He thought nothing of it, focused on trying to get out and away from his nightmare. He was pulled out of his thoughts when the light had started beside him, hot light. His eyes widened, fire, fire that was bright and hot and too close for comfort. “N-no… No please…” He whimpered, tugging more frantically, as he saw the flames grow closer to him. The adolescent's whole body was filled with terror as he attempted to pull himself out from the wreckage, the fire growing closer as it started to grow onto his body. He screamed out, continuously trying to pull away, fire and pain shooting to his left side.

Another unexpected event however ensued, as he attempted to pull away, more sparks had shot from the attempts and rather than causing more small fires, a large one broke out. The fire that connected with the gased up car caused it, an explosion. Elliott wasn’t sure if it was another tragic event or a moment of luck as he was blasted back from underneath the car, skidding out onto the road. His whole body was filled with pain, his left side had aches and burned from the mix of the burns and the explosion. He felt weak, he felt as if he couldn’t move, nor did he really want to. At least his arm was free, he slowly opened his eyes looking at what was left of his arm in front of him, making tears of horror come to his eyes. From the elbow down, it was gone, blood oozing out of the stump, only making the child shriek again, a mix of hard sobs and screaming coming out of his mouth. This was it, it had to be it, his whole body and mind felt as if it were shutting down. Was he dying? Was this what it was like? The boy simply closed his eyes, crying loudly as he laid limp out in the middle of the street, simply waiting for his body to give out and he could find peace. Apparently though the world didn’t want that for him, he could hear a car approaching and slowing down in front of him as he lost consciousness.

Suddenly, he woke up with a gasp, eyes looking around frantically to see what was going on. He wasn’t in the road anymore, where was he? White walls, a weird smell, a sense of dread in his stomach. Hospital. He wasn’t dead, which was the most shocking thing to him. He couldn’t move well at all, his body felt weak and heavy, he could feel constrained as well, especially his face. He looked down at his body, he had been wearing the normal hospital gown, and he could see that he had bandaged applied to practically his whole left side, he assumed it was due to the burns. His right arm had the IV Bag attached to it while his left… Oh god his left. He didn’t see the grotesque amputation any more, now being heavily wrapped in gauze and bandages, but the image was still clear in his mind. All of the gory imagery had bee still crystal clear in his eyes. Slowly, he raised his right arm, moving to touch his face. He didn’t feel his skin, rather he felt the bandages wrapped around his head, only leaving space for his eyes and his mouth. He couldn’t help himself as all the memories flooded back to him, along with the tears that poured from his eyes. He yelled and screamed, a mix of grief, fear and pain all shooting through his brain. He couldn’t be calmed down, nurses and doctors came in frantically, trying their damndest to relax the traumatized child, all to no avail.

Months had passed at this point and the pain was not any more bearable. He was walked up to the stand, keeping his eyes down as he knew all eyes had been on him. Elliott no longer needed bandages though he wish he still had them to simply hide his face. He knew he looked disgusting at this point, it was horrible to the point he hated looking at mirrors. It scared him as much as it scared the others around him. He had to do the standard actions, putting his hand on a bible and swearing to tell the truth. He felt dead inside, emotionless as he had to speak of his family. His eyes focused on the man as he answered the questions. The lawyers showed him a picture of the car that had hit them, asking if it looked familiar and if he had recognized it at all. He answered yes of course. This ordeal hurt more than his injuries, he didn’t want to think of them, of everything he had seen and experienced, but if he wanted this man to go away, he knew he had to. Elliott wanted the man to suffer the way that he did.

Ugh, he hated lawyers. He knew it was their job to do this, but it put a sick feeling in his mouth when the defendant lawyer tried seeing if his father had been to blame. He had to tell them repeatedly that his father was always a careful driver, always stayed within the speed limit. In Elliott’s experience, his father had only sped once, and that had been when he had broken his arm when he was a child. “The arm that is now gone…” The teen added in a spiteful tone. After an hour more or so, the verdict was decided.

“After the evidence provided, we find the defendant guilty on the charge of manslaughter. We recommend six years jail time.” The jury had spoken as everyone looked to the judge.

The older man nodded, preparing to bang the gavel and finish this case, “Done. Court dismi-“

“What?!” Elliott yelled, standing up from his seat. “Only six years?! That’s all he gets! My entire family is dead!” He cried out, a mix of anger and pain clear in his voice, “M-my brother and sister were only eight! They never got a life!” He spoke, tears coming to his eyes, “They’re all gone! And you ruined me! Look at me!” He screamed at the man responsible.

The man looked guilty, he felt bad for what he had done, but Elliott didn’t care. “I-I’m sorry! I never meant to!”

“Sorry?!” Elliott glared, shakily wiping his tears, “Sorry doesn’t bring them back! Give me my arm back! You deserve the death penalty for what you did!” He shouted, going to run at the man but being stopped by the police officer.

The judge banged his gavel, “Order! Order in the court! Mr.Rivers I am sorry for your loss, but the law is the law. Involuntary manslaughter is different than murder. This is all we can do. Officer, please escort Mr.Rivers out of the courtroom.”

With a nod, the cop started to pull Elliott out of the court room. The teen struggled the whole way, shouting at the man the whole way, “Murderer!” He called out in choked cries. He saw the man start to cry and simply growled, “You’re crying! Yeah cry you monster!” He called before he was pushed out of the courtroom, the doors slamming behind him. Elliott frowned, looking at the doors a moment before he completely let go. He fell to his knees, the sobs starting up again as he screamed into his hand. That was it, he was alone with a gaping hole in his heart, no one to comfort him anymore.