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avis-writeshq · 6 months

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02 — haunted

summary: “something’s gone terribly wrong, you’re all i wanted.”/“you’re not gone, you can’t be gone.” pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst warnings: rated 16+ for alcohol, religious talk (inaccurate portrayal of Christianity), vomit, INCREDIBLY CANON COMPLIANT ‼️IF YOU WERE TRIGGERED BY S2 EP15 REVELATIONS IN CRIMINAL MINDS, DO NOT READ THIS‼️ wc: 10.1k a/n: another special mention to @astrophileous for beta reading and hyping me up!! love you loads zahra 🤎 (she's also doing an AMAZING derek morgan series that i have the honour in beta-in so if you have time please do check it out!! it is an absolute work of art) SPARKS FLY MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

There is never a dull day when working at the BAU. After weeks of cases and paperwork, a night out was exactly what everyone needed. A place to get drunk, have fun and unwind– and O'Keefe's was the exact place to do just that.

“You know, you can at least try to look like you’re having fun,” Emily muses, nudging your shoulder.

Emily joined the team soon after Elle had resigned, and as much as you missed your friend, you enjoyed Emily’s company. She’s too observant for her own good; grinning at you from across the room whenever you have the slightest interaction with certain people. She’s a brilliant addition to the team, much to your chagrin, but you know it’s all in good fun. Well, all in good fun for her.

You shoot her a playful glare, sipping on your drink. “I am having fun!”

“Liar,” Emily says instantly, grinning at you. “C’mon, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you deny, “I’m just tired. Things have been… busy to say the least. I’m just glad that the team is getting some R&R. Well deserved, might I add. How are you? You know, with joining the team and all that.”

She smiles in your direction before downing a shot and shrugging. “It’s been good! Yeah, everyone is so… welcoming. It’s nice.”

“Different to a desk job?” You ask with a teasing lilt in your voice.

Emily laughs softly. “Yeah, totally.”

Your gaze shifts to where Spencer is sitting, for once enjoying himself in such a crowded area. He’s talking to two strangers at a table, his hands gesticulating as he explains something and the two people seem thoroughly amused.

“So… Spencer, huh?”

You frown. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

Emily laughs, “You’re staring at him with heart eyes. Anyone can tell. Except for him, apparently.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“For a profiler, you’re a horrible liar.”

You let out something that sounds akin to a dying cow, turning your attention back to your drink. Your attention wavers and it shifts back to Spencer who is enthusiastically talking about something to the two amused guests. He grins at them as they drink, his own cup still full. Derek is thoroughly enjoying himself as he dances with a group of girls, and you can see Aaron and Haley dancing together on the floor as well. It’s wholesome, seeing everyone in their casual wear and just having fun.

“You should talk to him,” Emily tries again, nudging you. “I’ll buy you a drink if you do.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re bribing me to talk to my best friend?”

“I’m bribing you to give me entertainment,” she corrects, laughing.

“You’re horrible,” you tell her, smiling, as you walk past her in Spencer’s direction. “I expect that drink to be delivered to me.”

“Deal!” She calls after you, downing a shot as she watches you.

Spencer smiles when he sees you make your way over to him, shuffling his chair to the side to give you more room.

“Hi,” he murmurs, pulling your seat closer to him. “Having fun?”

“I should be asking that to you,” you respond, smiling. The two people he was once talking to take their leave, giggling about something you couldn’t quite make out. “I didn’t mean to scare away your company.”

He immediately shakes his head at your words. “I’d rather talk to you anyway.”

You can’t help the silly grin that spreads across your face or the way your cheeks heat up and you cough. “Well, I hope I can live up to your expectations.”

Spencer laughs, his hand gravitating to your knee and he squeezes good-naturedly. “You exceed them.”

You think he’s trying to kill you and you swear you stop breathing as you choke out, “I’m glad.”

It isn’t long before Emily makes good on her promise, and a waiter appears on your left. He presents a drink to your table, the glass adorned with a lemon rind and a raspberry, and you eagerly take a gulp.

Spencer frowns a little as he watches you drink. “Aren’t you going to question who it’s from?”

“I know who it’s from,” you respond cheerfully, letting out a contented sigh. You offer the drink to him, moving the straw so that it’s pointing in his direction. “Want some?”

He eyes the pink drink suspiciously. “What is it?”

“It’s a Pink Bikini!” You chirp, sipping the drink again. “Like… coconut rum, raspberries, and lemonade. It’s good, Spence, you can barely taste the alcohol.”

His nose scrunches at the idea of coconut rum. “I dunno.”

“You’re not gonna get drunk from one sip,” you protest happily, a little tipsy. “It’s good! Besides, how do you know you’re not going to like it if you never try it?”

“You’re literally drunk right now!” He points out, laughing a little and moving the drink out of your reach. “Give it to me.”

“That’s only because I had a couple drinks earlier,” you argue, lunging for the glass. You’re quick but Spencer is quicker (and taller), and he chugs the drink before slamming it back onto the table. “Spencer!”

He grins at you, smacking his lips as he plays with the paper straw. “I’m protecting you, (Y/N). Who knows what you would’ve done if you drank any more.”

“You’re insufferable,” you chastise half-heartedly, “I was thirsty.”

“I have water,” he says, fishing a plastic bottle out of his satchel. He cracks the lid open, taking a sip himself before passing it to you. “Drinking even moderate amounts of alcohol can lead to dehydration. Drinking water slows down this effect, allowing the liver to metabolise the alcohol that was already consumed. This also means you won’t have as bad a hangover tomorrow morning.”

You beam at him, taking tentative sips from his water bottle. The fact that you’re drinking from the same bottle as him is not lost on you, nor the fact that he finished your drink by using your straw– your lipgloss stained straw– and he didn’t even bat an eye.

“What would I do without you?” You croon, handing his bottle back.

“Probably die of dehydration,” he responds, taking one last gulp of water, before returning the bottle back to his bag.

“Ah, yes, that’s right,” you laugh again, beaming at him. You’re not sure if it’s from the drinks, but you can feel your cheeks begin to flush. Did it get hotter in here?

“Hey, sorry to be the bearer of bad news but we have a case,” JJ pats your shoulder sympathetically, frowning. “Horrible timing, but it’s urgent.”

You all but whine. “But I’m tipsy.”

“I’ve got aspirin in my bag,” JJ says, “you’ll be fine.”

“Stupid serial killer,” you huff, getting up from your seat. “They owe me a day off.”

***

“You know it never fails. Just as I’m getting my groove thang going, bam! We’re back at the BAU,” Derek says, pouring himself a much needed cup of coffee and sitting at the roundtable.

Spencer shrugs. “You know, statistically, a case doesn’t come in with any more frequency if you’re at a party or gathering than if you aren’t. It’s a… trick of the mind. We merely remember the ones that came in that way more.”

“Besides, how long does it take for you to get your ‘groove thang’ going anyway?” You tease, sipping from your own cup of coffee, and Emily cackles from beside you.

“Only when he’s sleeping,” Gideon comments, walking into the conference room and taking off his coat.

Hotch’s brows raise in a mixture of surprise and concern. “Where were you tonight?”

“I told you, I went to the Smithsonian,” he grunts as he sits into his chair.

“You missed a good time,” Emily insists, smiling.

“I had a good time,” Gideon responds, his attention turning back to the screen where JJ was getting ready to present the latest case.

“Well, that’s definitely over,” she says, flicking the screen on. “Georgia. The Kyles– Dennis and Lacy– were murdered an hour ago in the suburban Atlanta home.”

Hotch’s brows raise in surprise. “An hour ago?”

JJ nods. “Police were on the scene unusually fast.”

“Why?” Derek asks, leaning over the table.

“One of the UnSubs called them and told them that the other was about to murder the victims.”

You huff out a laugh in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

“From inside the house.” JJ purses her lips, gesturing to the transcript that was printed out in their files. “According to the dispatcher, the first male sounded terrified and begged them to get there before the other, who they both identified as Raphael, was about to kill the sinners that lived there.”

“‘Sinners’?” Hotch echoes.

JJ nods again, a grimace painted over her features. “The 911 centre is going to send Garcia the tape.”

“How fast was the police response time?” Spencer asks, glancing at the screen.

“Four minutes, twenty-six seconds. During which time Raphael was able to do…” JJ clicks a button on the remote and an array of gruesome crime scene photos popped up onto the screen. “This.”

“In four and a half minutes?” Emily asks incredulously, frowning.

Garcia immediately turns away from the screen, clutching her mug closer to her chest. You can’t help but cringe as well from the violence presented in the photos: blood everywhere, smeared across the walls and floors of the house, and the victims lifeless.

“Mr. Kyle is a dot-com millionaire. His company is one of the largest employers in the community. There’s going to be media coverage. Also, when they arrived, the police found this displayed prominently on the bed.”

Another image appears on the screen, this time a page of the Bible placed into a plastic evidence bag with a certain section highlighted.

“Revelation, Chapter 6, Verse 8,” Hotch reads for the rest of the team.

Derek can’t help but scoff. “They’re killing sinners.”

“These guys are on a mission. And mission-based killers will not stop killing,” Spencer says with a wince.

“‘And I looked, and behold, a pale horse, and his name that sat upon him was Death,” Hotch begins, eyes trained on the Bible page.

Gideon continues, his voice quiet and grim, “And Hell followed with him.”

***

You sigh tiredly as you slump into the seat beside Spencer, playing with the cap of your water bottle. The sky outside is painted in oranges and purples as the sun begins to rise, and you try to hold back the frustrated groan when you see the blaring ‘4:22AM’ flash on your watch.

“Is everything okay?” Spencer asks quietly, looking over at you.

You shake your head, running your fingers through your hair. “I just… I have a bad feeling about this case. There’s something… off about it.”

He hums in thought, “we’ve dealt with religious motives before, though.”

“I know but just–” you huff, leaning against the headrest. “It’s just weird. I mean, usually if one of the UnSubs were partnered with someone who was a liability, they’d eliminate them. But that’s just not happening here.”

“Don’t think about the case,” Spencer says gently, resting the palm of his hand flat against your knee. “It’ll be fine, trust me.”

When you don’t respond, he pokes your cheek gently shooting you a lopsided smile. “Hey. It’ll be okay.”

“I hope it will be,” you respond quietly, moving so that your cheek is pressed against his shoulder. “But you saw those images; what the UnSubs can do in less than five minutes. I know it’s nothing we haven’t seen before but–”

“(Y/N).” He squeezes your knee again and you flush as he continues to speak. “It’ll be okay. We’ll be back home before you know it. Trust me.”

You nod, although you can’t shake this feeling off. “Promise you’ll be safe?”

Spencer smiles at you. “Promise.”

***

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” you mutter, turning away as the video of Mr. Kyle being murdered plays on repeat. Your stomach churns at the mere mental image that pops up in your mind, and a chill run downs your spine.

The case is a lot more gruesome than you expected it to be, especially when it came to the team’s attention that a video of the murder was circulating the internet. The video was currently being played on loop, with the voice of the UnSubs playing out of the computer. You thought you saw it all but this was unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.

That is, until Spencer stood from his seat.

“Agent Franks?” He whispers, looking towards the lead detective. “Does this building have wireless internet?”

Agent Franks nods. “Yeah. Why?”

Spencer swallows, gesturing to the computer. “That camera’s on right now. The computer has connected itself to the internet; it’s streaming a video feed somewhere.”

Hotch’s concern only deepens, along with the frown on his face. “Can we trace the stream to the destination?”

“If we keep it open, Garcia might be able to–” Spencer begins, only to be cut off by a beeping from the computer.

In bright red lettering, the words: ‘THE ARMIES OF SATAN SHALL NOT PREVAIL’ flash against the black screen before turning off.

“So, they’re controlling it remotely?” Hotch asks, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Is that even possible?” Emily asks in disbelief.

“Yeah, you can totally access someone’s computer remotely. It’s actually done a lot today when a mortal calls for tech support. Instead of giving you instructions the tech can work on your computer from wherever she is,” Garcia explains through the phone.

“And they maintain the access even after the work is done?” Hotch asks.

“They’re not supposed to, but I suppose you could install a Trojan horse.”

Spencer turns to Gideon. “Something left in the computer to be turned on later. It’s the same way that websites get pop-up ads onto your computer.”

“Garcia can you check the Kyles’ phone records and see if they called tech support in the last six months?” Hotch requests as he flips through the Kyle family’s folder.

“Right-o. Oh, and if you get me the laptop I can search the drive for anything implanted there.”

Hotch nods. “As fast as we can.”

“By the way, this video? It’s gone crazy viral.”

Gideon frowns. “What does that mean?”

“That means it’s the most downloaded video on the entire Internet. Worldwide. And judging by the responses people seem to think it’s pretty cool.”

“Call us if you find anything on the Kyles’ computer,” Hotch mutters, before the phone hangs up.

“Honestly, they probably don’t even realise that the video is real,” you say quietly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I mean, you see a video on the internet. The last thing you’d think is that it’s actual people being murdered.”

“They probably think that it’s marketing for a horror film or something,” JJ adds on, but the look on her face is just as disgusted.

“Well, the UnSubs were right about one thing,” Derek mutters, nodding grimly. “The world is pretty screwed up.”

***

After hours of going through files and trying to find a paper trail, you’re left with a mountain of paperwork in front of you and sore eyes. You press the pads of your fingers against the corner of your eyes, slumping over the table.

“Hey.”

Spencer’s voice brings you out of your thoughts and you peek a look at him. “Hm?”

A takeaway cup of coffee is placed in front of you and you immediately perk up. He chuckles softly, patting your head. “You looked like you needed it.”

You spy the name written across the paper cup and frown. “It’s your coffee.”

“You need it more than me,” he says honestly, smiling. “Besides, I’m okay.”

You take a tentative sip of the drink, the sweetness of the sugar overwhelming the bitter taste of the coffee but you don’t mind it. Instead, you didn’t actually mind it; especially because it’s from him.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “We can share it if you want.”

He shakes his head ‘no’, turning back to the files on the page. “Where did you get up to?”

“Nowhere special. Agent Franks is right; there’s nothing in any of the files relating to knife fights that are remotely similar to the case,” you say, slumping against the table and leaning your head on your arm. “I’ve got six or so left to go through but I’m not getting much luck anyway.”

At that moment, JJ enters the room, holding another cream coloured file. “What if we were looking at this the wrong way?”

Hotch turns to her. “What do you mean?”

“I looked for unsolved home invasions. Three months ago there was a prowler called in directly outside of the Kyles’ house.”

Your brows knit together at her words and look up at her. “A prowler?”

JJ nods. “The witness was walking his dog in a nearby park. Going back to his car, he saw a man in dark clothing go over the back wall and start sneaking up to the house. By the time the police got there, the prowler was gone.”

“Only one man?” Hotch asks.

“Apparently.”

“Was the witness able to describe the man?” Spencer questions.

JJ looks into the papers before shaking her head. “If he did, it’s not in this case file.

Hotch looks at JJ then back at the corkboard. “Is there a name and address to the witness?”

“Tobias Hankel,” JJ reads. “Lives about an hour from here.”

Hotch lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing his eyes. “It’s a long shot, but he might be able to give us a description. Why don’t you and Reid go out there, see if you can find Mr Hankel, and see if he remembers anything.”

You immediately frown, perking up at his words. “I can go too, sir. There’s a safety in numbers.”

“You’re exhausted and we need you here,” Hotch says, immediately shutting your suggestion down. “We don’t need three people to talk to a witness.”

Your face falls and your stomach churns. “I understand that, sir, but it’s late and wouldn’t it be safer if more people go?”

“We’ll be fine,” Spencer reassures, squeezing your arm. “We’ll be armed and we’ve got our phones.”

A small breath escapes you and you nod slowly, chewing your bottom lip. “Okay. Be safe.”

He smiles. “I will.”

JJ snickers lightly, turning to Hotch. “Be safe,” she echoes, grinning.

Hotch can’t help but chuckle as he returns with, “I’ll be so safe.”

“Oh shut up,” you laugh, rolling your eyes. “I’m gonna kill you.”

JJ grins. “But how will that keep us safe?”

You throw an eraser at her shoulder in response and she laughs loudly, walking out of the room. Spencer squeezes your arm again, rubbing your shoulder through the fabric of his jumper before following after her.

It isn’t long before the lead detective rushes into the room, his words flying out of his mouth. “Agent Hotchner, we got another murder.”

***

“Tobias Hankel is the UnSub.”

Five words is all it takes for your world to come crashing down around you. Hankel? The UnSub? Your mouth is dry as the head detective explains about the dogs and you think you’re going to throw up. Your mind spins and your chest pounds with anxiety because oh God, what’s going to happen to the others?

“We sent Spencer and JJ there,” you whisper, your throat closing up. You tug desperately at your collar, trying to breathe. “Oh my God, we sent them there. We sent them there.”

“Hey, hey,” Derek is quick to ground you, gripping your shoulders firmly. “They’ll be okay. It’s Spencer Genius Reid and Jennifer Bad-ass Jareau. They’ll be okay.”

You shake your head firmly, pulling away from his grasp and clutching your head. “I should be there with them. I should have gone with them. We don’t know what Tobias is capable of, Morgan, something could have happened to them.”

“We’re dispatching police now,” the detective says, getting off the phone.

Tears spill from the corners of your eyes and you try to keep your breathing steady. It doesn’t work. The room is spinning and you can’t see straight. The words your team are trying to get through to you fades into background noise and you let out a choked sob.

“They could be–” Your words don’t make it off your tongue and you turn, gesturing to the black screen that was once playing the video of the woman and the dogs. “Oh my God.”

“(Y/N),” Emily holds your shoulders tightly, her words a mixture of firmness and care as she tries to snap you out of it. “They’re going to be okay. We have to go there now.”

“They can’t be gone. Spencer can’t be gone,” you say, more to yourself than anything. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s go. We have to find them.”

The others don’t need to be told twice. You get into the passenger seat with Emily, trying to calm your breathing. One hour is too long. Why does Tobias have to live so far away? You press the palm of your hand to your mouth, the lump in your throat getting bigger. Hot tears fall down your cheeks as the world becomes a blur of flashing lights and you try not to cry. It’s your fault. You should have been there with him. There’s safety in numbers. Why didn’t you trust your gut?

“Don’t do that,” Emily says sternly, gripping the wheel tighter.

You can’t bring yourself to respond, merely shaking your head adamantly.

“Stop blaming yourself,” Emily tries again, glancing at you for a second before turning her attention back to the road. “It’s not your fault.”

“I should be there with them.” Your voice cracks pathetically and you wipe furiously at your eyes.

“You couldn’t have known.”

“I should have.”

She looks at you again. “Stop. You couldn’t have known. It’s not your fault.”

The rest of the car ride is silent. You’ve learned that this is the hardest part of the job: losing someone. Losing someone because of a job. It seems ridiculous, considering that it’s something so miniscule in the grand scheme of things, and yet it is the most common factor in divorces. A lack of commitment. Instead of committing to something that actually matters and can’t be replaced, their attention turns to something so lacklustre. If Spencer were here he would tell you the exact statistics. If Spencer were here, you wouldn’t even need to think about the statistics.

The sound of sirens echo through the once quiet country area and the police officers file out of their cars. You fasten your Kevlar vest over your chest hastily, fumbling with the clasps as you jump out of the car.

“John, Bobby, take the house with Hotch, Gideon and (L/N),” the captain orders, pointing towards the house.

Your stomach lurches as Hotch busts the door open, and you move upstairs with your gun pointed out.

“Clear!” You yell, rendezvousing with Hotch and Gideon soon after.

“Downstairs is clear,” Hotch says, nodding towards you.

“Then where the hell is he?” Gideon mutters, looking around the rooms of the house.

The blood rushes to your ears and the air grows thick. You can’t breathe. The house is unmaintained with mould growing in the corners of the rooms and dust gathering on the shelves, the paint on the walls cracking from water damage. Your eyes sting as the air pricks at your skin, and your legs carry you down the stairs and out the house.

“JJ,” you breathe, your eyes wide as you meet the blonde sitting at the back of an ambulance. You pull her into a hug. “You’re okay.”

It’s a different JJ to what you’re used to. She’s always been put together with not a hair out of place. She’s usually so full of life and mirth, bringing a sense of serenity and security when you need it most but this…

Her blue eyes are red and puffy from crying and she’s shaking miserably against your body. She scratches at her wrists and picks at the bandages, her bottom lip trembling. Her gun is set beside her, not in the holster she usually carries it in.

“(Y/N),” she sobs, her voice cracking. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“What happened?” You demand. “Where’s Spencer?”

“I’m so sorry,” she repeats, shaking her head. “I tried–”

“Where is he, Jennifer?” You ask, pulling away from her like she burned you. “Where is he?”

She sobs again, clutching her head. “I don’t know, we separated–”

“What do you mean you separated?!” You’re trying not to scream. Your thoughts are running a million miles an hour. Spencer is gone. He’s gone. “Why would you do that?”

Jennifer lets out a wail, trying to explain herself through broken words. “We didn’t– he said– I’m sorry I’m sorry–”

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t bring him here, does it?” The words are harsh and low, and you tug at your collar again. “He’s not here, Jennifer! Does that mean nothing to you?!”

“(L/N), that’s enough.”

Hotch’s voice makes you snap your head in his direction and you see red.

“I told you I should have gone with them,” you snap, and it doesn’t even occur to you that this man is your boss. “If I went with them, Spencer would still be here right now!”

“(L/N).”

“No.” You glare at him menacingly, too deep in your anger to even comprehend anything else. “He should be here right now! He should– he should be spouting out statistics or coming up with some theory! He should be here and he’s not!”

“We’ll find him. Trust me.”

“I did!” You yell, your voice fervent. “I trusted your judgement! And look where that got us. Spencer is gone. He’s not here, Hotch, because I trusted you!”

“(Y/N), enough.” Hotch is firm and he stares you down. “That is enough, do I need to remind you who you are speaking to?”

In an instant you stop, your heart lurching and you quiver. “... This is my fault.”

He immediately shakes his head no. “It’s not your fault.”

“I should have gone with him. I should have– it’s my fault. It’s my fault.” Your eyes well with tears and you tug at your hair erratically. “He can’t be gone. He’s not gone. He’ll figure something out. Why didn’t I do something? I should have–”

“Stop it. (Y/N), stop.” Hotch grips your shoulders squarely, bending down so that he’s eye level with you. “Take deep breaths.”

Your lungs burn as you try to breathe, hot ragged breaths leaving your lips shakily as you cover your face with the palms of your hands. Tears fall down your cheeks and gather in your hands as you make a desperate attempt to calm yourself down. It’s all too much. The sky is pitch black and the feeling of cold rain stings and bites your skin. The sounds of sirens fade away and for a moment it’s just quiet. Quiet, except for the words and the voices that swirl in your mind.

“A man that matches Hankel’s description was spotted in the next town over.”

Derek’s words bring you out of your thoughts and you manage a soft, “What?”

“Alright,” Hotch nods, before turning back to you. “Go back to the police department.”

“What?” Your ears are ringing. You must have heard wrong. “No. No, no, I can’t– no, Hotch, I’m not going back to the police department. Spencer is missing.”

“You’re too close to the case.”

A humourless laugh leaves your lips as you stare at him. “We’re all too close to the case, Hotch. Look around!”

“You attacked JJ and you raised your voice at me. I want you to go back to the police department and work the case from there.” He speaks to you as if he were speaking to a child and it makes you feel sick.

“Oh, so you’re punishing me?”

“No, I’m using you,” he says firmly, and then his voice softens. “It won’t do you any good to be here, (Y/N), you know that.”

“Aaron,” you try again, your voice wavering. “Please, don’t do this to me.”

“Go back and find us something that we can use.” He turns to one of the policemen. “Make sure she gets there.”

The policeman nods, tipping his hat, and gesturing for you to follow him.

“Wait I– let me talk to JJ. I need– just, please,” you say quickly, clearing your throat. “Sir.”

He’s sceptical before nodding. “Go ahead.”

You don’t need to be told twice. In moments you turn back to the ambulance, letting out a heavy breath. “I’m sorry.”

JJ shakes her head adamantly. “No, you’re right. It was my fault.”

“It’s not,” you say quietly. “I know Spencer and I know you. It was… probably his idea to split up.”

She smiles wryly, fiddling at the bandage on her arm.

“It’s not your fault,” you say again. You’re not sure who you’re trying to convince anymore. “You went through something too and I ignored that and that wasn’t right of me. I’m sorry.”

JJ sniffles, pursing her lips. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you respond quietly, patting her arm. “I need to go. Um, Hotch wants me off the case, or something.”

She nods. “Okay.”

You look at her again, the guilt building like bile in your stomach. “I really am sorry.”

“I know,” she whispers, wiping the tears away from her eyes. “We’ll find him.”

You don’t respond.

***

Everything hurts. His head is pounding and he can feel the sticky blood drip from the side of his head and against his cheek. His feet hurt from each thwack of wood, and his wrists hurt from the handcuffs. It’s cold. So, so cold, and he feels so weak. No amount of knowledge or training could have prepared him for this.

Spencer’s throat throbs from crying. No matter how many times he tries to convince whatever personality is taking over Tobias, it never seems to work. What’s the point of being a profiler if he can’t even save himself?

The creaking of the door brings him out of his thoughts and he jolts. Tobias, at least who appears to be Tobias, enters the room carrying a slaughtered animal. A shiver runs down Spencer’s spine and all he can do is watch.

“You need to eat,” the man says, his voice strangely soft and oddly calm.

“What’s your name?” Spencer asks, his voice small.

The man looks back at him. “Tobias.”

“Tobias, who was here before?” The fear is obvious in his voice and Spencer just wishes for an ounce of Hotch’s stoicism or Derek’s bravery.

Tobias chuckles weakly. “It was probably my father. I’m sorry if he hurt you.”

Before he could comprehend his movements, Tobias takes off his belt and walks over to him. Spencer fears the worst. Did Tobias’s father take over again? He tries to inch away, struggling against the restraints as best he could.

“W-What are you doing?” Spencer asks shakily, trying to pull away from him.

Tobias doesn’t respond, slipping one end of the belt above his elbow. Everything begins to click.

“No, no. Don’t. Please, please don’t.” He resorts to begging.

In this moment, Spencer hates the way his mind works because he doesn’t need to know the statistics. He doesn’t need to know that 75% of drug abusers started out using pain killers. His head swirls with what Tobias could be using. Codeine? Heroin? Opium? The list goes on and he tries to keep his breathing steady.

“It helps,” Tobias says, ignoring the way Spencer trembles and shakes his head adamantly. “Don’t tell my father. He doesn’t know they’re here.”

Tobias takes the syringe and the bottle out of his pocket and Spencer sobs even harder. He tries to appease him again, shrinking away as best he could in his chair.

“Please,” he tries again, his chest heaving and tears wetting his waterline. “Please, I don’t want it, I don’t want it.”

“Trust me. I know.”

“Please,” he begs, tears slipping down his cheeks. “Don’t.”

Tobias doesn’t listen.

The effects are far too quick for codeine, heroin or opium and Spencer can feel it hit. He knows it’s wrong. He can go on for hours about the statistics about it but the feeling so euphoric that he can’t help it. And then he sees it.

“We have another recruit as well. Came in a couple weeks ago,” Derek told him, walking him through the halls of the BAU headquarters. “She’s part of the academy Honours program. Top of the class, apparently.”

“Oh.” Spencer nodded slowly, fidgeting with the zip of his bag.

Derek grinned. “Relax, kid. You still have the most impressive résumé. She’s just an intern; doing paperwork, mainly.”

“I wasn’t– I wasn’t worried about that,” Spencer stammered, wetting his bottom lip. “I mean– not that I think she isn’t smart or anything. I just meant–”

“Kid, I mean it when you have to relax,” Derek snorted as he opens up the door to the bullpen “Meet the rest of the team.”

He walked through the doors, ready to make his mark. He’s spent so long believing that he was nothing but now… he took another step, meeting Hotch’s gaze and– he didn’t get very far when something catapulted into his side. There was a flurry of paper work and cream coloured files, case details splayed all over the floor. Spencer grunted a little, tumbling to the ground like a house of cards.

“Oh, my God, I am– I am so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going and I was running and I am not used to office attire! I am so sorry!”

The ramblings of a girl– she couldn’t be older than him, at least, not by much– filled Spencer’s ears and he grimaces. “No, it’s– it’s okay. Don’t– uh– don’t worry about it.”

“(Y/N)...” JJ huffed out a quiet laugh, helping the other girl to her feet. “Are you guys okay?”

“I’m okay,” Spencer said, slowly getting to his feet.

The girl didn’t do the same, instead scrambling to pick up the multitude of papers that litter the floor. “I’m fine! Just– great. Great. Brilliant.”

Spencer immediately started to reach for the papers, trying his best not crumple them up anymore than they already were. “You’re… the intern?”

“Is it that obvious?” You ask, breathless. “I’m still getting used to all…” You gesture wildly to the interior of the bullpen. “... this.”

“(Y/N), meet Doctor Spencer Reid. He’s the youngest addition to the team. Reid, meet (Y/N) (L/N). She’s part of the Academy Honours Program,” Gideon introduces, peering at the two of you from behind his glasses.

“Hi,” you said meekly, stretching out your hand.

His words hitched in his throat because once he’s gotten past the flying papers and the fact that you literally ran into him, he realises just how beautiful you are. You were right there in front of him, close enough to touch but–

“I don’t shake hands,” he said quietly, the anxiety gnawing at his stomach. His fingers twitch at his sides and he moves them to grip the handle of his satchel. “Sorry.”

You smile at him and his heart thunders in his chest. Is this how Romeo felt when he met Juliet? Or how Charles Bingley felt when he met Jane Bennett?

“It’s okay,” you told him, tucking the papers under your arm. “Don’t worry about it. So, you’re a doctor? That’s really cool!”

“Reid here got accepted into the BAU without even taking a physical exam,” Derek chimed in, practically bragging about Spencer’s intellectual prowess. “Isn’t that right, kid?”

“I’m not an athletic person,” Spencer said awkwardly, his worries dissipating when he heard you laugh good-naturedly. Regardless, he felt the urge to defend himself. “I’m not weak.”

JJ laughed along. “We know, Spencer.”

“I’m not weak… I’m not weak…”

“I don’t give a damn whether you’re weak or strong.”

Spencer barely manages to blink his eyes open as he hears the familiar timbre of Tobias’s father’s voice fill the room. He’s slowly coming down from the high of the drugs and the room spins as he does.

“Yell all you want boy,” Tobias sneers, bending down so that he’s eye level with Spencer. “Ain’t no one gonna hear you where you are.”

As if to prove his point, he begins to scream. Deep and rumbly, and it jolts Spencer back to reality. He wishes he was careful. He wishes he was with you.

***

“Tobias has dissociative identity disorder,” Garcia explains to you through the phone, and you slap a hand to your forehead.

“That makes so much sense,” You mutter to yourself, pacing around the room of the police department. “I should have seen it. It was right there in front of me and I missed it.”

Penelope hums, her voice tense with worry. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. No one knew until we started digging into the journals and cross-checking dates.”

“I know but–” You rub your eyes, cringing as stars litter your vision– “it was just so obvious. What else have you gotten?”

It has been a little over ten hours since Hotch sent you back to the police department and you haven’t gotten much sleep. You tried, you swear you tried, but every time you see the terrified face of Spencer and it makes you sick. The whiteboard in front of you is littered with different evidence files and profiles. Profiles on Tobias, profiles on the victims, geographical profiles… the list goes on.

“We know that Tobias is an addict,” Emily says. “He picked dilaudid as his poison.”

“For someone so hellbent on following the Bible, he’s incredibly hypocritical,” You say, jotting down the words onto the whiteboard.

“His personality is split into that of his father, Charles, and Raphael,” Emily continues, and you can hear the frown in her voice.

You’re about to say something when Garcia’s voice raises by an octave.

“Oh God,” she squeaks, and you can hear the clicking of keys in the background. “Morgan? Emily, get the others, oh my God!”

“What’s going on?” You demand urgently, gripping the phone tighter. “Garcia, what’s going on?”

“It’s Spencer,” her voice is hushed and far from the speaker, and your heart sinks to your stomach.

“What happened? Penelope, what happened?”

“We have to go,” she says hurriedly, and the sound of footsteps from the rest of the team fill the speaker.

“No! Wait, don’t hang—“

The sound of the prolonged dial tone echoes in your ears and you resist the urge to scream. You press the pads of your fingers to your eyes, hot tears wetting your skin. Crying will get you nowhere and you know that. You know that Spencer is holding on. He’s relying on the BAU to save him.

You gather all the available files on Charles Hankel, spreading them around the table. There’s not much to read; he’s lived a relatively quiet life. He was a farmer, his wife left him… dead end. Again. You’re at your wit’s end and you grab your keys.

“John, want to work on a federal case?” You ask, shaking your keys. The younger policeman nods eagerly and you point to the door. “Great. Let’s go.”

It’s a small country town in Atlanta. Someone has to know something, especially if Tobias was a drug abuser.

“We’re going to a few Narcotics Anonymous groups,” You explain to John who looks a little too excited to be sitting in a federal car. “Ask questions on Tobias Hankel and Charles Hankel. Someone has to know something.”

“All due respect, um, ma’am,” John stammers, and you raise an eyebrow amusedly. He coughs before continuing, “why aren’t you with the rest of the team?”

You falter, turning your attention back to the road. “They need me to work it from here. It doesn’t matter, anyway.”

Two miserable hours pass by with not much luck. Two hours that could have been used for something more meaningful than asking a bunch of drugged up assholes about the UnSub. Anxiety claws at your chest again as you flick through the answers. It’s nothing you didn’t already know.

“I got something,” John says a little breathlessly, jogging back over to you.

“Yes?” You need something. Anything.

“A few sheep were stolen off of a farmer’s property,” he says, flipping through the notebook and reading off his scrawny handwriting. “Wasn’t Charles a farmer?”

“What does that have to do with–” You feel your mouth go dry and you turn to him. “Which farm?”

“Which– um…” He swallows. “Mcallister? Shawn Mcallister.”

In seconds you’re dialling Garcia again and she picks up with a trembling, “hello?”

“Is Spencer alive?” You ask firmly, slamming the car door.

“Y-Yes. He’s– it’s not good, (Y/N),” she whimpers, clicking on the keyboard. “There was another murder. Spencer had to– he had to– he had to choose who to save. The UnSub fed a video to us, (Y/N), it’s horrible.”

There was another murder? John seizes up beside you and you grimace. You keep forgetting that John is practically a kid, barely twenty-one, and he hasn’t even seen the horrors of the world yet.

“But he came back, right? To Spencer?” You ask, gripping the steering wheel tighter in an effort to keep yourself steady. “Penelope, Tobias posted a video of the latest murder, right? When was it posted?”

“9:23,” she says woefully, typing away.

“Okay, and…” you check the police radio, biting your lip nervously. “Okay, it says that the call for the murder came in at 9:04.”

There’s a little static in the background along with some shuffling before she responds. “Um… okay?”

“John, I need a map. Where’s– goddamn it– where’s the map of the area, John?!”

He fumbles, spreading the paper open. “Here!”

“That road– it’s 60 miles an hour, right? That means he needs to be–” you scribble across the map, frowning. “That’s within seventeen miles of the crime scene. There’s a farm, uh, poaching or something. Mcallister farm?”

“We’ll find something,” Penelope says quietly. “I’ll try find the farm area. He is going to be okay, I promise.”

You let out a heavy breath. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

***

The guilt alone is enough to kill him. Spencer knows that he is not at fault for this; Gideon said so. Regardless, he can’t get their faces out of his head. They were happy. What if they had kids? They were good people; they didn’t deserve to die the way they did. Spencer’s head pounds as he slumps against the chair, his breath quickening when he realises that Tobias is right there.

“Sorry, I had to leave for a while,” Tobias, the real Tobias, says quietly, strapping the belt to Spencer’s arm again.

He’s felt this so many times now. The high, and then the inevitable low. There’s no point fighting it, Spencer tries to justify, it’s biology.

“You can leave again,” he says softly, “and you can take me with you.”

“My father would be angry,” Tobias says, drawing the liquid up the syringe.

“Not if he can’t find us.”

Tobias scoffs. “He always finds me.”

“If you tell me where we are, my friends will come and they’ll save us,” Spencer pleads, trying to look him in the eye.

“We can’t be saved,” he says dismissively, flicking the syringe.

Spencer sniffles, and for a split second he feels the fear course through his veins. “We can. We can, I promise, if you tell me where we are I’ll save us both.”

“Listen to me. It’s not worth fighting.” Tobias pauses, readying the syringe. “Tell me it doesn't make it better.”

The silence that follows is humiliating. He hates the way that he isn’t fighting anymore but he can’t. It’s almost as if his body doesn’t even want to listen to him. Tobias doesn’t waste another moment and the familiar feeling of artificial ecstasy floods Spencer’s mind.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

The phrase was so unfamiliar and Spencer’s brows furrowed as he looked at you. It has been a couple weeks since you were officially indoctrinated into the BAU and he couldn’t be any happier. It felt nice to talk to someone who was his age, especially because he never really knew anyone of his age back in Las Vegas.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

You laughed and his heart fluttered in his chest. He remembered the feeling distinctly; how could he forget? The feeling is still the same now.

“I mean… tell me something not a lot of people know about you. Like… okay, I’ll go first. Um… my favourite flowers are hydrangeas. The purple ones.”

He committed that information to memory. Every year for your birthday he would buy you a new pot of hydrangeas for your apartment or something flower related like an automatic waterer or a replacement sun lamp.

“Hydrangea macrophylla,” Spencer said slowly, his cheeks flushed. “It means… gratitude, grace, and beauty. It’s fitting.”

He relished in the way your eyes lit up and the way you smiled at him. “Okay, your turn. Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

“Um… my middle name is Walter?” He chuckled awkwardly, wetting his bottom lip. “No one really calls me that, though.”

You typed something on your computer, reading out loud, “The name Walter is Germanic in origin and means ‘commander of the army’.”

His cheeks burned in embarrassment and he nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

“I like it.” You grinned at him. “Walter.”

Spencer choked a little, the hairs on his neck standing on end and heat crawling up his cheeks. “You– you don’t have to call me that.”

“I won’t if you don’t like it,” you told him.

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” he said quickly, his eyes widening. “I’m just not used to it.”

He remembers the way you beamed at him and the way he felt knowing that he made you happy.

“Well then,” You began, meeting his gaze, “I guess that means I just have to call you that more often.”

Tobias’s yelling brings him back and all he can do is stare as he watches him slam on the keyboard angrily. A bright red pop up is flashing on his computer, and Tobias turns to Spencer with a murderous scowl.

“They’re trying to silence my message.”

“I can’t control what they do,” Spencer defends tearfully, his voice wavering. “I’m not with them, I’m with you.”

Tobias scoffs again. “Really?”

He types something onto the keyboard and Gideon’s face show’s up on the screen. He’s leaning towards the camera, his words a mantra that Spencer repeats in his mind.

“Reid,” the crackly audio sounds with Gideon’s voice, “if you’re watching, you’re not responsible for this, understand me? He’s perverting God to justify murder. You are stronger than him. He cannot break you.”

Tobias slams the computer off, walking back to him. “You think you can defy me?”

“I don’t know what he’s talking about–”

“You’re a liar!”

Spencer can only grimace in response, the words caught in his throat. Tobias must have been able to see something and the fear creeps into his heart again as the man lunges for his arm. Tobias forces Spencer’s sleeve up and the guilt crashes like waves.

“You’re pitiful,” Tobias sneers, “Just like my son.”

Spencer wracks out a sob, silent pleas of mercy never leaving his lips. Maybe he does deserve this. Maybe, in some sick and twisted way, the universe is out to get him for all his shortcomings. Maybe, he thinks to himself as he watches Tobias turn the camera on, maybe he does deserve to die this way.

“This ends now,” Tobias snarls. “Confess your sins.”

“No,” he whimpers.

Tobias’s fist collides with the side of Spencer’s face with a resounding slap.

“Confess!”

“I haven’t done anything…”

His fist meets Spencer’s cheek again and all he can do is recoil in his chair.

“Tobias, help me,” he manages, but his plea is shut down almost instantly.

“He can’t help you, he’s weak. Confess!” He hits him again and the pain is almost too much to bear. “Confess your sins.”

Spencer sobs. “No…”

In a fit of anger, Tobias throws Spencer to the ground. It hurts. Everything hurts as he feels the back of his head meet the cold musty ground. He can’t breathe. He feels like he’s underwater. Have to breathe, he needs to breathe, why can’t he breathe? He needs to see you again. He can’t die like this. He can’t, he can’t, he needs to breathe. He tries to take a breath of air but it’s like his mouth is full of water. And just when he thinks he reached the surface, he’s pulled under once again.

Warmth. The feeling of his blood pumping to his ears is the first thing Spencer feels and his fingers twitch. He’s alive. There’s only one reason why that must have happened.

“I was given CPR,” he rasps out, Tobias’s words swirling in his head.

“There are no accidents,” Tobias says slowly. “How many members are in your team?”

Spencer can barely whisper the word. “Eight.”

“Seven, not including you. ‘The seven angels who had the seven trumpets prepared themselves to sound. The first sounding followed hail and they were thrown to Earth’.” He hoists Spencer’s chair upright, standing before him. “Tell me who you serve.”

“I serve you.”

“Then choose one to die.”

Spencer blanches, looking up at him. “What?”

“Your team members. Choose one to die.”

He doesn’t need to think when he responds, “kill me.”

Tobias jeers. “You said you weren’t one of them.”

“I lied.”

“Your team has seven other members. Tell me who dies.”

Spencer breathes in as if it were his last. “No.”

Tobias pulls out a revolver from his jacket pocket, spinning the cylinder before aiming it for Spencer’s head. “Choose, and prove you’ll do God’s will.”

“No.”

Tobias clicks the trigger and nothing happens so he repeats, “choose.”

“I won’t do it.”

The trigger clicks again and nothing happens. “Life is a choice.”

“No.”

Spencer’s mind is racing. His first thought goes to you. He knows you would understand any and all references he throws in your direction, but it makes him sick just thinking about putting your life on the line. He needs something. He needs to think.

“Choose.”

“I choose…” his voice stammers and he can barely see straight. “Aaron Hotchner.”

***

“We got him.”

The words echo in your mind as you pace up and down your hotel room, chewing on your destroyed nailbeds. It’s nearing two in the morning and you can’t sleep. The rest of the team are awake. Why should you be given the privilege of rest when none of them were able to? Why should you be given the privilege of rest when Spencer is out there fighting for his life? It’s not fair. Life isn’t fair.

When you hear the sirens outside you run out the door. Blood is pulsing in your ears and you’re still wearing the thin hotel slippers but it doesn’t matter. How could anything else matter? The car door clicks open and Emily helps Spencer out of the car. She whispers something to him and he looks in your direction. Those big hazel eyes stare at you with so much hurt and you can’t contain it anymore.

“Spencer.”

His arms wrap around your waist, his nose pressing against your neck as he holds you, breathing in the smell of your vanilla perfume. He almost doesn’t believe you’re real. He pulls you impossibly closer, sniffling, and he can feel your fingers run through his hair.

“You’re okay,” you whisper, trying to be reassuring, but he can hear the way your voice cracks. “You’re okay.”

“I should have listened to you,” He whimpers, feeling the cold wet rain soak through his shirt. “I should have– I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be, Walter.”

The moment he hears that name spill from your lips he begins to cry. He’s okay. He’s with you now. You’re right here.

“I thought–”

You shush him for the first and last time, squeezing his arms. “It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”

He wonders how a person could be so warm. Even in the cold Atlanta weather you’re still so warm.

“Hotch wouldn’t let me work the case from the house,” you tell him quietly as you sit beside him on the bed. “Understandable. I screamed at him.”

He chuckles a little, flinching when you gently pull the bandage off the side of his face. He feels a lot better now that he’s clean, the shower more than necessary and he savours the feeling of warm water on his skin. The gash on his head is oozing sticky blood and you dispose of it accordingly, reaching into the first aid kit.

“It’s gonna sting a little,” you tell him, pressing a damp cloth to the wound.

He hisses at the contact, gripping your arm and he tries to change the subject. “Why did you scream at Hotch?”

You hum, continuing to clean the blood off his head. “I was mad at him.”

“It wasn’t his fault.”

“I know.”

You smile at him, applying a new bandage to his head. “It’s okay. I was able to help the case from here, anyway.”

“Stay with me,” he whispers, squeezing your hand. “Please?”

Your gaze softens. “Of course, Walter.”

He curls into your side, an arm wrapped around your middle and he breathes in the scent of your strawberry and honey shampoo. Your fingers curl in his hair, untangling the knots when your eyes flicker to your desk, the letter of resignation tucked inside your bag. He doesn’t need to know that. At least, not yet.

***

You knock at the door of Hotch’s office, chewing on your bottom lip. You remember being in this office for the first time four years ago when you were an intern; the way you shook with nerves and anticipation as you handed in your résumé for the honours program and then again when you were hoping to take the job full time. It’s ironic that you’re back at his office again, but for a very different reason.

“Come in.”

The breath that leaves your lips is shaky and you take a seat in front of his desk. “Hotch.”

“(Y/N).”

You place the pristine white envelope onto the desk,watching the way his face shifts from stoic to surprised.

“You don’t have to do this,” He says, not touching the envelope. “The situation at hand was stressful. No one blames you for reacting the way you did.”

“It’s not just because of that,” you say slowly. “You were right. I was too involved.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” you say quickly, a humourless laugh slipping at your words. “I would have killed him.”

Hotch looks at you, his eyes meeting yours. “You wouldn’t have.”

“I would have,” you say surely. “After what he did to Spencer, if I had found him I would have killed him. And I would have– I would have slept well. I love this team, Hotch, but I can’t separate those feelings when I’m on the field no matter how hard I try.”

He’s quiet for a moment before nodding, rising from his seat. “I’m assuming it’s a two-week’s notice?”

You nod, also getting up from your chair. “Yeah. I– I don’t want to just leave, you know?”

“We’re going to miss you,” he says, walking with you to the door, “but this will be good for you.”

“I know.” You can feel the stares of the rest of the team through the glass and you can’t help but smile. “They’re horrible at being nonchalant.”

“They’re profilers,” Aaron chuckles. “Can you blame them?”

“I guess not,” you muse, pulling the door open. “Thank you, Aaron.”

“You always have a place here, (Y/N),” he says gently as you walk back down to the bullpen.

It doesn’t take long before the overflowing dam of questions burst and in moments Emily is crossing the room and sitting next to you.

“You’re leaving the BAU?”

You look at her with wide eyes before laughing a little. “You… are very good at your job, huh?”

“Oh…” Penelope tackles you in a hug, her arms tight around your frame. “We’re going to miss you.”

JJ sniffles a little, joining the hug. “Don’t forget us.”

“As if I ever could.” A bittersweet smile rests on your lips.

Derek hugs you as well, his chin on the top of your head. “Look after yourself, kid. We’ll make these last two weeks the best you’ve ever had.”

“If you ever need anything…” Emily begins slowly, squeezing your hands. “I’m here, okay?”

Gideon pats your shoulder lightly, a sad smile on his face. “You’re a good person. Never forget that.”

You nod, trying to blink away the tears that fill your eyes. “I know. Thanks, you guys.”

The opening and shutting of the BAU doors brings you out of your thoughts and the familiar head of brown hair stalking away makes your face fall. Gideon meets your gaze, gesturing towards the door. That’s all you need to run out of the bullpen.

“Spencer– Spencer, wait, please.” You tug on his arm desperately. “Please–”

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” He asks, his voice cracking. It has only been a few days since the incident and he looks a little better. The scratches on his face are still visible, but they’re fading slowly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I–” you falter, flinching at the pain and hostility in his voice. “It was never a good time.”

He scoffs quietly, rubbing at his arm. “You should have told me.”

“I couldn’t just randomly tell you,” you say, frowning. “How would that be fair?”

Spencer rubs his eyes, the dark bags beneath them even more prominent. “Why are you leaving?”

“I have to,” you say gently, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I love this job but I can’t do it anymore–”

“Why not?!”

“Because–!” You exhale, trying to calm yourself down. “Because I swore an oath when I took this job that I will put this country above myself. And I can do that. I would die for this country to protect the people in it, I will hunt down the people who make this country so unsafe and I will sacrifice myself willingly, but you? I can’t– I can’t lose you. If I had to choose between catching the UnSub and saving you, I would save you in a heartbeat. Even if that meant letting a bad guy go. Even if that meant more people would get hurt I would still choose you and I can’t let that happen.”

Your words deem him speechless and he shifts his weight on his feet. For a moment, all he can do is stare at you as your reasoning sinks in. It makes sense. He hates that it makes sense.

“So that’s it?” He asks quietly, finally looking you in the eye. “You’re actually leaving?”

“Not for another two weeks,” you tell him truthfully. “Besides, you can still text me. And call me. You know where I live so you can always visit.”

He bites the inside of his cheek anxiously, teetering on his feet before hugging you tightly, burying his nose into your hair. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

“I’m going to miss you too.”

His grip is tight around you and if you paid attention you could feel him tremble. “I can’t do this job without you.”

“Don’t say that,” you whisper. “You can, Walter. You’re stronger than you think you are.”

There are so many things he wishes he could tell you. You’re right here. He doesn’t have to yearn for your touch anymore because you’re right here in his arms. He wants to tell you so many things. Like how he adores the colour of your eyes, or the way you smile, or the way your hair falls. He wants to tell you how much he likes spending time with you and how he feels so good with you but he can’t. The words are at the tip of his tongue so how can he not say anything?

“I–” love you– “I’m really going to miss you.”

“Me too,” you whisper. “Me too.”

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confused-pyramid · 3 months

Text

Coming Up For Air | s1

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.

word count: 10.4k

warnings: canon!typical violence, mentions of abuse, death of a spouse, slow slow slow burn, specific episodes mentioned in this part are 1x01, 1x06, 1x07, 1x08, 1x15, 1x16, and 1x22

a/n: I started rewatching Criminal Minds from the beginning, and this is what came out of it heh. This is the first part in a little series I'm starting that follows Hotch and his childhood best friend in the BAU, beginning with the pilot. If all goes well, this will continue through the rest of the show, with ~1 part per season :) Title is from Coming up for air by Signals in Smoke

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You haven't used your oven in over a year. It's not that you don't like cooking - because you do - you just haven't had the time. If you could, you would blame it on the extra hours you have had to put in after starting at the BAU, but that wouldn't be fair. Your transfer to the unit was the only thing that got you through his death at all.

After your husband was shot and killed in action while tailing a kingpin of one of the New York mobs, you couldn't bear to be in this house at all. You had gone back home to stay with your father for a couple of months, but eventually you had to get back to your real life. With a month remaining on your bureau-mandated leave, you returned to the home you had shared, before one of the lower-level mob soldiers misfired -

You didn't let yourself think about it for almost a year, but time heals all wounds. The poets were right. At least you hope they are.

Even back at home, you still couldn't bear to be there alone, other than when you were sleeping. That's why your peloton was gathering dust and your kitchen went untouched, until just now.

So, of course, the call from the office comes when you're making dinner. It takes five minutes to change into slacks and a button-up, and two more to toss your half-cooked vegetables in the trash, before driving down to headquarters.

A fourth girl has been taken in Seattle, and the local PD only now decided to invite your team. You know the BAU isn't well-liked by the other departments, but that doesn't mean you aren't effective.

When you enter the building, you rush through the I.D. check and jog over to the lecture hall, where Morgan and Reid are standing outside of a neighboring office like children waiting for their father to come and get them.

Shooting them both a thin-lipped smile, you step inside just as they finish discussing the unsub's pattern.

"They want you back in the saddle," Hotch says to the man beside him after greeting you with a nod.

Your eyes are so immediately drawn to Hotch that it takes you a moment to realize that you recognize the man standing next to him. You haven't seen him since the day you were assigned to the BAU, mostly because you were technically transferred to this unit because of his extended leave.

What was supposed to be one month became six, before Hotch informed you that your temporary placement would be permanent, if you were willing to stay in Virginia.

It was a no-brainer.

You turn your gaze to Jason Gideon as everyone in the room stares at him expectantly. He looks self-assured, but you're sure the confidence is a front. "They sure they want me?"

"The order came from the director," Hotch says simply.

"Well," Gideon states, "we'd better get started, then."

Hotch glances over at you as everyone files out of the room and you raise your eyebrows momentarily, a quick check-in between the two of you. He nods imperceptibly and it's enough for now. He didn't tell you Gideon was coming back today, but now isn't the time to give him hell for that.

***

Hotch is the last to board the plane, and he takes his usual seat beside you, this time in the aisle, a few rows away from the rest of the team.

"I was going to tell you," he says as soon as you close the case file in your hands. "The section chief wants me to evaluate him to see if he's ready to return to the team."

"That's a lot of pressure." They have to know that Gideon will be able to smell him out within the day. "You sure it won't get in the way?"

Hotch makes that face you hate, the one that says he knows you're deflecting. "I was going to tell you."

It doesn't take much for you to forgive him. It helps that you trust him completely, especially after everything he has done for you.

"Still," you smile, bumping his shoulder with yours, "it would have been nice to know about the sudden change to my job security."

You're mostly joking, but his frown is genuine. "Don't be silly. You'll always have a place on this team."

He takes everything so seriously these days. You suppose it's only fair, given the files he has to sort through on a daily basis. Picking which case deserves the team's attention the most.

But he wasn't always like this. You're the newest member of the team, but you've known Hotch longer than any of them.

You still remember the first time you met him, at eight years old. He was your first real friend at school, and you became inseparable easily. Your shared love for The Beatles and Law and Order made you fast friends, and as you grew older, your interests shifted in tandem.

Sometimes when you look at him, you still see that little boy who knew too much, but still managed to always make you laugh.

***

The team disperses soon after you land in Seattle. You've never had to come up with a profile in one afternoon, but it's also been a long time since your ticking clock to find the victim was just over a day.

When Gideon and Morgan head to the latest crime scene, you join Hotch and Reid to interview the victim's brother. The moment the three of you step into his house, his dog, Sandy, starts barking up a storm.

"It's what we call the Reid effect," Hotch smiles, walking over to pet her. "Happens with children, too."

You can't help but smile as well, peering over at Spencer, who looks about as uncomfortable as he usually does.

It doesn't escape your notice that the brother looks looser now. Hotch has a way with people that traces back to his childhood self. He was always wiser than his years, something you chalk up to his need to grow up faster than he should have, but his paternal instinct comes from practically raising his brother, Sean, after his dad's untimely death.

The casual interview reveals enough about the victimology that when you head back to the station, Gideon calls the officers in to explain the profile.

You can feel Morgan's agitation wafting off of him as he watches Gideon state his assumptions with startling clarity and confidence. Hotch, on the other hand, looks contemplative, which reminds you that he's been tasked with the returning agent's evaluation.

He can see your furtive glances in his direction, even as you try to remain secretive about your interest in his demeanor. He presses his lips together to keep from smiling as he thinks about how lucky you are that you went into profiling and not covert operations.

You have never been especially good at keeping your own thoughts or intentions to yourself around him. While some would call that a weakness in this field, he sees it as your greatest strength, because it clearly shows how much he can trust you.

As a kid, you were outspoken about every idea you had, and you used your strength and willpower to look out for him when he needed it. It took him a long time to admit how much he used to need you (maybe too long), but you always knew.

***

Gideon's profile leads to the arrest of Richard Slessman and Tim Vogel, and Elle manages to save the last girl while she's still alive. You catch your breath for the first time in 36 hours as you stand with Hotch in the shipyard, watching the paramedics and local police clear the scene.

"What are you going to tell them?" you ask under your breath as his gaze turns to Gideon, who is getting patched up in the back of an ambulance.

He had goaded the unsub into shooting him instead of the girl, but your mind can't seem to focus on the silver lining.

Hotch sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, as though to hold his coat closed against the breeze. "They want to know if he's fit to be a field agent again."

Normally, you would give him shit for using that tactic. Avoiding a question by providing more information. This time, you know he's just thinking out loud.

"What would you say?" Hotch asks as Morgan walks over and sits on a barrel next to you.

"Gideon saved her life," Derek shrugs, his eyes flashing to you for a moment. "That's good enough for me."

Hotch seems to ponder this for a second. "Do you know what Gideon means in Hebrew?"

"Mighty warrior," Reid interjects, popping in to the conversation with the subtlety of a tiger.

You're confused at first, but then you remember the baby names book that was sitting in Hotch's living room the last time you visited him. "You cannot let Haley name your child Gideon."

Hotch laughs suddenly, and you can tell you surprised it out of him. Your chest warms comfortably as he smiles, his cheeks flushing softly in the chill air.

He looks over at Gideon again, deciding in real time that he's going to recommend him to come back to the team. He would never admit it to you or anyone, but he knows that if your position on the team was in jeopardy from Gideon's return, he wouldn't have been able to complete his evaluation fairly.

It was Hotch who recommended you for the open position after he was promoted into Gideon's role as unit chief. You deserved the spot, of course, but Jeff's death had still been fresh and he knew better than most how much the job can take one's mind off of the other aspects of their life.

While Hotch watches Gideon, you watch him. You can tell from the look on his face that it's a done deal. Jason's coming back to the team. It will be a change of pace for everyone, but that doesn't mean it won't be good.

Having joined the team right after the bombing, you saw exactly how Gideon changed after getting the profile wrong, but so did everyone else. What people didn't talk about was how Aaron changed too. Rising into the rank. Growing to fill the hole that Gideon left in the unit, but somehow also shrinking into himself at the same time, because that's what this job does to you...it takes and it takes and it takes until you have nothing left to give.

But sometimes that's what you need: to give something up so you know you aren't losing everything.

***

Gideon settles into the team faster than you anticipated, and soon it's almost like he never left. Even though you can see the vein on Morgan's neck pulsate every time he hijacks a profile, you can't help but appreciate the support he gives to Spencer and Elle, both of whom are becoming incredible profilers before your very eyes.

That's also why you find yourself a little worried when Hotch tells you that Reid failed his weapons recertification.

"I thought you said you were helping him practice," you say as the two of you walk past security and toward the bullpen.

"I was," he emphasizes, before correcting himself, "I did. I'm sure he was just nervous."

You nod, pushing open the doors and spotting Reid sitting quietly at his desk. "He can test again in two weeks. He'll be fine."

When Morgan hands him a whistle with a quippy joke, you sigh into your coffee tumbler, but don't bother stepping in. He's being childish, but if you try to intervene, it'll just embarrass Spencer more.

"Okay," JJ starts, "Franklin Park, Des Plaines. Yesterday afternoon."

She dives into the case, but you have already read the file (and you know Reid has too) so you scoot your chair over to his desk and lean forward so only he can hear you. "I failed my first weapons certification at the bureau too."

Spencer looks up immediately, his face colored with surprise. "Really? You're one of the best shots I know."

You smile with a shrug. "The tests aren't real life. When it comes down to it, I get the job done. Just like you will."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, but then his lips curve up into a small smile. You both turn your attention back to the front just as JJ finishes explaining the case details.

"Wheels up in 30."

The flight to Illinois is filled with heated discussions about the bureau's fruitless history of trying to profile long distance serial killers.

"L. D. S. K.s are so rare, we haven't been able to build a standard profile," Hotch explains as the jet reaches cruising altitude.

Gideon chimes in immediately. "Here's what we do know: they're always male, and they frequently have law enforcement or military experience, and they always contact the police or the media."

Elle looks confused and you echo her sentiment as you lean your hip against her armrest. "To take credit or relive the experience?"

"Both," he says simply. "All serial killers attempt to relive the ecstasy they get from their killings. Some use souvenirs taken from the victims, and others return to the dump site to interact with the body. Both modes require contact with the victim, contact which, by definition, long distance serial killers don't have."

"Our unsub hasn't contacted anybody," you point out. "What do we do until then?"

"Sometimes it's not what the unsub does that reveals the profile. Sometimes it is what they do not do."

Reid glances up from the file in his lap, and you notice that he looks at Gideon first. "He doesn't kill his victims."

"Underkill's a unique signature," Hotch ponders, standing up and walking along the cabin. He only paces when he's deep in thought. "The question is, does he shoot them in the stomach intentionally just to wound them, or is he just aiming at the biggest part of the target?"

The team is silent as you take in this new analysis. You're not surprised when Gideon is the first to speak up. "Specifically, does the unsub lack the skill to make the head shot, or simply the will to take it?"

When the plane lands, you check out the last crime scene before spending the day talking to the local police and the victims' surgeons at the nearby hospital.

That night, when you check into your hotel room, the click of the door lock closing behind you is a welcome relief from the tension of the day. Many of the Des Plaines police officers were unhappy with the team's initial assessment, because it heavily implied that the unsub may have been a law enforcement official himself.

You wash your face and change into a tee shirt and a comfortable pair of sweatpants, before climbing into bed and opening the case file back up again. The rest of the team has also gone to their own rooms, but you can't help but wish you had another set of eyes looking at this with you.

As though reading your mind, a knock thuds on your door and you stand up quickly, in case it's an emergency. When you check the peephole, you see Hotch standing way too close to the door.

Unlocking it slowly so you don't startle him, you open the door to find him in still in a full suit.

"Is there a problem?" you ask immediately. "Do I need to get dressed?"

He shakes his head, glancing around the hallway so quickly that you almost miss it. "I was just looking over the profile and I wanted your opinion on some thoughts I had."

The corner of your mouth twitches and you open the door further to let him in. He doesn't miss a beat as he takes a seat on the armchair in front of your bed and flips open his notepad.

"I was thinking about the bullet we recovered on the scene," he says slowly, like he's thinking through every word he's saying.

You nod, sitting on top of the bed covers and crossing your legs under you. "Garcia called after you left the station. The bullet was a .223 fired from the M-4 variant of the M-16."

"That means he's military," Hotch says, reaching his hand out without taking his eyes off his notepad. You close the case file you had laid out and hand it to him. "M-4 is a shorter barrel than the M-16, so it's less accurate and a lot harder to fire, especially at these distances."

"This level of skill indicates specialized training. That means..."

"It means the underkill was on purpose," Hotch says, finishing your thought. "What is he trying to prove?"

You purse your lips as he sits up in the chair to give himself room to remove his jacket. His pinstriped button-down is slightly crinkled under his arms, but you can tell it was freshly ironed this morning.

"Maybe he's in a fast-paced occupation," you suggest, "which would fit with the profile that he has a big ego."

"Then we're back to law enforcement."

You lean forward, your eyes following his hands as they fidget with his cuffs and undo the buttons, one at a time. You've always been attune to every one of his movements, but maybe it's just because you've spent so much time around him.

"Hotch," you whisper-yell, snagging his attention from your case file, which he tosses back to you.

He hums and you take that as an invitation to continue speaking. "Be careful tomorrow, when you're giving the profile."

One of his eyebrows lifts and you can tell he's holding back a smile. "It's just in front of the Des Planes PD. You'll be there too."

"It's not that," you sigh, shaking your head. "Everything about this profile points to the shooter being either current or former law enforcement. I'd be surprised if they didn't take it personally."

His eyes flit up to yours, his brow furrowing. "I can handle myself."

"I'm sure you can, Hotch," you say with a breathy laugh. "Doesn't mean I don't still look out for you."

He pauses and it's like his whole body takes a beat. "I know."

***

You're talking to Dr. Landman with Derek, Elle, and Jason the next day when a gunshot rings out through the hospital. Last you checked, Hotch and Reid were in the E.R., but you haven't heard from them since you arrived.

"It's Phillip Dowd," a nurse informs you when you meet with local police outside the closed E.R. door.

After a quick call to Penelope, the profile becomes clear.

"He joined the army at 18," Gideon recites, pacing around the room in a vaguely reminiscent manner, "went to ranger school, did 6 years before being dishonorably discharged in '95 for conduct unbecoming. Obviously lied about it, joined the Arlington P. D."

"You were right," the police captain sighs. "He was a cop."

His hopeless tone is disheartening, and you find yourself upset for not the first time that your team was correct in their assessment.

After the initial commotion, the E.R. is silent except for a few muffled voices. You can't hear what's being said, but the lack of gunshots or loud noises is all that's keeping you from falling apart.

"It'll be okay," you hear whispered from next to you. You turn to see Derek, who presses his shoulder to yours briefly. "Hotch will know what to do."

You know there's nothing you can do from out here, especially with how precarious the situation inside is, but doing nothing has never been your strong suit.

"I know," you tell him, echoing your thoughts. "I just wish we could help."

Derek cocks his head at the S.W.A.T. team readying themselves to break the door down. "We can help. We need to give Hotch and the kid time to wear Dowd down."

His tone is light and you feel yourself laugh, ignoring the thickness that swells in your throat. "That shouldn't take long."

Derek bumps your arm again in a silent extension of comfort, and you mouth a silent thank you.

You can feel Gideon losing patience as he reasons with the captain, but he eventually buys them three minutes to do what they can. When the final five second countdown starts, you unconsciously hold your breath, only to be released when Hotch's voice calls through the door.

"Hold your fire!"

Your breath comes out like a gasp and you squeeze Derek's arm before rushing forward. Hotch stumbles past you with a murmur that sounds obscurely like "help Reid", so you push your way through the throng of civilians moving to escape until you see him.

"Spencer," you gasp, crouching down to help him into a standing position. You would never admit it to him, but ever since he joined the team, he's been something of a little brother to you. "What happened in here? Are you okay?"

"You were right," he says with a surprising steadiness to his voice. "I got the job done."

You don't ask what he means, knowing that Hotch will fill you in when the time is right. Instead, you decide not to fight the vaguely maternal urge rising within you and you pull him into a tight hug. It's more of a quick squeeze, because you don't want to push past his physical boundaries, but he doesn't complain, instead looking over at you with a small smile that's more than enough for now.

***

You find Hotch where the departed ambulance that patched Reid up was parked. All of the hustle and bustle of the paramedics and local police officers and bureau agents comes to a standstill as you walk over to where he's sitting on the edge of the curb.

"I heard what happened," you say as a way to announce your presence. "Can I sit?"

He nods without looking up, and you crouch down next to him, settling on the curb with your shoulder pressed to his. You can feel the tension in his muscles as he grips the sidewalk, his palms digging into the concrete like he could break through if he pressed hard enough. "Reid.."

"..is fine," you whisper, nudging him so he looks up to where Spencer and Jason are chattering excitedly. "He's more proud than anything."

He doesn't say anything, so you bump your knee against his. "I guess all of the physical training classes you made him take at the academy paid off."

He knows you know exactly what is running through his mind, so he doesn't bother trying to articulate it. Instead, he lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding, and looks over at you. "Do you remember that self-defense class we took before law school?"

You're not expecting this question, and you almost laugh. "You mean the singular self-defense class you dragged me to before dawn in the summer before we started at Georgetown?"

He levels you with a look that you would think is serious if you didn't know him so well. "You don't regret it, though."

"No," you smile, your eyes blurring with emotion. That's where you met Jeff. "I don't."

He was your instructor that day. He only taught that class twice a week, between lectures at Georgetown Law, and it doesn't escape your mind that you so easily could've missed him. One day earlier or later and you never would've met him, never would've been his girlfriend, or his wife, or his widow.

Hotch remembers meeting him that day too. He had to literally come to your apartment and drag you out of bed to make the seven AM class that he had signed you both up for, and you had been grumpy the whole drive over.

There wasn't much, other than coffee, that could get you alert before eight in the morning, but the moment you walked into that gym, it was like you were wide awake. He spent the rest of the class trying not to look as the man he would later come to know as Agent Adler kept coming over to give you extra pointers, and he pretended that the coil of ice slithering up his spine was there just because he was watching out for you.

When he found out the two of you had started dating, he continued to pretend the nausea rising in his stomach was from the day-old sandwich he had had for lunch, because it wasn't fair. Especially since he was with Haley, and he was happier than he had ever been, even if the new law school course load was making it harder to see her as often as he wanted to.

But eventually, your happiness with him overpowered every protective urge he felt, and he realized that even if there was a feeling in his gut that he didn't recognize when he saw you two together, Jeff was perfectly suited for you.

***

"He's so gorgeous!" JJ coos, her hands twitching at her sides like she's trying not to reach forward and take the baby out of Haley's hands.

She brought Jack, their newborn son, in to work today to show the team, and Hotch looks prouder than you've ever seen him. "Thank you."

"If you find baldness and wrinkles attractive."

"Reid!" you chastise, swatting at him. He dodges your hands without even looking.

"Look at his widdy biddy nose," Garcia squeals, before turning to Morgan with an inquisitive look. "Don't you want one of these?"

He just laughs as he rests his chin on her shoulder. "Mm, I'll stick to practicing."

"Congratulations," Elle chimes in before returning to Gideon's side to continue discussing the new case that came in. She's always on top of things, and it's something you respect greatly about her.

"Thanks," Hotch smiles, his gaze returning to Jack after looking away for only a moment. Jack is like a siren, the way each of his little sounds or movements holds Hotch's attention so steadily. He's the most focused of all of you, but you've still never seen him this enamored. "She's amazing. I'm a little terrified."

"You're glowing," you tell Haley as the rest of the team heads to the briefing room. "How is it that you had a baby just a few weeks ago?"

"You're sweet," she smiles, before tilting her head forward. "Do you want to hold him? You're practically his aunt."

You gasp quietly, so as not to wake little Jack. "That is a title I will carry proudly. And yes, I would love to hold him."

Haley hands him to you slowly, and you make sure to support his head carefully as you cup your arms around him. He looks so much like Haley that you almost make a joke about Hotch's genes not even putting up a fight, but that nose...that nose has Hotch written all over it.

When you glance back to where the team left from, you see him turn back at the same moment and offer you an encouraging smile.

"How are you holding up?" you ask Haley, barely able to focus on your surroundings with a newborn in your arms. Maybe there is something to the siren thing.

"Jack's been incredible. He barely cries, it's kind of a godsend...but I do wish Aaron could take time off with me."

You give her what you hope is your most comforting smile. "We've been super swamped with cases here, but in all my years working with him, I have never seen him so eager to leave every night."

She laughs, a pretty sound you remember from your youth. "I know. I feel so unfair when I complain about these things, but I appreciate you humoring me."

"Not at all," you assure her, glancing back down at Jack, who is mid-yawn. "I understand completely. If I had one of these little guys, I wouldn't be able to think about anything else."

You hear her breath catch and you open your mouth to reassure her that it's fine, but she is already reaching forward to squeeze your arm. "You and Jeff would have made amazing parents."

When you both joined the bureau, you were so busy with work that kids weren't on your mind at all. It wasn't until you got settled at the BAU, and Jeff found his place with organized crime, that you even started talking about it.

You want kids, don't you?

Only a few. Maybe four or five. Yeah, five's a good number.

"I should get back to the team," you say softly, blinking away the memories.

Haley sees your face and she smiles sadly as she takes Jack back from your arms. "I'll see you soon. Tell him I'm heading home, will you?"

You nod and watch the elevator doors close in front of her, before joining the team.

***

"I can't believe you went bar hopping without me," Derek shakes his head, feigning offense as he leans so far back in his chair you're afraid it may tip over.

"I think hopping is kind of a strong word," you say, glancing over at Elle, who is perched on the edge of your desk. "We only had one bar in mind, but it closed earlier than we thought, so we went somewhere else after."

"This was a much needed girl's night," Elle grins, patting Morgan on the shoulder as he continues to pout. "We'll invite you next time."

"How was your weekend, Dr. Reid?" you ask, turning around to face him.

Spencer doesn't look up from his crossword.

You say his name again, recalling the attention of Derek and Elle, who had started talking about some trip they've been planning for what feels like months.

When he still doesn't look up, you pick up one of the BAU-provided pens on your desk and chuck it at him, just hard enough to bridge the gap between your desks, but not so hard that it hurts on impact.

"Ow!" Spencer yelps anyway, glancing up with a look that's somewhere between confusion and indignation. He picks the pen up off the ground and turns it over to see the tiny insignia on the cap. "This is FBI property."

"How was your weekend, Spencer?" you ask again, ignoring him. "Didn't you say you had some fun stuff planned?"

"I did," he lights up, instantly forgetting about the pen incident. "My local movie theater was showing reruns of the first season of the original Star Trek, so I got to experience it on the big screen."

Derek laughs and walks back over to his desk next to yours. "We have very different definitions of fun weekend plans, kid."

You're about to tell Derek that no one wants to hear what his idea of fun is when the office door upstairs flies open and Hotch and Gideon walk out.

Reid hands you back your pen, and Derek sits up in his chair so fast it's almost comical.

"We have another case," Hotch announces before coming to a stop.

Gideon takes it away. "Our unsub is male, intelligent, organized and methodical. He has the confidence of a man who's been killing for a long time."

"Only victim removed from the scene is Freddy Condore indicating some tie to him."

Hotch turns to you. "You, Elle, and Reid stay on Condore's background with Garcia. The rest of us will head to the crime scene."

You nod before standing up. "Let's go, kids."

Penelope's lair is just as eccentric as you remember it.

"Take a seat," she instructs before logging into her computer and opening up her criminal history database. "Just don't get too comfortable."

Your lips quirk up as Elle flashes her eyes at you, and you nod your head at the empty chair on Garcia's opposite side. Reid is already sitting on a desk chair by the back, spinning in aimless circles as he rattles off a list of markers to search for.

After a minute, Penelope stops typing. "Credit card receipts show Freddy loved crab cakes, preferred light beer and used to spend his Thursday nights with a woman in Fells Point."

You pick up a stress toy shaped like a tomato from one of her shelves and bounce it in your palm, just for something to occupy your hands.

"What about his associates?" Elle asks, grabbing a pen with a pom-pom on the end and poking it at Spencer's knee.

"Most of them have criminal records."

Elle glances up. "That much I guessed."

Penelope frowns, and looks pointedly at the pen in her hand.

"She's holding the tomato!" Elle complains, throwing a finger at you.

You lift up your hands in surrender, dropping the stress toy. "Thanks a lot, Greenaway."

"Anyway," Reid interrupts, to everyone's surprise, "One of these guys is particularly interesting. Pull up James Baker's rap sheet."

Penelope turns back to her computer as Spencer reads over her shoulder. "He spent time in juvenile detention for attempted murder, was released at age 21, and then subsequently arrested for, and this is in order, armed robbery, petty theft, burglary, narcotics sales, and rapе."

"What's so interesting about that?"

"When it comes to psychological behavior, anything is possible but this criminal history? It just isn't probable."

Elle nods in agreement. "I mean, as a minor, he began with attempted murder and then devolved into pettier crimes?"

"It's the criminal history of a fractured schizophrenic with multiple personality disorder," you sigh. "It just does not make sense."

***

Hotch calls you into his office when he and Morgan return from Baker's address. You can tell something is off before you even step through the door, so you shut it behind you and take a seat in front of his desk.

"What's going on?" you ask, your eyes glancing over his face to see if his micro-expressions can give you a hint. "What's wrong?"

He looks up with a sigh, his hands clasped on his desk. "Baker's place was an artificial dwelling, and the weapon we recovered on the scene was standard law enforcement issue."

It takes you a few seconds to comprehend what he's trying to say - a few seconds longer than usual - and your breath stutters in your throat. "He was undercover?"

"That's what it looks like," Hotch agrees. "I wanted to inform you before telling the rest of the team."

You nod, pressing your eyes closed for a beat.

He missed his pick-up, Mrs. Adler.

We'll call you as soon as we know more.

The memories start to flood back in and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter before opening them. Hotch looks blurry for a moment until your eyes adjust to the light again.

"Does organized crime know where he is?" you ask, desperately needing to fill the silence.

He looks down at the case file. "We assume so, but it's not like they would tell us. They weren't too happy that we were taking on this case at all, and now we know why."

"Maybe they'll talk to me," you suggest, even though the idea of talking to Josh Cramer makes you taste bile. You haven't seen him since a month after the funeral. It's not for his lack of trying, you just couldn't stomach looking at any of them after what happened. One missed call turned to ten and eventually they stopped trying.

There's a piercing pain behind your eyes and you squeeze them shut for a momentary relief. "It was only supposed to be three months."

Hotch's brow furrows and you don't look up at him just yet. You can already picture his expression, the anguish you know he feels for you whenever you bring up Jeff.

"It was a three month operation," you continue, knowing you won't be able to discuss it later if you stop talking now. "That's all we signed up for. Three months away from me and then he was on leave for the rest of the year, so that we could focus on us again. Maybe even start a family."

Your voice cracks on the last word and you tilt your head down to hide your face. He hates it when you cry, but that's not fair. He knows how important it is to get your emotions out, so they don't pile up inside of you, but if he had his way, you would never have had a reason to cry in the first place.

"I hadn't seen him in over a month when he was..."

He can hear the tightness in your voice and he resists the overwhelming urge to reach his hand out and take yours. You're sitting a foot back from the desk, and it's not he could reach you from here anyway, but his fingers still ache.

"I don't want to blame them, Aaron," you sigh. Your words sound watery, and he pulls a handkerchief out of his inside jacket pocket and hands it to you. He's almost surprised when you accept the gesture, pressing the cloth square under your eyes to catch the tears leaking out. You were so self-reliant as a kid, never wanting or needing anyone else's help. "I don't want to blame them, but I do. I can't help it, I just do."

Someone else would have consoled you. They would have assured you that feeling this way was natural, and that no one could blame you for feeling what you do, but that isn't who you two are. "Jeff wouldn't."

His name is like a dagger to your heart. You practically wince as Hotch digs further. "That team was his family, just like we are yours. He wouldn't blame them, not for this. Not for something he chose."

Something he chose. This is why you don't let yourself remember that day. This is why you kept that day - the day you got that horrible call - locked up inside your brain, where not even you could reach it. Because if you let yourself think about it and remember, then you will remember that it wasn't really Cramer or his unit or the bureau that you blamed. It was him.

For choosing to miss his pick-up. For choosing to go undercover. For choosing to join organized crime.

You take a deep breath and re-adjust yourself in the uncomfortable chair Hotch refuses to replace, even though it's literally splitting at the seams. Something about your tax dollars hard at work. "What are you going to do about Baker?"

He lets you change the subject. "We have to contact Agent Cramer before-

"What the hell is wrong with you people?"

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"Sorry?" Hotch frowns, both of you standing up immediately.

Cramer doesn't take his eyes off Hotch as he seethes with anger. "I told you, this is my case! You ran my agent through IBIS?"

"Because I wanted to know who he worked for and now that I do, I'd like to talk to him."

"You don't have him?"

You can hear your heartbeat in your skull.

Hotch looks at you then, and finally Cramer notices your presence. "Y/N...it's been a while."

Your lips press into a thin line. "Almost two years." The anger you've been trying to avoid seeps into your voice against your will and you sigh, returning to the investigation. "How long has Baker been missing?"

"About 12 hours."

"You think he ran?" you ask, watching Cramer closely as his jaw ticks.

"No, Jimmy's too experienced to run without contact."

He realizes his misstep immediately and his shoulders fall. To his credit, he doesn't break eye contact, even as his expression softens. "That's not what I meant. All I'm saying is that I think someone's keeping Jimmy from calling in."

You can feel Aaron looking at you, but you avoid his line of sight. If you're going to have to interact with organized crime, you might as well make yourself useful. "We all want the same thing, Cramer: to get Baker back to his family."

You wait outside as he explains the situation in more detail to Hotch and Gideon, and you're surprised when he's the first to leave. "Can we talk?"

Hotch comes out behind him and raises his eyebrow for a fraction of a second, a check-in. Swallowing thickly, you nod your head and follow him down the hall to the top of the stairs.

"I'm sorry I haven't reached out recently," he says as soon as you're out of earshot of the others. "You know Jeff was one of our top guys."

Your eyes shut at his name, as though someone clapped their hands too close to your face. It's almost laughable how sure you were that you were past your grief. You passed the bureau's psych evaluation after your six month leave with flying colors (because your team practically wrote the answers yourselves), and as each new day passed and you weren't so debilitated by just the thought of him, you thought it meant you were fine. Because time heals all wounds. At least it's supposed to.

"I know," you whisper scratchily, before clearing your throat. "I know that. And it's okay. We've all been busy." You look down at the bustling bullpen where his agents are interacting with your team. "Clearly."

Then you remember you're job here in the first place. "We really are just trying to help. It wouldn't hurt to keep us involved."

Cramer sighs and you know he won't refuse. "We'll loop you in."

***

James Baker is found and Vincent Perotta gets taken into custody, but you can still hear the end of the interrogation ringing in your ears.

"You were just responding to what you learned, Vincent.

When you grow up in an environment like that, an extremely abusive and violent household... it's not surprising that some people grow up to become killers.

And some people grow up to catch them."

You can't pinpoint exactly what you're feeling, but if you had to guess, it would be sorrow. Sorrow for that little boy who got dealt the worst hand you can imagine, and still turned into the best version of who he could've been.

Hotch can't get the interrogation out of his mind either. He had grabbed his briefcase and headed out to the elevators as soon as Perotta was taken away, in the hopes of avoiding everybody. He's about to let out his breath when a hand reaches between the doors and sends them flying open again.

Normally your appearance is a welcome sight, but tonight, he's had enough talking. Perotta took everything he had to give, and then some, and he doesn't know if he has the strength to go through the proceedings again with you.

"I just want to get home," he says as you stand next to him without a word and face the doors. To my family.

You don't say anything as the little fluorescent floor number ticks down - has it always been this slow - and he feels his nerves tighten with agitation. You're never silent, especially not about something like this.

Just before the elevator reaches the second floor, you reach forward and pull the emergency stop button. He whispers your name, half irritated half relieved, and you step in front of him, focusing your eyes on his. It's a classic profiler technique, both to mentally establish trust and to physically block him from the keypad.

"You're a great father, Aaron."

His mind flashes back 25 years, but he squeezes the hand in his pocket into a fist to keep himself from succumbing to the memories. "I'm trying."

He knows what you're doing, and he would normally be open to a healthy exchange between two adults, but tonight he just can't. It's too fresh.

You seem to understand at least a fraction of what he's trying to convey. Your next words are gentle. "That already makes you a thousand times better than him."

That almost makes him smile. "You can say his name, you know."

You shrug, looking at him with a glint in your eye. "Honestly, I don't think I can. I'm afraid I'll turn into a pile of ash, with the fury your father instills in me."

That's what gets him. He coughs out a laugh that echoes around the elevator, and you return to his side, giving him a moment to breathe on his own.

This time, when his mind spirals back to his childhood, he's not as equipped to block it. The memories come in flashes, a blackening bruise on his abdomen, a split lip explained away through roughhousing in the backyard, the thin scars on his hands and elbows as he finally started to fight back. He would've taken it all forever if he had to, if it meant that he could keep the horrors away from the people he loved. "I really should go."

"Yeah." You push the emergency stop back into place and the elevator hits the ground floor in no time. "I'll see you tomorrow, Hotch."

He steps out, half expecting you to follow him. Instead, the doors close and he's by himself again, and he suddenly can't remember why he wanted to be alone in the first place.

***

When the Keystone Killer is finally caught after 18 years of inactivity, he finds himself expecting for there to be some sort of celebration, either in the form of a commendation, or a much-needed break. Instead, what he gets is a mountain of paperwork.

He usually doesn't mind the paperwork that comes after a long case. It's a helpful way for him to sort through his thoughts on what went down, and to learn from mistakes that were made along the way, whether in the profile or in the capture of the unsub.

Lately, paperwork has felt like an added torture to the long hours he already spends at work. It's not that he wasn't excited about going home before, but ever since Jack was born, he hasn't been able to get out of the office fast enough. But being the unit chief of the BAU has its responsibilities, and this is one of them.

He's drowning in consultation files and case reports when you knock on his door, two coffees in hand.

"Thought that was you," he says, finishing the sentence he was writing.

You frown, setting one steaming cup down on his desk. He hasn't even looked up yet. "How'd you know? Or do you just say that to everyone who walks in here?"

His lip twitches and he puts his pen down. "I could smell the coffee. It always smells the same when you make it."

"Oh?" You weren't aware you had a method. "And how's that?"

"Burnt."

You take the lid off your cup and chuck it at him with surprising accuracy. It would have thwacked him in the forehead if he hadn't swatted it aside with his stupid catlike reflexes.

"What are you working on?" you ask after taking a scalding sip of perfectly brewed coffee.

He looks up for a beat before diving back into the file he was skimming. "Paperwork for the Keystone Killer case."

"But we just finished that," you point out before reaching forward and taking the file out from under his nose.

He huffs. "I was...looking at that."

"This is a report on what happened a couple of hours ago," you say, ignoring his remark. "You can easily do this tomorrow, or later this week."

"It's fresh in my mind now. I don't want to forget any details."

You shrug in a motion that says 'fair enough'. "Or, you could actually go home before midnight for once."

You slide another file off the top of his pile and flip it open, reading over the notes Hotch has scribbled in the margins. He's so meticulous about his job that you almost forget he was promoted just a little over a year ago. He became unit chief at the same time that you joined the team, so you didn't get to see him in his early days, but looking at him now, you almost can't imagine it. It's like he's built for this, for taking responsibility and leading people with kindness and respect.

"Elle said something on the plane today," he says suddenly, jerking you from your thoughts.

You close the file and look up as he runs a hand over his head, pushing his thick hair back just for it to bounce forward again. "She said that she's scared she's going to look up and see that her life has passed her by while she was chasing monsters."

Something cold runs through your veins and you sit up straighter in your chair. "And what did you say?"

"I told her the truth."

You smile in an effort to keep your eyes from shining. "What, that we're all doomed?"

He looks at you candidly. "That this job will eat you up if you let it." Your smile falls and he continues. "You just can't let it."

"I'm sure Elle loved hearing that."

He shrugs. "She was surprisingly receptive."

That gets a laugh out of you, even if the good humor doesn't last long. "I don't know how you do it."

"Do what?"

"This job, while also being a husband, and a father." You sigh, and you can almost feel the weight of the air as it leaves your body. "When I go home, I don't have to be anything to anyone. Most of the time it feels awful, but sometimes, after an especially bad case, I'm almost relieved when I can go home and just check out."

You aren't talking about him anymore, and he can tell. He doesn't mind, if this is what it will take for you to work through your emotions.

"We were gonna start trying for a baby."

That surprises him. Not that you wanted to be a mother - he knows that - but that he didn't know you were already thinking about it, especially because of how you grew up. You don't talk about it often, but after losing your mother to a drunk driver when you were ten, you almost transformed into her, becoming the emotional support for your family when there was no one else to fill that role.

You press your lips into a thin line and take a deep breath, your coffee cold and forgotten on the desk in front of you. "We had been talking about it for years, but with the paths our careers were taking, there just wasn't enough time before then." Your eyes look far away, and you don't seem to notice that your lips have unconsciously curved up into a reminiscent smile. "Jeff wanted five kids. Five. God, can you imagine?"

He can, but he doesn't say anything, because he knows you aren't looking for a response. Just for someone to listen.

"I'm an only child," you say with a laugh. "I don't even know what it's like to have one sibling, let alone four." But Jeff had come from a huge family, and he had wanted you to experience that. He loved how full his home always felt growing up, never without someone to talk to. Now you won't ever get to experience that. "I guess I just wish sometimes that we had tried earlier."

"You'll have it someday," Hotch says simply, practically reading your mind. "If that's what you want, you'll have it."

"I waited so long," you whisper, closing your eyes for a long moment. "I was just so afraid that I wouldn't do it right, because I didn't have my mother anymore to help me."

"You would've been a great mother," he assures you, his voice confident. "One day, you will be."

Your breath comes out like a gasp and you clear your throat to keep the tears at bay. "How do you know?"

"I just know."

***

When you push through the doors to the bullpen the next morning, you are greeted by a familiar head of blonde hair.

"Sean?"

He turns around slowly, clearly recognizing your voice, and pulls his lips up into a smile that you return. "Hey, Y/N, how's it going?"

You weren't close to him as a kid, mostly because of the age gap between him and Hotch. You had tried to make more of an effort after graduating college, but Sean was fierce in his convictions, and there were a lot of things he didn't understand about his childhood that you certainly weren't going to explain to him now.

"Good, good," you say, leading him away from the throng of staring women. You shoot them a look that makes them disperse. "You here for your brother? He's upstairs."

He nods, glancing up at the closed office door. You start to lead him to the stairwell when he stops in his tracks and turns to you. "What mood's he in?"

"Why?" you ask, your brow furrowing. "You got bad news? Nothing I need to worry about, I hope."

Sean shakes his head, glancing up at the closed door again. "Nothing like that. I'll just go up."

You let him walk up on his own, knowing he doesn't want you getting involved in whatever he's thinking about. Before you have a moment to catch your breath, the three women return to your side.

"That's Hotch's brother?" Penelope asks, standing so close you can feel her breath on your ear.

"Maybe Hotch is adopted."

"What do you mean?" you ask, unconsciously glancing up the stairs. "They're honestly pretty similar." You're only half joking. They don't look anything alike, but that Hotchner brand of righteousness runs deep.

JJ frowns. "I don't see it."

"Yeah, he looks...like that," Penelope murmurs, before looking at you. "Did you know him when you were younger? Was he hot then too?"

You choke on your own spit. "He was nine years old when I left for college, so...no."

Her eyes widen and she lifts her hands in surrender.

"Ooh, here he comes."

You look up to see Sean storming down the stairs, Hotch hot on his heels.

"Sean, listen to me."

He turns so fast, you're afraid they're going to crash into each other. "Don't profile me, Aaron."

Sean stomps out of the bullpen while Hotch watches him leave, and you can't get the striking feeling of deja vu out of your head. Two boys, 15 years younger than they are now, standing in the same positions, with the same looks on their faces.

You imagine that you and Hotch probably act the same way around each other as when you first met, at eight years old.

The memory comes easily, even with more than two decades of time standing in the way. The little boy with dark hair who had sat next to you on the school bus, just because there were no other empty seats available that day.

You hadn't said anything for the first few stops, just watched him out of the corner of your eye as he nodded his head unconsciously to the music coming out of his large headphones. Eventually, curiosity got the better of you and you tapped on his shoulder. "What are you listening to?"

He had taken his headphones off quickly, as though caught in the act. "What?"

You repeated your question before leveling him with a pointed stare that meant 'there is a correct answer'. You were a feisty kid, and you weren't always the best at making first impressions, so his steady response impressed you. "Beatles. Revolver album."

"I love that one!" you had gushed, leaning in closer without a warning to press your ear to one of the speakers on his headphones. "Is this Yellow Submarine?"

He had nodded, the confusion in his eyes slowly transforming into delight. "You know their stuff?"

"Of course. My favorite's Eleanor Rigby."

He had frowned then. "That one's too sad."

You weren't surprised by his opinion. You had yet to find a boy your age who could appreciate serious music, but liking The Beatles was a start, at least.

"I'm Y/N," you had said, extending your hand like you were starting a business meeting.

He shook your hand furtively. "Aaron."

"Maybe I'll see you around."

The school bus had stopped at your street then, and you had gotten up without another word to this boy, who would one day become your best friend in the world.

Luckily, the next day, Aaron chose to sit next to you again, this time with a second pair of headphones to attach to his compact cassette deck. Two days turned to three, and before long, you had a new friend.

***

"I can't imagine what two weeks away from this place is gonna feel like," you sigh, packing some essentials into your bag and snapping it shut. "I might actually miss you guys."

"Not me," Morgan grins, before pressing a kiss to your cheek as he zips around you. "Two weeks of pure heaven with nothing but young, beautiful adults looking to make vacation memories."

"Your friend's resort better be as nice as you say it is," Elle says sternly as she wiggles her finger at Derek, who is busy inviting Reid to join their vacation.

"Thanks, but I'm going home," he says quickly, without looking at any of you. "Have a good one, guys."

"I'll head out too," you announce, grabbing your things and following him to the elevators. "Wait up, Spence."

He doesn't seem to hear you, but you slip through the doors just before they close. "You okay?"

"Huh?" he says, finally looking up. "Oh, yeah. I'm just not looking forward to the Nevada heat."

You can tell he's lying, but you don't want to press him right before the long break. "You can always call me if you need anything. Seriously."

"Yeah," he nods. "I know."

You wave goodbye to him in the parking lot, and you're back in the silence of your home by the end of the hour.

The rest of your day is spent lazing around the house, and you're asleep when you hear a knock at your door. After Jeff's death, you started keeping your gun in your nightstand, more out of a general sense of security than any specific acute fear, but its proximity during late night calls has given you the peace of mind you needed to finally sleep through the night.

Lifting it from the drawer, you hold it behind your back as you tiptoe to your front door and look through the peephole. When you don't see anyone, you carefully pull the door open, only to find a small packet sitting on your welcome mat with your name scrawled on the top.

After bringing it inside the house and locking the door again, you pry open the seal and extract a large piece of paper covered in a series of numbers and dots.

That's when the phone rings.

***

"How's it going?" you ask Reid and Morgan as you enter the conference room where all of the Fisher King's clues have been laid out. Neither of them have taken their eyes off the paper you brought in since you tacked it up on the board.

As expected, Reid doesn't look up. "The answer to what book we need has to be in here."

"Yeah," Derek sighs, glancing over at you, "but we sure as hell can't see it."

"Yet."

You look at the numbers again, hoping that your short walk to the coffee station and back would have been enough to unlock something new in your brain. Nothing. "The answer has to be based on specific details of each person's clue." A small sound turns your attention to the couch, where Elle is lying on her side. "Is Elle asleep?"

"I'm awake!" she starts, sitting up lethargically.

At the outburst, Hotch walks into the room and points at her bags. "I'm sending you home. You need to get some rest."

"No-"

"We won't do anything without you, I promise."

"Elle, seriously, we're not any closer than we were."

She nods, her lack of sleep seeming to dawn on her as she yawns again.

"Anderson," Hotch calls out, before you stop him. "What is it?"

"I can take her home," you suggest, looking over your shoulder as she lugs her bags down the hall with bleary eyes. He looks like he wants to protest, so you speak up before he has the chance. "She barely knows Anderson. I'll make sure she's settled, and then you can send him to watch her house, so I can come back here."

"I don't know if that's a good idea," he sighs, his eyes still trained on Elle's silhouette lingering by the elevator. "We may need you here."

You cock your head at Reid and Morgan, who have been sitting in the same positions for so long, you're surprised their necks haven't locked. "It's like they said. We haven't made any progress in over an hour. I'm not helping here."

He still looks unsure, but you know it's just worry. He'll always worry about you. "Okay, go. Call me in an hour to check-in."

You dip your head in a nod and jog through the bullpen to catch Elle as she's heading out.

"So you're my bodyguard, huh?"

You laugh, pressing the button for the ground floor. "Something like that."

"Good," Elle says, trying and failing to stifle a yawn, "you're much more fun than Anderson."

"Prettier, too."

The car ride to her house starts off silent, but eventually you break your internal promise to let her come to you. "How are you feeling after last night?"

She just shrugs. "It was more annoying than anything. I'm just glad I got to enjoy at least some of my vacation."

"I heard there was blood all over your room," you point out lightly, trying to broach the subject in a delicate manner. "That can't have been fun to wake up to."

"It was all on the outside. That's part of why they weren't able to hold me. That, and Hotch's lawyer chops."

You raise an eyebrow, glancing over at her as you pull over to the sidewalk. "His lawyer chops?" You know he used to be a prosecutor before joining the bureau, but you never got to see his skills in action.

"Yeah," Elle gushes, her face brightening considerably, "you should have seen the way he walked in there. Those beat cops had no idea what hit 'em. He was in full prosecutor mode, went all rainmaker on them until they released me."

You can imagine it. If any of you were in trouble, he wouldn't let anything get between him and your safety. "I wish I could've seen that."

When you put the car in park, you help Elle with her bags and walk her up to her door, where she insists that she'll be fine on her own.

"I promised I would wait with you until another agent could come and relieve me," you emphasize, instinctively scanning the vicinity around her home as she walks inside and drops her things on the floor.

"In about thirty seconds, I'll be passed out on this couch right here," she points at the window seat behind her, "so you'll just be watching me sleep for an hour."

You open your mouth to argue but she cuts you off. "Y/N, I'll be fine."

If there's one word to describe Elle, it's stubborn, so you let her shut the door behind her and you walk back to your car. Even if she won't let you sit with her inside, you still can't bring yourself to start the ignition, so you lean your seat back halfway and close your eyes, just for a few moments.

You haven't gotten much sleep either, and you're about to doze off when you hear a loud thud from outside the car. Jerking up, you undo the clasp of your holster and push open the car door. The world is silent, except for the rustling of leaves in the wind, but you start making your way up the drive, just to be sure. There's another thud, quieter this time, and you reach for your sidearm as you ascend her porch steps. Then comes a gunshot.

You start running.

841 notes · View notes

radiant-reid · 10 months

Text

Truth

Summary: Reader knows there’s something going on between JJ and Spencer but she trusts him that that’s just the way they are... until he goes to LA

i cannot find the request for this, ugh !!!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Angst)

Word Count: 3.7k

Masterlist | Navigation

Y/n had let it go after that night.

"You're not seriously upset about this, are you?" Spencer asks incredulously once the apartment door clicks shut.

It had been an incredibly awkward car ride together, twenty minutes home in complete silence. He hates when it gets cold and distant between them, even though he usually causes it by neglecting to discuss his feelings, but this time, he's fired up. Y/n can't read if he's dumbfounded or shaken.

Although often synonymous, there's a difference here. If Spencer's dumbfounded, he thinks her suggestion is ridiculous and totally, 100% wrong. It would be offensive wording but best for the preservation of their relationship. If he's shaken, then she's correct, and he's coming to terms with the significance of that discovery himself.

Y/n sighs as she spins around to face him, her plan of making a beeline to the bedroom falling through. "That was flirting. She was flirting with you, Spencer." She tells him firmly.

Spencer shakes his head, stunned by the allegation she's choosing to repeat. "She was- are you okay?"

"Don't make it about me." She instructs.

"It's about you when you're talking..." Crazy��is the word he stops himself short of saying- they both know it. He breathes deeply to calm himself. "She wasn't flirting with me." He maintains. "We're friends."

Y/n shakes her head. She knows he needs it explained to him, simplified to an extent, but upholding his position so staunchly doesn't make her want to do that. "You don't have to best track record for knowing when people are flirting with you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asks, his eyes narrowing.

There's a specific incident she's referring to, but there's been more than a few annoying instances when she's left standing at his side fuming. She's aware he doesn't do it on purpose. Spencer's not an asshole purposefully trying to make his girlfriend jealous by accepting flirtatious behavior from other women, but he's handsome. And unfortunately, not immediately rejecting advances makes it seem like he's interested.

"Spencer." She had told him when she finally pulled him off to a slightly quieter corner of the bar the team was in. "Her asking you what you're doing this weekend isn't her having an interest in your Korean film festival."

Spencer had been much better at getting it since then. He profiles a bit more cynically, purposefully looking for indicators that someone's interested in him.

Not tonight.

It was Michael's first birthday which, of course, meant it was a big celebration- BAU style. Spencer attended like the proud godfather he was, making sure every single one of JJ and Will's friends knew their son's achievements.

What should have been a lovely day would have turned into a discussion about them having their own kids when Y/n expressed how attractive Spencer looked while he held Michael's hands so the boy could practice walking.

But no.

Instead, they're standing on different ends of the kitchen island, both uncompromising in their views because of more than a few moments at the party between JJ and Spencer.

"She was flirting with you, Spencer." Y/n holds firm. "Touching your arm, giggling at your jokes, whispering stuff to you." She lists the frequently used tactics that she witnessed. She's become accustomed to them working on Spencer, but he has always admitted, upon later reflection, that the motive was more than friendly.

He can't believe it this time, and he quickly gets defensive. "Just because you don't think I'm funny doesn't mean everyone doesn't."

Y/n scoffs, irritated he would twist it so spitefully to play the victim. "Seriously?" She deadpans, waiting for him to react better.

"It was an inside joke." Spencer tries a different tactic that only has her eyebrows raised again. He sighs dramatically, gripping the edge of the bench.

"This is ridiculous." She states.

"I'm glad you see that too." He argues. "JJ was not flirting with me."

His insolence further fuels her anger. "Even Will looked uncomfortable." Y/n hits back.

"She's my friend." He repeats. "We are their friends. JJ and Will have been married for years. They've lived together and raised a son for even longer. I'm their sons' godfather. She's been my friend for more than a decade. There's nothing malicious going on."

It didn't feel like that. And that was likely because Y/n had only gotten to know them years following their friendship's establishment.

Maybe he's right. It's feasible that Y/n just hasn't found her place in the dynamic. "Are you sure?"

Spencer senses her walls coming down, and he steps closer to her in a few tense strides, cupping her cheeks in a way that makes her melt. His eyes soften until there's no anger remaining. "Yes, my love. I promise there is nothing romantic between JJ and I." He assures her.

It's so sincere. Spencer has always been a persuasive talker, and it's gotten him out of dangerous situations.

Maybe the deep gut feeling she has is off. There's no way to know what happens behind closed doors, but JJ and Will appear to be happily married. Her life seems completely fulfilling. It makes no sense for her to have a crush on Spencer.

So she's determined to shake it off- for Spencer, her own sanity, and their relationship. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have jumped to such a drastic accusation."

"No, no. Hey, I will always listen to your feelings." Spencer reminds her softly. "I'm sorry I didn't immediately hear you out. It was just unexpected. I would hate for you to stop talking to me about your emotions if you think I'll shut you down."

"Thank you, and I'm sorry," Y/n replies.

His words are massively relieving, and her negative thoughts aren't weighty. "I love you, Y/n."

She smiles softly. "I love you too."

"Can I kiss you now? I've been wanting to for hours." He begs, thumbs stroking over her cheekbones. He's elaborating a little but for good reason.

"Please." She agrees.

His fingers curl around her head while he leans down to kiss her, not breaking it until they're both out of air. Everything's okay.

And so Y/n had let it go after that night.

She was with him through everything. Dealing with his mom, Mexico, prison, and the long recovery after that. She was with him through thick and thin, even when Spencer had given up on himself. He'll never understand what he did to deserve her love, but it means everything to him. She's the calm presence in amongst his chaos.

No issue in their relationship has been too hard to tackle when they worked together through Spencer's personal problems so well. Nothing between them seemed insurmountable since Spencer's life was so tumultuous.

When he gets home from his case in LA, she's in the bedroom, checking his suit for Rossi's wedding the next day is in perfect condition. The ironing is crisp, not a single wrinkle on the fabric.

He usually calls out when he enters the apartment door, both so she'll reply, and he'll know what room to navigate to, and so she doesn't freak out about hearing footsteps on the floorboards.

This time, he doesn't.

It's like his brain got torn out and is still sitting on the floor of a little jewelry store in downtown LA. His thoughts remain entirely occupied by the previous day's events. Even though the jet home was long, he didn't sleep for a second. It's 7 am East Coast Time now, but it feels like just a second ago, his world got rocked.

"You're back!" Y/n grins, still unaware of the grave news he's bearing. She searches through her jewelry box for a piece to complement her dress. Her final moments of blissful ignorance. "Okay, so I was thinking you might need to nap before the wedding since it'll probably go late- I mean, you know Rossi."

"Y/n." Spencer whispers, trying to stop her from spreading joy and being the life in his life. He absolutely does not deserve that, as he lies by omission. He speaks weakly on purpose, wanting to listen to her excited ramble despite knowing he needs to be honest and say something that will crush her.

She doesn't hear him, and hasn't looked at him hard enough to see his devastation. "But your suit is good to go. I've got some other stuff to do, so have a nap, and I'll have lunch ready when you're up."

"Y/n!" He snaps much too loud.

Her eyes flick to his, and she knows something drastic has changed. Her stomach drops in dread as the air in the room turns stale.

"What?" She asks cautiously, voice wavering. Her heart thumps in her chest. "What is it, Spencer?"

"JJ said..." Spencer trails off, looking straight past his girlfriend. He's not brave enough to look at her directly.

No more explanation is needed for it to click.

Her whole world gets shattered instantly, everything she built with Spencer, every dream and hope she had with him, is destroyed in a second.

Her stomach stays dropped so low it feels like it's weighing her down and that she could be physically sick. She feels paralyzed until tears start streaming down her cheeks.

"Oh." She whispers, although it's as loud as a jet engine in the silent room. "Wow. Okay."

Spencer wanted more than that. He wants her to scream at him, telling him he should have stopped thinking he knew everything and listened when she was suspicious. Spencer would take any range of passionate emotions over the silence she's giving him as she processes it. He begs with his eyes for her to tell him what she's feeling.

It's to no avail.

He thinks he's getting somewhere when she stands up, that maybe she'll hug him or enquire about the cut on his hand.

"What happens now?" Y/n asks, ignoring her own tears and his. She always cups his cheeks and wipes them up gently because seeing him in pain pains her. That's how love works.

"Y/n..." She needs him to say more that time. Her soft-spoken name leaving his lips is bad news.

She forces herself to nod and swallow down her distraught tears. "It's okay. I know." It would hurt to hear him admit it, but she might think he's not a coward.

Now Spencer's paralyzed, watching his nightmare play out in front of him, and he's incapable of preventing it, of making her stay.

Her delicate, shaking fingers unclasp her necklace, and the 18k gold chain with an 'S' pendant burns a hole in her hand before she thrusts it into his.

It's warm against his cold hands, a sign it's not where it should be. It's supposed to be daintily sitting on Y/n's chest, near her heart, for the rest of forever.

"No." He finally says, gasping a breath out. "What are you-"

She cuts him off before he talks for too long and causes her to remain so in love with him that she can overlook a massive problem. "You love her." She voices what they've been dancing around. It's an ugly, hurtful truth. "You might be in love with me, but you love JJ more than you should."

Spencer shakes his head, frantically denying the claim they both know is factual. As awful as it is, he's thought about a future with JJ on more than one occasion and during a long-term relationship. It's not that he wants to be with her- which would be a complicated mess and break everyone involved hearts- but something between them remains unresolved. All because of two tickets to see the Redskins.

Y/n speaks before he can, tilting her head upward as she tries to brush back some of her tears. "Don't lie to me, Spence. Please don't."

He figures he owes her that much. Nothing he could say would fix the torpedo that ripped through their relationship. So he doesn't protest or fight for their relationship as she readies to leave him.

"I'll go now and get some stuff once you've gone out." She decides.

Her stuff which means she's planning on separating everything, and he'll never see her things again. Never mind the possessions- he might never see her again.

There's no point in making a case for her to come to Krystall and Dave's wedding when she only knows them through him, but Spencer isn't sure how he'll be able to sit through a ceremony and speeches and dinner and drinking and dancing- where everyone's feeling the love- when all he would have been thinking about is how it should be his turn next. It sounds like torture.

Spencer stands there, horrified and helpless, as she slips past him. "Goodbye, Spence."

And just like that, she's gone.

It's surreal.

Surely- surely- the love of his life hadn't just walked out the door and left him. That can't have happened.

He doesn't even feel overly tired, but he must be so sleep-deprived that he's imagining things. Having visions is a less scary thought than Y/n leaving.

The surreal feeling and eerie silence deepen, and he quickly collapses on the couch from overwhelming fatigue, hoping the past hours have been a terrible nightmare.

When he wakes and calls out for Y/n, quickly realizing she's not there and his worst fear has come true, Spencer sobs. He cries so much through getting ready for the wedding that his cheeks are blotchy, and his eyes blood shocked as he looks at himself in the mirror. He looks terrible, but he feels so much worse. It's emptiness. His eyes look dull, his hair scruffy, and his heart aches.

Her dress is still there- dark blue that compliments his suit, but it's matchy-and it hangs in the wardrobe on a coat hanger from the dry cleaner, taunting him. Spencer's hand comes to cup his mouth as panic and nausea rock his stomach. Y/n should be wearing the dress and beside him the whole afternoon while they celebrate love. Something's amiss, and he hopes no one calls him on it because he will, without a doubt, break down in sobs.

Germs feel permanently on him, and he's guilt-ridden. Sure, JJ's words in LA weren't his fault, but- fuck- he should have said something to stop the love of his life from walking out under the wrong impression that he loved someone else.

He makes a beeline for Penelope at the bar to avoid being around JJ and get some alcohol in his system so that maybe everything will hurt less.

She looks pretty, but Will gazes at her like she hung the moon, and Spencer quickly realizes he could never feel that way. Her glances across the room at him piss him off, whereas Y/n's would make him blush.

"No Y/n?" Penelope asks, looking disappointed when he walks over alone.

That's the reaction his amazing potentially-ex-girlfriend inspires in his friends. People love her for her warmth and humor, and Spencer's sure the team is grateful someone's making him smile.

"Unfortunately not." Spencer grimaces as he gets the lie out. "She's sick." Or, more likely, bawling her eyes out at her friends because her boyfriend is a jerk, Spencer figures. He would feel worse for lying if it were possible.

"Oh damn, I have heard there's a bad flu." Penelope easily believes the lie.

"What are you making?" Spencer asks, redirecting the conversation to the cocktails she's expertly whipping up.

The wedding is small, which Spencer's sure is appropriate for a fourth or third round 2. It feels wrong to be there without Y/n. If he's eventually going to have one of these with her, surely he should be looking at the flower arrangements while she notices hair options. Not judging, just getting ideas.

It would be nothing like JJ and Will's wedding. Y/n would hate a surprise wedding with no choice in decor or food, even though it's romantic in theory.

He could never marry someone like JJ. He could never marry JJ.

She's a real person. That seems to be a fact he keeps forgetting when he thinks about a future with her. She can't be the idealized version of her from his 24-year-old self's fantasy, and with her sitting no more than 20 feet from him, he's positive she's not who he's compatible with.

It's worse at the speeches. Emily stands with perfectly crafted words, and Spencer's almost in tears when the story verges from being Dave-and-Krystall specific.

"...that this was fate." His running thoughts halt at Emily's words. "...that their marriage was in the stars."

That's him and Y/n. They lived a block from each other in DC but had to travel three and a half thousand miles across the Atlantic Ocean to meet. That's fate. He recalls her laughter when he joked that the universe got sick of them not finding each other and forced them together. And the subsequent, love-filled conversation where they decided soulmates, and twin flames, must be real because they are the embodiment of the term.

Rossi is always a high-roller at Vegas casinos. There was no doubt he'd meet a blackjack dealer. It's not fate the way he and Y/n are fate.

He's always been sure she's the one, but this is the ultimate determining tool.

They have to be together. Spencer and JJ had bottled up their crushes without voicing them for more than a decade, and that's why it messed with his brain so much. Emily talking about confessions taking time to work out is not about them.

His fingers play with the tablecloth as he drafts a speech of his own, one that will set things right. He's too antsy to enjoy the rest of dinner or dessert. All he's thinking about is how soon he can leave- of course, after wishing the happy couple well.

Spencer knows where she is. The doorbell camera already notified him when she had arrived at their apartment, which might now be an invasion of privacy.

It's a bit of a drive to get home, and he's thankful he stopped at one cocktail so he wouldn't do something stupid, like yell at JJ in front of their friends. As mean as it sounds, he doesn't have emotion to waste on her. It's all poured into love for Y/n.

He doesn't have time to wait for the elevator, taking the stairs three at a time.

"Y/n!" He calls out as soon as he swings open the door. His heart pounds in his chest thanks to his poor athleticism, but mostly because this is the most important thing he'll ever do in his life.

"Yeah?" She replies, her voice coming from the bedroom as she steps out

She looks heartbroken seeing him, destroyed by the damage he caused over the last ten hours, and there's no way this can be how he leaves her, that this can be the last time he sees her.

"Don't say something that hurts." Spencer can tell Y/n's trying to be firm, but she's begging. There is no way he can ever hurt her.

"I won't." He swears. It's tense, and he feels award standing there. "Y/n, I-"

"I told you." She reminds him, referencing one conversation he's been thinking about. She was so good at dropping it after he offered her unknowingly untrue reassurance. Her plan to let him do the talking flies out the window, and she can't help releasing the brewing emotions. "I knew she loved you and hoped you didn't love her back. And now everything is fucking mess, and I just didn't think that you would do that."

"I don't love her that way." Spencer declares, and he doesn't feel guilty because he's not lying.

Y/n rolls her eyes. "You owe me the truth."

He tentatively steps closer, and she doesn't stop him. "I don't look at JJ and see my future. She's not the person I think about when I see an old couple walking down the street. I don't know the songs she listens to when she's sad or the correct amount of syrup she likes on her pancakes. I don't know the number of her childhood home or favorite piece of art in the Met. I'm not sure if she sings in the shower or if she ties her shoes with two loops. And I don't want to know any of that. You're the only person I ever want to know that personally. I don't love her the way romantic love works. But I didn't know that until I met you, and the very first day, I realized it was different. I know you said that, and I am so sorry I convinced you not to listen to your gut."

Y/n's crying by the end of his beautiful, naturally spoken words. He rushed to get it out, and she processes it for a minute. "Okay." She decides, accompanied by a choked sob.

Spencer frowns because he can't read her properly. "Okay?" He repeats softly.

She steps forward, which has to be a good sign. "I need you to kiss me now."

Spencer's crying too slightly as he closes the gap between them, cradling her face like he might shatter her in his palms. "Okay." He whispers, closing the distance between their lips without wasting another second. It's heavier than usual, holding a thousand unspoken words, but it feels like a resolution.

He holds her long after they've run out of air, finally feeling like he can breathe now that he's home.

"I am so in love with you." He tells her. "There is no one else I could ever be with."

She smiles softly back at him. "I'm in love with you too." She replies. "And this suit... you look very handsome."

He smiles widely. "You're the most gorgeous girl in the world." She doesn't bother reminding him that she's been crying and looks washed out. Spencer will forever insist that she is perfect. "Can I take you to dinner? Because I have missed you."

She nods. "I'd love that. And I have the perfect dress."

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𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 - 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 working with the BAU team has always been challenging— but your suddenly disrupted by a case that hits close to home and you don’t know how to react when your past starts clawing at you.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 drinking, usual criminal minds content, mentions of dead bodies, mentions of murder, mentions of sexual assault, mentions of anxiety

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 3.7k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 AHHH so the series has begun. this is based on this lovely request. i’m trying my hardest for things with the UnSub and the case to be as coherent as possible while the storyline progresses, so it’s very important to pay attention to names and your past ;)

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

"And that is your third drink of the night—" You reached over to Garcia's drink, ripping it from her lips as she tried puckering onto the straw before you could steal her of the drink she had rightfully purchased. Protests flowed out of her as you brought her drink to your own lips, taking a deep sip of the fruity alcoholic beverage, savoring the light flavors in your mouth. "At least share."

"Anyone tell you how boring you can be sometimes?" She slumped herself across the table complaining profusely at your antics.

"All the time actually," You shrugged. "And I'm not boring, I just don’t condone alcoholism."

"Says the one whos about to singlehandly down my drink," She rolled her eyes at the sound of your straw reaching the bottom of the glass with a slurp. You looked at the glass and shrugged your shoulders innocently.

"Oops,"

The whole BAU had finally decided to host another one of these team bonding activity's, and the vast majorty had agreed on hitting a bar that was near the downtown area, Morgan having been the main enthusiast at picking where the bonding would take place.

You thought it'd be fun honestly. It was unusual to see the group in an ambience that wasn't so full of anxiety and tension all the time. Of course, a joke or two would slip around the office, mainly through the jet rides but it was hard to lay back all the time when you were constantly chasing sadists and murderers around.

It had also been a while since you had gotten somewhat dressed up. A simple black squareneck bodysuit and some leather pants wasnt your biggest definition of getting dressed up, but you knew today was casual, so you didnt want to go completely out. You chose to instead settle for a outfit that'd allow you to blend in and some soft curls in your hair.

Everyone was in their own little comfortable bubble, which really allowed you to understand your co-workers and friends better. You watched how JJ and Emily chatted along a few other men on the further side of the bar, laughing at their antics and desperation when it came to obviously impress them. It was funny even from this side of the bar how badly the men were oggling them shamelessly.

Just as you were about to look for Derek, you felt someone clash between you and Garcia. "Well how are the two of the smokiest looking woman in this bar doin'?"

"I was just looking for you," You jabbed him with your elbow as he wrapped his arm around you. "Should've known you'd come crawling to look for us."

"By us, I hope you mean just me." Garcia butted in. Derek scoffed and allowed his arm to leave your shoulder and instead wrap both of his around the blonde that sat next to you on the bar stool.

"Pfft, you kidding?" He scoffed. "Don't' get me wrong, those pants look great on you sweetheart, but Garcia here's my one and only."

You let out a laugh at Morgans comment. He was a flirt, a natural one, it'd been just like this since you first arrived at the BAU all those years back. You however, were inmune to his charm, and he'd always been a brotherly figure to you. The two of you teased the other and often got into small discussions that were similar to that of a sibling dynamic. Nevertheless, you cared a lot for him.

"I'm going to take that as a compliment," You eyed Morgan, sipping through the straw of the recently emptied drink. He pinched your cheek as a familiar laugh left his mouth while you slapped his hand away.

Your eyes scanned the rest of the bar, allowing your shoulders to slouch ever so slightly. You swirled the small cubes of ice around in the glass, looking at them intently before Derek whistled low accompanied by a deep chuckle. "Looks like Boy genius is hitting jackpot over there."

Your eyes turned to where Derek was gesturing and you saw Spencer sitting at a small table with three other woman practically perched on his arms. You watched as his arms enthusiastically flew over the place. Garcia pitched in. "Well thats a first,"

You chuckled to yourself, not failing to notice how his mouth was moving at an unreadable pace, which probably meant he had already went into what you'd like to tease him as 'wikipedia mode'. His brows were furrowed and his lips were pursed as they moved inaudibly, the same way they always did when he rambled on about something.

"Look at my man go," Morgan cheered.

"He looks constipated.." Garcia squinted her eyes, noticing his nervous and tense posture as one woman grazed his forearm.

You and Spencer had gotten really close over the past few years. He was the first person you immediately hit it off with when you first arrived to the BAU a little over a year later than he had. It initially started when the two of you were unintentionally being paired in many cases together.

However, Hotch and at the time Gideon realized that putting both of your minds together was a power weapon in disguise— Both you and spencer were incredibly smart but very different. Spencer was very good with statistics and information, and you were good with reading people in great depth, which is why the two of you made such an outstanding team.

By being together all the time, you slowly started to get more comfortable around eachother and soon enough the two of you became inseperable. Wether it was getting coffee with eachother in the morning, or staying over later in the office to read over some unsolved cases, you and Spencer were attached at the hip as months went on. It had taken a while to crack his shell open, but slowly, you'd manadge for him to loosen up.

"Looks like that's my cue," You said standing up and dusting of your pants. Morgan and Garcia shared a look while you sighed heavily, watching how Spencer entirely short circuited when one of the girls reached up to tuck a loose strand of his hair behind his ear.

You knew Spencer had a thing with his personal space, but also having a heart of gold prevented him from having the guts to push these woman off. You could tell that he didn't desire their company or attention.

You rounded the bar and made your way to the table where Spencer desperately needed saving. Once you walked closer to them, the woman in the middle looked up with an unamused gaze and then Spencer's intimidated eyes met yours. You clicked your tongue, gesturing your chin to the side and insinuating them to take a hint.

"Sorry to interrupt ladies," You smiled tightly, crossing your arms. "I need to steal your boy candy for a bit."

"We're busy.." One of them said, smiling at you wickidly and she placed her hand on Spencer's shoulder. You groaned internally because your intentions weren't territorially driven and these woman felt some inescessary need to fight you for Spencers attention.

"I wasn't asking." You responded sharply, given them one final smile. Under the intensity of your gaze, the three woman finally cowered and got to their feet, walking away while tossing their hair back at you and spitting hateful glances towards you. You followed their trail with your eyes before looking back at Spencer and narrowing your eyes at him.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," He clasped his hands together, blabbering as you walked over and plopped into the seat next to him.

"Why is it that you always end up in these situations?" You looked over at him. "You have got to stop attracting the bitches.." You rested your elbow on the chair and tilted your chin towards him.

"They came and I didn't really know how to—" He started but cut himself off with a groan, slumping deeper in his chair and dragging his hands across his face. He peered at you through his fingers and you chuckled at him, looking down and shaking your head to yourself.

Spencer quickly noticed how your hair was lightly curled towards its ends and the makeup on your face was giving you a soft glowy hue. His eyes scanned your lightly tinted cheeks and eyelids, along with the long dark wisp of your eyelashes that deepened your gaze, not entirely used to seeing you like this. You finally looked up at him, and eyed him.

"What?" You laughed, shoving his arm lightly. He looked down and smiled to himself. When he looked back up at you, he opened his mouth, wanting to tell you all about the statistics of makeup and its history and evolution along the years to ease his nerves, but Derek's voice cut through the comfortable chattering the two of you were sitting in.

When you looked up at him, you saw JJ, Emily and Garcia standing alongside him, all having the same familiar expression on their face. Derek motioned towards his phone and you nodded your head understandingly. You knew that Rossi and Hotch had probably called everyone in due to a new case. You looked over at Spencer, sighing heavily. "Duty calls,"

Spencer stood up from his seat and grabbed your hand, helping you up from your own and letting his chest heave with disappointment. "Are we ever going to get a day off?"

You looked up at him and patted his chest. "Now that is a stupid question for someone as smart as you, Dr. Reid."

The whole team scattered into the conference room as Rossi held his phone to his ear and chatted stoically to someone, pacing back and forth the white board. You scanned Rossi's posture and the few pictures that were peeping out of a file and your brows furrowed.

"What do you think happened now?" You voiced, turning to Spencer, who scanned the room just as intently as you had beside you, hands deep in his pocket. Morgan, JJ and Parentiss had already fallen into their seats waiting for Rossi to hang up with whoever it is he was talking to. Spencer looked down at you and tightened his lips, shrugging slightly.

You hugged yourself as an unsettling feeling sat in the pools of your gut. There was something that happened to you often where you couldn't really voice a feeling into coherent words, but something about a situation seemed oddly off in your gut. The familiar feeling was currently bubbling inside of you and it evidently manifested onto your expression. You felt a hand on your shoulder accompanied by a light squeeze.

"You okay?" Spencer asked, furrowing his brows in concern. You quickly waved him off, smiling at him and taking in a deep breath.

"Yeah, just got a bad feeling,"

As Rossi hung up, you and Spencer made your way to your chairs. Spencer absentmindedly pulled yours out, allowing you to sit before him. You mumbled a quick 'thanks' before sitting down comfortably and turning your attention to Rossi with Spencer not far beside you.

"Sorry to interrupt team bonding but," Rossi shoved his phone into his pocket. "We've got trouble."

Rossi lifted the projector remote, turning on its contents and revealing a series of gruesome pictures. The photos showed what looked to be a couple, brutally slaughtered with blood splattered across the walls.

"Easton Green, 27 and Michael Green, 28, brutally slaughtered last night in their home here in Virginia," Rossi said scrolling through a few pictures of the couples body limply displayed across what looked like a bathroom. "Both victims received more than 20 stab wounds and both had their ring fingers severed. Due to autopsy reports, Easton had water in her lungs and Michael showed signs of sexual assault."

Your heart stopped in the back of your throat as Rossi read off the names of the victims, following with ID pictures of the two familiar faces you hadn't seen in a long period of time.

"A week ago, an almost identical murder took place." He punched the buttons on the small control, revealing a stomach churning picture. "Sarah Johnson, 28 and Adam Johnson, 28. The couple presented the same stab wounds and severed fingers, but no signs of sexual assault and no water in either of their lungs."

Your eyebrows were furrowed deeply as your mouth hung open, just slightly. You never thought you'd hear those names again, much less the way you had just right now.

"Both murders happened in their own houses and signs of forced entry are present." Rossi said.

"How do we know that these murders are connected?" JJ asked, scribbling mindlessly into her journal.

"We were able to make with the little evidence they've presented so far was that both couples had been recently married," Hotch pipped in. "The stab wounds are also identically the same, along with the way the bodies were left."

"So, wait, we have someone hunting around recently married couples?" Derek asked, brows furrowed tightly in curiosity.

"In a way that would explain why the ring fingers were severed..." Spencer quipped, scrolling through his files. You glanced over at him, watching the familiar furrow in his brow. He looked up. "Recently married couples wear their wedding bands on their ring fingers after the ceremony takes place. They're exchanged during the wedding ceremony and symbolize the couple's union and commitment to each other,"

"And with the severed fingers are probably the wedding bands," Derek blew out.

"If only the ring fingers are being cut off than maybe our UnSub probably has a personal vendetta with marriage in itself and is most definitely acting out of rage," Parentiss quipped in as well, crossing her arms over her chest. You looked from person to person as they all added in their analysis and group review, but you felt as if you couldn't keep up. Your brain had stopped working the second Easton and Michael had been named.

"We'd have to figure out how the UnSub is connected to the victims to be able to confirm that, and by that we'd have to connect the victims," Hotch uncapped a marker and turned to the board.

"Actually," You finally said. "All these victims went to North Virginia High School, the private school over by the upper east side of town."

The room fell silent as everyone's head turned to you. You froze momentarily, sinking into your seat while swallowing the bundle of embarrassment that seeped into you as the spotlight suddenly found your way. You signaled to the files "I, uhm— I used to go to school with these people."

"All four of them were in my class, I was actually friends with Easton. Sort of—" You shook your head. "—I haven't talked to her for years until well..."

You looked over at the board and cringed internally.

"So were they together since high school?" Derek asked you, turning in his seat towards you. You pursed your lips in thought.

”Sort of," You flipped a page over onto it's back and pointed your finger to one of the lines. "Easton and Michael starting dating a year or two after graduation, but Sarah and Adam had been dating since sophomore year of college."

Your frown deepened, suddenly memories of your past flooding your head quicker than you anticipated. And quicker than you were prepared for. You rubbed your temple and laid back in your chair.

"Whoever the UnSub is could be connected to the class or school," You stated, deciding to fall silent until further notice. Hotch nodded in your direction, eyeing you suspiciously before Rossi began laying out a few more details of the case to which you couldn't completely pay attention to. Your hands fell into a nervous pattern of picking at the skin that sat comfortably on the side of your nails.

Spencer reached out from the side, placing one of his hands over both of your to prevent you from continuing your anxious habit. When you looked over at him, his gaze remained on Rossi and Hotch, eyebrows slightly furrowed yet expression completely relaxed as if he had not a single thought flowing around in his head.

God knows you needed a bit of that. You glared at him but with a huff of surrender, you slouched further into your chair, allowing your fingers to dance along with Spencers underneath the table and away from anyone else's view.

After about thirty minutes of placing down a starters plan to the case and more unnecessary stuff that you weren’t all too interested in paying attention to, everyone in the team was dismissed. You snapped out of your trance, suddenly realizing that everyone was standing up and getting ready to leave.

"You in there?" Spencer called out from beside you as he shoved his paperwork into his familiar satchel. You hummed offering him a quick, forced smile.

"Yeah," You threw your bag over your shoulder. Spencer stopped you with a firm hand as you attempted leaving the room. He gave you a knowing look, clearly not even impressed by your poor attempt at running away from his worried gaze.

"I’m fine Spence," You said, tilting your head slightly to the side. "I’ll tell you about it in the car,"

When you and Spencer first started to get along, both of you had realized that your lived not far from the other. A fifteen, maybe twenty minute car ride from the others place at most. When Spencer found out you usually took the train to get home, he insisted on dropping you off every evening after work. At first, it was a bit awkward, due to the fact that none of you knew anything about the other, opting for plugging your AUX cord into your phone and playing music to distract yourself from the silence. But now, things were different and things were everything but uncomfortable

"Y/N," Hotchs voice cut through the air thickly. "A minute?”

Your head snapped over to Hotch. You tensed, looking back over Spencer to which he tightened his lips, giving you a look full of sympathy. You assured him with a nod in the direction of the door. "I’ll catch up with you,"

With a final nod, Spencer left the room, closing the door behind you. You tensed your fingers at your side and swiftly patted the sides of your pants. You suddenly felt intimidated by Hotchs presence. It made you incredibly panicky not knowing why he called you to stay behind. Hotch had always been someone you found hard reading.

"Whats up?" You asked walking up to him and gripping at the strand of your bag.

"Are you okay?" You furrowed your eyebrows, jerking back slightly. Now that was definitely not what you had expected.

"What..?" You asked, profusely confused as to where his question was coming form. He continued, organizing the files that were left on the meeting table.

"I asked if you were okay," He paused turning towards you. "If you’re going to be in conditions to work this case—“

You invoulintarily let out a laugh, to which you clamped shut in embarrassment at Hotchs unnamused glare. “Sorry..”

You shifted on your toes and sighed heavily. You understood that this sudden revelation may make people think this could effect your performance in the case. I mean, these were people you spent all four years of high school with and to any logical human being, in a sense, it would be emotionally impacting if ex-classmates were being executed one by one.

But Hotch knew very little about your past. No one did. So with a firm nod you looked over at Hotch. "I am perfectly capable of working on this case Hotch."

“I didn’t doubt your capability,” He stared at you intently. “I asked if you were okay to work on the case,”

You stopped, watching him slowly try to weave his way into the truth of what these people actually meant to you. But you quickly shot him a smile, blocking him out and preventing him from seeing what was going on in the inside of your head.

“Yes, I am.” His eyes scanned yours, and with a simple sigh he shook his head and finally dismissed you from the room.

The case did not effect you in the slightest, and you weren’t lying about that. It was just very shocking finding out that someone who used to be your best friend was slaughtered to death. But you knew that nothing— no even the people who used to go to school with you were going to put a halt to your job, much less when you love doing said job so much.

You said your final goodbye to Hotch and walked over to the door, exiting it carefully. When you turned your back to the closed door, you found Spencer sitting against one of the desks. You crossed your arms and glared at him.

"You should’ve gone home," You said. He pursed his lip, cocking his brows with amusement laced in his features. "I could’ve taken the train.”

You turned on your heels and allowed him to follow beside you. Spencer let out a laugh, throwing his head back. You beamed at his smile.

"That’s funny," He said, looking down at you as both of you made your way to the elevator. "Did you know that transit riders, especially women, are often victims of a wide range of offenses of a sexual nature that happen on, as well as at bus stops and train stations."

You looked up at him with an unamused look, knowing he was doing this just to prove a point. He opted to continue. "Verbal harassment is the most common form of harassment, with 41% experiencing "obscene/harassing language" and 26% being subjected to sexual comments. Among non-verbal types of harassment, 22% had been stalked and 18% had been victims of—“

"Okay fine!" You exhasperated. "I wouldn’t have taken the train anyways, I have my personal choufer with me."

You patted his arm with a smile on your face as you rolled your eyes at his triumphal grin. Once the elevator door opened you pursed your lips. "Can I at least pay those 25 dollars of gas?"

He looked forward as the elevator door closed, scoffing. "Not a chance.”

320 notes · View notes

astrophileous · 7 months

Text

Love Bugs (Pt. 07)

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female Reader

Synopsis: You and Derek Morgan have an arrangement. At work, your relationship is strictly business. Under the sheets, it's all about pleasure. Nothing more, nothing less. Until, of course, your feelings start to get involved. Your situation is complicated enough without the unexpexted predicament that suddenly befalls upon you. But with a maniac serial killer on the loose, will you ever get the chance to make everything right?

Warning(s): cursing, mentions and/or depictions of death, near death experience, usage of guns, mentions of injuries resulted from physical violence, mentions of strangulation, pregnancy, somewhat religious undertones (very minor), I think that's all?? Pls inform me if I missed any

Word Count: 3200-ish

Tag(s): @marvelousgoldroses @jay-2s-world @whore-of-the-pumpkin-patch @maxinehufflepuffprincess @cat-or-kitten @littleshadow17 @itzz-me-duh @geeksareunique @paisleebubbles @whateverrrrrrrrs @crazyunsexycool @bruher @spiderlillie00 @f1lov3r @louderfortheback @wifeyofeveryone

Author's Note: HI!! I can't believe we're finally at the end of Love Bugs OMG!!! Thank you so much for everyone who has stuck by this series through its ups and downs. I was initially planning to write an additional chapter to close off this story, but I realized that this is the right part to end it. With that said, I am open to taking requests of blurbs/headcannons for Love Bugs if any of you would like to see more from these two. Just send me an ask and I'll make sure to check it out! This story is my very first derek and criminal minds fic altogether, so it's pretty emotional to be saying goodbye to it. Again, thank you so much for reading Love Bugs and I hope you'll be around for any derek/other criminal minds fics I might have in the future ❤️ Don't forget to LIKE+REBLOG+COMMENT 🌹

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

Derek knew that letting Hotch take the wheel was a mistake.

He was already marching towards the driver's side back at the HQ's parking lot when the older man had stopped Derek before he could get in.

"Your head is not in the right place right now. The last thing we need is to get into a car accident when (Y/N) desperately needs our help," Hotch had reasoned.

Derek obviously couldn't argue with that.

But Lord, did he wish that he had actually argued with that. He kept internally cursing his boss for not going fast enough. Never mind if the speedometer was teetering towards 60 miles per hour, it still just wasn't fast enough.

A phone call from Spencer and JJ came in around 5 minutes before Derek and Hotch were supposed to reach their destination.

"His new office is empty," Spencer had said. "She's not here."

That new piece of information meant that you were being held either at the UnSub's home--where Emily and Rossi were heading to right at that moment--or the old office building that, according to Garcia, had once belonged to the UnSub's father.

Derek wished that the office was exactly where the UnSub had been holding you all this time. Not because Derek wished to be the one to find you first--of course not, he couldn't care less about that--but just because Derek would prefer it more if he was the one to face the UnSub and point the barrel of his gun at your abductor's head, watching as the fired bullet penetrated his skull before the scumbag dropped dead onto the ground.

As soon as the SVU pulled up to the driveway of the office building, followed by two police cars, Derek wasted no time climbing off his seat and out of the car. His steps were tenacious as he stomped towards the entrance, purposefully ignoring Hotch's frantic calls of his name.

"Hey, wait a minute, Morgan. Slow down."

Derek pushed past a frowning Hotch, fully intent on closing the twenty feet distance between him and the front doors. But Hotch's hand on his shoulder faltered his steps once more, and Derek couldn't rein his anger when he finally decided to face Hotch.

"What the fuck do you want, man?!"

"You can't just barge in there. We need a plan."

"A plan?" Derek scoffed. "She could be dead by the time we draw up your stupid plan."

"Morgan," Hotch's voice came with a warning. "You're not thinking straight--"

"Hell yeah I'm not! (Y/N) could be inside right now, fighting for her life, and you wanna talk plans?" Derek took a step forward, leveling his burning gaze with Hotch's eyes. "You're the one who caused us this mess, Hotch. Do you really want her blood on your hands, too?"

In the many years of him knowing Derek Morgan, Hotch never witnessed such fury in the man's eyes. These were the eyes of a man who had nothing to lose. A man who was ready to sacrifice everything because his whole world was at stake.

"You're staying behind me," Hotch said at last. "Don't do anything rash, or I'll be forced to have you sit this one out."

As much as Derek wasn't satisfied by those conditions, he knew that it was the best option he could have, so he relented.

Under Hotch's command, the group of six split into three pairs as soon as they stepped inside the treshold. They checked every room in the two story building, but they all came up empty. Once they were back outside, Hotch received a phone call from Emily and Rossi.

"There's no sign of them in the house as well," Hotch said, repeating the exact words that Emily had informed him over the phone.

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Maybe he's taken her some place else. I'll call Garcia and see if she can pull up any other potential location."

As Hotch waited for the tech-analyst to answer, Derek began darting his eyes over the entire building once more. None of it made any sense. He knew that it was impossible, but something told him that you were close. You were nearby. Just a sliver away from his reach.

It felt like he had been staring at the building for an eternity when it finally dawned on him.

"Hotch," Derek called out, feet already moving again towards the front door, "this building has a basement."

Derek didn't wait for a response as he barged inside.

Behind him, the other five people scrambled to catch up with his pace. Derek went to recheck all of the rooms in that building, banging on suspicious looking panels on the wall and testing the integrity of the floor beneath him.

A clanking sound in the distance eventually tore his attention away. The mysterious noise was soon followed by a shout from one of the uniformed officers.

"We found this," the officer reported as soon as Hotch and Derek stepped into the furthest room in the building.

On the ground, a rusty metal bookcase lied haphazardly. Right behind it, a wooden panel on the wall was gaping. Derek locked eyes with Hotch, a silent confirmation, before Hotch nudged the panel wider with his shoulder.

The hidden room led to a flight of stairs leading them down towards a dingy basement. Hotch motioned for everyone to follow him as he stealthily moved towards a metal door on the far side of one of the walls. As Hotch grabbed its handle, Derek tightened the hold he had on his gun.

Everything else had transpired in a blur.

Derek only recalled seeing that horrific scene playing out in front of him for less than a split second--the image of that bastard putting his filthy hands on you--before his instinct kicked in. Two bullets from his gun; one to the shoulder and one more to the neck.

Derek barely even registered the gurgling sounds the UnSub was making as he rushed towards you.

Derek's heart was glass as he knelt by the chair, each piece shattering against his insides with every mark, cut, and bruise that he could see littering your skin. He still remembered the feeling of your naked skin under his fingertips. Soft and tender, like frosting on a cake. But now?

Now, it looked dull and lifeless.

With heart in his throat, Derek moved to touch your limp form. "Bug?"

No answer.

"Hey, (Y/N)? It's me. I'm here, Bug, please open your eyes," he pleaded. "Wake up, sweetheart."

The pressure in Derek's chest inflated. His palm felt ice on your face. His fingers around your wrist scrambled for any sign of life he could find, but there was none.

"Hotch! Hotch, she's not breathing!" Derek called out, a sentence made out of nightmares. "Help me get this off!"

It felt like an eternity until Hotch was able to hand Derek the metal cutter, which they then used to free you of your restrains. Your body slumped instantly into Derek's arms the moment they cut off the last metal cuff, and Derek tried not to dwell over the fact that you felt stiff and cold against him.

"You're okay, sweetheart," he murmured as he laid you down on the ground. "Come on, you're okay."

Those words kept repeating themselves over and over again as he started doing compressions on your chest. Prayers towards a God he hadn't spoken to for a while also slipped past his lips. Prayers for a miracle. Prayers for the heavens to allow Derek to take your place instead. Prayers for the universe to please, let him have more time with you, please, please, please.

"Morgan." Hotch's hand fell on his shoulder, but Derek never faltered. He kept on pumping your chest, willing for your heart--his heart--to start beating once more. "Morgan, the paramedics are here."

Reluctantly, Derek let himself be dragged away from you, giving room for the first responders to do their job. As he looked down upon his hands, Derek noticed that they had been shaking. Violently.

"Please be careful," Hotch spoke up. "She's pregnant."

"Clear," one of the paramedics announced before another one pressed the shock button on the defibrillator.

Derek stared helplessly at the flat line shown on the heart monitor.

"Again. Clear."

Every second that passed by was an inch of blade through his chest. Every second you teetered closer towards death was also his life undoing right in front of his eyes.

Derek thought it was over. His world was crumbling to ash all around him, stripping down the colors until all he could see was gray. He was standing on the brink of its wreckage when suddenly, he heard one of the paramedics yell, "We got a pulse!"

And just like that, Derek's knees gave out underneath him.

"Morgan!" Hotch caught Derek's shoulders, keeping him up before the younger man could collapse completely on the floor. "Hey, she's okay. She's gonna be okay."

Derek could only nod his head in response. Words tasted like lead on his tongue as he struggled to catch his breath. Tears streamed down his face like a burst dam after a rainstorm.

For a second there, Derek thought his world was ending.

But as he stared feebly at the paramedics wheeling your body away, Derek couldn't stop thanking the universe for giving him another chance. One more chance to be with you. One more chance to make things right.

This time, Derek was not going to let it go to waste.

Darkness was peaceful.

In the darkness, you were nothing.

But you had always wanted to be something.

With a heavy heart, you made the decision to say goodbye, to come back to the life that had been your constant for the past decades. To a world that, beneath all of the bad things you had witnessed in it, still had some good worth mentioning, too.

Like Derek Morgan, for example.

Despite everything that happened, you could never deny that Derek was a rare example of good in the world. And he was exactly the person who occupied your mind when you gradually regained your consciousness, letting yourself amble further from the promises you had rejected from the darkness.

When you finally opened your eyes, it felt like your body had been dragged through much more than mere mud.

Fluorescent lights blinded you almost instantly. You turned your head in order to escape the onslaught, but the pain radiating through your entire body made you whimper instead.

"(Y/N)." A gentle hand landed on your shoulder. "Hey, you're awake."

You blinked away the fog that had gathered in your vision, trying to make out the silhouette in front of you until it morphed into a recognizable face.

"JJ?"

"Yeah, it's me." She smiled. "How're you feeling?"

"Not particularly great."

JJ breathed out a laugh. "I figured."

You groaned quietly as you shifted yourself to a new position, JJ jumping in to help even before you asked her to.

"What happened, J?" you questioned once you had settled comfortably.

"I think that's a talk for later, (Y/N). For now, you need to rest."

"Please--" you grabbed onto JJ's wrist, "--I want to know. The last thing I remember was... was..."

Being strangled.

That was the last thing you remembered before everything went dark.

JJ's eyes flashed with understanding. "You were barely alive when help arrived. It was a miracle that Hotch and Derek got there when they did."

"Derek?"

The smile JJ gave you was full of hidden meanings. She gestured with her head towards the other end of the room, towards the direction you hadn't even once inspected since you woke up. A worn down couch stood against the wall, and on top of it, cramping himself into a position that was surely not comfortable, was the person you had been hoping to see since you opened your eyes in that dingy basement.

Derek.

He was sleeping with his arm draped over his eyes. He must have been tired, you thought. Or otherwise, he wouldn't have been sleeping so soundly in such an awkward position.

"How long was I out?"

"About two days." You couldn't hide your shock when you looked at JJ. "He never left, (Y/N). He refused to leave your side."

JJ's revelation compelled your eyes to stray towards Derek once more. You missed him. You were still missing him even when he was there, in the same room as you were, safe and sound.

As if she could dissect the content of your head, JJ spoke up again, "Do you want me to wake him up?"

"No, please. He needs the rest."

"Pretty sure he needs to see you more than he needs his sleep, (Y/N)."

Ignoring your protests, JJ circled the bed and approached the run-down couch in the corner. You watched with a drum in your chest as JJ gently shook Derek awake, smiling to yourself when you see him open his eyes blearily.

"Someone wants to see you," JJ informed, nodding her head in your direction.

It was as though a switch had been flipped somewhere inside of him. The moment Derek saw your eyes looking at him, any trace of exhaustion he was previously feeling automatically dissolved in a heartbeat.

"I'll better step outside," JJ announced, already retreating towards the exit. "The others would want to know you're awake."

With JJ's departure, the atmosphere in the room instantly shifted.

Before you could process what was happening, Derek had seemingly transported to your side. Now up close, you finally saw the lines of fatigue etching on his face. His muscular shoulders drooped slightly as if the weight of the universe was forcing him to forfeit his energy little by little.

Sitting by the bed, Derek looked hesitant as his hand hovered over your own. You eventually took matters into your own hand, tangling your fingers around his until there was no room for escape.

"I've missed you," you confessed.

A watery laugh rumbled past his chest. In his eyes, a cloud of tears had begun to build. He stared at you with such fervent. The person who owned his heart, the one he thought would take it away from him to the grave.

"You scared me," Derek confessed as well. "I thought you were gone for good."

"It takes a lot more than that to get rid of me," you tried to joke, which, judging by the expression on Derek's face, was not something he appreciated very much. "Wait. Derek, the baby--"

"Is fine," he cut you off, preventing you from spiraling any further. "The doctor said they need to monitor both of your conditions for a few days. But for now, the baby is fine. So are you."

You released an appeased breath before dropping your head back on the pillow.

"How long have you known?" Derek suddenly asked.

The question was inevitable. You knew sooner or later it would come up, but that didn't mean you were not still taken back when it did.

"A couple of weeks," you replied. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"I understand why you didn't." Derek smiled ruefully. "After everything I said to you--"

"We both said or did something we regret."

"Yeah. Me more than anyone."

"Derek--"

"No, Bug. You gotta hear me out." Derek took a deep breath, the frown between his eyebrows deepening as he stared straight into your soul. "I want you to know. I want to make sure that you understand how sorry I am for everything. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you needed me. I'm sorry I said all of those horrible things back in Iowa. But most importantly, I'm sorry I was too much of a coward to tell you the truth.

"The truth?"

"I love you, Bug."

Your heart skipped a beat.

"I love you," he emphasized. "I don't know when it started, if it was before or after our arrangement began. I just know that I do. These past few days have been hell for me, Bug. I've watched all kinds of nightmares imaginable in the years I spent on this job, but none of them compare to what I felt when you were gone."

A stray tear escaped from Derek's eye, constricting your chest even further than ever.

It was the first time you had ever seen him cry.

"I understand if you want nothing to do with me after this. But whatever you want, I promise that I'll be there. For both of you." Derek's palm landed on your belly, right on top of the small bump that had just started to grow. "In any capacity you allow me."

Your whole body erupted in goosebumps following Derek's admission. His sincerity rendered you speechless. It seemed like hours later when you could finally find your voice again.

"Did you mean all of that?"

"Every word."

"Good. Because I love you, too."

Derek's expression faltered ever so slightly.

"I want every capacity you have, Derek. I want every part of you, every part you're willing to give because I need you. We both do."

Derek's smile, despite the tear streaks on his face, was the definition of relief and joy. He kissed your knuckles a million little times before leaning forward to claim your lips. It was a breath of fresh air to have his lips on yours after such a long time apart. Even then, Derek was still familiar. He tasted of home.

Hours later, the rest of the team stopped by to check on your condition and to congratulate the two of you over the little life that was soon to become the newest member of the BAU family. Once the crowd had dispersed, your hospital room fell quiet once again.

In the midst of that comfortable silence, you persistently tried to convince Derek to go to sleep in his own bed for the night.

"I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart."

"Derek--"

"Do you really think after what happened, I'm just gonna let you out of my sight? Hell no. I'm sleeping here. End of discussion."

"It's just one night, Derek. I'll be fine," you assured him. "You can't possibly be comfortable on that tiny couch. You should go home and get some decent sleep."

"The only way I can get a decent sleep is by making sure you're safe, Bug. So, please--" he tugged the blanket higher around your body, "--stop your yapping and get some rest."

You eventually yielded into Derek's incessant commands and allowed yourself to relax, not before giving him a very defiant pout that earned you one sweet kiss from the man.

It didn't take long for sleep to take over your body. But even once you had fallen into a very deserved slumber, Derek couldn't find it in himself to close his eyes. After the tornado that these past few days had been, a love confession from you was the best reprieve that someone like him could ever dream of. It still seemed so surreal that a part of him feared going to sleep just for the tiniest bit of chance that everything had, in fact, been a dream.

So, for one night, Derek figured that sleep could definitely wait.

For one night, Derek would spend his time thanking whatever higher power had listened to his prayers and sent you safely back into his arms.

The love of his life. The center of his universe.

His Pretty Bug.

Along with the Little Bug that was still growing life inside of your belly.

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slowburningechoes · 1 year

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top 5 reid looks imo

no particular order except chronological... its so hard to just pick a handful, but overall these five seasons are my faves for overall spence hair & style, too.

02x06 - The Boogeyman

04x14 - Cold Comfort

09x05 - Route 66

12x15 - Alpha Male

13x02 - To a Better Place

BONUS:

08x06 - The Apprenticeship

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 18 days

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It’s All Coming Down ~Broken!Aaron Hotchner xFem Reader

Summary— [S5Ep09 SPOILERS] With the events of S5Ep09 going down, Hotch can’t cope. He breaks down and falls into Reader’s arms. Luckily, Reader is there and ready to comfort Aaron through one of the hardest times of his life.

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: fluff, little angst, blood, implied deaths (multiple), trauma, traumatic situations, canon character death, comforting, breaking down, physical comforting, crying, etc.

Enjoy (;

Aaron couldn’t keep up with what was happening. One second he was on the phone with Haley, and the next, he was kneeling in front of her body, hands bloody. Or was it Foyet who was on the ground, body bloodied? He couldn’t remember. The walls of reality were coming crashing down on him. It was all happening so fast, yet at the same time, it seemed as if time had slowed. The man had managed to make it out of the family home, stumbling across the lawn. He could barely make out you rushing out of an SUV and coming quickly him.

You rushed up to Hotch, asking him if he’s alright, asking what you can do, when the man collapsed on the front lawn in front of you. You swiftly catch him to the best of your ability (and considering how much man Hotch really was, you were doing pretty good) guiding and slowly his fall to the ground. Aaron pulled you close, practically in your lap, as your body enveloped his. And then you heard sobs. Aaron had started sobbing into your shoulder, uncontrolled, unbridled sobs.

“Shhhhhh, it’s okay it’s okay. You’re safe, Hotch.” You comforted the man.

The team started to slowly filter out of the house, collecting evidence and making sure the bodies were properly taken care of. Jj was leading Jack away from all the blood and gore, going out the side door and putting him swiftly into a black SUV. Her gaze swiveled and met yours, as you comforted the broken man on the ground a hundred feet or so away from her. She gave you a sympathetic nod which you curtly returned, before tucking away into the vehicle to care for Jack.

Your attention then turned back to Aaron, who was now practically koala, clinging to you, his big hands and arms wrapped tightly around your frame. He was shaking. And his tears were soaking your shoulder and down your back. You allowed him to tremble and cry in your arms, allowing the world to pass by as you stayed in the grass and comforted the man.

Things started to become busier, more fbi agents coming out of the house, along with a new wave arriving in SUVs. The commotion seemed to finally get to Hotch, as he poked his head up slightly. You saw his grief stricken, broken eyes for a moment, before he turned his head away. He suddenly sniffled and retracted enough to speak to you but not meeting your gaze ashamed.

“I’m— I’m sorry that was extremely innapropriate of me…” he stammered, trying to distance himself from you.

The man stumbled to stand up and slam it shoved himself away from you. He shook his head, attempting to get his bearrings, attempting to shove all of his emotions deep down, compartmentalize like he usually always did. But you wouldn’t hear it, standing up swiftly and pulling him back towards you, holding him close by his shoulders, so that he had to meet your gaze.

“Nonsense. Hotch, you just experienced an enormous loss. You are allowed to feel. You’re allowed to grieve. Come here” you whispered caringly.

Aaron tried to blink back the tears that threatened to spill once more, instead pulling you into a tight hug on the lawn. His arms wrapped around your back as you embraced him in turn. You two stayed there in silence for a moment.

“Thank you” he finally whispered.

“Anytime, Aaron. Anytime.” You whispered back.

From the side of the road, Morgan shot Prentiss a knowing look, raising his brow and indicating to the two of you in the grass, which Emily returned with an equally intriguing expression.

~~~

Aaron Hotchner Masterlist ~Coming Soon (;

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thedelusionalbitchgianna · 14 days

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Alex: So what do you like to do for fun around here?

Derek: Sometimes we like to throw shit at Reid

Alex: Who's Reid?

Derek picking something up and throwing it at Spencer: Reid!

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lovemggubler · 16 hours

Text

POKER REID.

Criminal Minds Season 7 Episode 13 - Snake Eyes

PLEASE LOOK AT ME LIKE THIS TOO, SIR.

HOT.

#criminal minds #criminal minds series #spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #mgg #criminal minds season 7 #poker reid #HE'S SO HOT

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greywritesthings · 14 days

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Silence (1)

Spencer Reid x SelectiveMute!Morgan!Reader

warnings; panic attack, parental death, bullying, murder, arson, general cm violence described

A/N; This is the start of a hopefully 5 ish part series possibly more, any reblogs comments and likes are very much appreciated <33

( Kinda proofread but I'm exhausted when posting so corrections are welcome)

SR Masterlist

Masterlist

You - I’m coming up the elevator, your floor 6 right?

Der Bear - Yeah, I’ll be right outside them don’t worry.

You - KK Thnx :)

You close your phone and put it back in your pocket, bouncing on your heels as you wait for the unreasonably slow elevator to take you up six floors. You're both excited and nervous, it's your first day at the BAU, something you never thought you would be able to do with your anxiety disorder. You were adopted at the age of seven but you had known the Morgans as a whole before that, your mother was friends with Derek's mother so you spent a lot of time there as a child.

You were five when your parents died, you were being babysat by Derek while they were going on a date, you were to stay the night at the Morgans, go to kindergarten the next day and they would pick you up, but that night the house burnt down and they didn’t get out in time. The Morgans had adopted you as soon as they could, you had no other living family so they took you in, you were practically family to them already so it made sense to everyone.

As you grew up it was realised you were a lot smarter than the average child, you were able to test into a private school who gave you a scholarship through elementary and middle school, it gave you a good setup to go through to their partnered high school. You had an agreement that if you consisted with your performance that you would go through to the high school with a full ride scholarship then most likely go to some form of an ivy league but one day in middle school you were learning about arsonists who intend to kill in criminology, not a normal subject but it was offered so you took it, and you were taught about your house fire. The house fire you thought was due to faulty sockets, Derek and Fran had told you that at the time.

You were frozen, listening to the teacher talk about how your parents were a part of a string of murders where the houses were then burnt down to cover them up, they were not explicit on the details, you were all still in eighth grade, but it was enough to shake you. You got lucky in the fact it was the last period of the day so you could get out of there immediately after, you practically fell over your own feet trying to get out of the room, only half sure you remembered everything.

As soon as you had gotten off the grounds you ran home, you knew Derek was the only one there as your mom was working and your sisters had moved out. You were thanking the gods he was home for the weekend. He had moved out some time ago but stopped by when he could now that it was just you and your mom. Despite your thirteen year age gap you were closer with Derek than you were your sisters, you had always spent the most time with him while he lived in the house and you both kept in regular communication once he moved out, unlike with your sisters. They were never mean to you, you just never formed as close of a bond.

Once you do reach home you fall through the door, tears threatening to fall, both in anger and in bitter sadness. You were angry you were lied to and devastated that your parents were not just murdered but apparently tortured in their own home. You bolt straight to the living room knowing that's where Derek would probably be.

“Hey hey hey, what's wrong sweets?” Derek asks as you appear around the doorway, chest heaving and tears now flooding your cheeks as sobs wrack through your body. “THEY WERE MURDERED DEREK, MY PARENTS, NOT JUST MURDERED, TORTURED THEN BURNT ALIVE AS THEY BLED OUT!” you yell at him, for the first time in your life you yell at him in anger, you had been angry at him before, typical sibling fights growing up but you had never shouted, it just wasn't in your nature. He looked confused, then guilty quickly followed by sympathy and sadness. “How, how did you find out?” he asked, he looked like he wanted to approach you but you glared at him in a way he hadn't seen before, you looked both scared and furious, he knew he didn't have much time to explain before you decide to not talk to him until you could trust him again. “Can you sit. I'll make hot cocoa and explain everything, promise.” He sees you relax slightly but you go the opposite way around the couch purposely to avoid him.

To Derek's credit he did explain most of the details, he left some out and told you he did so, he knew you understood more than practically anyone your age, you were doing highschool courses in middle school but that didn't mean he wanted you to know the full details of how your parents were murdered, no matter how old or smart you were. You were a mess by the end of it, you were so angry but it wasn't directed at Derek or Fran anymore, just the man the BAU caught and had put away for life.

That day had instilled a determination and an anxiety in your mind. You were determined to join the BAU one day, human behaviour was already a fascination of yours so it seemed like the right choice, it had been on your radar anyway, but you also began struggling mentally. You started struggling to speak in places that weren't home, it didn't matter who it was trying to talk to you, you just couldn't get the words out.

Where the school was filled with genius children a high percent of your grade was based on participation meaning when you stopped speaking, your grades started dropping, rapidly. You knew what was coming before it officially came.

You got the letter.

You have been rejected from Sweetwood High School for the upcoming academic year and have been denied scholarship from The Towers foundation. Due to policy you will not be able to reapply. We thank you for your application.

And you cried. A lot. But no matter how much you tried you still couldn't get yourself to talk when you weren't at home. The school wasn't all that supportive, the counsellor just told you to talk and teachers just got frustrated with you, often yelling at you. Kids began bullying you for your lack of speaking. It just became a hellish place on earth. Then Derek moved to Virginia just after you graduated middle school.

You managed to keep the not talking and the slipped grades to yourself, you even managed to keep the rejection from sweetwood from your mother. You had gotten acceptance from the local high school just down the road from your house given your middle schools C equalled out to their A* they were happy to have you.

You managed to keep up your act until you had Derek on your bed one evening, holding your report card, the letter of concern and rejection letter. You were expecting a lecture, maybe he would yell at you like you had those months ago. “I'm sorry, I don't know why this is happening.” is all you said, sagging in defeat. “Come with me over to Virginia, kid. I've been getting phone calls practically off the hook and I didn't want to confront you but I think you need a change of place. I spoke to Mom already and as long as you still visit when I do she's okay with it.” So that's really why you hadn't been caught out, noted. “What's going on kid?”

And now you were here, walking into your job at the FBI, with two doctorates with an in progress third, two master's degrees and three fast tracked bachelors degrees to boot, you had skipped high school physically but you had done high school courses in middle school and late elementary so you had the credits. You focused your first two Bachelors on having fun as they took you a year a piece so you had them at fifteen, One in psychology and the other in Mechanical engineering. Then you got serious and gained your bachelors in criminology, masters degrees in psychology and linguistics then completed your PHDs in Linguistics and Psychology and you were now around six months away from finishing your third PHD in Mathematics. You had plans to gain another degree, be it a masters or another PHD. But you were going to take a break to get settled into the BAU once you had finished your current work.

“Hey sweetheart, you ready?” Derek asks, giving you his million watt smile as the lift doors open and you step out into the lobby. You nod signing to him. “Yeah but talkings just is not going to happen. Can you translate? The last thing I want is an actual translator on my first day.” Derek had learnt sign language to make life easier for you, and him really, no more writing down everything. “Sure thing sweetheart, Hotch has text to speech software set up on a designated laptop for you as well for when I'm not there as you’re go between or for meetings.” and you visibly relax at that. This place already seemed more welcoming to your lack of talking than anywhere else and you had barely started. “Cmon, let's go to Hotch's office, you have paperwork and introductions to do.'' He led you through the bullpen up to Hotch's office and poked his head in to tell him you were here where you were then told to come in.

“y/n, good to see you again” He greets, reaching across the table to shake your hand. You nod giving him a smile in greeting. “We do have a case so the team is in the round table room down the hall now but I have to make a phone call so you have about ten minutes to make introductions. You can do the substantial paperwork when we get back just sign this form so I can give you your standard issue and Agent ID.” He explains, you appreciate him running through everything and sign the form on his desk, taking the gun and badge he hands you. You give him another nod and smile as you go to leave the room. “Oh and y/n? The team knows your selective mute, so they won't ask questions, I hope that was okay.” You nod, you're fine with people knowing your selective mute. You just hoped that once you were comfortable around the team you were going to be able to talk to them, atleast at the office.

You head down the corridor to the meeting room where the team were gathered, You had their names and faces committed to memory from pictures of the team Derek had around the house. You could have moved out years ago but Derek preferred you stayed with him, he had a great security system in a much better area than you could afford and it was closer to the Bureau and the university where you did research and professor work and it was a comfort to him knowing he could protect you easier where you lived with him. He also had you trained in guns and self defence so you could look after yourself and for his own piece of mind when you were alone at home or out and about once he started at the BAU.

Your anxiety ramps back up as you step into the room, all eyes turning too you as you walk through the doorway. You look towards Derek pleading with him to start introductions before it gets awkward. “This everyone is my baby sister y/n, she's a new agent with us.” He introduces you as you hover slightly towards him. Recognition spreads across the agent's faces, “Your Derek's sister? Oh my god you're so pretty!” A woman you recognise as Penelope squeals, rushing over to hug you. You hugged her back, Derek had warned you she was one for physical affection before you came. “It's so nice to meet you but I have to ask, what are we calling you given your both agent Morgans?” she asked as she pulled away. You smiled and began signing, not entirely sure Derek would be able to see your hands but he knew the answer so it didn't matter anyway. “I have two doctorates so Doctor Morgan or Doc works in the field, other than that you can use my first name.” Derek manages to translate for you despite the awkward angle. With the team nodding. You turn to face them where Emily, JJ Spencer and Rossi all introduce themselves, Spencer asking you in sign if you could talk about your PHDs later to which you nod excitedly, partly at being able to speak to another person about your PHD and having a second person on the team speak sign. It was then that Hotch came in to begin the briefing.

“You ready? You can always start the next case you know right? No one expects you to hit the ground running, you know.” Derek checks in with you as you head out of the room. “Yeah I know but I'm here to solve cases not sit around Derek, I'll be fine, I have a bag in my car.” He gives you a nod as he diverts to his desk leaving you to carry on down to the parking lot before heading to the tarmac.

Once you get settled onto the jet Spencer joins you, opting to sit in front to make it easier for him to read your hands, you guessed he knew ASL but hadn't had much practise using it with other people. When Derek joined you on the jet he just nodded at you and sat in a chair not far away, knowing you were happy where you were, talking about the things you loved with someone who actually understood them for once in a way that wasn't awkward for either of you. A perfect match in his eyes.

Taglist; @reidstheyfriend

#greyswritings #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #derek morgan #derek morgan fanfiction #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #david rossi #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds series #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine

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eideticallys · 11 months

Text

I Don't Mind If It's You

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: maybe styling spencer’s hair should be an everyday thing for both of you.

genre: fluff

word count: 1081

author's notes: i missed spencer's long hair so i decided to write a self-indulging fic about playing with his hair. also posted on ao3 (spencereids).

SPENCER HAS ALWAYS FOREGONE STYLING HIS HAIR IN THE MORNINGS. He always thought as long as he could just flick the strands of hair behind his ear, he was good to go. And besides, he had a hair tie with him. He could just simply tie it back—no more pesky hair in his line of sight.

He has always foregone styling his hair in the mornings until he met you. While he was big on practicality & “Hairstyling is a waste of time”!” You were the exact opposite.

It’s quite a funny thing to think about. Spencer, a certified germaphobe, was uncaring about how his hair looked, whether it was kept well today or it looked like a bird’s nest the next. And then, there’s you. You’re not a germaphobe though you pride yourself as a chic woman. Not a law enforcement job could stop you from looking like you came straight out of a magazine.

You always found the time to make sure your hair looked pretty and presentable before heading to work. In your free time—quite rare for FBI agents—you liked to read magazines for trendy new styles to try or watch videos online for tutorials.

And today was definitely your lucky day. No case. Everyone is off for the holidays.

Unfortunately, that’s where your luck ended.

You got injured during your last case. Your arm is in a cast, unable to move it around like you wanted it to. Fortunately, your hand was still good & thankfully, uninjured, unlike the rest of your arm. So, although you were free to lounge around your home, you couldn’t try that one hairstyle you found in one of those Cosmopolitan articles.

Until a genius idea came to you like a light bulb turning on.

“Hey, Spence?”

You asked your boyfriend, who was busy skimming through what seemed like his third or fourth book of the day.

He’s so cute when he’s all focused like this, you thought.

He hummed in response, still couldn’t tear his eyes away from the pages.

“I have a favor to ask you.”

This made Spencer look up from what he was reading, staring at you questioningly. You were the type of person who never asked for help or favors—unless needed. You often disagreed with him because he would prefer it if you told him whatever problem you had. Although he was a genius and could help with you, he knew lending an ear to someone was already a big help.

"You know I can't move my arm around, right?" You asked him, to which he nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, is it itchy?” He asked, about to go off on one of his notable tangents. “It takes around six to eight weeks for broken bones in casts to heal. Also, around that time, the injured area starts to itch.”

You nodded fondly at the man, not minding a little bit that he went off-topic. You love listening to his mini-lectures—not only do you learn something new, but you’d also hear the soft tone of his voice. One thing about Spencer is he had a pretty voice. You could listen to him talk for hours.

“There are five main reasons why your casts itch—nerves, trapped moisture, immune response, dead skin cells, and body hair.” Spencer continued tattling. “Nerves cause itchiness because the nerve endings in the skin may fire as the cast begins to harden and dry, sending itch-inducing signals to the brain. As for the itchiness being an immune response, it ensues when the body perceives the plaster of Paris or fiberglass as an outside invader. Histamines may be released. Itching, redness, and swelling can be brought on by released histamine.”

With his excitement to share facts about how broken bones heal, you couldn’t help but laugh at how dorky but adorable your boyfriend was, which made him scrunch his nose.

“I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“You are, but I don’t mind. I like it.”

At this, Spencer’s ears started turning pink, making you chuckle some more. He scratched the back of his neck in shyness as you took it as a clue to tell him what you needed from him.

“My arm isn’t itchy, babe,” you began, “What I need from you is your hair.”

“My what?”

“Your hair.”

It was your turn to get shy. You knew Spencer wasn’t a big fan of having his hair messed with. It’s not that he hates it. He just doesn’t like messing with it that much—minus the occasional flicking behind his ear and simply tying it back when it gets irritating.

“I—um,” you explained further, trying to fight against the embarrassment you were feeling. This was your boyfriend you’re talking to! “I saw this cute new hairstyle online and I wanted to try it but you know, with the broken arm and all…” You trailed off.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” You chuckled humorlessly, beyond embarrassed at this point.

This was such a bad idea. Why did you even bring it up? You were about to start berating yourself, ready to hop onto the next train and create a new identity for yourself, when you noticed Spencer shuffling towards you, sitting on the floor between your legs.

“You want me to style your hair?” You asked incredulously, still can’t believe Spencer would let you play with his hair.

“Of course.” He replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world

Like it was an everyday thing for anyone—you—to do his hair.

“I don’t mind my hair being played with if it’s you.”

At that, you blushed as you started combing through his soft curls with your fingers. Spencer merely smiled softly at the gesture and closed his eyes.

“Y/N?” Spencer asked quietly.

“Yeah?” You asked back as you started braiding his hair. “What is it, Spence?”

“I love you.” He muttered. “I may not like it when people touch my hair out of nowhere. But if it’s you, I don’t mind having you do it for the rest of my life.”

You gasped at his sudden confession and were about to say those three words back when you felt it.

Spencer planted a kiss on your injured arm and pulled your other one down, so he could be face-to-face with you. And before you knew it, his lips brushed against yours, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks.

Maybe styling Spencer’s hair should be an everyday thing for both of you.

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smok3r7 · 27 days

Text

They Always Come Back

Aaron Hotchner x f!reader

Explicit, 18+

Letting Him Go

Main Masterlist & Series Masterlist - My AO3

Summary: You and Aaron met in college, Criminology Major, funny enough. Throughout your five years at George Washington College, you and Hotchner had this on and off again relationship; it was all fun until you started to realize that you loved him. After graduation the two of you cut ties and left it as dumb college love, going your separate ways. After a decade you finally land your dream job, a seat at the BAU; however when you notice the name copied on the email, you can’t believe your eyes.

Chapter Summary: It’s your Senior year, you’re finally done after this and you couldn’t be more excited. This year is a little different than the others but some of the problems are the same, is there any coming back from it or is this the end of the road for Aaron and you?

Word count: 8k

Warning: angst, fluff, verbal fighting

—

“Ethnocentrism,” Aaron states as he glances up from the small white flash card that rests in his stomach, covering the definition so you don’t cheat. Like he caught you doing earlier, on one of the easier words, obviously knowing the answer and wanting to play with him a little bit.

You and Hotch have been studying for Winter midterms for the past two hours in your dorm. Kelly’s out with Bella and it’s nice to have the place to yourself. He wanted you to quiz him first since he was focusing more on the Law side of his classes, which you were fine with - it gave you a chance to re-learn and review some things of your own.

Mainly because tests have never been your strong suit. You always second guess yourself and end up scoring lower, but still passing, than your overall grade.

It takes a second for your brain to process the word he just told you, but with the cogs turning, it finally clicks.

“The belief that a person's culture or group is superior to any others.” You gently swivel side to side in your rolling chair at the end of bed, away from Aaron. Your heads tilted up to the ceiling, and your hands rest while intertwined on your belly, you’ve found it’s the best way to focus, so you don’t get distracted by anything.

“Good shit baby,” he chimes, “Now let’s try this one- Syntax.”

Uuuhhhh, you groan. For some reason, your brain is blanking. You thought this would be easier because you’ve taken the time to memorize them and their definitions. Even though you party a significant amount, you also are on top of your school work, and you’ll be damned if you let this opportunity slip away from you.

“Gimme a hint please,” you sigh after a few more seconds of thinking, and start rubbing your eyes with your palms, trying to relieve the pressure that’s beginning to build. The irritation of not knowing the definition right away is messing with you, and you’re not sure if it’s just because you’re on the spot or you’re too stressed about failing.

“There are four types, or groups, of this.” His voice is smooth, flowing like a calm river.

You have to stop yourself from getting distracted by him, even though you’re not looking at him, the vibration that he has in his voice still takes your mind away from the task at hand. So you spin your chair around so your body is now facing the door.

“What are-“

“Sshhh!”

“Yes ma’am.” His smirk is plastered all over his face, you just know it.

Four groups, four groups, four groups, four-

“Specific words that come together and form sentences and, or phrases!” You spin around, quickly lowering your head to look at his reaction, and by the nod of his head with a smile - you can’t help but feel amazing.

“That’s it,” he remarks, “and that was the last one.”

“Damn, look at me!” You clap once, sincerely proud of yourself for getting there, “wait, really?” He laughs, yes dear, and takes the stack of white cards off of his belly and moves them to your bedside table. “That went by so fast,” you spring up from your chair and move to your mattress, crawling on top Aaron who’s laid back on your pile of pillows.

“Well, hello there,” he purrs, his arms open so you can place yourself where you want, moving up enough so that your chin rests in the middle of his chest, and the rest of your body lays on his torso and in between his open legs. Your arms come up to rest under your chin, so neither of you are uncomfortable, and his large arms wrap around your waist like a cocoon, squeezing tightly for a second before releasing a bit.

You can’t help but stare up at his face and your heart swells at the thought of him not being yours - he’s your one and only, and you’re his one and only. The face that’s normally serious and edged, is now soft and gentle, the lines are still there but softer than ever - he seems relaxed. You must be staring considerably longer than normal because you watch as his eyebrows start to furrow and curve, just a fraction than usual.

“What?” He questions, the corner of his lips curve just a bit and his cheeks start to have this pink hue to them.

“Didn’t say nothin’,” you murmur back, your right hand comes out from under your chin and you start to draw circles with your pointer finger on his chest. “Just like lookin’ at my boyfriend, is that a problem?”

“Not at all baby,” he calmly replies, next thing you feel is his right hand leave your waist and finds a new spot under your chin and makes you look at him. “As long as I get to look at you too.”

“I don’t mind.” You smirk and he follows your facial expression while simultaneously pulling your face towards his and kisses you. Which starts out slow and gentle, but then turns into a needy one; teeth clashing, tongues fighting for dominance, and hands scratching every inch of one another’s bodies.

His hands have found their way under your, his, shirt and firmly grip your skin, leaving bruises for you tomorrow.

However, you hear the door swing open behind you and Kelly and Bella talking to each other, loudly. “Jason is just all about-“

“Don’t y’all knock?” Both you and Aaron groan, letting both your heads fall in opposite directions - yours on his chest and his back onto the pillows under and behind him. Bella and Kelly must be hammered because they both start screaming with laughter and trying to say words in between each laugh.

“You two,” she squeals,”are just-” a snort interrupts her before she finishes, “perfect!” Kelly’s fallen to the floor, on her knees as she grips the door handle and Bella is leaning against the counter on the left side of the room, losing it.

Even though they just messed up whatever stress relieving, dick-sucking, pussy pounding fucking you two would’ve had - you can’t help but laugh at them. Not with, at. “Have a fun time guys?” You ask as you just shake your head at them, then turn around to Aaron, who is laying there with his hands behind his head and giggling at your two best friends.

—

You’re walking back to your truck from the library, two large textbooks in your arms, a pearl colored purse hung on your right shoulder tucked under your arm, the crisp fall air flowing around you and causing warm colored leaves to swirl by. A small chill runs up your jean jacket and black tanktop and causes your shoulders to jolt and tense up, you pick up your pace to get out of the chilly weather.

You really miss the warm summer air that disappeared about a month ago in mid-October. It could start snowing any day now, so you’re trying to savor every moment before it does - you’re really shocked that it hasn’t already started considering it’s the first week in December, but you won’t complain.

The books are for two different lectures; ASL and Communication Studies, two of your four courses left until you graduate in the Spring. You figured the cheapest and smartest way for you to really grind on studying for midterms next week was to get these books, to loan them from the library, and just make sure you remember to return them before Winter break.

“Girl- hold up, you’re too fast,” Kelly yells behind you, her matte white kitten pumps clicking on the pavement as she runs to you.

You met Kelly this past September in your Communication Studies class after being forced to be in a group together for a project, but you both quickly learned that you two are like, one in the same. More than you and Bella, which you thought was virtually impossible, so when the three of you get together - let’s just say, things get rowdy.

Not long after meeting her and introducing her to Bella, you guys became a popular trio on campus, you guys are almost always together. Everyone on campus calls you guys the Three Musketeers because of how much time you guys spend together and the trouble you get into.

The group consists of; you, who everyone seemed to know and love. You were known around campus as “Keg girl” or “Knockout”, the names alone are extremely accurate and self explanatory - you love your cheap beer and love to knock out bitches, what can you say? You aren’t really proud of it, but it’s college, right? And at least you’re passing with flying colors and have been since you enrolled.

Next is Bella, who is no more than five-foot-two with curves, the whole hips and tits vibe, having gorgeous doe eyes, and strong facial features. Her hair is a soft chestnut brown that’s thin and down to the middle of her back, all while having this hilarious, bubbly personality. She’s the kind of friend who’s going to make you do karaoke and make a fool out of yourself - which you honestly adore her for because it brings you out of your shell even more.

Then there’s Kelly who’s older than you by four years but she’s nothing but a ray of sunshine and laughs, she’s always the life of the party but she can turn it off without any hesitation, which is why she fits in so well. She’s taller than Bella but thinner, five-seven on a good day as Kelly says, but she’s all legs and she knows it.

This girl's whole wardrobe is nothing but kitten heels, pencil skirts, fitting slacks, expensive blouses, button ups, and business dresses - she has ‘party’ clothes, but not that many. Her dark black hair has always been cut short in a bob that aligns up to her chin, her natural tanned skin has light freckles scattered all over her body but she has a small cluster on her nose and cheeks.

The three of you are absolutely perfect for each other.

So when you came back and was shown your large dorm room, you were terrified of what kind of roommate you were going to get because Bella was permanently living with Henry. When you found out that Kelly was your roommate, you were ecstatic, you really had lucked out.

Kelly also grew up raised only by her mother and has an incredible relationship with her, much like you and your mom. The only difference is she is learning to become a criminal defense attorney and you give her so much credit for that, because not many people want to have that job - shit you know you don’t, even with the insane pay rates.

But it’s nice that she’s betting for the other team because this gives you the chance to also learn with her, so you can learn how to have the upper hand in situations later on. For example, say you make it to the BAU, like you dream, and there’s an unsub who lawyers up immediately. Your knowledge is going to be valuable because with the help from Kelly, you’ll know what questions to ask or to stay away from and you will some-what have an idea what’s going on in the brain of the attorney.

“I told you, I wanted to get back to Aaron’s before it gets too late,” you shout back to her, realizing she caught up to you so you lower your voice so you don’t shout in her face. “Thought you said you were fast in heels Kel’s?” You laugh as you reach the driver side of your truck, Kelly going to the passenger.

“I am! You’re just a fast walker!” She smiles as she pulls the door open and climbs onto the cool leather seat, slamming her door shut. “Also you still have-'' she looks at the clock on the dash as you twist the key into your ignition, the rumble of your engine loud. “-At least another forty-five minutes before it’s ’too late’.”

While you listen to her higher pitched voice try to convince you she’s right, you turn your upper body so you can set your books in your backseat. You throw your white shoulder purse back there too, it bothers you too much when you drive if you wear it.

Turning back around to face the steering wheel, you realize what she just said. “Wait- did you say forty-five?” You glance at your clock that reads, “6:07PM” and you scoff, throwing your head back on your headrest. You thought it was closer to seven and had to hurry back. Since you and Aaron came from your moms, the two of you have a movie night on Thursdays - mainly because it was a day where you could let loose and not worry about school or work, it helped that it was also yours and his Friday.

“I told you,” Kelly sings as she slaps her small hand on your jean covered thigh, “So don’t worry about it, let’s go get a drink real quick. My treat!”

Your head perks up and turns to face her immediately at her offer, a smug smile slowly appears, “Danny’s?”

“Drive then baby!” She chimes, pulling her seatbelt over her shoulder and clicking it secure.

Before you take off, you too click your seatbelt on, then turn your radio on and once again, Doug and Carrie’s voices fill your truck. But before you get a chance to listen to what they’re talking about, the beat of the next song fades in and you can’t believe it - it’s your and Kelly’s song, My Lovin (You’re Never Gonna Get It) by En Vogue.

“Ouhh bop!” You both sing together, you turn the volume knob louder so the beat thumps from your front and back speakers, “No, you’re never gonna get it!” Kelly bounces her shoulders to the music and swipes the loose strands of her shiny black hair behind her ear to be with the rest of her short, bobbed hair.

You put your truck in drive and you pull out of the semi-busy parking lot and head towards the local College bar, Danny’s.

—

“Are you sure you don’t wanna-” she hiccups, “stay here with me?” Kelly drunkenly laughs as she sits in the booth across from you. You two have been at Danny’s for just over thirty minutes and somehow she’s successfully gotten drunk; that’s what happens when she takes five shots of Patron back-to-back, with no water in sight.

You’ve only had two over the span of the thirty minutes, you’re feeling it more as a body buzz rather than a fucked up kinda buzz - you felt comfortable and safe to drive the two blocks you had to get back to the dorms.

“Uh- yeah Kel’s,” you assure her but quickly turning the question back to her, “Are you sure you don’t wanna come back with me?” You know that she can handle herself but there’s always that level of concern of something happening because it can happen to anyone.

“Yeah- you just go hang out with Hotchy boy and I’ll-“

“Kelly!” A girl squeals on the other side of the bar, as you pick your head up to look and you see Maria weaving through the crowd of college students. Maria and Kelly grew up together, much like you and Bella but Maria doesn’t go to GWC, she got a job as the security guard for one of the museums in D.C and lives with her boyfriend, Greg.

“Maria!” Kelly cheers as she slides out of the booth and pulls Maria into her arms for a giggly hug. “What are you doin’ here baby?” She pulls away and stumbles back a bit until her ass bumps the table and she slides to her left, plopping herself down on the worn out leather seat.

“We’re out for Greg’s birthday, was gonna call you but I got too hung up on the surprise!” She laughs, then turns when she notices on the other side, “Oh my god I’m so rude, how are you girl?”

You grab your purse that’s laying on your thighs and slide out of the booth so you can properly greet and hug her, “I’m doin’ good, thank you! I was actually just on my way out to meet up with Aaron ‘n was tryna convince Kel’s to come back to our dorm.”

“No, I told you I’m fine-“

“Hangout with us! I can bring you back later tonight, no problem!” Maria suggests with a grin that fills her face, her natural coiled curls bounce with her movements. “I mean, I was supposed to invite you anyway!”

You watch as Kelly’s face lights up with excitement, she then spins to face you and you can tell that she wants to stay and have fun - you can’t blame her.

“Okay okay, just- be safe please!” You finally give in to her pleas, “Call me when you get back, Kel’s, I mean it. Don’t pull a ‘New Years’ on me.” You mimic a phone with your pinky and thumb, raising it to your ear making sure she remembers, or maybe Maria will then remember.

“Eeii, thank you baby! I’ll remember,” she hiccups, “to call, I promise!” She giggles and leaps into your arms for a hug, making you stumble a bit from her force. Alright alright, love you girl, you mumble into her shoulder before she lets go of you so you can say goodbye to Maria. “Keep an eye on her, she likes to wander,” you laugh as she nods her head and chuckles, “lt was nice to see you for a second, be safe ‘n tell Greg said happy birthday!”

“Oh trust me girl, I know! I sure will, drive safely and tell Aaron ‘hi’ from us.” She states as she hugs you tightly. You pull away and make your way towards the double glass doors that lead to the busy sidewalk. But before you push them open, you turn around a blow rapid kisses towards Maria and Kelly, they both mimic back.

—

After you dropped things off at your dorm and quickly changed out of your day clothes, into light gray leggings and one of Aaron’s hoodies. You start walking over to Aaron’s for your movie night. Tonight is “A League of Their Own”, you absolutely love this movie, as soon as it came out on VHS you bought it.

Aaron has still not seen it, he’s not opposed to it, you’ve always just watched movies that neither of you have seen - a couple repeats here and there, but not that often.

With the VHS in your purse that hangs over your shoulder, you walk up the last flight of stairs that lead to his dorm room. As you make your way past the door and down the lightly packed hallway, for some reason this eerie feeling clouds your head and you’re not sure why.

Maybe it’s the alcohol, you think to yourself. You’re not drunk by any means, but the tingly feeling lingers in your stomach and head. However, there’s something else that’s bothering you and you can’t put your finger on it.

Whatever that gut feeling is, it subconsciously tells you to wait before you open his door, you want to listen and see if anything is different. Putting your right ear up to the white door and your heart sinks - you’re able to hear his voice talking to someone.

“She’s gonna be here any minute, you gotta go cause she’s gonna kill you. If she sees you and I, here- dead.”

“I’m not scared of her and why are you? And like you said, we’re not doin’ anything, so what’s the problem?”

“Well- I’ve helped you with what I can-“

You can’t eavesdrop anymore, you know it’s her. You can’t miss the trashy tone that she has. This bitch really doesn’t care about her life, huh?

You swing the door open and you’re steaming with rage, not caring what vial words fly out of your mouth.

“Tiffa- Are you fuckin’ series right now?” Your heart rate increases, practically jumping out of your chest, your blood boils, and your vision has tunneled on them as you stand in Aaron’s doorway.

Your brain completely forgets about the movie date you two have. You just busted in on Aaron and Tiffany sitting on his bed, much like how you two did that one night - when he apologized for the incident with Tiffany.

Too focused on their close proximity, you don’t even register that there are different Law books, notebooks, and flashcards that surround their criss-crossed legs. Clearly studying, but that’s the last thing you think about because you know she has an underlying reason to be here.

She wants to get under your skin and she’s just asking for trouble, it’s all she wants. You’re mainly blown away by how comfortable she is here in his dorm, alone with him after the night at Jackson’s party; after knocking her out cold and telling her to stay away.

Did she not get the fuckin’ memo?

Your mind goes straight to the worst, he’s actually done it, he’s cheated on me. Tears threaten to burst from your eyes, your throat tightens, and your stomach sinks past the hardwood floor. You’re trying to keep your composure mainly in front of Tiffany, who is staring at you as she stays next to him with slanted eyes and a smug smile, checkmate bitch, written all over her freckled face.

Not backing down to her, you stare back at her because you don’t want her to know that she got to you and won, because that is not what happened here. Even though it sure seems like it, you refuse to give her that satisfaction. She is the very last person, if ever, to get to know that just because you know that you are a better person than her - as a friend and as a partner.

She would use this opportunity to her advantage whenever she could, but you’re not going to give her the chance.

While your hands balled into fists at your sides, biting your bottom lip sharply, enough for the taste of copper to seep into your mouth, and you can just feel the heat radiating off of your face from the embarrassment and rage. You’re trying your damn best to not lose your shit and charge her, because you’re pretty sure you’d end up putting her in the hospital - if not worse.

You know that you can’t do that to yourself, you’ve done nothing but try your hardest to get to where you are right now, and you’re not going to risk that over some fraternity whore. You also know that you’re more deserving of someone to be real with you and for someone who truly loves you to take care of you and be there for you.

And it finally clicks that Aaron just isn’t giving you that. He did for a while, but since Thanksgiving last week, something changed.

His attention hasn’t been the same, he’s constantly out with the guys, more than usual, and he’s been making excuses to not hang out. Then when you two get a chance to yourselves, he’s very reserved, quieter than usual, and not as touchy like he normally is. The sex was still great, but the connection just didn’t seem to be there.

At first you weren’t sure what to think, he wasn’t giving you anything to go on, but now that you walked in on this - it all makes sense, the puzzle has finally come together. Or at least, from your perspective it seems like that’s the only outcome from what’s currently in front of you.

“No- it’s not what-“ panic. It’s the one emotion you can read from his face and hear from his voice.

“Just- Fuck you Aaron, we’re done.” The lump in your throat causes your voice to break at the last inflection of your words, how could he do this to me, again?

You slam his dorm room door shut and bolt down the hallway that leads to the stairs, aggressively pushing the metal door to escape. Your vision is blurred from the tears that finally fall from your eyes as you do your best to jog down the four flights of the spiral-like staircase, causing you to stumble a tiny bit on the first landing as you round the corner.

Why am I so stupid? How did I not see this coming? Of course he’s still fuckin’ with her, stupid of me to not think that. Well, good job Aaron cause you just lost me for good.

“Wait-“ the echo of Aaron’s pleading voice calling out your name and the popping of his shoes down the cement stairs pierces your ears as you reach the metal door that leads to the outside. Leave me alone. Just one more step and you can really be gone for good, leaving him alone with her - but a sliver of you doesn’t want that.

Maybe it’s selfish of you, but you want him all to yourself, but you’ll never admit that, there’s just no way that you can. Because when he does things like this, you look so stupid in front of his and your own friends and you’ll be embarrassed if that will continue.

He calls out your name again as you stand there, hands on the metal bar ready to shove the heavy door open. You take a deep breath in and out, blocking out the sound of him as you get ready to exit the stairs.

As you swing the door open, you're met with the most intense thunderstorm you’ve seen here in D.C these last few years. Oh- so it can rain but not snow, fantastic, you think as you take a quick overview of the path you need to take to get back to your dorm - preferably not soaked from the rain. But no matter which way you think about taking, you’re going to have to get drenched, fuck it.

Without hesitation, you run into the storm. Your black and white forces instantly drowning in the deep brown puddles that’ve formed on the sidewalk in a matter of a couple minutes. At the same time, the cold water splashes the bottom half of your leggings, staining them with mud as you sprint in the direction of your dorm. Of course it has to be on the other side of campus, a good five minute walk, at least.

You’re so caught up in running away from the man who can’t stop his repeated behaviors, that you don’t hear the voice that you love so much call out to you.

“Can you just- Stop?”

Finally, your brain acknowledges his presence, but your body still hasn’t. Your thoughts and the rain cause you to continue running away from him, from jealousy, and from heartbreak; but you don’t get far. You feel this large hand forcefully grab your left bicep, whipping you around to face Aaron.

Your hair is drenched as it lays behind your shoulders, raindrops sting your face from above and below as the water bounces off of his and your skin. Your insides are still boiling as you rip your arm from his grip, crossing your arms against your chest - a sign that you want to close off from the world, go into hiding so you don’t have to face this.

Neither of you say anything, just heavy breathing and unknowing glares to one another as the sharp rain continues to pour on and around you. Thunder booms loudly from above, quickly followed by a crack of lightning that briefly illuminates the darkly clouded sky. Usually thunderstorms calm you down from any stress from that day, but now it terrifies you, enough to make your shoulders jump just an inch as the rumble shakes the ground below you.

The embarrassment and frustration of putting so much time and work into a man who helped you find the true meaning of love, and for him to just keep shitting on you again and again - has taken over.

Your brain and heart feel like they got played, suckered even, because you’re naturally a giver in the relationship. Hotch is too but not even close compared to you, and he kept taking and taking and taking everything you would give, almost greedy for more sometimes.

Only giving about half of the same energy to you, sometimes more, but now that you look back - it’s just so you would stay with him, or at least that’s how you perceive it. But a little part of your head knows that he doesn’t know really, any better because of how he grew up - not saying it’s an excuse, however it puts his actions under a different light.

But yet again; that’s a very small part of you.

The majority of the other part is, you can’t believe you let him stomp over you like this, multiple times, over the course of five long years. But that’s the other thing, those five years were incredible. You and Aaron had the best chemistry and relationship together, for a long time, even on the bad days. Last Summer was huge for the two of you, it brought you closer together and made the connection so much stronger - so you’re not really sure where it all went wrong, so quickly.

You’re trying to gather your thoughts and you’re just getting soaked, not a care in the world about it. You print the image of the drenched, distressed looking man now a couple feet away from you, in the front of your brain.

The now maintained strands of black hair stick to his forehead and sides of his face, within the last couple months he started to keep his hair shorter. Since his beard is gone, you catch the way his jaw clenched as he catches his breath from chasing you. His eyebrows have the signature curved line to them to show his sincerity about what just happened, mainly to do with you. The rain has caused his baby blue button up to shift into a darker blue and clings to his skin, exposing his toned shoulders that you just want to bite into.

No, I'm mad at him ‘n I need to hold my own. I’m not gonna fold this time. I gotta say it.

“Why? Just so you ca- can lasso me in again?” You shout with confidence, but there’s also an inflection of heartbreak. “Like you always do. It’s the same thing again ‘n again, ‘n I don’t know why I keep fallin’ back into it. But, I do ‘n maybe that’s my fault but I can’t keep doin’ this Hotch. We’re almost done with school ‘n look at us,” you scream, throwing your hands out to your side, a cold gust of wind hitting your chest.

“We’re in the same fuckin’ place Hotch! It’s been five years ‘n for some reason, you just can’t seem t-to get it through your thick fuckin’ skull.” You’re screaming, but the thunder and lightning muffle your voice from the world so it’s only Aaron and you. “‘N'm not sayin’ I’m perfect, but at least I try to change. Unlike you ‘n your ignorant ass.” You scoff, shaking your head but never letting your eyes wander away from his glossy ones, watching as a tear escapes down his cheek.

Unbelievable.

“Tears, really? Are you really gonna fuckin’ cry now? When you’re the one who keeps fuckin’ up!” You almost laugh from the disbelief. “Why do you keep doin’ these things to me? Huh?” Your tone shifts to an aggressive one and your palms quickly go to his chest and you push hard, causing him to stumble back a bit. “Being so sweet ‘n tender with me, makin’ me feel worth something. ‘N then for you to just- have her in your room…alone?! It makes no sense to me- explain it to me why- please!”

Your voice shifts from sad, to angry, to confused, and any other emotion you could imagine. You just want to know why this keeps happening, and what he’s not learning to change - that’s really all you want at this time.

“Why?!”

At this point, the floodgates have opened, your salty tears and the stinging rain on your cheeks have become one liquid, but you’re also at your boiling point, ears are hot to the touch and steaming. You continue to shove him over and over as you shout at him, he never once fights back.

“I gave you everything. Brought you home to my-my Mom,” you gasp trying to catch your breath, the cold air rushes down your lungs, causing it to burn. Your shoves have now turned to punches, hard and direct on his chest from the bottom of your fist - he accepts everyone of them without protest.

“Showed you my hometown, talked ‘bout my family that I barely even know, ‘n showed you the most revealing parts of myself. ‘N you keep going back to her, her? What do you see in her that I don’t have? Why her and not me, why?”

By now Aaron’s back has hit the brick wall that leads to the stairs that you just ran out of, and thankfully has an awning to cover the cold rain, and he’s still allowing you to push him into it. He’s silent, not giving you any answers or even any clues about what he’s thinking - which you’re not sure if you do or don’t want to know.

However, no matter what he does at this moment, you’re going to be upset about it, and you have every right to be. You take a second to glance up from his chest, where the bottom of your fists rest against his dripping wet shirt.

You can’t read him.

His brows aren’t furrowed, so his age lines aren’t deep and prominent like usual, you can barely see the color in his eyes. All you can gather from his tears and features is, he’s upset, but you’re not sure about what. Either it’s about you ending things, or it’s about getting caught with Tiffany.

This has never happened before. The disbelief and anger that linger around yourself and him takes over your sadness really fast. It’s not another minute before your fists start beating him once again, harder than before.

“You’re an asshole Hotch ‘n I hate you. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate-“

Before you realize it, Aaron’s arms wrap around your jumping shoulders while you scream and sob into his damp shirt. Your punches have slowly turned into weak jabs, now that your body is being held against his as he holds you. Sshhh, baby sshhh, vibrates the top of your head and chest as he starts to rock side to side on his feet, trying to calm you down so you don’t have a complete panic attack.

“I hate that I still love you…Aaron.” You weakly sob, finally giving up on your punches and efforts to get away from him. You’ve used pretty much all the energy your body has to offer, so you slowly sink into him, giving in - like you always do.

No words are said, only the sounds of your sobs, the thunder, and the rain hitting the metal awning above, creating this loud noise that echoes. Your sobs are incoherent and loud, even with the muffle from his body.

You can’t help but feel absolutely pathetic. The fact that you’re letting a man control you and break you down to this point, that you’re bawling in his chest and yet, you still can’t change the fact that you do love him - it’s sickening.

It seems like no matter what he does, bad or good, you fall deeper and deeper for him.

Like when you guys came back from your moms five months ago and you both went to take care of your travel bags in your separate new, last, dorm rooms for the year. Aaron came over to your place for the night since Jeff, his roommate, was a prick and he didn’t want to deal with him. But you two finally had the opportunity to debrief everything from over the summer, and the way that he had nothing but respectful and considerate words about it all - had you head over heels for him.

But you fear that Hotch is gone, or at least it seems like it. That is, until he finally starts to let the words flow from his lips.

“I am so sorry,” he mumbles into your hair, you can hear the lump in his throat, “Nothin’ happened, baby.”

You don’t answer him, physically you can’t, your mouth and brain aren’t working together anymore. But in your head you’re screaming to him that you know that, he never would cheat on you. Ever. There’s just no way, it’s not in his character - but with all the overwhelming circumstantial evidence, it’s hard to think otherwise.

All you do is silently weep into his chest and let him cradle you in his arms side to side as he repeats over a dozen times, I’m so sorry, nothin’ happened, I love you.

—

“Oh my god, we’re finally here baby!” Bella squeals as she latches onto your right bicep and pulls you closer to her as you, Kelly, and Bella walk to the football field for your guys big day. Graduation.

“I’m gonna miss you guys so much, we gotta stay in touch okay?!” Kelly takes over, she’s to your left as she adjusts her navy blue cap and white tassel that hangs to the side of her face. The bright sun beaming down creates this beautiful aura that can only be described as sensational, the day you’ve worked so hard for is finally here.

“Well duh, what did you think? I was just gonna forget about my Kel’s?” You joke around and the three of you laugh.

And even though this is one of the happiest days of your life and you’re extremely proud of yourself - your heart aches and half of your smiles and laughs are forced so the girls don’t question you. Because today is not the day for a pity party, you guys are graduating after five years with your bachelors in Law and Criminal Justice - which is huge.

But your brain can’t help but think of Aaron. The two of you haven’t spoken much other than a hi and a small wave over the course of the last four months. No smiles, no hugs, no laughs, just a low acknowledgement of one another’s existence.

You wish that night never happened - it messed with your head completely, you lost all sense of happiness, even when you’re with the girls. They’re the only people to ever raise your spirits to the highest after something bad happens, and yet they couldn’t do it and they knew that, but they never stopped trying.

“You guys still haven’t talked huh?” Kelly asks, you must’ve zoned out for the whole duration of the walk to the football field. Before you answer her, the stadium roars of loud cheers, cowbells, and air horns from the families. After it quiets down a bit and you guys walk towards the crowd of students on the other end of the stadium, but on the outside, you tell them the truth.

“Nope. I haven’t even like- heard anythin’.” You sigh, “But I guess I started that, so I can't even be mad. I’m the one who said we should take a break, but I didn’t realize he wouldn’t even try.”

By now you three have reached the couple thousand students who are somewhat organized by last names like everyone practiced yesterday with Dean Martin and Holly. Thankfully you guys have last names starting with the same letter so you’ll be by each other in your seats and not have to be separated.

“Well if it makes you feel any better, I haven’t seen him with or even around Tiffany since then.” Bella tries to cheer you up, which kinda does. You give a small smile, but it quickly fades as Bella hugs you, in which you return it. However, the heat is starting to get to you, so you detach your arms from her body and look at your surroundings to see if any spot has even just a bit of shade. The material of the gown and the cap are not breathable in the slightest, you can feel yourself starting to sweat and you guys haven’t even gotten onto the field.

“Holy fuck, it’s hot! How long until this is done?” Kelly groans, “My makeup is literally melting off my face.” She looks into her small compact mirror that she keeps in her small handbag, and pats her face.

As you lean against the metal railing, a small section is being shaded by a large maple tree behind it, that leads to the stairs that go into the field, you start fanning your face with your right hand. “We’ve only just begun Kel’s, hate to be the one to say it but, I told you-“

“Three o’clock babe. He’s coming this way, want me to tell him to fuck off?” Kelly stops your banter, causing your head to twist to your left and your body tensed at the sight of Aaron in his navy gown and cap.

With no hesitation in your voice you tell her, no I’ll be right back, and without saying anything else you start to place one foot in front of the other to meet him. Your white pumps create fast clicks as you get closer and closer to the beautiful man who once used to be yours, and you know what you have to do.

Aaron looks nervous and terrified at the same time, but he also seems relaxed at the fact that you’re walking to him and not away. You can hear the tiny clicks of his black dress shoes hitting the pavements almost syncing with yours, then they stop when you jump into his arms and latch your arms around his neck and he hugs your torso.

A bunch of students start whistling and cheering as they watch, you can pick out the girls and Aaron’s people instantly.

Your cap bumps into his and ends up knocking his to the ground next to his left foot, hi baby, Aaron mumbles into your neck. You can’t help but giggle at the vibration his voice causes on your warm skin, hi Aaron, you whisper back. He lowers you until you feel your pumps hit the ground, but his hands haven’t left your body.

He looks down at your eyes intently, then to your lips and back up to check your answer, but before you give him one, you grab his face with both hands and plant a kiss that shows him how much you missed him. Your thumbs gently swipe up and down his freshly shaved skin as you pull away from his lips, both you and him have smiles that can’t be erased. Your mood has instantly transformed into a positive one, but your heart knows that you can’t keep this going.

“Can we talk really quick?” you ask him, “Away from everyone here. Just you ‘n me?” Aaron is fast to agree as he picks up his cap and he grabs your hand and leads you away from the crowd of people and towards the shed that holds all the football equipment.

How am I gonna say this? Can I do it? What if he doesn’t take it well? Why did it come down to this?

As you guys reach the white building and bend the corner so you're shielded by any onlookers, you put your back to the wall and Aaron is opposite of you. Your heart is in your throat pounding and trying to claw out and jump into Aaron’s, but your mind shoves it back down into your chest.

“Lemme’ start off by sayin’ I’m so so sorry for how these past four months played out.” You crack your fingers on both hands, a sign that you’re uncomfortable, and Aaron knows it. “I really wanted to reach out but I couldn’t find the right words. ‘N I’m pretty sure I still don’t, but I’m gonna try. What happened between us that night should never have occurred ‘n I know you ‘n her were never anythin’, but I just- I don’t know, I guess let it go.``

You look up at him and his brows are softly pressed together, like he’s listening to every word you say and he’s analyzing it to fully comprehend. You like that, it’s one of the things you learned to appreciate with him because when he does this, it means he’s willing to try. Why couldn’t you be like this all the time?

You reach out to grab his hands in each of yours as you stare up into his brown eyes that shimmer from the bright sun above you.

“I want you to know that I don’t regret any of the fun we had, or even the bad times. Cause it gave me room to grow ‘n find what I can do or need, so thank you. Please, don’t hold any grudges against yourself for this - it’s just how the dice rolled baby.” You pull his hands up to your lips so you can lay several kisses to his thick fingers before you continue. You’re trying to keep your composure in front of him and you can tell he’s doing the same, but he’s close to breaking.

“But just know this. You, Aaron Hotchner will always be my first love, my first heartbreak, but most importantly you’ll always have a place in my heart. I love you with my whole heart ‘n I know you will do incredible things in your life, I want you to go live them out. ‘Kay?”

Aaron doesn’t say anything, all he does is sniffle, take his right hand out of yours then goes into his slacks pocket and pulls it out. “I want you to have this. You can get rid of it if you want to later, but I want you to take it.” You put your right palm out and he sets this thin gold chain with a golden heart charm on it, you open it and it’s a pg picture of you and him the night of the carnival in your hometown.

When did- You question but he doesn’t let you ask before he pulls you into a hug that you can sense is your last.

“I’ll always love you.” He cries into your shoulder. The two of you silently cry together until it’s time for you both to go your own ways.

#aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner series #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotch x reader #criminal minds aaron hotchner #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner #criminal minds series #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #fluff #ANGST

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confused-pyramid · 16 days

Text

I’d Like to Think That You Would Stick Around | s6

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.

word count: 15.5k

warnings: SMUT, oral (m!receiving), masturbation, canon!typical violence, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, guns, drinking, angst, specific episodes mentioned in this part are 6x06, 6x08, 6x17, and 6x18.

a/n: Sorry for the long wait guys, school has been kicking my ass, but here's the next part! We're getting a lot of angst this chapter, but we're so so close to the good times ;) Hope you enjoy! Title is from Love Song by Lana Del Rey

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Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You are talking to Prentiss across the bullpen, laughing about something he can't hear, and he's freaking out. He shouldn't have left that night. He knows that. He just didn't know what else to do.

Never mind the fact that he has no idea how much you remember.

When you bumped into him on the way out of the elevator this morning, he swears you jumped back, but then you smiled at him, and he was able to convince himself that it was all fine. So why does it still feel like you are avoiding him?

He can still picture the dark expanse of your pupils as you leaned in closer after stumbling into him; he can still feel the rush of your breath as your gaze met his and his fingers tightened on your hip.

He walks into his office, before sitting at his desk and dropping his head into his hands. His blinds are just shut enough that no one from down in the bullpen can see into his office, and he welcomes the privacy as he rubs a hand over his face and forces his eyes away from the photograph of the two of you on his desk.

'Aaron...'

Your voice had sounded so soft, so hurt-

He shuts his eyes again and tries to think about anything else (maybe even the paperwork he's supposed to have been doing for an hour now) but every time he blinks, he sees your face again.

He has suspected the shift in your feelings for a little while now, but that night at the bar confirmed something he isn't sure he's ready to handle. He feels it too - of course he does - but he can't think about it. He can't.

He's floundering with Jack, with trying to be there for both him and the team, and he just lost Haley. God, he just lost Haley, and the idea of losing you too because he fucks it up just like he did with her is unimaginable. They were together for decades - they had a child together - and still he couldn't give her what she needed. Your friendship means everything to him, and if he does something to ruin your relationship too, he wouldn't be able to live with himself.

He glances out his window and sees you still talking to Emily, both of your heads now bent down to look at an open case file. She says something to you, and your face lights up as you grin at her. Something that feels like lava pools in his gut and he swallows thickly as he turns back to his paperwork.

***

You head back to your desk and drop the case file down as you resist the urge to glance up at his office window. He hasn't looked at you once today, and you can't help it as your mind goes to the worst case scenario of losing him forever because of one stupid moment.

You had considered pretending that you don't remember anything from the bar, but he just left you there. That isn't something you can forget so easily, and even as you're trying to ignore it, you don't want to avoid him. But it isn't that simple.

You're simultaneously hurt and embarrassed, but it isn't even your own feelings that are at the forefront of your mind. You haven't been to his place in over a week, and you miss Jack and you miss him. You haven't gone this long without talking to him in years.

Fuck.

***

Your quest to stay out of trouble results in you staying late at the office to get ahead on all of your work. Most nights you were staying even later than JJ and Aaron, but then JJ got sent to the DoD as a media liaison, and the work started piling up.

You did what you could to intercept some of the paperwork before it landed on his desk, especially since Jack was so close to starting preschool and you know Aaron wants to take any extra moment of face time he can get, but it wasn't a foolproof system.

That's why it's almost midnight after getting back from a case in Ohio, and Aaron's office light is still on. Knowing it's about time you broke the cone of silence you've been under, you walk up the stairs, giving yourself ample time to change your mind.

A minute later, you knock on his door, before pushing it open gently, waiting to see the look on his face.

"Oh, you're still here," he says, his eyes lingering on you for an extra moment before turning back to his work. "Come in."

You shut the door behind you and sit in the chair in front of his desk. It doesn't sink like it usually does, and it takes you a second to realize that he finally replaced it. After all this time...

"Are you heading home soon?" you ask, trying to feign nonchalance. You can't remember the last time you overthought every single thing you said to him.

Yes, you do, your brain mocks you. A film reel of your awkward senior year of high school starts playing in your mind and one lone thought sticks out among the cacophony of memories. You loved him.

"Yeah, I'm almost done," he says with a sigh, his eyes still trained on his paper.

You frown. "Really?"

"No."

That surprises a chuckle out of you and you lean forward in the chair. It's stiffer than you're used to, and it creaks as you slide in closer. "Want any help?"

He shakes his head. "You should head home. It's late."

You don't say anything and when he finally meets your eye, you shoot him a look.

He sighs, begrudgingly handing you a stack of files. "With JJ gone, it's been a little hectic. I have to go through the new cases coming in, as well as completing the post-case paperwork."

"Shit," you whisper, not knowing what else to say. Even as you tried to cut down his workload, it wasn't even scratching the surface. "I didn't realize that was all on you."

"Yeah, for the time being," he shrugs, raking a hand through his hair to push it back, even as it bounces right back into place. "But it'll be easier when they bring us someone new."

That stops you in your tracks. "How new? Because you know I really liked Jordan, but she was too green for the BAU."

"Newer," he says, his voice tinged with amusement. "They're considering some Academy cadets who are finishing up their remedial training."

"Cadets?" you echo, your voice rising an octave. "They're babies."

"They're at least 25," he states, the corner of his lip twitching. "Besides, their remedial training would have been with the BAU, so they'll know what they're getting into."

They'll know what they're getting into.

It's not a dig, but the juvenile corner of your brain hangs onto his words, trying to make out some double meaning.

"That's some relief, I guess." You flip open the first file, trying to pay attention as you scan the brief, but it just reminds you of how much you miss JJ.

"She was so much better at this," you groan, flipping the page. "I'm not sure anyone can replace her."

"I'm definitely sure that no one can," Aaron says simply as he glances up at you, "but we'll take any help we can get at this point."

There's a layer of subtext behind his tone, and you don't know if you're equipped to decipher it right now, after being up for almost 24 hours. Nevertheless, you don't give in as he looks at you, refusing to break eye contact.

Please be okay, your mind begs as the corners of his eyes crinkle. Please say I didn't fuck this all up.

His eyebrows raise slightly, checking in on you for the first time in so so long, and another thought takes over your mind. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Blinking away the thought, you nod, but you can't stop yourself as you clarify, "It's just a temp assignment, right?"

He finishes the sentence he was writing before looking up. "Yes. It's only temporary."

***

"Daddy, don't look at me."

Jack's voice filters out from his bedroom and he looks at Jess with a small laugh as she pretends to lock her lips and toss away the key.

"I'm not looking," he calls out. "Are you almost ready?"

There's a small sound of affirmation from down the hall, so he stands up from the couch and reaches for the little jack-o-lantern bag that Jack wanted to use for trick-or-treating.

When he looks up, his son is emerging from his room, dressed incredibly unlike the comic book character he wanted to be for Halloween.

"Whoa," Aaron says, his voice a low rumble. "That is definitely not Spider-Man."

Jack just shrugs. "He's not a real superhero."

"He's not?" He looks at his son again, trying to discern which superhero wears a suit. "Okay. I give up. Who are you supposed to be?"

The answer is immediate. "I'm you, Daddy."

Jess nudges his shoulder with a laugh before she walks forward and swings Jack into the air. "You look just like him, bud!"

He opens his mouth to add onto that sentiment, but his throat thickens with emotion and he has to clear his throat to get a word out. "You tied my tie so well." It's the best he can do with his eyes burning. All he wanted was for his son to feel safe and loved. Maybe I'm doing something right.

"Alright, buddy," Jess smiles, setting him down. "Grab your coat and shoes and we'll head out."

Jack runs off and she smiles at him again, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're a great dad."

"Thank you," he says simply, his lips curving up into a smile. She says it a lot, but for the first time in a while, he's finally starting to believe it.

Jess opens her mouth to say something, but she pauses for an extra second, piquing his interest. "I haven't seen Y/N around here in a little bit."

There it is. He should've seen it coming. "Yeah, she's just busy."

His words don't sound convincing, even to his own ears, and Jess shoots him a look to match. "I happen to know you quite well, Aaron. So if you're overthinking something you shouldn't be, let me be the first to say, you're being an idiot."

He lets out a surprised snort. "Thanks, Jessica."

"I'm just saying," she shrugs, tucking a strand of curly hair behind her ear. "I see things...and I know both of you, so it's not hard to read into things."

He takes a deep breath, pushing his hair back from his forehead. "It's not like that."

He expects her to push back, but she just presses her lips together and shrugs her coat on. "Either way, Haley saw it too...and she seemed happy about it."

Before he has a chance to fully process her words, Jack rushes out, barreling into him. "I'm ready!"

"Alright, my little G-man," he grins, pushing her words out of his head for the night. "Let's go get some candy."

***

Things have been shifting at the office. Ever since JJ left, the team has felt smaller, and with your unintentional (okay, maybe a little intentional) avoidance of Aaron, the office hasn't felt the same in a long time.

Everyone has been taking on more than they're used to, and when Penelope had to fill in for JJ in a press conference during your last case, you couldn't help but notice how she turned to Aaron for support whenever she felt unprepared.

Your curiosity about their shared secret was eating at you all day, until you received a mass email from him to the whole team. Re: Garcia's play, Tolgate Theater, 8pm

You didn't have any plans tonight anyway, and after long days in a seemingly endless rotation of slacks and blazers, you welcome the chance to dress up a little bit. It's not like you go out often (or at all) unless it's with the team.

Pushing to the back of your closet, you rifle through the longer dresses and gowns you own, before landing on a light green, silk number. It has a halter neckline that drapes loosely around your neck, and you haven't worn it since before Jeff died, because it always felt like too much.

But Emily messaged you after getting home with a photo of her dress too, and even though it may be a lot for a little neighborhood theater, you're excited about something for the first time in a long while.

After putting on the dress and doing your makeup a bit darker than usual, you grab your keys and head out.

He got to the theater a bit earlier than the rest of the team, mostly to apologize to Garcia and warn her about the onslaught of support she was going to be getting, but he also wanted to get there before you did, so he could save a seat for you beside him.

From an outsider's perspective, he imagines there wouldn't seem to be anything different or wrong with your relationship, but he has been feeling the frustrating tension between the two of you since that night out.

Speaking with Jess on Halloween felt like a welcome reprieve from his cycle of self-loathing, and he finally feels more free than he has in ages.

Emily, Derek, and Spencer arrive a short while later, and he points them toward the seats he booked out, before heading back to the lobby, where family and friends of the performers are milling around.

When Dave arrives, he's also dressed in a suit. "We certainly clean up nicely."

He coughs out a laugh. "I haven't pulled this suit out in years."

"Well, aside from the cobwebs," Dave jokes, brushing an imaginary piece of dust from his shoulder, "you look classy."

"Thanks," he smiles, patting the older man's arm. "You should head inside. We're sitting about halfway up."

"You coming?" Dave asks as he steps around him.

Aaron shakes his head, glancing back at the door again. "I'm going to wait for...everyone to get here. I'll meet you inside."

He nods, before smacking his shoulder once and walking into the theater. When Dave's out of sight, he turns back around and pulls his phone out, trying to look busy.

He scrolls through a couple of his latest emails before tucking his phone away. The front door of the theater opens then, and when he looks up, all of the air leaves his lungs.

It feels like the world is moving in slow motion as you glide inside, your dress billowing down as the breeze from outside settles. You look incredible, and he feels like a teenager again, when he was so in love with you he couldn't breathe.

He watches you glance around, clearly searching for a familiar face, so he walks up, approaching you slowly to give you time to notice him.

"Oh, hi!" you say, your lips curving up into a smile as he tucks a hand into his pocket. "Am I late?"

"Not at all," he says, hating how strained his voice sounds. "The play starts at the top of the hour."

"Perfect," you smile, removing your shawl from your shoulders and folding it in your hands. "You clean up well, by the way."

There's a slight tinge of humor in your voice, and you're looking at him expectantly, likely waiting for him to lead you to the seats, but he can't move. He's terrified of what he's feeling, but you look amazing, and he's surrounded by people he doesn't know, so he doesn't overthink it as he reaches out and slips a hand onto your waist.

You clearly aren't expecting it as he pulls you in closer, his fingers sliding across the silkiness of your dress. You smell like flowers, and he can't help himself as he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. "You're beautiful."

Reality doesn't set in until he lets you go. Your cheeks are slightly flushed and he can't think straight, but the moment you step away from him and head to theater doors, the fog clears.

What is he doing?

The rational part of his brain takes over and he mumbles a curse under his breath before jogging forward to follow you inside. At least for the time being, he has the play to cover himself, but when morning comes, and brings with it the harsh light of day, he's fucked.

***

His skin is burning. The temperature in his office feels like it has been turned all the way up, but even as he undoes his cufflinks and rolls his sleeves back, the heat doesn't abate.

He is loosening his tie when his office door opens, revealing you in your rumpled button down and slacks. He opens his mouth to ask why you're still here, but before he can get a word out, you're shutting the door behind you and locking it.

"What are you doing?" he asks as you saunter over to him, stepping around his desk and pressing your hands to the armrests of his chair. "Y/N, it's late-"

"Shut up," you say firmly, twisting his chair toward you with a strong pull. He moves to get up, but you push his shoulder down to keep him in his chair.

He already doesn't know what to say, but every thought leaves his brain as you sink down to your knees before him.

"Don't move," you whisper, your eyes glinting up at him as you deftly undo the buckle of his belt and yank his pants open. "I'm in charge now."

He lets out a gasp as you tug his pants down in one go, and before he can do anything, your fingers are on him. Your lips curve into a smile as his breath hitches, and even with the thin fabric of his boxers between you two, the sensations coursing through him feel so magnified and new.

He is already hard as a rock, and you've barely even touched him. Teasingly slow, you pull his boxers down, watching as his cock springs free from the confines. Without wasting another second, you run your tongue up his length, and he grits his teeth to keep the groans in his throat from spilling out.

Your lips slowly close around his tip and the wet heat makes his head fall back as he tries to calm his breathing down. His chest is heaving like he just went for a run, but when you hollow your cheeks around him, he can't keep the moan inside. He loses control for a moment as he reaches forward to grasp onto your hair, but that only seems to spur you on, as you bob your head even faster.

The wet sounds of your mouth sliding over his cock fill the office, and he clutches his armrest with one hand and uses the other to guide your head.

He's already so close, and the soft grip of your hands on his thighs aren't helping as he tries to hold off, to prolong this feeling. At the last second, you swirl your tongue around the tip, and he chokes out a gasp, but then-

His eyes fly open to the lonely darkness of his bedroom. The room is warmer than it usually is, and his skin feels sticky with sweat under his covers. His mind, on the other hand...

He doesn't remember every moment of the dream, but the message was clear enough. His boxers are still tight from the memory, and he tries as hard as he can to think about anything else, but he keeps going back to the image of you, in front of him, kneeling-

Throwing the covers off, he sits up quickly and climbs out of bed, needing to clear his head in the only effective way he knows of. He shrugs his clothes off on the way to the bathroom, and he turns the shower on, making the water steaming hot, before stepping inside. The steam fogs up the glass around him, but he can still see the bare outline of his shame in the mirror across from the shower.

But now isn't the time, not with his skin burning and his cock pulsing in his hand. He pumps a few times as the hot water cascades over him, trying to set a rhythm, but it doesn't feel right. He keeps nearing the edge before the wave pulls back, and he lets out a soft groan in frustration as he presses his forehead to the glass.

Just once, he thinks as he grips himself again, his mind shifting back to his dream. Only this once.

His brain fills with the images from earlier: you on your knees, your mouth warm and wet over him, the pinpricks of sweat across the swells of your chest where your shirt was unbuttoned. He pictures your mouth as he ruts into his own hand, pretending, wishing, it was you instead.

It only takes a few more pumps before he finishes, spilling onto the white floor of his shower. The energy leaves him as he slumps against the wall, twisting the knob to a cooler setting, before shutting it off completely.

He still has a few more hours of sleep left before he has to get up for work, but he spends all night tossing and turning in the wide, empty expanse of his bed.

***

"What do you think he meant?"

"Maybe it's like a new manual, or guidebook."

"What are you two on about?" You walk up to your desk and slump down into the chair as Emily and Spencer look up with meek smiles.

Spencer is the first to crack. "We were discussing what Hotch might have meant by a 'different tactic' to solve this case in New Mexico."

You frown. "The gated community one? I thought Dave was just flying over ahead of us to get a head start."

"Nope," Emily shakes her head, before turning around. "He's in Hotch's office right now."

You look up just as Aaron and Dave exit the office and begin their descent down the stairs. Dave is ahead of him, with a big smile on his face, as he pushes past all of you.

It's only after you turn around that you realize who he's looking at. The woman he pulls into a hug is young - Academy cadet young - and she's pretty too.

"Ashley!" Rossi exclaims as he lets her go.

Hotch walks up behind them and shakes her hand. "Agent trainee Seaver is on loan to us from the Academy."

He introduces her to each of you, and you reach forward to shake her hand, a big smile on your face. After he told you that the bureau was considering someone new, you have had your guard up, but you don't want to make a bad impression in case she's here to stay.

"It's great to meet all of you," she says with a meek smile.

You pat her shoulder before walking past her to speak with Aaron about whether Seaver was the the new addition he was talking about. But when you lift your hand to get his attention, he turns away without looking at you, and leads Rossi out of the bullpen.

In the New Mexico gated community where three women have been murdered so far, Emily and Derek split off to check out the last crime scene, so you stay with the rest of the team and Seaver at one of the model homes to go through the evidence.

You can't help but notice how Spencer's eyes keep flitting over to the new girl, and a grin crosses your lips as you nudge his shoulder later.

"You totally have a thing for the new girl."

"Wha-what, no?!" he sputters, his face twisting into an unconvincing frown. "I don't even know her."

You just shrug. "You can still think she's pretty."

"That's irrelevant," he mutters, nudging you back and grabbing one of the files in front of him. "Do you think we can trust the local police?"

"I don't know," you sigh, letting him change the subject. "We definitely can't rule them out, especially in a community as clustered as this."

You glance across the room to Aaron and Dave, who are standing hunched over a laptop with the local detective. They're brows are all equally furrowed, and Aaron looks so focused you doubt he would hear you if you yelled his name right now.

Dropping the file onto the counter, you step around Reid and walk over to the trio, listening in as they start speaking.

"You interviewed every adult male in the community?"

The detective nods. "More than once. They're all digitized."

Aaron glances up as you approach, but when he realizes who it is, his eyes dart back to the screen. His eyes meet yours for the briefest of seconds, and he sees a frown cross your face out of his periphery. Fuck. He has to be more careful. You're a fucking profiler, for god's sake.

"Were all the interviews confrontational like this?" you ask as you come up beside him. He can feel the warmth of your arm inches away from his, and he leans his weight to the other side, trying not to think about his dream while you're standing this close to him.

"Is that wrong?"

Rossi raises his eyebrow. "You didn't get much out of them, did you?"

The detective shakes his head before skipping to the next interview, and everyone leans in closer to get a better look. With four of you surrounding the screen, it's harder to see, and when you press your hand to his shoulder to balance yourself, he all but flinches back from your touch.

The movement is harsh enough that everyone but the detective notices. His eyes fly to you as shock and confusion cross your face, and before anyone can say anything, he mutters something that sounds like 'sorry' before rushing out of the model home.

You're chasing after him the moment he's out of sight. Dave reaches forward to catch your arm but you shake him off, rushing out of the house and onto the street, which has been cleared by the local police since you arrived.

"Aaron!" you call out as he walks ahead of you, his hand raking through his hair. To his credit, he comes to a stop the moment he hears your voice, and you catch up to him quickly, stopping just short of him on the sidewalk. "What is going on? I thought we were okay?"

His eyes close for a beat, before his face hardens into a steely calm. You can no longer pretend like everything's fine. It hasn't been for a long time - not since the bar, and maybe even before - but you've always been good at compartmentalizing what you don't want to feel. With your mom, and Jeff, and Haley, you could push down the hurt until it dissolved into your bloodstream, spreading everywhere. It wore you down and thinned you out, but at least it wasn't overwhelming.

Looking at him now - your best friend, the man you...love. Your breath catches in your throat and he shakes his head, not looking at you. "What do you mean, Y/N?"

You wish you could keep pretending, like he seems to be able to, but it's just not fair anymore. Not to him, and especially not to you. "No, don't do this. Don't act like I'm the only one who sees how wrong this has been for the last few months. I used to talk to you everyday, Aaron. We've barely spoken in weeks!"

His face cracks for a moment and you see the glimmer of pain in his eyes before the wall comes up again. "I don't know what you want me to say. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" you yell, your tone more forceful than you expect. "What are you sorry for, Aaron?"

He looks at you then, the facade falling away as your words sink in. The lines of pain and tension settle in and you're almost relieved that he's finally showing you the truth instead of hiding away what he's feeling. But then the despair returns as his lips thin into a line, unable to answer your question.

"What," you repeat, your words tinged with malice, "are you sorry for?"

He whispers your name softly, like it's an apology on it's own, before using his next words to tear you to pieces. "Don't make me say it."

A soft gasp leaves your mouth and you involuntarily take a step back, like he's slapped you in the face. He runs a hand over his neck and a sudden feverish anger rushes through you as you shake your head, blinking back tears. "Don't do that. I know it's not just me, Aaron. It's not-"

"Please," he whispers suddenly, cutting you off. "Please don't do this."

It's almost like he's begging you, and you jerk back, unable to look at him. Men have hurt you before, in so many ways, but nothing has ever cut deeper than this. You don't think your bullet wound hurt this much, and at least then you had him to support you. Now you're all alone.

The aching heartbreak hits you all at once and you brush a loose tear off your cheek before turning around and leaving him out on the sidewalk, watching you walk away.

***

"Something's up."

Penelope bumps Emily's shoulder to grab her attention. After a second, she looks up from her desk. "What was that?"

"Something," Penelope repeats, her eyes darting back and forth between you and Aaron, "is up. Y/N and Hotch haven't looked at each other in like four days. Earlier, she was talking to someone on the stairs and he literally walked out of his office and then back inside again."

Emily looks at her. "Are you sure you aren't reading into anything?"

Penelope shoots her a look that can only mean 'you're kidding, right?' "They're inseparable. Something must have happened in the last few weeks that we don't know about."

Before she can stop her, Penelope stands up and barrels over to you, with Emily on her heels like an owner who just dropped her dog's leash.

"Y/N!" Penelope calls out as she approaches you. You look up from your desk with a frown, before your face breaks into a forced smile that both of them can see through immediately. "We wanted to catch up."

You glance at Emily, who shrugs, earning a look of chagrin from the other agent.

"Okay, what do you want to talk about?" you ask, your forehead crinkling in a manner reminiscent of your boss.

Penelope pauses for a moment, like she's trying to think. "Uhh, I'm not sure. Maybe about...you and Hotch?"

"Subtle," Emily mutters under her breath as your face scrunches into a confused frown. "She just means that you two have seemed kind of off lately, and we were wondering if everything was okay."

You press your lips together, unsure of how to broach this topic, even with some of your closest friends. "It's nothing."

That pulls a frown from both of them, and you sigh, doubling down on your feigned nonchalance. "It's really nothing, guys. I just...can't see him right now."

You turn back to your work and Emily and Penelope share a look, twin realizations clicking in both of their minds. They rush back to Penelope's office, and Emily shuts the door behind them, before they both blurt out something that sounds like: "We all know what's going on here."

"We have to make him jealous," Emily agrees with a nod.

She pulls open her desk drawer and pulls out her address book. "I have just the thing."

***

"I messed up, Haley."

The ground is hard from the chilly December air, and he sits uncomfortably on the familiar granite bench before her grave. There is a bouquet of dried-up flowers leaning against her headstone, and he doesn't have to think too hard to figure out who they're from.

"I'm trying not to," he whispers, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets to warm them up, "but I keep messing up."

A cool breeze wafts over him and the rustle of the nearby trees feels like an acknowledgement. Like she's really listening.

"She hates me," he sighs, his chin dropping to his chest as he shuts his eyes. The wind picks up slightly, and it's like he can hear Haley's voice in his head. She doesn't hate you. She's hurt.

"I know." He runs a gloved hand over his face, the cold sending a small shiver through his body. "It's my fault. I just don't know what to do or how to fix it."

Her reply in his mind is almost immediate.Yes you do.

He shakes his head, feeling like an idiot for talking to himself, even though it's helping him work through his emotions. "I don't. I really don't."

For a few moments, all he can hear is the rustle of tree branches and the low whistle of the wind blowing around the headstones. You have to tell her how you feel.

His chest tightens and he lifts his face, letting the cold air sting his skin, like some kind of penance. "Don't you think I want to? Every time I look at her, I'm terrified it's going to come out, but I can't say it." He takes a deep breath as the words start to flow out. He hasn't said them out loud to anyone, but right here feels like the safest place to let them out. "I love her."

Three simple words and it's like a weight lifts off of his chest. He still doesn't have the answers, but at least he can admit it to himself. "I'm in love with her, Hales. The only person in this world that I love more is Jack."

He can practically see her smile as he glances down at her name etched in stone. Then what's the problem.

"I'm gonna fuck it up. I always do." The words come out before he has a chance to think, almost like they've been sitting on the tip of his tongue for ages. He looks down at the ground again, imagining her sitting in front of him. "I did with you."

This time, his mind doesn't have the answer for him. He's finally in a good place with his son, and with the addition of Seaver to the team, his work load has been marginally cut back, so he doesn't really have an excuse anymore. It's just his fear of losing one of the only good things in his life that keeps holding him back.

But you're already losing her.

It's his own voice berating him this time, instead of Haley's.

You're trying so hard to hold her at arm's length that you haven't even noticed that she has stopped pushing her way in.

The wind rushes over him and he looks at the headstone again, his eyes tracing over Haley's name one more time, before he stands up and walks back down the hill.

***

Dave's annual new year's eve party has always been a fairly large spectacle, but when Aaron leads Jack up his driveway that evening, the sheer number of (expensive) cars lined up outside is nearly staggering.

He knew it wouldn't just be the team here tonight, but he wasn't expecting the sheer scale of the party, especially while his mind has been so pre-occupied with the prospect of seeing you outside of work for the first time in weeks.

The front door is unlocked when they reach the top of the porch, so he carefully pushes it open and leads Jack inside. He's only an hour late, but the hallways are already crowded with groups milling around, having loud conversations with a drink in their hand.

He doesn't recognize anyone until he gets to the kitchen, where he sees the rest of the team (minus Dave) chatting around a small snack table.

"Y/N!" Jack shrieks when he sees you, letting go of his hand immediately and running forward. You turn at the sound of his voice, and your face breaks out into a wide smile as the boy barrels over and throws his arms around you.

"Jack-o-lantern!" you gush, lifting him up and hugging him, your eyes falling shut as you squeeze the boy tightly.

Any onlooker can tell that his son loves you. For a while after Haley's death, Jack was closed off to every female figure in his life - even Jess - but he never shied away from you.

I love you, a voice in the back of his mind whispers as you set Jack down and press a kiss to the top of his head. I love you I love you I love you.

After Dave returned from the back patio and whisked away Aaron and Jack to meet some of his other friends, you loitered around the kitchen for a while, chatting with Derek and Spencer about their resolutions for the new year.

You're refilling your glass with some diluted punch when JJ and Emily sneak up behind you with matching mischievous expressions.

"What did you guys do?" you ask, gulping back some punch in preparation for whatever they're about to spring on you.

"There's someone we want you to meet," Emily grins as she reaches forward to loop her arm through yours.

"Oh, no way," you say, already shaking your head before they can elaborate. "You are not setting me up with some random bureau guy again."

"That was only one time," JJ pouts, before beckoning to the hallway across from the kitchen. You glance over her shoulder and spot Will standing with a man you've never seen before. "I had Will bring one of his single friends tonight. He's an architect, and he's super smart and super cute. Totally your type."

You raise an eyebrow as you inspect the man from across the room. He's definitely easy on the eyes, but he's also not your type. There's only one man who fits into that box.

"I don't know," you sigh, setting your glass down on the table behind you. "It's very sudden."

"C'mon," Emily urges, her eyes glinting with amusement. "It'll be good. Just talk and flirt a little, and if you're into it then you have a new year's kiss locked up!"

Kissing someone you just met in front of all of your colleagues sounds like nightmare fuel, but you can't think of another way to get your friends off your back. "Okay, fine, I'll meet him."

After leaving Jack with Henry and the other children, he heads back into the main section of the house, hoping to run into you. He doesn't know what he would say if he does, but anything is better than the avoidance game you've been playing.

He sees Penelope and JJ first, but you're not with them, so he continues forward, deftly stepping around throngs of people conversing in little pockets around the house.

"Hotch, over here!"

He whips around to find Derek, Will, and Dave waving him over to join them in the kitchen. He grabs a piece of cheese off a platter on his way over, and Derek pats him on the back when he reaches the three of them.

They return to their prior topic of conversation, and he tunes them out as his eyes dart around the room, still looking for you. He's about to give up when he spots the familiar hue of your hair down the hall. His lips curve up in a small smile as he watches you lean your head back with a big laugh that he swears he can hear even from all the way over here. He's about to excuse himself from the guys when a hand reaches out to gently touch your forearm, and you don't shake it off.

It's only then that he notices the man you're talking to, and how enamored he looks as you burst into another bout of laughter. Something that feels like ice settles in the pit of his stomach and he turns back to the guys just as they notice what he's been looking at.

"They seem to be hitting it off," Will grins, crossing his arms over his chest. "My friend's a good guy, and he mentioned wanting to meet her after they crossed paths at one of me and JJ's dinner parties."

He notices Dave glance at him out of the corner of his eye, but he can't bear to look at the older man, for fear that he'll give something away. Aaron feels the nauseating pit of jealousy in his stomach, but it's not fair. He pushed you away.

He turns away from you and tries to focus on literally anything else, but it's not long before he's unable to fight the urge to look at you from his spot in the kitchen. You can't see him watching you, and it gives him the obscurity he needs to observe you from afar, but it also makes it much more conspicuous to his friends.

You don't leave the company of Will's friend until much later in the night, and soon it's almost midnight. The countdown starts as everyone in the house lifts their glasses and latches onto their significant others.

"Ten, nine, eight..."

He's turning before he knows what he's doing. He can't help it, it's almost magnetic, the pull you have on him.

You're not looking at him, and he can only see your side profile as you glance up at the clock as it ticks down.

"Five, four, three, two..."

He turns away at the last second, unable to stomach the thought of you kissing someone else, but when the crowd erupts into cheers, he looks back to find that you're gone. His heart rates spikes and he pushes through people, ignoring the pats on his back as people wish him a "Happy new year".

He eventually spots you through the back windows, and he steps out into the frigid air to accompany you on the back porch steps. You're sitting on the top step, your bare arms wrapped around your body for some semblance of warmth, and for a moment, he can't move.

He can't decide if he should go to you or let you have the space you so clearly wanted, but then a voice in the back of his skull yells at him through all the noise. She's your best friend in the world. A few months ago, the answer would have been obvious.

A switch flips and he steps forward, sliding off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders. You let out a soft sigh as he sinks down next to you, and he watches as your eyes glisten in the lamplight.

You don't look at him as you press your elbows into your knees and rub a hand over your neck. "How did this get so fucked up?"

He sighs too, a heavy sound. "I don't know."

He's still looking at you, at the tears in your eyes, when you finally take a deep breath and turn to face him. A tear slips down your cheek and his brain fires off sparks again. I love you, I love you, I love you.

He wants to say it so badly, but then the newest factor in all of his confusion jumps back into the forefront. The Pakistan assignment. He has been trying to push it off, but he's getting so much pressure from the brass, and that's just one more thing he's hiding from you.

He breaks your eye contact and you let out a slow breath, almost like you felt him lose his nerve in real time. Without another word, you wipe the tears from your face and stand up, leaving him out in the cold once again.

***

The bureau gives you a week off at the start of the new year, but you can't enjoy any of your alone time. Every second you let your mind wander, your thoughts are invaded by the look on his face as he turned away from you.

You had seen it in his eyes out there, in the freezing cold air as the clock struck midnight. At least a small part of him felt for you the same way you felt for him. But it's not enough.

You've been alone for so many years. When you married Jeff, you were done. You didn't think you'd have to ever feel this kind of heartbreak again, but now that you feel that kind of love again, you refuse to settle for anything less than what you deserve. And what you deserve is someone who can show you how he feels.

Nevertheless, you can't control your subconscious.

That's why you're laying in bed at the end of the week, staring at your nightlight across the room and somehow managing to simultaneously miss him and hate him. It's well past midnight and you can't sleep, but you don't want to give in to the urge that's been tugging at your gut all night.

You're so angry with him, but he's also the only person you want to talk to when you're feeling anything you can't explain. It only takes another minute before you're giving in and snatching your phone off your bedside table.

It rings for a long time before he finally answers.

He whispers your name softly, his voice gravelly as though he just woke up. He sounds confused, but it has to mean something that he answered his phone at this hour.

"Are you okay?" Aaron asks, his voice still a bit gruff from the tiredness. "What's wrong?"

I miss you, you want to say. Instead, you panic and ask the first question that pops into your head: "Why do you think The Beatles broke up?"

The line goes silent for a moment before he sighs quietly. "Everyone blames Yoko but you know I think they just stopped working well together creatively."

"It was probably Lennon deciding to leave the band," you say, unsure where you're going with this. "Yeah, that makes the most sense."

"Maybe," he says, his voice a low hum.

There's no tinge of impatience or irritation in his tone, but you still feel awful for waking him up in the early hours of the morning to chat about a band.

You take a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself for what you're about to say, but the breath catches in your throat as a small sob escapes. "I'm so mad at you."

There's a pause on the other end of the line, before Aaron exhales sharply. "I know."

Your resolve fades almost immediately and you sink back into your pillows. "I'm not mad at you." He quietly huffs out a laugh, but you can tell his heart isn't in it. "I'm hurt, and yeah, I'm kind of mad at you, but the only person I want to talk to is you."

You can hear his breath stutter over the speaker, and he rears up to say something, before thinking better of it. "It's late, Y/N. You should go to bed."

"Yeah," you say eventually, rubbing tears of frustration from your eyes. "I'm sorry, yeah."

"No," he says quickly, his voice hurried as though he's afraid you'll hang up. "Don't apologize. I'm glad you called."

Your heart flutters pathetically. "Okay."

"Why were you up anyway?" he asks after a moment.

You shrug, even though he can't see you, wiping away the last remnants of your tears. "Couldn't sleep."

Something that sounds like a quiet chuckle floats into your ears. "Try turning off that massive nightlight."

Your eyes widen and you inadvertently glance over at the beacon of light plugged in across the room. "What nightlight?"

He hums again. "Goodnight, Y/N." I love you.

"Goodnight, Aaron." I love you too.

***

It started when Emily arrived late to the briefing. She was never late, so that itself was enough to set off your alarms, but then you noticed her fingers. She's biting her nails again.

Aaron finishes briefing you all about the two families murdered in house fires in the DC area, before you disperse and head back to your desks to read up about the evidence.

When you drop your bag down and sink into your chair, you don't miss how Spencer visibly flinches in his seat, his eyes twitching with exhaustion.

"Sorry, Spence," you say earnestly, turning to him with an anxious look. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," he answers quickly, his eyes darting back down to the case file. "I'm... I'm...I'm sure these victims overlap somehow. Garcia pulled their phone numbers, but so far I can't find anything."

You've been working with him long enough to notice when he's deflecting, especially when he's doing such a bad job of it. "Spencer, you just jumped."

He takes a deep breath and you're suddenly grateful that his shorter haircut allows you to get a better view of his expression, even with his head down. "I've been having these really intense headaches lately." "Have you seen a doctor?" you ask, sliding your chair in to get a better look at him. "Yeah, a few. None of them have been able to figure it out." "I'm sorry," you say genuinely as guilt and shame flood your veins. You've been so preoccupied with your own drama that you haven't been paying any attention to your friends. First Emily, and now Spencer. "Does anyone know?"

His lips press into an adorable line. "You." "I won't tell anyone," you assure him, your eyebrows scrunching down. "I'm glad you're telling me now." "I know," he nods. "I just didn't want you to worry."

"I won't make a big deal out of it," you tell him, your lips curving up in a playful smile, "if that's what you were worried about."

"Thanks," he mutters, but you can tell his heart isn't really in it.

It's been so long since you sat down and caught up with your teammates, and given how weird Emily has been acting, you figure it's about time.

"Have you noticed anything off with Emily?"

It's Penelope who comes to you first about the change in your teammate's disposition. You had clocked the small jab Emily had thrown at her after the briefing, but didn't want to intrude in case it was personal. You're starting to realize it might be a lot more personal than you originally thought.

"I have," you say simply, glancing back at her across the bullpen. Her head is down and her shoulders are hunched forward as she quickly types something out on her phone.

She waits for another moment before jolting upright and standing up. Before either of you can get a chance to ask what's wrong, she is jetting off to the bathroom.

"I got this one," you tell Penelope before strutting off to follow her.

She's looking at her phone again when the bathroom door shuts behind you, and you approach her slowly so as not to spook her. "Hey, I just wanted to check up on you. You sped out of there."

"I'm fine," she says, trying to brush away your worry with a wave of her hand.

You frown, taking a step forward. "Are you sure? I noticed you've been biting your-"

"Don't profile me, Y/N," she snaps, her head turning to level you with a glare that would have scared the shit out of you if you didn't know her so well. It doesn't last long though, and before you can get another word out, she's already apologizing. "I'm sorry. I-I'm gonna be alright. I promise. I'm just having this nightmare."

She details her dream to you, and the profiler in you can't help but relate it to her own lack of trust, but then she looks at you with a genuine smile and you just have to smile back.

"Somehow, you.." she pauses for a beat. "You always make me feel better. I don't think I've ever thanked you for that."

Her words feel so final, like she's saying goodbye, and a bolt of terror shoots through you before you decide you're being dramatic.

She's your friend. She's gonna be alright.

Emily's gone. She slipped out during Aaron's multi-agency task force briefing, and none of you noticed.

How could you not have noticed?

You're kicking yourself as Spencer pulls out a sheet of paper from one of Emily's contacts, with a list of undercover names all with the initials L.R.

"Prentiss is the last name on the list," Rossi deduces as you mentally check back into the conversation. Your eyes scan the board with the name 'Lauren Reynolds' written at the top. "That means she's on Doyle's list too."

"Guys," Aaron calls out from Emily's desk, holding up her things in his hands, "she left her badge and gun."

"Why would she do that?" Penelope asks, her voice small like a child's. "We're her family."

That's when you finally find your voice. "She ran to protect us." You turn to Aaron then, your eyes flashing over his like it's the first time you've ever really looked at him. "How do we find her?"

"We need to profile their behavior," he instructs, moving to the front board. "Doyle is our unsub and Prentiss is our victim. We treat it like any other case."

There's the small sound of a door opening and Aaron looks up, beckoning his chin to the back. "Because terrorism isn't an area we specialize in, I've reached out to an expert from the State Department...someone who can also shed light on Prentiss' past."

You whip around to the sight of a familiar head of blonde hair walking into the briefing room. The tension in your shoulders abates for a split second as gratitude cascades over you. God, you missed her.

JJ saunters forward and nods at each of you, her expression already rigid with concentration. "Let's get to work."

Profiling Emily takes you all to Boston, where the evidence from the previous victims adds up to the conclusion that Doyle is a family annihilator. When you also find out that he has a secret son, you and Derek lead the team to the warehouse where the son was last taken, in the hopes that Emily would have made the same connection.

The sound of a loud crash sends you running, but Derek is faster and he gets there before you. You enter the back room to find Emily bleeding out on the floor, a large wooden post stuck through her abdomen.

"I got her!" he yells into his comms before pressing his hands onto her wound. "Prentiss. It's me, I'm right here."

She mumbles something that sounds like his name and your chest floods with relief. You step out of the room to call for a medic, but when you get back, she isn't moving.

"Emily!" Derek yells as you sink to your knees beside him. Your pants are wet with her blood, and it feels like ice against your skin. How can there be so much blood in the human body?

"Come on," he pleads, tightening his grip on her hand. "Stay with me!"

"Emily, please," you whisper, your throat hoarse from the unshed tears. You press your fingers to her pulse. "Please."

The medics come eventually, and she is taken to the hospital, where the whole team is holed up in the waiting room. Spencer hasn't stopped pacing since she was taken into surgery and you can't seem to take your face out of your hands, even as people press comforting pats on your shoulders.

You don't notice anything going on around you until JJ comes back from speaking with the doctor with tears in her eyes. No, oh god no.

You barely register her words as she whispers, "She never made it off the table."

It's only then that you stand up. You're not sure what you're planning to do, but as soon as you try to move, your legs start shaking, like you're slipping in quicksand. Aaron steps towards you just as your body gives out and you collapse onto him, quiet sobs bubbling out of your throat.

"She was just here," you cry into his chest while you clutch his shirt as though your life depends on it. "How can she be gone?"

His hands rub comforting circles into your back as his arms tighten around you, keeping you upright, and you can't help but imagine that this picture looks vaguely reminiscent of his home last year when you held him up as he broke down.

Emily's gone.

You can't even remember why you were so angry with him before. Everything outside of this moment feels so trivial, like you've been wasting so much time. You need him now, and you're so thankful he's here to hold you up even though his pain is just as big as yours.

Aaron wraps himself tighter around you, fighting the tears that are rushing forward, because they just aren't fair. His whole team is falling apart in front of him, and he's one of two people here who knows the truth.

You choke out another sob and he tugs you upward, helping you stand again as you wipe the tears from your face. Out of the corner of his periphery, he sees JJ pull Spencer into a hug, and she meets his eye over the younger agent's shoulder. So much pain.

"What are we supposed to do now?" you ask suddenly, your voice so small he's sure he's the only person who can hear you. "How are we supposed to keep going?"

The familiar echoing emptiness of guilt swallows him whole and he sucks in a sharp breath in a futile effort to keep himself from drowning. Your glistening eyes are so wide with despair, and he pulls you back into his arms, mostly for comfort, but also because he can't stand to see you in pain for much longer. When he finally finds his voice, all that comes out is, "I don't know."

***

You can barely remember the funeral.

When you try to think about it, there are flashes of white gloves and red roses and rough, brown dirt, but the only thing that really sticks out is the pressure of Aaron's hand over yours as you stood in front of her casket while they lowered her into the ground.

So many funerals, so many gravestones. The eery familiarity that has made you numb to the loss, even as it threatens to tear you apart each time you let yourself think about her.

It has become a regular passage in the story of your life: meet someone new, learn to love again, and then lose them.

Tears prick your eyes as you settle into the stiff wooden chair in your kitchen. The team has been organizing impromptu get-togethers all month, mostly at the last minute and usually late at night. That's when the loneliness hits the hardest.

You figure you should be used to it by now. Deep down, you know it's not something anyone ever gets used to, but believing that the pain will abate is easier than realizing it'll always be there, buried in your bones.

The pain of your mother's death is still a phantom bruise under your skin, always there, but never at the forefront until you press hard enough. Losing Jeff was a whole other monster, hiding under your bed and within the confines of your mind, ready to pounce the moment you closed your eyes. Haley, on the other hand, was a fresh wound; sometimes, you still aren't sure that the gash has fully closed, but with time it has gotten easier to pretend that things aren't awful all the time.

You wipe a loose tear from your cheek as you check your phone messages and tidy up some of the plates from your table. Aaron came over last night, and you both sat in silence for a long time, until a photo of Emily on your computer brought you to tears again. He held you for hours as you shook in his arms, trying to keep yourself together, but ultimately failing.

The silver lining of his renewed presence in your life doesn't feel as sweet as it should, given the circumstances, but you'll take any win you can get. If nothing else, you missed the feel of his arms around you.

You flinch as the dishes clink together loudly when you set them in the sink, and you watch the water dribble from the faucet for a long time, pretending that all you see isn't her blood.

***

He doesn't know what to do. He wants to be there for you more than anything else in this world, but seeing you break down is like being stabbed all over again, only this time it's his own fault.

When you called last night, he couldn't stay away. He misses you like he's missing a limb, and even if he wanted to stop himself from seeing you, he knows he couldn't. Your grief has brought you back to him, but it feels wretched, even as he shoves aside his guilt for an evening to comfort you at this low.

He had lost count of the number of work-related things he had kept from Haley when they were married, but he always had the excuse that she didn't need to know. That her life would be better without the knowledge of all the horrors that circled them everyday.

He doesn't have the same excuse with you. You are well-acquainted with the tragedies that life brings, and if it was up to him, he would spill every secret he has ever hidden, because he loves you, and you're one of the last people in this world who still trusts him, and he's so scared that after this, he'll lose that too.

But he keeps his mouth shut. And when Garcia invites him to a get-together at your place, he politely declines, because if he knows you all have each other, then he can take one night off from the debilitating guilt he somehow still hasn't learned to shoulder after all these years.

***

"Come on in."

Spencer, Derek, and Penelope shuffle into your house, handing you bottles of wine and bags of assorted snacks, before plopping down on your couch and making themselves at home. They've been over so many times in the last few weeks that you figure it basically is their second home at this point, not that you mind.

None of you want to be alone, and that's why it works.

"What are we watching tonight?" Derek asks, his voice nonchalant, like it's just another movie night with your colleagues. He always starts the night acting like everything's fine, and it really irked you the first time he came over, until you realized it was a front that he just needed time to shed. "Didn't you say last time that you have the original Jaws DVD?"

"What if we watched The Empire Strike Back?" Spencer asks timidly from under a slew of blankets that Penelope has covered both of them with. His nightly ritual involves suggesting one of his favorite movies, even though it always gets immediately shot down.

Derek chuffs, snagging some of the blanket from off your lap. "Maybe another night, kid."

"I don't care what we watch," Penelope sighs as she pulls open a bag of popcorn and chucks a handful into her mouth, "as long as it isn't sad." That's her only request. Nothing sad, please. Your nightly ritual is like a practiced dance. Each of you playing your parts, reciting your lines the same way, keeping it familiar. Establishing a routine.

You stand up, taking your cue, and grab a random DVD from your cabinet. Ten minutes later, you're all watching The Empire Strikes Back, and Spencer cracks something that looks like a smile for the first time since before the funeral.

You watch the movie in silence, and when the credits roll, you watch the names scroll over the screen as you muster up the energy to find the remote. When you finally click the TV off, the silence feels suffocating, and you hear Penelope sniffle from next to you.

Throwing your arm around her shoulder, you all squish yourselves together, like the pressure will keep the emotions in.

After a long pause, Spencer is the first to speak. "It'll get better, right?"

"It has to," Derek sighs, his chin falling to his chest as he takes in a deep breath. You know him well enough to be able to translate his exasperation into anguish, even as he tries to hide it.

"It will get better." You glance around the couch at your friends - the people who have been here for you through all of it - and nod your head, choosing this moment to really believe it. "It will."

***

It doesn't.

A week later, you are storming into Aaron's apartment after he dropped Jack off to stay with Jess, your words already pouring out even before he can shut the door behind you.

"How could you take the assignment?"

Your tone is laced with malice, but he can still hear the hurt underneath.

"How could you leave us here after everything that happened?"

This time the pain is clearer. Your voice breaks at the end and he steps forward to do something, but you twist your body away.

His hands fall hopelessly back to his sides and he doesn't know how to explain this to you, when he can't even explain it to himself.

"Strauss left your brief in the conference room." Your words are stronger now, and he looks up, his eyes squinting with anticipation. "You've known about this since before the new year."

You're right. He's known about the prospect of this assignment for almost a year, and then after, when it became a real possibility, he still chose not to tell you. Maybe before, he had the excuse that you weren't speaking to him, but after Emily...he doesn't have a leg to stand on.

"Why wouldn't you tell us?" you ask, the anguish coming forward in full force. "We need you here. Jack needs you. I need you."

He needs you too. But he also needs to stop hurting you. And he can't see that happening while he's still here.

"I'm sorry," he whispers softly. I love you, I'm sorry.

You let out a sigh and your shoulders fall, like you've lost all of the fight within you. You look so defeated, and it feels worse than when you were yelling at him.

You're right here, but you feel so far away, like he's looking at you through tinted glass.

"Fine," you say after a beat. "Call me when you're leaving."

Your shoulder brushes his as you whip past him, and he doesn't muster up the courage to speak again until you're already gone.

***

The call comes soon. Too soon.

You meet him at his apartment, and Jack immediately gives you a hug before latching himself back onto his father. You don't know what Aaron told him, given how you don't even know how long he's going to be gone, but you can't imagine it was helpful to a six year old boy who only understands that his father is leaving for a long time.

"I called Jess to pick him up," Aaron explains in a hushed whisper as Jack runs out to get his shoes, "but she's busy until the afternoon."

"That's okay," you say, crossing your arms in front of you. It's a defensive maneuver that's about all you can muster up right now. "I can drop him off at her house after we get you out of here."

You try to say it lightly, but your tone sharpens at the end, making him flinch. You sigh, an apology in itself, because you're trying so hard to be supportive. You know you're mad at him - no matter how hard you try not to be - but this isn't the time to show your anger.

Jack comes back into the living room, and you usher the young boy out the door as Aaron lugs his duffel bags behind you and out to the car. The drive is mostly silent, and Jack doesn't say a word until you help him out of his carseat and onto the tarmac at the base.

"I'm gonna miss you, Daddy," he whispers, his little hands reaching up to grab his father's hand. "Come home soon."

Aaron picks him up and squeezes him in a big hug, before setting him back down on the ground. He looks at you then and you shrug, pressing your lips together. "What he said."

"I don't know how long this is going to take," he says, mostly directing his words at Jack, even though he keeps glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. "Probably a few months though."

A few months. That shouldn't feel as long as it does.

"Bye buddy," he says then, kneeling down to hug his son again. "Go sit in Y/N's car so I can talk to her about some grown up stuff for a minute."

Jack bounces back to where your car is parked, and you watch him get in before turning back to look at Aaron. There's a resoluteness in his expression that shouldn't surprise you, given how driven he is by his sense of duty, but it still catches you off guard.

"You'll be okay there?" you ask, needing to get that out of the way before the rest of it.

He nods, before inching his hand forward to brush against yours. It's a small gesture, but you're not ready yet.

"I'm still angry," you whisper, pulling your hand back slightly. "I don't want to be, because you're leaving, and I want you to have a clear head out there, but I can't help it."

"It's okay," he says softly, his brow furrowing.

"No," you sigh, shaking your head. Your throat is thickening with the threat of tears and you don't want to cry in front of him now either, but there are too many emotions swirling around your brain to keep any of them straight. "I'm not really mad, okay. I know you're trying to do the right thing, but she's gone, and the team is not okay right now, and I need to find a way to handle it on my own."

I can't do it by myself, you want to say. I'm in love with you and you're making it seem so easy to leave me here to shoulder the burden of everyone's grief.

"I'm sorry," he says again, his voice softer this time.

You're so much better than me, he thinks as he watches you stand so stoically before him. I love you and I can't bear to see you in pain when I'm part of the reason why.

"It's okay," you repeat after a beat. Then you reach forward and take his hand, like he tried to do earlier. His hand is warm and calloused, and it feels rough against your palm, but it grounds you, tethering you to this moment. "I'll see you when you get back."

He nods, before pulling you forward gently into a hug. Your chin tilts up to sit on his shoulder and he squeezes you to him once before letting you go.

When he lifts his bags and walks toward the loading ramp, Jack leaps out of the car and grabs your hand as you both wave goodbye.

He flashes you both one last smile before waving back and disappearing into the plane.

***

The first month is the easiest. You let the futile anger take over; let yourself pretend that you don't actually miss him.

Seeing Jack and Jess makes it less painful, and you slowly find yourself spending more time with them than at home. Jess tries to spend time with Jack at Aaron's apartment to help him maintain a stable environment, but with his father gone, it doesn't help you notice the absence less.

"He's not eating as much," Jess mentions to you one night after she puts him to bed and joins you out in the living room. At first, being at his place without him felt intrusive, but you've gotten used to being there. "He was picking at his food all through dinner."

"I noticed that," you agree as you pat the spot beside you on the couch. "I'm sure it's just a picky eating phase. Once he settles back into a routine with you it should be fine."

"With us," she corrects with a small smile. "I need all the help I can get, and I really appreciate you being here so often."

"Oh, honey, of course." You give her forearm a squeeze before grabbing both of your empty glasses from the table and taking them to the sink. "I was worried I was becoming more of a burden on you by being here so much, but I'm glad it's welcome company."

"Always," she says, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. You set the glasses down and turn back to see her staring at the tiny picture frame of her and Haley on her counter. "She always made it look so easy."

You nod, not wanting to interrupt her moment. After a beat, Jess releases a heavy sigh and shakes her head. "She was the perfect mother. If I can be half as good of a caretaker for Jack as she was, I'll know I'm doing something right."

You smile unconsciously, remembering a moment from years ago. "I swear Aaron said the exact same thing once. He was upset about leaving work late again when they first had Jack, and I had to assure him that he wouldn't miss every childhood milestone just because he had to work late once in a while."

He was so terrified of being anything like his father. You tried your best to show him how impossible that was, but those are the kinds of things people have to learn on their own.

Jess looks down, deep in thought, and your phone chimes then with a new message. It's from Derek: Hotch sat phone call, 15 mins

"Jess," you whisper, getting her attention again. "Aaron is scheduled to call us over the satellite phone in a little bit. I'm gonna go into the office to see if I can talk to him. Is there anything you want me to tell him?"

She thinks for a moment before shaking her head. "Just that Jack and I are doing well. And we miss him."

You nod and press a kiss to her cheek before grabbing your coat and driving over to the field office. The sky is dark by the time you arrive, and it feels foreign to walk into an empty bullpen. The team has shrunk so much since he left, and lately it's just been you, Spencer, Derek, Rossi, and Penelope around here.

You knock on Aaron's office door once before stepping inside.

"Sounds good," Derek is saying as you shut the door behind you. "Yeah, keep us updated." He sees you then and beckons you closer before turning back to the phone. "Y/N's here. I'll hand it to her."

You take the phone from him and tentatively press it to your ear. There's a slight buzzing sound and when he says "Hello?", his voice sounds far away.

"Hi," you say softly, turning your back to Derek for some semblance of privacy, but he has already pulled out his phone and started typing something. "How are you?"

"I'm okay," he says, sounding slightly distracted. "It's really busy over here. How are yo- you all doing? Jack and Jessica?"

"They're good," you tell him, hoping he can't hear the tightness in your voice over hearing his for the first time in weeks. "They really miss you. We all do."

"I miss you guys too."

You hear some muffled voices on the other end of the line, and you jump in with your questions before he gets called away. "Any updates I can ask about? Like when you'll be done."

"Not right now," he says with a sigh. "It's still need-to-know."

"Right," you whisper rigidly, even though it's not fair. He's trying his best, and he's doing what's right, but you keep punishing him. Because of your own feelings, your brain adds at the end.

"It's protocol," he says, even though you're both well aware of how this works.

"I know," you sigh, your fingers gripping the phone tightly. "I have to go back to Jess's."

"Y/N, wait-" he starts, but you are already handing the phone back to Derek.

He takes it uncertainly, but you just shake your head and exit the office.

***

"Did you watch the other movie I gave you?"

You whip your head around to look at Spencer, who is looking at you intently. You had been staring at Aaron's office door for the better part of the last hour.

You frown apologetically. "Not yet, Spence." He had loaned you his DVD of one of his favorite Star Wars movies, and each time you tried watching it, you were just reminded of the immediate aftermath of losing Emily. "I'll find time soon, though."

"That's okay," he shrugs as you inadvertently glance up at the door again. "I know it isn't everyone's thing. I just thought you seemed to enjoy the one we watched at the movie night."

"I did," you assure him, reaching out to pat his hand. "I promise I just haven't found time yet."

He smiles at you, and you return it before your eyes dart up to Aaron's office door at the sight of movement. A small, unrealistic part of you expects Aaron to emerge, but it's Derek instead. Derek took over his office a month after he left to Pakistan, because the secure line was already set up.

"He has a lot on his plate these days," Spencer says, drawing your attention back. He's watching Derek speak to someone at the top of the stairs, his forehead crinkled with stress.

"We're down quite a few hands," you nod, pursing your lips. "Maybe we can convince Derek to bring JJ back permanently."

Spencer lights up and you can't help but grin too. "We definitely should."

***

The cases start piling up, and you welcome the distraction as the passing months begin to weigh on you. The whole team has been under a lot of pressure from the brass, and Strauss has been hinting at a prolonged assignment in Pakistan that may take up even more of his time.

After a particularly grisly case, you invite Penelope over to unwind with some wine and chatting. It doesn't escape your notice that you're missing half of your usual girls' night attendees, but you keep the wine flowing, and soon you aren't focusing on anything other than the new guy Penelope met at her grocery store.

"He's so sweet," she gushes as she leans over the table to grab another chip. You're both sitting on the floor of your living room, and you reach out hastily to steady her glass as it gets precariously close to spilling over. "And I think it says a lot that he shops at such a high quality grocery store."

"Oh, absolutely," you nod, lifting your own glass in a mock salute. "You can tell a lot about a man by how he eats."

"Tell me about it," she sighs, her words starting to slur. Maybe opening the second bottle was too much. "I once dated a guy who only ate protein bars and steak."

Your face twists in disgust, and you set your glass down, feeling the rush of tipsiness hit you. "That's definitely not a balanced diet."

"I tried to tell him," Penelope says, before her face falls into a sad frown. "I really tried."

"Okay, okay," you say, trying to change the subject as her eyes fill with drunk tears. "Back to the grocery store man."

Her face breaks into a wide smile comically fast and you let out a high laugh. "He's so sweet. He really is just the sweetest guy."

"So I've heard," you grin, taking another sip of wine.

Turns out your last glass was one too many, because an hour later, after sending Penelope off in a cab and clearing away your dishes, you're still feeling the buzz from earlier.

Your face feels comfortably warm and you grab your phone from the counter, with the intention to call Emily, when you suddenly remember-

Your smile falls in an instant and tears are rushing forward before you can clearly form a coherent thought. You drop the phone and rush upstairs to take a hot shower to wind down and calm yourself, but even as the burning water washes over you, you still feel wound tight, like your emotions are trapped inside of you.

She was the first person you would always call after a tipsy night, and now she's gone.

Everybody's gone.

JJ, Emily, Aaron. Aaron.

A sob chokes out and you press your hand over your mouth, your body caving forward under the billowing steam fogging up the glass. You miss him so much, it's like you're not even yourself anymore.

You let out another soft sob as the water begins to calm you down, but you can still feel the echoing hollowness inside of you. You wish he was here, holding you, telling you it would all be okay. That you didn't ruin everything by pushing too hard, too fast. That you love him and he loves you, and it can all be perfect again.

"It'll be okay," his voice whispers from behind you, and suddenly he's there. Not really, but with your eyes closed and your mind still foggy, it almost feels real. "I'm sorry I left. I should've been here."

"You should be," you gasp out as his arms close around you from behind, holding you tightly under the soothing warmth of the water. "You left me."

"I know," he says, his breath tingling the sensitive spot behind your ear. "I'll never leave again. I promise."

"You promise," you whisper, mostly to yourself, as you turn around. His lips glide over your shoulder and up your neck, and suddenly his mouth is on yours.

You gasp as his hands slide down your body, his fingers gently caressing the sides of your breasts as he makes his way to your waist. His lips are so soft against yours and when his tongue runs along the seam of your mouth, you moan loudly, letting him swallow up the sounds.

He feels so real under your hands as you trace the jagged scars along his abdomen, and when his tongue glides down your-

You sit up with a gasp, your head pounding with the beginnings of an oncoming wine hangover. Your sheets are messily strewn around you, and your skin is sticky with sweat, but you can't bring yourself to get up. You take a large gulp of water from the glass on your nightstand and check the time: 3:02 AM.

Falling back with a huff, you run a hand over your face and fruitlessly try to sleep through the rest of the night.

***

Summer brings its own set of struggles.

The heat makes each case feel ten times longer than it already is, and with September fast approaching, Jack gets more and more antsy about starting school for the first time.

"He's been shut in his room all day," Jess sighs over the line as you make yourself coffee with your phone pressed between your shoulder and ear. "I think he's sad that he's starting school without either of his parents here."

Your heart breaks as you imagine Jack alone in his room, waiting and wishing for his dad to come back in time for his first day of school. Then an idea pops into your head.

"I think I know what to do."

An hour later, you, Jess, and Jack are waiting in line, under the beating sun, to get into the Smithsonian's zoo. Even tho you can already feel the sweat starting to drip down your back, Jack looks downright giddy, so you take the win.

When you finally get inside, he makes a beeline for the monkey exhibits, and you and Jess meander along behind him, chatting about her new side gig.

"I'm starting the part-time job in the fall," she explains as you stop behind Jack at the front of the chimpanzee enclosure. "It works out with the start of the school year, in case Aaron is gone for a while longer."

"That sounds great," you smile, giving her a small side squeeze. "You deserve something to take your mind off of everything too."

She shrugs, ever the neutral party, before looking at you with a smirk. "I hear there are some changes happening at the BAU as well?"

"Right!" you grin, following Jack to the next exhibit. "JJ was helping out temporarily, but she's officially back on the team. She also mentioned to me that she might be considering enrolling in profiler training so she can be a full-time field agent."

"Good for her," Jess smiles. "Lord knows you guys could use some extra manpower right now."

It's right then that your phone chirps with a text from Derek saying that Aaron is calling in again this afternoon. The urge to speak to him for the first time in weeks tugs at your gut, but then you glance over at Jack, who looks happy for the first time in just as long, and before you know it, you're typing back your response: Not today. Busy with Jack.

***

The next time Aaron calls in, you don't have an excuse.

You're at work, scribbling out the last few lines of your latest case report, when Derek tries to call you into his office. You haven't spoken to him in over a month, and he's asked for you each time he called, but still you refuse.

"Y/N, come on," Derek chuffs, running a hand over his face. "You know he wants to talk to you. He's by himself over there."

That's what gets you. By himself. As though you aren't alone too. As though you hadn't been completely fucking alone when, over the weekend, you found a pair of socks Emily must have forgotten at your place months ago, and had a full body breakdown on the floor of our foyer.

Each time you're close to forgetting that he left you here to fend for yourself, it comes back in full force, and right now, you would rather do just about anything other than put on a neutral face and ask him how he's doing over there.

"Next time," you say, hoping the finality comes across in your tone. It must have worked, because although Derek shakes his head disappointedly, he doesn't ask again.

When you go to Aaron's place after work to see Jack, Jess pulls you aside, a worried look on her face.

"We spoke to Aaron yesterday," she explains, her arms crossed over her chest. The bureau set up a secure line for them so she and Jack could speak to him periodically. "He seemed to be doing well."

"That's great," you say with a nod, unsure of why she's updating you when she thinks you spoke to him today. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," she says, waving away your concern. "I told him about Jack starting school in a few weeks, and about my new job. Then when I mentioned you - how you've been coming here a lot - he looked really happy that you were involved, but...he sounded off for the rest of the call."

Your shoulders tense up and you try to relax, so as not to give yourself away. "Damn Jess, they should make you a profiler."

She says your name sternly, and you can hear the Haley in her voice. "I'm serious. Have you guys not been speaking?"

"It's okay," you say, shaking your head. "I just need some more time, but I'll talk to him soon."

She twists her lips into a sad frown and you sigh, not knowing what to say, but she beats you to it. "He misses you...and I can tell you miss him."

You don't have an answer that she will want to hear, so you stick with the usual. "I'll talk to him next time."

***

"Do I have to go?"

Jack's bottom lip juts out in a sad pout as you adjust the straps of his little backpack on his shoulders.

"It's your first day of school, bud!" Jess is trying to sound excited, but you can hear the sadness in her voice too, now that she won't have Jack all hours of the day anymore. "It's an exciting time!"

"You got this, baby," you smile, pressing a loud kiss to the top of his head. "Your dad is so proud of you."

"Your mom would be too," Jess adds with a sad smile. "Now go on in, Jack. I'll be right here waiting for you when the last bell rings."

He considers this for a moment, before nodding. Then he looks at you. "What about you?"

"I have to work," you say softly, matching his pout and making him let out a small giggle. "But you can tell me all about your first day when I see you this weekend, okay?"

"Okay," he nods, before grabbing the straps of his backpack and marching toward the front door.

"There he goes," Jess says wistfully, linking her arm through yours.

You let out a small sigh before shooting her a smile. You love him so much, and you're so glad you get to be here as he grows up, but you're so sad that Haley is gone and he's missing out on this moment. "They grow up so fast."

***

The next time Aaron calls in, you're talking to Dave in his office about his latest cabin trip. He is filling you in on the species of fish that live in the lake behind his place when Derek walks in with the notification that Aaron is on the other end of the line in his office.

Dave nods, saying he'll speak with him at the end, and Derek almost skips over you until you follow him out the door.

"You sure?" he asks as you follow him up the stairs.

You nod, bracing yourself for the guilt as you pick up the sat phone. "Hello?"

"Morgan?" Aaron asks, his voice confused over the line.

"No," you say, shaking your head even though he can't see you. "It's me."

There's a moment of silence before he clears his throat. "Oh, I'm glad you could come in."

You say something that sounds like "of course" and suddenly he can hear his heartbeat in his ears. He hasn't heard from you in weeks, and even though he's probably coming home soon, he's so happy to hear your voice he could cry.

"Jess said you were there for Jack's first day," he says slowly, trying to find his voice. "Thank you for doing that. I know it's a lot before coming into work."

"It's not," you say genuinely, momentarily alleviating all of the anxiety he has been having around missing everything in his son's life. "He's the perfect kid. I'm lucky to be a part of his life."

He closes his eyes, wishing with every fiber of his being that he was there with you right now, and not thousands of miles away. "Thank you."

"Any time."

There's silence for a few moments before your breath stutters. "Do you know when you're coming back?"

His heart cracks at the soft sadness in your voice, but he still isn't allowed to share anything that is strictly need-to-know. "I don't."

Your breath catches in your throat and he hears the quiet sob as it breaks over the line. "I miss you, Aaron."

His fingers grip the phone so tightly he's afraid it may shatter in his hands, but there's nothing else tethering him to his life back home. This metal box is the one thing that is keeping him alive out here, and even though he left home so that he could stop lying to you, he's still doing it.

That's why he swallows thickly and says the one thing he knows isn't a lie: "I miss you too."

***

The team got called into the office for an emergency that no one has explained to any of you, and you take a seat in the briefing room as everyone else files in, matching looks of confusion all around you.

"Anyone know what we're doing here?" Dave asks as he leans back in his chair.

You're about to shrug when a figure walks into the room in a dark blue button down and an unfamiliar scruffy beard.

Your eyes widen and your breath leaves your body as you start to stand up, but then he motions for you all to take a seat, so you sink back down. He glances at everyone in the room before his eyes finally land on you. You can't believe he's here. That he knew he was coming back and still didn't tell you.

"What's going on?" Derek asks, breaking your eye contact with a jolt. "Everything all right?" Aaron ignores him. "Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team. As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle."

You don't know why he's bringing this up again but then he continues. "The doctors were able to stabilize her and she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under covert exfiltration."

Your heart falls. No, there's no way. "Her identity was strictly need-to-know. And she stayed there until she was well enough to travel. She was reassigned to Paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to, for her security." Your teammates break their silence at the same time.

"She's alive?"

"But we buried her..."

You're still unable to suck in a big enough breath to regain the ability to speak, but then another figure walks in and you suddenly understand what people mean when they say their heart skips a beat.

"Oh my god," Penelope whispers from behind you as your feet unconsciously carry you forward and toward her. Toward Emily.

You pull her into your arms, relishing the feeling of your friend hugging you back after you thought you would never see her again. Her arms squeeze you tightly and you suck in a shuddering breath, trying to calm down your heart rate.

She's alive. Emily's alive. Aaron's back and Emily's alive.

The thoughts ping pong around your brain, fighting for dominance, but another one buried deeper in your mind floats to the surface, refusing to be ignored.

He lied.

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