#Could be read as either 'you have no friends' or as evidence that Gideon still thinks of herself as Harrow's only friend. Either way 😭

[procrastinationaccount]

Gideon the Ninth, Nona the Ninth and Harrow's portions of HtN are all written in limited third person; Gideon's chapters in HtN are the only example of first person. Despite this, most readers are effectively tricked into reading it as second person because of the way all of her thoughts are directed to Harrow. We look into Gideon's head and, quite fucking literally, "there is no me without you." I love this book so fucking much.

[shadowhuntering]

Matthew & Alastair comparison

I’ve been re-reading Chain of Gold in prep for Chain of Iron and I've noticed that Matthew and Alastair are a foil of each other.

I’ve also been re-reading Cast Long Shadows for investigative purposes and it furthers my realization.

Matthew and Alastair have been through similar issues, but are the opposite (if that makes sense) in some ways. eg. Alastair had to pick up after Elias who is a drunk; Matthew is also a drunk. How they responded to these issues tells you a lot about their nature.

This is my observations, purely for analytical purposes so if I sound particularly harsh towards a character, I do not mean to be.

1. Personalities are the opposite to the other.

Matthew’s personality is literally meant to "blind people" because he's sunny, outgoing and is meant to be the life of the party (or his mask).

Alastair on the other hand is literally "dark" he is broody, not very forth coming and can be very prickly

Ironically though, both have the façade of being conceited when they are the opposite. Though you could argue that Matthew’s alcoholism is a result of being selfish. However, he has little regard for himself which is the danger.

Definition of selfish: Concerned chiefly or excessively with oneself, and having little regard for others.

2. They share a similar notion of love not being real, or won't last. 

Alastair just having a very pessimistic view in general, but Matthew says it about himself. He has full faith that other people will have happiness, where he doesn’t see it happening for himself.

3. Alastair is unapologetically himself, whereas with Matthew he hasn’t been himself for a while, and even back before the events of Cast Long Shadows he was trying to fulfill what people needed at the time.

Matthew cares too much about the people around him to think about himself, but also tries not to care as he fulfills the bad reputation people have of him. He has a mask/façade(s) to help liven or distract, yet he also openly degrades himself. He keeps people at arms length so that they will not be disappointed by him, but also forms close bonds with people. He so badly wants someone to love him, but he doesn't want to help himself or be vulnerable to other people. He’s a walking contradiction.

Alastair does regret the things he did, but he doesn't think less of himself because of them. He did all those things to protect himself from hurt. Alastair also doesn’t care for his attitude. It’s not his problem if people don’t like it basically 😂 He clearly has people he cares about like Sona and Cordelia and prioritises them also. He is also actively trying to right his wrongs on not dwell on his past. He wants to move on with his life.

4. Matthew doesn't want to help himself, Alastair does want to help himself and become a better person.

Matthew openly degrades himself yet keeps his own secrets and thoughts of himself. He self-destructs as he feels he deserves it, even when people reach out and try to care for his well-being and that of others they also love (eg. Lucie’s confrontation). He doesn't see that he is hurting the people around him and also himself because of his attitude towards his own life really. He doesn’t have much of a quality for life. He is clearly depressed. He fails to let anyone in because he doesn’t want to help himself and also thinks too much about what people think of him when honestly the perception they have of him now is probably much lower now because 1. how he has chosen to deal with his mistake 2. how he has kept it to himself therefore making it look like the people who care about him would cast him out.

Alastair knows what he did wrong and is trying to improve himself for the betterment of himself. It was evident that at the time of Cordelia finding out about Charles, he wanted to break free, but once he got over being mad at Cordelia for snooping (rightfully so tbh) he understood that she loves him and would give him the support he needed; he had the inspiration from her to commit to moving forward and make amends for himself. Sure, he kept people at arms length in order to protect himself but inherently he does make himself vulnerable for other people. He still let in Charles, made himself vulnerable to love. Then with Thomas... he let Thomas see his guard down in Paris (and before that Thomas just saw right through him) and he ended up allowing Cordelia in, taking heed of her advice and love. He knew that Charles was hurting him and other people, so he stood up to him. He is much more open and vulnerable which is ironic really.

To me, the progression Alastair has already made makes me believe that the same will come for Matthew. However, the bottom line here is that Matthew self-destructs and doesn’t want to help himself whereas Alastair wants to be a better person and look after himself. Alastair has self-love which is what Matthew severely lacks.

5. Both had to grow up fast due to responsibilities of looking after their father...

Matthew arguably has "Mommy issues". This is not me making excuses for Matthew, or even criticizing Charlotte in any way, this is just my interpretation of Cast Long Shadows...

Matthew seems to have low self-esteem and love for himself due to abandonment issues it seems. He probably felt abandoned as a child by Charlotte. It's not that he was unsupportive of her or holds anything against her, but when you look at it objectively, his upbringing shaped his reaction to Alastair and to himself. She literally left him crying at 6 years old and told him to "look after your father" as she had to go off with Charles. Cast Long Shadows is a huge emphasis of how the feeling of abandonment from Charlotte, leading to how he instantly believed that Charlotte had an affair with Gideon and took drastic action. This I feel is because he never felt comfortable to openly discuss to her about himself really. He also didn't trust her...

I do not wish to insult Charlotte as her job is serious and I'm so proud of her, but unfortunately, due to it, it made an impact on who Matthew is now. He didn't trust, nor feel comfortable enough to sit down and talk to Charlotte because he never really got to know her properly or wanted to burden her. It probably also felt like she had favoritism over Charles, and Matthew didn't want to step on her toes. She also never noticed the little things he did like make her favourite scones and he just went feeling unloved or unappreciated (though he should have said something?). She would ask of him to be sensible, didn't really engage much in his humor which probably contributed to how he viewed himself as well as he already was so self-conscious and was vying for her attention. No offense to Henry but his immersion into his science probably left Matthew feeling abandoned as well as he was the one caring for him, then Christopher is the one who understands and engages. Matthew was his carer, effectively, making sure he ate, drank, slept and wheeled him about. He did love his father though, so he didn’t mind. Though Henry does praise him when he breaks the news about them expecting which just made Matthew feel more guilty of his accidental poisoning.

It’s like Matthew wants all of the attention, but he never voices what he wants aloud. This results with no one paying him much heed. In Cast Long Shadows there is also a comparison to James and Lucie’s relationship with Tessa and Will. James and Lucie have communication with their parents, along with known support and trust. Matthew does not seem to have this as he seems too afraid to voice it, not because he is scared of Charlotte and Henry, but because he is too considerate of them. I also find it Ironic that the next story in GotSM is Every Exquisite Thing where there is a huge emphasis of Anna and Cecily’s relationship with each other. Anna being too scared that Cecily would be critical and not understand her, but when Cecily comes to Anna at her worst, she completely understood Anna and supported her, making her feel better. To me this is another stark contrast to Matthew where his parents are too busy to build a good relationship with him, and when there is a heart to heart (Henry talking with Matthew) it is too late and doesn’t ease his mind. Anna also points out how no one would approach Matthew because “he did not do well under confinement”- it makes sense, he doesn’t like confrontation. 

(I can go into further detail about Cast Long Shadows with Matthew’s upbringing being detrimental to his view of himself)

Alastair however has "Daddy issues". Alastair has a similar case of looking after his father, but he came to resent his father because he never got himself better or was so drunk to even remember or acknowledge Alastair and his help or I suppose confront his problem. Alastair knows what it can do and simply does not want to re-live it, and as Cordelia is now friends with Matthew, he doesn't want Cordelia being hurt by Matthew either or having to pick up after him as he did for Elias. That is also where they butt heads. It is too coincidental that Matthew is also drinking to forget, and is not wanting to make himself be better and deal with it. Alastair is trying to protect Cordelia, but he is also allowing her to make decisions for herself.

In ChoG Alastair says he was 10 when he learnt to fill the brandy bottles with water to mask the levels that had been drunk. He was probably picking up his father and "looking after him" well before that. Alastair tried to protect Cordelia from this because he was being more considerate for her sake. He wanted her to have a childhood he was robbed of. He is also being a foil here of Charles. Charles was so self-involved that he never decided to even think about his younger brother, Matthew. Alastair was compassionate; Charles was not. Alastair is a good older brother; Charles was not and was even accusatory that Matthew being parabatai with James and being in London is what caused Charlotte to be ill... he just has so much resentment...

I also believe that Alastair wanted the burden off of his mother, and I'm wondering if he knows more about Sona and her feelings towards Elias being sour and terrified (This is I feel what is indicated in the teaser of when Elias appears where Sona seems to go pale) despite rushing to him and hugging him etc.

“Sona went white and laid a hand against the wall to steady herself. "Elias?"” 

Alastair was bitter and twisted and he never wanted people to know because he knew it was a weak spot for him. It is what sparked him telling Matthew the rumor in the first place. 

“ "I wish I could say the same for you," said Matthew. "Has no kind soul thought to inform you that your hairstyle is, to use the gentlest words available to me, ill-advised? A friend? Your papa? Does nobody care enough to prevent you from making a spectacle of yourself? Or are you simply too busy perpetrating acts of evil upon the innocent to bother about your unfortunate appearance?" “

...

“Instead Alastair said: "Who are you to play the moralist, talking about tricks and papas, considering the circumstances of your birth?" “

He ultimately had inherited his father's shame which was wrong. It's what Cordelia has told him as well. Alastair shouldn't have to think of the mess of Elias; it is his shame to deal with, not Alastair’s.

Though arguably, as a result of Alastair giving Cordelia an innocent childhood, it opened the doors for Cordelia to want to reach out for him, due to her optimism and love, and as he loves his sister dearly, he takes what she has to say to heart. They will now face things together as a support network and hopefully they also have communication with their mother. Although their family may be "broken" they arguably have more communication and togetherness than Matthew does with his family.

(Sorry, that bit was long)

6. Result of their nature after childhood being robbed

Matthew seems to act more of a "child" anyways, being more “frivolous”. He is being reckless, he is a little petty as well. Whereas Alastair decided to grow up too fast and is more mature and relatively grounded. It did harden him to begin with, but he doesn’t want to completely isolate himself. He’s just simply more rational. This I feel is in their nature though, not nurture. 

7. Matthew is slowly driving everyone away, this is kind of what Alastair tried to achieve

Alastair at the Academy decided that he would be the bully in order not to be the one being ridiculed, thinking that he would be better off and retain a hard skin, but all it did was make him regret and never allowed him to create good bonds with people. Then when he came back from the Academy, he distanced himself from Cordelia. I interpreted this as him dealing with his guilt and regret and tried to not get Cordelia too close to him because of it, but Cordelia cared about him too much. Though it could’ve just been that he got too used to having a hard skin, not letting anyone close. Throughout ChoG he builds his bond with Cordelia, and we also see James coming around to Alastair. Thomas as always was curious and saw his better side and Christopher was seemed ready to give him a second chance. Though due to Matthew’s spew at the end, there is distance between him and Thomas and others (save Jordelia).

Matthew is driving everyone away, simply because he is being so reckless. He had originally established good relationships with people. Then, when Lucie confronts him he literally avoids it, no matter how realistic she was being and how much he cared for her, but that was it; he cared too much for her to tell her. We see that even James will snap at him in COI

Teaser #41: "There is no point to it," said Matthew. "If you will never see reason or good sense—"

"Because you're a bastion of reason and good sense?" James snapped. He knew he had a temper, just like his father; his anger spilled past everything else, tasting of copper and fury. "Matthew, you are drunk. For all I know, you mean nothing you are saying."

"I mean all of it," Matthew protested. "In vino veritas—"

"Don't you quote Latin at me," said James. "Even if you were sober, you've never taken love seriously enough to lecture me. Your passions have been a series of dalliances and ill-conceived attachments. Look at me and tell me there is something you love more than that bottle in your hand."

Matthew also decides to move out and get his own place to force independence and probably drive even more of a wedge between himself and Charlotte. We also knows he has an argument with Charlotte; his apartment and car is undoubtedly a result of that, escaping the conflict and confrontation. 

Anna had wanted to talk to him (Every Exquisite Thing), Magnus also wanted to help him. Lucie has always wanted to help for the sake of James and James has always known something was off. They just know that he wouldn’t say anything, and I think most were in the hopes that he would eventually say something. We know that Cordelia is most likely the one he tells thankfully! It is ironic that it is Cordelia for both Alastair and Matthew as well. So it already looks like Chain of Iron will provide the break and repair of relationships for Matthew, similar to Alastair’s progression of self-love.

8. Matthew is very open about his sexuality. Alastair does try and keep it hidden, however it’s more complicated. This is a reflection of their concern of judgement.

Although Matthew keeps things to himself, he admittedly is not afraid of what people think of him as his expectations of himself are so low. However, he is also ruled by the expectations of others, all through his life people had low expectations of him (again, another thing that influenced his actions in general) and he feels to fulfill that obscure one in spite?? The reputation the he has, has always been obscured because in everyone's eyes it will and always has been Charles who will inherit and uphold the good reputation as Consul as they don’t see Matthew as smart or responsible. However, the latter there he doesn’t help prove them wrong...

Alastair keeps his sexuality secret, that is until Cordelia finds out and he eventually warms up to her. Plus he was dependent of Charles as well, but committed himself that he wouldn’t be the side-dish. He wants to love himself for himself, not be hidden as a secret.

There is also a "reputation" element of the family that he still wants to uphold. He is learning though that he has to put himself first and should make amends for his reputation and not have to be burdened by others. Though I would argue that Cordelia is the one who is more concerned about it, but now she knows the truth she is wavering. It’s more complex.

To conclude: 

I feel like their stories will either reflect the other, or will be intertwined somehow. As Alastair has dealt with a drunk and looks down upon alcoholism in general because of his experience makes me believe that Matthew might need Alastair's perspective to grow up. Once he understands Alastair I feel it may pave the way for forgiving and loving himself. 

Alastair was the "spark" of making him spiral, but he was well on his way of questioning his family's loyalty and love of him before that (hence why we were given so much background) and it played into his weakness. Matthew I think wants to take it out on Alastair (he says he didn't blame Alastair or the Faerie. Alastair is just easy to take his frustration out on) as he is not prepared to come to terms with himself or even his family for that matter for his grievance. He loves his family very much and that’s why he feels so guilty, but it's wrong for him to believe so easily and hide his guilt away and that has to be due to his upbringing...

tldr; Alastair and Matthew have stark comparisons to each other that it’s probable that they are detrimental to each other’s character arcs.

@sparkofsummer

[brywrites]

Flight Risk IX

Summary: An answer to the age old CM question, “who’s flying the plane?” And the story of a pilot and a profiler. Part IX: In which a profiler and a pilot try their best not to care, featuring an incredibly tacky hotel.

(Series Masterlist) ( Previous |  Next )

----

The case closes. When it’s time to go home, Reid sees her leaning against the wall of the hangar with a book. Their eyes meet. He stops walking, frozen to the ground. And in response, she walks away and disappears into the jet. Neither of them knows what to say. She gives herself over to the sky, he loses himself in paperwork. The jet has never felt so big. Like there are miles between them instead of just mere feet.

Y/N thinks of Peter Pan. “The moment you doubt whether you can fly you cease for ever to be able to do it.” She doesn’t know what they are to each other anymore. Are they still friends? Were they ever at all? Was Arthur right all along? Maybe she simply is made for staying, not with her airplane heart. Hopelessly circling, never quite finding a place to land.

Reid has never had to do this before, to hurt someone in this way. He’s not sure how to reach out to her after putting this distance in place. And so he doesn’t. It doesn’t ease the loneliness. Only Garcia notices the change, when he stops talking about her.

“She told you how she felt, didn’t she?” Penelope asks, her cheerful smile deflating. Reid averts his gaze. The pained look on Garcia’s face mirrors the ache in his chest. “Oh, Reid,” she says. “Do you really still believe that you’re not allowed to be happy?”

“But you looked so happy together,” Yeeqin laments when Y/N tells her what happened. “I just don’t get it.” She and her girlfriend Saoirse offer to key his car, an offer Y/N promptly refuses. They’re both hurting enough as is. And besides, knowing Yeeqin she’d vandalize the wrong car and need someone to bail her out. After the “graffiti incident of 2014,” Y/N has no interest in doing so again.

And so they stay away. Things return to the way they always were – pilots and profilers. Two separate worlds on the same G550 jet. The only exchanges are simply pleasantries or requests from the team to the pilots, but they never come from Reid. Or announcements about takeoff and landing that almost always come from Captain Dobson. On the rare occasions when Y/N’s voice floods into the cabin, he closes his eyes and lets himself imagine that she’s speaking only to him. Sometimes when the agents disembark from the plane, she watches him go from the cockpit window and tries to remember what it was like when they sat so close.

He stops arriving early. She stops reading in the hangar if she’s not on the jet. They both pretend it’s normal. They both pretend it’s possible for them not to care. That it’s easy, that it doesn’t bother them one bit to be apart like this. That it wasn’t better before.

Y/N goes to dinner at Arthur and Malik’s house. Martin and Theresa are there and she runs around the yard with their older children, Carolyn and Benedict, and coos over baby Douglas. They share cocktails and swap stories and it feels so good to be surrounded by her own team, this makeshift family of aviators. She has movie nights in with Yeeqin and goes out with her and Saoirse anytime they invite her along and it’s so nice to be among friends. But then Martin looks at Theresa with all the love in the world and Saoirse falls asleep on Yeeqin’s shoulder in the cab on the way home and it’s acutely apparent to her that something is missing in her life.

Reid distracts himself with work and with books and tells himself that he’s always been just fine this way, with words and obligations instead of laughter over takeout or meetings at coffee shops. But then he discovers Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close in his bottom desk drawer at work, the copy she’d loaned to him and he’d sworn he would remember to give back to her and suddenly he’s trying not to cry in the bullpen and he doesn’t quite know why.

She learns from Arthur, who knew him, that Spencer’s mentor has been killed. And she can see on their next case that he’s hurting. The sadness in his eyes, the exhaustion evident in his slumped posture makes her want to run to him and wrap him in a hug, hold him close like he held her that night on the couch. But she’s not supposed to care about him anymore.

He sees the way she looks back at him as she boards the jet that day, her eyes lingering on him for just a fraction too long, and he thinks that just maybe she’s going to say something to him. But she doesn’t and he’s not sure if he’s relieved or disappointed. Either way, Gideon’s death seems only to prove his theory – the people he loves get hurt.

When they come home from the bombing case in Indianapolis, he’s drained from a week of mourning and a grueling chess match with Rossi. As Reid stands in the hangar searching for his keys in his bag, he hears, “Doctor Reid,” and turns to see Captain Dobson standing a few feet away.

“Yes?” he asks.

The captain opens his mouth, falters, and then says, “I’m sorry for your loss.” The sentiment is confusing, as he already told Reid this as he boarded the plane three days earlier. But perhaps Dobson has forgotten the conversation. So he thanks the captain and continues on his way.

Y/N and Reid seek solace in their friends, in their books, in the places that make them feel safe. And they try so hard to convince their hearts that they don’t feel anything that they wonder if it was ever even real to begin with. And for a little while, they almost believe it.

But then comes Nashville.

---

“Did you see the picture Martin sent of baby Douglas in his pilot’s cap?” Y/N asks.

“I did,” Arthur says. “It was cute.”

“The cutest thing I’ve ever seen!” she insists. “I wish he could bring the kids by for a visit sometime, I’m sure they’d love to check out the jet. Do you remember being a kid and how they’d let you go visit the flight deck and see how a plane worked? And they’d give you those little plastic pilots wings?”

“Relics of a bygone era,” Arthur sighs. “I’m sure I still have a pair of PanAm Junior Pilot wings stashed in a box somewhere.” The millennium ushered in a new vision of aviation security and sharp pins and strangers in the cockpit simply aren’t considered protocol anymore. “How are we looking?”

Y/N glances at the altimeter and airspeed indicators. “Flying at 46,000 feet. Currently at Mach point nine. Should be about one hour and ten minutes to destination.”

“Let the cabin now we’ve reached out cruising altitude, will you?” Arthur asks. Typically it’s her job to shift the jet into cruise while Arthur makes the announcement, but she nods and takes the speaker.

“Good afternoon passengers, this is your co-pilot speaking. We’ve reached our cruising altitude of 46,000 feet. At this time please feel free to resume using electronic devices and move about the cabin. We expect to be landing in Nashville in about an hour. Skies are clear, should be smooth sailing ahead. In-flight refreshments will not be served, but you’re welcome to help yourselves to anything stocked in the galley.”

A part of her wonders if he thinks of her when he hears her voice. Not that it should matter anymore. Before she can lose herself in her own thoughts, Arthur asks, “Who Framed Roger Rabbit?”

“Lincoln,” she decides after a moment to think. “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?”

Arthur says, “The Terminator,” without missing a beat. The captain is well-versed in cinema, which makes Double Feature one of his favorite in-flight games. The first movie must always be a question, and whoever can come up with the best films in response is declared the winner. Arthur almost always wins, and it’s a challenge to think up films they haven’t already used.

“What’s Eating Gilbert Grape?”

“Hannibal.”

“That’s terrible,” Arthur laughs.

“Dude, Where’s My Car?”

“Brokeback Mountain.”

“Oof, that’s gonna be a long and sad trek to retrieve it,” she sighs. “I’m not prepared for that kind of emotional devastation.” But the game does help to take her mind off of what she’s really feeling. She can lose herself in words and not in wishes. They land GEFF gently on the tarmac in Nashville and when they pull around to the hangar, she doesn’t look out the side window. Y/N stares straight ahead at the horizon. The sky fades from deep royal blue to soft pale periwinkle where the distant skyline rises up to meet it and she loves every single shade in between.

Once the team has departed, she and Arthur walk through the cabin tidying up and making note of anything that needs to be cleaned or restocked prior to takeoff. Arthur won Double Feature (“O Brother Where Art Thou?” “Soylent Green.” “Oh, that is incredibly twisted!”) so it’s her turn to clean the bathroom. Fortunately a short flight like this means it’s fairly clean to begin with. She wipes sanitizes the sink and toilet, empties the paper towel bag, makes sure there’s enough soap and toilet paper. Garbage is deposited in the trash can at the back of the hangar and they return to Geff to grab their own go-bags.

“Listen, Y/L/N,” Arthur says as they lock the cockpit door. “About the IRT job.”

“Arthur,” she cuts him off. “I really don’t want to talk about this right now.” When he looks as though he’s about to protest she adds, “Please. I just want to go to hotel and take a nap and watch whatever silly romcom is on pay per view.”

He nods and says nothing more. They catch a rideshare from the airport together and she stares out the window at the buildings and billboards that line the roads. She already knows what she’s going to do about the offer. She made her decision after her conversation with Spencer. The choice was clear. But she doesn’t want to discuss it yet. She’s not ready.

They step into the lobby of the Graduate Hotel and her mouth falls open. It’s hideous. There’s a fuzzy tapestry – a fuzzy tapestry of a woman with a hat against a pink background that appears to be made out of the same material as a shag rug. The lamps at the concierge desk have hot pink floral patterns on them. A neon installation that looks similar to a vintage gas station sign announces vacancies in bright green and red light. The armchairs are blue velvet and the hanging lights look like tulle skirts. There’s too much happening at once.

“This is the ugliest hotel I’ve ever seen,” she says.

“Well the more affordable ones were nearly full – evidently this is a big weekend for admitted students at Vanderbilt – they had to double up all of the rooms for the team. But the Bureau managed to get us a discount here,” Arthur replies as they stand at the desk waiting for someone to check them in.

“I suppose a bunch of special agents wouldn’t blend in well at a place like this,” she admits. Hopefully they solve the case quickly and she’s not stuck here too long. True to her word she spends the first night relaxing in her room. The bathroom is beautiful – black walls with gold accents and a glass shower. The room itself is another story. The carpet is a rainbow of jewel-toned diamonds in a quilt-like pattern. The walls are pink and white striped, a candelabra sits next to a pink television. White curtains with a vibrant floral pattern line the window and form a hanging behind the bed. The bed, mercifully, has the standard white blankets and white pillows, though there is hot pink chevron quilt draped over the end and an eerie portrait of Dolly Parton stares at her from above the headboard. Y/N shudders.

Penelope Garcia calls her that evening. She’s waiting to hear back from the team and could use some virtual company. “I don’t even know if you’d like this place,” Y/N tells her. “It’s so garishly tacky. Like a sorority girl and her antique-collecting grandmother chose items from their storage closet at random.”

“Oh it can’t be that bad,” Garcia says.

“Penelope, I am ever the optimist. I love quirky, whimsical adventures. But this is something else. The Dolly Parton painting keeps staring at me, I swear!”

“Let me look it up.” There is the sound of fingers frantically typing on a keyboard. “Oh come on now, the lobby is way cute! And the patio? I just – oh. Oh my. Oh those rooms. You’re right. That’s bad. That’s very bad.”

“I told you!”

“That went from cute to crikey very quickly,” she agrees. After takeout for dinner and watching Serendipity, Y/N falls asleep under the unnervingly watchful eye of Dolly. The next day is completely free, and she heads out to explore the city. Wherever she ends up, she tries to take advantage of the adventures available to her. Just blocks from the hotel she discovers Nashville’s Parthenon – a full-scale replica of the Greek temple which hides an art museum inside. She wanders the galleries and stands at the entrance staring up at the pillars holding the roof up. What would it be like to visit the real thing? She wonders how many times the IRT has gone to Greece before. Maybe they’ll end up in Athens sometime this year.

Café Coco is the cutest coffee shop she’s seen in any city, and she grabs tea and a scone before returning to Centennial Park. Beneath the barely blossoming trees she sits and reads Dandelion Wine. It’s beautifully written and full of longing. That longing seeps through the pages and she can feel it in her bones. Nostalgia for times past and places far behind and things that cannot be. Everything that Spencer said it would be. As she reads she tries to imagine which lines would have made him smile or elicited a wistful sigh. Are the parts she loves most the same as the parts he loves most?

Her phone buzzes with a text form Arthur to ask if she wants to get lunch together at the hotel bar, and she shoves the book and her longing back in her bag and walks over to meet him.They step from the tacky lobby into a bar that seems remarkably normal. String lights and chandeliers cast an inviting ambient glow over the wooden tables and chairs. Country music is playing over the speakers. But as they she and Arthur move closer towards an open table, she sees it. The stage.

“What is that?” she asks. There’s a bear, a pig, and a fox in a wig atop a stage that says Cross-Eyed Critters. Each holds an instrument. And it’s then that she realizes the music is coming from them. It’s an animatronic band. Their eyes and mouths move as they sing and their fabricated bodies turn and jerk with the beat. “What?” she asks again, completely dumbfounded. “What?”

Arthur too is speechless. Then he shakes his head and says, “It’s nothing a drink or two won’t make more palatable.” She snaps a photo on her phone and texts it to Garcia, who will surely get a kick out of it.

As they sit down, a voice announces a new song over the speakers. A slightly tipsy looking man in a pair of red cowboy boots comes to stand in front of the stage. He has a microphone. The animatronics begin to play the opening notes of a song, and then the man begins to sing. This is not just a bar with an animatronic band, it’s an animatronic karaoke bar. The man in the red boots belts out an uncomfortably off-key version of a Kenny Rogers song –“You’ve got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk away and know when to run!”– with just a little too much bravado.

“I think I’ll need that drink sooner rather than later,” Arthur admits begrudgingly. She has to laugh. This hotel, it seems is full of surprises. But the captain is right. When she receives a spiked cream soda and Arthur has a glass of bourbon and there’s a plate of tacos between them, it’s easier to tune out the karaoke band. She can just enjoy her drink and the light and the stories of Arthur’s first flights with the BAU that have her nearly in tears from laughing so hard. For someone who maintains such a serious demeanor most of the time, he knows how to tell a joke incredibly well. She’s always appreciated that about him.

“Y/N, there is something I wanted to talk with you about,” Arthur says. His tone changes and she knows the time for joking is over. “We need to discuss the IRT offer.” Before he can continue, her phone rings. She glances at the screen. It’s Penelope. Y/N sends it to voicemail. There will be time to discuss the disconcerting robot band later when she’s back in her room. Right now, she needs to focus on Arthur. She knows where this is going and he’s right. She can’t keep putting this off forever. She has to talk about this, and everything that it means.

“I’ve already made my decision,” she begins to say. But her phone begins to ring again, and her heart drops into her stomach. This isn’t about the picture. This is urgent. Arthur must realize it too. His eyes trail down to her phone and she hesitantly picks it up.

“It’s Garcia,” she tells him, before answering. “Hello?”

“Y/N, oh thank goodness you picked up.” The analyst’s voice is a little higher than usual, a little more strained. “It’s Reid. He’s in the hospital.”

[purplebass]

The maturity of The Last Hours characters

I really don’t know how to name this, lmao. But yeah. In this post I will try to rate (?) the level of maturity of the characters from The Last Hours. I’m only analyzing the young people, if you want a post about The Infernal Devices characters or The Mortal Instruments characters (since I still have to read TDA to this day), I can also do that. But this post will focus on the “children��.

I don’t like using the word children for these characters because they are not children so to speak, but there are some characters which are more childish than the others. I tried to outline some characters to also show how they are mirroring each other. You’ll see how funny that most of the characters who share similar storylines may not like each other too much and may also not have the same maturity, but some of them are also each other’s love interests.

I apologize for the length of this essay, but I tried to cover every character.

First, a disclaimer: I don’t consider these groups I made as strict, because of course, you can’t rate a person’s maturity. This is just a way to show you the careful planning behind the characters and I’m just trying to organize them based on logic and observation. 

The first “group” I’ll analyze is the one with the character I believe are the most mature, that we can also divide in “denied childhood” and “happy childhood”. In my opinion, in this group we have Alastair, Ariadne, Anna, Thomas and Jesse. They aren’t just the oldest, they are also the ones who have always acted maturely throughout CoG. What differs between the characters I cited above is their upbringing.

Rejected Children

Alastair and Ariadne always had to fight for their parents’ approval and Alastair also had to take his father’s place whenever he was “sick”. Alastair couldn’t live his childhood the way a normal child usually does. To add fuel to the fire we also have to consider the moment when Cortana rejects Alastair when Elias is also present: that’s the metaphor of Elias rejection of Alastair as his son. This also connects with the theory of Alastair not being Elias’ son and I already think Alastair has found out about this. Ariadne also has similarities with Alastair’s situation and mirrors his situation in the opposite way. Her parents were killed when she was young. She was adopted, yes, but I reckon that the Bridgestock family has also a lot of prejudices? And they also disapprove of Ariadne seeing Anna.

Alastair and Ariadne are the “rejected children” because despite they do everything in order to keep the harmony in their households (Alastair by cleaning after Elias and Ariadne by being a perfect smart lady), they always feel like they do not deserve to be loved, because their parents never make them feel truly loved or if they do, they don’t see it (because it’s evident to me that Cordelia loves Alastair very much and Sona does too, even if she doesn’t openly show it). On the other hand, they did so much as to agree to their family’s requests even if they didn’t want to, because that’s how what they believed they had to do in order to be loved.

Alastair’s first infatuation was Charles, with whom he fell in love but that he also idealized like he probably idealized his father. Alastair, who wanted to get Elias’ attention the most but also protect Cordelia and Sona from his father’s issues, fell for another man with a problematic ego like Charles. Ariadne’s first love was Anna, but Ariadne’s parents don’t approve of her. She is naturally well-liked by shadowhunters and downworlders alike because of her personality, her confidence. Ironic, but also not ironic, that Charles is the “link” between Alastair and Ariadne. Unlike Alastair who continued seeing Charles, Anna refused to keep seeing Ariadne after her engagement with Charles.

Both Alastair and Ariadne are mature people but they also have trust issues. They often see things in a negative way because that’s what they’ve been taught: no matter what you do, you are not valuable. You could know 30 languages but you’d still be useless. In Alastair’s case, I think we’ll soon see how Thomas, who is his love interest, will show him that he is worthy of love but he will also realize that is worthy of love, or he won’t be able to love 360°. In Ariadne’s, we saw at the end of CoG how she is going to show Anna that she’s going to win her back.

Anna and Thomas are the mature characters who had a happy childhood more or less. They grew up in a peaceful environment, with parents who always tried to do their best for them and who also showed them a lot of love. And their brothers and sisters as well are also very protective of both. Plus, they are cousins, which means that they are also protective with each other. But don’t think that they have it easier compared to Alastair and Ariadne, because they also had issues.

When Anna first realized that she didn’t like men and she also didn’t like to dress like a woman, and stole Christopher’s clothes, she tried to hide it. Why? Because as much as your parents seem lovely people and they also accept your wishes (like when Anna didn’t want to go to the Academy and she said she would become a mundane bullfighter if they forced her to go lmao), you never know what they would think about this. Anna, who loved her parents very much, preferred to keep her double life hidden from them. When her parents discovered she was genderqueer, they accepted her. I hope people realize how great this is, because at the beginning of the XX century many people had to lie to their family because they would never accept their daughter or their son going against the “respectability” of the time. Like I wrote on another post, you were considered devious if you were not straight. Anna didn’t want to burden her parents with the fact that she didn’t like men or wear pretty women dresses like society expected her to, but her parents were proud of her regardless. When Cecily discovers Anna’s orientation and gives her a suit as a gift, it’s the moment when Anna can truly be herself and she doesn’t care what the other people think, because that is herself. They either accept it, or they stay away from her. Anna is a very mature also because it’s hard to hear people whisper about you and spread rumors about the life you chose to live. She’s very brave.

Thomas is the last of three children, and his oldest sisters have always tried to protect him because he’s always been a sickly child. Remember that CC posted a cute Christmas story with Gideon and Thomas and Will and James where Gideon is concerned because his son didn’t seem to grow up like a normal child. This is why for years his family tried to protect him. They feared he could die, so Thomas was always under the watchful eyes of someone and he grew tired of this. He appreciated the attention but he also wanted to be alone, and after he got better and went to Spain after the Academy, he became stronger, more mature, and independent. Thomas is quite fatherly in my opinion, as that he is wise and kind, he always tries to see the positive in every situation.

Then we have Jesse. Like Thomas, Jesse was also protected by Tatiana and was a sickly child. In the Christmas story I mentioned above, we see how when Gideon sees Jesse, he reminds him of Thomas. Jesse is Charles’ age, but since he’s technically dead, he still has the body of a 17-year-old. From what we saw, it was evident that Jesse is a respectful person and that he is also selfless. He spent a lot of years in solitude and is a person with manners. Remember what Lucie says? “A ghost with a sense of property.” He also enters in the denied childhood group in my opinion, because as much as Tatiana seemed to have taken care of him and we see how she clings on his body to the point of trying to perform necromancy to bring him back, he also didn’t live a normal childhood. His mother never let him become a shadowhunter, she never let him meet his uncles, aunts and cousins. She never let him meet other shadowhunters. She probably never gave him proper education and all that Jesse knows he learnt it by reading books. Jesse is on the opposite side of the spectrum where Alastair and Ariadne are, but he’s also divided between his life (where he was very innocent and sheltered) and his death (where he matured because he could finally explore the world his mother denied him to see).

You see, aside from Jesse, it is no wonder Alastair, Thomas, Ariadne and Anna were paired together. Not only they are the mature characters, they are also mirroring each other’s journey: Alastair had a difficult childhood while Thomas was too protected. Anna had nice parents while Ariadne lost hers when she was little and her adoptive parents are probably racists and homophobes.

In the second “group”, which I called in the middle, there are characters I consider mature but also not. These characters have acted maturely in some occasions, while they were childish during other occasions. I’ll analyze the ones with happy childhoods first.

Unfiltered Childhood, Sheltered Childhood

James is often described as a responsible and shy guy. James hit the jackpot with his parents too, because we see how close he is with them and how they always support him whatever he does and try to protect him at the same time, when they can. But even James has issues, especially after he turned into a shadow in front of everyone when he was 13. This made him not only believe he is damned (“my father was cursed, whereas I am damned”). He was also bullied because he is part-demon, and he didn’t take this lightly, as we see every time, he risks to turn into a shadow he has a sort of panic attack. James is the older son and has the tendency to cover up for Lucie and all of his closest friends. Despite everything, we can say James had a happy childhood. He was wanted, he was loved, he was protected, but his parents also treated him as an adult and let him and Lucie into the rough stuff of their pasts, hence he had un unfiltered childhood. He knew about the gory details of life early on. In a short story Will gives James, who is 1-2 years old, a damn knife in his hands! If this isn’t someone who doesn’t use a filter with his kids, I don’t know what that is. I think that it was Jesse who was shocked to hear from Lucie that she knew about his grandfather turning into a worm. He didn’t think it was a story fit for kids. I believe that James is mature but he still has some things to face to really be mature, that’s why I put him in this group. But among the Merry Thieves, he is the second most mature, imo. He is the big wise brother. You could argue: and Christopher? I’ll explain later why Christopher is on another level of maturity, wait. Lol.

Cordelia is the second mature character from this group and she is opposed to James. Why? Unlike James who was exposed to reality from a young age and knew about things that a teenager probably shouldn’t know; Cordelia was filled with lies because her family wanted to protect her childhood and didn’t think she should know the harshness of life early on. We see when CoG starts how she’s still innocent and how she had a sheltered childhood. Not only because it will be the first time in years that she will be around other guys her age, but also because until Alastair tells her what he had to cover so that she would have a childhood, she was clueless. Literally. She had been treated like a little girl by Alastair and Sona, when Cordelia was probably able to handle the truth. Cordelia didn’t grow up in a bad environment – besides her father’s problems, which Cordelia was mostly left out because Sona and Alastair kept the secret – but we may discover more things in CoI. Anyway, Cordelia is mature for her age, and she stands up for herself even if it hurts, which isn’t an easy feat.

Denied Childhood

The last of this group is Matthew. Alastair gave him the nickname “Mother Hen Fairchild”. You guys don’t know much Alastair understood about Matthew by giving him this nickname. Matthew is wealthy, wealthier than the others, but this doesn’t mean he had a happy life. On the other hand, Matthew’s only lifeline was his father Henry. You can tell Matthew loves his father, tried to protect him, which is a cute thing to do, but at what expense? For one, his childhood. Matthew is a sociable person, loves to be around people, but when he grew up in Idris, the main thing he did was take care of Henry. I don’t think Henry asked him to do it, nor did Charlotte, but he took it upon himself to do so. After all, Henry is disabled, he really needs help and Matthew just wanted to show his father he appreciated him, but I don’t think he or Charlotte understood that as a natural helper, Matthew would also be drained by this activity. He also didn’t want to leave Henry alone when he left for the Academy, which is also a sign he thinks that one of the things he has to do in order to keep his family intact (especially after the rumor about Charlotte and Gideon) is to take care of Henry. He is indeed a “motherly” figure in the Merry Thieves and to his own father, to some degree. Because of this upbringing, it’s like Matthew never truly lived his childhood like a normal child. And now that he is 17 and is using alcohol as a copying mechanism, it’s like he’s already become metaphorically old, because at that time alcohol abuse was something you’d expect from a middle-aged man.

As you see, these three characters are also expected to be in a sort of triangle, even if we don’t know the extents of this relationship yet. But we’ll surely have a lot to see.

Partially Mature (Still Innocent to Some Degree)

I’m finally at the last group!!! YAY me. I hope you read so far. These are the characters I still consider innocent and that in CoI will have a bigger storyline and we’ll also see them become more mature and face more harsh reality.

Happy Childhood

The first person from this group is Lucie. Lucie is 16, just one year younger than her brother and her best friend Cordelia. Like James, Lucie has been exposed to the harshness of life from a young age, since her parents didn’t keep many secrets with her. But Lucie is still innocent to some degree, and adventurous like a child, but we see that she isn’t able to stay calm whenever things get out of hand and people (including herself) get hurt, because one thing is hearing stories, another is actually being part of those gory stories. First, she has never been in love. I know this sounds silly, but a lot of teenagers start seeing the world differently after they fall in love with someone, truly in love. I’m not talking about infatuation here. It’s also the first time after years of dead calm that London is plagued by a new enemy, which means it’s also the very first time for Lucie – unlike James and the Merry Thieves – to finally face the stories she’s heard from her parents and the fantasy stories she’s invented as a writer. Getting to know Jesse has helped, because he is a very mature character who is opposed to her because he had a very sheltered childhood and he learnt about life just when he turned into a ghost. Since Lucie is on the cover of CoI, she’ll definitely mature more in that book.

Christopher is also innocent. He is smart, he is way more intelligent than everyone imo, but he lives in his own world sometimes. He, like Lucie, had a happy childhood and was very protected by his older sister Anna and of course his parents. But he was also let on in the secrets of the Lightwood family (like the Benedict Lightworm story), so we can say to this point that he is innocent but he also is mature because he uses his logic to make decisions. Of the Merry Thieves he's surely the youngest son, because the other guys always look after him – especially Thomas. In CoI we will probably also see his maturity journey, because so far, he appeared very absent-minded, lost in his thoughts, always trying to come up with solutions to save other people, which is admirable. I think that besides as a plot device, the fact that Belial/Tatiana hurt him with demonic poison was also a way to make Christopher aware that he should also be ready to fight as a shadowhunter other than cultivate his passion for science. I mean, he’ll probably have moments where he could use (like Henry in TID) what he invents as a useful tool in battle.

Denied Childhood

Last but not last, we have Grace. Grace is in this part of the spectrum because she is still very innocent, since she’s lived most of her life brainwashed by Tatiana/Belial. The person we see is not probably the real Grace, but a mannequin. She is also smart because her engagement to Charles was a way to escape her mother’s manipulation, but until she came to London, her whole life has been sheltered, Tatiana has told her lies, has molded her the way she wanted Grace to act as a mean to her revenge. Grace has suffered the same gaslighting Tatiana suffered from Benedict Lightwood, except Grace is aware of this and is trying to find ways to escape. Spending time with Ariadne and Lucie will only make her more conscious of who she really is, but it will be a long way because she still seems like a frail flower sometimes. She also seems not to have received training, so she’s even more in danger. CoI will probably feature a new side of Grace, and we’ll see her throw her innocence away (well, not literally, guys) and be more self-aware.

If we were to follow the logic I used so far, we’d see that Christopher and Grace might become love interests. If we look at the structure of the plot and of the couples we have so far, they are opposites but also similar. I know that many people don’t like Grace, but I believe that if she gets an arc where we see how she can give as a character, she may grow on us. Anyway, mine is just an assumption, I can be wrong. As for Lucie and Jesse, it’s only fitting the that the partially mature character and the character who wasn’t mature when he was alive and who became mature when he died, are going to be each other’s love interests. They are half-away. It’s only fitting because Lucie can also “call” ghosts who are still stuck in the living world (in the middle between life and death): understand what I mean?

Ok, I think I can close this essay by saying thank you for reading so far! But also, if you have ideas or comments etc, you can write in my ask box. As you see, I like to discuss about characters and plots, so I’m happy if you shot me a message, even in anon.

[vampiregirl1797]

When You Need a Shoulder to Sleep On

Spencer Reid x Wife Reader

 GIF Not Mine

 Summary: When you return back to work as a profiler with the BAU after being gone for maternity leave, the job is harder than it used to be, being as you’re functioning on little to no sleep and no caffeine. Lucky for you, you have your wonderful husband, Spencer, and your family at the BAU to support you.

 Word Count: 2,642

 Click Here For Masterlist

 It had been fourteen months since I’d had a cup of coffee. While I’d been pregnant, ironically enough I hadn’t noticed the absence of the heavenly hot beverage. But now I was returning to work and functioning on less than three hours sleep? Yeah, I was exhausted. Spencer, my wonderful, loving husband and doting father, bless his soul, had even less sleep. He tended to sleep light anyway, and since the baby had arrived he’s been a little... protective. So it was routine for us both to attend to little baby Gideon Derek together, as neither of us were able to think about sleep until we knew the baby was back down.

 The difference of course was that I was functioning with no caffeinated stimulants to keep my brain working, while Spencer was on his third cup of heavenly goodness since we’d arrived at the Bureau. Which of course meant that I was barely functioning at all.

‘Denise Hernandez was found murdered in her apartment a week ago. She was discovered by her landlord three days later when he went to check on her, after another tenant had voiced their concern.’ Garcia said, the beeping of her pressing the buttons on her beepy echoing throughout the room, ‘there were no signs of sexual assault and the body was in her bed and she was tucked in underneath her own duvet.’

 I blinked, trying to force some energy into my body as I flipped open the file in front of me, detailing the murder Garcia was narrating.

 ‘The unsub wrapped her in plastic underneath the covers to prevent her blood from sleeping through the fabric.’ I voiced aloud as I read it in the report, ‘that indicates that the way he leaves her behind is important to him.’

 ‘That’s true, before the covers were removed she looks asleep.’ Rossi agreed, flicking through the photographs in his own file.

 ‘If that’s the case it’s interesting he doesn’t chose a less gruesome method of murder. If the charade of the victim appearing asleep is so important to him, why go through the trouble of stabbing her twelve times?’ Tara added, taking a sip of her coffee after she spoke.

 I tried not to stare too longingly at the mug, despite knowing that a cup would jolt the energy back into my system.

 ‘If she didn’t live alone I’d suggest it’s done by way of giving him more time before the murder is discovered. It would be a while before anyone realized she was asleep.’ I said, looking over to the enhanced crime scene photos on the screen. There was something bothering me about the whole picture, I just couldn’t put my finger on it.

 ‘But since she did live alone it’s more likely that the manner he’s displayed her, as well as the method he’s employed, are both important to him.’ Spencer said, his lips pursed in thought as his eyes quickly moved over the pages in his hand.

 The amount of information his beautiful brain could take in, in such little time, still blew me away after all these years. I’d never get tired of his incredible mind, whether it be the facts he knew and eagerly shared, or the way he excitedly took in new information. He was amazing and so sexy.

 ‘Have there been any other victims?’ Derek asked, his eyes moving from the file in front of him to the colorfully dressed blonde.

 ‘Yes. Danielle Richmond was discovered in her apartment this morning. She lives alone and according to the M.E. She died yesterday, she was discovered quicker than the last victim as she had plans with a friend who called the cops when she didn’t show up or answer her phone.’ She clicked her beeper three more times, bringing up a picture of Danielle and a few pictures from the crime scene.

 ‘They look like they could be twins.’ I noted, both had brown eyes, olive complexions, long brown hair and a slender figure, ‘seems like he has a very specific type in terms of victimology. Either he’s working up to killing someone specific in his life that looks like these women, or someone who looks like her has died and triggered these killings.’

 ‘Those are both things we should keep in mind.’ Prentiss nodded, closing her file, ‘wheels up in ten.’

 //

 ‘There’s something out of place here.’ I murmured, taking a step back with my arms crossed over my chest

 ‘What is it?’ Morgan asked, standing next to me and taking in the room as well.

 ‘I’m not sure...’ I trailed off, my gaze landing on the book next to Danielle’s bed. I walked over and picked it up, reading the title aloud, ‘A book of fairytales. That’s what’s out of place.’

 I pulled out my phone and dialed JJ— her and Alvez were at the other crime scene.

 ‘Hey, Y/N, what’s up?’

 ‘At your crime scene, are their any novels by the bed?’

 ‘Hang on,’ she said, there was some shuffling over the receiver as I handed the book I was holding to Morgan, ‘yeah there’s a copy of fairytales. Oh my god.’

 Morgan opened the book, he brows lifting in surprise before he turned it around. It was a picture of Snow White dead in her see through coffin, but the victims face had been glued over the cartoon features.

 ‘Can you bring your book back to the station? I think I know what he’s doing.’ I sighed, hanging up my phone and sliding it into my back pocket.

 //

 I smiled as I entered the station, telling Morgan that I’d meet him in the briefing room in a minute after I’d been to the bathroom. Of course he knew I was lying, but he must have sympathized with the dark circles under my eyes because he didn’t call me on it.

 I discretely but firmly grasped my husband’s hand and led him down an unpopulated corridor.

 ‘How are you feeling, honey?’ he asked, pulling me close and rubbing my lower back as I practically melted into his chest. I loved that he didn’t have to ask why I’d commandeered him for a moment alone—I assumed he was used to my clingy behaviour and heightened emotional state when I was so exhausted.

 ‘I’m feeling drained, Spence.’ I sighed, nuzzling into the cotton of his cardigan and relaxing even further at the scents that emitted from the fabric—softener, his cologne and a faint trace of mint from the shower he’d taken earlier that morning.

 ‘If you’re too tired, there’s no shame in saying so. Emily, actually everyone, would understand if you needed a quick power nap, honey.’ He kissed my hair, his other hand resting at the bottom of my neck and rubbing the flesh there—he knew I carried a lot of tension in that particular area.

 A soft groan fell from my lips as he kneaded the knots out of my flesh, my bones practically melting as he continued.

 ‘Hmm,’ I murmured, trying to focus, but it was hard when I felt so calm and relaxed to the point of wanting to sleep, ‘no it’s okay, I’m not that bad yet. I promise.’

 It was something we’d talked about before I’d returned from maternity leave—he knew my stubbornness often led to me pushing myself too far before the baby, and now I was running on no sleep it was likely to get worse due to my heightened emotions. He proposed that we come up with a deal—if I ever felt too tired, or like I needed a few hours to recuperate then I had to tell him and not push myself too far.

 This deal had been proposed after I’d been taking care of our precious baby boy for thirty-six hours straight with no sleep. I’d practically been a zombie when Spence came home from a case and when he’d offered to take the baby so I could get some much needed sleep I’d nearly bitten his head off, insisting I could do it. I’d then promptly burst into tears because I’d snapped at my husband when all he was trying to do was help, and because I was so exhausted and all the emotions chose that moment to break free.

 The next day after I’d slept for twelve hours straight, he’d told me it was common for new mothers to feel like they weren’t doing enough and they often felt like they couldn’t ask for help, even from their spouses. The knowledge had soothed me, as had his assurance that I was doing a good job, and that admitting I needed some time for myself was okay. That’s when he’d made me promise to not push it too far, and it now transferred to the field now I was back at work.

 ‘Okay,’ he kissed my hair again and I lifted my head up, my lips pursed for a kiss. I heard him chuckle lightly before he complied, his lips soft and warm against my own. I sighed, the pleasant zing his lips always inspired shooting through me from my head all the way down to my toes.

 ‘I love you, Spencer Reid.’ I told him, the sparkle and adoration in his eyes made my heart expand in my chest—it’d been like that for five years now and I didn’t see it ever dissipating.

 ‘I love you, Y/N Reid.’ He kissed my forehead and we stayed there for a few moments longer, appreciating the quiet tranquility of the moment before we reluctantly agreed to join the team in the briefing room.

 //

 ‘This unsub is replicating fairytales.’ I said as Morgan opened the book we’d bought back from the crime scene and slid it into the middle of the table so everyone could see.

 ‘Danielle was the replication of Snow White. After we discovered this, we also found an apple underneath her bed that had been bitten into. It was bagged for evidence and they’re going to try and pull the teeth imprints, but my guess is it’s going to be a match to the victim.’ I pulled out a chair, scooting close enough to Spencer so that I could smell his cologne.

 ‘Denise’s death is tied to Sleeping Beauty.’ Alvez slid the book he’d bought back next to the other, ‘we found a miniature spindle wheel underneath her bed next to a few drops of what we assume to be the victims blood. We’ve asked the M.E. To see if there are any wounds on Denise’s fingers that look like they could’ve been made on a spindle wheel.’

 ‘Well this is good, in the sense that we can predict what fairytale the unsub is going to replicate next, but it doesn’t help us with identifying the next victim.’ Tara said, looking over to the clear board at the head of the room, which showcased the crime scene and victim’s pictures.

 ‘There has to be something, other than appearance, that these women have in common.’ Alvez commented, twirling his pen between his fingers.

 ‘And you would be correct, newbie.’ I smiled at the nickname— Alvez had been on the team for almost two years now, yet Garcia still called him that, ‘both women were part of a fairytale online reading club.’

 ‘Are there any other women in the club who look like the first two victims?’ Prentiss asked.

 ‘Great minds think alike my dear Emily, pictures and addresses of the three women who share similar appearances have been sent to your tablets.’

 Our iPad’s beeped before she’d even finished her sentence and we all looked at the pictures, noting their characteristics were eerily similar to Danielle and Denise.

 ‘We should contact the women to warn them and assign them each a protective detail.’ Spence said as I observed the pictures with my lips pursed, hoping I’d have a brain wave and be able to pinpoint a connection. The Sheriff left the room to assign that responsibility to some uniform officers.

 ‘We know who he’s likely going after, but we haven’t figured out why or how he’d have a connection to this—.’ I paused a thought echoing through my brain so astoundingly fast that I felt a little light headed, ‘what if the unsub is a partner to one of these girls? And he’s killing them this way because he resents his partner’s love for this and he’s mocking her?’

 ‘That’s a good idea— maybe one of these girls cheated on him and he’s disparaging her idea of a happy ending?’ Tara added.

 ‘Garcia, have any of these three women recently gotten divorced?’ Spence asked.

 ‘Yes, Regina Kingston, the creator of the book club filed for divorce ten days ago. It hasn’t been finalized yet, but the paperwork was finalized and submitted eight days ago.’ Garcia reeled off, her voice coated with realization.

 ‘That’s the stressor.’ Alvez said as we all begun to stand from around the table.

 ‘Garcia,’ Emily started but our I.T genius cut her off and assured us his name and home address had been sent to us already.

 We all geared up, adding our bullet proof vests and making sure our guns were sufficiently loaded, should they be necessary in his capture. I bit back a yawn as we made our way to the cars—now was not the time to not be one hundred percent focused. We had an unsub to detain, and so I slapped my cheeks a few times during the drive, to make sure I was definitely awake.

 //

 Another yawn fell from my mouth; I’d lost count of how many times I’d done so since we’d got on the jet.

 ‘Woah momma, why are you still awake? I thought you would have dropped off as soon as we got on here.’ Derek commented, his signature smile on his face but the concern in his eyes was just as prominent.

 ‘I tried, every time I close my eyes I keep seeing flashes of the things I need to do when I get home.’ I sighed, though a small bright smile formed on my face when my husband took a seat next to me.

 ‘How is little Gideon Derek?’ JJ asked, taking a seat next to Morgan, ‘do you have anymore pictures?’

 I grinned, my face lighting up at the mention of our little bundle of joy, ‘I have around a hundred new ones I took before we left for this case.’

 I handed her my phone and she scrolled through the images, her smile growing at each new one. Morgan couldn’t help joining in after a while, unable to resist pictures of his godson. I’d caught a glimpse of his home background earlier and I was pretty sure it was the picture JJ had taken of Derek holding the baby for the first time at the hospital. He was a big softie, no matter how hard he tried to appear the opposite.

 I was bought out of my thoughts by Spence’s arm wrapping around my shoulders. I cuddled up into his side, eagerly snuggling into his warmth; I took a deep breath, his familiar and comforting scent relaxing me down to my bones. The voices around me became unfocused as I fell further and further into unconsciousness, the endless list of tasks that had been plaguing me before disappearing now that I was in the arms of my husband. I registered was the low vibration of Spence’s voice as he talked to JJ and Morgan, and the feel of his lips as he kissed my hair. The last thought that filtered through my mind before I surrendered to sleep was how lucky I was to have a husband as amazing as Spencer, a son as wonderful as Gideon and a family as incredible as the people that made up the B.A.U.

 A/N: This one came to me after I watched the episode where JJ returns after maternity leave and has trouble staying awake without being able to drink caffeine. I kind of like how it turned out, I hope you did too!

[originalwinnercheesecake]

Chain of Iron theories: Who wrote that Phrase

Okay so as we know after TDA’s Ty goes to the Scholomance Academy to train. While he is there Livy notices a phrase carved into his headboard with no name but the year 1904 underneath it. She reads the phrase out to Ty “I did not chose this life”. Chain of Iron is set to began in late 1903 early 1904 so we may see the character go away in CHOI. But here’s the thing, the Scholomance Academy was closed down at that time. So that residencey had to have been used for something else. It is a remote and private castle located in the heart of an steep mountain enclouser, Yes? It was most definitely not a mall or a theme park. Now as always I have theories as to who the person is, but this time it is a little different. See many of my other theory posts have had a common reason or “why” as to “why” I theorized this character. But since we do not know what the Academy is being used for, I have a different “Why” for every theorized “Who”

Theory 1.) The “Who” is James. The “Why” is his little secret.

So James story line in CHOI (besides he love triangle) is that he is starting to develop new powers, is having nightmares, and he fears he my be the killer. You know the killer who is set to kill 5 other Shadowhunters. What if one of them is someone James loves? The guilt of that could drive him to turn himself in. He is sentenced and sent to the old Academy for imprisonment (he did not go to silent city because no one believed Brother Zachariah would allow his own nephew to be locked up). When the real killer resurfaced again The Merry Thieves realize it wasn’t James and go on a quest to find him and break him out.

Theory 2.) The “Who” is Matthew. The “Why” is his addiction.

Let’s say for a moment that Matthew does not get turned into a downworlder, and lets say he also does not get his marks stripped. Well there is still the issue of his alcoholism and how things are set to get “worse before they get better” for him. We know he buys a car and starts driving it around with Cordelia in his passenger seat. Alcohol plus driving equals a very very large, giant. NO-NO. let’s say they are in a crash and Cordelia get hurt. Cordelia who is the little sister of the man who’s cruel taunts caused Matthew to doubt his mothers loyalty to the family, which led to his “sin”. Cordelia who is Matthew’s very close friend and whom he would never want to hurt. Matthew drinks so much because he believes it will make him to tired to “sin” again. IF he hurts someone (Cordelia) while drunk.... well it would be a poetically tragic way to send Matthew to Rock bottom. And once you’re at rock bottom you can either stay or try and climb out.

Theory 3.) The “Who” is Thomas. The “Why” is that he has been classified as “at risk” and sent away for “his protection”

Okay so we have all read “A Lightwood Christmas Carol”. It is the short Nova where Gideon, trying to find a way to help Thomas, also thinks of Jesse’s health troubles and wonders if they could of inherited any kind of ailment generically from Benedict. Benedict’s journals reveal nothing and Will tells Gideon that Thomas will get better in times and to drop his paranoia. But this whole nova submitted the idea in peoples minds that Jesse and Thomas’s conditions are linked. Now we know that Jesse is a piece of Belial’s plans; he is Belial’s “anchor”. This, along with the killer, is suspicious because shadowhunters are supposed to be impervious to demonic influences due to protection rituals put on them at birth. Now I am no doctor, but don’t people who have bigger health issues real young sometimes need to get modified versions of vaccines/medical work done, or need to wait a bit longer to have it done. Little kids get sick a lot and the silent brothers cannot fix everything. This could have potentially happened to several shadowhunters. What if something happens to make the clave wary of / turn on them. Thomas is not the killer, but what if the killer is another Shadowhunter who was sick as a kid and had to have the protection ritual done a bit differently. What if the clave blame that for how Belial was able to take control. Then the Clave (in all their cruelty and “wisdom”) decided that it is a “necessary precaution”  to round up everybody else who needed this done and send them to the old Scholomance Academy until Belial is defeated. We know Thomas will do “something dangerous” in CHOI. He wold never want to leave his friends during such a dangerous time, especially not after what happened to Barbara. Maybe its putting together a break out team in effort to get back t London?

Theory 4.) The “Who” is Alastair. The “Why” is a bunch of reason.

The Carstairs sure picked a great time to move to London, Huh? What with their family situation,  the pregnancy, the plague, Cordelia and Alastair’s complicated love lives, and now an impending Serial Killer. This is another it will only get worse situation. Most people theorize that at least one (and a few theorize both) Carstair’s parents will die in CHOI, and which ever one it is, it will make the situation much worse. This family is going to fall apart as a unit. How are Cordelia and Alastair both fairing in London? Cordelia loves it, Before she was a lonely girl who talked to her reflection so that she wouldn’t be complete alone.  She wanted move to London to be with James and Lucie and make a bunch of new friends, and that is exactly what she got. True Her relationship with James is imperfect (stupid Gracelet, Stupid Belial) but she still has a lot going for her in London and is unlikely to leave. Alastair wanted to move to London because he wanted to be with Charles in person again. That did not go so well and now they are broken up. With that over Alastair would really like to have a relationship with Thomas. But at the end of Chain of Gold Alastair’s past cruelties were brought back to light, Thomas said he was done with Alastair, and all evidence states that Thomas will be mad for a long time. Alastair has already thought about leaving London before during the plague. IF things worsen, and then he learns the truth about Cordelia and James Marriage, he could easily decide the best thing for him and Cordelia is to cut their losses and forget about London and the people in it, IF this happens then he is in for one more bad shock, because no matter what happens between her and James I cannot imagine Cordelia agreeing. IF Alastair leaves he will leave alone.

Maybe he joins whatever is at at the Shcolomance Academy as a way to further avoid building any more personal relationships.While all of this sounds like a choice, and the writer clearly claims that they were there not by their choice, lets remember that one of the flaws Alastair needs to get over is that he doesn’t take responsibility for his own choice. Always blaming the world for his own behavior. He won’t stay forever. He will eventually hear something about London that will push him to go back, and push him to try and genuinely make up for what he has said and done. If Matthew is someone who is still sliding down to rock bottom, Alastair is someone who hit rock bottom long ago and now is begging to climb out. y

[imagineaworlds]

I Love You (Part Thirty) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual​

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing, murder-- everything Criminal Minds. Mentions of Dom/sub relationship.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 14765

Timeline: Season 4 Episode 18. A month after part twenty-nine.

Hotch’s hand was slowly running up and down my arm as I slept. After a few moments, he started whispering my name and I subconsciously realized that he was trying to wake me up. I groaned and rolled over onto my other side so that I was facing him. His thumb caressed my cheek lightly and I smiled against his touch. It was so early, way too early for anything but a case, but he didn’t seem to rush me awake, so I just continued to enjoy his touch and nothing else. While his hand drifted down to my arm to start gently squeezing and massaging, I leaned over and kissed his shoulder.

“I have to go out,” he whispered, still massaging my arm. I pouted and looked around his shoulder to see the clock on his nightstand. It was still the middle of the night. What the hell was he doing going out so late? I figured that if he was waking me up and seemed in a rush, it was likely due to another case, so I started to move like I was going to get ready for the day. Hotch grabbed my arm gently. “It’s not a case,” he said as though he had read my mind. “An old friend of mine called… He needs to see me; says that it’s important.”

I squinted and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. “Why does he need to meet with you right now?”

Hotch shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’ll tell you when I get back.” I nodded and laid back down. He kissed my forehead and tried to lean back up, but I caught the back of his head with my hand and brought him in for a kiss on the lips. “I love you. Try to fall back asleep.”

“I love you. Be safe.”

He pecked my lips before crawling off the edge of the bed to sneak out of the bedroom. I rolled back over onto my side of the bed, trying to find the darkness and peace behind my eyelids to fall asleep again, but I was already awake and worried about Hotch leaving. Of course, there was no doubt in my mind that he had a real, legitimate reason for leaving. I wasn’t the kind of person to just assume that he was cheating on me or something, because: one, he wouldn’t; two, he wouldn’t have woken me up to tell me he was leaving if he wanted to keep it a secret. But meeting an old friend so late at night and without warning seemed odd, to say the least. The fact that Hotch didn't know what it was about either put me on edge. What if he was in danger? What if he was going to get hurt and I had no idea where he was or who he was with? How was I supposed to sleep as that raced through my head?

I sat up as I heard his car backing out of the driveway, the headlights still off so that he wouldn’t disturb mine or Jack’s rooms. I brought my knees to my chest and hid my face in my palms. There was no reason to be worried about Hotch. None. Right? I was just nervous for nothing. New York still had me shaken up, still six months later. Every time he was out of my sight, I got worried that it would be the last time I would ever see him. I hated that feeling. I wanted it to end soon. I wanted to trust that Hotch was capable of just going to a friend’s house and that I didn’t need to constantly worry about every little thing he did. He was a grown man; he was going to be fine. But I still loved him, and I still worried about him. That would never change.

When the sun started to rise and my alarm went off, I checked my phone again. Hotch still hadn’t reached out. I tried not to think about it as I pushed the covers off my body and went to get dressed before waking up Jack. He was sure to have questions about where his dad was, and I honestly didn’t have any answers for him. I wished that I could look at him and tell him what was going on, but I really didn’t know. I wasn’t even sure how to lie about where his dad was, that was how out of the loop I felt. So, all I did was tell him that his dad needed to leave early for work and that we’d see him at dinner. Thankfully, Jack bought it, and he started getting ready for school.

By the time I dropped Jack off at school and made it to the office, Hotch still hadn’t called or texted. I was really starting to worry. If he wasn’t in his office, then I was going to storm into Garcia’s office and demand that she track his phone, because I wasn’t about to lose him. Not now. Not when I wasn’t there to help him.

Thankfully, though, after I passed Anderson on my way into the bullpen, I could see Hotch up in his office, finishing up a phone call. I let my shoulders fall in relief. Morgan turned in his seat to wish me a good morning, and I responded with a smile as I dropped my things off at my desk. As I walked towards Hotch’s office, I flicked the back of Morgan’s neck playfully, earning the snap of a rubber band against my elbow.

I scoffed. “I’m telling on you,” I teased, making my way up the ramp.

“Snitches get stitches!” he yelled out to me.

“Only if I get caught!” I winked. “Hey,” I walked into Hotch’s office. He looked up from his work on his desk, quickly hiding away whatever it was he had been reviewing and smiled at me. “You didn’t come home last night. Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I’m sorry if I worried you. I was going to call, but I didn’t want to wake you up.” He pushed himself out of his chair, walked about around his desk, and caught me by the waist using his arms. “Are you okay?”

“You had me worried.” I propped myself up on my tiptoes and leaned in for a quick kiss. “I didn’t end up falling back asleep because I thought you would come back or call.”

“I’m so sorry.”

I shook my head understandingly. “I get it. Did you talk to your friend?” I asked while pushing his hair back since he hadn’t run a brush through it yet. He nodded and kissed my forehead. “Care to share with the class?”

He smirked against my skin before pulling back. “Close the door,” he ordered. I nodded, sliding out of his arms to do as I was told. Hotch closed the blinds then met me on the couch. “I went to go see my old unit chief. He’s dying, and his last wish was to speak with me.”

My eyes softened and I ran my fingers on my left hand through his hair. “You’re a good man and friend for getting up in the middle of the night like that to go see him,” I complimented with a small smile. “But why didn’t he send for you sooner?”

Hotch looked over at the door and the blinds again to make sure that no one could walk in or see us talking. Whatever he had to say, it needed to stay between the two of us, and I was alright with that. “Back when I first started working at the BAU, I worked for a man named Tom Shaunessy. He taught me everything I know about profiling and being a good unit chief. In ‘98, we got a case where the Unsub was killing random couples on the highway, and I was the lead profiler for the very first time. We tried to build a loose profile based on what we had, but his M.O. was scattered, his victimology was unpredictable, and there was never any evidence. He got himself involved with the media, though, and they titled him The Reaper. And you know how it goes after the media names them, they usually get cocky and big headed. The Reaper, he started leaving symbols or messages at his scenes in order to taunt us. He killed well over a dozen people, and we never caught him. One day, Shaunessy came in and he sent us all home. He told us that the case was over, the trail had run cold, and we needed to move onto more prevalent cases. He was my boss, so I didn’t question it, and I haven’t even thought about it once in… years…” He looked over at the door again. “Shaunessy called me last night to tell me that he made a deal with The Reaper ten years ago to make the killings stop. We would stop looking for him and he would stop killing. That was the deal between Shaunessy and The Reaper, but now the Shaunessy’s dead, the contract will become null and void once The Reaper finds out.”

“Meaning that The Reaper will start killing again,” it dawned on me as I said it.

Hotch nodded. “He passed the case onto me.”

“Aaron—” I hesitated.

If Shaunessy was half as good as Hotch cracked him up to be, then it meant that he was the best of the best— more so than Rossi or Gideon ever were. The fact that Shaunessy and the BAU couldn’t catch The Reaper ten years ago was enough cause for concern. Would Hotch have to make the same deal? Or would we be able to catch him? Either way, it wasn’t fair of Shaunessy to dump this on Hotch’s lap. I didn’t like that this had him so shaken up. Cases like this hardly ever made Hotch blink twice, but now he was sitting across from me, scared to even tell me the truth. 

“I know, I know,” he insisted. “But what choice do I have?”

“To not put yourself in the middle of this mess!”

“So, do what? Turn a blind eye and let him start killing again? Or do I get ahead of this guy and I finally catch him?”

“Yes, turn a blind eye. If it’s unsafe, then… yeah…”

“Why are you saying that?” he cocked a brow of curiosity, though his tone was more accusing. “You’d never turn down a case, especially if you knew that it was bad and important.”

I pulled my touch away from him entirely. It was a valid question, I supposed. In his shoes, I would have asked the same thing because it was so out of character for either of us to dodge or turn down a case—especially after I had basically just sent him down to Dallas on his own for a bit, even though he didn’t want to go. I had to tell him the truth. That was our deal. We didn’t keep secrets from each other because communication was of the utmost importance in our relationship. But it was starting to get tiresome to keep explaining to him that I was worried about him. That conversation always ended the same way every time. I’d start by telling him that I was still worried about him since New York, he’d counter by arguing that he was fine, and then I’d tell him that didn’t matter because I loved him and I was worried about him, and then it would end with him holding me and telling me he loved me. I’d forget about my worries for a bit, but then it would all come crashing back, and the cycle would continue. But he asked. His question was valid, and now I had to tell him the truth, unfortunately.

“If this guy got the best of Shaunessy, what’s to stop him from doing the same to you?” I asked, rather than answering first.

“I won’t take any deal, Y/N. You know that. I’m going to find this guy, and I’m going to put him away for good.”

“See how you’re saying ‘I’? Hotch, this isn’t just your case. We’re all here, and if you do this— which I don’t think you should— we’ll all help you. You can’t do this alone.”

“I have to.”

I raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

“When I turn down his deal, because I know that he will make one, I can’t drag any of you into the mess. Shaunessy and I started this ten years ago; I can finish it.”

“Aaron. No.” I shook my head and stood from the couch. “I’m putting my foot down on this one. I can’t let you do this. If you think that it’s dangerous for us, then it’s dangerous for you. You’re not fucking doing it.”

“Y/N, stop it—”

“No!” I shouted a little too loud. Both of our gazes turned to the door and windows to make sure no one would come in to disrupt us. I took a moment to breathe. “Shaunessy was scared of this guy. You seem scared of this guy. I’m not doing this with you, Hotch. I’m not going to stay up every night for who knows how long while you’re off in Boston, chasing some guy who has had years to build up his thirst for blood. I’m not doing that to myself or Jack— or even the team. I can hardly sleep as it is. I worry about you constantly. If you’re going to do this, you need to have the team helping you. That’s my final offer, I swear, Aaron. So help me—”

“Fine!” he also shouted a little too loud, jumping out of his seat. “Just stop!” He walked over to me and put his hands on my face, “Stop…”

I let my eyes fall shut and I pressed my face against his chest. “I’ll always fight for you, Aaron. I made that promise to you a while ago. I’ll never stop fighting for you, but I can’t always be worried about you. Does that make sense?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m sorry.” He hugged my shoulders, holding me close to his chest. “But I worry about you, too. And I don’t want you to get mixed up in a mess that I made.”

“Your messes are my messes, Aaron Hotchner. They always have been and always will be. That’s a part of loving you.”

I could feel him smiling as he kissed the top of my head. “Okay,” he gave in. “I love you.”

Since Hotch and I argued about The Reaper case, it had been a few days. JJ still didn’t have any new cases for us, but that didn’t stop Hotch from sitting in his office late at night and getting there early. He was coming home around midnight every night now, and he was leaving around five or six. Honestly, I don’t even think he was going to sleep. He was probably coming home just to make sure that Jack and I were safe, and to make sure that I was sleeping alright, and then he was leaving. I was worried, and I wasn’t really sleeping, but I feigned it all for Hotch. I was hoping that he’d get some sleep soon, or maybe he’d just spend some more time at home. Jack missed him. He was staying up as late as he could, procrastinating on his homework so that his dad could help him. Even if I tried to sit down and help him, he wouldn’t heed my advice. It was hard for him to know that his dad was in town, but he still didn’t get to see him.

On Wednesday, things still weren’t better. Our ten o’clock meeting came and went with no new cases, and all of my reports were done. Now it was a waiting game for something interesting to happen. Emily and I set up a trash can at the end of the bullpen, and what started as a paper airplane race quickly devolved into just crumpling up pieces of paper and seeing how many we could throw into the trash can from different distances. Once Morgan finished his work, he joined in, too.

“Y/N,” Hotch called calmly from his office. I looked up from my work to see what he needed, yet all he did was nod sideways towards his desk, gesturing that he needed to speak with me privately.

“Ooh, someone’s in trouble,” Morgan teased.

“Bite me,” I flicked the back of his neck again, just like I had the other day, while passing by his desk. This time, though, he didn’t have a rubber band ready to retaliate, so I made a slight run for it before he could shoot one at me. When I was at Hotch’s office, I closed the door behind me, and made my way over to his desk. He was standing, so I stayed on my feet, too. “What’s up?”

He threw a case file towards me onto his desk. “He struck last night.”

I carefully eyed him through my lashes as I grabbed the file and started looking through the first page. The Reaper. Hotch knew that this was coming, he had anticipated it ever since Shaunessy’s death a couple of days ago, but I didn’t think it would come this fast. It had to be The Reaper considering everything Hotch told me about him. He killed couples on the highway, always overkill with the female, and he left a drawing of an eye on the side of the car using the victims’ blood. This was The Reaper’s work. No one else’s. And, honestly, it terrified me. It meant that Hotch was finally being roped into something that was dangerous. We always knew that Unsubs could get to us one way or another, but this guy, whoever he was, clearly knew how to get to the BAU. He did it with Shaunessy, and now he was doing it with Hotch. I didn’t want us to become targets. But maybe that was the incentive to find him faster.

“I wanted to tell you first because I want to know if you’re still convinced that we need to do this together.”

“I am.”

“No, Y/N. I need you to look at everything in there, and then I need you to look me in the eye and tell me that this is our best move.”

I flipped through every page, taking in every detail of the case almost as fast as Reid would have. This guy wasn’t any worse than half of the cases I had worked while with the BAU, but what was terrifying about him was the control he clearly had over the feds and the media. Hotch was a stubborn man, and he wasn’t going to let The Reaper roll over him like he did with Shaunessy, but the fact that The Reaper managed to do it in the first place… that made him more dangerous than any Unsub I had ever come across. That might sound ridiculous but think about it. Most of the time, the Unsubs we went after were scared of us because they didn’t want to get caught. Even if they were dominant, cocky assholes, they were still playing a game or a dance around us to ensure that they wouldn’t get caught. But they always did. That was why we were good at our jobs. But then this guy came along, and he told Shaunessy: I’ll stop killing if you stop hunting me. And that deal sounded sweet because Shaunessy felt like he was saving lives. The Reaper had ten years to himself after making that deal. Ten years of letting his urge to kill eat him alive. Now that Shaunessy was gone, Boston was going to turn into a bloodbath, and when Hotch was inevitably going to turn down any deal thrown his way, it was surely going to make The Reaper spiral. This was only going to get worse. That was why we were scared. That was why we were terrified.

I looked up at Hotch. “We do this together.”

He stared at me for a moment, getting a read on my face while searching my eyes. I held true, showing no fear, despite the fact that it was bubbling in my stomach. I didn’t want him to become a target. I was petrified by the idea of losing him to this maniac while having just survived New York. But I couldn’t let Hotch know that. Ever. If he saw any sign of weakness, he’d pull the case from the BAU, and he’d go down to Boston to do it himself.

“Okay,” he finally gave in. “We’ll go to Boston, then.”

I silently thanked him for trusting me enough to listen to my advice. The other day, when we argued about it, I thought that he wasn’t listening, and that the first chance he’d get, he’d be gone to solve this on his own. But he got the case file, and he immediately confided in me. I was grateful for that. It went hand-in-hand with not keeping secrets from each other, another thing I was appreciating. We had grown so much as individuals, but even more as a couple over the past year and a half or so. It was a relief that he could trust me and talk to me like this. After everything we had been through, it was honestly a relief that he still kept me around.

“I’ll tell the team to meet in the boardroom,” I offered.

“There’s no time. We need to go straight to the jet.”

I nodded and turned on my heels to gather the team. “Grab your gear,” I told the bullpen as I hurried down the ramp.

“Finally!” Morgan cheered, spinning around in his chair.

“Two people are dead, Morgan. Maybe you shouldn’t cheer?”

Morgan grabbed his go-bag, threw it over his shoulder, and stood up. “Finally,” he said less enthusiastically before winking playfully.

I rolled my eyes. “You’re incorrigible.” I grabbed my go-bag. I maneuvered around Emily and Reid as we all started making our way towards the doors.

On the plane, Hotch immediately dove into what he knew about The Reaper. Everyone thought that we’d have a few minutes to settle down first, but Hotch collected everyone around the four seat table, handed out the case files Garcia had sent to the jet, and started reviewing what he knew from the initial investigation back in the 90’s. The entire time, I watched him closely. I kept up with what was saying, but I was more concerned about the fact that he looked more driven and tunnel visioned into a case than I had ever seen before. It was worrying. Hotch was a hard working man by nature, and he took each and every case as seriously as possible, leaving room for us to still be us outside of work, but he had never looked like this. As I stared at him, he didn’t glance once at me. The human body instinctually recognizes when it’s being watched, so there’s a natural, automatic need to check your surroundings when you get that feeling on the back of your neck. But Hotch didn’t look at me. He didn’t even look at the team. He was just flipping through the pages again and again. It reminded me of the time when Elle was taken hostage in Texas, and all I could focus on was rereading the case file over and over again until Hotch finally stopped me.

So, I did something unexpected.

When everyone was looking down, I reached up and put a hand over Hotch’s. He froze. After a short moment, he looked at me. For the first time on that flight, he stared into my eyes, and he smiled. I squeezed his hand gently before retreating entirely to look back down at the case. Everyone got back to work, too. They obviously saw what I did, even though I hadn’t intended for them to, so they tried to pretend like they weren’t watching.

The Reaper, according to Hotch, was all of the following: Dominant, proud, overconfident, highly intelligent, and news obsessed. Honestly, he sounded like every other Unsub. Issues arose, however, when he started losing the thrill of each kill, so he had to get more creative. He went to the police—specifically Shaunessy—and made that deal to have them stand down in exchange for his “retirement”, which gave him more power. He won back in the 90’s because he had the upper hand. Now that Shaunessy, the only man who truly knew that The Reaper had won, just died, he needed to start killing again in order to gain attention, and probably just to keep himself busy. A hiatus as long as his likely had him itching at his own skin. He was a wild psychopath on the loose with a thirst for blood, which meant that this would only get worse until we could capture him.

“There isn’t much here,” Morgan said after a few minutes. “How did you guys build this profile?”

Hotch sighed. “Technically, we didn’t. This is everything I’ve worked on over time. Back in ’98, this was my first case as lead profiler, but Shaunessy sent us home before we could get much work done. So, now we have to do it.” He closed the file in his hands. “To start, I want Y/N and Reid to come to the recent crime scene with me. Prentiss, Rossi, and Morgan, start building the profile at the precinct. JJ, we need to contain this in the media before it gets him off—”

“I’ll shut it down faster than you can say ‘Boston’,” she said with a smile.

Hotch nodded a “thank you” to her before sighing and resting his head against the side of the plane. He had been rushing to discuss the profile, but now that we had done everything we could, I could tell that he was mentally and emotionally drained. That was what he got for pushing himself too hard. Imagine what would’ve happened if he did all of this on his own.

Over the span of five years, The Reaper managed to kill twenty-one people. By the time Hotch got involved, eighteen people were already dead, and under his watch, three people died. Now that the Reaper was back, two people were already dead. This wasn’t going to end anytime soon. Hotch was already exhausted, and The Reaper had only just begun. Since Hotch knew the truth about Shaunessy’s deal, he had to be vigilant on this case, making sure that it didn’t get personal. If The Reaper found a way to get in contact with us, there was no doubt he would try to offer up a similar deal. Hotch didn’t like letting the bad guys get away. He didn’t like when they died, and he didn’t like when they got away. Therefore, there was no chance in hell Hotch was going to give into any deal. He told me that himself. What terrified me most was that Hotch’s defiance would end with The Reaper going after him… What was I supposed to do then?

When we landed in Boston, Hotch, Reid, and I took a separate vehicle from everyone else. We headed straight to the latest crime scene, as planned, while the others headed to the precinct to get settled. Technically, we weren’t on this case yet. Hotch had gotten wind of this recent crime scene, and he knew that it had to do with The Reaper, so he leapt at the chance. However, this still wasn’t our case. Rules were rules. Hotch was always a rule follower, especially when it came to jurisdiction. If we weren’t invited onto the case, then we had no right to be there. But Hotch hoped that by asking in person, there was a chance that the lead detective on the case, O’Mara, would bring us on to help.

Hotch and I were in the front seat during the drive. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught how white his knuckles were turning as he kept squeezing the life out of the steering wheel. I had never seen him so tense before. I was really worried. If this got personal for him, it was my duty to tell Rossi to pull him off the case. Right? I mean, when cases got too personal for me, Hotch immediately benched me—or at least tried. Especially since New York, there was no way in hell I was going to let Hotch cloud his judgement by making this a personal thing. If he didn’t ease up soon, I was going to talk to Rossi… Or, if it came to it, I’d call Strauss. That wouldn’t exactly make Hotch too happy, but I would do what was necessary in order to protect him. I understood suddenly how he felt about me. Fuck.

He parked the car outside of the yellow tape. “Wait here. I’ll talk to the lead detective about asking us to join the case. We know each other from the first wave of cases. If he talks to just me, he might be more inclined to invite us in.” Hotch got out of the car, leaving me and Reid in silence.

As we waited and watched Hotch head over to O’Mara, I took note of what I could see at the crime scene from a distance. The victims’ car was taped off up ahead. The media was standing around the tape, trying to get a better look at the bodies inside the car and the blood painted on the driver’s side door. There was a trail of blood on the pavement. It had been washed away somewhat by the rain, but the general outline of the blood was clear enough to indicate that one of the bodies had been dragged from the street to the car. Probably the driver.

That was all I could see from where we were, though. Without getting a closer look, I wouldn’t be able to deduce much. I couldn’t even see what the blood spatter on the car’s exterior looked like, I just knew that it was there. And like he could read my mind, Hotch looked over to the car, then waved us over. Reid and I got out, ducked under the yellow tape, then strided over to Hotch and the detective.

“Detective O’Mara, this is Dr. Spencer Reid and Agent Greenaway. The rest of my team is setting up at the precinct.” Hotch gestured to each of us respectively. I shook the detective’s hand, then watched as he tried to shake Reid’s, only to be met with a polite wave. I snorted lightly. Hotch and Reid both glared at me. “Do you mind if we take a look around?”

O’Mara shook his head. With his thick Boston accent, he responded, “Take as long as you need, do whatever you need to do. I trust you, Aaron.”

“Thanks, Mike.”

The three of us turned to look at the car and the bodies still inside it while O’Mara ordered his men out of the way. Reid started reviewing the victims’ information aloud, but I stepped away to think on my own while canvassing the car. As I had seen before from a distance, there was blood trailing from crime scene markers 3 and 7 all the way to the car door. Drawn onto the silver paint was The Reaper’s symbol in blood. I recognized it from the files Hotch showed me when we initially discussed The Reaper. I didn’t know what the symbol was, though. It was an eye with lines coming out of it—almost like eyelashes… or like the protruding lines Jack would draw on a sun doodle to represent the sunrays. Maybe it meant we were being watched? I wasn’t sure.

I looked into the car, leaning in through the window to get a look at the bodies. Hotch came up behind me and handed me a pair of blue rubber gloves. I silently thanked him. While sliding the gloves on, I took note of the male victim’s rolled up left sleeve, revealing that he had a tan line where a watch used to be. According to Reid’s narration, this victim’s name was Evan Harvey. He was a twenty-three year old recent college graduate, traveling to visit his parents with his girlfriend, Nina Hale, nineteen. For a man who was bludgeoned repeatedly, then shot execution style, Evan’s body seemed pretty… intact. I mean, he was hardly recognizable behind all of the blood, but everything else about him looked put together. He was a poster child for a low-risk victim. What stuck out to me the most were the glasses on his face. If The Reaper had beat him with a tool of some kind, Evan’s glasses would’ve been completely shattered, bent, and ruined. They wouldn’t be sitting perfectly on his broken face. So, The Reaper posed him that way. The question was, why?

I stepped out of the way so that Hotch could get a look at Evan while I went around the car to look at Nina in the passenger’s seat. She was in much worse shape than Evan was. His face was the only thing that had been destroyed by The Reaper, but when it came to Nina, every part of her was destroyed. He had started by stabbing her forty-six times. Everywhere from her shoulders, breasts, stomach, even her thighs, were completely torn up from the overkill. And then he slashed her throat to finally end the torture.

“Reid, look at this,” Hotch said as he leaned out of the car. I looked up shortly to see what they were talking about. Hotch had grabbed Evan’s wallet from his pocket to inspect something. “The glasses.”

Reid ducked down to look at Evan, Nina, me, then he stood and looked at Evan’s wallet again. “His eyesight’s perfect. He doesn’t need to wear glasses.”

Hotch sighed. “The Reaper always took something from each of his victims so that he could leave it on the next, that way we knew he was responsible. It was another way of claiming dominance and power. He took Evan’s watch and left George Foyet’s glasses.”

“George Foyet?” Reid inquired.

“The Reaper’s last victim.”

I stood and circled the car again. Crime scene markers 1 and 6 represented the two flat tires on the car. I bent down to get a good look. I glanced around and asked one of the uniforms if they had a carjack. He nodded and raced off to grab one from the trunk of his police car, then returned to hand it to me. I knelt down and started jacking up the car so that I could get a quick look at the tires before Hotch could yell at me for doing so. I didn’t need it to go very far. The second I could see under the tire, I realized what had happened, so I set the car back down and handed the jack back to the cop.

“Nails,” I said, standing up. Hotch and Reid looked at me with curious faces. “There are about seven different five-inch drywall nails embedded in the tire back here.”

Telling by the fact that there were so many nails, and they all seemed to strike both back tires, I was inclined to assume that this was on purpose. The Reaper probably planted the nails in the road, then waited for a random car to pass in order to let fate choose his victims.

“Reid, do you know what the drawing on the car means, if anything?” I asked.

He stepped back to get a better look at it. “The Eye of Providence.”

“Explain.”

He perked up at the opportunity to explain something—since the chance hardly ever arose. “The U.S. Government adopted the symbol in order to incorporate it into the Great Seal in 1782 with the words, ‘Annuit Coeptis’ inscribed underneath. You can still see it on the one-dollar bill today.”

“What does Annuit Coeptis mean?” Hotch asked.

“It’s Latin for fate.”

“The word ‘FATE’ was written on the wall in blood at the Foyet crime scene back in ’98.”

“My best bet, then, is that The Reaper sees himself as the personification of fate.”

“Maybe. But, then, why would he make a mistake like leaving Foyet alive?”

“He survived?’ I asked in shock. After seeing the brutality of this crime scene, I couldn’t understand how anyone could possibly survive anything like this…

“Yeah,” Hotch nodded. “Him and his girlfriend, Amanda, were attacked in their car when driving home from a date night. Foyet told police that The Reaper stopped them by pretending to be a lost tourist in need of directions. He stabbed Amanda and stabbed Foyet thirty-two times each.”

“Thirty-two? And he lived?” Reid seemed just as shocked as I was. The likelihood that Foyet could have survived that was next to impossible. He was incredibly lucky. “How did they save him in time before he bled out?”

“The Reaper called the police from the crime scene. There was an off-duty ambulance nearby, so they raced to resuscitate him.”

“He called during each crime?” I interrogated.

Hotch nodded.

“But he didn’t make a call this time.”

“He must’ve learned his lesson last time,” Reid said.

“Hotch,” O’Mara called, hurrying over, “there’s a reporter over there that wants to talk to you. It’s Roy Colson.”

Hotch sighed and silently left to go handle it. I didn’t understand. Hotch didn’t handle the media because that was JJ’s job. Why would some reporter ask specifically for Hotch, especially when we were busy like this, and Hotch was taking all the pressure?

A few minutes later, when Hotch was done talking with the reporter, he walked back in our direction, yet he didn’t stop until he got to the car. Reid and I took the hint. We headed to the car, too, getting back into our seats that we had been in when we arrived, and Hotch started driving off. The ride was silent since Hotch was lost in thought, and Spencer and I were busy with adding  our crime scene notes to our files so that we could catch the team up when we would get to the precinct.

When we parked in front of the local police station, Hotch said, “Y/N, when we get inside, I want you to meet up with Morgan and find Foyet for questioning. Last I heard, he went off the grid. You might have to work with Garcia to find him.”

I nodded and headed inside. The team, as expected, was already set up in a boardroom. They had case files and boxes littered around, a fresh, hot coffee pot nearby, and a bulletin board filled with pictures, names, and notes. I sat down next to Morgan. Taking a few minutes to finish up my own notes, I gave Morgan some time to finish what he was working on. After a bit, I asked him if I could borrow his help. He closed his file and looked at me. I explained everything Hotch told me about George Foyet, then said that he wanted us to find Foyet and question him. The issue was, we were going to have to dig to find Foyet, since he went underground.

Morgan immediately called Garcia. I thought it would’ve been fun to figure it out ourselves, but he was being a little lazy, so he wanted to cut corners. Garcia would be able to find Foyet without breaking a sweat.

“Mmm…” she hummed out of curiosity. “I’m gonna have to do some more digging. I’ll call you back when I have something.”

“Thanks, baby girl,” Morgan said.

A few minutes later, after we told Hotch that it would take some time to find Foyet, he insisted that we should give the profile to the local P.D. in the meantime.

I hadn’t actually heard the term “omnivore” used in regards to a profile before. I mean, I knew of it while studying to be a profiler, but I had never heard anyone on the team use it during a case before. We dealt with plenty of omnivores before, sure. But this was different. Since Hotch had been building this profile over the span of years, he was pulling out all the stops. He wanted to sound impressive. He wanted to be impressive. He didn’t want to make it seem like he had just been sitting on his ass since 1998, not doing a damn thing about The Reaper.

The term “omnivore”, in our line of work, referred to a very specific type of psychopath. An omnivore was someone who didn’t choose a specific victim type. They were opportunistic people. If the situation arose for the perfect crime, they would take it. Like The Reaper, for instance. What we saw with Evan Harvey and Nina Hale was due to unfortunate circumstances. He left out nails on the road, then waited around for someone to appear. It didn’t matter who, it just mattered that it happened. It needed to happen because of the fame, not the thirst for blood. Yes, that was always a factor when it came to psychopathic serial killers, but with omnivores, the media and the fame was just as important as quenching that thirst. Because of that narcissistic mindset, it was damn near impossible for omnivores to maintain any kind of close relationship. As always, there were outliers. The Reaper, however, did not pose as an outlier to us. It seemed that his main focus was on the fame and dominating the police. No one would be able to befriend or fall in love with someone like that.

Hotch made it clear that although we were also profiling The Reaper as a Hebephile—someone attracted to younger people, specifically teenagers—that didn’t mean he could get it up. One of the first things any potential profiler would learn was the serial killers who used knives did it because they were impotent. They couldn’t get it up, so they used the penetration of a blade to make up for that. The Reaper loved using knives. We saw the overkill with Nina Hale, and with Amanda, Foyet’s girlfriend. He couldn’t rape them, so he took the next best option. It was important to note that in the profile we gave to the police because we were therefore looking for someone who worked with young girls. A teacher, a coach, a tutor, even a pediatrician. We were especially looking for anyone with a record within the last ten years. There was no way a guy like this hadn’t been arrested previously.

My phone started ringing just as we started wrapping up the profile, I looked to see that it was Garcia. I excused myself from the team. As I stepped away into a private room, I answered the call, not finding enough energy to respond to her sassy pickup line. Maybe I should’ve been snippy enough with her to make her bad news blow over better. She told me the worst thing imaginable: Penelope Garcia couldn’t find George Foyet. There weren’t many times when Garcia couldn’t pull through for us, yet somehow this was one of those times. I didn’t understand. She explained that he had gone completely off the grid, getting rid of his entire past and turning into a ghost. Probably on purpose. I didn’t blame him. If I knew that there was a serial killer out to get me, I’d go underground, too.

“Okay. Thank you, Garcia.”

“You’re welcome.” She hung up without her usual, peppy self.

I sighed and buried my phone in my pocket. I was sorry that I couldn’t match her upbeat personality that afternoon, but trying to keep up with Hotch’s intensity was… well, I was just as exhausted as Hotch was, I was sure.

“What’s wrong?” Hotch asked, stepping into the room and taking note of my worry and confusion.

“Garcia can’t find Foyet,” I admitted. “He’s disappeared entirely in order to hide from The Reaper.”

Hotch shook his head and fished out his phone. “I don’t know how I didn’t think of this sooner…”

“What?”

“I might know someone who knows where Foyet is.”

I perked up slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah. Give me a second to make a call.”

I nodded and stepped out of the room to give him privacy. I leaned against the wall just beside the door frame while biting my nails nervously, watching the team as they talked with some of the uniforms that had questions about the profile they just finished presenting. It only took another minute or so before Hotch knocked on the window on the door. I jumped slightly. As I caught my breath and calmed my nerves, I pushed into the room again.

“So?” I asked.

“I got the address.”

“You want to go?”

He nodded. “You’ll come with me?”

“Always.”

He smiled at me. As I smiled back at him, he stepped forward and kissed my forehead. It was a silent thank you for bearing with him through all of this, but he had to know that I didn’t need a thank you. I loved my job, and I loved him. If something meant a lot to him, I was going to go out of my way to make it mean a lot to me, too. Whatever he needed, whenever.

It was already getting late by the time we arrived at Foyet’s address. When we first spotted him, he was walking home from the grocery store, his arms full of grocery bags. We gave it a moment to make sure the coast was clear. We didn’t want to accidentally lead The Reaper straight to George Foyet. That wouldn’t have been fair to him. But once we were sure that no one was watching us or him, we got out and met him on the sidewalk.

“George Foyet?” I inquired. He looked up at us with worry. “It’s alright. We’re with the FBI.” He relaxed, but only slightly. I showed him my credentials to make him feel better, and Hotch followed my lead. “I’m Agent Greenaway. This is SSA Hotchner.”

“We’ve met once before,” Hotch said. “Do you remember me?”

Foyet nodded. “Of course. You helped save my life.” He glanced over his shoulder, searching up and down the street to make sure no one was watching us. “Would you mind if we got off the street, please?”

Hotch and I nodded. Foyet pushed past us with a limp, leading us up to a house just down the block. He coughed as he struggled to get his keys out of his pocket while juggling his groceries. I offered to take something for him, and he thanked me before handing me one of the brown paper bags. He coughed again as he opened the door. His coughing was deep, with a painful wheeze that told me this wasn’t just a cough from the cold or because he had a cold. This was a serious, dangerous cough.

As we walked into his small home, he guided us to the kitchen where I set the bag down on the counter for him. He quietly thanked me. I nodded as he coughed again. He sat down at the kitchen table, trying to catch his breath while adjusting his glasses on his nose. At least he got a new pair since his attack all those years ago. That was a plus… Right?  Honestly, I couldn’t imagine being in his shoes. I pitied the guy. Getting stabbed as meant times as he did probably affected his health more than we could ever know. And there was no one there to help him. He was all alone, navigating this without any friends, families, or loved ones. I could only hope that if something like that ever happened to me, Hotch and the team could be by my side to support me

“How did you guys find me?” he asked.

“Roy Colson,” Hotch answered.

Foyet’s face fell at the realization. He had been so careful attempting to cover his tracks, but the one person he trusted to keep his identity a secret just betrayed him. “Oh.” He pointed to the medicine on the counter beside me as he started to cough loudly once more. I caught the hint, handing him the orange bottle as quickly as I could. After he popped a pill and swallowed hard, he asked, “Is this going to take long? I don’t want to be late for work.”

“What do you do?” Hotch inquired.

“I’m a freelance computer specialist for the city. I could get fired if I’m late.”

“This won’t take long, I swear,” I said. “We just want you to tell us what you can remember from the night The Reaper attacked you.”

“So, the recent attacks aren’t copycats?”

I shook my head.

“I knew it…” he said woefully. “I was going to propose to Amanda that night… I was going to do it at the restaurant, but I cowered out of it at the last second. We were heading home, and my plan was to do it there. But when we got in the car, he approached our window, pretending to be a lost tourist. I rolled down my window and tried to give him directions… That was when he dropped the map and stabbed me.” He started to cry. “I couldn’t do anything… I just sat there, bleeding out, listening to her scream and cry my name… I wanted to help her—I wanted to save her, but I couldn’t.” He shivered and sobbed. “Do you know how long it takes to stab someone thirty-two times? It felt like years… It felt like I was stuck in that seat every second for years, and there was nothing I could do to make time speed up.” He wiped his tears away with the back of his hand. “I never found the ring. He took it. I thought that he was going to put it on the next victim, but the next one never came…” He looked at me. “What did he put on them?”

“Who?” I asked.

“The most recent victims. You wouldn’t be here unless it was about those murders last night.”

I shuffled on the balls of my feet. “He left your glasses.”

“So, that son of a bitch still has Mandy’s ring?!” He broke down again. “No… You can’t let him put it on another victim. You can’t let him ruin that for me.”

“Mr. Foyet, have you received any odd calls recently?” Hotch interrogated.

He shook his head. “I have multiple residences that I move between randomly so that no one can get ahold of me.”

“What about your work?”

“If they want to talk to me, they have to wait to see me in person.” He grabbed a napkin from the table to use as a tissue. “He likes to kill people in their cars, so I’ve been taking the bus. I’ve done everything in my power to make sure no one can get to me. Especially him.”

“We’ll need your other identities and residences so that we can get ahold of you,” I said.

He nodded. “Okay.”

Hotch pulled out a notepad and pen from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “We can put you under protection to keep you safe.”

“You can’t protect me,” he scoffed. “No one can.” He started scribbling all of his information down. “You have to be careful with this, Agent Greenaway. Please. I’m entrusting you with my life.”

“I understand.” My eyes pouted in pity. I took the notepad from him. “We can check on you tomorrow, if you’d like.”

“No. The more you come around, the more likely he is to find me.”

Fair enough, I thought. The longer we were with him, the more danger he was in, too. So, Hotch and I thanked him for meeting with us, then left to drive back to the precinct. When we arrived, Hotch paused and sighed before getting out of the car. I eyed him warily. As we crossed the street, Hotch approached a man standing just in front of the entrance to the precinct. When he spotted us, he jumped onto his toes.

“Y/N, this is Roy Colson. He and I met in the 90’s. He wrote the biography on The Reaper.” Hotch sighed. “What are you doing here?”

“This arrived at my office this morning,” Roy said while handing a letter preserved in a laminated cover to Hotch. “I didn’t know what else to do, since you asked me to hold the story and whatnot.”

“It’s just a copy of what he sent to the police during the original case,” Hotch said.

“I know. But the only people who have it are the police and The Reaper. So, if the cops didn’t send it to me, we know who did.”

“We’ll run this in the lab for DNA. Thanks, Roy.”

“No problem.”

“We’ll be in touch again, if we need.”

“Got it.”

Hotch and I nodded politely in his direction before continuing on into the precinct. Inside, Hotch gave the letter to Reid, who was supposed to take it with him to the lab to get it tested for DNA while also inspecting its authenticity. As for the rest of us, however, it had already been a long day. We had done so much already. It was imperative that we take a break, get some rest, refresh ourselves so that we could come back the next day to be as good as new. So, Hotch sent everyone to the hotel for the night.

When we got to the hotel, Hotch immediately sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked so tired. He seemed worn out and worried, which was only worrying me, which would only worry him, and the cycle would continue. It wasn’t healthy. The best way to sort this all out was to get him to just talk to me. He would be reluctant to do so, but I’d force it out of him eventually. Aaron Hotchner sucked at keeping secrets from me. He tried multiple times, and each time I found out, I got pissed. Now, this wasn’t necessarily a secret, but he was certainly bottling something up, and I just needed him to get it off his chest.

So, I strolled over to him and brushed my fingers through his hair. He sighed away his worries. I smiled lightly and kissed his head as I moved to straddle his lap, my knees squeezing his thighs. Hotch grabbed onto my ass to keep me steady. We took a moment to just sit calmly and in silence, giving him a chance to sort his thoughts out because we both knew that I would eventually ask him to tell me everything. I could spare some time to let him breathe. I could spare all the time in the world for him. If just holding me in his arms for a few minutes was all it took to let him catch his breath, then I was fine with that. I would always be fine with that.

I wiped my palms over his face, clearing away any stubborn wrinkles he had from thinking too hard. “You okay?”

“I’m really worried about this one, baby,” Hotch said as I kissed his forehead. “This case has always stuck with me. Why?”

“Because you don’t like letting the monsters roam free.”

He shook his head. “There’s something more than that. There’s something… off. It’s just under my nose, and I can’t figure out what it is. I wish I could. But I can’t. I’m worried that my inability to comprehend what’s wrong here is inevitably going to come back to bite me in the ass.”

“You can’t give into all of that fate bullshit, Aaron.” I tucked my hair behind my ears and went to the bathroom to start getting ready for the night.

“I’m just worried…” he muttered under his breath.

The phone started ringing while I was brushing my hair out. “Babe?!” I called out to him, almost like a plea for him to answer it because I couldn’t. I heard him stand from the bed and walk to the phone. It stopped ringing as he answered.

“Hotchner.”

I stepped to lean against the doorframe. Hotch’s side profile was facing me, giving me enough of him to look over in both a lustful and profiling way. I was admiring him and his tight muscles under his shirt. He looked so good like that. His biceps were flexing while holding the phone up to his ear, and it made me want him. But then I saw his pale face. He looked as if he had seen a ghost, and my desire was quickly replaced by worry.

Hotch turned to face me. “You think I’d take that deal?” he asked into the phone. Deal? Deal as in the deal that The Reaper made with Shaunessy? Was that why Hotch looked pale? Did The Reaper call our hotel room? “I don’t care if it’s a good deal.” He was silent again for a bit. “I’ve misjudged you,” he said as his demeanor changed. He was using the profile we built on The Reaper to take the upper hand in this case. Good. “I thought you were smarter than this.” Silence again. “Then you’ve misjudged me.” Hotch’s eyes shot wide and he looked at me suddenly. I pushed off the doorframe and cautiously approached him. His eyes seemed to flutter shut in peace when I put my hands on his shoulders to calm him down. “I don’t make deals. You can threaten me and them all you want, but I’m not going to stop. I’m the guy who hunts guys like you. Threatening them only makes my urge to track you down stronger.” Hotch turned out of my touch so that he could slam the phone down to hang up.

“Was that The Reaper?” I inquired, even though I already knew the answer. Hotch grabbed my hips and pulled me close. He nodded shortly. “He threatened you?”

“And you.”

“Of course, he did,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “But you didn’t take his deal?”

“I told you I wouldn’t.” He draped his arms over my shoulders, keeping me close in a tight hug. “You still believe that my messes are your messes?”

“They always are and always will be.”

The phone started ringing again, making Hotch and I both jump. As we settled, we both chuckled lightly. It was just a phone call. It couldn’t hurt us. So, Hotch leaned over to answer the phone again, and I held onto his elbows, refusing to let go, especially after what just happened. Hotch was protective, everyone knew that, but when someone threatened him, I felt the need to protect him, too. It came with the territory of loving someone like him in our field of work. After the call The Reaper just made to our hotel room, there wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to let anything happen to Hotch. I didn’t care about what could happen to me. I only cared about protecting him.

“Hotchner.” He turned back to face me while talking on the phone, so I buried my face in his chest, running my fingers over his abs through his shirt. He tensed. “Thanks for letting me know.” His tension wasn’t in response to my light, tickling touch, but to whatever happened on that call. He hung up just as quickly as he had answered. “There’s a new crime scene.”

“It’s only been a few minutes—”

“He knew I was going to turn him down. He was waiting.”

“Aaron, before we go, you need to know that it’s not your fault. If he was really waiting on you, then he was just looking for an excuse to kill someone—”

He pushed me off his chest and went to grab his suit jacket. I watched him silently. When he went to the bathroom to gel his hair back, I sucked in a deep breath, trying to collect my security. He pushed me off because he was upset at the case, not at me. I had to remember that.

“It’s not your fault,” I insisted again as he hurried for the hotel room door. He didn’t listen to me. He started walking down the hallway, knocking on the team’s doors when he passed them. “Aaron, please!” I skipped a few steps to catch up to him. “We knew this would happen!”

Hotch stopped and turned on his heels abruptly, making me crash into him. “He killed seven people on a bus, Y/N!”

I stumbled back. I stared at him in shock for a moment before letting him go on his own. The doors behind me opened. After a moment, I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I turned to see that it was Reid who had come to check on me. My eyes softened.

“We have a new crime scene. Tell the others.” I shrugged out of his touch gently before walking off, too.

At the crime scene, Hotch was already on the bus, looking around at the chaos The Reaper created. The team, since we had only just arrived, filed onto the bus to get a look, too. As I stepped on, Hotch immediately pushed past me. I scoffed. Then, I tried to make a move to follow him.

“Stay here, kiddo,” Rossi warned, holding up a hand. My shoulders fell in defeat. I stepped out of the way so that Rossi could chase after Hotch instead of me. “It’ll be okay,” he said while passing me.

I sighed and shuffled through the rows of seats, counting the bodies. Yep. There were seven people. The driver up front… He was wearing Amanda’s engagement ring. That was the first thing I noticed. George Foyet begged us to not let The Reaper ruin that good memory for him, and we broke that promise— I broke that promise. How was I supposed to tell him the truth? How were we supposed to give notifications of death to seven different families?

A tear slid down my cheek.

We knew that this would happen. Hotch had been saying since the very beginning that The Reaper would inevitably attempt to make a deal with him, and he would turn it down. But we hadn’t anticipated that the repercussions would happen so fast. There was no time to warn the team, the Boston Police, or even the city. We could’ve saved lives if the deal had come at any other time. That was why Hotch blamed himself. He felt like these seven deaths were on his hands because he wouldn’t make a deal with the Devil. And, honestly, he had every reason to believe that, especially with the note drawn in blood on the window that read: “NO DEAL”.

Besides the “NO DEAL” message, there were three sets of numbers painted onto the windows, too. “1439”, “201”, and “1488”. I cocked a brow. Those numbers… They looked so familiar. I had no idea why, but they were ringing some bell in my head that I couldn’t understand. So, I asked Reid if he recognized them. He shrugged and shook his head. Well, if boy genius couldn’t put it together, then we were fucked.

And then it dawned on me.

“Holy shit…” I raced out of the bus, pushing past Emily inconsiderably, then hurrying onto the road. I stopped for a moment to look around for Hotch. When I spotted him and Rossi talking to O’Mara, I ran over. “Hotch!” He turned to me with panicked eyes. “The numbers—” I pointed to the bus, “They’re Foyet’s address numbers. He knows where Foyet lives!”

“This bus is the 7 line,” O’Mara said, “it runs right by that first address, 1439 Yarbrough.” He was already running to jump into his car.

“Foyet’s in trouble,” I said to Hotch.

Hotch scratched his five o’clock shadow. “We’ll split up and cover each of the addresses. Y/N, go with Morgan to 1439, Emily and Reid will go to 201, and Rossi and I will head to 1488.”

“Morgan!” I called out as I turned around. He looked up at me through the bloody windows of the bus. When I gestured to one of the cars, he nodded, then raced out to meet me there. “Drive,” I told him, tossing the keys in his direction.

As he started the car up, I opened the trunk just wide enough to get ahold of two of the blue bullet proof vests, then slammed it shut and hurried to jump into the passenger’s seat. Morgan started up the lights and sirens. We were off before anyone else. I started putting on my vest while we drove, just to save time. When we would get there, we would have to wait a moment for Morgan to strap his on, but this way we were a little bit ahead of schedule.

The second we were parked in front of the house that Hotch and I met George Foyet at, I tossed him his vest, then got out of the car. I unholstered my weapon. As I glanced around the street, I saw O’Mara’s car parked just a few houses down. When Morgan was ready, he unholstered his gun, too, and turned on the flashlight he had attached to his. Fucking hell, I needed to upgrade mine like that. Maybe I could beg him to do it for me for my birthday or something.

We ran up to the front door, but I held him back when I saw that it was open. O’Mara must’ve already gone inside without back up. Idiot. That being said, we still had to clear the house ourselves, just in case. The best way to do that was to take a floor each. Morgan and I agreed that he would check the ground floor, meanwhile I’d race upstairs to clear the upper floor.

“Don’t shoot O’Mara,” I whispered.

Morgan rolled his eyes, then pushed the door open. As he ran into the pitch-dark living room, I skipped up the twelve steps of the stairwell. At the top, I took notice of how many rooms there were to clear. Three. A bedroom, a bathroom, and a spare room. I held my breath as I turned into the spare room. There was absolutely nothing in there. Foyet probably didn’t choose that as his bedroom considering how close it was to the front door. I didn’t blame him. So, I moved onto the bathroom. Nothing and no one.

I froze as I turned into the bedroom. Detective O’Mara’s body was on the floor, his shirt drenched in his own blood from being stabbed dozens of times in the back. His gun was nowhere to be found. My breath quivered as I quickly stepped into the room, clearing the corners before someone could jump me, then checking the closet and the bathroom to make sure no one could get me like they did with O’Mara. There was no one there, though. I was all alone. Well, alone with O’Mara’s dead body, but still. The concern was that there was no sign of Foyet, no sign of The Reaper, and there was a dead cop on the floor.

Suddenly, the sound of a window breaking echoed throughout the house. “Morgan!” I cried out. I jumped onto my toes and started racing back downstairs. “Morgan!” I called again when he wasn’t responding. I ran into the living room to see the front window completely smashed open like someone had been thrown through it. I heard painful groaning coming from the front yard. “Morgan!” I peeked out the open window frame with my gun raised. “Morgan, no—” I saw him lying on his back in the grass. He was half awake, barely writhing around, still groaning in agony. I jumped out the window and fell to my knees beside him. I grabbed his face long enough to see that his eyes were fluttering open. “Morgan, where is he?” He didn’t respond. “Is he still here?”

“No…” he croaked weakly.

“Where did he go?”

Morgan didn’t respond again. I figured that he only had enough strength to warn me that The Reaper was gone, and that was all. He did good, though. It meant that I could call in for help while staying with him instead of going back into the house to keep searching for an Unsub who was long gone.

I pressed the comm on my shoulder. “Morgan’s down! We need back up. O’Mara’s dead, Foyet’s gone, and The Reaper left after attacking Morgan!” I put my hands back on Morgan. “Look at me, Derek. Keep your eyes open.”

He groaned and tried to hand something to me. “Take—” He couldn’t finish what he wanted to say, but I caught the hint, quickly taking what it was that he was holding onto.

My face fell. “Morgan…” I turned the bullet over in my palm. “I…” A tear slid down my cheek. He always took something from his victims and gave something from the last one. What I didn’t understand was why he didn’t leave something from one of the last victims. Why this bullet?

“Cred—” He groaned and patted his pocket. “My… Creds…”

I frantically looked into his pocket, ignoring how weird it would’ve been if it were anyone but my partner. I was shocked to find that his credentials weren’t in his pocket, though, which was probably what he was trying to tell me in the first place. The Reaper left a bullet, but took Morgan’s FBI credentials—the thing that identified him as an agent. The thing that represented how far he had come since Buford. How did The Reaper know to take that one thing?

I pressed my palms against his cheeks. “This isn’t your fault.”

“Foyet…”

I shook my head. “I don’t know where he is.”

“No—” He gasped for air. “The kitchen… Blood…”

“Is Foyet dead?”

“I don’t know.”

He gasped again, this time more deeply as he caught his breath. He was already sounding better, but he wasn’t looking better, which was a concern. I knew that he was going to shrug this off. The minute he could sit up, he was going to insist that he was alright, and he would want to get right back into the case and the field. Over my dead body… For a lack of a better term.

Sirens started approaching from the distance. I sighed with relief, but I never stopped holding him. I shouldn’t have split up from him. We learned this lesson years ago when Hankle took Reid because he split apart from JJ. Every time we split up, something bad happened, and I should’ve known that this time would be no different. We could’ve cleared the house together. It wouldn’t have been that hard. Sure, it would have taken longer, but at least he wouldn’t have been attacked by The Reaper.

The lights of the ambulances started flashing through the street. I waved one of my arms in the air, signaling that we were still on the lawn outside Foyet’s house. They pulled up in front of the house and the paramedics jumped out. I stepped back. As they started attending to Morgan, I saw one of the team’s cars pull up, too. I prayed it was Hotch. When I saw that it was a worried Emily and Rossi getting out of the car, I felt my heart sink a bit.

Emily ran straight over to me while Rossi went inside to start dealing with the crime scene. “What happened?” she asked me.

I looked back at Morgan, who was now sitting upright. “We split up to clear the house. I found O’Mara’s body in the bedroom upstairs when I heard a fight break out in the living room. By the time I got downstairs, The Reaper was gone and Morgan was barely conscious.”

“Where’s Foyet?”

“I don’t know. Morgan checked downstairs, and he started to tell me that there was a lot of blood in the kitchen, but no sign of Foyet.”

“The Reaper could have taken him.”

“Maybe? But, then, why wait around for us to show up?”

“For the thrill kill? He thought that he could kill Morgan, which would up his game from civilians, but then you came downstairs, so he had to run.”

I watched as Morgan was lifted off the ground by the paramedics and taken inside so that they could start giving him stitches. Emily and I followed them, but I stayed out on the porch to catch my breath. I could have lost Morgan. I left him, and I could have lost him. How was I supposed to live with that? I should’ve been there. This wouldn’t have happened if we didn’t split ourselves up.

“Y/N—” Hotch called desperately, running up the front yard to meet me on the steps. I turned away from the doorway just in time to catch Hotch in a tight embrace. I hadn’t anticipated that he would do such a thing while we were at work and the team was around, but, honestly, I was glad that he did because after what happened, I really needed it. “Are you alright?” he whispered into my ear while squeezing me until I practically couldn’t breathe.”

“Yeah,” I answered through a strangled breath.

Hotch released me entirely. I caught my breath slightly before looking up to see that he was pale with worry again, but this time his eyes were red. “I shouldn’t have split us all up.”

“Hotch, you didn’t know—”

“He threatened you, Y/N. I shouldn’t have let you—”

“We’re doing our jobs. This isn’t the first time an Unsub has made it personal, and it won’t be the last. I need you to calm down for me, Aaron. Please.”

“Is Morgan alright?” he croaked.

I stopped. He was… He was trying not to cry. Aaron Hotchner— SSA Aaron Christopher Hotchner… was trying not to cry during a case. He never showed emotion while we were on the job. Ever. Yeah, okay, maybe he would get annoyed or upset by something, but he tried to hide it until we were at least alone or something. I didn’t understand why this was really getting to him. There were hundreds of other cases where something went wrong, something didn’t go according to his plan— and, of course, he was upset, but never like this. He didn’t break down in front of people like this. Why? Why now? Why this case?

Brushing his hair off his face always seemed to calm him down, so I started with that. As the paramedics that had been attending to Morgan’s wounds exited the house, I cupped Hotch’s cheek, letting him press tenderly into my palm. “He’s okay. We’re okay.”

“I shouldn’t have let you guys come here on your own.”

I ran my fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp smoothly. “Please, don’t blame yourself. He needs you to hold it together just for a little longer—we all need it.” I didn’t want to tell him to hide his emotions. I knew that it wasn’t healthy to keep it all bottled up. But if Morgan saw how worried Hotch was about him, Morgan would fly off the rails. “The Reaper took Morgan’s credentials.”

Hotch’s eyes widened. “What did he leave?”

“A bullet.”

“To tell Morgan that he could have killed him… He owes his life to The Reaper.” He turned and punched the wood column standing at the edge of the porch. He whimpered quietly at the pain. “Fuck.”

I grabbed his hand, immediately tending to his bloody knuckles. “I’ll get you some ice. Go inside.”

Hotch kissed my temple as he passed by me. When he was out of sight, I hid my face in my palms, trying to choke back the sob that was building in my chest. How did all of this go so wrong? From the deal, to the bus, to Morgan getting attacked by The Reaper? It was wearing me down. I was exhausted physically and mentally. If I didn’t get to rest soon, I feared I was actually going to tear my own hair out.

As I suspected, Morgan insisted on not being benched once we got back to the precinct. Hell, he didn’t even let the paramedics take him to the hospital. The worst part, however, was that I was too tired to fight him on it, and he knew that. He knew that I couldn’t make him sit out of this, and he used that against me. I was pissed for a bit. I’d be the first to admit that I was glaring at Morgan as we got coffee together in the break room, then went to sit down with the team in the boardroom to revisit our profile. But then I realized something. I was only mad because I was worried about him. I was frustrated that he wasn’t taking care of himself and that I couldn’t do anything to help him. That was when my focus changed to Hotch. He had taken his anger out on me earlier, after the deal was made, because he was just worried about me. I couldn’t blame him for that now that I felt the same way about Morgan.

Hotch held the new ice pack I got him from the freezer in the breakroom against his swollen fist as he asked the team, “Why is he so focused on Foyet? What’s so special about him?”

There was an obvious answer, but I was going to let it slide considering how tired we all were. The truth was, The Reaper was obsessed with Foyet because he was the only one that got away. He was his last victim before making the deal with Shaunessy. But those answers weren’t good enough for Hotch. Something was still bugging him, therefore, he wanted us to dig deeper.

“What about Amanda Bertrand?” JJ asked. “Foyet’s girlfriend.”

“He told us that she was the love of his life, that he was going to propose the night she was murdered. He looked… distraught… It seemed real,” I answered, staring at Hotch. I wouldn’t know how to react either if I lost Hotch. Even years later, I wasn’t sure if I would ever be able to move on from something like that.

Morgan furrowed his brows and looked into his notes. “But, she just got here from Michigan.”

“What?”

“How long had she been here?” Hotch inquired.

“Four weeks,” Prentiss answered.

My jaw fell agape. To be fair, I supposed I couldn’t blame them. Hotch and I started going out about a month into my promotion at the BAU. It was possible that George Foyet and Amanda Bertrand fell in love at first sight. Who was I to judge? JJ…

“Wait, didn’t our profile say that he’s a Hebephile?” JJ asked. “He was a teacher’s assistant back then. He worked with Amanda’s class— That’s how they met.”

“Oh, my…” I trailed off when the realization hit me like a train.

We trusted him. We were invited into his home, and we were convinced by the tears he shed for Amanda. I was blinded by his illness and the love it seemed he still had for her. I—I should’ve… I should’ve seen it sooner. If I had, O’Mara would still be alive, and Morgan wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Even the suspicious things he said, like, “Do you know how long it takes to stab someone thirty-two times?” He played me with the empathy card. He made me pity him. Somehow, he knew that it would get under my skin by pressing the love button over and over again. I felt so fucking stupid.

“Colson went to see Foyet,” Hotch said after a moment of shock. “George Foyet is The Reaper—Someone call Garcia and tell her to get a trace on Roy Colson’s phone.” He leapt out of his seat, throwing the ice pack to the side, and hurried to get his vest back on. The rest of the team followed suit while JJ called Garcia.

By the time we had our vests on, Garcia had already sent us the location of Colson, and likely Foyet, too. On our way to the car, I apologized to Hotch for not seeing it sooner. He told me that it wasn’t my fault, the same way the bus massacre wasn’t his fault. I shook my head in denial. We got into the car with Morgan and Rossi.

“My thing has always been profiling people and scenes with a glance. I’ve always done that. I should’ve done better. I shouldn’t have let my guard down because—”

“Y/N,” Hotch interrupted while speeding out of the parking lot, “no one ever saw it. Since ’98, no one put the pieces together. He stabbed his girlfriend, called the police a mile down the road, drove back, then stabbed himself thirty-two times. Of course, no one was going to suspect him. He played the victim and love card on us both, and we fell for it. This isn’t your fault. You have to believe me.”

I slumped in my seat. Defeat coursed through me. I didn’t know what else to do but sit in silence.

At the location Garcia gave us, Hotch and Emily turned off the sirens and lights on the cars so that we could approach quietly. As we silently stepped onto the pavement, Hotch gestured with two fingers that Rossi, Emily, and Reid should go around back, then I would go with him and Morgan to the front door. We needed to close off all possible exits. So, we waited for the other half of the team to canvass the backyards for possible escapes, but when we had the go ahead, we stormed up to the front door.

“We’re inside,” Rossi whispered into his comm.

“Go,” Hotch told Morgan.

Morgan nodded, then winced as he kicked the door open. We hurried into the living room to find Roy Colson sitting at a table with George Foyet, the latter holding a gun to Colson’s head. They both noticed us immediately. Colson’s relief was countered by Foyet’s furiousness that we had interrupted his plans.

“It’s over,” Hotch said, stepping in front of me and Morgan.

Foyet stood. “Stop there or I’ll kill him.” He cocked his gun.

“No, you won’t. You need him to write your story,” I said after noticing the computer open in front of Colson.

“Then, I’ll take him with me. I’ll let him go as soon as I’m safe.”

“No, you won’t,” Hotch said. “You’re going to kill him, regardless. But, here’s the secret, Foyet: you kill him, I kill you. Got it?”

Foyet snorted. “You think I’m afraid to die?” He gestured to his chest, referencing how he had stabbed himself for the sake of throwing us off his trail.

“I think you’re narcissistic and greedy. You’re only afraid to die if it means no one will remember you. If you do this now, no one will remember you. You’ll disappear. If you keep him alive, however, he’s going to write another book about you—this time naming you, making you more famous than you’ve ever been before. People will make movies and documentaries about you if you’re still around to tell your story. But if I kill you here and now, they might make one documentary about The Reaper, who was never found or heard from again, and then they’ll forget all about you. Is that what you want? Because I can make that happen.”

Foyet’s attention turned to Morgan. A slow grin grew on his face. “Well, hello there, again, Derek.”

“Don’t talk to him,” I snapped.

Foyet smiled at me before putting his gun down. “Fair enough, princess.”

Morgan immediately holstered his weapon, switching it out for his handcuffs. He hurried to pull Foyet’s arms behind his back, then cuffs his wrists together as tightly as he could, earning a groan and an ear to ear grin from Foyet.

“Where’s my badge, you son of a bitch?” Morgan asked angrily.

Foyet’s eyes were trained on me, though. He was staring straight into my soul, as if he could somehow see under my clothes, into my heart and brain, like he was drowning in the color of my eyes. It ran a chill down my spine. I tried looking away to ease my perturbation about it, but what he said next made me look back up at him.

“See, I get it now, Aaron,” Foyet snickered. “She’s gorgeous.���

“Shut the fuck up,” Morgan hissed before pushing Foyet forward.

“I’m going to be more famous than you even realize, Aaron Hotchner! Watch me!”

Roy and I let out shaky sighs at the same time once Morgan shoved Foyet out of the house. I turned to Hotch. He was fuming, I could tell. So much had happened, and he felt like all of it was his fault. It wasn’t of course. I was the one who pushed him to take the case, to bring the team along, to keep me close so that I could keep an eye on him. We just hadn’t anticipated this mess. We didn’t expect that Morgan would get hurt and that Foyet would creep me out on purpose. It was so odd to see him go from that shy, sick, broken hearted man to that confident, angry, sociopathic man that had just stared into my soul moments ago.

Hotch stared at me from across the room. His eyes searched mine, trying to replace the disgusting feel of Foyet’s stare with his loving, calming, dark chocolate gaze. I relaxed a bit. He pouted his eyes at me in a way that said: “I love you”, and I returned the favor.

On the jet, I sat with Hotch in the back where the two seats away from everyone else were. He had me sit next to the window so that he could hold my hand under the table. Morgan and Emily were talking on the couch, and Reid had his hand on JJ’s stomach, feeling the way her baby kicked. It creeped him out. Of course, Spencer Reid, Knower of All Things, would be creeped out by a baby kicking and hiccupping inside a mother’s stomach. He was so funny when he was naïve. But it was good that they were all distracted. The fact that they had their own things going on meant that they weren’t focused on us. That gave Hotch a chance to hold me.

At some point, after Rossi left the bathroom and took a seat across from JJ and Reid, I even rested my cheek against Hotch’s shoulder. We hadn’t slept in so long. We were so fucking tired. While we were obviously eager to get back to Jack, I figured that it wouldn’t hurt to have one night to ourselves where we could rest, then tomorrow, to distract Hotch, we could play with the black box before picking up Jack. It was a good plan. It sounded like a nice plan, honestly.

When JJ’s phone started ringing, it woke me up slightly. I lifted my head long enough to look up at Hotch to see that he had just woken up, too. I chuckled at him before poking his dimple. He was cute when he was sleeping. He was even cuter when his eyes were barely open, but he could still see me smiling, so he instinctively smiled back at me. We were going to be okay.

We looked over as JJ got off the phone. She swallowed hard and looked at each of us in silence. I felt my smile fall. She didn’t look well— not that something was wrong with her or the baby, but because whatever happened on that call made her heart sink. Everyone sat in silence, waiting for her to give them answers. If it were just another case, she would’ve told us, or if it were something wrong with reports, she would’ve told us. This was different. She looked petrified with fear.

“George Foyet escaped custody.”

------------

criminal minds family: @gorgeousdarkangel​ @peggy1999​  @alex--awesome--22​ @oceaneblu​ @brithedemonspawn​ @absolutemarveltrash​

[alexandrablake]

a happy ending

Prompt: 47. “I’m fine.” “You don’t look fine.” “Then stop looking.” from this prompt list! Pairing: None, this is a gen fic Show: Criminal Minds Word Count: 1,699 Warnings: Slight allusion to suicide. Mentions of death. A/n: I’ve never written anything like this, so please, if you are going to comment on any of these things, do it on this one. Also, see my reply because I explain a few things about this because I figured it would be little confusing and the explanation would be long.

How many victims have we seen? How many crime scenes? Hundreds? Thousand?

It was both a blessing and a curse to have an eidetic memory. Yes, he could recall even the most minute detail from any of his experiences which proved to only benefit him in this line of work, but he could not forget either. Thus, Gideon’s parting words to him echoed through his mind, chanting and imprinting in every nook.

There was no escape.

Just as they always do, he and his team caught the “bad guy.” It did not really matter, though. Gideon was already dead. He never had a chance. 

Just as they always do, he and his team were cleaning away the evidence of a case solved. They took down the newspaper clippings, the photos, the maps, the triangulations- they took down it all. It was almost as if the heinous crimes they had seen had never happened.

Just as they always do, he and his team piled into government-issued SUVs leaving the crime scene for one final time. In most cases, they would never return. For most of them, they would forget about it in due time. Not him, though. He could never forget. 

The problem was that this was not just some case. There was no way there could be “just as they always do”s.

So, as he climbed into the SUV- license plate 90VFA4- he looked around at his colleagues, his friends, his family. He had worked with some of them upwards of ten years; he could say with much confidence that he could read them well. 

None of them cared. They were treating this like it was just another routine case. That was their mentor, their colleague, their friend, their family, that they had just solved the case for. It was not just a random person. It was… Gideon. And they didn’t care. 

JJ was staring back at him when he pulled himself from his thoughts. Her brows were ever so slightly furrowed, and she examined him with the look of a concerned mother. 

“Are you okay?”

Her words were light and sweet like syrup on pancakes. They coated not just a question but a gentle offer for a conversation where he could relinquish his thoughts to her.

“I’m fine.” His words were brisk, harsh, and cold like wind on a November night. They were rejection in its finest form. Two words that held so much more meaning than seemingly possible.

Her eyes bore holes into him, and it felt like she could peer into his mind. “You don’t look fine.”

“Then stop looking.”

She seemed taken aback by his statement, shoulders tightening and eyebrows raising. But, she got the message loud and clear: Back off. JJ turned back around so she was facing away from him and towards the windshield. 

He leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes. It wasn’t long before he drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

In this line of work, I was afraid I would lose the ability to trust, but I’ve realized I can’t really look at anyone without seeing their death. And as bad as losing your faith in humanity seems, losing your faith in happy endings is much worse. 

His eyes flitted open, and he had to raise a hand to shield them from the sudden brightness that greeted him. The contrast dimmed as his eyes adjusted, and he found himself not sitting in the SUV as expected, but rather a dingy diner booth. The seat in front of him was empty, but there was a basket of fries and a glass of water. It was as if he was expecting someone. 

He knew it was a dream. He researched them when his mother first started to show signs of sickness. Maybe there was some sort of link when it came to dreams and the reality distortion that she was experiencing. It was a desperate attempt, even he knew that, but he found comfort in the words that surrounded him in the endeavor. 

The doorbell clanged, and he moved his attention to the front of the diner. A figure approached his booth, but that would be all he could describe about it. It was almost as if JJ had changed the office television to the wrong channel and the screen was filled with a black-and-white static. He squeezed his eyes shut once, twice, three times, before the figure came into focus. 

Gideon was sitting down across from him, that same omniscient smile that so often spread across his face gracing it now. 

“Hello, Spencer.”

His mouth fell open. Even if it was just a dream, having his late mentor speak to him as if he was still living was something that was hard for even him to compute. 

He mustered every word in his vocabulary to greet the still smiling man across from him. “Hi.”

That aforementioned grin grew into more of a smirk. “You look like hell. I’m sure this is a trying time for you.” The initial shock was beginning to wear off and anger began to bubble within him. “You could say that.” Gideon raised a knowing brow, cocking his head to the side a little. “Got something to say?”

Biggest trap for a profiler to fall into is pride. Forgetting that, for all your skills, profiling is just a tool.

“A few somethings.” Reminiscent of all those times when they would just sit after a case, Gideon leaned back into the booth and looked at him expectantly. He would never verbally invite his protege to speak but would always have an air about him that just invited the confidence to do so.

Speak he did. “Why would you chase after Mallick, fully knowing that you no longer had the arsenal of tools you did the first time you attempted to do so? Why did you leave? Well, I know why you left. You did leave that letter explaining but I know that is not actually why you left. Why-” The older man held out his hands in front of him. “Slow down, I can hardly understand you when you go on these tangents.” The smile never left his face.

“I chased after him because I knew I would never be able to live with myself knowing that I had just let the one lead that emerged in thirty years just…” he splayed his fingers in the air before clutching them into a tight fist, “slip through my fingers.”

He nodded. After Maeve, he had thought over every possible way that he could have talked Diane down. He knew that there was no chance, if he could do it all over again, that he would let the obvious clues of her identity pass by him again. 

Gideon was still talking. “I figured I could do basic reconnaissance and get the information I needed about the new developments. I didn’t think that this Tara would be the same Tara Barnett from nearly forty years ago.” He paused for a moment and time seemed to freeze around the pair. 

“So you decided to lure him out because you knew he was active again?” he asked, trying to push the explanation along.

Gideon didn’t respond immediately but stared at him before speaking up with a smile, “I like your hair like that. Much better than the old greasier stuff you used to have to try and seem older.”

He reached up and touched his hair gently, wallowing in the old profiler’s praise. 

“Yes, I tried to lure him out,” the former agent said, rather noncommittally. “It worked better than expected. But that’s not what you’re really worried about.”

He didn’t ask if it was. He knew. 

“No. No, it is not.”

There was a heavy sigh from across the booth. “I left because I needed to. I had to or you wouldn’t have found a letter in an empty cabin, but rather a gun with its bullets used.”

The images of what would have been flashed through his mind rapidly and he took a sharp breath to will them away.

“I told the truth in that letter. I had nothing. I didn’t have the belief in the job I used to have, and I didn’t have the belief in myself that I needed.”

A pregnant pause filled the diner after Gideon fell silent again. He cleared his throat. “Did- did you find it?”

“Find what?” “In your letter, you said, ‘I guess I’m just looking for it again. For the belief I had back in college.  The belief I had when I first met Sarah and it all seemed so right. The belief in happy endings.’ Did you find it?”

Once again, he was examined by Gideon. “It’s not a tangible thing, belief in yourself. It’s more of a construct, if you will.”

“That is not really an answer.”

Gideon slid out of the booth and stood over him. He glanced at the clock hanging over the doorway and sighed. “It’s time to go. You need to wake-up, you’ll be getting back soon. And I… well, I have people to see.”

He stood up so they were face to face. Even in this dream, he was taller and had to peer down at the smiling man.

“Look, Reid. I know me leaving was hard on you. It was hard on me, too. But, I really think it was necessary for both of us.”

He answered in a small voice, and he felt like that twenty-two year old kid all over again, “Yeah, I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

Those as his final words, Gideon stepped away and towards the exit. The doorbell clanged as he swung the door open. Before he stepped through, he paused, his knuckles whitening on the doorknob. He looked back, a glassy look in his eyes. “Would you tell Stephen I’m sorry?”

He received a light nod, and that smile came back. Then, Gideon was gone.

Spencer had that same smile gracing his lips as he woke up.

Is death ever worth it? Was the world always this gray? Is it only in the movies that it’s black and white? Was that just an illusion?

[buckyodinson]

You Didn’t See This Coming (Mandalorian x fem!Reader)

Request from anon: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader!!! Where she's precocious; she's a time traveler who knows what's going to happen to them (like in ep 7-8) and it gives her anxiety, but she stays strong through most of it. So, at the end of ep 8 she expresses her crush on Din (Cara & Greef may already know just for fun haha) because of everything they've been through together. *;-; Sorry for the long detail, it can be nsfw or fluff* :3

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: I din’t make explicit mentions to the reader being a time traveler as such, but more-so that she was just aware of what was going to happen? This takes place at several points between episodes 5-8 (sooo spoilers for those episodes!! - don’t read if you don’t want the second half of the series spoiled)

You had been travelling with Mando since he landed on Sorgan. He had met Cara and yourself at the same time and befriended the both of you (after a little skirmish, obviously). You were aware of everything that would happen over the next few weeks, and you did your best not to panic over them. In such a short time, you’d grown very close to Mando, and you were a little embarrassed about how quickly you had developed feelings for him. You kept them to yourself, however, knowing he had much more important things to be dealing with in the near future. Your biggest struggle was keeping the events of the future to yourself. You knew everything that was going to happen to Mando and his acquaintances over the next few weeks, and a fair amount of it was bad, but you knew you couldn’t outright tell anyone, otherwise the changes to this timeline could be catastrophic.

When Mando was approached by Toro Calican, and an offer was made for Mando to keep the whole payment for the bounty, he agreed, and you felt the panic rise in you. You knew this partnership would end badly, but all you could do was stay back at the Crest with the Child and hope for the best. You didn’t stop pacing the entire time Mando was gone, though eventually succumbing to sleep through pure exhaustion, but you were rudely awakened by Toro coming aboard the Crest and attempting to steal the Child from you. You put up a fight, but he ultimately beat you down and all you could do was watch as he left with the baby, praying Mando would return. You heard shouting and blaster fire, and Mando ran up the ramp and threw himself down next to you, checking over your injuries. You were bleeding pretty badly from a blaster shot to your side, and the last thing you remember seeing before passing out was Mando hastily fumbling about to find his med-kit.

When you awoke, you looked around and found you were in Mando’s bunk and you noticed the bandages on your side, confusion etching your features. When you attempted to stand, pain shot down your side, and images flashed through your mind of the fight with Toro. You shuddered at the pain but made your way slowly up to the cockpit to join Mando. It took you a while to climb the ladder, but you finally made it up there, letting yourself melt into the co-pilot seat.

“Thanks for patching me up, back there. I appreciate it, Mando.” You croaked out, your voice rough from lack of use.

“It’s okay. How do you feel?” he spoke back, and despite the cold tone to his voice, you could hear a semblance of worry in it.

“My side is still a little sore, but I’ll be fine in no time – thanks to you. Sorry for depriving you of your cot for the night.”

“I rarely use it anyway, so there’s no need for apologies. You must’ve been exhausted though, it’s been almost three days since Calican.”

“Three days?!”

“Yeah. You’ve been out cold since. Did you not sleep while I was away?” his helmet tilted slightly to the side to face you.

You blushed and looked down at your hands in your lap, “Not really… I was just worried. I didn’t trust him.”

“Well, you were right about that one. Should’ve trusted you there. Obviously, we didn’t get a payment for that job, so I’m reconnecting with some old…. acquaintances of mine for another job. This one will go a lot smoother, hopefully.” He placed his attention back to the stars flying past you through the transpiristeel.

You realised this was the job where Mando would be infiltrating a prison with some people he knew before his time in the Guild. You internally sighed, knowing how this job would end too, but outwardly you just hummed in response.

You didn’t like the crew who’d joined you on the Crest, and seemingly, the feeling was mutual. The Twi’lek was very suggestive towards Mando, which confused you, while Mayfeld was suggestive towards you, which made you cringe. You were sat uncomfortably in the hull of the ship with the rest of the crew, waiting to dock when The Child escaped his pod, and you quickly shuffled to put him back. Mayfeld made a remark about it being Mando and the Twi’Lek’s child, before being shut down by Mando.

“Or is it yours and hers?” he asked suggestively, pointing at you as you disappeared to go put the child more securely in his pod this time. You could hear the discussion carrying on behind you, and the anger in Mando’s voice was evident.

“Back off.” Mando seethed.

“Is that what you look like under the helmet? Where do you fit the ears? Shame it didn’t take after it’s mother.” Mayfeld snickered and his friends all laughed at his comments.

“It’s not our child.”

“What is she then, your girlfriend, Tin Can?” he leered when Mando told him to back off.

“No. She’s just a crewmate.”

“Well then, I hope you don’t mind if I make a move then…” Mayfeld stood and was about to follow in your direction when Zero announced that you’d arrived.

You waited nervously on the Crest while the gang attempted to break the prisoner out, knowing any minute now, Mando would hastily return and fly the Crest away, leaving the rest behind. All you could do in the meantime was keep the Child away from Zero. Being the little womp-rat he is, the Child escaped you and you sprinted back to the hull when you heard a blaster shot, comforted to see Mando had shot Zero and the Child was fine.

“Oh, thank the Maker.” You breathed out in relief.

Mando undocked the ship and flew away, making a quick punch to hyperspace.

“I assume this one didn’t go as planned either?” you spoke softly as you joined him in the cockpit.

“You could say that.” The modulator picked up a long sigh after he spoke.

“We’re all okay.” For now, you thought. You gave him a weak smile when he turned to look at you. “That’s the main thing.”

You sat in silence for what seemed like hours in the cockpit, the Child eventually making his way to join you, reaching up until you picked him up and placed him in your lap. Eventually, a message from Greef Karga popped up, and this was the moment you’d been dreading. He spoke of Nevarro being under siege by Imperial troops, and how they desperately needed his help. You were reunited with Cara, and while you were happy to see her again, you couldn’t help but feel the anxiety rise within you, knowing what was coming.

You knew most of what was going to transpire over the next few days, but one thing that did come as a surprise to you though, was an IG unit offering you tea while you were at Kuill’s moisture farm. You thought the droid seemed sweet, but Mando was adamant about not trusting it. After meeting with Greef, you’d all made a camp to stay warm overnight, when you were attacked by Mynock’s, which left both you and Greef badly injured, but the Child was able to heal the pair of you. It’s powers a shock to everyone, but less so to Mando, who’d seen the Child’s power against the Mudhorn.

You’d finally made it to Nevarro, yourself and Cara claiming to be the ones who’d captured the wanted Mandalorian. You tried to play it as cool as Cara did, but you were panicking, knowing everything was about to get a lot more difficult.

Fast-forward to Cara practically dragging you down through the grate to leave Mando – now Din – behind, to make sure the Child was safe. You didn’t make it very far before Din and IG-11 joined you in the tunnels under the city. You handed the Child to Cara before rushing to Din, embracing him tightly.

“Don’t ever do that again. Me and the Child need you, Din.”

“I’m sorry, mesh’la. It seemed like the only way out for you.” The Mando’a was lost on you, but you linked one of his arms around your shoulders so you could help him walk. He leaned his body weight on you for a little while before the bacta IG-11 had administered began to work, and he was able to walk by himself. You did still have a firm grip on his hand for a short amount of time, and while nobody mentioned it you could see Cara and Greef share a knowing glace, which made you blush and let go of Din’s hand.

You reached the enclave, only to find a pile of armour, and even though you couldn’t see his face, you could tell by his body language that Din was devastated. He soon became enraged, turning on Greef, before the Armourer appeared, explaining what had happened. You watched in awe as she bestowed Din’s pauldron with the Mudhorn signet and declared Din to be the Child’s father until his home is found.

You held tightly onto the Child as you travelled down the lava river, watching on as IG-11 sacrificed himself for the child. You weren’t ashamed to admit you shed some tears over the droid, and you were almost sure Din did under his helmet too.

After the big brawl with Moff Gideon, everything you’d been dreading had finally come to pass, and you could relax now. You said your goodbyes to Cara and Greef and made your way back to the Crest. Din held tightly onto you, and you held the Child between your bodies, as he flew you back to the ship. When you reached the ship, an upsetting sight was left for you.

You quickly ran into the Crest, and put the Child in his crib, before appearing back outside and helping Din bury Kuill and leave a memorial for him. You cried into Din’s chest once you’d finished, the pair of you looking down at the goggles atop the pile of rocks. Din held your hand as you walked back to the Crest, not letting go until he climbed the ladder and you followed.

Once you were in hyperspace, your new adventure to find the Child’s home planet officially begun, you realised it was now or never.

“…Din?” you spoke barely above a whisper.

He pressed a few buttons before turning his chair around and nodding, waiting for you to continue.

You took a deep breath before starting, “I know we haven’t known each other for a long time, but today really proved to me how much you truly mean to me. I honestly though I was going to lose you, back in that cantina…” your voice faltered, and he reached a hand out to lace his gloved fingers with yours. “And I don’t know what I’d do without you, Din. I think I’m falling in love with you. And I understand if you can’t reciprocate that, but I had to get this off my chest… Today was just… so much.”

There was silence for a while before he grabbed your other hand and spoke softly, “I feel the same way mesh’la. I was so afraid of what I was feeling, but a lot of things have made me realise I love you too. Today, especially. When you all took off down the sewers, I thought I was gonna die there, not having told you what you meant to me. So, when IG healed me, I knew I needed to tell you. But you beat me to that, I guess.” You heard a noise through the modulator, which you assumed to be a chuckle, and it drew a laugh out of you too.

“I’m glad.” You smiled and leaned forward to rest your forehead against his Beskar-clad one. You closed your eyes and stayed there for a while, before being interrupted by the hiss of the door, as the Child clumsily made his way into the cockpit. You both broke apart laughing, and you picked the Child up, settling him in your lap. Din leaned back in his chair, watching you and the Child, smiling brightly beneath the helmet.

“What a weird band of misfits we are.” You laughed as you looked up at Din.

“A family.” He spoke back, and the soft smile that adorned your face almost took his breath away.

A family, you thought. You could get used to that.

[purelyfiction]

Title: The Return of A Royal

Summary: Din's found the bounty - and sure, he should be happy about that. Yet there is a lingering disgruntlement, the anger and annoyance ringing through him. Despite it all, he demands an explanation, and Mari knows she has to give him one. After clearing any uncertainties, the two are greeted with uninvited visitors. They leave no trace of the intruders, and move to care for the aftermath that was left. Once it's handled the two can figure out what plans are suitable and what move they can make next.

Word Count: 3,996 (longest one yet!)

TW: injury, canon related violence, use of needles, needle mention, (medical) drug use, semi-nudity

Chapter 5: Truth To Light

There's something running through Din's veins at her answer. It's not blood, not anger - maybe rage. The woman had been full of deceit from the minute she stepped into his life and now he's beyond certain that all he wants is her out of it. Yet here he sits, Child in his lap as the woman tries to give him some form of an explanation that he's unwilling to hear. "What other lies do you have? Hmm? Is there even a Jedi?" The question makes her tongue go dry. It's not a lie. 

However, he'd already sought out her help. She'd gave a disgruntled answer - something about needing to get him to the seeing stone. Which he did. It got both of them nearly killed, and Moff Gideon got away, which was half the reason they were here, hiding out from stormtroopers that had invaded oh so easily. "Well?" Din's voice enters the cockpit with such sharpness, Mari can only look at him. There's an anger bubbling in her. He's got some audacity coming in, acting like she was ruining his job. To be fair, she kind of is. But within reason.

One he seems to not want to hear.

"There is. But you already know her. I wanted you to get me back here, let me get out of your grasp before I told you where she was. So... there's no way to help you until a Jedi finds Grogu." She admits, looking to the familiar floor of her craft. Din lets the kid down, moving to wander about the ship, Mari praying he doesn't get himself into any trouble. His shoulders straighten and he's looming over her. She can hear his breath and tenses up as his voice comes back in, much angrier and much louder.

"So you step into business that isn't yours, try to exploit me and run off before giving me information that you promised me."  His voice is hard, and Mari wouldn't be lying if there wasn't a chill from sheer fear and terror  that he instilled. Maybe that's why he'd let the kid go galloping off. "And continued to lie about your identity, full well knowing I was searching for you, and lead us into the very jackasses we're trying to avoid? You call yourself a bounty hunter?"

She felt so small. So much like her father had as a young child, reminding her that there was a world that would take advantage of her and her power, and to never trust anyone. Mari has to push it all down, standing up to try to even out the distance between the two of them, hot tears starting to burn in her eyes.

"You don't want lies? Fine!  Let me reintroduce myself. My name is Mari Wescro, my parents locked me away with their servants and staff before my first birthday because they were terrified of me. I barely knew my mother, but she wrote to me frequently, she would send gifts, and keep the only thread of love from my parents alive. I read books for hours to entertain myself because I was never around children. My best friend was my nurse, and even then at the end of the day, I never felt truly cared for. So, when I was pulled from my bed, in the middle of the night, bound and thrown into a steel encased room in nothing but a nightgown at the age of 19, I knew I had to survive. It was the only way I would ever see any inch of the galaxy. I spent three weeks with stormtroopers who wanted to get their hands on me, a creepy old man who was ready to train me to do his bidding, only to find out my father traded me. He let them in. In exchange for materials to continue fighting the war that was killing our country. When I heard that, I knew my father would never lay a single hand on me ever again. I fought my way out of that death trap, stole myself a TIE fighter and navigated to the nearest planet. I cut my hair, and found the easiest way to get credits without being tied down, risking the possibility that my power hungry father would find me again. So I'm sorry that I lied about my identity when I heard someone was looking for me. That my father was searching for me to go back to his ways, exploiting the one thing I try to hide from the galaxy." Her chest is falling and rising rapidly after the monologue ends. Mari takes a breath, looking at the emotionless face of metal in front of her, tears falling, hastily moving to wipe them away. Maker, she wanted to be able to see his face right now. To see if there was surprise, empathy, hell, the slightest bit of guilt for her. Her face seemingly burned as she tries to stop the tears before they broke her even further.

As a child she'd spent so many moments calming the flow of tears that fell any time she felt dread, loneliness - the sheer emptiness that had filled her all those years. "When you walked in the cantina, I knew I couldn't fight you. I would not be able to escape, outrun or hide from you. Your reputation shows that. So, I had to hide in plain sight. If there is one thing that comes from this, I ask that we part ways, I hide away, I change my name and we never cross paths again."

Mari looks at the other, nearly wanting to scream. It was like talking to a brick wall, no response, no movement, no evidence there was even a person in her midst. A coo comes from the doorway, another hand moving to wipe at her eyes. Grogu expresses concern to her, and she shakes it off. "I'm fine.  Just, a lot of bad stuff in my head." She mutters, giving him a small smile before Din finally gives some form of reaction to what had insinuated.

"'You ." A hand moves as he speaks, only to fall again. A noise comes from the modulator, something she assumes is his attempt to find the right words. "You were hiding you. You were running. The whole time you've been on the run." He slowly sits back down in the chair he'd rested in earlier, a hand moving under his helmet, resting his chin there. "How long have you been... doing this."

"15 years. Not once had I heard from my father. Kriff's sake, I thought he was dead. I have no idea what he would want with me now." She offers, sitting in her own chair, the captains chair. "So, I apologize. I... I didn't know if I could trust you. Hoth, I still don't know." At this, Din looks to her, his gaze steady.

"I'm not finishing the job." Mari lets out a snort looking down to the Child for a moment.

"Well there's one relief. If it's not you, it's them." She runs her hands over her face, pressing her fingers to her eyes to put slight pressure on them.

"Come with us." A deep modulated voice, Mari pulls her hands from her face.

"You're kidding. I've heard the bounty they've got on you and green dude. Moff's really out for you both. He finds the both of us, and he's rich." Din can't help the smirk on his face, even though there was no evidence of it outside the helmet.

"Well then we don't let him find us." She gives a small smile. That smile is shook from her the minute a blaster shot comes from the front shield of the ship, ricocheting through the metal interior. She dives towards the kid, Din standing upright, blaster in hand as she shields the youngest. Her efforts are needed, as she feels a burning sensation in her bicep, doing her best to keep her cry quiet under all the gunfire. Once the blast diminishes, she's standing, grabbing her own blaster in her non-dominant hand, the two of them shooting rounds through the now busted shield of her freighter. So much for running out of here. Luckily, there'd not been many of them, and the silence falls on the port again, leaving Mari to sit back to the floor, a hand grabbing at her arm. The burn was far worse that she'd anticipated, but she knew that there'd be no way Grogu would've been able to take the hit. When her weight hits the floor, the Mandalorian's head moves to see her, kneeling down to take her elbow carefully in his hand to push the arm up so he can see the injury. "Let me see it." He reassures her, a slight hiss coming from her as he moves.

For the second time that day, the two are so close to one another, the distance being less than a blaster's length. "I'll be fine. We just need to get," another hiss as the lightest touch of Din's finger brushes over it, "stop that." She snarls, the male looking to her face.

"Is there any supplies on here?" He asks, slowly standing up, starting out to the hull of the ship.

"Yeah. They're in the captain's cabin." She gives the directions to the area, the other following them with heavy footsteps. Getting to the compartment she speaks of, he opens it, only to find a sheet of gauze, and the weakest painkiller most markets carry. He takes them regardless, moving back to the cockpit and joining her on the floor again. "I'm sorry it's not much." She offers, only for Din's hands to carefully move to the upper sleeve of the arm, ripping the rest of the fabric from the newly developed hole, so the whole sleeve moves off her arm, giving him better access to care for the wound.

"I have more supplies on my craft. We just need to get you there." He rationalizes, hands carefully moving to start the roll of gauze over the broken skin. His hands seem to move so painfully slow, Mari's mind slipping to where it'd been last night. The touch wasn't nearly the same, since his fingers were still gloved, but they held the same diligent and thought out actions, planned and executed so carefully, as if not to startle either of them, or make the wound worse. The two sit in the quiet, a hum coming from somewhere on the ship. Mari's keen to find the source only to hear the slightest crackle that indicates it's origin. It's coming from him. The hardened piece of steel that sits in front of her is humming. She finds such innocence in the noise, seemingly some form of a lullaby, one that might've been a tool to help get the Child to sleep each night. Or perhaps from his own childhood, somewhere deep in his memory. There's so much unknown about her caretaker at her side, yet he suddenly seems to know everything about her. She'd laid it out there for him to see. He'd received a glimpse last night before she stormed off to her room.

A satisfying snap comes from her right, Mando's ripped the gauze to shorten the bandage and tuck the tail in gently. "That'll work 'til we can get better care for it. The ship'll have to stay here for repairs." He notes, pushing a hand through the shatters of glass on the floor surrounding them.

"So what do we do now?" Mari's voice is light, as though this day hadn't brought tears and a gruesome injury. There's a much different attitude around her and Din seems unsure. Maybe because she's broken down a wall, she doesn't have to feel so guarded? Perhaps. Despite that, he stands, offering her a hand to help her to her feet.

"We find a Jedi."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Back on the Razor Crest, the three of them settle into hyperspace, Mari putting the child down for a nap before shutting the door to the cot's containment, just as the shielded man comes from the cockpit. "Let's see what we can do about your arm." He offers, moving to a cabinet on the far side of the room. Mari sits down not too far from him, leaning against a crate and watching his movements. He's got careful hands digging through the supply cabinet - in search of something specific. Mari's not too worried, merely giving him a gaze as he pauses, something in his hand with a grunt. "I must've used the last kit I had." He retorts, closing the cabinet, a box in hand despite his words.

"Kit?" She asks, watching as he approaches softly, kneeling down and setting the box in her lap. Mari lifts it softly, only to read the Aurebesh inscribed in the casing. Once she recognizes it, she's nearly throwing the box at his head, almost squirming away from him. "Hoth no. I'll take death before I take that. You can trust me there. I might've lied up until now but I swear to keep the truth if you don't use that."

Din gives a groan, picking the box containing the e-bacta syringe up from it's position on the floor where she pushed it away from her. "Fine. Don't come crying to me when you're still in pain hours from now." He gets up and moves back to the cabinet, Mari's face following him.

"I'll be fine. It doesn't even hurt right now." She offers, getting up, using her good arm to get up as to not disturb the other one. She's back to her feet when a distorted chuckle leaves him. "What are you laughing at over there?" She asks, looking to him as he turns, something of a makeshift sling in his hands.

"There's a numbing agent on it right now. It was what you had left in your medic cabinet." He offers, gently taking her elbow once again, carefully slipping her arm into the fabric, the woman watching his movements as she listens to him. "So, I'm gonna give you about 20 minutes before you're begging for it."

Mari's face can't help but flush at his words, looking up to him with a surprised face. She decides to give a retort, might as well take the risk and get the awkwardness out of the way now, right? "I'm afraid if you want me to beg, you're gonna have to work harder than that." With that, she gives a nod, a silent thank you, before moving to the cot door. "I'm gonna have a lie down, I'll come up when I'm awake." As she opens the door, she takes a glance to him, having not moved from where he stood, simply watching her. Mari slinks into the cot's room - the only bedroom Din had to him.

As soon as the metal door has shut Din is shuffling from his spot to the refresher, shutting the door and quickly pulling the helmet from his head. The metal falls to the floor with a clank his hands leaning into the sink in front of him as he takes a few breaths. He's trying his best to get the words to stop repeating over and over, but he can't.  He's pulling his gloves from his hands, moving to splash cold water on his skin, cooling down before standing upright. It's here that he forgets the walls are sheets of mental - meaning they're pretty thin. So the warping sound of metal shakes him, looking to the wall it's coming from. The wall that divides the refresher to the cot container. He suddenly hears the other's voice.

"Mando? You good? I heard a noise." Her voice in filled with slight concern for the other, which leaves Din feeling rather... calm. The idea of someone else showing concern to him, versus him looking at what others were doing - concerning himself with their wellbeing. It was brief, but it was nice to be thought of. He clears his throat, turning slightly to where the wall was.

"I'm fine. Helmet fell off the sink." He gives a quiet huff as Mari's response comes to him.

"Okay, talk to you in the morning?" She offers, the other giving a snicker.

"Goodnight, Mari."

He's been in the cockpit for a few hours now, not any more than two or three before the door to the pit swishes open, making him turn in his seat to look at the woman. She stands in the doorway, eyes red, hair disheveled, her one arm nursing her other. She was shaking a little bit. Din's breath leaves him gently, almost in sound of adoration. "Did someone's meds wear off?" He retorts, hidden smirk on his lips. Mari can nearly hear it in his voice, holding up a hand.

"I'm in a lot of pain. Can you just help me." This surprises him. Sure, he's not known her very long, but its the first time she's seemed so... out of it. Succinct and to the point of the matter. The Mandalorian gives a nod, standing up and making his way to the ladder. He navigates easily, watching Mari struggle to not move her arm, whimpers coming every so often as she slowly climbs back down the ladder. She nearly slips, making Din move to catch her waist in his hands. He tightens his grip to make sure she won't fall before speaking.

"Let go. I've got you." Its so soft, Mari is surprised he's even said it. She does so, letting go with the one arm that was keeping her upright. He then carries her from the well of the ladder, carefully setting her on her own two feet before retrieving the medical gurney from the wall. It releases slowly, and he turns to her. He waits for her to decide if she can get up herself, but brown eyes look to him, a quiet confirmation that she can't do it herself. Din returns a silent nod, hands moving back to her waist, lifting her up onto the cushioned surface. One hand stays put, the other moving to reach to the cabinet retrieving the medication that she'd declined earlier. As it's in his hand, he looks to her. "I'm not going to administer all of it, but it will probably be enough to knock you out for a while." He offers as fingers open the box. Mari speaks up, voice soft.

"Do you mind if I change then? This.. isn't that comfortable." Her words remind him that she's in the same shirt from earlier, blood dried and missing a sleeve. Mari suddenly curses before shaking her head. "Nevermind, I-I didn't grab clothes from my ship." She speaks, only for Din to take a turn.

"I have extra shirts. They won't fit you... but it's probably better than what you're in." He lets the item in his hands gently fall, and she gives a slow nod.

"If you don't mind. That would be.. nice." He gives a nod, turning to cross the ship to where he kept the small pieces that formed his wardrobe. He's quick to find a dark undershirt, shutting the drawer and turning to find Mari struggling to get the shirt off without moving her arm - inciting more pain.

"Hey, easy there." His feet move rather quickly to her, setting the fabric down beside her. "Let me help." Mari looks at him, her heart picking up a little. She knows she shouldn't but... the hotel room - they were in the dark. She couldn't see him and she's certain that he probably hadn't seen much of her in the pitch black room. His hand is gripping the fabric at her waist, only for Mari's to cover his. He looks to her, waiting for her to explain herself, and she does.

"Don't... judge." This girl was really confusing him now. Why now? Is it because they're in the middle of a fluorescent spotlight above them, a feature of the medical bay, something more than necessary in most instances. Din only gives a nod, starting to lift the fabric again, Mari moving ever so slightly to help him, the male being very careful to not disturb the gauze on her right bicep. Once the material's gone, he can't help but take a small look. He's not sure why she had picked the words she had, as there wasn't anything.. out of place. If anything, he'd be rather complemental if she'd asked. Though, he then sees the potential flaw she might've been concerned with. Slight bruises litter along her upper torso, along her collarbones and around the peeking skin of her hips in their waistband. His brain connects the dots, and he's moving his hand to her chin. He tilts it slightly, enough to see the mark that was still rather inflamed from their run-in the day prior.

"I did this?" He asks, hand retreating as quickly as it had come, Mari hoping that he'd not heard the slight hitch in her breath that had occured when his hand moved to hold her chin still.

"I-... yeah. I said don't judge," She reminds him, only for Din to speak up.

"Why would I judge? It's not like you did that." He defends, only before picking up the shirt once again. He's sliding the gap in the shirt over her head, finally seeing the exhaustion in her features. She'd clearly not slept, and her expressions were barely there. Like her body was doing the bare minimum to show any exertion.

"I, guess I didn't want you to feel bad? I've had worse." She points out. Din gives a nod, continuing with pulling the fabric over each limb carefully, not wanting to harm her anymore than she was already hurting. When it's finally on, the two seem to let out a breath.

"I was doing my job. I won't feel guilty about that." His answer finally comes after what seems to be the longest gap in time. His hands are back on the e-bacta shot, prepping it as Mari seemingly shifts.  He looks to her briefly, slowly lifting a corner of the overly large t-shirt from her abdomen. "Hold this." He offers, her obediently doing so. He preps the spot before moving to administer it, the woman leaning away from him as the needle approaches. He stands upright, medical device retreating. "Mari. You asked me to." He hates to bring it up, seeing as she was seemingly miserable to even consider it, after her reaction from earlier.

"I know, I know." She takes a breath, keeping her head forward and closing her eyes. She tells herself not to move, but the pinch of the needle never comes. Instead, a large hand wrapped in leather finds its way in between her fingers, holding onto her rather tightly.

"Squeeze my hand." He encourages her, starting to count down so she can prepare - and she does. The tiny knuckles of her fingers start to turn white as he completes the procedure. When he's done, Mari opens her eyes softly, looking to him as he cleans back up, moving across the room to the cot's room to grab the blanket from there. He flings it over his shoulder, coming back to her and helping her lay down. "Is it working yet?" He asks, trying to gauge how close to sleep she was.

"Mmmm, I think... I think so..." She feels so relaxed, so calm, and for once in a few weeks so safe. She can feel the gentle softness of the blanket fall over her. A muttered  'goodnight, Mari' coming from the Mandalorian as she slowly begins to inhale the most wonderful smell. The smell is something of clean mint and beautiful lavender, with a robustness of.. pine? She's not sure, but whatever it is, it's very pleasant. And it helps lul her into the pain-free and most comfortable sleep she's had in a while.

[ssa-lesbian]

and after it all, you’re finally here

word count: 4k words

On a trip to New York, JJ finds herself face to face with an old friend.

-> read on ao3

(Post-canon and canon compliant; takes place a year after the end of S15. Emily has been promoted to FBI Director, JJ succeeds her as Unit Chief of the BAU.)

---~.~---

Central Park is nice, JJ thinks, watching her son as he scampers up the large rock formation, carefully selecting footholds before clambering up higher, boyish excitement evident. The park is almost completely sheltered from the rest of New York City, dulling the noise of city life and the bustling of pedestrians and cars, a welcome peace after living in Washington D.C. for most her life.

Henry is here for a Quiz Bowl tournament, a kind of general trivia competition. His middle school’s team made it all the way to Nationals, and both JJ and Will had some vacation time lined up, so they figured they’d make it a family trip. It’s Saturday morning, and Henry and Will are at the local Academy for the preliminary rounds. Although JJ wanted the entire family there, Michael wanted to go to Central Park, and Henry agreed that he should go there.

“The prelims are only gonna be in the morning anyways,” he had explained, “so you can take Michael to the park and come see me in the afternoon.”

Watching Michael disappear over the other side of the rock, JJ feels herself smile. On the one hand, she’s so proud of Henry, proud of him for finding a comfortable compromise that satisfied the entire family, even if it took a small sacrifice from him. On the other, she’s wary at how mature he is, at how understanding he is that he is willing to make a sacrifice, to make sure his little brother is happy, and that subconsciously, he knows that if Michael wanted to go to the park, JJ would want to go with him to keep him safe. With his father in a school full of children and administration and adults, Henry would be safe, but in a strange and foreign park, JJ would prefer to keep watch over Michael than allow anyone else.

It’s jarring, she supposes, at how understanding he is. How analytical he is, despite his young age. It’s probably because of Spence; he’s definitely closer to his godfather than Michael, learning quickly and ravenously through the young man’s lectures and rambles, and their relationship is the reason why Henry is so proficient in Quiz Bowl. She attended one of their meets once out of curiosity, just to see how it worked. It was like jeopardy-- the speaker would give a question, and whichever team answered the fastest and also got the question right received the most points. Henry scored most of the team’s points, hitting his buzzer and giving the answer within milliseconds, and that evening, JJ called Spence to tell him of Henry’s exploits.

“Well, it’s no surprise,” he had said. “Henry’s a fast learner, even for his age.”

“Just like his godfather,” she teased. She heard his smile over the phone and grinned.

With a jerk, JJ comes back to reality and frowns, seeing only the large stone formation and no blond hair. 

“Michael?” she calls, craning her neck to look from her seat. “Michael, where are you?”

Her second son is out of sight, and pushing down the rising panic, she stands up, only to sigh in relief as he reappears.

“Mommy, I made a friend,” he yells, scurrying to her in the way a five-year-old would, and following him is a small Asian girl, dressed in a pink sweatshirt and blue sweatpants, eyes timid and curious. JJ smiles at the girl but surveys the park.

“Hey sweetheart,” she says, ruffling Michael’s hair as he clutches at her leg and points to the girl. “Where are your parents?”

“Her name is Mia,” Michael interrupts, “and she lives in Brooklyn, and her favorite color is orange.”

JJ smiles at her but keeps her distance, her motherly instincts and memories at the BAU fighting an internal battle. Desperately, she wants to take hold of the child and make sure she’s safe, but too many cases of children being used by unsubs as bait stops her. The girl, to her credit, stands a few feet away, hands playing with the hem of her shirt and only looking at Michael.

“Mia! Mia, come back!”

The voice drags up memories, buried far down deep within JJ’s mind, and as the girl turns around, a figure appears from the other side of the rock formation.

“Mia, don’t run off like that,” the woman says, strolling forward and holding out her hand. Mia reaches out and grabs hold of it, only nodding as the woman continues gently scolding her, squeezing her hand in some sort of language. “You scared me, I couldn’t see you.”

As though only just noticing JJ, the woman straightens and smiles, only to freeze mid-greeting. JJ frowns; the woman seems familiar, with shoulder-length brown hair and hazel eyes, but she can’t quite place it-

“JJ,” she says, almost reverently.

JJ scans the woman quickly, lips pursing as she takes in her black trenchcoat and tall boots, and it all clicks together when she sees the tiny scar above her eyebrow.

“Elle.”

---~.~---

Mia and Michael get along well, the latter being the more rambunctious of the two, chirping and cheering and guiding Mia across the rock formations, him scampering along while Mia takes more calculated steps, the only signs of her enjoyment the shine in her eyes and the smile she has on her face. Elle sits next to JJ on the bench, a few inches away as though unsure just how close she can be after being gone for over fifteen years, and the brunette makes no attempt to hide her studying JJ.

It’s not like JJ isn’t studying her too. Years ago, Elle always had this blank look on her face, eyes either glazed and unfocused or hard and piercing, either quiet and solemn or biting and cruel. And then she was gone.

“Are you still at the BAU?” Elle finally asks.

Her voice is quiet but firm; that hasn’t changed. Her old cheekiness is gone, replaced instead with a weariness that comes after years of experience, but still strong and powerful, like when JJ first met her in the bullpen. 

“Yeah, I uh- I’m the Unit Chief, in fact.”

Elle arches her eyebrows in surprise, and a warm smile spreads on her face.

“Unit Chief?” 

JJ nods. 

“Congratulations. Did you ever become a profiler?”

Oh God. When she left, JJ was still the Communications Liaison, she didn’t know about her at the Pentagon or that she became a profiler or that Hotch and Morgan left-

“Yeah,” she says, “yeah, after a couple of years, I took the training.”

“That’s great, JJ,” she says, then winces. “Sorry-”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind,” JJ says swiftly.

Elle nods, a wariness in her eyes, and JJ wants to cry. You can call me JJ, we’re still friends, she wants to say, you’re my friend even though it’s been years, years since we’ve been more than friends.

“If you’re Unit Chief,” Elle says, realization dawning in her eyes, “then is Hotch--”

“He’s fine,” JJ says quickly, recognizing the fear in her eyes. “He’s still here, he just retired to spend time with Jack.”

Elle smiles warmly. 

“Jack. He’s what, 15, 16 now?”

“16,” JJ confirms, smiling. “He and my oldest, Henry, hang out a lot.”

“Henry,” the brunette says, almost as though savoring the word. JJ hums in some sort of affirmation, and her eyes mist over. JJ can almost see the way she pictures an older version of Michael as Henry, standing over his brother, and it makes her heart clench.

“How about Morgan?”

“Morgan retired a few years back, a bit before Hotch. He got married-”

“No way.”

JJ laughs, and it breaks the underlying tension immediately, Elle’s smile breaking into a laugh as they sit there under the morning sunlight, their children playing within the safety of the park, and for just a moment, everything feels right, like sixteen years ago and they were both in the bullpen trading looks as Morgan teased Reid.

“Yes, and he has a son. Hank Spencer Morgan.”

“Oh my God,” Elle says, and JJ notes the familiar twinkle in her eyes. “He’s got a kid? And he named it after Reid?”

“He’s wonderful.”

“No, I’m sure…… how’s Reid?”

“He’s a part time agent now,” JJ explains. “He lectures at Georgetown for the other half on break.”

“Good for him. Good for him, that’s great. Oh, Garcia…?”

“She left about a year ago, to work at a nonprofit nearby.”

“That’s cool. I’m glad she’s doing well.”

“Mm-hm””

There’s a pause as Elle struggles over what to say next, and instinctively,  JJ reaches out to touch her hand gently. She assumes she knows about Gideon- it had been in the news, what with the death of a senior FBI agent- and Elle meets her gaze. She holds it, and in that moment, it’s like they both understand, both see each other. There’s a rawness in her eyes that unravels JJ, and her hard brown eyes soften.

“You’ve changed,” Elle says, the tips of her mouth curling up slightly. “You’ve become-” a pause as she searches for the right word. “-harder.”

Her nose wrinkles as she frowns and JJ chokes back a snort. 

“No, no, that came out wrong. Reid would probably know what I’m talking about-”

“He could give you like fifty synonyms too,” JJ adds, and they both laugh before she stills a bit, realizing that Elle remembers a Reid before losing Gideon and before Tobias Hankel, a Reid before his mother’s Alzheimer’s and going to prison, and Elle notices her stillness. Something flashes in her eyes, and JJ remembers that Elle was a profiler once too, a fast learner, taking on eagerly after Gideon’s instructions and banter with Morgan, and Elle can probably read everything going on in JJ’s mind and has probably figured out something happened to Reid.

“So what’s with you?” she asks, desperately changing the subject before Elle is reminded further of the horrors of the BAU. “What have you been up to?”

A hard question. The last time JJ saw Elle, she had just shot a man and nearly had a traumatic breakdown. It’s asking a lot, JJ knows, but she also does want to know. Wants to know about Elle. She cares about her, she realizes. Still does.

From the rocks, Michael lets out a shriek, and Mia laughs, the first noise she’s made since JJ met her. Elle takes her time pondering on an answer, watching Mia with the look only a mother can have, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by JJ.

“I was a mess,” she says finally, “when I left. I was in a horrible place.”

JJ doesn’t say anything, only letting her fingers ghost over Elle’s hand. Her hand relaxes marginally.

“I couldn’t do anything. I didn’t have work for weeks, I was about to get evicted, and I was so,” she pauses, searching for a word before heaving a sigh. “Angry. I was angry. At everyone. At Hotch for sending me home. At Gideon for not helping. At Morgan, Reid, you, for not doing anything. At myself, for being so weak.”

JJ hums. It wasn’t your fault. They should’ve done something, she knows. She should’ve done something, she and Elle were so close, she knew something was wrong, but she did nothing.

“And then my sibling came to visit. Nico. They came to check on me since I hadn’t been answering my phone, and the first thing they told me was that I looked like shit.” 

She barks out a laugh.

“I told them to fuck off. But Nico’s a lot like Reid, they care a lot and they won’t stop until they can help you, and they came back later that night with takeout and some soap and shampoo, and they said they wouldn’t go until I ate some real food and washed myself up.”

“I moved in with them, with them and their partner in Maine, until they made sure I was gonna make it. It was bad. God, JJ, it was so bad. I was a fucking alcoholic, I was suffering from withdrawal, Nico was driving me to therapy every week, and I was not having a good time.”

Unconsciously, JJ squeezes her hand. I know. Oh God, does she know. Elle’s fingers reach up for hers, and they tangle, sitting in this space as the former agent stares out, eyes unfocused.

“It took years,” Elle says finally. “I think- I still have nightmares. I still get angry. But I’m trying new medication, and I’m going to therapy, and I’m making it work. It’s working out.”

JJ smiles. “Good for you. I’m happy for you.”

Elle’s hand squeezes hers, and JJ squeezes back. This nonverbal communication is familiar, she thinks, albeit in very different circumstances.

“How did you meet your partner?” she asks. Elle’s with Mia, a child of at least five years, and there’s no wedding ring that JJ can see. Elle flushes, and JJ’s smile grows mischievous.

“Five years ago,” the brunette admits. “I moved back to New York and joined NYPD when I stabilized, and one night, it was like two, and I heard this baby crying. Except this happened multiple nights in a row, and I’d been having a rough week at work, so I went downstairs to try and talk to the mom and--”

Elle smiles, reminiscing. “She told me to go fuck myself.”

JJ snorts, and the brunette nods, eyes misting a little.

“Yeah, after that, I apologized, and she just- broke down. I didn’t know what to do, but there were groceries scattered everywhere and she had a backpack full of books and her baby was still crying, so I just went in and put her groceries away, and when I finished, she was just sitting there, watching me, holding the baby. She asked me why I was helping her, and I didn’t know, I just wanted to. So I gave her my number, said if she ever needed anything she could just call and I’d come, and I left.”

“This sounds like a romance novel,” JJ says. “Keep going.”

Elle rolls her eyes before pushing JJ gently, and she giggles as she continues.

“Well, the next day, at about ten PM, I get a call, and it’s from the mom. And she sounds like she’s on the verge of breakdown, and she asks me if maybe I could watch her kid for just another hour that night because she’s late getting back from work, and I say sure, and she gives me the code to her apartment and I go in and watch over the kid, Mia. And she doesn’t get back until nearly one, and when she arrives, she’s apologizing and about to cry, and I tell her it’s no problem, Mia’s been a delight and it wasn’t like I was busy or anything, and she just nods and thanks me. Her name’s Jasmine, she tells me, and I save her number in my phone, and I go back to my apartment to sleep. And when I wake up, I have a text from her, and she’s asking me if I could possibly babysit Mia in the evenings after six for the next week. And I tell her of course, no worries, I’d love to. She starts talking about prices, I tell her it’s not a problem, I’ll do it for free, I get- I get what it’s like to struggle with work and caring for kids.”

“And because she’s pretty,” JJ prompts, and Elle flushes a darker red before laughing.

“Okay, maybe that too. But, well, we work out a pattern- after my shifts, I grab dinner and clean up before grabbing some books and my laptop to bring to her apartment, and I feed Mia and clean her diapers and everything, Jasmine comes back at some god-awful hour of the night, and then I head back and sleep and then go to my shifts.”

“On like five hours of sleep?” JJ asks, impressed at her dedication but also remembering how passionate Elle was- is. She nods, grinning sheepishly.

“Yeah, I didn’t- I wanted to help out. One time, I fell asleep at her place, and when Jasmine got back, she didn’t want to wake me, so she just pulled a blanket over me and I spent the night on her couch. And-” 

There it is. A goofy smile on her face that JJ can only describe as “love-struck.”

“She had left before I woke up, but she made me breakfast and left me a note explaining that the day babysitter would be coming around at about nine and she hoped I liked eggs.”

The grin on JJ’s face is so large, her cheeks hurt, and Elle snorts at her. “Please stop looking at me like that, I feel like I’m in the spotlight.”

“No, keep talking,” JJ says. “What happened next?”

Elle shrugged.

“I kept babysitting. And Jasmine started coming back earlier, but we just ended up talking at night instead. I told her I was a cop at NYPD, and she said she knew, she’d seen me in the streets before-”

“It’s hard to forget such a stunning figure as yourself,” JJ remarks drily, and Elle laughs before continuing.

“Well, she was a nursing student at Chamberlain and working two jobs to try and cover tuition and take care of Mia, and-- well, Mia’s not hers, she’s her sister’s. But her sister and boyfriend died in a car wreck, and Jasmine was the only relative she had, so she took Mia in. And the night I went to go talk to Jasmine, her old babysitter had quit a few days earlier and she had left Mia alone for so many nights because she didn’t have the time to take care of her properly, and…..”

Elle is quiet, but JJ understands. She knows about Elle growing up, the sole caretaker of her and her three younger siblings, mother gone working three jobs to support the family after her father died, whispered to her in tangled sheets and silver moonlight, and she knows what Elle went through, knows what Elle saw in Jasmine that night.

“I offered to take care of Mia for the rest of her semester. Just for her to get through her finals, and then I offered to care for Mia throughout the summer if she needed, and Jasmine-”

A pause.

“Jasmine is great,” she says. “She’s stubborn and proud and a bit bitey, but she cares so much. She was about to throw me out when I offered, but then I told her about my mom, and she asked me if I thought of her as a horrible person. And I didn’t. And I told her so, and so I was Mia’s babysitter for the rest of the semester, and then the summer, and then the year after that, and then- I asked her out.”

Elle stammers a little, and JJ chuckles at the flush running through her, her put-together composure falling apart at the memory.

“I didn’t want it to be like I was taking advantage of her, since I was the older, more experienced one, and she said she was flattered, but she needed to think about it, and I told her I understood. And then the next day when she came back from work, she told me she was an idiot and she said of course she wanted to go out with me.”

JJ lets out a small squeal, and Elle laughs. She’s invested in her, invested in her story, and it’s comforting. Comforting to see her build herself back up and to be building another chapter in her story.

“She moved in with me after a few months so money wouldn’t be as tight, and two years ago she got her nursing license and so we moved together. And Mia’s attending kindergarten right now, and everything is coming together.”

“That’s great,” the blonde says softly. “Elle, that’s so great.”

“It is,” she agrees. “They’re so wonderful- Mia’s only five, and she already knows English, Manderin, and Spanish. Jasmine’s teaching me Manderin too so I can figure out what Mia’s saying since she just cycles through all three languages in one sentence.”

JJ laughs, the thought of the quiet five year old currently chasing Michael around the rocks speaking three languages at once soothing. She’s distracted by the vibration in her pocket, and with an apologetic hand gesture to Elle, who waves it off, she pulls it out to see it’s Will.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Henry won!” Will shouts, heard just barely over the background noise of cheering kids. “Henry’s team made it to the semis, they start in two hours!”

“Honey, that’s great,” JJ says, smiling. “Michael and I’ll be there in an hour. Take care, okay?”

“That’s the only thing I can do. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

When JJ hangs up, she can feel Elle’s gaze on her, and when she turns, she’s met with a smirk. JJ rolls her eyes and smiles.

“We were in New York for a competition, Henry’s team made it to semis,” she explains, pride rushing through her, and Elle smiles.

“Congratulations,” she says. A quiet beat, and JJ realizes she’s fixated on her wedding ring. She swallows. It’s obvious she was talking to Will, but she remembers that Elle also has never met Will, has no reason to know about him, and it’s weird, so to speak. That she’s sitting with a woman who knows her as intimately as her husband does.

“I suppose you have to go then?” Elle asks, and JJ nods. 

Elle stands up and extends her hand, and the blonde takes the offer. They stand, and the look on Elle’s face is so tender yet at peace, no wanting or desire underneath it. They’ve both found their place, JJ muses. Elle overcoming her demons and finding her own little family, JJ still with her passion at the BAU and with her loving family.

“I’ll give you my number,” Elle says, holding out her hand, and JJ presses her phone into immediately. “Let me know the next time you’re in town, and we can meet up. You can meet Jasmine and Mia again, and I can meet Henry and your husband.”

“Will,” JJ clarifies, “and of course. Michael!” she calls. “We have to go, your brother won.”

Michael shouts in excitement, and by the time he’s made it over to JJ, Mia following, Elle has her phone number in, and JJ tenderly enters into her contacts, Elle Greenaway.

“My big brother won a contest,” Michael explains to Mia, “so we have to go and see him.”

“That’s cool,” Mia says, voice a little shy as she peers up at JJ. She waves at her, and the young girl smiles cheekily at her as she grasps the end of Elle’s pant leg. The love in her eyes as she watches Mia doesn’t go unnoticed, and JJ internally captures this moment.

“It was nice seeing you again,” Elle says, extending her hand for a handshake, and JJ stares dumbly at it before laughing.

“Okay, no.”

She pulls Elle into a hug, wrapping her arms around her tightly, and after a brief moment of shock, she feels her arms wrap around her, and JJ buries her face in Elle’s neck, inhaling her scent, a smell JJ never really quite forgot. It seems like forever before she finally breaks the hug, mindful that they need to leave soon, and when they finally break apart, she has to wipe away a tear as Elle watches her with misty eyes.

“I’ll see you soon,” JJ promises, and Elle smiles.

“Take care, JJ,” is her parting remark, and JJ turns and walks away.

“Bye Mia!” Michael calls, and there’s a responding goodbye from Mia that slowly fades as the two make their way out of Central Park.

The walk is silent until Michael finally asks, “Mommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Who was that lady?”

JJ is quiet for a bit, and when she responds, it’s with a smile and a squeeze of his hand.

“That was an old friend of mine. Her name is Elle.”

[purplebass]

Dark Light - Last Chapter // Blackdale

Hi everyone! Thank you for reading this. It was the first multi-chapter fan fiction I finished, so this is a great accomplishment for me. I really hope you enjoyed this. I loved writing it, and I hope you will also check out my work in the future. Enjoy, and thank you!!! 🥺🌼✨

Couple/Characters: Blackdale, Lucie Herondale and Jesse Blackthorn Rating: T

10. Last Chapter + Epilogue

There wasn’t time to do anything, because the moment they took Tatiana Blackthorn away, they also asked for Lucie and Jesse to come back to London. It is probably temporary, Lucie thought, since they just needed them to testify against the woman. Deep down, she wanted to return to the Institute for good. Maybe it was too early to hope that the Clave would change their mind about their exile. She didn’t want to keep her hopes up for them to be crushed again, so she didn’t hope for anything.

That night, she enjoyed Cordelia’s company in front of the fire. The others had left already, and they had taken Jesse with them. She knew he would stay at uncle Gabriel’s house, and the thought comforted her, but she wished she could have a moment to speak with him. She was curious, but also afraid of what he might have to say about her confession. 

Had she been impulsive? Definitely. She had harbored these feelings for so long, deep in her heart, but she had never given them a proper name. Or probably just ignored them, thinking that they would just hurt her if she acknowledged them. But they were there, and couldn’t look away anymore. She wondered if things would change, once they returned to the Cornwall Institute.

“What are you thinking? Can’t you believe you’re home?” Cordelia asked, and grabbed Lucie’s hand. 

Lucie had been staring at the hearth. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening,” she apologized, and sighed. Bridget had brought them cookies when they arrived, and she took one from the plate. 

“You must be shook,” Cordelia said. “She might have killed you.”

“She wanted to kill her son,” her voice shook, and her shoulders sagged. “She tried to poison him.”

Cordelia gasped, and put a comforting hand behind Lucie’s back. “Now he is safe, though. Wait, Lucie,” she peered at her. “Do you love him?”

“Is it evident?” she wondered, and covered her face with her hands. 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Cordelia continued. “I also love James.”

Lucie frowned for a second, but then she smiled at her friend. “I knew it!” she exclaimed, and grabbed Cordelia by the shoulders. “I knew you loved him.”

There was an unspoken, I wish you would have told me, between the two, but no one said anything. The most important thing was that the truth was out. 

 …

The following morning, Lucie woke up disoriented. Then she remembered, with a bitter laugh, that she was in her room at the Institute, and in her bed. She better enjoyed it while it lasted, she thought, and got ready to go downstairs to eat breakfast. She found everyone but her parents in the kitchen. Cordelia stood from her chair and came to hug her. James, who was talking to Matthew, waved at her. The former also winked at Lucie, and gave her a tight hug. 

“How are you doing, Lucie?”

“How are you doing, Matthew?” she cocked her head to the side, one eyebrow raised. 

“He’s okay, he’s okay,” James interjected, grabbing him by the shoulders. 

“I know how to talk, thank you very much,” Matthew said, sitting down in front of Cordelia. “Let’s talk later if we have time, shall we?”

“Whenever you want,” Lucie responded, and gave him a bitter laugh, wondering if that moment would ever come. She didn’t know how much time she had left before they would ask her to go back to Cornwall.

Bridget had prepared bread and butter pudding, which was Lucie’s favorite, and she enjoyed it to the very last bite while talking to her closest friends. James told her that Christopher and Thomas would get there in a few hours with Anna, whom she hadn’t seen in two months. No one said anything about Jesse. It was as if he didn’t exist, or if they didn’t mention him because he wasn’t part of their group.

Everyone was gathered in the drawing room, when her parents finally arrived. Yes, because her father had been screaming Lucie’s name so loud that it was impossible not to know they were back. Each one of the people present stopped whatever they were doing and looked at each other, frowning. They all knew Will’s antics, so it’s not like they were surprised.

“Uncle Will must be cheerful that Lucie is back,” Christopher said, and they all laughed, until Will stumbled in the room. His cheeks were red, as if he had raced there.

Lucie came near her father, concerned. “Papa, what’s wrong?” there was fear in her tone. Let’s hope he doesn’t say I have to go back.  Let’s hope he doesn’t say-

“Lucie, my dear!” Will beamed, and hugged his daughter. “They let you go!”

“Who let me go?” she questioned.

“Come on, I mean the Clave!” Will replied, glancing in Lucie’s eyes. “They decided that since you didn’t use the Black Volume after all, but just stole it, and caught the person who indeed used it in the past, they wanted to grace you with freedom. Of course, not just you. Tatiana’s boy has no blame either. On the other hand, he’s one of her victims.”

Tears welled up in Lucie’s eyes, and she couldn’t do anything but cry of joy on her father’s chest.

…

The following two weeks, they received news about Tatiana Blackthorn. She was put before the Inquisitor, tried with the Mortal Sword, and taken to the Silent City to be locked for the rest of her life. She hadn’t wanted to go to the trial, but she was asked to go as a witness. Tatiana not only admitted that she tried to kill her own son. She also planned to kill Lucie and take him away with her somewhere, and she enlisted a warlock to do that. Tatiana had uttered a name, but it later turned out to be a vagabond who lived in the slums. The warlock or whoever helped the woman might have been powerful and aware of what they were doing, if they were able to run away just like this. Lucie wondered if they ever found this person, but at this point, she did not care.

She wanted to know how Jesse was doing. Where was he, what were his thoughts. If he was feeling alone. Lucie decided to be bold and ask her mother casually over tea, the day after Tatiana’s trial. She couldn’t go on not knowing, especially after confessing her love to him. She had let two weeks fly and waited for a sign, which did not come. Was this his way to kindly reject her? She thought it wasn’t something he would do. He was too honest to just move on with his life and ignore her. If he didn’t feel the same about her, he would tell her.

“He’s decided to live at uncle Gabriel’s until he finds another place, that’s what your aunt Cecily told me,” Tessa said, sipping her white tea. “They are happy because they never got to know him, and now they can. Gideon and Sophie decided to take a trip back from Idris just so they can also spend time with him. I’m sure he’s surrounded by people who love him.”

Lucie nodded. “Yes, I’m sure it’s true.”

Once the tea was over, Lucie decided to go back to her room. She was inspired to write, or better. She hoped that writing would help her not think about Jesse. She wondered when it would be okay for her to visit him at the Lightwoods, without seeming too suspicious. They all knew that Jesse had stayed two months with her in Cornwall, but no one knew the extent of their relationship. They didn’t know they had known each other before he was revived, and that she had already developed feelings for him back then. She didn’t know how to handle all of this.

Lucie caught someone coming out of her father’s office on her way back to her room. If it wasn’t for the straight black hair, she would have thought it was her brother. But it wasn’t James. It was Jesse. She was too far to hear what they were saying, but she believed they were having a friendly conversation because she heard her father’s jovial laugh. 

She advanced. She hadn't seen Jesse for a few weeks, and her spirits soared upon seeing him.  It sounded like a repeat of her first stay at the Cornwall Institute, but in a different place. 

Both men turned to her when they heard her heels on the carpet. Jesse smiled slightly, and so did Will. 

"Lulu, good morning," her father said. She widened her eyes at the mention of her nickname from him. Her cheeks warmed, and she glared at him. “Lucie, good morning,” he said again, and made an apologetic smile. 

"I didn't know you had guests," she said, trying not to look too obvious when she gazed up at Jesse. She frowned at him, trying to let him know that she would have loved to know about what he had been up to. It hurt. It felt like he had been avoiding her, but perhaps he had just been busy with his found family. “You could have called for me.”

"I was surprised too, my dear," Will replied, and Lucie bit her lip. Was she too obvious? "Mr. Blackthorn came to personally bring us the invite for an informal ball at his house." 

"A ball?" 

"It's not a ball per se, but a party to celebrate my return," Jesse grinned. "I have decided to restore Chiswick to its splendor, with my uncles and aunts help. There is still so much to do, but I decided to start from the ballroom, which was the room which required less effort to tidy up." 

“I… see, and I’m glad to participate,” Lucie murmured. Those news lifted her mood. Warmth filled her chest, and their eyes locked for a long time, until her father cleared his voice.

“Alright, I believe Mr. Blackthorn has to go,” Will announced, and Lucie snapped back to reality, glancing away from the weird duo before her. “We will be honored to join you for this special event, next Saturday. I can’t wait to see Chiswick’s ballroom again, you know why,” he continued. Jesse nodded a greeting at Lucie before her father put an arm behind his back to lead him away from her. 

She asked herself why Jesse would know the reason her father wanted to see his ballroom again, but it probably had to do his and her mother’s past. She shrugged.

…

Saturday couldn’t come any sooner, but Lucie knew that time was slower when one was eager to do something they wanted. Lucie’s mother Tessa had taken her daughter to Bond Street to buy her a new dress for the event. It wasn’t the first time they had shopped for dresses together, and Lucie was happy with the suggestion because she had already deemed all of her clothes unfit for the occasion. She wasn’t vain, but she thought she needed a fresh start, and her mother agreed, so they spent more than they would normally do. This night would also celebrate the end of Lucie’s exile, and she wanted to look good.

And she thought she did. She chose an embellished satin blue dress with short sleeves, which complemented her eyes, and put her hair up. She reached Chiswick with her family, but once the carriage stopped, she ran off. No one said anything, since it wasn’t rare for Lucie to go inside and go find her friends. She caught sight of Cordelia, and she waved at her, but before she could reach her, Lucie muttered that she had to do something first. 

She had thought a lot during the last few days, and resolved that she needed to act. It was nor or never. She couldn’t wait for Jesse anymore to make the first step. If he would ever move, that is. She found him by the table filled with cocktails and food, speaking to a few people she couldn’t recognize. His eyes found Lucie’s in an instant, and he excused himself and went to her. She thought he looked amazing in his black and white evening suit.

“You came,” he said softly. “You’re late.”

Lucie rolled her eyes. She knew he was joking. “The people who count always come late,” she told him, smirking, and raised an eyebrow at him. 

He grinned. “Come on, let’s go somewhere quieter to talk,” he suggested, and Lucie followed him outside of the ballroom, which was in a separate wing of the building. 

There were a lot of people, she saw, all over the property. He must have invited the whole Clave. She was too distracted looking around that she shivered when he secured her hand in his and smiled warmly at her. 

They were walking on a path in between the grass, and Lucie realized that she had already been there in the past. Her suspicions were confirmed when they stopped in front of the greenhouse doors. He opened one for her, and she entered, ready to face the disruption she had seen the last time she had been there, but she was astonished when she saw the place looked entirely different from the way she remembered it. Most of the plants had been either cut or substituted by new ones, and fresh, colorful flowers grew at the sides of the greenhouse. Now it was bright and clean like she had never seen it before. A witchlight here and there lighted the ambient and made it look like some place out of a fairytale.

“Do you like it, Lucie?”

“It’s wonderful,” she commented, seeing how many types of plants were actually there. “How did you do this?”

“I called several gardeners, and-” he interrupted himself, because she was rolling her eyes at him. “Okay, I’ll stop humoring you, Lucie. I was saying-”

“Why didn’t you come to see me after we got back?” she interjected. She understood that he wanted to tell her about the greenhouse and how he had restored it, but she needed to talk about important matters first. “I thought you would come,” she murmured, trying not to seem too hurt. “I believed you would talk to me.”

“I also asked myself the same thing,” he admitted, and she thought he was honest. “I needed time, Lucie. Time to think. I thought about what I wanted to do with my future, now that my mother has been taken away. If I could live as a shadowhunter, or I would rather live as a mundane. Do you know that my father left me a hefty inheritance? I could sit down all day and do nothing for the rest of my life, and I would still have money to survive,” he chuckled.

“Exercise is important,” Lucie said, and they both laughed. 

“Yes, and not only that,” Jesse’s face turned serious. “It didn’t take me long to resolve what I wanted to do. The first thing I decided to dedicate myself to, was remodeling this house. I talked about it with my uncles, and they all agreed to help me with this. They are all incredibly nice and sweet, and I’m angry at my mother for lying about them. She said they were evil, and I even believed her. But now I know better,” he glanced at a cactus for a moment, and sighed. “Can you believe they said that they want me to keep Chiswick?”

“I do believe you, Jesse,” she nodded. She was aware of her uncles and aunts’ generosity. 

“The second thing I resolved to do, was trying to understand if I could be a shadowhunter. You know that my mother also forbade me to live this life, literally, and I told myself: you should do it if you want to do it. I still don’t know much about it, but I am a good learner.”

“Yes, you are,” she agreed again, and he smiled at her. 

“And if you’d help me, and you’d teach me, I’m sure I’ll get better in no time,” he said, and got closer to her.

“Of course I will help you. Of course.”

“Be with me, Lucie,” he took her hands in his. “Marry me.”

Lucie’s jaw dropped, and her skin flushed. Her heart would leap out of her chest if it could, she was sure. “But… don’t you believe it’s too early for this? I’ve just turned seventeen, we’re both seventeen, and…”

“We can wait until you are ready to make this step, but I can’t wait for you to give me an answer. I’ve lost seven years of my life already. I don’t want to lose more time and lose more occasions. I want to finally live my life,” he said with hope. 

It was an honest request.

“With me?”

“Why does it sound too weird to you, Lucie? I think my life gained color when I first met you. After then, it was a crescendo of hues. You let me live even when I couldn’t. I wouldn’t want to tie your life to mine, knowing that I was dead. I wouldn’t want to subject you to the fate of loving someone who couldn’t be the person you deserved by your side, because I was half-alive. I would have never confessed my feelings for you, had I stayed a ghost.”

“Do you… love me?” her voice shook, and tears started to well in her eyes. 

“Again, I wonder why does it sound impossible to you that I love you, Lucie?” Jesse asked, caressing her cheek tenderly. “I think I fell for you before I gave your brother my last breath. I thought I loved you because you were the only other person who could see me, but I was wrong. I waited for the night to fall so I could be with you. I missed you. I never developed any affection for anyone before you, and I realized it’s because you are special. And the Jesse Blackthorn who spent two months with you before I regained my memories knew it too.”

“Do you remember?”

“Yes, I remembered what happened after you brought me to life. I remember that I doubted you, but then asked for your help and you hid me while we figured how to get my memories back. I remember the first rune you drew on my arm when we entered this very house to bring the Black Volume back, and your shock when you saw me at the Cornwall Institute. I also remember our first kiss, and the way I fainted,” he laughed. “I already remembered after Magnus Bane finished performing that spell on me. I couldn’t place those frames at first, but then they clicked. Everything fell into place. And I… had to do something about it.”

“You organized a ball,” Lucie commented with a grin. 

“I wanted to celebrate my life… Selfish, isn’t it?”

“Nah, you deserve it, Jesse Blackthorn. You’re the least self-centered person I know, although you are arrogant at times,” she shrugged, and he frowned. “And I love you. I want to be with you as long as life allows us to be together.”

He beamed, and smiled widely. “Can I kiss you, Lucie?”

“You can kiss me anytime you want,” she replied. “And this, of course, goes both ways,” Lucie said, and she rose on the balls of her feet to kiss him before he would do it.

He gave her his family ring next, and slid it on her fourth finger. They agreed on telling the news to everyone that night, and Jesse confessed that her parents already knew. 

“That’s why I came to the Institute personally the other day,” Jesse told her as they returned back to the party. “I asked your father the permission to marry you.”

“And what did he say?” she asked, curious.

“He said that it was up to you. It wasn’t up to him to give me his permission. You were the only one who could accept or refuse my proposal. He added that if you said yes, he would know that I was worthy of you, because you would never choose somebody who didn’t deserve you.”

Lucie laughed. “Come on, let’s hurry. I think he is eager to find out what i said.”

...

EPILOGUE 6 Years Later

London, Spring 1910

 “And then, the princess exclaimed: I came to destroy you! You dared to make the prince fall into a deep sleep, and I’ll never forgive you for this!” Lucie exclaimed giddily, as she dressed her son in the green pants and white shirt she had chosen for the event they were throwing that night. Lucie believed the baby needed to shine as much as his parents, since this party was also for him. “No, you won’t crush me! You’re just a little girl!” she continued, and the baby laughed as she put on his socks and shoes. “I’m not a little girl!” she said in a different one of voice, pretending she was fifteen years younger than she was now.

“Is prince Theodore ready, my lady?” Jesse asked from the doorway, as Lucie finished the last touch on their son’s outfit, a cute dark green bow tie.

Theodore was a healthy two year old baby with Lucie’s brown hair and blue-green eyes. Not quite like the color of either of his parents, but more of a mix between the two. Perhaps it would turn into the Blackthorn-Herondale trademark color. Who knew.

“He is now,” she replied, and she turned her face to let her husband of four years kiss her on the lips. “And so am I, thanks for asking.”

“I helped you close the zip of your dress because it got stuck, earlier,” he winked, and grabbed his jacket from the chair, then picked baby Theodore from the changing table, and kissed his cheek. The baby giggled excitedly.

Lucie checked herself in the mirror one last time, then they went down at the top of the stairs outside to wait for their guests, as they usually did on such occasions. It was their fourth wedding anniversary, and they had made it a tradition to throw a party at Blackthorn Hall every year. Blackthorn Hall used to be Chiswick House. They thought it deserved a name change after they had restored the place, to symbolize its renovation and brand new life. 

They saw a few carriages approach, and Lucie smiled to herself. The party was about to begin.

“The zip of my dress didn’t get stuck,” she said out of the blue, continuing the conversation they were having inside. “I just gained weight on my stomach,” she glanced at him with a smirk.

Jesse frowned at first. “It’s okay Lu-” he said, then realized what she meant, and his eyes widened, filled with surprise but also joy. “Are you with child?” 

Lucie smiled lovingly at her husband. “Happy Fourth Anniversary, my love,” she told him, and he gave her another kiss.

“I wanted to wait later to give this to you, but since we’re here,” he said, and took a white envelope from his pocket and gave it to her. “It came in the mail this morning. It looks thick.”

She glanced at her husband with expectations and hope. “Let’s open it,” she muttered, and started reading as fast as she could. She was trying to finish before the carriages would get too close to the house. “By the angel, by the angel!”

“What does it say?”

“Mrs. Lucie Blackthorn, we are happy to inform you that we found your manuscript interesting and creative, and we look forward to working with you. We would love to publish your work as soon as possible. Please come to our office as soon as you can, to sign the contract. Sincerely, Parks of London Publishing House,” she said, and she started jumping on the spot. “They will publish my book!”

“Careful, careful, though,” he advised, putting an arm on her shoulder and kissing her head. “I’m so happy for you, my beloved. Happy anniversary.”

And they all lived happily ever after.

Taglist (if you want to be added or removed, send me a PM): @princesslucretia @kit-12 @immortal-enemies @lucian-evander @esa-emery @danieldyers @blackthorn-trash @rinadragomir @fortunesandfables @itsdaughterofthemoon @silvenys@thomastair3 @livvyheronstairs @ holding-infinity-and-a-book @lovelaces @axoloteca 

[firesoulstuff]

Accidental Baby Acquisition from the tropes + Jax and Sara (as friends) please?

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15962468/chapters/68072311

“Apartment’s empty.” Jax says into his comm. “No ones home.”

“Great.” Rip sighs on the other end, his voice making it very clear that the report is anything but great. “Ok, come back.”

Jax turns, intent on relaying the message to Sara, but she’s gone.

“Sara?” He calls, stepping deeper into the apartment instead of closer to the exit.

They’re looking for a woman who is supposed to be insignificant to the timeline, but instead she disappeared from her apartment and she’s going to be found dead by the end of the week. Her dad is a big wall street guy and the body turning up is set to lead him to doing some pretty reckless, dangerous, and timeline destroying things. So, they’ve got to find her alive.

“Jax…” Sara’s voice is coming from the bedroom, which she’d told him was empty before he’d reported to Rip.

Why is she still in there?

Inside the room is dark, the bed made and nothing out of place. Sara’s standing on the other side of the bed, her hands on her hips and her lip between her teeth as she looks at him with a look that spells disaster.

“What?” He asks, coming around the corner of the bed, and he stops short.

He blinks, his brain not processing at first what he’s seeing. It’s a lump. A red, blotchy, breathing… Oh.

It’s a baby.

It’s a new baby, with the cord still attached and dried blood covering it from head to toe.

He strips off his jacket without a word, they can’t just leave the thing here. He gets down to his knees and spreads the jacket out on the ground… and that’s when he hesitates.

His hands are hovering, barely off the jacket. How… How is he supposed to…?

“You get the baby.” Sara says, getting next to him and gathering up the cord as well as the lump attached at the other end of it, what was that thing called again?

Whatever it’s called she folds it up and lays it in his jacket, to the side but not in the sleeve.

Get the baby, sure, easier said then done.

He’s holding his breath as he hovers over the baby. He isn’t sure how to grab it – her. It’s easy to tell the baby’s a girl, not that that really helps him much. She’s asleep, sort of, her eyes are closed, but she’s whimpering like she’s right on the edge of waking up, and he really doesn’t want to be the thing that pushes her over.

“Ok.” Sara eventually says, out of patience with him. She crawls into his space, leans over, and slowly but smoothly slips her hands under the baby and moves her.

“Grab your jacket.” She instructs him very matter-of-factly. “Wrap her up.”

He does as he’s told, the baby’s whimpers starting to get louder before she’s even done telling him what to do.

“Shhh… Shh… It’s ok baby, I got you. I got you.” Sara whispers to the baby, bringing her close to her chest and so he follows the path with his hands holding the jacket awkwardly and trying to both get the baby wrapped up and not drop the organ attached to her.

Unfortunately, Sara bringing the baby to her chest turns out to be a mistake.

The room isn’t exactly well lit, and truth be told he is mostly focusing on not dropping anything, but maybe it’s because “anything” includes the baby he is trying to get ahold of that he sees what happens. He knows enough about babies to know they operate mostly on instincts, and that’s the only way he can explain it. With Sara practically leaning over the kid and bringing her close, the baby opens up her little mouth and then very abruptly realizes that there is a shirt in the way of what she thinks is a food source, and she does NOT appreciate it.

She starts screaming, like a switch has been turned on in her lungs and jammed on high. It’s so sudden he almost drops his jacket and the organ still attached to the kid. Sara fumbles a little too, but she clutches the kid tighter and even through that encourages the screams it also pulls on the cord and he’s able to keep his hold.

The two of them must look like a pair of circus monkeys scrambling over each other on the floor, trying to keep from making even more of a mess, or worse, hurting the baby. Eventually, somehow, they get the baby mostly wrapped in his jacket and to their feet, with Sara having a good enough hold on everything.

“You think there’s formula in the kitchen?” He asks, and no, Sara does not look like she thinks there’s formula in the kitchen.

“Couldn’t hurt to check.” She says anyway.

.

.

There was not any formula in the kitchen.

Instead of getting the baby fed the two of them had to hurry back to the Waverider with a screaming baby attracting attention at every turn.

It’s a wonder they didn’t get arrested on kidnapping suspicions.

Now things are a little calmer, at least. Gideon was able to fabricate a bottle and some formula so the baby is finally quiet and they can hear themselves think again.

Not that their thinking is doing them any good.

Jax his holing the baby right now, since Sara had needed two hands free to cut the cord properly. She’s still sucking down her bottle greedily and looking down at her… who could ever just leave her?

She’s adorable. Drowning in his jacket and looking up at him with shining brown eyes. In the bright light of the med bay he can see the dried bloody on all over her body is, in fact, very dry. It falls off easy in little flakes, and that only makes Jax wonder how long she’s been alone on that bedroom floor.

Rip’s supposedly working on figuring that out right now. Apparently there never was a baby in the original timeline, so he’s in the parlor, pacing and ranting to probably Ray something about “Why is there a baby?!”, and while Jax hopes they find an answer he also can’t help but worry Rip might come in here saying they have to go back and make sure this kid is never born.

“Careful.” Sara says, pulling him from his thoughts. She’s looking at him with that face she gets when she’s about to play the role of “only adult in the room.” “Remember the little siren we ran back here with. She may look cute, but she’s gonna cause a lot of trouble.”

He wants to roll his eyes, because what she’s really implying there is completely insane. He is not getting attached… At least not so much that he’s actually entertaining thoughts of this baby sticking around.

He looks down at her again, maybe in an attempt to prove his point.

Ok, so he’s entertaining the thoughts just a little bit, but he isn’t taking them seriously.

He looks back to Sara, trying to think of a comeback, but he’s saved from that because Snart comes knocking on the doorframe.

“I hope you’re not getting attached.”

His eyes are on Sara, not him, and Jax laughs.

“I’m not the one you need to be worried about.” Sara informs Snart, glancing over to him and so Snart follows her look, and Jax rolls his eyes.

Thankfully, though, instead of making a comment Snart turns back to Sara, all business.

“Raymond found the girl.” He informs her, “Our aberration is her boyfriend. Apparently a little over nine months ago in the Time Bastards timeline they both went to a club and never crossed paths. That didn’t happen this time. One night thing, she hid the pregnancy, or convinced herself it wasn’t real. Professor thinks after she gave birth she went into shock and left the apartment.”

“Stein thinks she got up and walked away from giving birth?” Sara asks, slowly, completely ignoring him looking on at this point and only looking at Snart. Still, even only seeing the side of her face Jax can tell she isn’t buying it.

“Might explain why Raymond found her passed out in a broom closet.” Snart informs her, unfazed, and understandably so.

That would explain that.

Sara seems to agree; based on the look she gives Snart.

“He’s on his way back with her now, figured it’d be better to bring her here to the med bay rather than call an ambulance and have to explain two time travelers already took the baby.”

Jax decides to fix his attention solely on the baby with that comment, let Sara and Snart snark at each other.

She’s done with her bottle now, sucking on nothing and so after a moment of internal debate he gently pulls it away from her and very carefully drags her up his front until he gets her settled on his shoulder and can start to tap her on the back the way he’s always seen it done in movies.

“You might want to take her to your room or something.” Snart says, looking to him. “Something tells me when Raymond gets here with the mom there’s gonna be a lot going on in here.”

He nods, “Ok, I’ll go soon as she burps.”

“Try rubbing her back instead of patting her.” Sara suggests, “I don’t know why, but it’s more effective.”

He does as she says, and maybe it’s coincidence or maybe it’s evidence, but either way the baby lets out a loud burp almost soon as he’s changed up his tactic.

Snart notices too, and raises his eyebrow at Sara.

“What?” Sara asks with a smirk. “I babysat all through high school, remember?”

“You learned to cut an umbilical cord babysitting?” Jax teases and she smirks at him.

“That my friend is all League of Assassins.”

He snickers, of course it is.

[cyn-00]

Moreid one shot, 13 - "the person I come home to"

Season 12, episode 6 "Elliott's pond" (the one where it's officially announced that Hotch is not part of the BAU anymore because Mr. Scratch - aka Peter Lewis - is stalking him and Jack, so Emily’s gonna be the new head of the team)

Reminder that in my fics based off of episodes from s. 11 ep. 18 on, I stick with Morgan leaving the bau which is canon in the show, BUT ofc Morgan and Reid are a couple and they live together at Reid's place because why not :)

I MANAGED TO PUT THE “keep reading” THINGIE! Albeit 6 months after I first started writing fics... better late than never, right?

Read it on AO3

-------------

Morgan opened the door of Reid's - and his - place. It was around 10 pm, so he wasn't 100% sure that Spencer would be home yet. But the small light on the dresser of the living room was on.

"Kid?" he called him, not seeing him around, while dropping his heavy bag on the floor.

"Here." he heard his gentle voice, coming from the kitchen.

He entered the small kitchen, only lit by the soft, warm light coming from the living room, and the street lights outside. Spencer was sitting at the table, looking out of the window like he was lost in his own head - it happened quite often. It wasn't always a bad symptom, though.

He was holding an almost full bottle of beer in his hand, placed on the table, his shirt was slightly unbuttoned: Derek guessed he'd come home not long before him.

Spencer wasn't a huge alcohol fan: beer was his only "comfort drink" when his mind was running too fast and he needed to slow it down a little bit. So that was the clue that made Derek understand something was kinda...off.

-

"Hey" he greeted Reid gently, approaching him and sitting on the chair right beside him.

Even though he could - barely - see only his face and the sparkle of the lampposts outside reflected on the glass bottle, he didn't turn the light on: it bothered Spencer's eyes when he was tired.

He didn't greet him back, neither move.

"Everything alright?" Morgan asked.

Spencer sighed and finally shifted his eyes to look at the bottle in his hand, his thumb toying with the corner of the half-unglued label.

"I don't know. Lot of stuff happened." he answered vaguely and with the least number of words possible - which was quite the unusual event.

Derek reached his hand forward to tuck behind Spencer's ear a lock of hair that was covering his eye, in order to see his face better.

"I'm listening." he simply said.

Silence.

Spencer rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers, closing his eyes like he had to funnel all of his concentration into choosing the right words.

"Hotch left."

-

Derek's heart sank deep into his chest. It was hard for Spencer to let go of the ones close to him - the team had had evidence of this many times over the years. In fact, to be fair, he was surprised that his only reaction to something like that was to casually grab a beer and sit in the dark. And Derek didn't feel quite sure that it was a good sign.

All of a sudden, he put 2 and 2 together.

"Let me guess..." Derek paused. "Peter Lewis?"

Spencer nodded, finally meeting his eyes for the first time since he came home.

"He's been stalking him and Jack for some time. So he decided it was best to go on Witness Protection." he explained further.

Derek nodded, remaining silent for a while to let Spencer feel free to get off his chest whatever he needed to, without interrupting his train of thought.

But Spencer never continued.

"...so...Rossi's the head of the team now?" he asked in the end, genuinely curious but at the same time almost certain he was right.

"No" Spencer shook his head, slightly smiling. "Emily is."

Derek's brows shot up in surprise. Knowing Emily, he wouldn't have expected her to take on such an important role - not that she didn't have the skills to do it, on the contrary, everyone thought very highly of her. Yes, she'd known the team for a long time and both Reid and JJ trusted her profoundly; but there was no denying that, in the past, everyone had seen her being kinda on and off the team, hesitant to stay in one place for long periods of time.

Morgan didn't blame her for it - not anymore: she was "wired" like that. It took him some time, but most of all it took getting over some grudges he used to hold on her, to understand this particular feature of her personality and be at peace with it. It was nothing personal.

-

Derek's faint smile faded away when he saw Spencer shifting his eyes to look outside again, taking a sip from his beer.

"Is- isn't it a good thing?" he asked apprehensively. There HAD to be something else: he was sure that Spencer was over the moon at the idea of Emily being head of their team. That couldn't be the problem.

Seeing that he wasn't about to answer any time soon, Derek inched closer to lean his elbows on his knees and placed his broad, warm hand on Spencer's leg, stroking his inner thigh with a thumb.

"Spencer. Look at me, please." he pleaded, his voice deep but gentle. He HATED seeing him like that. It made him go crazy.

Spencer finally looked straight into his eyes, like his touch had awakened him, and now he could hear him clearly.

"Tell me what's on your mind, kid." Derek subtly commanded, almost whispering at that point.

Spencer swallowed nervously, clenching his jaw.

"This job...it's continuously taking people away. And each time, it feels like...like it's taking away pieces of- of me... you know?" he paused, letting out a trembly sigh. "Elle, Gideon, Hotch, even Emily in some way... you"

Derek felt a lump in his throat. He didn't know what to answer. He couldn't guarantee that the job wouldn't take people away again - on the opposite, he could guarantee that it would. And he knew that Spencer knew it. There was nothing he could say that would make either of them less convinced of it.

-

He drew his chair as close as possible to Spencer's and took his hand, entwining his fingers with his. After a long, thoughtful silence, he spoke up.

"I can't promise you that the people around you won't keep coming and going. You know what happened with Elle, and I can't speak for Gideon, but I...I think I can safely say that Hotch wouldn't have left if it wasn't a matter of life or death...honestly after what happened with Haley I'm still surprised he didn't leave before. C'mon, he couldn't risk his son too." he gazed attentively at him. "But I think you know all this already."

Derek paused, leaning forward till their noses were 6 inches apart.

"As for me, I-" he sighed and shook his head: neither of them had the strength to fight about why Morgan had to leave anymore. "you know how things went for me but, kid..." Derek raised Spencer's chin with his index to make sure he was looking at him before going on to say what he wanted to say. "you are my family. And before you say what I know you wanna say: yes, there's my mom and my sisters but- I don't want you to think about it as blood. You are the person I come home to, and if you're not already here, I wait for you. I'm not going anywhere."

When Derek didn't receive an immediate answer, he thought he'd said something wrong, as though he had made him uncomfortable because maybe he didn't feel the same way. And, if that were the case, he couldn't blame him after all: it was STILL hard for Spencer to trust him fully, let alone considering him like family.

He had come to terms with the fact that it wasn't a symptom that Spencer didn't love him. On the contrary: Derek had understood years before, when they were still friends, that the reason why he hesitated to tell him some things, was because he was afraid of losing him - which was absolute nonsense, anyway.

-

He saw Spencer finally shifting in his seat, breaking those few seconds of complete stillness during which he didn't even blink.

He leaned closer to the edge of the chair and cupped Derek's face in his hands, sending shivers down his spine because one palm was freezing from holding the cold bottle of beer, while the other was now warm from keeping it squeezed into Derek's until just a second before.

Spencer pushed his lips softly against his, laying a single, slow kiss, realizing how much Derek had craved for it by how he immediately placed his hand on the back of his neck to draw him deeper. He didn't even know why Spencer had decided to bless him like that, out of the blue, but sure as hell he wasn't complaining.

Derek gasped into the kiss as soon as Spencer's wet and silky tongue slided into his dry mouth, spreading a faint but piercing taste of beer that made his cheeks slightly ache, akin to when you first bite into a too sour orange.

He gradually slowed down when he noticed that Spencer was struggling not to smile against his lips, and he was kissing nothing but his teeth.

"What?" Derek asked, laying one last peck at the corner of his boyfriend's mouth before pulling further to look at him; unable to avoid smiling back even though he didn't even know yet what the man was giggling about. He was so fucking pretty, Derek thought. As simple as that. Pretty.

Spencer rested his hand on Derek's bicep, stroking his smooth skin with his thumb from underneath the hem of his t-shirt. Derek secretly bit his bottom lip: he was more ticklish than one would think, in general, but God did he wish he had an answer for WHY Spencer's soft touch always did him dirty like that.

"I was- uhm..." he cleared his voice while simultaneously furrowing his eyebrows - as per usual. "My intent was to tell you the exact same thing as soon as you came home. It's- it's like you read my mind - even though, you know, I don't believe in these kind of things..." Spencer replied, stuttering in a timid way.

Derek felt his heart burst out of his chest. They'd been together for years, but hearing Spencer say things like that, made him feel like when he was a teenager acting awkward - and pathetically confident - with "chicks" every time. Crazy, he thought: it never happened with the other people he dated before, men or women.

"...yeah?" he asked, incredulous.

Spencer nodded before elaborating.

"You know, it was Rossi, he said something about our team, but actually it got me thinking about this...about us." he paused, swallowing. "he said: it's what happens when we're not on a case that has defined who we are. We stand beside one another, through good, through bad...because we're family" Spencer quoted David word for word - he didn't know any better - staring deep into Derek's eyes.

"It got me thinking that it doesn't matter if you're not on the team anymore, after all. It never mattered that much, to be honest- with you it's always been like, something more than just protecting each other from getting shot or...or kidnapped, I- I don't know how to explain it..." Spencer continued, getting stuck with his words so much that Derek had to try and hide his smile at how amusingly adorable he was.

"Well, for being a genius you gotta admit that it took you a hell of a long time to realize that we're 'something more', am I right?" Derek replied mockingly, air-quoting those two words. He always liked playing dumb, because Spencer's cute-annoyed reaction was priceless; however 9 times out of 10 he actually understood exactly what the other meant. It was just that he had this way of trying to give scientific-like explanations to things that maybe simply happen without us wanting to, or knowing how - namely: falling in love. "But love IS a 'scientific thing', Derek"; Morgan lost count of how many times he had replied to such comments with an eye-roll.

Spencer chuckled and shook his head. "Yeah, I know, but- you know, it just came to my mind that, if I think about it, it wasn't exclusively on the job that I...fell in love with you." he got more serious while saying that last bit.

Derek blushed a little - even though it was impossible for Spencer to see because of his dark complexion. Plus, SSA Derek Morgan NEVER blushed, so the thought didn't even cross Spencer's mind.

"So, let me get this straight," Derek started his teasing, looking at him with arched eyebrows and a mischievous grin "I spent years kicking down doors to impress you with muscles and stuff, and now you tell me giving you rides home or taking you to crappy diners after hard cases was what got you all adorable and flustered all along? That what you're telling me??" he asked mockingly. He loved to put him in difficult situations and see the tips of his ears flush. 

Spencer shook his head and chuckled. "Ok, ok, fine, MAYBE both."

-

Derek leaned back in his chair and stared outside, completely lost in a specific thought that popped into his head, as he mentally replayed those words.

"But the job made us meet." he said righteously, after a long-ish silence.

He slightly tilted his head and shifted his eyes to glimpse at Spencer's beer - that he had clearly forgotten about - as the cold condense coating the glass bottle melted down, dripping on the table in a small puddle.

"I can't think that we wouldn't even ever have met if it wasn't for this job." he added shaking his head in disbelief, lowering his voice like he was speaking to himself more than to Spencer.

The other raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"We wouldn't?" he asked ingenuously. Like he didn't know that two completely opposite people like them would've never met, in normal conditions. Not in a lifetime. Not even in a million years.

Derek laughed good-heartedly at him, face-palming. "We would? Where? At a chess tournament? Or maybe at a baseball game??" he said smirking.

Spencer tried to hide his smile, lightly kicking Derek's calf with his ankle and pretending to be offended.

"Don't make me smack you in front of all these people" Derek jokingly quoted himself with his finger pointed at him, trusting that Spencer would recall that "threat" from years and years before. Surprisingly, Derek remembered A LOT of those comments he was so used to tease him with when they were not together yet, because it was funny to him how he fooled around trying to hint that he was into Spencer, while the genius was COMPLETELY oblivious - he wasn't even pretending not to see it. He just, didn't see it.

Spencer looked at him with his mouth hanging open, impressed. "How-"

"You're not the only one who remembers stuff, you know?" Derek interrupted him immediately before he could ask him how he remembered it. He leaned forward and took Spencer's jaw in one hand to place a quick kiss on his lips, before standing up from the chair.

-

Derek checked his watch. "I'm starving. I'm gonna order some pizza." he stated, heading to the living room to get his phone that he had absent-mindedly left over the dresser.

He froze in spot right on the doorway and turned around, with a frown on his face.

"Wait, have you eaten?"

Spencer shook his head and bit the inside of his cheek, well aware that Derek was kind of a pain in the ass with that. It kinda bothered him, how at times he obsessively made sure he'd eaten - only when he was in an "off" period; though he couldn't say he was wrong: during those kind of periods, Spencer really forgot to eat, or simply couldn't bring himself to. Which was worrisome.

In the attempt to stop thinking about all that matter, he took another sip from his beer, not nearly as ice-cold as he had planned on drinking it, at that point.

Derek sighed heavily as he turned on his heels again, disappearing into the other room. A few seconds later he replied, raising his voice enough so that Spencer could hear him from the kitchen.

"If only your mom knew that I starve her boy. She wouldn't have no problem smacking me in front of a bunch of people, now would she?"

Spencer choked on a laugh, risking to spit out his beer.

[aion-rsa]

The Mandalorian Season 3 Predictions: What to Expect

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This Star Wars: The Mandalorian article contains spoilers.

After eight exciting episodes of adventures all over the galaxy far, far away, The Mandalorian season 2 has come to an end. A daring rescue mission brings Mando, Bo-Katan, and the rest of their crew face to face with the evil Moff Gideon, who has worked all season to capture Grogu for nefarious purposes. What ensues is a battle to the death that includes lots of stormtroopers, killer dark troopers, and even a clash of blades. But even after that fight was over, no one could have seen the finale’s massive cameo coming.

Luke Skywalker swoops in on his trusty X-wing to save the day, just as the heroes are cornered by a platoon of dark troopers on the bridge of Gideon’s cruiser. Like a true Jedi Master, Luke easily fights his way through the Imperial combat droids, slicing his way to the bridge with his green-bladed lightsaber, putting an end to Gideon’s forces once and for all.

Stream your Star Wars favorites right here!

But Luke’s arrival on the show is bittersweet as it also means Mando’s time with Grogu has come to an end. With Luke taking Grogu away to train the little Jedi, you might be wondering where this leaves things for The Mandalorian season 3? What’s next for Mando and his friends, and when might we see Grogu next?

Here are some of the things you should expect from season 3:

The Liberation of Mandalore

It’s pretty clear by the end of season 2 where Mando, Bo-Katan, and Koska Reeves are headed next. Now that they’ve taken control of the Imperial cruiser and an arsenal of weapons, reacquired the Darksaber, and captured Gideon, the heroes seem to have everything they need to finally liberate Mandalore from the Empire.

It wouldn’t be surprising if the Mandalorian homeworld were the very first stop of season 3, as the stage seems set for a pretty large battle worthy of a season premiere. And we know Mando is along for the ride since he promised in the season 2 finale that he’d fight for Bo-Katan’s cause in exchange for her help rescuing Grogu.

In fact, Mando’s participation in the liberation of Mandalore seems mandatory at this point since he’s technically the rightful wielder of the Darksaber…

Darksaber Drama

…which makes him the new Mand’alor, the leader of the entire Mandalorian race. And as a cackling Gideon explains in the season 2 finale, the blade can only be won in battle, which means Bo-Katan will have to fight Mando for the Darksaber if she hopes to rule Mandalore once again. As reluctant as Mando is to keep the weapon, offering it to Bo-Katan several times, she can’t just take it, apparently.

These Darksaber rules of succession are a bit of a retcon since Bo-Katan first acquired the weapon when Sabine Wren awarded it to her on Star Wars Rebels. They didn’t actually fight for it, and she seemed fine with that then. But I guess Mando simply handing Bo-Katan the Darksaber isn’t quite as dramatic for a high-profile Disney+ series.

How this Darksaber drama might be resolved is anyone’s guess, but judging from the way Bo-Katan coolly stares at Mando as he holds the blade in the finale, it’s unlikely that she’ll move on from getting the weapon back. Does this mean Mando and Bo-Katan are going to become enemies in season 3?

One thing that does seem clear is that season 3 won’t see Mando ascend the throne of an entire planet. Not only does Mando have zero interest in keeping the Darksaber but the show’s structure wouldn’t really allow for this kind of story development anyway. The Mandalorian has found a lot of success by stringing together largely standalone episodes that see the protagonist hop from place to place, completing bounties and helping other characters he meets along the way. Making Mando ruler of Mandalore, and therefore stranding him on the planet for most of the season, seems like an unnecessary shift in storytelling.

Where’s Grogu?

Although The Mandalorian season 2 seemed to conclude Grogu’s story on the show, it’s unlikely Disney will bench the show’s most beloved character for very long. Even if he doesn’t appear alongside Mando throughout season 3, we could get at least one episode that continues the little Jedi’s story and shows where Luke and Grogu went after their meeting on the Imperial cruiser.

While the first few episodes of season 3 could focus on the liberation of Mandalore and the direct aftermath of Bo-Katan’s mission, the show could give Mando a reason to go searching for Grogu once again, picking up Luke’s trail and following it around the galaxy. It’s also possible that Luke could bring Grogu back to the bounty hunter if the little Jedi decided that he wanted to be with Mando instead.

More Thrawn Hints

One of the great things about The Mandalorian is the show’s ability to do quite a lot of world-building while telling an intimate story with just a few characters at the same time. While following Mando and Grogu’s adventures, we’ve learned more about the Imperial remnant, the power vaccuum left in the wake of Jabba’s death on Tatootine, the movement to take back Mandalore, Jedi lore on Tython, the state of the New Republic, and more.

“The Jedi” also gave us a big hint as to where the Disney+ Star Wars universe might be headed: the return of Grand Admiral Thrawn. We learn in arguably the show’s best episode so far that Ahsoka Tano is searching for Thrawn, and that after defeating the Magistrate, she’s one step closer to finding him.

The mere mention of Thrawn’s name likely sent fans of ’90s Star Wars novels into a frenzy, especially those who still hold dear Timothy Zahn’s Heir to the Empire, the book that introduced the Imperial villain and kicked off a new era of storytelling in the galaxy far, far away set after Return of the Jedi. Since The Mandalorian takes place during the same era as Heir to the Empire did in the no-longer-canon Legends continuity, many fans have speculated that “The Jedi” was the start of a rebooted version of the classic Thrawn saga.

Disney also recently announced two other live-action shows set in the time period of The Mandalorian, Rangers of the New Republic and Ahsoka, which will lead into a big event on Disney+. With Ahsoka’s clear ties to Thrawn and The Mandalorian establishing the Imperial remnant, the Grand Admiral’s story could continue to develop on the original Star Wars live-action series before he finally makes his arrival in Ahsoka or that big event.

Read more

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Rangers of the New Republic

Speaking of “The Jedi,” the episode was also the jumping off point for Ahsoka’s very own live-action series, serving as a backdoor pilot that re-introduced the character for general audiences as well as teased out her motivations and future adventures. The Mandalorian season 3 could do the same for Rangers of the New Republic, an upcoming live-action series we currently no nothing about besides the fact that it takes place at the same time as Mando’s adventures and that it has a cool title.

Perhaps Mando runs into the Rangers while on another mission in the Outer Rim? One theory suggests it’ll be a new group of New Republic lawmen led by Cara Dune. We’ll just have to wait and see.

Sabine Wren?

We speculated during the final weeks of season 2 that Rebels protagonist Ezra Bridger could be the Jedi who would find Grogu in the finale. There was some evidence to support this theory. Not only had many other characters from the animated series appeared on The Mandalorian by that point but Ahsoka’s very own storyline on the show was tied to finding Thrawn, who went missing with Ezra at the end of Rebels. It made narrative sense for Ezra to appear on the show as a surprise character who would save the day.

But it wasn’t Ezra who showed up on Gideon’s cruiser to take Grogu away. And now that an Ahsoka series has been announced, it’s more likely that the character will make his debut on that show.

That doesn’t mean one of the other Rebels characters yet to appear on The Mandalorian couldn’t make her debut in season 3. We’re of course talking about Mandalorian warrior and former Rebel operative Sabine Wren, who not only has ties to Ahsoka but also to the Darksaber and Bo-Katan. She fought on Mandalore the last time Bo-Katan and her fellow Mandalorians fought to free the planet from the Imperial puppet government. It would make sense for Sabine to join this new mission to liberate Mandalore and protect the Darksaber.

Crossover Episode with Boba Fett

Disney seems very interested in creating a cohesive shared universe of live-action Star Wars series. Ahsoka really kicked off on The Mandalorian and so did The Book of Boba Fett, the series that will premiere this December ahead of season 3. And what better way to keep that shared universe going than to have crossover episodes between shows? Since Boba Fett has already appeared quite prominently on The Mandalorian, there’s no reason he couldn’t return for an episode on the original Star Wars live-action series.

Another Cobb Vanth Adventure

Timothy Olyphant’s Tatooine marshal was an overnight hit, which makes him a good candidate to become a recurring character on the show. With so much of the show taking place on the legendary desert planet already, it wouldn’t be surprising for Mando to make another stop next season to see what Cobb Vanth is up to. Maybe Freetown is in trouble again and Cobb needs Mando’s help to protect it. Or perhaps Mando recruits Cobb for his crew of gunslingers. Either way is fine as long as we get more Olyphant.

The Mandalorian season 3 goes into production this year and will air after The Book of Boba Fett.

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Canon doesn’t work that way [AKA: Why Hannigram Isn’t Canon]

This is an actual comment I received on an Instagram post I made explaining why Hannigram isn’t canon. Let’s take a look at it:

This isn’t how canon works. At all. Canon is like well, a bible of information. Something literally written in stone. In fact, that’s the origin of the word. From biblical times. Though I can agree to some extent, some, the bible is open to interpretation there are still a bunch of things the bible does or doesn’t say and still hard and fast rules the vast majority of Christians will all agree with, no matter how they interpret the bible otherwise. For instance, the ten commandments. No matter if you go to a Catholic church, a Baptist Church, an Evangelical church, everyone has pretty much all agreed that the 10 commandments are solid rules to live by. Even when you do find that the bible has a slightly different interpretation than others, you will not find something so wildly outlandish that it doesn’t make any sense. This is what canon is and why it exists. It’s rules that are written down, set in stone, and definitely words that define a story, ideology, whatever you want to call it.

Once canon is written it cannot be changed. This has been the rule since, well, the beginning of Goddamn time. I know I’ve already brought this up but apparently it needs to be repeated because the Hannibal fandom still doesn’t understand what canon is and what fan fiction is. It really doesn’t help that the creator of the show, Bryan Fuller, doesn’t seem to understand this either. We are talking about a guy who literally got fired from a show for demanding he be able to write fan fiction instead of follow the book adaptation, and not only is this ridiculous but he demanded the actual author allow this when the author was the producer on the show. If the creator of Hannibal is this freaking self entitled, all he does is pass it onto his fans who believe him but will defend him.

Case in point: Hannigram. It is not canon. Not by any stretch of the word. It’s not even open to interpretation given the actual facts of the show and the events that took place. You cannot possibly interpret Hannibal’s behavior towards Will as love or romance. It is factually abuse. End of story. If Bryan Fuller wanted this to be canon because he writes the canon he had all the power in the world to make it canon. He failed to do that and all the “Hannigram is canon” tweets in the universe will not change the content of the show or the scripts that he already wrote. That’s not how that works. Let’s look at the plot, just the plot, not speculation or emotion. Just straight up facts of the show as it pertains to Will Graham and Hannibal’s relationship. I’ll go in order as sort of a timeline to make it abundantly clear how bad Hannibal was to Will.

Hannibal messes up Will’s investigation into the Hobbs murders by calling Garret Jacob Hobbs to warn him that the FBI is coming for him. This triggers Hobbs into murdering his wife and attempting to murder Abigail.

Hannibal uses this situation against Will almost immediately because he notices how guilty Will feels about what happened to Abigail so he just makes it worse. On purpose. Using Abigail as a pawn to manipulate Will.

Hannibal recognizes that Will has Encephalitis. Instead of doing literally anything to help him as a friend or doctor, Hannibal lets the disease get worse and worse to use it to his advantage to manipulate Will even further.

Hannibal starts to plant evidence for his eventual crime of framing Will for murder.

Hannibal starts to sew seeds of doubt in the minds of the FBI and Will’s friends so when it finally gets to the end, no one will believe Will when he says he isn’t the copy cat and hasn’t murdered anyone. Hannibal continues to use Will’s undiagnosed condition against him.

This entire time Hannibal has been feeding Will (and several other people) human flesh without their knowledge.

Hannibal is successful with his set up and though Will eventually gets treatment for Encephalitis he ends up being framed for murder and going to prison.

This is just season one, okay? I didn’t even include episode 11 where Hannibal blatantly gaslights Will by telling him no one is there when Will brings Abel Gideon to his house. What exactly, in all of this, denotes anything more than sadistic emotional torture on Hannibal’s part? Where is the love, respect, and care this awesome, romantic, “murder husbands” relationship is about? Even if Hannibal “completely changed” and totally stopped being evil at this point, is this still not bad enough that Will should ever forgive him? Could? Especially after one of the murders Hannibal made Will think he committed was Abigail’s which basically destroyed him? Really? This is your romance? Okay, let’s move on to season two events…at least to the best of my knowledge.

Hannibal pretty much knows the whole time Will is in jail he didn’t do it but does very little of anything to help him, until he hires Matthew Brown to help.

Hannibal moves in on Alana and uses her for sex and an alibi to cover up other crimes that he intends to commit.

Hannibal also somehow has Abigail alive, not that it makes any sense, but the events of season three show he was brainwashing Abigail the entire time so this pertains to Will mostly because of how Will cared for Abigail. It’s straight up disrespectful towards him and his wishes.

Hannibal nearly kills Jack on a rampage during their fight in the kitchen, stabs Will with a linoleum knife, and then to top it all off he slits Abigail’s throat while Will watches as some sort of punishment or revenge.

Okay, so I’m willing to bet if this happened to someone or their friend in real life, at this point people would recognize the reality of the situation, namely being that this isn’t love. This is high level abuse and manipulation. Now, just to be clear, the specific shippers I am talking about are the shippers that insist this is romantic, Hannibal loved, cared for, and respected Will, and literally nothing is wrong with their relationship. I am not against toxic shipping or people shipping people DESPITE the abusive or dark nature of the ship. What I am against are people turning crap like this into romance to justify the ship. Calling this behavior LOVE and not abuse. That’s what I’m against. Ship these assholes all you want but at least admit it’s not healthy. Moving on to season three:

There’s at least one scene with Will panicked and depressed in Hannibal’s kitchen thinking he can’t live without him and not in a good way. This scene denotes massive signs of codependency which, once again, isn’t love. It’s the result of extreme emotional and physical abuse on Hannibal’s part.

Will chases Hannibal all over the world to find him and does but Hannibal attempts to cut his head open and eat his brain. Seems like he would have done it had he not been stopped by whatever deus ex machina plot device happened, think it was Chiyoh but whatever it was, trust me it was bullshit.

Hannibal and Will are brought back to Mason in the states and once again endure a bunch of torture and none of this is anything that would have happened had Hannibal not dragged Will into all of this in the first place.

They eventually escape after Hannibal kills basically everyone and takes Will home. Will tells Hannibal, point blank, he wants nothing to do with him anymore because Hannibal is bad. Very bad. Will openly recognizes this to be the case and states it. Hannibal gets upset and turns himself in just so “Will can always know where to find him” and if you wanna tell me that’s not the trademark of an emotional abuser you don’t know what emotional abuse is.

Will actually goes on to get married and loves his wife. He’s dragged back into working with Hannibal to catch another killer. Will seems to try to avoid bonding or getting near Hannibal at all costs but it’s too late. The codependent bond has already been formed, Hannibal gets into his head again.

Will, recognizing that this is a very bad situation but he’s never going to get away from it, decides to kill both Hannibal and himself instead of living this life of torment he so clearly hates. The end.

Now, if you read all of that and thought “Wow this is a beautiful romance story with loving caring devoted husbands” I got news for you, you’re insane. If you had a friend who went through all of this with a partner, you’d get them away from that partner and never let them go back. You also wouldn’t call it love or caring or anywhere near the sort, except these Hannigram shippers they do. They overly justify this behavior and call it romance. It’s sickening. It’s like they are willing to ignore 90% of the actual events of the show to insist that this ship is canon. It’s not.

Not once in the show did Hannibal and Will kiss. Not once in the show did they say “I love you”. Not once did the show establish they were actually a couple or even gay. Not once was there any factual on screen indication via dialogue or action that showed these two being sexually interested in each other or romantically linked. If these events weren’t shown or stated in the show then their relationship isn’t canon and a tweet doesn’t make it canon. All the Bryan Fuller tweets and fan service in the world can’t make it canon. What the idiot shippers bring up THE MOST is the scene where Will asks Bedelia if Hannibal loves him as if this is “the scene” where Will totally confesses his love to Hannibal. Except, that’s not what it means at all. Here’s what’s actually going on here:

If I think that a person I know has a crush on me, and I ask a friend of theirs “Does so and so love me” what indication does that give about my feelings towards that person? Did you guess none? Asking the simple question “Does X person love me” gives no indication as to how the person asking feels about the person they think loves them. None. Will never actually followed that by saying he loved Hannibal as well, and the “bride” comment the Fannibals site was clearly said in a dark sarcastic way, they remove the context to make it real. When you have to jump through this many hoops to say a ship is canon, then your Goddamn ship isn’t canon. Furthermore, Bedelia was a well established liar, manipulator, and former victim of Hannibal’s. WELL ESTABLISHED. There is literally nothing to say she actually knew what she was talking about or she wasn’t just fucking with Will. None. Because that’s all she did through the entire show was fucking lie and meddle with people, including her own patients which was shown in season three. Bedelia has no credibility on this matter because she was already established as a liar.

I do honestly wonder sometimes if I watched an entirely different show than these people. Alright, so even though I covered this before I will say it again and explain it a bit better this time. This is why Bryan Fuller tweeting “Hannigram is canon” doesn’t make it canon. Casual viewers of the show don’t follow his twitter or interviews. I know dozens of people who watched the show and only did that. Watched it. They didn’t go see what anyone had to say about it. They didn’t stalk Bryan Fuller on twitter. They didn’t read every fucking interview that ever happened. This means that what casual TV viewers saw was an absolutely NON-ROMANTIC NON-CANON relationship between Will and Hannibal. People saw what I listed. People saw abuse, manipulation, emotional anguish and torture. They weren’t cross checking with Fuller’s twitter and interviews to make sure their agenda was being pushed. This means that the only place this is canon is literally in fan fiction in the mind of Fuller and in the minds of the fan girls who believed him. It does not make this canon to the show and it certainly does not make the behavior romantic at all.

Even if, at the end of all this, after all Hannibal had done to Will, they both confessed love to each other why would anyone forgive that? Why would anyone call that romance? Why? When this was clearly a system of abuse designed to brainwash Will into codependency and anyone with two brain cells can see that. Why would you want this to represent “Gay love” why would you think this is good representation for gay couples? Why in the hell do you think this matters so much that a show that is literally about one man with power abusing another man be seen as GAY CANON. Why not choose a better more healthy relationship for your cause? What the fuck is the point of all of this? At the end of the day, Hannigram isn’t canon to the show. Hannigram is and always will be fan fiction. Since any “example” of love or romance anyone can give me boils down to nothing more than actual abuse, torture, and murder I’m going to say that it just doesn’t exist. If you want to WRONGLY BELIEVE that it’s canon you go ahead, but you’re still wrong. Opinions do not change facts no matter how badly they hurt your feelings.