#He knew it had to be BIG so Ian's unit was called too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sequinsmile-x · 2 years ago

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hi! i have a prompt.. i don’t know if you’ve done this before but i kind of just thought of it and would love to see your version of this! idk if you just take random requests but here it is!

emily loses her wedding rings and she’s frantically searching and aaron finds her a mess on the bathroom floor and a sob breaks out when he asks her what’s wrong and he’s all patient and calm and it makes her more upset. but he gets her to stop crying and she calms down and he helps her tear the entire house apart. it’s only when the finally put jack to bed at night that they find them under his pillow! (idk how it got there—i think you could work that out)

hiiii friend!!

I love this prompt, and it immediately made my brain itch. It turned out a little differently than what you laid out, but I hope you enjoy it anyway <3

-x-

Threads of Gold

She puts the ring back onto its chain, and slips it over her head before tucking it back into her shirt. She presses the cool metal against her skin and closes her eyes, blowing out a shaky breath from lungs that felt stuffed with grief.

She wasn’t Emily Prentiss here.

Emily Prentiss was dead.

-x-

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: big feels, occasional cursing.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

It was the silence that she hated the most.

The apartment she refused to call home was non-descript, the same as a thousand others in Paris. It had all the noise you would expect living in a big city. Neighbours who seemed to care very little for their possessions or the people around them. Mass-produced appliances that made noises that seemed to run like clockwork, the buzz of the refrigerator and the clunk of the air conditioning unit. The laughter of tourists as they walked the streets, happy and full of joy as they discovered the city of love.

Everything surrounding her apartment was full of noise, of life. The very thing that had been torn from under her feet, everything slipping away so quickly.

She was used to hearing Aaron walk around their house. His familiar footsteps part of the soundtrack of her life, a promise that he was never too far away. Jack seemed to be surrounded by noise, whether it was his laughter or one of his toys. He was only ever quiet in sleep, although even that would sometimes be interrupted by him walking suddenly in tears, memories of what happened to his mother warped even further by his subconscious, forcing him to seek out solace in her and Aaron’s bed. Safely tucked between the two of them.

They had just managed to start their lives again, joy the overriding emotion in their home for the first time in a long time, when she got the call that Doyle had escaped. Everything turned back on its head, another thing they had to overcome.

Only this time, they’d lost.

She knew if she had to do it again she’d change nothing. She wouldn’t involve Aaron, wouldn’t have brought him into the situation she’d found herself in. The one secret she had never shared.

She had vague memories of him visiting her in the hospital, dressed in all black from her funeral, his hand wrapped around hers as they both apologised for things neither of them could, or would, change. She’d saved his life by lying to him, by repeatedly saying everything was fine even though it clearly wasn’t.

He’d saved her life by taking it away.

Emily sighs as she pulls the door closed behind herself, and she checks the lock twice, a habit she had picked up from Aaron, before she moves further into the apartment. She places her bag of groceries on the kitchen counter, abandoning it for now, and walks the short distance to the couch. She sits down and tries to get her breath back. She was still recovering from what Ian had done to her, and even the smallest of tasks made her exhausted, her body pushed to its limit by something as simple as walking to the small store at the end of her street to buy some essentials.

Her hands automatically reach for the long chain around her neck and she pulls it loose from her shirt, pulling it off completely before she goes for the catch, opening it so she can take the ring off of it.

She holds the engagement ring in between her thumb and index finger, watching as she turns it, the low lighting in her apartment catching the diamond and making it sparkle. A flash of light across the dark night sky her life had become.

She could wear it here, she knew that. There would be no harm, or risk, to her identity by wearing an engagement ring that she carried everywhere with her anyway. But it felt wrong, something making her pause every time she considered slipping it onto her finger, the joy she’d felt when Aaron asked her to marry him burning in her chest, yet another thing in her life that was once good turned to ash.

She sighs, puts the ring back onto its chain, and slips it over her head before tucking it back into her shirt. She presses the cool metal against her skin and closes her eyes, blowing out a shaky breath from lungs that felt stuffed with grief.

She wasn’t Emily Prentiss here.

Emily Prentiss was dead.

___

They get married almost as soon as she gets home from Paris. Their wedding day a quick and desperate thing, an attempt to hold on to each other. To prove that everything would be ok. Their love for each other, and for Jack, never in doubt even in the hardest of moments.

It takes a while. She’s a little too keen for her independence and Aaron a little too protective after losing her, but after everything, she thinks they are happier now than they were before. The joy in their day-to-day lives deeper, something that felt all the more precious. They’d made it. They’d survived.

And now they were living.

She smiles at the sound of Jack laughing from the living room, his video game on in the background as he plays. She finishes rinsing out the wine glasses from dinner and places them on the draining board before she drains the sink, wiping her hands on a towel. The sound flowing from the living room comes to a stop and it’s quickly followed by Jack’s footfall, the noise dulled slightly by his socks. She turns just in time to see him in the doorway, a curious look on his face.

“Where’s Dad?”

She leans against the counter as she smalls at him, “He’s in his office, he had some work to finish whilst I did the dishes.”

“You do the dishes because Dad cooks!” Jack says, repeating back the words they’d told him more than once.

She hums and nods, “Exactly, although one day I might cook just so he has to do them instead,” she laughs as a horrified expression crosses the young boy's face, and she walks over to him, pulling him into a hug he gladly accepts, “Ok, I won’t cook.”

He sighs in relief and leans against her, and she holds him tighter, taking a moment to appreciate that she had this again. She hears her phone chime from the dining room and pulls back to smile down at Jack, ruffling his hair before she steps away from him.

“You go get ready for bed, ok?” She says before she kisses his forehead, “It’s your dad’s turn to tuck you in tonight.”

“Love you, Emily!” Jack says and it makes her heart swell, her smile so wide her cheeks ache.

“I love you too,” she replies. She hears her phone chime again and she heads to the dining room to pick it up. There are two text messages from Penelope on the screen.

Girl's night soon?

Sorry if I interrupted you and the boss doing some baby-making.

Emily shakes her head, “I’ve really got to stop telling her everything.”

She replies as she types out a response, ignoring the second text completely as she confirms her availability for a girl's night. Her friend's mention of her and Aaron’s plans to expand their family makes a mixture of anxiety and joy bubble in her stomach. Hope followed her around like a shadow these days, on the edge of everything she did, lingering in every corner as her future was laid out in two distinct paths.

One where they had more children, expanded their family and had the life both she and Aaron had always wanted but had been denied. The other where they didn’t. Where this didn’t happen for them for one reason or another.

She knew which one she wanted, that she’d be disappointed and heartbroken if the went the way she feared, but ultimately she knew she’d be happy with what she had in the end.

No matter what her future looked like, Aaron and Jack were there with her, and that had her feel luckier than she ever had before. ___

She’s just finishing up her nighttime routine, running her fingers over her skin as she rubs in a moisturiser that claims to slow down ageing, when she notices. Her eyes honing in on her left hand, her ring finger bare. Her chest seizes with fear, her breath catching against her ribs as she looks at her hand, her eyes fixed on the pale band of skin where her rings usually were.

“Fuck,” she whispers to herself, as she takes a step back, her eyes furiously scanning the bathroom counter as she desperately seeks out her rings. She pulls the products she’d used out from the spots she’d slipped them back into, showing no care for the usual order she tried to keep their home in.

She rushes into the bedroom with the clothing hamper in her hands, tipping the dirty laundry onto Aaron’s side of the bed. She tries to ignore the shake of her hands as she riffles through the clothes, taking the time to check the pockets of the pants she’d taken off before she started to get ready for bed.

“Fuck,” she exclaims again, more desperate this time as she runs her hands through her hair. She bites at her thumbnail as she tries to think, trying to remember when she was last wearing them.

They had become a part of her. As soon as it was safe when she came home, when Ian was dead and her photo removed from the memorial wall, Aaron had asked about her ring. She’d shown him the necklace, the cheap chain she’d bought on her first day in Paris, and he’d smiled. Taking it off her before he tipped the ring into his palm, and slipped it back onto her finger, the same reverence and love in his eyes as he’d had the first time. It was barely two weeks later when her wedding ring had been added alongside it and she’d put his on him. The gold rings a solid symbol of their love for each other when everything else still felt so unsteady.

They had become a part of her.

She rushes downstairs, sure she’d had them on when she got home, and walks into the kitchen. They aren’t in the usual place she leaves them near the sink if she ever handwashes anything, and her panic deepens, the room becoming blurry as her eyes fill with tears she doesn’t expect or understand. She pulls the dishwasher door open, steam escaping around her as she interrupts the cycle. She winces as she starts to pull the dishes out, the heat of them pressing against her skin as she stacks them on the counter, any hope that she had somehow accidentally slipped them in along the plates they’d eaten their dinner from disappears as she empties it completely. The familiar shine of her rings nowhere to be found.

She stands up straight and covers her mouth as a sob she can’t stop escapes. Grief and guilt and something she knows to be panic making her stomach churn. She’d never been a person who was too attached to material possessions. She’d moved too much when she was young for that. She remembered teasing Aaron when they moved into the house, softly calling him a hoarder because of his reluctance to let go of the simplest of furnishings. There were few things that she owned that could make her feel like this.

A photo of her and her dad from her high school graduation. A card Jack had drawn her for mother’s day.

Her wedding rings.

Her engagement ring was the only part of Aaron she’d had with her in Paris, and that was only because she’d been wearing it at the time. Ian had mocked her for it, compared it to the ring he’d once given her.

The ring had become so much more than what it initially met. It was a reminder of what she had at home, what she spent months dreaming out and hoping she’d have again.

And she couldn’t find it.

She leans back against the counter and covers her face with her hands, crying in a way she hadn’t in a long time.

“Sweetheart, is there a reason you dumped all of our dirty laundry…” Aaron trails off as he walks into the kitchen, his joyful tone turning serious as he strides over to her, his hand on her shoulder, “Emily, baby, what's wrong?”

He pulls her into a hug and she leans into him, her face buried against his neck as she wraps her arms around him, her hands grasping at his shirt. She tries to breathe him in, to remind herself that she has all of him now, that his love for her is more than a white gold band and a diamond that held them together across an ocean.

Aaron holds her close, his hand running up and down her back, and he looks around the kitchen. His eyes flick over the dishes that were still wet from the dishwasher haphazardly piled on the counter, water dripping down onto the marble. He doesn’t know what’s wrong, why his wife has torn their bathroom, bedroom and apparently their kitchen apart or why whatever it has her close to hysterical.

He places his hand on the back of her head and encourages her to tilt it back just far enough that she can look at him, her eyes red and shining with tears that were still tracking down her face.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He asks, moving his hand to cup her cheek.

“No…I,” she chokes out, shaking her head at herself, fury at herself for not being able to control her emotions clear, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He asks, remaining endlessly patient despite his concern for her and the way it burned at his insides.

“I lost my rings,” she says, the words catching in her throat as she acknowledges it out loud for the first time, “I’m sorry I must have taken them off to wash the wine glasses and-”

“Em, sweetheart,” he cuts her off, digging his hand through his pants pocket before he opens his palm to her, her wedding rings shining in his hand, “Jack had them.”

It feels like every part of her has frozen in place, fear replaced by confusion and relief, “What?”

He smiles softly, “He picked them up from the counter and took them to his room,” he says, running his hand down her arm so he can hold her left hand, carefully slipping them back onto her finger, “Apparently he was planning on taking them to school for show and tell tomorrow,” he chuckles, shaking his head at his son, “We had a chat about taking things that don’t belong to us without permission.”

She nods, staring at her hand, her heartbeat returning somewhat to normal as she looks at her rings. She breathes shakily before looking up at her husband, smiling tightly at him.

“Thank you.”

“It’s ok,” he replies, wrapping his arm around her again to pull her closer. He waits a few seconds to see if she was planning on saying anything else, if she was going to give him an insight into why she’d been so upset, but she doesn’t. “Em-”

“My engagement ring was the only part of you I had in Paris,” she explains, cutting over him as she hugs him, her cheek pressing into his shoulder, “I wore it on that necklace every day and…for a long time I thought it was all I’d ever have of you. I lost it and I panicked.”

Aaron sighs sadly as he kisses the side of her head before he rests his chin on top of it, holding her tightly in the way he knew she needed whenever she was reminded of her time in Paris.

“I’m right here,” he promises her, “I’ve got you.”

She smiles and nods, pulling back so she can look up at him. She stamps a quick kiss against his lips, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replies, kissing her again. “Why don’t you head up, I’ll put everything back in the dishwasher and then come up to join you.”

She frowns, “Honey-”

“Go,” he says, cutting off her rebuttal to him re-doing her usual chore. She smiles and nods, kissing him once more before she disconnects from him to go back upstairs.

By the time he joins her, she’s put the laundry back into the hamper and is curled up on her side of the bed. He quickly changes and does his own nightly routine before he lays behind her in the bed. He wraps his arms around her and presses his chest into her back before he links their fingers together, the cold metal of her rings making them both smile.

“Tomorrow, I’m buying you rubber gloves.”

She frowns, turning her head to look at him, not entirely sure what he means, “What?”

“I’m buying you rubber gloves,” he repeats, kissing her cheek, “So you don’t have to take your rings off when you’re doing the dishes.”

She beams at him, her love for him threatening to overwhelm her as she turns in his embrace, kissing him fiercely as she cups the back of his head, holding him in place.

“I love you so fucking much,” she says, still kissing him as she talks until she’s practically laying on top of him.

“Because I’m buying you gloves?” He asks, raising his eyebrow as he follows her lead, his hands trailing under her t-shirt.

She pulls back to smile at him, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, “Because you love me enough to understand why it’s important.”

She kisses him again, and they lose themselves in each other, both of them trying to keep quiet, their love for each other just for them in their home.

-x-

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burnwater13 · 1 year ago

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Concept Art by Nick Gindraux

Grogu thought about all the things he’d learned about measurements around the galaxy as he traveled with Din Djarin and realized that ‘a camtono’ wasn’t a very good reference for a quantity of beskar or anything else for that matter.

Sure it probably had a set volume. But it was a kind of weird cylinder shape. That meant that if you wanted the whole volume to be used for the beskar, the beskar needed to curved to fit the round shape. Grogu hadn’t seen beskar plates do that. Ever. And since the standard unit for volume was a liter, why not just say it held 10 liters?

Of course beskar wasn’t a liquid and cargo was usually described in cubic meters. So maybe say you have 0.01 cubic meters of beskar. But… that really didn’t work either right? Because who cared about the volume of beskar, other than an armorer? Even they preferred mass in kilograms.

Okay. If you had the volume of the camtono and the density of beskar you would be able to determine the mass of beskar in the camtono (approximately because of course the beskar wasn’t taking up the entire volume of the camtono). Uff. That was making Grogu’s head hurt.

He’d studied a lot of different things at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant and maths were not his favorite. He could count to six, twelve when he was wearing his other coverall and he knew that sharing was best done using fractions, although his friend Ian liked using whole numbers better.

Grogu also knew that he could just ask a mech or droid, or any of the Jedi Masters for help, except for Master Kenobi (not an area of personal growth that he wanted to pursue). But every once in a while Grogu noticed things like using camtonos as a form of measurement. It was just so strange.

Imagine if he had used frogs as the measurement for hunger. If he’d already eaten a big meal and was asked if he was hungry he might say that he could a frog. One frog. One singular frog. Any more than one and he’d feel sick. But, if he hadn’t just had a big meal and his dad asked how hungry he was Grogu might reply three frogs. That was a really good snack amount of frogs. Not too many for one sitting and also not a full meal. Yum.

But what if Din couldn’t source frogs for a meal? What if all he could find for Grogu to eat was dung worms? Those were normally server in a bowl. How did you reconcile a bowl of dung worms for units of frogs? Depending on the size of the frogs and the size of the bowls, the measurement outcome could go all over the place. What was a standard frog? A standard bowl? A standard dung worm? Womp-rats!

Ahhh. There was another thing that wasn’t a great measure. Womp-rats. Those critters were huge! Up to two meters! Din Djarin wasn’t even two meters. How could anyone call Grogu a womp-rat? He might be able to ride a womp-rat like the Mandalorian and Kuiil had ridden the blurggs, but outside of that, it didn’t make much sense. It was like calling Din a Krayt dragon as a term of endearment.

Of course the whole camtono thing was about value. How much the bounty was worth. No matter what kind of credits it was filled with, the Mandalorian would probably considered it enough. Although the Mandalorian wasn’t a fan of Batuuan Spira. He complained that they were hard to exchange for other credits and you had to go to Batuu and the exchange rate there was outrageous.

Grogu thought about the value proposition and thought that the Mandalorian had likely been cheated. Yes, he’d been given a lot of beskar. He’d ended up being able to make a lot of new armor from it and to support the foundlings and all those good things. That was nice. But he’d given up a best friend, healer, source of joy and contentment and someone who would make sure they never had to deal with the problem of leftovers (excepting veggies). That didn’t seem right. Grogu thought he was worth two maybe three camtonos at least.

Din Djarin had laughed at that.

“Buddy, now I know that you’re priceless.”

#calendar prompt a day #the mandalorian #grogu #din djarin

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zutaralesbian · 3 years ago

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Do you think they (Ian and Mickey) see each other as best friends?

Short answer: Yes

Long answer: Under the cut!

The show itself poked at this idea in that infamous episode in S11. Now, one reason Ian and Mickey don’t have any friends outside each other is because of the writers being incompetent and I think it would have been nice to see them make some lgbt friends at some point in the course of the show. (That’s one of the reasons I lobbied so hard for Sandy to be able to interact with them more. RIP). But I also think it kind of makes sense with who they are as characters. Deep down, I don’t think either of them are too interested in letting people in as deeply as they have let each other.

Ian

Ian often gets characterized as the “social butterfly” of Gallavich and while he obviously has better social skills than Mickey, I don’t think this characterization is necessarily fully true, for reason: For the bulk of his interactions with new people, Ian is forcing himself into a role he is not fully comfortable with and hides his true self.

Ian is a chameleon that is able to make himself blend in with surroundings he would not normally fit into. We see this multiple times throughout the show. Navigating the rich high life with Ned in S3. (Which ended up getting directly contrasted with his scenes with Mickey where he’s running around laughing with him and having genuine fun). Being a dancer at the fairy tale in S4. (Part of that was because of his mania but I do think there was also a clear level of pretending on his part). And in his relationships with both Caleb and Trevor where he essentially allows them to make him a project. My point is, while we do see Ian interacting with a large variety of people, there’s actually very few people that he allows to see his true self. And Mickey is 100% one of those people. Ian does not have to pretend to be anything with Mickey because Mickey knows him inside and out and loves him unconditionally for who he is. And for a while, that terrified Ian. But now that he has embraced it it’s just a testament to how strong their bond is and how Mickey truly is one of his best friends.

In my opinion, Ian probably considers Mickey and Lip to be his best friends simultaneously. (I know, this is Mandy erasure but hear me out: While I love Ian and Mandy’s relationship and I think she was his best friend for a time, I do think they unfortunately drifted away a bit towards the end. A part of that was because of the writers prioritizing her relationship with Lip over her relationship with Ian (boo) but yeah…)

Mickey

Like Ian, Mickey also has issues with letting people fully in. But unlike Ian, who tries to fit in with other people, Mickey just does not give a fuck whether or not people like him lmao.

A part of this is absolutely because of his upbringing. Mickey did not grow up with a loving family unit in the Milkovich household. This caused him to grow up with a very ‘every man for himself’ kind of mindset. (I do think there’s a layer of ‘Milkovich loyalty’ that was pushed into him, hence his defensiveness when Ian calls Terry a ‘psychotic prick’ in S3, despite everything Terry did to Mickey in that very season. But it’s a far cry from the genuine loyalty that comes from a loving family). But the other part is that I think it’s just how Mickey is as a person. Most people aggravate him and he’s genuinely okay with only having a few select people in his circle.

Ian chipped past Mickey’s walls and snuck up on him, but it was a long process for Mickey to let even him in. He just doesn’t let people get close to him easily. And I think that’s a big reason why Mickey always knew Ian was “the one”, despite the hardships they’ve had. He knew he wasn’t likely to allow anyone to know him as well or as intimately as Ian did, at least not in a short time. It’s not easy for Mickey to grow to love someone but once he does love, he loves HARD.

And that is why, Ian is without a doubt Mickey’s best friend. And sadly, his only friend. I like to headcanon that he eventually grows to genuinely care for other people down the road but it will be a long process because that’s just the kind of person he is.

So in conclusion: These two have a bunch of obstacles that genuinely keeps them from easily bonding with other people. But with each other, they are truly themselves and free and they know how the other clicks. They absolutely consider each other best friends.

@gallavichprompts

#here have some rapidly put together meta lol #gallavich #shameless #gallavichmetamarch #*

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secret-rendezvous1d · 4 years ago

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“don’t leave me”

hello, hi!

i definitely don’t think this is a one-off thing anymore and this blog may be on the way to merging into a harry styles + matthew gray gubler blog so i’d like to think that that is a new exciting venture people will . i’m really enjoying writing about a new scene, a new character and a new life to plan out and write about. the stories don’t essentially follow each other so they can be read anyhow and in any way but i’d like to think they all follow the same storyline/timeline so they link in that way.

like, reblog and give me some feedback. it’s greatly appreciated and it helps me work out what you want to see and what you are after.

thank you. enjoy.

“don’t leave me” spencer reid x female reader (reader insert imagine) word count; 2.1k.

* if you haven’t watched criminal minds then this does contain some spoilers to the show that you may want to dodge if you are thinking of starting the series up. *

summary; spencer struggles to come to terms with emily’s return and the betrayal of his friends.

“Spencer, look, we’ve got to talk about this.”

YN came to a stop with what she was doing when she saw her boyfriend and JJ starting a conversation in the station’s negotiation room, setting down the files she was sifting through so she could pay a little more attention to the conversation happening just a few feet away from the desk she was seated at, eyes still focused on the page with the bold name of a potential unsub printed at the top, accompanied by a picture of what they looked like. She tried to, at least, make herself seem busy without showing herself being nosey over a conversation that didn’t necessarily include her.

“What do you mean, talk about it?” Spencer questioned, looking at her in disbelief, “talk about what?”

YN hated how passive-aggressive he’d been, over the last two days, towards the two women who used to be considered a few of the only women close to him. He was never like that and, given what had happened, she understood his pain and his upset… she just hated how he wanted to push it, and them, away so he could carry on like an unexpected change hadn’t just sprung into his life.

“I get it, okay? You’re disappointed with the way we handled Emily,” JJ stated, hands on her hips as she stood around the opposite side of the table, watching intently at Spencer as he stood looking at the paper in his hands, eyes darting from the print to his scrawny handwriting on the board beside him, “I get that.”

The tension amongst the team was unbearable, to say the least.

As soon as Emily had entered the roundtable room a week prior to their case in Oklahoma, much to the surprise of everyone occupying the room who had stood waiting for the next plan of action to take down Ian Doyle and find his son, there was a sudden wave of uncertainty that seemed swallow the team whole and didn’t have plans on spitting them back out again anytime soon. No one could pick apart the emotions on one person’s face and state clearly how they were feeling. Confusion, shock, anger, happiness, joy, surprise… there were flecks of each emotion but never one clear facial expression that gave away how someone was truly feeling.

Now they were deep in Oklahoma, on a case and trying to find an unsub who had come to light in the recent murders of two young women prior to their touchdown, with Emily back in her regular place and trying her best to get back to normal as a BAU agent for the FBI. No longer under protection of the higher authority, no longer hiding behind an alias that took her identity away and stripped her of who she once was and she was finally able to go back to the Emily Prentiss whom she had been loved by many before life did a one-eighty flip. Almost as if nothing had changed, like the seven months she spent in witness protection hadn’t ever happened, like her death and her funeral and her burial were a fever dream that seemed to never leave the rest of them alone.

For most of the unit, having her back was something so wonderful and so great, to see her jumping back into a case with a mindset ready for justice and helping out with the mind she was graced with having, to have the same pair of eyes that were used to seeing case after case of young victims and unstable unsubs be considered a fresh pair of eyes now she was back. To work a case with someone you were comfortable with, that was what the most of them loved; the witty banter shared, the anger that bounced off from each sentence, the kind and caring charisma to get the best result of a case.

But for some, it was difficult to adjust to something they had only just overcome.The grief they felt towards the situation of losing a beloved member of the unit, someone so loving and kind, a huge part of their team, it was unbearable and tore them down soon after they presumed they laid her to rest. Going back, visiting her burial site, resting flowers and almost keeping her updated with how everyone had been. They refused to believe she was gone yet denied her when she was found out to be healthy and alive and ready to start back where she left off.

“Well, I have a lot going on, alright?”

A lie, to say the least, but she wasn’t to know that.

“You know what I think it is?”

That caught his attention. And YN’s.

The one question that many profilers, specifically Spencer, hated to be personally asked was that question. They didn’t need to know what others thought when they could have the same thought pattern as each other, they didn’t need someone else telling them what they think they should be thinking and Spencer didn’t need a pity chat from someone who wronged him to find out what he was thinking.

Deep down, YN knew what the problem was and she was handling the situation as best as she could when she was alone with him in their hotel room, but she didn’t think it was as clear cut as people assumed. So how had JJ worked it out? If she was correct in what she thought was wrong with him, that is. He was hurt and he was upset and he was confused; he showed his grief towards missing a friend and he showed how much they meant to him by showing so much emotion yet he just couldn’t come to terms with how none of that was needed anymore. How he didn’t need to build his walls any higher because there wasn’t going to be any more heartache to deal with..

“What?”

“You’re mad that Hotch and I controlled our micro-expressions at the hospital and you weren’t able to detect our deception,” JJ suggested, a little more vigour in her voice as she spoke to him, frustration dripping from her words because she was desperate to get through to him. Absolutely desperate to find some way to resolve an issue that others had forgiven almost instantly, “you’re mad because you couldn’t catch us out on our lies.”

“You think this is about my profiling skills?” He scoffed and shook his head, looking back to the paper in his hands, ”Jennifer, listen, the only reason you were able to manage my perceptions was because I trusted you. I came to your house for ten weeks in a row, crying over losing a friend, and not once did you have the decency to tell me the truth,” he continued, disappointment laced through his words. And he so badly wanted to look up and catch the eyes of his girlfriend, the only one he felt truly supported him and his decision to act out, but he knew he needed to fight a battle of his own. Especially one that he caused but especially one that he was actively dragging out.

“I couldn’t.”

“You couldn’t? Or you wouldn’t?”

It was the first time they made eye contact through the debacle. And, in that moment, JJ could see the pain behind his eyes. The deceit he felt. The grief that was nonsense because they were grieving over no one. The time wasted crying. The time wasted over nothing but false information and lies. She could see he looked vulnerable and naive and she felt guilty for even bringing her back to help on the mission they so direly needed her help with.

“No, I couldn’t.”

“What if I started taking Dilaudid again? Would you have let me?” YN’s eyes shot up at the question he bit towards his colleague; he never considered that, she was sure of it. YN would have known if he did. That time of his life was something she wished he would let go of, something she wished he forgot about so he could carry on with his life, something she wished he never considered again, “I thought about it.”

YN couldn’t only feel her heart ache but she could feel the eyes of Hotch and Morgan resting upon her figure as she tried to occupy herself.

“You didn’t-”

“I did,” he hissed, placing the paper down on the desk below him and striding towards the doors, passed JJ as she pressed an apology upon him, hoping to get him to stay behind so she could hash it out until he fully understood their reasoning why they chose the plan that they did, “I did.”

“Spencer, I’m sorry-”

“It’s too late, alright?” He mumbled.

His legs took him out of the room and down from the floor they were situated on, ignoring the calls from Hotch as he stood with his arms folded in the corner of the room, everyone watching him as he left to go outside so he could catch a breath of fresh air and clear his mind of all the things rattling around inside his head. An alarming look from Morgan and a squeeze to her shoulder had YN up from her seat, case files left behind as she followed her boyfriend out of the station’s vicinity, catching him on a bench just a short walk away from the entrance of the building.

“If you’re coming here to tell me I need to focus on work rather than what’s happening then don’t, Morgan. I’m not-”

“What on earth gives you the impression I’m the big dude with muscles and a charming voice?” YN teased, his upper body twisting so he could catch the sweet stature of his smiling girlfriend, the slightest hint of a smile twitching his lips before he turned back to face forward. Hands clasped together and resting on his legs, thumbs tapping and rubbing at his skin in circles, feeling the presence of his girlfriend behind him, “mind telling me what that was all about?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” He slipped to the other side of the bench so there was enough room for YN to sit down beside him, her hand reaching over to lace her fingers through his, squeezing his hand tightly as their conjoined palms rested upon his thigh, “I’m hurt and I’m angry, YN. I’m so angry. You saw how much I cried, how much I struggled, how much everyone had to adjust to life without Emily when she ‘died’. Yet they knew, they knew she was alive and they knew she was healthy and okay. They didn’t tell us and that’s- it’s sick,” he grappled, his voice full of passion; there was no way he was angry with them anymore and there was no way he would continue the trait up until someone said something to bring him back down to earth. He was glad she was home - he told her so many times in the last few days about just how great it was to have her home - but he never failed to drift back to the subject of how they dealt with the situation.

“They did it for her protection, Spence. They saved her and, essentially, saved us for truly having to say goodbye to her,” YN admitted, bringing their hands to her mouth so she could press a tacky kiss to the back of his hand, leaving a pink lipstick stain behind in her wake, “she’s safe now because of what they did. Doyle, he’s dead. Anyone who was after, they’re dead. She’s safer now than she was ever.”

“But they watched us grieve at a funeral. We buried something in that ground and were made to believe it was her,” Spencer sighed shakily, “they cried for her, too. They grieved. They said nothing was the same anymore. When they knew the truth all along. I cried with JJ, she helped me when you were working, she was denying it all but, in her head, she knew everything was a lie.”

“Emily left for a reason. To save everyone. She’s back now and you’ve got to remember how everything was before she left us,” YN’s hand gave his a gentle squeeze before she let go, bringing her hands to her lap and waiting for him to look up from the ground so she could see his eyes and so she could see his bright smile, “Spence, she’s not going anywhere.”

He nodded slowly and hesitantly lifted his head, his eyes a little raw around the rims and his lip a little chewed at, but the light in his face was still there. His body scooting closer to YN, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side for a little bit of romance before they were caught and checked on by another agent.

“You won’t leave me like that, will you?” He wondered, “don’t, okay? Don’t leave me.”

“If I’m going anywhere, you’re coming with me, mister,” YN grinned, leaning up to press a kiss to his pink lips, “we do it together or we don’t do it at all.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid x yn imagines #spencer reid x reader insert imagines #spencer reid x reader insert fic #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler imagines #matthew gray gubler x yn imagines #matthew gray gubler x reader insert imagines #matthew gray gubler x reader insert fic #criminal minds imagines

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gillian-greenwood · 4 years ago

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My initial thoughts and theories on the upcoming series of Line Of Duty.

Okay so this introduction isn't the one I initially wrote, what started as a quick summary of my thoughts after seeing the trailer and easter eggs turned into hours of my brain going into the depths of Line of Duty madness. We are under a week to go until series 6 finally hits our screens and there has been so much more teased already with interviews with the cast and so on. So, here cometh an essay of me turning into Charlie from It's always Sunny in Philadelphia.

Before I go into each point, I've tried to split my thoughts into different sections as there are more significant things that I think will feature in Series 6. These are all what I personally think will happen or likely scenarios if I'm undecided - I've listened, watched and read plenty of other theories too and I've really been enjoying it. With a show such as this, we do go totally crazy! I did see something mere moments ago where Martin stated that he's seen some 'spot on' theories - 1) it makes me excited to hear the cast are reading what we think and 2) I've more than likely read what's going to happen but I don't know it at this point - that's kinda insane!

So, I'm now going to get into the main points and then will address smaller things later on. For those of you who read all my rambles and thoughts, I really appreciate it: hopefully then I'm not completely talking to myself. I could be right, I could be wrong in these. But that's part and parcel of theorising. I've seen some great theories and seen some crazy theories but I really appreciate anyone who has taken time to share them. I mean we've got to have the outrageous and completely nutty theories, we need a good giggle!

So here we go...

Who is the fourth “dot”?

The one question that has been firmly on all our minds over these past couple of years has been whom is the fourth person pulling all the strings for organised crime? We know H isn’t a singular person but a code name for multiple people. According to Dot’s dying declaration, there are four dots, or four caddies - however you want to call it. I'm definitely sick of the whole who's H question (hence referring to it as the fourth dot) as it has been established that H isn't just a person - but so many are still completely attached to the idea of H and I think it's because that whole plotline wasn't completely rounded off or people weren't satisfied with the revelation so have become quite obsessed with it. I’ve felt a bit strange about the whole revelation since series 5 aired in 2019 though - I felt it was a huge stretch Steve recognising the Morse code from one still frame and coming to the conclusion he shares with Ted - that Dot was trying to communicate in Morse Code - I’m going to elaborate more on the declaration further on.

But back to the main question before we trail off too far! We have several possibilities. Off the bat, I can’t see it being any of the main three at all. Already, Steve has been accused of being “the caddy” and Ted has been accused of being “H” (Which in fairness has transpired to be the same thing) - Kate on the other hand has not yet come under suspicion of being bent and involved with organised crime. The trailer has cleverly hinted that it may well be Kate’s turn at being on the other side of the table. But, it’s being too obvious - creating discussion - very similar to what happened with Ted. I know a lot of people have suspicion over Kate and have done for a long while and I can see why - I just can’t see it concluding that she's the definition of corrupt - she's not completely squeaky clean but I don't think she's been a mastermind in all of this. It would be a very shocking twist but it wouldn’t make loads of sense to me with other things that's happened in the show. I do feel though Kate deserves a whole section to herself so I'll definitely go over all that further on. Main three aside - we have three other favourable suspects in my eyes.

Firstly, PCC Rohan Sindhwani was introduced in series 5 - dedicated to exposing corruption amongst the police force, running on a platform of transparency and working alongside DCC Andrea Wise. We don’t see much of him however his one direct link to organised crime is Gill Biggeloe - his senior legal counsel who was exposed as being one of the corrupt members of the police force. When things continued to go “pear shaped” with Operation Pear Tree - his mantra of complete transparency meant that he’d have to highlight the lack of progress - however rightfully so he’s been advised to suppress the truth and Gill very conveniently stresses that he needs to retain public confidence - and that having a “non-exclusive relationship with the truth” is part of the role of the PCC. As series 5 wraps up, he looks uneasy about the conclusions of Operation Pear Tree that were shared with the public - that there was no links to corruption and organised crime - which were of course completely against his own personal principles. During series 5 he hasn’t really displayed any tendencies of being bent, quite frankly the complete opposite. Although that's not to say he isn't dodgy. The trailer for series 6 has cleverly been cut together and tried to make him appear suspicious. However, I think it’s extremely unlikely that it’ll be him - he’s far too new of a character and has supposed strong ambitions to cut out all the rotten apples within the ranks. Gill could have easily sent him astray but I'm just not buying him being involved with organised crime at all. So I’m happily ruling him out.

Next we have the newly promoted DSU Ian Buckells. Having first appeared all the way back in the beginning of series 1 as the SIO on the Jackie Laverty case, appointed by Derek Hilton - he was a bit of a verruca on TO20’s foot - therefore being made to feel unwelcome by DCI Tony Gates who he replaced - no surprise there. As the first series progresses - there’s not much reason to think of him as bent, he just looks like a detective lacking passion and just turns up to do what he has to do. There are little details though that become apparent when re-watching. He has a connection first and foremost to Derek Hilton having been appointed by him personally but even at this point, there wasn’t reason to suspect Hilton either - therefore plays off as a totally innocent matter. Next, after DC Kate Fleming interviews a young Ryan Pilkington, he turns up flustered and very disgruntled that Kate has proceeded to interview him - especially after it transpires she was an undercover officer from Anti-Corruption. On early viewing - it's easy to put that down to the fact Kate had gotten there first and because it transpired she was an UCO. But we never see what went on in the respective interview apart from Ryan asking for a Big Mac. We last see Buckells allowing Dot to talk to Tommy Hunter after he’s arrested - and we all know how that turned out. But, it does appear that Buckells hasn't got a clue what's going on, he just shrugs and gives that whole yeah no skin off my nose approach, displaying quite a laid-back and care free attitude still. Buckells reappears in series 4 as the replacement SIO on Operation Trap Door after DCI Roz Huntley is removed from the case, again appointed by Derek Hilton and coincidentally where Kate is again undercover. No surprise Kate looks worried as they'd already crossed paths at TO20. Hastings and Arnott quite rightly confront Buckells and instruct him to keep Fleming's true identity secret and if her cover was compromised, everyone would know who to blame. When her cover is initially blown, the first and foremost conclusion was Buckells had not listened to strict instructions given. However, after details of Kate's personal life were leaked also, Kate didn't feel like the leak had come from Buckells as it was unlikely he knew anything regarding that. And, when confronted, Buckells concluded spitefully that UCO's have a shelf life therefore easily being recognisable after time. This is the last we see of him. The theory that Buckells could be the fourth dot has certainly become more spoken about recently. He's been featured in the show since the beginning albeit for two of the series, and will be appearing in series 6 too, part of Hillside Lane nick. The fact he's quite an unpopular and quieter member of the force could hide him in plain sight to being bent. In black and white, the idea of Buckells ordering hits and pulling strings for some of the most dangerous criminals is kind of hilarious. But, evidently there are little details scattered during his stints on the show that have got people talking. I do feel Jed has always known from the start who's bent and who isn't or has at least had the basics thought out - I've never seen a writer with such sharp continuity, there are plenty of writers and creators that should really take note! But, moving on from my very slight tangent - do I think Buckells is the fourth dot? Okay, I've changed my mind on this numerous times but since watching the trailer, I'm more cemented on no. I think there could be some dodgy stuff going on with Buckells, he's ascended up the ranks quite quickly, even if he isn't the sharpest tool in the shed at times. We often say it's always the quiet ones. And he's had connections to Hilton but I'd be very surprised if he's been calling the shots. His whole demeanour could have been a farce from the off but I think we have more chance of floating up the lagan in a bubble. I mean he looked like he'd been caught robbing an orchard when he was confronted by Ted and Steve. I think he'll pose an interesting asset to the new series but I

don't think he'll be the main guy.

The third person is the new Chief Constable Philip Osborne. In series 1, he was the Chief Inspector for the Counter Terrorism Unit where Steve was involved in the wrongful killing of Karim Ali. He demanded that the team lie about the incident so the killing was justified however Steve refused and was ultimately removed from the unit and subsequently assigned to AC12. He does crop again as the series progresses, seemingly having a close relationship with Hilton (they all seem to be close to Hilton) and after DCI Tony Gates diverts the motive behind the murders on the Borogrove estate being linked to terrorism and not drug dealing. He's last seen at the inquest into the death of Karim Ali which led to no prosecutions for any of the officers involved. It has since been revealed he's the new Chief Constable of Central Police as of Series 6 and I'm sure he's bound to appear. Whilst not heavily featured over the show's run, I'm feeling it likely for him to be the fourth dot. Just like Buckells, he's had direct connection to Hilton and definitely appeared to have at least a professional friendship. He was quick to order a cover up into a wrongful shooting. And was very willing to help with the possible terrorism links with the incidents on the Borogrove Estate which were bogus. Whilst off-screen he's worked his way up to the top. Ted remarks in the trailer "A bare faced liar, promoted to our highest office!" - and whilst it alludes to him talking about Sindhwani - I think that's going to be way too obvious. I think he's either talking to or talking about Osborne. Of course Ted was very supportive of Steve during the inquest in series 1 and was definitely not impressed by Osborne's actions and wouldn't be pleased with him being the CC. Also, the show would ultimately be going full circle to the beginning again and I really like the idea of that happening. So much of series 1 has been significant later on. We've not had much screen time with Osborne but I think he's my favourite to be the fourth dot. He certainly fits the bill of being corrupt and has plausible connections. There's a scene with Osborne, Hilton and Dot in series 1 and I certainly love the idea of three of the most corrupt officers being thrown right in our faces right at the beginning and us all being none the wiser. I'd considered him before but after the trailer and easter eggs, it's looking far more likely. Of course no one knew that the show would have become the roaring success it has back in series 1 however I am confident Jed had foundations in place and possible scenarios as to where the show would go.

In conclusion, there are plenty of possibilities of who this mysterious fourth dot is, but I'm happy with my conclusion of Osborne. Hopefully after the seven episodes I can either be impressed with my deductions or cringe as to why I ever came to such conclusions!

Dot Cottan's Dying Declaration

Series 3 concluded with the death of DI Matthew Cottan whom AC12 finally learned was the real caddy and not DS Steve Arnott who Dot had tried to pin it on. His explosive exit is mine and many people's favourite series finale. We only saw a glance of his declaration that DC Kate Fleming took - that then led to the conviction of Patrick Fairbank. It's not until series 4 however where PC Maneet Bindra is blackmailed to harvest this declaration and we as viewers finally get to view more - having been recorded on a fellow officers body-cam. Kate tries to get Dot to reveal the top dog by asking him "blink twice for the first letter of his name" - we all know he blinks at H however the medics intervene before Kate can get him to finish. This was of course the first encounter with "H". We revisit Dot's dying declaration in series 5 during Ted's questioning by AC3 - again we're shown the same part, slightly extended to showcase the morse code sequence, however, Kate's dialogue is different - now saying "right, blink with the first two letters of his name." I personally never noticed this until I saw others discussing it and apparently they differed in the scripts too so was a deliberate move by Jed. I think this will be picked up in some regard and Kate herself will come under fire for it. I believe the body-cam footage was actually shot along with series 4 and Craig Parkinson was invited back for the scenes which subsequently featured again in series 5 too - and I'm feeling confident they shot both versions as Jed would have likely had future plots planned out. Like series 1-3 had some kind of arc, I think 4-6 is the exact same and a lot of things will be rounded off. I imagine it will be picked up that there are two versions of the declaration. I know there are very mixed feelings on this subject but knowing the way Jed works, the differences will be significant. I will be very shocked and disappointed if this is not addressed but seeing how we left the previous series with more questions thanks to the declaration, it surely has to feature again. The question of why it was changed? I think it was more than likely doctored by Hilton to try and incriminate Hastings for being H - blinking for the first two letters, H being first, Kate trying to start the sequence again but being cut off by medics, what's first? A! Hilton replaced the original with the edited version which was able to be accessed by the necessary personnel however I'm sure the original still exists somewhere, possibly for leverage? But how could he have changed the dialogue and make it sound convincing? It's farfetched and I mean I'm sure anything's possible but the whole Morse Code thing was also very farfetched too so I'm at that point of my tether where that could honestly happen. Hastings of course has seen both versions and Kate having been the one taking the declaration surely would have noticed but there is no indication that he's noticed a difference nor Kate. And after the meeting he shared with Hilton in series 4, I'm sure that was the trigger of him editing it. Or Kate could have edited herself which a lot of fans have suggested but the only was she'd have access surely is if she was bent - this is a really hard one because there's a lot of theories! Mine is a wild and very patchy theory but I just can't see them not addressing the fact that they were different. Again I'll cover a bit more about Kate's possible involvement in her own section.

And mentioning the Morse code aspect of the declaration - anyone I've spoken to personally about it were left feeling conflicted with the whole idea. Is it going to be a total red-herring and Steve has clearly been barking up the wrong tree? No doubt there is still someone who's very corrupt within the force but I wouldn't have left the series hanging on that revelation if it were to turn out to have no meaning. Also, there were many easier ways of indicating the number four - but then again Dot was pretty much dead at this point so wasn't exactly able to function properly, haha!

To summarise I think we'll see the declaration again and both versions will be flagged and we'll find out why. If we're thinking about series 4, 5 and 6 having an arc, it is a very important aspect to be answered and concluded. I'm rather excited about them going into this again. I can see Hilton having doctored the footage but Kate will come under fire for it. Or maybe Kate did it herself, but why? What has she got to gain, unless she's bent, or been blackmailed? This is going to be a headache, I can sense it now! Imagine if we got the answers from Dot himself... nah, he's dead.

DCI Joanne Davidson

Kelly MacDonald has taken over the lead guest role baton and it's very exciting! We have finally seen more than a glimpse of her character in the trailer and teaser. All we know thus far is she is the DCI at Hillside Lane Station and that she'll be coming under scrutiny for her handling of the Gail Vella murder case. Kate appears to be on her team (as herself or undercover is currently a mystery) and alongside we have DSU Buckells, PS Farida Jatri and newcomer DS Lomax (Played by Perry Fitzpatrick). Honestly one of the first questions that plagued on my mind was will she survive? Four out of the five prior lead guest stars have met a grizzly end. I mean let's face it Roz didn't exactly escape unscathed either with only one hand left. It's hard to judge before the series starts on the guest lead. We were led up the wrong path last series with Stephen Graham. I know this next series will be jam-packed and the most insane yet so I'm expecting a lot from Kelly's character! I think she's going to be the most complex of the leads and I think we'll be often changing our minds about her - from what we've seen she seems a promising and good copper, but PS Jatri has stated in the trailer 'you don't know what's she's capable of,' very exciting! I'm looking forward to her being interrogated, she'll knock those scenes out of the park! It's hard to put predictions out there when there's not a lot to go on but I'm sure I'll have more solid theories once the series has started!

Have Kate and Steve really left AC12?

We've been accustom to a couple of teasers. Steve talking to his ex Nicola Rogerson about feeling that his road with anti-corruption is at an end and looking likely to be joining her team. Maybe he does feel this way because he still hasn't got his promotion!!! Some people have suggested he might have instead been demoted, ouch! Then Kate out with Joanne and her team, referring to her as 'boss'. I'm sure Kate's undercover but perhaps maintaining the farce that she's moved on from AC12. As Ian Buckells stated, UCO's have a shelf-life and I'm sure she'd be recognised by most forces now, especially with the awards she's won. Then again she could just be plainly undercover - what surnames beginning with F hasn't she used? Haha! We haven't seen Steve undercover in the same way as Kate, he was technically undercover when being all pally with Lindsay Denton but it would be cool to see him as a full blown UCO and I don't think he'd be suspected. But why would Steve be going undercover? That's what I'd be unsure on. Again, plenty of questions with not many answers. AC12 has come under fire plenty of times so it's likely it's in favour of being dissolved, especially with an easter egg of CC Osborne highlighting AC12 as a cause of concern, especially with Ted running the ranks still. Or is it a massive twist that Kate has really left and Steve is following suit? I remember when they first started filming in early 2020 there was a tweet shared with a picture of Martin, Adrian and Jed - captioned "But where's Kate?" - of course we were all quick to speculate that she was undercover but from the information we now have, she may in fact have moved on. We know she has rekindled her marriage but things still looked rocky - maybe she has left to save her marriage by working in a department where she's going to be a 'better mum and wife.' (Come on her husband was a total dick.) However, I do like the idea of the fact that she's undercover, but only Ted knows, so even Steve believes her AC12 days are over - and that could even be ammunition for him to leave as he's got itchy feet not having Kate as his working partner anymore - but as I said maybe Steve is moving on because there's no promotion or even a demotion. (Oh I love the joking about his poor promotion that got lost in the post). But, from other behind the scenes snippets we've seen also, our favourite trio look to be working together within AC12, so whatever happens, they'll be all back in their rightful places eventually. To add, Adrian said on Graham Norton the first episode starts in an unexpected place with a lot for us to get our heads around - so I imagine things are going to appear very different first thing and our favourites being absent is looking highly likely! Weighing up the options, I am leaning towards Kate being secretly undercover whilst everyone believes she's in fact moved on. I'm guessing Steve will be going undercover as well, I don't feel he'd leave AC12 on his own accord with so much still unsolved without absolute good reason - unless of course, no promotion (I'll stop now).

Has Steve Arnott FINALLY got his promotion?

(Sorry I'm not stopping) A major running joke now - poor Steve has remained a DS throughout the show. Whilst Kate progressed from DC to DI between series 3 and 5. Series 4 featured both Steve and Kate eager to progress to Detective Inspector. Ted favoured Steve due to 'experience' - leaving Kate extremely disheartened. Fair enough though, Steve had a lot more years under his belt at the Sergeant level. However Ted had been accused of being sexist and I think that made him uncomfortable. But firstly, Steve found himself in another situation half way through series 4 - being attacked with a baseball bat and chucked down some stairs - leaving him unable to walk and facing the prospect of never walking again. This of course would put any ambitions on hold and something Ted would have to consider too. It's not really touched upon in the rest of the series. When we return in series 5, we quickly learn that Kate is now a DI. More than likely due to Steve's accident but could also be to tick boxes too - Gill Biggeloe does make a point of highlighting that Ted had promoted a woman and joked that would exactly be what a sexist would do. There doesn't appear to be any hostility between Kate and Steve throughout series 5 in regards to this but I do side with Kate on the fact he kept quiet about Corbett being the CHIS because she was an inspector - not the only reason but one of them. Then again, Steve has a tendency to get himself in situations so it's no surprise. Moving forward to the golden question, I think we've all noticed that Steve's epaulettes have been conveniently hidden in promos - however eagle-eyed fans have concluded that it looks like he does in fact have the inspector epaulettes in the trailer. About time! The circumstances around his promotion are hard to guess though. Will he get promoted in the middle of the series - it deserves all the fuss after all right? Or will he be replacing Kate because she's 'moved on' - who knows but I'm feeling confident we'll wrap up series six with Detective Inspector Steve Arnott. Imagine if Jed was teasing us and he doesn't get promoted or has in fact been demoted to DC - it's safe to say we'll all be unhappy haha!

Oh boy, what's occurring with Kate?

Over the past five series, Kate Fleming has been awfully lucky and escaped the main brutal drama - usually Steve being handed it. All she's really endured is her cover being blown on undercover operations, having an affair with her friend Jayne's husband who turned out to be as dodgy as Jayne and ultimately being kicked out of the family home as a result and losing custody of her son - and getting a good kick in the gut from Lindsay Denton. In comparison, not as brutal to almost getting a finger amputated and being chucked down some stairs along with numerous failed relationships. As I mentioned before, Steve and Ted have been accused of being bent - got to be Kate's turn now right? Definitely a bookies favourite of being 'H' (Come on folks, we know H isn't a person anymore.) or being the fourth person. I'm sure anyone who follows my blog can see who my favourite is and how I'll be very devastated if she turns out to be corrupt. But I'm feeling quite sure that she'll finally be the other side of the table officially (being questioned in series 1 and 3 doesn't count in my books as she was undercover). We've already had a teaser of herself and Joanne being surrounded by armed police - and Steve and Ted (Is this the first time Steve's seen her in a while? I'm leaning towards this being the case), looking terrified and having a gun on her - so yes - we do already know there will be Kate drama at this point. Line of Duty is always full of surprises. A big twist has been teased in episode 4 - will Kate be involved? I reckon it's likely. We've seen a police car appear to fly off road into water - and I'm pretty sure Kate will be in that car! Out of the trio - we definitely know the least about Kate. All we really know is that she trained at Ryton, is married with a son and not much else. She explained to Ryan her parents split when she was young and was out of the house a lot cos of this, not caring what she got up to. Eagle eyed fans would also know her full name is Katherine Laura and her maiden name was Donnelly (Series 2 whilst Denton was looking at her file). It would be interesting to learn more about her background as we really don't know much! At the end of series 5 we see her arrive home late to an empty house - her husband and son having gone to the pictures as planned - I do think they were certainly alluding to the next series (With Steve also but I'll get to that) - we'll see more of her personal side. You know I wouldn't be surprised if she was separated again.

And because we know so little, has she been dodgy from the off and we haven't known? Someone shared a really interesting theory on the basis of what she shared with Ryan, (featured on the shrine of duty podcast) that in her teens, someone may have attempted to recruit her just like Dot was but she saw through it, knowing it would lead to something that it would be best to stay clear of. Was she a troublemaker in her teens? Up to all sorts of anti-social behaviour? I love this idea and can totally see it! We know Steve's story of ending up in AC12 and we know Ted's background in the Royal Ulster Constabulary. But we don't know much about Kate's circumstances of joining the force or even AC12 - I would love to find out more about that!

Could her husband be dodgy? We don't know much about him at all. That would be an interesting twist. There's definitely still hostility there and I was surprised they got back together.

Especially from series 5, a lot more people have leant towards Kate being bent, being the fourth dot, etc. I've already said I can't see her being bent, or not in the same terms as Dot for example. Some people believe Dot took the bullet because she was in on stuff, but pulling the caddy investigation in on Dot wouldn't make much sense then. That all seemed to me she was doing the right thing and wanting the appropriate persons brought to justice. However a lot of her decisions in series 5 have come under fire from fans. For example not taking a declaration from Hargreaves, not addressing Ted's unlawful Fahreinheit order until after the events played out to name a couple. Even still, all her decisions to me seemed to warrant doing good and going after whoever it was being bent. I mean she had been happy to go after both Steve and Ted but I always saw that because she wanted the bent coppers getting their comeuppance - and in both instances, instead discovered other people were in fact the culprits and did what she could to put the investigations in the right direction. I mean yes she's happy to pin stuff on anyone but herself but that doesn't mean she's dodgy, just that she wants to get the job done - I don't think anyone would lead an investigation straight for themselves, that's just silly!

Has she edited Dot's declaration? I think the only two logical people are either Kate herself or Hilton as I've previously discussed. We'll see her come under fire for some things for sure and that would be one of them!

I've never been a huge fan of any of the main three being corrupt - I think any copper can do things that could be seen as bent, but that's what happens when you have the power of the law. All three have made questionable decisions. I don't think it's possible to be squeaky clean as anyone can make decisions that lead to consequences.

To summarise, I think Kate will be accused of being bent, I think she's going to have a lot of drama coming her way. I think she's going to get in a lot of bother. But I don't think she's going to be what we'd call bent. I think we'll learn things we won't expect about her, especially regarding her personal life. What I know for sure it's going to be exciting, thrilling, action-packed - and I cannot wait to see Kate's prime time to shine.

Steve and a painkiller addiction?

In the series 5 'wrap-up' - we see Steve alone in his flat taking medication - clearly for his back. Some fans looked into that sequence as foreshadowing to a possible pain-killer addiction? It would be an interesting turn for his character. There was a point where he wasn't sure if he was going to walk again and has clearly been dosed up on painkillers since the incident. One of the easter eggs that's been shared is of his prescription - and I'm certain he's still on the medication when we resume - one of the medications he's taking has a warning of causing addiction. Addiction in drama is usually focused on illegal drugs - but not often with prescribed medications. I don't think Jed would have had a sequence focused on Steve's medication if it weren't to be significant. He's clearly still coming to terms with his injury and its affected him in the bedroom too - I won't be surprised if poor Steve is still having issues - maybe that's why he turned down a drink with Nicola and not because he was trying to be professional. Maybe it's why he's leaving AC12. He came back to work on his own decision, I don't think a professional would have advised his return to work so early and now that's catching up to him. We've seen a lot of physical stunts upcoming, and Steve on the front-line with a firearm. I won't be surprised if his medication causes issues or he actually ends up causing more damage to his back, especially because he appears to be in a white van and we know there is a stunt involving a white van! I think his injuries will seriously catch up to him!

Returning characters?

We've had the surprise of Nicola Rogerson reappearing for the first time since series 2 (mentioned in series 3). Most of the time surprise returns are kept under wraps until transmission. Lindsay Denton's return in series 3 probably being one of the biggest and most notable cases. The trailer also revealed PC Farida Jatri will be appearing in series 6, first appearing as an officer on Roz Huntley's team at Polk Avenue. I think we all like to check IMDb to see if anything has been spilled, Steph Corbett has appeared on the list and whilst that's actually plausible seeing Ted looked as if he were giving her the missing 50k, IMDb has often had incorrect cast listings on purpose. I'm pretty confident Philip Osborne will be returning. I imagine we will see Sam Railston again too. I would love Nigel Morton and his cane to return, he's got off lightly to say the least, and he definitely knows what to and not to get involved in. And with a video from Martin's instagram, we've seen both Anna Maxwell Martin and Gregory Piper lurking so I'm happy to assume DCS Carmichael and Ryan Pilkington will be back for sure. I believe the two shady prison officers who made Lindsay Denton a cup of tea look likely to reappear, that will be interesting! With Jed, anyone who isn't dead could return... Then again remember when he posted that picture of Stephen and Craig and people went nuts thinking Dot was really alive? And, there's been a lot of teasing as to who could crop up. Lindsay Denton's name has been floating around the past couple of days thanks to Jed, she's quite frankly dead but will we get a flashback or some new footage? I think we will all go nuts if Keeley Hawes had sneakily returned to film new stuff, especially with her very hectic schedule, that woman hasn't stopped. Anything's possible at this point. We can't always trust everything but that's part of the fun of it!

A new character we haven't seen but has been mentioned!

I'll briefly touch on this. It has been alluded a character will pop up that has been mentioned in passing but never been seen before. Popular theories include somebody off Danny Waldron's list (Plausible after Fairbank was see in the trailer again) or one of the officers off the H board. I am personally leaning towards Dot Cottan's ex missus turning up. She was mentioned to Kate by Dot, and we know she works in forensics, a very convenient place to work if things need tampering with. I just think she'd be the most interesting person to turn up after all this time, mentioned once and never again - it's surprising seeing Dot turned out to be bent and she was working in the force too...

What next with Ted?

Ted did go through a lot at the end of series 5. Being accused of being H, murdering John Corbett, Anne-Marie McGillis and being bribed with 50k (Sorry 100k but shh they don't need to know that). Ted was cleared on all charges but has been given a final written warning. AC12 is definitely going to be under the watchful eye of the higher ups as alluded too in easter eggs. We've seen Ted very distressed in a lift and him getting awfully flustered at the Police Headquarters. I don't think his troubles are going to be over any time soon. The case of the other 50k could possibly come up again, seeing Mark Moffatt was sure to stress it was 100k. We don't know what happened between him and Steph, and with her supposedly reappearing - it's likely it'll be revisited. Will his money troubles be any better? Is he finally going to be out of the Edge Park Hotel with the dodgy toilet? Has he finally moved on from Roisin? I saw a suggestion from someone somewhere (can't remember who or where) that Roisin was now involved with someone who may be the corrupt officer, god could you imagine if her new fella turned out to be Osborne? What a way to really kick Ted whilst he's already down. There were also a couple of other things too that were left unanswered. Why did Ted REALLY dispose of his laptop (come on Ted, no one disposes their laptop for watching naughty things)? What did Ted say to Lee Banks? I don't think we'll ever learn the latter and that'll be down to audience interpretation but the laptop definitely needs to be addressed again. Is Ted actually dodgy? He ain't H put it that way but he's made some questionable decisions. Right now I want to know what's got him upset in the lift! And will Ted reach the end of his journey at AC12?! I really hope not but he's skating on thin ice being on a final warning, and the higher ups don't have a lot of trust to say the least.

Ryan in the police force.

At the end of series 5, Ryan has begun his police training. We've been told roughly 18 months have passed between the two series so I reckon if all's gone well (It has, of course it has) - he'll be a police officer somewhere within central police, being naughty. As already mentioned, we have seen Gregory Piper behind the scenes - so we'll be seeing Ryan again, which was inevitable really. It's hard to guess where he'll turn up but more than likely away from the trio. However I'm looking forward to Steve coming face to face with him again. He's managed to lie-low and not be detected by the team - as far as they're aware, most if not all of the OCG has been neutralised. He did a pretty good job staying out of the way with all the drama that happened. In the trailer, I did notice Ryan's picture on the infamous board - so he's definitely going to be detected - but how, by who and when? I'm looking forward to seeing how it all unravels but I'm sure it's going to be explosive.

Is Dot Cottan alive in witness protection?

Did he really die? Well... Nahhh you thought I was really going to talk about this? I love Dot, he's one of my favourite characters and I do deep down think it would be awesome for him to be alive somewhere. But realistically I do think it would be a big 'cop out'. He's Dot Cottan, not Dirty Den... Yeah yeah we never saw a mention of a funeral and the camera panned out before he officially died but yeah I think he looked pretty screwed, don't you? I will admit that I was low-key hoping that picture of the geezer leaving those flats was Dot... I do miss all the series 5 speculation. But yeah, Dot Cottan is definitely dead.

My overall hopes for Series 6.

I'm definitely not the only one who's hoping six won't be the last series. It has now been revealed that Jed 'doesn't know' and suggesting that everything that needs answering will be this series. Just like in series 3. Series 3 was the best series so far and I'm hoping series 6 will live up to that, and the cast have certainly teased that it will. It feels weird knowing so much could be wrapped up in seven weeks. I'm going to make the most of this series seeing a seventh might not be on the cards. I trust Jed and if the show comes to a natural conclusion after this then needs must. I think we'll have a better understanding if the show could go on once we have seen all of series 6! I really hope Steve finally gets his promotion and things will start to look up for him. Ted as well, he's had nothing but crap shovelled into his bubble recently. I also hope we get plenty of explosive Kate scenes which I think we definitely will. Having only seen a little of Kelly MacDonald in action so far I can't create any hopes without seeing more. Maybe she'll be the first lead guest star to survive and with all limbs in tact. As one of Scotland's finest actresses - I know that we'll be in for a real treat! I'm hoping for DCS Carmichael to have lots of scenes - I actually really love her character and hope to find out more about her. Seeing Anna sneaking in the background of one of Martin's instagram stories, no doubt she's reappearing as I mentioned before. I'm hoping for an explosive reunion with Ryan and Steve. I'm excited for all the Tedisms. I'm looking forward to bad-ass queen Kate. Oh and I can't wait to hear our favourite beeeeeeeeepppppp - interrogation scenes are really the best. I'm feeling like this will be the greatest and most explosive series yet.

Oh boy, this has taken up a lot of my time and I'm glad I didn't finish until some more information had come to light. I want to thank anyone who read all of this long ass post. I want to thank a couple of my absolute favourite blogs for giving me a push to finish and share this. I know I've probably missed some stuff but what was going to be quick thing turned into hours. These theories could be correct, could be completely wrong! But I'm looking forward to re-reading this after everything's happened. I'm not sure whether I'll share thoughts after every episode yet but if my mind is whirring enough I'm sure I'll conjure up something! It's almost 4am and I'm glad to be done with this! I'll be curious to know what you think! I apologise if I have made any mistakes in this but I've gone through and think all information is correct, if not, Ted will be issuing me with a Reg 15 quicker than you can say houl yer whisht!

Much love and gearing up for Sunday!

#line of duty #series 6 #ted hastings #adrian dunbar #steve arnott #martin compston #kate fleming #vicky mcclure #this turned out to be long didn't it #i've gone crazy #but thank you for reading it all #bbc #jed mercurio #line of duty theories #kelly macdonald #joanne davidson #tedisms #i didnt float up the lagan in a bubble #houl yer whisht

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labelma · 4 years ago

Text

all the pain of yesterday

Read on Ao3

When the call comes, it’s a surprise.

Maybe it shouldn’t be, but it is.

“Hello, is this Fiona Gallagher?”

Somehow, Fiona just knows. She doesn’t know how or why, but...

“Yes this is her.”

The woman’s voice is soft, but clear, there’s quiet murmur in the background, it reminds Fiona of every time she got a call from the police station, the hospital, the school. For a moment, she feels like she’s 21 again, scared, alone, at her wit’s end, trying to hold everything together, scraping by with the skin of her teeth, always one wrong step from a catastrophe.

There is a split second of silence where Fiona knows this is it. Whatever the woman has to say- there’s no going back from it, as soon as the silence breaks. And it does.

“This is Brenda at Kindred Hospital South, your father Frank Gallagher was brought in experiencing hypoxia, disorientation and a high fever,”

This is it

“We regret to inform you that we did-“

This is how it happens

“Everything we could-“

Fiona’s blood runs cold,

“But your father passed away this evening at 8:46 from complications due to Covid-19.”

She knew it was coming. They all did. Frank had been dancing with death for years, how he had even managed to hold on for so long was beyond her.

It seemed that Frank’s luck had finally run dry.

“Would you like to make arrangements? If not we would be happy to help…”

Fiona isn’t listening. She tells the nurse to do whatever they need to do before hanging up.

She surprises herself when she feels tears prick the corners of her eyes, and she clenches her jaw. They won’t fall. She won’t cry over Frank. Not anymore. Not ever.

She takes a moment for herself, a moment to breath, a moment to consider the fact that she’s now lost both her parents, even if she lost them both years ago to drugs, to the bottle, to insanity.

She takes the briefest moment to grieve what could have been before stopping herself.

What’s done is done.

Her parents made their decisions, and she made hers.

Fiona thinks that at least now Frank and Monica will get to make each other miserable for eternity while they’re burning in the deepest pits of hell.

Or was it freezing?

Fiona never paid much attention in church anyway, on those rare occasions they went, usually to sneak bills from the collections plate.

Phone in her hand, screen still on from the phone call, Fiona realizes she doesn’t know what the next steps are.

Her instinct is to hop on the L, deal with the situation as it comes, never planning, never even able to plan because of the speed at which things fell apart. Her instinct is to go grab Frank from whatever shithole situation he got himself in, and slap some sense into him.

But obviously, Fiona couldn’t hop on the L, she was standing in the middle of the street in Chula Vista, California. Gone were the days of running into burning buildings with no forethought. Fiona had her life together. She had a serious job. She wasn’t busy juggling teens and pre-teens anymore.

And of course, there was no Frank to slap sense into anymore.

An odd pang twisted Fiona’s stomach at the thought.

She’s brought back to the presence when someone stumbles into her from behind,

“Perdóneme,”

The woman doesn’t look much older than she is, and she’s busy pushing a stroller with one hand, pulling a toddler along with the other.

Fiona sighs.

It’s time to face the music.

She calls her kids.

<hr>

Arrangements are made. Fiona honestly has very little say in them.

Frank wanted to be cremated, his family didn’t give nearly a big enough shit to make it fancy.

He had no possessions of value, nothing to give to his kids other than stained furniture, empty bottles, and trauma.

Really, Fiona is coming back for Liam.

Fiona was the guinea pig. The oldest daughter, the one who had no one except a wino father and batshit crazy mother to look after her.

Lip and Ian, born so close together, both so resilient, but still so so young when they first learned the hard way of Frank’s negligence.

Debbie and Carl, young enough to remember the times before Fiona dropped out of high school and made being a mother to her siblings a full time job. Old enough to remember all the times Frank stole their money, ruined their creations, hurt their very fragile childish feelings.

But Liam?

Liam never lived in a world where he had to be raised by Frank of Monica Gallagher.

And Fiona knows that she wasn’t the best guardian either. She knows that she abandoned him, even though she was the only mother he’d ever known. She knows that she’s done worse things.

But even when she fucked up, Lip was there to pick it up. And Ian behind him. And now Debbie and Carl are adults too. Liam would be just fine without her in the long run.

But still. Liam had the good fortune to be born last, young enough to be raised by his siblings, to never feel the sting of abuse and neglect the way the oldest five always had.

And Frank had always loved Liam, loved him so much. Liam was so kind, maybe even too kind. He loved Frank back, even though they all knew Frank was not deserving of such care from his youngest son.

So Fiona knew, knew it like she knew herself, that Liam, of all the Gallaghers, was going to be the most devastated.

And well, she missed her other kids too.

She hadn’t seen Franny far too long, hadn’t even met Fred. She missed Ian’s wedding, Carl’s graduation from the academy.

She’d stayed up to date of course, speaking with her siblings on the phone, FaceTiming to see her nieces and nephews, but she knew what it was like in Chicago. If you weren’t there you may as well not exist.

Fiona liked it that way.

When her plane had arrived at the San Diego International Airport all those years ago, she almost had a panic attack, nearly booked the next flight back to Chicago.

It had gotten easier with time.

For her entire life she’d been so tied to the little house on Wallace, she didn’t know who she was without it.

It was time to find out.

And she did.

She did find out, she found out what she was capable of, she found out how successful she could be, she found out who she was without living her life for her siblings.

Not that she would ever hold it against them but… She did what she could. It was time for her to live her own life now.

And for those very reasons, she was terrified of going back to Chicago.

She was terrified that all the progress, everything she built, all that she’d become, was nothing more than smoke and mist, ready to blow away the minute she arrived in the Windy City.

Which is why she never visited when Fred was born, or considered flying in to meet him.

Which is why when she received the surprisingly tasteful wedding invitation to Ian and Mickey Milkovich’s wedding, she regretfully declined.

She was so scared.

So scared she would go back and never be able to leave again.

But some of the fear had worn off over the months.

Her new life felt less like smoke, and more like a healthy young tree, still growing, but strong enough to weather a storm.

It was time to return.

<hr>

The plane ride feels oddly unceremonious for how anxious Fiona feels.

She watches as the Southern California coast line disappears from sight as the plane flies eastward, and wonders how she’ll be received when she arrives.

She doesn’t tell the kids she’s coming for a visit, worried they’ll make a big deal out of it, or worse, do nothing at all.

Chicago is exactly like she remembers it, and yet nothing like it used to be. Still dirty, windy, freezing, especially after her years spent in the San Diegan sun, but dotted with new boutiques, nicer buildings, fences that don’t look like they’re about to crumble into a pile of dust.

She has to fight to control her breathing in the Uber back to the old Gallagher house.

The sight of the sun setting over the familiar buildings of the South Side makes her feel something unidentifiable.

The house looks much the same as always, if not just a bit nicer due to Lip’s efforts to fix it up.

She hesitates for just a moment at the front door before turning the handle and walking in, refusing to give in to her doubts.

The TV is on, as usual. Debbie sits texting on the couch while Franny, much bigger than the last time Fiona saw her lounges on the couch engrossed in the colorful TV show, Carl next to her, also engrossed in the show.

She hears banging in the kitchen, and she walks towards it to find Lip hammering at the shelving unit, Tami preoccupied with hushing Fred, while Ian and Mickey sit at the kitchen table passing a beer back and forth, talking quietly.

Fiona is only a little surprised that she hasn’t been noticed yet. She’s quieter than she used to be, and each one of her siblings seems to be in their own little worlds.

It’s Liam who sees her first as he walks down the stairs, eyes red, looking tired, though his face lights up as soon as his eyes fall on her.

“Fiona!”

He runs into her arms, and the tears Fiona has been managing to hold back for days finally fall. She holds her youngest brother, and breathes in the familiar smell of his hair.

Liam’s shout alerts the rest of the family to her presence, and for a few minutes Fiona is wrapped in hug after hug, feeling laughter bubbling up in her chest.

It strikes her that even after so long away, she can still read her siblings like a book.

Lip is tense, she can feel it in the way he hugs her, in the hard set of his features, though Tami seems happy enough.

Carl and Debbie are both distracted, though the days where she could tell what kind of things they’d be distracted by are long gone.

Ian looks lighter, happier than she’s ever seen him, and for the smallest moment, she worries that Frank’s death may have thrown him into a manic episode before she notices the way Mickey has his hand firmly planted on his shoulder, and though Fiona was never quite able to trust him in the past, she thinks she does now.

She holds Franny against her hip, marveling at how heavy she is, while Liam entwines his fingers with hers.

Fiona gets the sense that she’s missed so much, and yet nothing at all, everyone falling into their familiar roles.

They settle in with coffee to catch up, Fiona hanging on every word, desperate to soak up everything she’s missed.

Lip decided not to sell the house in the end, figuring that the value in owning property was worth more than a quick payout which would disappear quicker that you’d think.

With Ian and Mickey in a new apartment and Frank… gone, the house was quieter, less crowded, a better place to raise two kids, at least until Lip and Tami could afford to move out.

Debbie had sworn off dating, saying she was sick of dating psycho chicks. Fiona laughs along with her and agrees, dating hasn’t been so kind to her either, but she suspects that Debbie will change her tune when the next person willing to go down on her comes along. She shares that same trait with Debbie, something she’s been trying to work on as she gets older and realizes how fucked up her habits and coping mechanisms are.

Liam is grieving, and Fiona’s heart aches for him. She cups her hands around his sallow cheeks and as she kisses his face and celebrates when he brushes her off, an embarrassed smile turning up his lips. She knows this is hard on him, Liam being the only Gallagher who truly still cared for Frank in more than just an offhand obligatory way. But she also knows that the hurt will wear off eventually as grief tends to do. Liam is young still, with so so much potential and such a bright future ahead of him. She’s not worried, even if she feels bad for leaving him.

She tells Liam that before she leaves she’s going to help get him into a good private school.

He deserves the opportunities none of his older siblings ever had.

Carl is still Carl, even if he’s trying to be a fine upstanding citizen. Still, she’s so proud he really seems to have made something of himself, even landing a stable union job.

Ian is happy, so happy, and Fiona lets his infectious joy wash over her. There was a time when Fiona worried for him. Worried he was doomed like Monica. She knew that stats, knew how hard it was for people with bipolar disorder to manage stable relationships, knew the Gallagher history was full of divorces and scorned exes, many of them hers, even without the added bonus of mental illness. When Ian was arrested and sentenced to three to five years in prison, she thought that was the end of any hope he had for a happy ending.

She’s glad she was wrong.

She can’t say she’s surprised by the reappearance of Mickey Milkovich in their lives, Mexico and prison be damned. Fiona doubted many things about Mickey, doubted his trustworthiness, doubted his intentions, doubted his stability, and all for good reason in her opinion. But one thing she never doubted was his love for her brother. Well, maybe there were times she doubted it a little, but she’s a cynical person.

She thinks that Ian and Mickey have the best relationship of any of the Gallaghers, a reality she would have laughed at 5 years ago, but it’s true.

She hopes that one day she can replicate their success, but she isn’t counting on it.

Right now she’s just working on learning to accept herself, and all her flaws.

It’s a process, but she’s getting there.

<hr>

Ultimately they decide not to hold a real funeral for Frank, not caring enough to plan one, and thinking Frank probably wouldn’t even want one.

Instead they congregate in the alley, joined by Kev and V as well as Tommy and Kermit, behind The Alibi to dump his ashes.

They aren’t so ceremonial, though Liam, with tears on his face does insist on saying a few words.

The whole ordeal takes no more than ten minutes, and when it’s over, Fiona feels like she can finally breathe.

Her entire life she was burdened with being her father’s daughter, living under his metaphorical shadow, even when she moved as far away as she could.

He haunted her every time she had a beer, every time she felt guilt creep in for leaving, every time she felt close to snapping at her new job.

But now Fiona thinks she can finally let it go, let Frank go, along with all her demons.

The flight back to feels shorter, or maybe Fiona just feels lighter. Somewhere along the way she stopped seeing Chicago as home, and finds herself eager for San Diego with its sun, beaches, and mountains. Her new home is her little apartment in Chula Vista, so close to Mexico she can cross the border whenever she wants, with her new friends, a new job, and a tan for the first time in her life.

She isn’t worried about her siblings. Lip is building a life for his new family, Ian is happily married to the love of his life, Debbie is learning and growing, trying to be a good mom to her daughter, Carl has a stable job he loves despite all odds, and Liam is the smartest and most resourceful of all of them.

They’re going to be just fine.

And so will she.

#shameless #Fiona Gallagher #gallavich #Ian Gallagher #mickey milkovich #my fic

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imagineaworlds · 4 years ago

Text

I Love You (Part Forty-Seven) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing. Mentions of PTSD, Dom/sub relationship, death, etc-- everything Criminal Minds.. I think that’s it???

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 12575

Timeline: Season 7 Episode 01. Three months after part forty-six.

For the past three months, the team had worked dozens of different cases across the country, but none of them mattered except for the one that Morgan, Garcia, and I had been working on privately. Since I came back to work and was deemed the temporary unit chief, I decided to reopen the Ian Doyle case. At first, it was just me. When I wasn’t at work, I was at home, hiding in the upstairs office, working on trying to piece all of the evidence together to figure out where the hell Doyle could have possibly gone. But then it was just too hard to keep doing it on my own, and all of my resources were wasted. There was only one person who had access to more information than I did. Garcia. So, I asked if she would be willing to help me, but it was impossible for her to keep a secret, so we invited Morgan to help us. From there, we managed to find Declan, but we didn’t tell anyone about it outside of our small group of three.

Finding Declan was an interesting process. I had hit a wall with it, hence why I acquired Garcia’s help, but she managed to find him almost immediately after she told Derek what was going on and he helped profile Emily in order to profile Declan. He figured that she had been the one to move him considering how she died protecting his identity and location. Before joining the team, apparently she lived in Reston, Virginia, something I didn’t know about her, but he managed to know. From there, we decided that it was probably to be close to Declan. So, we started narrowing it down. We knew that she liked cul-de-sacs, so as Garcia was going through the school system to find kids that looked like Declan, she compared if their guardian looked like Louise, his nanny, and if they lived in a cul-de-sac. Then, bam. We found them.

Morgan had been the one to offer up the idea of looking for Declan before Ian because if we found Declan, then so would his father eventually, which made our job easier. After that, it was just a waiting game. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much we could do beyond searching all of the footage to see if Ian ever showed up, which he never did. When Morgan and I were away on cases, Penelope kept an eye on him; and when we were in town but not working on anything, Morgan was driving baby Emily out there and taking her on walks around Declan’s neighborhood to scout the place. I think it was also just an excuse for him to have Emily more.

On our way to work one morning, Morgan and I stopped to get sandwiches for lunch, as well as some donuts from Leonard’s for the office since we were feeling generous, I suppose. At work, we split off so that he could sit in the bullpen while I dragged my feet up to my office. I didn’t understand how Hotch did it. Being away from the team all day, every day was so… isolating and exhausting. There was no joking with Morgan, teasing Reid, or… well, when Emily was around, there was no more chatting with her and gossiping about Hotch. I missed the way she used to slide in veiled threats into the conversation about how she would hurt him if he ever hurt me. So, then again, maybe it was a good thing that I wasn’t down in the bullpen anymore. Sitting at my old desk would have just given me a reason to sit there and stare at her desk all day, reflecting on what it was like to have her around, wishing that I could bring her back.

By lunch time, Morgan rescued our sandwiches from the fridge and brought them up to my office. He closed the door behind him and sat down across from me. I caught my sandwich as he threw it at me, then tossed him a water bottle from Hotch’s secret stash in his bookshelf behind the desk. I hadn’t really changed anything. For the most part, the office was still exactly how he left it. From the artwork to the family photos, to the stacks of case files that he practically left for me on his desk to work through, to his computer wallpaper of us, it was all still Hotch. The only difference was that I was finding all of his secrets now, like the water bottles, and totally taking advantage of them.

Morgan kicked his feet up on the desk, something Hotch would’ve never let him do in a thousand years, and dug into his lunch. I picked at mine for a moment while thinking. I was doing too much of that nowadays. Without my “other half” (or some cliché shit like that) around, I didn’t really know who to talk to 24/7 about what I was thinking and feeling. Sure, I could’ve talked to Morgan, but it was different. When I talked to Morgan, it was like we were brainstorming for a solution; but with Hotch, it was just like he was there to listen, and I could go on and on for hours, and he would hear me out, and he would only offer up a solution if he felt it were necessary. Sometimes I just liked ranting my thoughts to him. I liked watching how he would slowly get lost in the details of my face as I would be talking, and how he it looked like he was falling in love with me over and over again with every minute that passed. Skype and calling on the phone every day didn’t do that look justice anymore.

“Oh, my god—Oh, my god—Oh, my god!” Garcia came running into the office with a laptop balancing on one of her arms. Morgan and I turned to face her. “It’s him! It’s him!” She quickly set her laptop down on my desk and pressed play on a video. Morgan and I both leaned forward in our seats to watch the security footage from Declan’s house. “It’s Doyle—” She paused and pointed to a driver in a car passing by. It was kind of hard to see, but when she zoomed the image in and enhanced it, it was undeniably Ian Doyle.

“When was this?” I asked, jumping into action by standing from my seat and started collecting everything we had on this case thus far.

“Two hours ago.”

“He could have Declan by now. Fuck.” I looked at the two of them to say, “Okay, I think it’s time. I’m going to call Hotch to let him know, meanwhile, I need you guys to get the team together and start explaining everything. I want Reid and Rossi to go retrieve Declan and Louise after they’re briefed.” I grabbed my phone from my desk. “Go.” Just as they were leaving, I dialed Hotch’s satellite phone out in the Middle East.

Hotch and I had still been calling each other every day and Skyping as often as we could. The longer he was there, however, the busier he and I got with our two different jobs, which made it increasingly complicated to keep up with each other. But we made the effort. We knew that if at least one day passed where we wouldn’t talk, one day would inevitably turn into two, then three, and so on. I didn’t want to stop talking to him. As boring as the conversations could get at times, at least I got to see him. He was growing out a beard that I happened to love, but Jack hated. He claimed that it made his dad look old. When we could talk in private a little bit later, I told Hotch that I thought it was hot, and that I couldn’t wait to pull at it while he towered over me. He disliked when I teased him like that, though.

When I called, he picked up almost immediately.

“You’re calling awfully early,” Hotch said over the phone, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Do you have a minute?”

“For you? I have all the time in the world.”

I blushed to myself and looked down to watch the toes of my shoe dig into the ground over and over again. “There’s something you need to know, baby, and you have to promise to not get mad.” He didn’t say anything. “Morgan, Garcia, and I have been looking for Doyle while you’ve been gone.” Still, nothing. “We found Declan.”

“What?!”

“Hotch—”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this, Y/N? Do you know how stupid that was? Your whole career could—”

“I don’t care about that, Hotch. I really don’t. I knew that finding Declan was the best way of finding Ian, so I asked Garcia to help; and you know her, she couldn’t keep it to herself, so she told Morgan, and he insisted that he help us. He’s basically the one who found Declan. Without the two of them, I wouldn’t have any leads.”

Hotch sighed quietly. “Is Declan safe?”

“Yes.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Morgan’s still surveilling him—But, Hotch, listen, we were right. By watching Declan all this time, we got eyes on Ian.”

He hesitated for a moment. “You’re sure?” He sounded more scared than angry now. I hummed a “yes” in response. “Baby, listen to me right now.”

I bit my lip. “I’m listening, Sir.”

He chuckled slightly. “If you get eyes on Doyle, you need to take the shot. Got it? Don’t let him get away again.” He sounded out of breath now like he was running around. “I’m coming back to help.”

I felt my heart skip a beat and the air leave my lungs with one shocked gasp. He was coming back. After three months, I was finally going to get to hold him in my arms again, and I was going to get to kiss his lips again. Holy shit. He was coming home. My husband was coming back to me. I almost wanted to dance and cheer, scream from the top of my lungs how happy I was and that I couldn’t wait to see him; but I had to show a modicum of respect still, so I buried that feeling until I would get to see him again.

“You can do that?” I questioned cautiously. As happy as I was, could he really just abandon his post to come back like that? It sounded almost too good to be true.

“I put in the request to transfer back to Quantico about two weeks ago.” And he didn’t tell me? “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to get your hopes up on anything; but they don’t need me here anymore, so it’s not a big deal if they find a replacement.” I hopped slightly with joy and giggled. Hotch chuckled at me. “I can’t wait to see you, baby.”

Even considering the circumstances, I couldn’t wait to see him either. “Call me when you’re landing.”

“I will. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

----

By the time Garcia followed traffic camera footage across the state just to see where Doyle was hiding out, we had a SWAT team with snipers on call, and the team was ready to head out there. Just as I had ordered, Rossi and Reid headed to get Declan, but the drive was pretty far, so I didn’t expect to hear from them for a while, especially while we were in the early stages of staking out Doyle’s place. Morgan, JJ, and I were trapped in a van across the street from his apartment while SWAT was just down the road, and they had two snipers up on separate roofs. All of it was my call, though. The second we had reasonable cause to believe that it was actually Ian Doyle up there, I would be the one to dictate if the snipers or Morgan would be taking the shot, like Hotch said.

“That’s all Hotch said? ‘Take the shot’?” JJ questioned warily. I nodded and shrugged. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. Why?”

She shook her head. “Nothing…”

I eyed her suspiciously for a moment, taking into account how her gaze wasn’t resting on one thing, but instead a thousand different things, like she was too anxious to focus. It was odd, but I shrugged it off with the excuse that finding Doyle was a big deal. Since he killed Prentiss, we had all been itching to find him and avenge her. Out of everyone, I knew that JJ would want to know that Doyle was dead because of us. She wanted that justice. I couldn’t exactly tell why, but she had always been like that, especially since getting promoted to being a profiler.

And then my phone started ringing with a call from Spencer who had just arrived at Declan’s house. I figured it was just an update. I mean, him and Rossi were there to simply pick up Declan and Louise, that was it. But then something worrying happened when I picked up the call: Reid sounded concerned.

“Reid?”

“Declan’s missing,” he answered quickly.

“What?”

“We just searched the house, and he’s gone, so we called the school to see if he even made it home, and they told us that his mom picked him up early.”

“Louise?” I speculated.

“I doubt it.” He sounded annoyed now. “She’s dead.”

“Fuck,” I cursed under my breath, then looked up at Morgan and JJ to tell them what was going on. They also cursed, and he hit the side of the car. “Okay. Reid, you and Rossi should meet us here in case we end up seeing—” The sound of a police car’s siren flew past our van, catching our attention. It was just a squad car. No, no, no, no. Fuck. That was going to scare Doyle off. Fuck.

“He’s inside!” Morgan exclaimed. We all turned to face the window to see the drape in Doyle’s apartment window shaking like it had just been disturbed. “I saw him!” Morgan was already fiddling with the door handle and pushing his way out of the car.

“Shit…” This wasn’t at all how I imagined this going down. We were supposed to just monitor the situation, get legitimate confirmation that Doyle was in there, not just Morgan claiming he saw him— But what choice did we have now? “Go, go, go,” I made the call, following Morgan out of the van and hanging up the call with Reid.

JJ, Morgan, and I raced inside first, the SWAT van pulling up behind us and the team moving in, too. When we reached the apartment number, JJ and I stood our ground in the hallway with our weapons raised, and I gave Morgan the signal to kick the door down, which he did without hesitating, and then he dashed inside. The three of us took turned towards different sides of the apartment in order to clear it. Morgan went straight into the living room/bedroom, JJ went into the bathroom on the left, and I stepped into the tiny kitchen on the right. He wasn’t there. Neither was Declan. Reid said that they couldn’t find Declan, so I only assumed that Doyle got to him first. Fuck! How the fuck did he—

“I’ve got something!” Morgan called out. I hurried into the living room/bedroom to see him peeking up at the ceiling inside of the closet. I cocked a brow and carefully approached. “He’s climbing to the roof.” There was a hole in the ceiling for some kind of secret tunnel that led upwards.

“Follow him,” I ordered. “I’ll take the steps. JJ, watch the door downstairs to make sure he doesn’t get out, and coordinate with SWAT to make sure that the block is locked down just in case. Get a crime scene team here to see if Declan was ever here.”

Morgan holstered his weapon then quickly pulled himself up into the tunnel to follow Doyle, meanwhile I hurried out into the hallway to start sprinting up the rest of the stairs, and JJ ran down them. How the fuck did this happen? How did we lose Declan like this, and how was Doyle actually planning on getting out of this?

And then I burst out onto the roof to see Morgan chasing after Doyle who was running for the fire escape on the side of the building. Morgan aimed his weapon, but didn’t shoot. Instead, he tried commanding Doyle to stop. Like that would help.

“I’ve got the shot,” one of the snipers said over the comms.

“Don’t shoot!” I exclaimed. “Don’t!” I knew what Hotch said about taking the shot if given the chance, but things were different now that we couldn’t find Declan in the apartment. Our only way of getting him back now was by keeping his father alive. Asshole. “Hold your fire!” When nothing came, Morgan tackled Doyle and spun him onto his stomach so that he could be handcuffed. “You got it?” I asked him. He nodded while slapping the cuffs on Doyle. “I’ll have JJ take him back to the office while we start going through everything downstairs.”

Morgan groaned as he yanked Doyle up onto his feet. “You’re not gonna let me take a crack at him?”

“Not yet.”

Doyle chuckled. I squinted at him while searching his eyes for a reason that he could have possibly found this funny. He noticed my curiosity. “Lauren was right about you.”

Morgan tugged on Doyle’s restraints to make them hurt. “Shut up.”

Doyle kept laughing as Morgan pushed him towards the stairwell so that JJ could take him to the office like I had ordered. My only question, however, was, what the hell did he mean by that? Lauren was right about me? Right about what? The question lingered in my head as I sighed and moved to walk downstairs, too.

Afterwards, hours passed while we were combing through Doyle’s apartment, trying to find clues about where he must have taken Declan, as well as compiling evidence connecting him to Valhalla and Prentiss’s death. For someone in hiding, there was a lot he had with him. Usually, people in his situation would stay minimalist and wouldn’t have all of their condemning evidence in one spot, but Doyle was so cocky that he wouldn’t get caught that he didn’t bother to keep any of his current business elsewhere. There were so many guns in that one apartment that we could have started another small army. I couldn’t understand how on Earth someone would need all of that. Then again, Doyle already had a small army, and the reason they needed to smuggle all of those weapons out of the state was so that he could maintain power in Europe while he was underground. Well, looked like all of that was worthless now.

I sighed as I stepped outside of that tiny, dirty, smelly, cramped apartment for the first time in over ten hours. It really took that long. Doyle had been sitting at the office the entire time, brewing in his own thoughts, which was our strategy to break him. If he was left in darkness and silence long enough, he would open up. Hopefully. At least, Morgan and I would give it a shot when we would head back to the office. For now, we were down tearing the entire apartment to shreds. The bastard even had papers hiding behind the wallpaper.

When my phone started buzzing in my pocket, I sighed again and dug it out. “Hotchner,” I answered.

“Mmm… I could get used to that,” Hotch’s voice echoed over the phone, making me melt.

I perked up within an instant while looking down at my watch, spotting the time and how long it had been since he last called me, and how he promised he would call when he was close to landing in Virginia. Finally, I thought. “How close are you?”

“Ten, fifteen minutes.”

It was almost morning already. He was probably going to be landing just as the sun would start to peek over the tall buildings of Quantico. “I’m coming to pick you up.”

“Y/N, you should stay—”

“Nope,” I interrupted adamantly.

Hotch chuckled. “You’re really going to be a brat about this right now?”

“Mhm. You can scold me for it when you see me.”

“God, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Hey, sunshine,” Morgan said, sneaking up behind me, “you ready to go?”

“I’ll see you in a few minutes, baby,” I told Hotch. Before he could say anything in return, though, I hung up on him. I hid my grin as I buried my phone in my back pocket, then turned to face Morgan. “Can you handle the interrogation for a bit while I head to the airport?”

“He’s back already?”

“Yeah.”

Morgan nodded. “Go get him.” We smiled at each other. “No detours, though, sunshine. There and back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I responded half-heartedly while already walking away from him. “Just remember, when this is over with, you and Clooney are going home!”

----

To say I was nervous would have been a drastic understatement. I had gone four months without seeing him. Four months without his touch, his kiss, his hold, his love. A lot could change in four months. People could grow apart in four months. I was absolutely terrified that even though we called each other every day, we might not have been the same Hotchners who said goodbye to each other at the airport a few months ago. I knew that I still loved him endlessly— maybe even more now that I had been starved of him for so long. But I didn’t know what happened to him out there. I didn’t know what new experiences he had that could have possibly changed him. For all I knew, he could walk off that plane in a few minutes and walk right past me without a care. I just prayed that he was still Aaron. That the man I fell in love with would walk off that plane and know exactly how to hold me again. It was like I could already feel his touch, even though the plane’s engines hadn’t died out yet. He was so far, but he was so damn close. This was the closest we had been in four fucking months, and I was just so ready to see him already.

The plane came to a slow and steady stop on the runway. With every second that passed, I felt a growing need to throw up everywhere. He was probably sitting in there, watching me through the window, grinning ear to ear because I looked so nervous and sick. He could likely see me, yet I couldn’t see anything but the sun in my eyes. He was always an asshole, but he even had to beat me to the first look. Asshole x2.

The door of the jet popped open, and it started slowly falling down towards the concrete, the stairs on the inside making a slow appearance. I thought about what was going to happen. How was I going to react? How was he going to react? Was it better to stay where I was or was it better to meet him at the bottom of the steps? I felt like even if I wanted to move towards the plane, I wouldn’t have been able to. I was frozen in place as my mind raced with questions and endless possibilities. But there was one thing that was consistent: I was going to hold my husband in my arms, and I was going to tell him that I loved him over and over again until I passed out.

The second I saw a foot step out of the jet, I started sprinting as fast as I could without stopping to think. The rest of him emerged, and Hotch looked around for me. After spotting me from the top of the stairs, Hotch jumped down the steps, dropped his bag on the runway, and started running towards me, too. He held his arms out, an invitation for me to jump and hold him tight, so that was exactly what I did. Our bodies clashed, but he still managed to catch me, even though the force sent him stumbling back a few unwanted steps. My arms flew around his shoulders, my legs wrapped around his hips, my face buried in the crook of his neck. It didn’t matter that he smelled like sweat, sand, and cheap deodorant, because he was finally home with me and that was all that mattered. Hell, I even enjoyed the smell since it just meant that I had him in my arms again.

I squeezed him tight with my arms and legs after he nuzzled his face— beard, sunglasses, and all— into the crook of my neck. The aching in my chest, my broken heart that had been falling apart during every second that he was away from me, slowly started to mend with every breath we took together. I couldn’t tell if I wanted to cry, scream, cheer, laugh, or all of the above. Every single emotion imaginable was flooding my body and the only way I could cope with it was by nearly squeezing the life out of him while repeating: “I love you, I love you, I love you” over and over in his ear. I never wanted to stop saying it. I prayed that he would never let me go again and that we could say those three words until there was no more breath in our lungs.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” we kept whispering like we were records stuck on repeat. Fuck, I missed the way he said it to me. I missed the way he said my name and the way he called me “baby”. Nothing felt more right than how he spoke to me and how he kissed my neck in between words.

When his beard started tickling my neck, I finally paused to let out a giggle. I leaned back, his arms still around my torso to hold me for support, and I got a good look at him for the first time in months. There was no screen between us, no shitty computer cameras, no god awful Skype buffer, no speakers that cut out every other word. He looked so different than how I remembered him. His face was slimmed behind the scratchy beard he had grown, and his eyes were more sunken with exhaustion— if that were even possible. Aaron Hotchner always had dark circles under his eyes, that was no secret. Between work, the kids, and wrangling me, Hotch never had time to sleep; but Pakistan kicked his ass, and I could see it in every little detail about him.

He watched me with the brightest smile I had ever seen on his face as I brought my left hand up to his face and scratched my nails gently down his beard. “This is even hotter in person,” I smirked.

“It has to go the second I get an electric shaver,” he laughed.

My smirk fell and I pouted, “Are you sure?” He nodded. “But I have literally never wanted to fuck you harder in my entire life.”

He paused and gulped. “Okay, so maybe it can stay for a few days.”

I perked up again at my little victory and scratched it again. “Please don’t ever leave me again. Please.”

“I’d rather die than go away again.”

“Don’t be hyperbolic, Agent Hotchner.” I hit his shoulder playfully. He grinned before tightening his arms around me again to make me lean in for a kiss. I grabbed his face, the hairs on his cheeks tickling my palms as I did so, and I moaned into his mouth. “I love you so much.”

His eyes screwed shut as he slid his tongue into the kiss and claimed dominance. I missed that feeling so much. I missed how he tasted, how he smelled, how he felt, how he had to dominate me every second of every day. I missed getting lost in his eyes and staring at his lips all day until I could finally kiss them until our lips were chapped. If there weren’t a million and one things going on outside of that airport, I would have begged him to take me inside and fuck me in the bathroom. It should have been impossible to need him that much considering everything that was going on with Ian Doyle, yet there I was, only thinking about showing Aaron Hotchner how much I loved him.

Hotch pulled away from my lips, but he kept his nose pressed to mine. “Emily?”

“At home with Jessica.”

“Jack?”

“At school.”

“You?”

“The most relieved I have ever been in my life.” I leaned in and kissed him again. I thought to myself: “Please, never let this end. Let us stay trapped in each other’s arms forever. Never let us get tired of kissing each other, of holding each other, of saying ‘I love you’. Never let the desperation for passion die. Never let me miss him ever again. Keep him by my side until we die of old age. Please.”

And just like he could read my mind, Hotch loosened his hold on me ever so slightly, making me drop down to my feet, and he said, “We should get back to the office.”

I shook my head. “Just… One more minute… Please.”

“One more minute will turn into an hour at least, you know that.”

“Is that so bad?”

“No, it isn’t.” Hotch cupped my cheeks and kissed me as hard as he could. After a short minute of him kissing me like he had been starved of it for years, Hotch pushed me away. Our hands fell to our sides and I bit my lip while I tried to focus on not jumping on him again. “We have to go.”

I tried to catch my breath, my chest rising and falling at a dramatic pace. It took every ounce of strength and self-restraint I had stored away to not jump back on him and kiss him again. I felt like I was going to cry because he wasn’t in my arms again. I felt like screaming and kicking— throwing a tantrum like Jack would. I felt like at any moment, the two of us would break, and I would tackle him to the ground before showering him in kisses and pinning him down so that he couldn’t leave me again.

Hotch stumbled away from me to grab his go-bag from where he dropped it because he had the same look I had, and I knew that he was sharing the same thoughts. When he came back, he took my hand, and we walked towards the car. I started catching him up on everything we knew about the case thus far. Ian and Declan, all of Ian’s business papers that he had in his apartment. I realized then just how little we actually knew. Hopefully by the time we got back to the office, Morgan would have something out of Doyle that would help.

I drove the whole way to Quantico because he was too tired from the flight and the time zones. He had one of my hands trapped in his instead of on the steering wheel, and he kept kissing my knuckles again and again. He wasn’t listening to me. Not that I blamed him. If he wanted to just talk shop and I was sitting there, not distracted by driving, I would’ve been antsy to shower him in love, too. But Morgan said no detours. As much as it pained me, he was right that there really wasn’t any time to drive home, or even pull to the side of the road to fuck Hotch. I really, really wanted to, though; so, I figured the longer I distracted myself with work, the better off we would be. After this, though… Once this was all resolved… I wasn’t letting him go.

At the office, Hotch and I headed up to the sixth floor, somehow managing to go that entire time without touching each other. I wanted to kiss him again. I wanted to hold him again. While we were standing in the elevator, I stared at him and thought about pushing him against the wall, but it wasn’t worth it right now. I hated this inner battle I was having to fight between wanting him all to myself in that very moment and just focusing wholeheartedly on the case. The worst thought hit me suddenly… Maybe it would have been better if he didn’t come back so soon… I mean, he was just so distracting, I felt like I couldn’t celebrate this win as much as I should’ve been.

And then we stepped onto the floor.

“Hey.” Hotch grabbed my hand, tugging me back a few steps towards him. “You trust me, right?”

I furrowed my brows as I turned to face him. Of course I trusted him. Why wouldn’t I? He was my husband, and we made a promise to each other a long time ago to not keep any secrets from one another. I had no reason to doubt him. I wouldn’t have met him at the airport like that if I didn’t trust and love him wholeheartedly.

“You know that I do everything for a reason?”

What was he on about? Was there something I missed between meeting him at the airport and walking into the building with him? Why was he suddenly acting so weird?

I put my hands on his biceps. “Listen. I know that you told me you were in an all guys unit. If there’s something you want to say about it, I’m all ears. And I’m going to support you no matter what.” I bit back a smile.

Hotch cracked a smile. “No,” he shook his head, “that’s not what I mean.”

“Phew.” I rolled my eyes playfully. “I thought I was going to have to give you the birds and the bees talk, and how love is love—”

“Shut up.” He laughed before kissing me.

I pushed him back gently. “I’m just saying, if you’re going to cheat on me, it should at least be with a guy so that you get to experiment a bit.” I patted his chest.

He was still laughing quietly. “What am I going to do with you, Agent Hotchner?”

“I don’t know, Agent Hotchner,” I responded as I let him pull me back in for another kiss. “I’m sure you’ll think of something before we get home after this case, though.” I pecked his lips again, then escaped into the board room.

Everyone was standing behind the round table, huddled together as they discussed something about the case. It seemed as though Morgan had just finished his first attempt at getting information out of Doyle, to no avail. They were discussing how he was going to approach the second try, but no one’s ideas seemed to stick since Morgan had an excuse for why none of it would work. It was like we had hit a dead end, even though Doyle was the end, technically. He was the one who took Declan, and he was the one who took our sister from us. Prentiss was dead because of him, and we weren’t going to let him get away this time.

When Hotch walked into the room, everyone fell silent and turned to get a look at him. Hotch really didn’t seem to care about our no PDA at work rule now, because as everyone’s eyes lingered on him and his beard, Hotch came over to me, took my hand in his, and kissed my cheek. A lot changed for him in the Middle East, I guess. He missed me and he didn’t care what rules we had. He wanted to just have me around all the time, and I couldn’t blame him. But, technically, I was still the unit chief until Hotch could officially come back, and I couldn’t let us break the rules. Now I understood why Hotch was always so adamant about me behaving while at work. It was excruciatingly painful to not touch and kiss him just because I was the boss and had to set an example.

I moved away from Hotch, taking my seat at the round table. Everyone followed my lead warily, their eyes still trained on Hotch. Him and JJ didn’t sit, though. They were the only ones who stayed on their feet at the front of the room. Hotch had his arms crossed, a frown hiding under his facial hair, his eyes wandering around the room as he thought nervously about something. This had to do with him asking about my trust, but I didn’t understand how. Him worrying about something and not telling me almost immediately was only making me worry, too. He needed to spit it out fast or I would go insane.

“Everything alright, Hotch?” Morgan asked, also taking notice of Hotch’s clear unease.

Hotch didn’t nod or give any kind of reassurance that everything was alright. Instead, he shifted his weight on the balls of his feet— a silent tell that something was definitely wrong. He kept his head down now, only glancing up through his lashes occasionally to look at me. A thought struck me that maybe my joke wasn’t really a joke in the hallway. Four months was a long time to go without me, and it probably didn’t help that all he got was shitty phone sex. Maybe he really did change out there in the desert. Maybe he was showering me in love because he was going to drop a huge ass bomb that said: “I’m leaving you” or “I’m quitting the BAU and running away forever” or “I’m taking the kids and you’ll never see them again.” Every shit scenario possible was racing through my head. Like I said, if he wasn’t going to spit it out soon, I was going to start screaming for answers.

“Nine months ago,” Hotch began, “I made a decision that affected this team. As you all know, Prentiss lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. We told you that she succumbed to her wounds…” He hesitated a beat. “That’s not really the case.”

Shock filled the room as it dawned on each of us what Hotch was really saying. I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions because I really, really didn’t want to get my hopes up… but it sounded like he was telling us that Prentiss was alive. That over the past seven months, we have been led to believe that she died in that hospital.

“The truth is, the doctors were able to stabilize her, and she was airlifted to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration.”

My shoulders fell. So, it was true. Emily Prentiss was alive. The woman we mourned the loss of for seven months was… still around all along? That was why Hotch asked if I trusted him. That was why he was being so handsy. He knew that I hated it when he kept things from me. He knew that I hated it when he would betray my trust like this. I yelled at him for weeks the last time he did it— which was our suspension over two years ago. He was asking about trust and touching me as often as he could because he didn’t know if this admission of the truth was going to break us apart. This wasn’t like him lying and going to ask for a transfer out of the BAU. This wasn’t like him lying to me about his health. This was Emily Prentiss. This was our sister we lost in the field. We buried her. Why did Hotch… What… I— My thoughts were too scrambled to form another cohesive thought other than: “How could he do this to us?”

“After she got better, she was reassigned to Paris, where she was given multiple fake identities so that she could be safe,” Hotch continued.

“She’s alive?” Spencer finally asked the clarifying question we were all dying to know the answer to.

Hotch nodded shortly, keeping his eyes lowered. He wasn’t even looking at me now because of the shame and guilt he likely felt.

“But we buried her,” Spencer croaked.

Hotch nodded again. “If anyone has any issues with the executive decision that I made, then they can take it up with me.”

“Issues?” Morgan asked angrily. “Issues, Hotch? Yeah, I’ve got a few issues, but why don’t you start with the fact that you let your own wife believe that Emily was dead and let them name your daughter after her because of it, hmm? Don’t you think that you owe Y/N an explanation?”

“Morgan,” I hissed quietly. It was neither the time nor the place to discuss my daughter. I had a few choice words for Hotch running through my head, but I fully intended on keeping them to myself until Hotch and I could speak privately.

“Emily’s alive, Y/N. How are you going to explain that to your daughter as she grows up?”

“Stop it,” I demanded more harshly.

There wasn’t anything Morgan could say to me that I didn’t already know. Hotch had betrayed everything we believed in and promised each other. He had told me countless times since meeting me that he would never lie to me, and every time he ended up breaking that promise, he would tell me that it wouldn’t happen again. But there we were. Another promise broken. Even worse, though, was the fact that he made a vow to me on our wedding day that he would always be honest with me. Always. And yet he kept this a secret from me. Did he not trust that I could have kept it a secret? Morgan was right, I was owed an explanation. Hotch kept this from me, his wife for nine months. What else was he hiding? How was I ever supposed to trust him again?

I stood from my seat and turned for the door. No one said anything as I took a step but came to a sudden halt when I discovered that my path was blocked by someone in my way. I felt like I was going to pass out. There was she was: Emily Prentiss… standing right in front of me. Back from the dead.

She let out a sigh of regret, but also relief, when our eyes met. She looked sorry about how all of this happened. And she should have been. Morgan sat on our couch for months, crying because he missed her so much. I named my daughter after her because I missed her so much and I wanted her memory to be remembered. What was it all for, though, now that was standing there? What was the point now? Morgan was right to be vocally angry because he knew that I couldn’t. But as mad as I was at Hotch, I felt an overwhelming need to hug her. I crashed into her. I didn’t hesitate. Nine months without her. Nine fucking months.

Emily caught me as I embraced her as tightly as I could. She rubbed small circles on my back as she held me close. “I am so sorry, Y/N.”

I sniffled into her shoulder while I hugged her tighter. She was there. Like, really there. I wasn’t dreaming or hoping anymore. It was her. Our family was back. And I was just so relieved. I couldn’t even be mad at her. But I could tell as I pulled away from Emily and turned to look at the room with her that Morgan was pissed beyond compare. Everyone was crying because they were so grateful for the fact that she was still alive. However, Morgan wasn’t. He was standing there, pouting with disbelief, his hands curled into shaky fists that were holding in all of his anger.

She carefully let go of me and approached Morgan. “Derek, you have to believe me when I tell you that not a day went by where I didn’t think about you guys and how sorry I am that things turned out this way. You didn’t deserve that.”

“I didn’t deserve to know that you were alive?” he questioned through gritted teeth.

“You didn’t deserve to hold a dying friend in your arms.” Prentiss extended her arms for another hug, a silent offer for him, which he took slowly, as if he were afraid that he would fall right through her like she was some kind of ghost. When they embraced, however, I saw Morgan’s anger wash away. Now, he was just broken. “I’m so sorry.” He squeezed her waist as tight as he could for as long as he could before she tapped out and parted from him. She turned to face me again. “I want to meet baby Emily, if you’ll let me, once this is all over.”

I nodded, still too hesitant to say anything.

She smiled. “Okay… For now, I just want to focus on finding Declan and bringing him home safe. What do you guys know so far?”

Reid immediately jumped to his feet like this was his moment to shine, and he started asking her questions about Declan, Ian, and Louise, but I couldn’t hear anything. Everything seemed so washed out and distant. The only thing that was clear to me was the shame on my husband’s face as I stood there, staring at him, silently letting him know just how badly he had fucked up this time around. He could hardly look me in the eyes.

“Can I see you in my office?” he asked.

Everyone watched us silently, wondering if I would correct him on the fact that it was my office now. Or maybe they were waiting with anticipation to see if I was going to blow him off considering I had been glaring at him the entire time since I found out that Prentiss was alive this whole time—and he knew! But that was exactly why I indulged him. I didn’t correct him, I didn’t argue with him, I didn’t embarrass him. I simply followed him to his office.

I sat in my chair at my desk, which all used to be his before he left. He sat down across from me in one of the seats I would sit in whenever I was called to meet with him in his office. He seemed so out of his element in that chair, and, honestly, I was glad. I wanted him to be uncomfortable. I wanted him to be physically and emotionally uneasy because that was how I felt every day while he was away, and that was how I felt since finding out that our daughter’s namesake was actually alive and well.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” I inquired, reclining back. He shook his head. “You were going to just let me think that she was dead in order to, what, make me feel better about naming our daughter after her? Why didn’t you try to stop me—”

“I did try. I asked you if there were really no other names you could think of, but you were so adamant about it and I couldn’t tell you the truth; so, I just had to let it happen.”

“Is that why you left?”

Hotch froze for a moment while searching my eyes, and before he even began nodding, I knew the answer. He sighed. “It was hard to keep lying to everyone, but it felt impossible to keep lying to you specifically, especially since you took Emily’s death so hard… So, I just… I ran.”

“So, you would have stayed if I knew the truth?”

“Yes.”

I scoffed and let out an exasperated chuckle.

“Baby, I am so sorry, you have to believe me. I wish things hadn’t happened the way they did.”

“Yeah, well, you had a choice in that, didn’t you?”

“Y/N, that’s not fair. I was just trying to protect her—"

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, proceeded by Garcia cautiously stepping into the office. “Sorry, ma’am, but I found something.”

I nodded her over, holding my hand out for the file of information she put together. Hotch eyed me. Usually, it was him sitting in my current seat, ignoring me in his seat as he accepted another file from Garcia who had addressed him in the first place. Everything felt so backwards. But, then again, maybe that was what he deserved now that I knew that he had been lying to me this entire time.

“I was narrowing down a list of Doyle’s top ten enemies from what we know and what Morgan’s getting out of him. The only one who’s been in the states recently is Mr. Richard Gerace. He’s been here for the past two weeks with a work visa.”

“Is there any way to connect him to this?” I asked while flipping through the file.

“The guy who cut off the camera feed at Declan’s house had a scar on his neck...” She turned the next page for me and pointed to a mugshot of Gerace. He had the same exact scar on his neck, meaning it was definitely him who took Declan.

“Get me everything you can on him, please, Penelope,” I said while closing the file and setting it down on my desk. She hesitated. “What is it?”

“That’s everything I have.”

I sighed. “Can you call Prentiss in, please?”

“Sure…”

“Thank you.”

When she left, I sighed and looked at Hotch again. Neither of us said anything as we stared at each other uncomfortably, a barrier of trust broken between us now. I didn’t like it when he lied to me. Every time I told him not to lie to me, he promised he wouldn’t, and then he would, and I would be mad for a few days before forgiving him and moving on. How much longer was I supposed to put up with it? I couldn’t even count how many times he lied to me on my fingers anymore. Meanwhile, I could count the number of times I lied to him on one hand. At some point, enough was going to be enough, and if he wasn’t careful, it was going to be soon. As much as I loved him, I couldn’t keep living with the lies. What was more important to him? Me or protecting his secrets? If the answer wasn’t immediately me, then there was an entirely different conversation we needed to have at some point that included what our future was going to look like.

“We’re going to talk later,” I finally told him.

As we were coming back to the office together, Hotch stopped to ask if I trusted him, and at the time, of course I did… But now? I wasn’t so sure. Then again, I’d said that a dozen times before when he pulled this shit. The worst part was, that I knew that I was going to end up crawling back to him, and it was going to be an excuse for him to lie to me all over again.

Hotch nodded. “Yeah…”

There was another knock at the door, this time from Prentiss, who seemed too shy to invite herself in, even though I had requested her presence. I waved her in.

“Gerace,” I said, holding the file out for her. She slowly walked over and accepted it. “Garcia thinks that he’s the one who took Declan.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” she insisted before even looking at the file. I waited for her to explain why she thought that. “Gerace gave up on Doyle a long time ago, and he’s too much of a coward to pull something like this off. Not to mention how meticulous the abduction was. Gerace doesn’t have that level of patience and organization.”

I scoffed and wiped my palms over my face. “He was our only suspect and lead.”

“I mean…” She flipped through the file. “That’s definitely Gerace’s scar… So, I suppose he had something to do with it, but I wouldn’t say he’s solely responsible. If he’s working with a partner, he’s definitely the submissive.” She flipped another page. “Hold on—” I looked up at her. “Look at this.” She turned the file to show me one of the shots from the security footage of Gerace turning the cameras off. “Look in the background.” There was a woman standing there, watching Gerace while cocking a gun at her side. Prentiss’s jaw dropped as a realization dawned on her. “This might have something to do with Declan’s birth mother, considering the overkill towards Louise, who was Declan’s mother figure throughout his entire life.”

“Do you know who she is?”

She shook her head. “No. Doyle never told me.”

“Would you be willing to go in and get the information out of him now?”

She looked between me and Hotch, almost as if she were waiting for permission from him, but then she recalled that I was calling the shots right now until Hotch could be reinstated into the unit by Strauss and Cody. She finally gave in. “I don’t mind giving it a shot.”

Since Prentiss was still just a visitor, she couldn’t technically be allowed to wander the floor on her own. Even though she knew exactly where the interrogation room was and how to get there the fastest, I still had to usher her there. So, without saying anything to Hotch, I started walking out. Prentiss watched him silently for a moment before deciding to follow me.

“You know,” she said while catching up to me on the ramp outside of my office, “unit chief suits you.”

“It won’t last long. It’s just until Hotch can come back.”

We continued on towards the interrogation room in silence. When we stepped into the mirror room, I saw that Morgan and JJ were there, watching Doyle who was sitting on his own, staring at the wall while he silently thought and worried about his missing son. With others around to “officially” watch Prentiss, I took my leave almost immediately, heading back to my office so that I could sit down, catch my breath, and have a moment to think.

When I got there, Hotch was already gone. I glanced across the bullpen to see that he was in the boardroom with Rossi, Reid, and Garcia, all of them working on finding who Declan’s mother was in case that was the next fresh lead we would get from Doyle. They were fine on their own. For just a few minutes, I could disappear, and no one would notice. So, I closed the door, spun the dial of the blinds until they were shut tight, and I immediately broke down. I didn’t even make it to my chair or the couch. I just fell right then and there.

I started crying with my face hiding in my hands. Getting Hotch back should have been the best thing in the world, and yet it felt so shitty. I hated that he lied to me again. I hated that things went down like that. I hated that our daughter was mixed up in the drama of it all now just because of her name. I hated that I was mad at the love of my life after just getting him back, because instead of wanting to hold him close until our last breath, I wanted to kick his ankles until my anger was gone—If my anger would ever go away.

And then there was a knock at the door.

I tried catching my breath and calming down enough to wipe my tears away, but the door opened before I could collect myself entirely. I hid my face in the shadows. It didn’t matter who it was because I was just hoping that they would leave me alone now that they saw me collapsed on the floor and hiding my face while sniffling.

“Sunshine?”

I let out a choked sob when I realized that it was Morgan who had followed me from the mirror room to my office. “What?”

He knelt beside me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Come here…” He turned me slightly until I was facing him, and we immediately pulled each other in for a tight hug. I hid my face in his shirt, letting my tears soak the fabric without care. “It’s okay. I promise. Just breathe.” He rubbed circles on my back to help me calm down slowly.

I started to catch my breath by sucking in deep breaths and letting out short ones. “You shouldn’t have brought up Emily earlier,” I whispered.

He had been completely out of line when he brought up my daughter in the context of Prentiss still being alive. That was a conversation for me and my husband to have at a later time when we could talk privately. It didn’t give him permission to put our predicament on blast. I was sure that everyone had been thinking it, too. I mean, they were all probably wondering the same thing I was, which was what the hell were Hotch and I going to do now that Prentiss, our daughter’s namesake was back? But, honestly, it was none of their business. Yes, Morgan was her godfather, but he wasn’t her father, therefore, he had no say. He would be the first to know when a decision would be made, of course, but not before then.

I slid out of his arms and fell back against the wall carefully to just sit there and stare into the darkness. “It wasn’t fair,” I continued.

“I’m sorry, cupcake…” He slid down the wall to sit beside me, then took one of my cold hands in his. “My emotions have just been all over the place, and I snapped when I didn’t mean to. I know that’s not an excuse, but…” He sighed.

“I get it.” I rested my head on his shoulder. Of all people, I understood the most how Morgan felt.

“Did you talk to him?”

“Kind of…”

“Are you going to forgive him?”

“Unfortunately.”

Morgan swung his arm around me so that he could hug me close to his side. “Do you ever just miss the old days when things were so simple? Gideon and Elle were still on the team. Pretty boy was still dorky and quiet all the time. Hotch actually talked to us and trusted us.”

“You mean talked to you and trusted you.” I chuckled. “He didn’t talk to me when I first joined the team.”

“Yeah, because he had a schoolgirl crush on you. That doesn’t mean he didn’t trust you. But wasn’t it so much easier back then when you two weren’t together, and everything was just about putting the back guys away, and nothing was ever personal…” He sighed. “I think we just haven’t been the same ever since the Fisher King.”

He was right. That was the first case where we were all effected personally, and an Unsub got under our skin, and tore our family apart. I mean, I assumed that it was because of Randall Garner that my sister left the BAU. If we had never gotten mixed up in that case, maybe she and Gideon would still be around. But then again, if that were the case, then we wouldn’t’ve had Rossi or Emily on the team, and I was genuinely happy that I knew them and that they were apart of our family now. Rossi was Hotch’s best friend who liked to help me pick on him from time to time. Emily was one of my closest friends… At least before she left. I didn’t know where we stood now. That was what Morgan meant by things being easier back in the day, though, I supposed. Things weren’t so messy.

“I think you’re right,” I agreed quietly.

----

Not even an hour later, Prentiss had already convinced Doyle to tell us who the mother of his child was and how to find her. With Garcia’s help, we managed to track her down. Her name was Chloe Donaghy, and she was a notorious crime lord who ran a human trafficking and prostitution ring. She and Ian had met about eight years before Prentiss met him. When she found out that she was pregnant with Declan, she tried to kill herself to make sure that his son would never be born, but Doyle stopped her before she could even swallow a single pill, and from that point on during the pregnancy, she was his prisoner. He kept her locked away. She was chained to a bed in a locked room in his heavily guarded home for seven months straight. She was given a healthy diet for herself and the baby, and Doyle had a doctor go to check on her every other week or so to make sure that they were still okay. Once she had the baby, however, she left. She wanted nothing to do with Declan, and everyone knew it, so Doyle practically paid her to stay away and to never tell a soul about their son.

However, once she found out that Ian was a wanted man and was in hiding, she decided that she wanted a piece of him in the name of revenge. So, she got the same idea as us. Knowing that Ian would try to find Declan, she waited until someone found him first—which happened to be us—and once she knew where her son was, she jumped at the opportunity to take him when everyone was too distracted to notice. We managed to track her down to Baltimore. It looked like she and Gerace took Declan down there, and they were planning on selling him to another one of Doyle’s enemies, a man by the name of Lachlan. That wasn’t good. If Declan left U.S. soil, there was nothing we could do. It would be left up to the CIA or another agency similar to them, but they wouldn’t care. So, I made a call.

I decided that the best way to ensure that little boy would never die at the hands of a revenge driven monster like Lachlan was to have our team pursue this. I knew the risks involved with the choice. I knew that my career was on the line, and that I would inevitably be demoted as unit chief—if I were lucky. Worst case scenario, actually, was that I would be fired. But I didn’t care in the moment, because all I could think about was the fact that there was a little boy out there, wondering why his own mother was doing this, and why he was facing danger again. And then I thought about Jack. Declan was around Jack’s age. I couldn’t bear to think that it could have been Jack in Declan’s shoes, and that if that were the case, I would want someone to fight for him until he was safe at home.

So, I made the call to use Doyle as a pawn in our game. We loaded Doyle into an SUV with myself, Hotch, and Morgan, and we drove down to the airstrip where Garcia found out that Chloe and Lachlan were catching a flight at together. Emily was against the idea. She was concerned that Doyle was going to get away, or that Chloe was going to get Declan and Ian, and all of this was for nothing. I wasn’t going to let that happen. We were going to get Declan back, and we weren’t going to let Doyle get away. After everything that happened over the past few months, I was going to die before fucking this up.

“You wanna do it, or should I?” Hotch asked as we pulled up to the jet on the runway. I gestured that he could go for it, but I didn’t look at him or say anything in response. I still wasn’t ready to do that much. “Okay.” Morgan handed him the megaphone, and Hotch stepped out of the car to announce, “Lachlan McDermott and Cloe Donaghy, this is the FBI. We know that you have Declan Doyle. To ensure his safety, we would like to make a trade. Declan for Ian Doyle.”

That was our cue to show off Doyle to the world, so Morgan and I pulled him out of the car, making sure that our grip on him was strong enough that he couldn’t wiggle out. And then we heard a gunshot, and I saw a muzzle flash from within the jet. No. No, no, no. There was no way they just killed Declan. I refused to believe it, but just in case it was true, we kept Doyle close to the car so that we could stuff him back in and drive off if we had to.

Suddenly, the door of the jet started falling open, revealing the steps that Lachlan started storming down with Declan in front of him. I let out a quiet sigh of relief at the same time as Ian. It didn’t last long, however, since Lachlan immediately put a gun to Declan’s head.

“Bring him here!” Lachlan demanded, referencing Doyle.

Hotch looked over at me. “You’re still the unit chief. It’s your call.”

I sighed quietly while trying to quickly weigh the pros and cons. It certainly wasn’t ideal to put Doyle in Lachlan’s line of fire, but if it was the only way to get Declan…

“Now!” Lachlan yelled.

Within an instant, I was pushing forward, Morgan following lead by helping me move Doyle towards Lachlan. When we were close enough, we pushed him onto his knees and waited for something to happen. Lachlan smiled wickedly. He said something to Doyle, but I wasn’t listening while my attention was trained on Declan and trying to figure out how I was going to grab him on time while Morgan made sure he still had a grip on Doyle. I just had to trust the process, I supposed.

When I heard movement from the jet again, I looked up to see Chloe limping out, holding her stomach from the shot she took from Lachlan. They must have argued about taking our deal. Before I could tell her to stay back, though, I saw how she was raising her arm and aiming at me, Ian, and Morgan.

“Gun!” Morgan shouted, tackling me out of the way just as the sound of a gunshot rang through the air. I groaned as the wind was knocked out of me. Morgan rolled off me to check to see if I was okay. “Are you hit?” I shook my head. “Doyle—” He spun around on his knees to see Ian falling to the ground while holding his bleeding neck. “Shit.”

Another gunshot fired, this time from Chloe aiming directly at Lachlan, instantly killing him. In retaliation, Hotch, Reid, Prentiss, and JJ all shot down Chloe as fast as they could. Hotch ran over to me, putting his hands on my cheeks while scanning my body with my eyes to make sure that I was alright, the same way Morgan had. I inhaled sharply as I caught my breath. I got that Morgan was just trying to protect me, but did he have to go all high school footballer on me? Fucking hell. We were on concrete. The tackle was worse than getting shot, in my opinion.

“Next time, I make the call. And it won’t be this one,” Hotch whispered to me, brushing my hair out of my face.

“Ha. Ha,” I responded sarcastically. “Help me up.” We clasped our hands together, and he pulled me to my feet, letting me stumble into his chest somewhat before I caught my balance. “Thanks.” I patted his chest. “This is why you’re the unit chief.”

He kissed my forehead. “You thought you were doing the right thing, and that’s all we can ever do.”

I glanced over to Doyle who was reaching out for his son, knowing that it would be the last time. A part of me broke somewhat. As much as I despised Doyle, I had nothing against his son, and seeing a bond between a father and his son, even though they hardly knew each other at all, made me think about Hotch and Jack. It could have been Hotch instead of Haley who died in our house two years ago. We were beyond lucky that he was still with us. That I had a husband who loved me, that our daughter had a father who wanted nothing more than to raise her away from all of this chaos, that our son still had a father who would protect him no matter the cost. We were, by some definition, “lucky” that it wasn’t Hotch and Jack there instead of Ian and Declan.

----

By the time we cleaned up the mess at the airstrip, I had called Jessica and asked if she could bring Emily to the office to surprise Hotch, but also because Prentiss asked if she could meet her, and I felt like after the long day we had, we all deserved that. I mean, she was our little sunshine. If anyone could change the mood entirely, it was her.

So, when we all returned to Quantico, I told security to keep an out for Jessica and the baby—to which they all cheered about how excited they were to see her. The team went up to the boardroom to start tearing down all of the photos and evidence on the walls. Another chapter of our lives closed. Over months, we had been working on a case where we only had a fraction of the pieces. The only person who knew every part of it and could end this once and for all had left, but when she came back, it ended, and now we could just breathe again. We had our family back. That had to count for something.

When I saw Jessica arrive in the elevator, I met her there so that I could still surprise Hotch and Prentiss. “Thank you for bringing her,” I said while crouching down in front of the stroller to see my lil’ bug. She was half awake, but just lucid enough to play with my finger as I wiggled it in her face. “I owe you.”

“It’s no big deal, I swear. I was on my way to pick up Jack from a playdate, and this was on the way, anyhow.”

I glanced up at Jessica. “We can pick him up later. You don’t have to race around for us like this.”

Jessica smiled lightly. “What else am I going to do?”

I stopped to think about that for a moment, considering how we were her only family around now that Haley was gone, and Roy was… Well, Roy didn’t like having Jessica around because she was a very hands-on and task-oriented person when it came to family, and he didn’t like how overbearing and protective she was of him. So, we were the only ones that were around and in need of help. I just felt bad sometimes because it felt like she was our nanny or something. Then again, every time this conversation came up where I would tell her that all of this was unnecessary and that I felt bad, she would always argue that she loved doing it and that it was no big deal. If it really were a problem, she would have ditched us months ago.

“Okay,” I gave in. “We’ll see you at home, then.” I stood to hug her.

“See you at home.”

When we parted, she leaned over to say goodbye to baby Emily quickly, then waved to me as she walked towards the elevator. I waved back shortly before pushing the stroller up the ramp towards the boardroom. Inside, I could see and hear everyone chatting and catching up with one another. Rossi was hogging Aaron. He was so happy to have his buddy back after all this time, but he was still trying to convince him to shave the beard. Over my dead body. I loved that beard, and after everything that man put me through today, I was going to get the chance to scratch my fingers through it as he fucked me. Come hell or high water, I was going to make that happen.

I pushed the stroller into the room, and everyone fell silent. This was the first time Hotch had seen her in… months, and this was the first time Prentiss was going to meet her. Everyone wanted to be witness to it, and no one wanted to disrupt the moment. So, when I spun the stroller around, everyone held their breaths. I tried to ignore them as I pulled the top of stroller back to reveal Emily.

“May I hold her?” Prentiss asked, looking up at me with the brightest smile I had ever seen from her before. I nodded. Prentiss reached into the stroller, buried her hands under Emily, and lifted her up. “Hi, there, baby girl…” Prentiss cooed. Emily kicked and fussed in Prentiss’s arms.

As I watched Prentiss rock Emily side to side in her arms, I felt someone’s arms snake around my waist and pull me backwards into a hug. I smiled and rested my head on Hotch’s shoulder. His beard scratched my cheek slightly as he pressed a gentle kiss against it. I giggled and nuzzled into his touch as much as I could while thinking about how I missed this feeling so bad every single second he was away from me. All those rules we had for so long before he left didn't matter anymore. Not when he had been away and all we wanted was to hold each other and love each other.

“She has your eyes, Hotch,” Prentiss said while Emily giggled. “Yes, you do,” Prentiss teased with the same kind of baby-talk voice everyone used around kids. “You are just too darn cute.”

“I missed you so much,” he whispered in my ear before kissing me.

“I’m still mad at you, Aaron,” I whispered only for him to hear. He loosened his grip on me somewhat. “And I don’t know when I’ll stop being mad.” He hid his face in the crook of my neck to hide his disappointment from everyone else. “But I know that I love you, and that, with time, I’ll learn to forgive and forget about this. Until then, I just need you to bear with me while I navigate rebuilding what trust I had given you, and asking you to give me answers, or asking that you give me some space—whatever it is, I just need you to understand. Can you do that?”

He nodded against me.

“We’re going to be okay,” I sighed, almost like I was trying to convince myself, too. “We’re going to be okay…”

-----

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

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine

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unwillingadventurer · 4 years ago

Text

Wrote a little Graham and Ian fic set after the most recent Doctor Who episode. Although you can read this independently, we did write a few other Graham and Ian meeting up stories:

The Waiting Room

Memory Lane

Another meet up

...

Wrapping his scarf around his neck and looking in the mirror, Graham O’Brien took a deep breath and glanced at himself, keeping straight and proud, more confident in himself than in recent times. From the corner of his eye, he swore he just saw a glimpse of her—his Grace—ever so slightly faded. But she was there and she was smiling. He couldn’t help but smile back.

Looking in his own bedroom mirror, Ian Chesterton sighed as he glanced at his own lined face and then at the empty bed behind. It’d been years now and each morning brought the same feeling of loss. For a moment he could imagine she was in the kitchen, cooking him bacon and eggs whilst doing the crossword. Then, for the briefest of moments, he saw her—his Barbara—ever so slightly hazy, standing by the bedside table. She was watching him as she used to. He turned to face her but she was simply a ghost-like memory.

…

“Ian, mate, how the hell are ya?” Graham said the next weekend as he stepped off the train and was greeted at the station by Ian.

“Bitterly cold isn’t it?” Ian said, removing a thick woollen glove to shake hands with Graham.

“Yeah, perhaps it was a bad idea to meet when it’s so nippy. You alright in this cold?”

“Oh, I’ve survived much colder than this.”

“With the Doctor?”

“How’d you guess?” There was a smile on Ian’s face and he fell silent for a moment. “Barbara and I were nearly shall I say… frozen to death.”

“And that makes you smile?”

“More that we survived!”

Graham chuckled. “Well come on, mate, let’s get out of this cold, get a bit of grub and a cuppa. You had breakfast?”

“Not touched a fry up since Barbara’s been gone.”

“Fancy trying it now, there’s a greasy spoon down the next street if I remember this area correctly?”

“I’d like that very much and you can tell me what’s been going on.”

…

As the waitress in the cafe placed down two plates of full English breakfast, Graham licked his lips in anticipation. “Have a butchers’ at that, me old son, cor this’ll warm your cockles.”

“There’s a lot of it,” Ian said, noting how Barbara would’ve cooked much less. “She’d be asking me to watch my cholesterol.”

“Alright for a cheeky treat though eh?” he said through a mouthful of sausage dipped in egg yolk.

Ian took a sip of his tea and waited for Graham to finish the bite. “So, you have news? When I got your call, I worried something might have happened to Ryan or the Doctor or that lovely young lady.”

“Ah no, we’re all alive and kicking, alright, you know? It’s just Ryan and I have left the TARDIS. We thought the Doc was gone for a while and then she comes back and off we go to another adventure. But when she asked us to stay, Ryan and me, well we made other plans.”

“You’d had enough?”

“Ah, I don’t know. Always the way though, glad I left and regretting it at the same time. You get like that?”

“I did at first but the desire to see home was far too strong for us. And remember back then we couldn’t get home at all. We didn’t have the choice.”

“Blimey, yeah, that is tricky. I just thought like what with you being a man who’s been in my position, that you’d know how I feel.”

Ian smiled. “First we bond over our much-missed wives and now…over leaving the adventure behind.”

“And the Doctor.”

“Him too. Of course, there’s adventure in Earth life too but adjustments are always difficult.”

“Yeah, me and Ryan figured there’s always something on Earth to fix. I’m so glad he’s here, not sure I could do it alone.”

“The person you shared it with is by your side that’s a wonderful thing. There’s not too many people who’ve experienced the highs and lows of a life with the Doctor as we have.”

“We’re privileged,” Graham said. “I can honestly say I’ve seen the best of people. My mate Yaz, the Doctor brought out the best in her. She does for all of us.”

“I know what you mean. But with the best of things, there was the worst I’ve ever experienced too.”

“Yeah, saw some terrible things that shake me to my bones.” Graham sniffed. “Look at us having a therapy session again. Wonder if all the Doc’s other travelling companions feel like this?”

“Oh, I expect so.”

“You ever met any of them, well except me?”

“Yes a few over the years, difficult to remember how and when and where. When you get to my age you lose track.”

“Get out of it, you’re a whippersnapper, well at least compared to the Doctor.”

Ian laughed.

“Anyway, if there are loads of us roaming about Earth and the universe, maybe we could sort of hook-up, you know, in the non-kinky sense and have a chin-wag about putting up with the Doc.”

“Like a sort of companion care support group?”

“Yeah, I mean, we’re not saying we need therapy or nothing and we won’t talk about our childhood traumas and all that but just have a laugh and share stories with each other. And make fun of the Doc, compare them to each other like rate-a-Doc.dot com.”

“At least you can call him Doc, we were forbidden.”

“There you go, already comparing… and she’s a she now.”

Ian grinned. “Of course, I apologise. My Doctor had his irascible moments but on the whole I’d like to leave a positive review of him.”

“Alright, no one star reviews allowed.”

They both laughed and leaned back in their chairs, memories flooding into their minds, Graham’s from the recent years and Ian’s from so long ago.

“Now, the question is, how do we find these previous mates of the Doc?”

“I have contacts and numbers if that helps.”

Graham whistled. “’Ark at you. Know people in high places do ya?”

“Oh, I knew the fellows at UNIT. The Brigadier was a wonderful man, passed away a while back now but through him we met a fair few people connected to the Doctor. And Torchwood paid us a visit when we got home in 1965 but I’m not supposed to talk about that. I also skype with Jo and her husband Cliff but they’re usually off on their travels. I knew Clara for a while but I’m not sure of her now but It’s one big family when you think about it, even though one half of us doesn’t know the other exists. It helps sometimes when I miss Barbara and feel so alone.”

Graham patted him on the shoulder and pointed at Ian’s plate. “Don’t forget your hash browns. You got to eat your grub me old mucker, we’ve got work to do. You’re stuck with me now. Us companions of the Doctor are a fam and we look out for each other.”

Ian reached across the table and placed his hand on top of Graham’s, patting it lightly.

“See and now your hands are warm.”

#fic #doctor who #classic who #graham o'brien #ian chesterton #just like writing these two <3

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supercalvin · 4 years ago

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I love all your ficlets and stories! It honestly makes me very happy reading what you wrote. Was wondering for a prompt if you can do Immortal Merlin fighting for queer rights. Not really a set period i had in mind i just always imagined Merlin would be front row to a lot of the protest and riots. Arthur and or leon could be there to!! I like imagining leon is also immortal and hangs with merlin every other century. Thank you for the amazing stories!!

Whoops it’s been a hot minute since I got this prompt. A lot has happened since I wrote this, so first of all, Happy Pride! Second of all, with all the riots (the heart of which are happening literally just down the street from me) I wanted to say that black trans women were the heart and soul of the queer movement in the U.S. so therefore: Black Lives Matter, Queer Power, and Trans Rights. Hell yeah.

CW/TW: Mentions of the AIDS Crisis

Prompts + Ficlets

***

“You’ll be alright on your own?” Merlin had asked for what had felt like the hundredth time.

Arthur had wanted to be insulted that Merlin thought so little of him, but to be fair, Merlin had had to teach him the ways of the modern world. And although Arthur had been back for almost a year now, Merlin hadn’t left his side for more than a few hours since he had emerged from the lake.

Magic wasn’t as common in the world as it had once been, but over the years Merlin had created a network of magical people. He taught them what he knew and put them in contact with each other. Merlin had gotten a call from one pupil who had accidentally cursed themselves while practicing and had called Merlin in a panic.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Go!” Arthur had said, ushering Merlin out the door.

“It should only take a couple days at most,” Merlin said, looking like he would rather not leave Arthur alone. “I could call Leon.”

“Don’t be absurd. Leon is a ten-hour flight away. By the time he gets here, you’ll be back.” Arthur had rolled his eyes, “I’ll be glad for some peace and quiet for once. Go.”

Now, it was the evening of the second day, and Merlin had called him to let him know he would be back tomorrow morning. Arthur hadn’t been worried, but Merlin seemed relieved that everything was still the same back in their London apartment.

Arthur had found that the problem wasn’t so much an issue of taking care of himself, it was the boredom. It wasn’t that he needed Merlin to entertain him, he wasn’t a child no matter what Merlin said, but he found that he rather enjoyed doing things, especially new things, with Merlin.

That night, out of sheer boredom, he found himself in Merlin’s room, shuffling through some of Merlin’s mementos. He had piles of knick-knacks from hundreds of lifetimes. Merlin had moved around a lot, so he didn’t have large objects, or really anything that seemed outwardly important. On the desk, there was a small silver brooch. The bookshelf had piles and piles of manuscripts, leather bound novels, and hand-written journals, all of which were in dozens of languages. At the foot of Merlin’s bed there was a chest, which Arthur had never seen Merlin open before. Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t riffle through his friend’s things, but a long time ago Merlin had agreed that Arthur was allowed to riffle and ask about all his knick-knacks. They had decided that secrets were a thing of the past for them.

Arthur opened the chest, not expecting to find much. It was filed with an assortment of things, the first that caught Arthur’s eye was a grimoire written in the language of the Old Religion. It was probably the last of its kind. Below there was a small box wrapped in what appeared to be one of Merlin’s old tunics from Camelot. Inside the box was his mother’s sigil. It was worn, and as Arthur ran his thumb over the dove, he could almost feel the warmth of the fire when he had handed it to Merlin that night so many years ago now. He carefully set them aside.

The chest was filled with odd trinkets. There was a tube, inside of which Arthur found a rolled piece of canvas. He unfurled the painting to find a watercolor of Merlin, looking as if he had just rolled out of bed in a puffy white undershirt and a casual smile.

There were stacks of envelopes tied together with string. Arthur peaked at a few, noting that most of them were fairly recent, from the 1980s. The writing was messy and frantic. Arthur couldn’t read most of it, but he saw that the letters were from a man in the United States, living in New York City.

There was a box of photographs, ranging from what appeared to be old daguerreotypes to polaroid pictures. Arthur flipped through them. Most of them were groups of men standing together. Some were blurry night shots, but Arthur could still see men with painted faces and women dressed in suits. Others showed masses of people marching. One image showed Merlin leaning against a brick wall in a white shirt tucked into cuffed jeans. In his hand was a large black sign with a single pink triangle with white block letters that read, “Queer Power.”

Arthur spent the rest of the evening examining the photographs and reading through the letters. They were from people Merlin had met over the years. Most weren’t labeled so Arthur had to put the pieces together himself. The daguerreotypes were from a gentleman’s club in the late 19th century. The string bound letters were from a young man, talking of a disease that was spreading like wildfire through the city. The photograph of Merlin with the sign had a date on it, and with a little help of the internet, Arthur figured out that it was a snapshot right before a huge riot in London.

Part of him had known that Merlin didn’t care about gender when it came to love. In Camelot Merlin had never mentioned anyone by name, but that didn’t mean Arthur didn’t know Merlin had spent time with men and women alike. Over the past year it felt like Merlin had recounted most of his life after Camelot, but it appears he had left out this piece of the puzzle.

Merlin had always been stubborn, strong, and determined to fight for those in need. Merlin had told Arthur that while he was ‘away’ Merlin had travelled the world helping those that he could. The world was always in need of a physician, he had told Arthur. But he had never mentioned this. They had promised no more secrets, but Arthur supposed that even after a year, there would still be more stories for Merlin to tell.

***

By the time Merlin returned from his trip, Arthur had neatly put everything back to its proper place. He decided this information needed more research and luckily, Arthur had his own laptop once Merlin discovered it was a lot easier to explain the internet than everything that had happened over the course of a thousand years.

“Can I ask you something?”

Merlin was drying the dishes, but he looked over his shoulder to Arthur, who was sitting at the kitchen table, laptop open with several tabs open on articles about queer history, human rights, and UK law.

Merlin hummed an affirmative, turning back to the dish rack.

“Who was Ian?”

Merlin drops the glass he was drying but it doesn’t break, and Arthur can tell that’s only because it splashed back into the soapy water instead of the floor.

Merlin stops and Arthur watched the tension in his shoulder. “You saw the letters?”

“You said it was alright if I looked around.”

“I know,” Merlin said, obviously restraining himself. Arthur didn’t know if he was angry or just vulnerable.

“Was he…?” Arthur hated how he couldn’t get out the words. A green monster was stirring in his stomach, which wasn’t fair. Arthur didn’t have a claim on Merlin. Even if he did, the man was left to roam the Earth for hundreds of years, he was allowed a lover or two.

“I was travelling, and New York was a hot spot of people in need at the time,” Merlin said, “He was a teacher. He’d recently gotten fired when the school found out he was gay. I met him at a gay bar. He was…” Merlin stopped and Arthur could tell he wasn’t able to say much more.

“Did he make it?”

Merlin shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said, his throat tight. “Did you love him?”

“In a way. When you get to be as old as I am, you love a lot of different people in a lot of different ways.” Merlin sighed and Arthur saw him wipe away a small tear. Merlin’s heart had to be as big as the sea. He had love in his heart for everyone he met, a tear for everyone he lost.

Arthur stood up, not taking time to think. He slipped behind Merlin and wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing his face into Merlin’s neck. Merlin’s back was stiff for a second and Arthur felt his breath stutter in his chest. Merlin’s hands were wet as they came to rest on Arthur’s forearms, which were firmly wrapped around his middle.

“Camelot was different. No one minded two men living together,” Merlin’s voice was just a breath, barely audible. “Things changed.”

“But you didn’t,” Arthur said, noticing Merlin’s shiver when he spoke against his neck.

“Arthur…What are you doing?”

“I’ve been told it’s a hug,” Arthur said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Arthur,” Merlin turned his head to look at him, his eyes a mix of annoyed and maybe a hint of fear.

Arthur swallowed down the emotion that rose in his throat, “I’m sorry you had to watch the people you love die. I’m sorry you had to watch me die.”

“Don’t ever apologize for that,” Merlin turned in his arms, gripping Arthur’s arm with a tight hand. “By the gods, don’t ever apologize for letting me have those moments. You gave me your last moments, Arthur.”

Arthur rested his forehead against Merlin’s, and for a long time they just breathed in together.

Merlin reached up and tucked some of Arthur’s hair behind his ear, “I know I never said it, but I love you.”

Arthur smiled, “That’s because you didn’t need to say it.”

“Ass,” Merlin smiled. “I don’t know if I want to punch you or kiss you.”

“It’s a tossup, I suppose.” Arthur said, leaning in to give Merlin a kiss on the corner of his mouth, linger just long enough to feel Merlin’s gasp. “I love you too, if that wasn’t obvious, either.”

***

Prompts + Ficlets

#merlin #merlin fic #ficlets #oof its been a hot minute since i wrote #literally havent looked at fanfiction in over two months #its been a rough one guys #but im getting back into it #thanks for waiting queercatboy #sorry for the wait #queercatboy

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bananaofswifts · 4 years ago

Text

At the beginning of March, the National’s Aaron Dessner traveled back to the United States from Paris, where he’d been living with his family, to shack up at Sonic Ranch Studio in Tornillo, Texas to work on the next Big Red Machine album with Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon. Those plans — obviously — soon shifted, as the reality of the COVID-19 pandemic set in. Dessner and his family were able to relocate to their home in upstate New York as lockdown orders went into effect, and the musician soon settled into a groove of homeschooling his kids and focusing fully on music in a way he hadn’t in a while, due to the National’s regularly rigorous touring schedule.

In the middle of what Dessner describes as one of the most productive moments of his career, Taylor Swift called.

A longtime and avowed fan of the National, Swift asked if Dessner wanted to try collaborating on a few songs remotely. He said of course, and asked if she was looking for anything in particular. He noted that he had plenty of material at the ready, but acknowledged he’d been in a more experimental mood, due to the Big Red Machine sessions; not to mention, Dessner added, he’d never really ventured into the pop world Swift has dominated for well over a decade. She told him to send everything he had.

“I think she was interested in the emotions that she feels in some of the music that I’ve made,” Dessner tells Rolling Stone.” So I just sent her a folder of things I’d done recently and was excited about. Hours after, she sent back a fully written version of ‘Cardigan.’ It was like a lightning bolt struck the house.”

Over the next few months, Dessner and Swift crafted the bulk of Swift’s eighth studio album, Folklore, which was released today, July 24th, after being announced the day before. Folklore is yet another mesmerizing musical move from Swift — a shift in sound, style and palette towards a vaster indie sound (à la, of course, the National) that still feels distinctly Swift-ian, as if she’s been making music like this her whole career. Lyrically, too, the record finds Swift playing with character and myth in new ways that — befitting the album’s title — recall the great American folk tradition.

Dessner wasn’t the album’s only collaborator; Swift wrote several songs with regular producer Jack Antonoff, as well as songwriter named William Bowery, who doesn’t seem to have much of an internet footprint. Vernon also contributed to two songs, singing on one of the album’s many stunners, “Exile,” while Dessner’s brother and National bandmate, Bryce Dessner, helped orchestrate it with a mix of musicians scattered around the globe (none of whom even knew what they were playing on when they recorded their parts).

Dessner spoke with Rolling Stone about working with Swift, their instant chemistry, how the album developed under a thick cloud of secrecy and more.

When Taylor first reached out, did she have a specific vision in mind for the album?  She was a bit cryptic. I didn’t know that we were actually working on a record for quite a while. It just seemed that she was seeking me out to collaborate. And then we were both feeling very inspired by it. Once there were six or seven songs that we had written over a couple of weeks, she said, “Hey can we talk?” Then she said, ‘This is what I’m imagining,’ and started to tell me about the concept of Folklore. Then she mentioned that she’d written some songs at an earlier stage with Jack [Antonoff], and they felt like they really fit together with what we were doing. It was a very inspiring, exhilarating collaborative process that was almost entirely remote. Very sort of warp speed, but also something about it felt like we were going toe-to-toe and in a good pocket.

After “Cardigan,” how did these songs develop and do you think she pushed you in any new directions as a songwriter?  When you’re working with someone new, it takes a second to understand their instincts and range. It’s not really conscious. She wrote “Cardigan,” and then “Seven,” then “Peace.” They kind of set a road map, because “Cardigan” was this kind of experimental ballad, the closest thing to a pop song on the record, but it’s not really. It’s this emotional thing, but it has some strange sounds in it. “Seven” is this kind of nostalgic, emotional folk song. Even before she sang to it, I felt this nostalgia, wistful feeling in it, and I think that’s what she gravitated towards. And “Peace,” that just showed me the incredible versatility that she had. That song is just three harmonized bass lines and a pulse. I love to play bass like that — play one line then harmonize another, and another, which is a behavior I stole from Justin Vernon, because he’s done that on other things we’ve done together. And actually, that’s his pulse, he sent me that pulse and said, “Do something with this.” But when she wrote that song, which kind of reminds me of a Joni Mitchell song over a harmonized bassline and a pulse, that was kind of like, “Woah, anything can happen here.” That’s not easy to do.

So, in the morning I would wake up and try to be productive. “Mad Woman” is one I wrote shortly after that, in terms of sound world, felt very related to “Cardigan” and “Seven.” I do have a way of playing piano where it’s very melodic and emotional, but then often it’s great if whoever’s singing doesn’t sing exactly what’s in the piano melody, but maybe it’s connected in some way. There was just some chemistry happening with her and how she was relating to those ideas.

“Epiphany” was something she had an idea for, and then I imagined these glacial, Icelandic sounds with distended chords and this almost classical feeling. That was another one where we wrote it and conceived it together. She just has a very instinctive and sharp musical mind, and she was able to compose so closely to what I was presenting. What I was doing was clicking for her. It was exhilarating for us, and it was surreal — we were shocked by it, to be honest [Laughs]. I think the warmth, humanity and raw energy of her vocals, and her writing on this record, from the very first voice memos — it was all there.

Do you think that chemistry might’ve had something to do with her being a National fan, and you being a fan of her music?  We met Taylor at Saturday Night Live in 2014, or whenever that was that we played and Lena Dunham was hosting. We got to meet her, and that was our first brush with a bona fide pop star. But then she came to see us play in Brooklyn last summer and was there in a crazy rainstorm, like torrential downpour, and watched the whole show and stayed for a long time afterwards, talking to me and my brother. She was incredibly charming and humble. That’s the nice thing about her, and a lot of people I’ve met that have that kind of celebrity. It’s great when you can just tune it out and be normal people and chat, and that’s how that felt. So, we knew that she was a big fan, and we really got into the 1989 album. Our Icelandic collaborator, Ragnar Kjartansson, is a crazy Swiftie. So we’ve kind of lived vicariously through him. I’ve always been astonished by how masterful she is in her craft. I’ve always listened to her albums and put them in this rarefied category, like, “How did she do that? How does anybody do that? How do you make ‘Blank Space?’” There was an element that was intimidating at first, where it just took me a second to be like… Not because I think her music is better than what we’ve done, but it’s just a different world.

Were there particular songs, albums or artists the two of you discussed as reference points for this album? “Betty,” which is a song she wrote with William Bowery, she was interested in sort of early Bob Dylan, like Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan, I think. “Epiphany,” early on, felt like some weird Kate Bush-meets-Peter Gabriel thing. I think we talked a little about those things, but not a lot. Actually, I think she really trusted me as far as my instincts to where the music would ultimately go, and also the mixing process. We really wanted to keep her voice as human, and kind of the opposite of plastic, as possible. That was a bit of a battle. Because everything in pop music tends to be very carved out, a smiley face, and as pushed as possible so that it translates to the radio or wherever you hear it. That can also happen with a National song — like if you changed how these things are mixed, they wouldn’t feel like the same song. And she was really trusting and heard it herself. She would make those calls herself, also.

You mentioned William Bowery — who is he? He’s a songwriter, and actually because of social distancing, I’ve never met him. He actually wrote the original idea for “Exile,” and then Taylor took it and ran with it. I don’t actually know to be totally honest.

We’ve been trying to track him down, he doesn’t have much of an internet presence. Yeah, I don’t fully know him, other than he wrote “Betty” and “Exile” with her. But you know she’s a very collaborative person, so it was probably some songwriter.

So it’s not an alias for anyone? No, no, no. I mean, I don’t know — she didn’t tell me there was a “Cardigan” video until literally it came out, and I wrote the song with her [laughs]. So I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure he’s an actual songwriter. She enjoys little mysteries.

“These are kind of these folkloric, almost mythical tales that are woven in of childhood, lost love, and different sentiments across the record.”

With the National, you and your brother write the music, Matt Berninger adds the lyrics, and then you fuse it — was it a similar process on Folklore? Taylor is very collaborative in that sense that, whenever she sent a voice memo, she would send all the lyrics and then ask me what I thought. And sometimes we would debate certain lines, although generally she’s obviously a strong writer. So she would ask me if I liked one line, and she would give me alternate lines and I would give her my opinion. And then when she was actually tracking vocals, I would sometimes suggest things or miss things, but she definitely has a lot of respect for the collaborative process and wants whoever she’s writing with to feel deeply included in that process. It was nice, and was a back and forth, for sure. And she would sometimes have ideas about the production if she didn’t like something, especially. She would, in a tactful way, bring that up. I appreciated that, too, since I wanted to try to turn over every leaf, take risks and sometimes get it wrong. That always takes a second, to get over and then you start again.

You mentioned earlier that once you had six, seven songs, she was able to describe a concept behind the album. I’m curious what that conversation was like.  She would always explain what each song was about to me, even before she articulated the Folklore concept. And I could tell early on that they were these narrative songs, often told from a different… not in the first person. So there are different characters in the songs that appear in others. You may have a character in “Betty” that’s also related to one in “Cardigan,” for example. And I think that was, in her mind, very, very important. It doesn’t seem like, for this record at least, that she was inspired to write something until she really knew what it was about. And I think I’m used to a more — at least lately — impressionistic and experimental world of making stuff without really knowing what it is. But this was more direct, in that sense. That was really helpful, to know what it was about and it would guide some of the choices we were making.

Every time she would send something, she would narrate a little bit, like how it fit, or what it was about. And then when she told me about Folklore as a concept, it made so much sense. Like “The Last Great American Dynasty,” for example, this kind of narrative song that then becomes personal at the end — it flips and she enters the song. These are kind of these folkloric, almost mythical tales that are woven in of childhood, lost love, and different sentiments across the record. It was binding it all together and I think it’s personal, but also through the guise of other people, friends and loved ones.

You were working in secret — how did that affect the process? Was that a difficult burden? It was. I was humbled and honored and grateful for the opportunity and for the crazy sort of alchemy we were having. But it was hard not to be able to talk openly with my usual collaborators, even my brother at first. I didn’t know if I could really tell him, because we normally… Ultimately, he helped me quite a bit, he orchestrated songs. But we always help each other. But eventually, we figured out how to do it. Towards the end of the process, I said to Taylor, ‘I really feel that I need to try a few experiment and try to elevate a few moments on the record because we have time, and we’ve really done a ton of work here, and it all sounds great, but I think we can go even further.’ And then she said, ‘Well what does that mean?’ And I explained how that would work, and the way that we work. Our process is very community-oriented, and we have long-time collaborators that we have a good understanding with. So I was able to say, to my friends, ‘This is a song I’m working on, I can’t send it to you with the vocals, and I can’t tell you what it is, but I can explain what I’m imagining.’ And the same with my brother, he knows my music so well that that was very easy for him to just take things that we were working on, add to that, and do his kind of work. So it was all remote and everyone was in their corner and we were shipping things around. It was incredibly fast because of that, because you didn’t have eight people needing to come to the studio. You had eight people working simultaneously — one in France and one in L.A. and one in Brooklyn. This is how it went, and it was fun. We got there.

When were you able to tell everyone who contributed that this was the Taylor Swift record, what was their reaction? You can imagine. I think they realized it was something big because [of] the confidentiality, and they were like, ‘It could only be a few things.’ I couldn’t tell them until, basically, when she announced it. Just in the moments after she announced it, I basically told everyone. I was like, ‘By the way…’ And they were thrilled. Everyone’s thrilled. Nobody seemed mad, everyone was thrilled and honored. Even Justin Vernon had not heard anything else except “Exile,” even though the pulse of that song “Peace,” he gave that song to me. It was important to have it be a surprise, and you know how it can be with someone in her position, with all the speculation, and she’s always under a lot of pressure like that. So it was really important to the creative freedom she was feeling that this remained a secret, so she could just do what we were doing.

Being such longtime friends and collaborators with Justin, what was it like hearing “Exile” for the first time? His voice and Taylor’s together?  He’s so versatile and has such a crazy range, and puts so much emotion… Every time he sings when I’m in his presence, my head just kind of hits the back of the wall. That’s the same on this song. William Bowery and Taylor wrote that song together, got it to a certain point, then I sort of interpreted it and developed a recording of it, and then Taylor tracked both the male and female parts. And then we sent it to Justin and he re-did obviously the male parts and changed a few things and also added his own: He wrote the “step right out” part of the bridge, and Taylor re-sang to that. You feel like, in a weird way, you’re watching two of the greatest songwriters and vocalists of our generation collaborating. I was facilitating it and making it happen, and playing all the music. But it was definitely a “Wow.” I was just a fan at that point, seeing it happen.

Are there any moments that really stick out to you as particularly pivotal in shaping the sound of this record?  The initial response. When we first connected, and I sent a folder of music and Taylor wrote “Cardigan,” and she said, “This is abnormal. Why do you have all these songs that are so emotional and so moving to me? This feels fated.” And then she just dove into it and embraced this emotional current. And I hope that’s what people take out of it: The humanity in her writing and melodies. It’s a different side to her. She could have been every bit as successful just making these kinds of songs, but it’s so great that she’s also made everything that she’s ever made, and this is a really interesting shift, and an emotional one. It also opens other doors, because now it’s kind of like she can go wherever she wants, creatively. The pressure to make a certain kind of… bop — or whatever you want to call it — is not there really anymore. And I think that’s really liberating, and I hope her fans and the world are excited by that because I am. It’s really special.

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