#flari: in nomine patris

[hotchfiles]

↪ QUIS UT DEUS? ─ chapter one.

AN IN NOMINE PATRIS, ET FILII, ET SPIRITUS SANCTI INSTALLMENT

pairing: hotch x fem!consultant!reader. summary: murders committed using catholic symbology gets emily to convince hotch it's time to ask for an expert. luckily for you, you're the expert. content warnings: canon typical violence. religious themes. spoilers to season 4. mature themes. word count: 1.5K

    In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti…

    “Amen.” If you weren’t paying attention and side eyeing him at that exact moment, you might’ve lost the way his lips moved following the ritual, no word actually leaving his mouth. 

    The black haired man didn’t look too comfortable, but didn’t look out of place either, he knew the cues, he spoke the words on automatic it seemed. It amused you to observe people’s behavior on holy grounds, that was part of the reason you asked to meet in silver spring.

    “Catholic, Mr. Hotchner?” Your question is met with a low scoff, the type only those with a bad bad history with the church gave you. “That much, huh?”

    “My parents were.” The answer is simple and you think it might stop at that, but he shakes his head and scoffs again. “I was an altar boy for years before I left for boarding school.” You nod. 

    “Ah. I've met some of you in my research.” Some of you. Church babies, altar boys. Spoon fed the bible from birth while watching everyone around sin. Sin becoming a term to reflect on what they hated. 

    “And you? Catholic?” 

    “Oh no. Never been.” You don’t explain much, aware Emily probably told him of your time in Rome, where the two of you met. “Your UnSub is though. Either devoted to Saint Michael or knows enough about his roles to look like one.” You note, being reminded of the pictures Emily sent you, big stab wounds, a small scale tipped to one side, the words Hebrews 9:22 written in blood. 

    Hotchner doesn’t reply, making a mental reminder of the new information, he looks around the place as you both leave the church and it hits him, Silver Spring’s St. Michael the Archangel parish, the church you chose as a meeting place. 

    He wouldn’t usually accept consultation for cases, especially from outsiders. And to be fair, the BAU doesn’t usually need any, Reid alone has more knowledge than anyone Hotch has ever met, and despite the humbleness he tends to show, Hotch himself can take care of the general book knowledge if Reid doesn’t step up to it. But he trusted Emily, and Emily spoke more highly of you than of anyone. Honestly, he was also trying to make amends after not having her back during the Matthew case they had not long before. 

    “She's in town giving lectures, it’s an asset we have easy access to, so why not use it?” Were her final and most convincing words before Hotch nodded in agreement, watching Emily make the call that led to the meeting. 

    He thinks now, as he’s driving both of you to Quantico, that maybe Emily should’ve been the one here, his attempts to strike conversation falling flat as you don’t even remember the last time you had to make small talk with someone, it felt awkward all of a sudden, as if you were on a date. 

    “I'm so sorry, I'm not too good with… People.” You blurt out after a long minute of silence, your neck suddenly warm from embarrassment. 

    Hotch side eyes you, brows lifted in confusion. You seemed much less confident in the car now than what you showed him of you minutes before back at the church. He figures you felt confident talking about your area of expertise and that he could relate to easily. “Did you notice anything else by the pictures Emily sent you?” 

    The switch of topic makes you sigh loudly in relief and you mentally thank him for brushing your silliness off. “He’s using different pieces of catholic dogma and putting it together, but most of the symbology eludes to Michael, the stabbing looks like a sword, the tipped scale indicates judgment, the verse he chose doesn’t cite Michael but talks about sins being forgiven by the shedding of blood… He’s the judge and executioner of his victims.” You try not to sound excited as you ramble on, it’s a terrible thing to witness, the pictures were grotesque and would’ve made you sick on a normal day, but the cherry picking of symbols the murderer seemed to make fascinated you. 

    “So you believe it’s a man?” 

    “Oh! I–I don’t know? I just assumed… Is that misogynistic?” You mumble the last part more to yourself, but it’s loud enough to make him chuckle and you look at him quickly to make sure it’s not mean spirited. 

    It’s definitely not. But it is amusing from a profiler perspective, he’s so used to defining serials’ genders by their crimes he hasn’t thought about misogyny being a factor to those assumptions in a long time. 

    “Brutality suggests male. But posing looks remorseful, theatrical…” His grip on the wheel tightens, two victims by now, feet crossed, arms wide open. 

    “If there were more allusions to the crucifixion, yeah, but I–” You take your phone out to look at the pictures once more, an attempt to seem less abstract in what you’re about to say. “No crown, no nails, this isn’t about Christ, it’s about punishment–I mean, I think.” You’re not usually self conscious about your knowledge but inferring characteristics and desires to someone by looking at a crime scene was not your specialty. 

    “To further point they were judged and executed…” Hotch nods, understanding where your line of thought is going and completing it immediately, not leaving you much time to doubt yourself. 

    “A very shameful execution.” 

    You both spend the short ride from Silver Springs to Quantico going over the symbology present, you tried to help here and there with the associations of what you saw to who could’ve done it, even though that was not what you were called in for. Strangely enough—for him at least, Hotch didn’t seem to mind your guesses, they were educated ones.

    And it was interesting to hear someone speak with such passion about religious aspects without any of the fundamentalism. It was definitely something he wasn’t used to.

    “Mi amore!” Are the first words you hear as you enter the famous bullpen from Emily’s texts, her arms surrounding you in a tight warm hug you haven’t felt in years—it hits you then how long has it been. You weren’t able to come and mourn Matthew with her, his parents weren’t fond of you either (Lord almighty, you didn’t even go to church with them!) and you were busy with your lectures.

    “Hey troublemaker, how’s it going?” Your question is muffled in the hug, your hands clasping together behind her back.

    The reunion doesn’t last long, curious eyes set on you two and a rather impatient Hotch leading the way to what you learned was the conference room.

    The briefing room. The round table. Emily told you about it when she first got into the BAU.

    You end up sitting between Emily and who you would bet was Spencer—there’s this sweet kid working with us, he’s super smart, annoyingly smart, but so sweet, he reminds of Matty when we were teens—the lanky boy was the only one with what seemed like naivety enough in his eyes to be the one Emily mentioned back then. 

    Aaron sat in front of you almost, serious, stern, very different from the few chuckles you got from him in the car. This was unit chief Hotchner, the subtle difference was fascinating.

    “Alright, as we know, DC is in trouble, second murder in three weeks.” blonde and gorgeous, you believed that was JJ, there had been no time for introductions, all you could do was try to remember the e-mails and few phone calls you shared with Emily the past years. “Richard Beckett, married, no kids, 27. He works for his father's car dealership.” 

    Pictures show up on the screen, showing the man when he was alive. It’s a punch to your gut, just minutes before you were fascinated by the way this real person was murdered. You’re glad you had a light breakfast by the way your stomach turns.

    “Monica Dawson, divorced, no kids, 53. She’s a counselor at a local school.” The woman continues speaking, with more pictures on the screen. And then pictures of their deaths, side by side. The fascination is completely extinguished then. “Both were stabbed countless times with a large blade. Left in abandoned warehouses posed in a cross position, a tipped scale on their side. Both naked. Both were heavily drugged.”

    “They didn’t have kids, is that a coincidence?” You hear Emily speak up and suddenly you can see all their brains working.

    “Could that be the linking between them? The victimology is all over the place.” Derek. Oh. You’ve heard of Derek. You’ve seen pictures of Derek. He needs no introduction. 

    “Reid, Morgan, go talk to the first victim’s widow. Rossi, JJ, Ms. Dawson’s ex-husband can give us insight on her life. Emily and us—” He gives you a look and you understand he means you, nodding in reply. “Will head to the DC police precinct.” The way Hotch gives orders is effortless, not only his job but his vocation. 

    Everyone listens and agrees quickly, moving and leaving the table, even Emily is fast on her feet, even though she won’t leave without you and him. You stay still, stiff, eyes glued to the screen.

    “Are you alright?” His voice is soft, laced with worry, genuine worry. You didn’t even notice he had stayed behind, but you nod again at Hotch, a question burning at the tip of your tongue.

    “Do you still believe in God, Mr. Hotchner?”

[hotchfiles]

↪ DANIEL 12:1 ─ chapter two.

AN IN NOMINE PATRIS, ET FILII, ET SPIRITUS SANCTI INSTALLMENT

pairing: hotch x fem!consultant!reader. summary: murders committed using catholic symbology gets emily to convince hotch it's time to ask for an expert. luckily for you, you're the expert. content warnings: canon typical violence. religious themes. spoilers to season 4. mature themes. mentions of throwing up. word count: 1.2K

      At that time Michael, the great prince who protects your people, will arise. There will be a time of distress such as has not happened from the beginning of nations until then. But at that time your people—everyone whose name is found written in the book—will be delivered.

      He didn’t reply to your question, how could he? What type of person asks another if they believe in God after an hour of meeting each other? How could he answer a question he himself wasn’t sure if there was an answer to?

      Did he believe in God? What god? His mother’s, the one who allowed her to drink her feelings and spit it out in form of insults and violence towards her family? The one that allowed his father to die of cancer? The one that didn’t do anything to stop the sick men and women Hotch had to catch every week?

      He shakes his head, trying to get his thoughts back to the case presented now in the board of the DC precinct but his eyes land on you, the way your foot shakes, up and now, your legs crossed, your fingers tapping the table quickly and with a rhythm of their own, your bottom lip would bleed out if you kept chewing on them, but what he noticed most were your eyes, wide and focused on the board with all the pictures from the crimes, even the ones Emily hadn’t sent you.

      This was the reason bringing outside people was not a good idea. Not everyone is prepared to deal with death, horrific deaths at that, the way the BAU members were. You clearly weren’t. He might’ve asked you how you were once more, but as quick as he thought about it, you two weren’t alone anymore as the lead detective and Emily came into the room.

      “They were drugged but could feel everything.” The words ring inside your ears, loud and repetitive like a beating heart. Your heart. Your mouth waters in a way you know too well and you feel your palms clamming.

      You’re going to be sick.

      You give the room half a smile and a nod, quietly excusing yourself from the others while making the effort not to make a scene, but you’re barely able to see where you’re going as you try to reach the bathroom.

      Something tells you you’ve done a good job at being discreet, even if you weren’t able to conceal the awful sounds coming from your throat, the light breakfast you had suddenly not seeming very light. It’s probably the fact no one knows you, or maybe because everyone else is busy trying to solve a goddamn murder case.

      The thoughts in your head were quickly brushed over when you heard someone clear their throat, a light knock on the door of the stall you were kneeling at. Your body reacts fast, holding the door with your palms even though it was locked.

      “Sorry, occupied.” Your voice in rough from putting it through too much, but you stay polite regardless.

      “Are you alright?” There is genuine concern in his, it keeps any shame from creeping up on you.

      “Mr. Hotchner! I’m okay… I ate something bad, it’s alright.” The lie comes without a second thought, but it’s obvious he doesn’t buy it. You get up quickly, opening the door as an attempt to leave the situation behind along with the contents you just flushed down.

      “No one expects you to react to these like we do.” His eyes are piecing and you swallow dry, nodding in understanding and thankfulness, but unable to say much else. “I will leave you to it, we are going through the files again, if you need anything, you can text me.” Hotch hands you his card, realizing you don’t really have his number and stands to his word, leaving you alone.

      Truthfully, he’s not sure what made him follow you to the bathrooms, possibly the fact Emily didn’t seem to notice the way your lips had gotten devoid of color or maybe it was just in his nature to care for others, fascinating alike you or not.

      It doesn’t take you too long to go back to the conference room the team was set, only some minutes to wash your mouth and your face, a few deep breaths to control your heart rate.

      “So the motive isn’t religious?” You hear a police officer ask as soon as you get back.

      “It has religious elements but the message doesn’t seem religious.” You smile to yourself as Emily speaks, fascinated by her quickness to get into work mode, to get into the mind of who was doing all of that.

      “It‘s about punishment.” Hotch repeats your earlier insight, it makes you feel useful, and smart. You knew you were intelligent, brightly so, but having something you said be important in something so big as an investigation was… Different.

      “And how is that not religious?”

      “Punishment coming from a religious motive would probably include whipping and at the most extreme, burning. The use of the cross pose seems purposeful, it is a punishment, a shameful one, but also, there’s some… Status to it, because it was how Jesus was killed.” You can be heard by everyone, but your focus is again on the pictures, your finger quietly drawing invisible crosses along the table. “I guess it can be another way to allude to Catholicism, like Saint Michael, they are the religion with the biggest attachment to the image of Christ in the cross. But then again, it doesn’t have any other aspect of Christ’s crucifixion.”

      No one has the time to reply to your rambling, a loud ringtone interrupting the brainstorming, Hotch answers, promptly putting the call on speaker.

      “The widow was no help, she is shaken up and has no idea who would want to kill her husband.” Derek sounds defeated, “And Hotch, he wasn‘t religious.”

      “Mrs. Beckett said she tried to bring him to mass countless times during their marriage but he always vehemently refused to.” Spencer’s voice is higher in pitch but he sounds intrigued, deep in thought.

      “Alright, come back to the precinct, we are waiting for Rossi and JJ and beginning to create a geographical profile.”

      Your puzzled look doesn’t last long, as the team present begins pinning on a map the victim’s homes and where they were found.

      “No churches near the warehouses, but two near Monica Dawson’s place.” Emily comments first looking at the red pins.

      The phone rings again and you wonder if they don’t get headaches from that sound coming out of nowhere all day, but the sweetest and most cheerful voice you ever heard comes on speaker, Garcia, and you smile involuntarily.

      “Garcia, any leads?”

      “You know I do, my darling sweet boss—”

      “Don’t call me that.”

      “Fine, sweet sir, both warehouses are pretty much truly abandoned, but I sniffed around, and by that I mean I went far far back and found some documents I maybe shouldn’t be sniffing around—”

      “Garcia.” You hold in a laugh at the interaction and the supposedly threatening tone Hotch was using.

      “Both were used for military training, like… SEAL type of military.”

      There is a bit of an awkward silence before Hotch thanks and dismisses her, with the mission to find records of everyone who were apart of those trainings.

      “If we’re dealing with a Navy SEAL…” Emily’s voice is a whisper you’ve never heard before.

      “Things might get ugly. We need to be fast.” Hotch’s shows more confidence, but he is worried and as you realize seconds later when an officer barges in, he has every reason to.

      “There’s been another one.”

[hotchfiles]

coming soon — in nomine patris, et filii, et spiritus sancti.

hotch x consultant!reader. multi chapter. case fic.

in nomine patris, et filii, et spiritus sancti…

“amen.” if you weren’t paying attention and side eyeing him at that exact moment, you might’ve lost the way his lips moved following the ritual, no word actually leaving his mouth.

the black haired man didn’t look too comfortable, but didn’t look out of place either, he knew the cues, he spoke the words on automatic it seemed. it amused you to observe people’s behavior on holy grounds, that was part of the reason you asked to meet in silver spring.

“catholic, mr. hotchner?” your question is met with a low scoff, the type only those with a bad bad history with the church gave you. “that much, huh?”

“my parents were.” the answer is simple and you think it might stop at that, but he shakes his head and scoffs again. “was an altar boy for years before i left for boarding school.” you nod.

“ah. i’ve met some of you in my research.” some of you. church babies, altar boys. spoon fed the bible from birth while watching everyone around sin. sin becoming a term to reflect on what they hated.

“and you? catholic?”

“oh no. never been.” you don’t explain much, aware emily probably told him of your time in rome, where the two of you met. “your unsub is though. either devoted to saint michael or knows enough about his roles to look like one.” you note, being reminded of the pictures emily sent you, big stab wounds, a small scale tipped to one side, the words hebrews 9:22 written in blood.

hotchner doesn’t reply, making a mental reminder of the new information, he looks around the place as you both leave the church and it hits him, silver spring’s st. michael the archangel parish, the church you chose as a meeting place.

[hotchfiles]

daniel 12:1 — quis ut deus?

[hotchfiles]

🎁✍🏻

[hotchfiles]

IMPORTANT QUESTION

[hotchfiles]

back on my AI voice bullshit (the quote from chapter two).

[hotchfiles]

— hebrews 9:22 was found written in blood in each scene.

[ficmeouttahere]

SHE IS FUCKING SERVINGGGG

— hebrews 9:22 was found written in blood in each scene.