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ameliemaaaee · 1 month ago

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The Silent Witness - Oneshot Series

(3) How You Find Yourself on Probation

Chapter Information: Summary: Your arrival to the BAU isn't exactly well timed, and you find yourself in the throes of one of their most intense cases. Content Warnings: S6/7 Spoilers, Doyle Arc Spoilers, Canon Violence/Gore, Awkward!Reader & Spencer. Word Count: 8,985.

Story Masterlist - (1) - (2) - (3)

The week had passed by particularly quickly, especially after you had officially been assigned to your position as Head of Forensic Pathology to the Bureau.

You had been shown around the mortuary and labs, being aware that you were the only person who would be working in the morgue until you had settled, where you would be able to hire techs to help.

And you were beyond happy with the set-up. The mortuary was big, and had its own offices, breakroom, gallery and plenty of storage and space for all your needs, and it was all yours to run. But that included a lot of paperwork.

You had been told to be at the BAU by ten, but to get ahead of some work you arrived at 7am, heading straight for your own office in the basement.

As you walked into the morgue the harsh, fluorescent lights hurt your eyes, but you welcomed the quiet.

You quickly made your way out onto the mortuary floor, weaving in between some examination tables you headed to the back wall where cabinets full of files, and equipment stood. In the corner was a small bar-like setup with stools and a computer, and this is where you chose to sit down and finish some of your paperwork.

Quickly setting an alarm for two hours, so you could be early, you set to work listing all the odd jobs and administrative duties required of you into a document.

With about half-an-hour left until you needed to head up to the BAU you started sorting through the team’s medical files, quickly realising that all of their physicals needed re-doing. But as you scanned the files further you realised that they were terribly done, and that they would need re-doing to your standards.

And as your alarm went off you sighed, closing down all your tabs and logging out of the computer, jogging towards the elevator.

You were startled out of your thoughts by the elevator arriving on the 6th floor. Quickly you adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder and walked into the awaiting chaos.

The BAU was abnormally busy this morning, and you weren’t quite sure why. The past few days had settled down after the Doyle case had been closed, but today the jostle, and bustle of various agents, and interns running around the place made the seemingly large room cramped.

Slowly, with your body on autopilot, you made your way to your desk. As you sat down, a stressed-looking Dr. Reid offered you a sly glance, before returning his gaze to the paperwork in front of him, scrawling at an extremely excessive pace.

As you gazed around looking for familiar faces, you noticed that all the members of the team that you could spot were dressed up, dressed up a lot fancier than you. You sighed, leaning back in your chair, trying to put two and two together as Spencer disappeared from his desk.

You sighed as you realised the coffee you had been sipping on was now empty, and you stood trailing towards the familiar breakroom, and the lifesaving coffee machine.

“Good morning.” You smile at Spencer who grumbles, what sounded like a quick response before turning away from you, rummaging, and banging through cupboards and drawers. Spencer’s brows were knit tightly together as he groaned, pulling his hands to his head, pulling lightly on his curly brown hair.

“Reid, are you okay?” Your voice comes out meek, breaking as you watch Spencer’s head snap up. He turns towards you, rolling his eyes.

“No Y/N, I’m not okay. You want to know why?! I’ve been lied to by every single member of this team for nearly 11 weeks, everyone, including you!” You take a quick step back at the outrage you didn’t think he was capable of. Did he know what you did for Emily?

“Spencer- I. You have her back now, not a lot of people can say that.” Spencer rolls his eyes at you , his arms flying out in frustration. Did he know?

“Of course, you wouldn’t understand. You are the smart doctor who got shipped in from London. You’re new, and you shouldn’t even be here if you can’t understand.” You sigh, trying your hardest not to let the tears prick your eyes, not to let Spencer see you cry.

But lucky for you he solves that problem himself. Spencer angrily snatches his mug from the grasp of the coffee machine, and storms out of the breakroom, slamming the door behind him.

Your feet are frozen in their spot, you can’t move as you process what had just happened. Spencer had confirmed your biggest fear; you didn’t belong.

“Y/N, they want you to testify in front of the panel.” Your eyes anxiously snapped towards Hotch’s.

“Why me? I interviewed the guy, like twice, because I related to him.” You begin to feel the chaos of the situation unravelling in front of you. For something you had so little involvement in, you didn’t feel that it was worthwhile questioning you.

“Y/N, I know you have only been here a week, but you are part of this team. You played a massive role in saving that young boy’s life, they deserve to hear about it from you. You also were involved in Emily’s cover-up, which they likely know about.” You sigh, pulling your knees to your chest.

“I don’t get a choice, do I?” You offered Hotch a slight smile as he shook his head.

“No, you don’t.” You knew that Hotch felt bad, he didn’t want you to feel as if you were on trial, but it was unfortunately a decision that went over his head.

“I have however, managed to convince them that you are unable to go in alone.” You feel a sense of relief wash over you at this. You weren’t the most reliable in social situations, and Hotch was aware of it from your file, he knew you had a history of being anxious around authority; and he was working with you to ease that.

“Spencer will be attending with you. You two are very similar, you will get on well.” You nod, trying not to allow a grimace to cross your face. You and Spencer didn’t really hit-it-off this morning.

“Uhm, Hotch?” The male raises his eyes to you expectantly as you sigh, contemplating your next move.

“Dr. Reid seems angry. Well, to be more specific, he seems angry at me.” You say it quite simply, not sure how else you would describe it. Hotch hums, urging you to continue, so you do.

“I uhm-“ You pause, slightly worried that you would get a lecture from Hotch for your encounter in the break room, you weren’t sure if you had done something wrong. You turned your gaze to the window in his office, peering through to the busy BAU as you spoke.

“- I ran into Reid in the break room, he was sort of, crashing about the place a bit, and I asked him if he was okay.” You pause, turning back to Hotch to gauge a reaction, but he simply nodded.

“He kind of got mad at me. He told me about he had been lied to by everyone in the team including me. I tried to help, by telling him that even though he grieved Emily’s loss, he had her back and that there weren’t many people who could say that. But he just stormed out…” Hotch sighs, his brows furrowing slightly.

“You didn’t do anything wrong Y/N-“

“I know, but it’s just that I feel like I joined at the wrong time. If I weren’t so in the way, maybe people like Reid would actually talk to me. Don’t get me wrong the BAU has been nothing but sweet, but I feel so alienated, like I’m hated because I didn’t go through the pain of grieving Emily. What if they know about how I helped you cover up Emily’s death…” Hotch offered you a soft smile as you finally turned your gaze towards him.

“They don’t know about that, I assure you. I understand this is difficult, and unfortunately, we couldn’t foresee this case.” He rests his hands in front of him on the desk, offering you a small smile.

“I know it’s been a difficult week for you, and I’m really sorry that I couldn’t stop you from having to testify. But I also know what Spencer’s like, and he will be obsessed with you when he has the chance to visit the labs and the morgue, he’s just a bit… preoccupied.” You allow a small chuckle at that, you certainly had a lot in common with your fellow doctor, you just hadn’t spoken much yet.

“Now, I do believe I told you to wear business clothes.” You feel your face pale as Hotch mentions your attire.

“I did. This is my nice hoodie!” Your voice raises an octave as Hotch scans you over, an eyebrow raised in disapproval at your leggings and hoodie combination, complete with glasses and a messy bun.

“Do you own business attire?” Hotch deadpans, a slight smile on his face. Whenever you were around Hotch made sure that he displayed his emotions more on his face, which really helped you feel more comfortable around him. You could tell that he wasn’t angry.

“Yeah-“

“Good.” Hotch guides you up from your crumpled position in the chair opposite his desk, almost pushing you towards the door. As you make your way onto the ramp above the bullpen everyone turns, Hotch beckoning them over.

“Emily, you will be taking Y/N to her apartment to change-“ You try to contain an eye roll as Hotch speaks directly to the male stood in front of you both.

“-please oversee her clothing choice, and Y/N?-“ You turn your gaze to Hotch, focusing it on the wall behind him to let him know you were listening.

“-for God’s sake, no more formal hoodies. You hear me?” You frantically nod, taking off like a child, running down the ramp as a chorus of laughs rings out from the team. You meet Emily at the bottom, she silently holds the door open for you, guiding you towards the elevators.

“Y/N, that is not smart enough for a hearing.” You sigh, exasperatedly as you lift the items from your bed, and place the cotton t-shirt and dress pants back into your wardrobe. Gasping as Emily pushes past you, thumbing her way through the hanging items of clothing.

“How about this?” Emily’s voice failed to break your reverie.

Emily seemed as though she had been struggling, returning to the team. Maybe she would understand your struggles?

“Y/N?” You shake your head lightly, focusing back on the present moment, to see Emily holding up two garments. One was a knee-length, grey plaid, pencil skirt, the second being a comfortable, bat-sleeved black jumper. It could work.

You nod lightly in conformation, making grabby hands for the items, as Emily bites her lip, passing them to you. Bouncing excitedly on the balls of your feet you let a smile cross your face. Watching as Emily’s face erupted in a smile in response to yours.

“Well… are you going to change?” You nod frantically, jogging across the room to a set of drawers, and pulling out a pair of tights. You then pad your way towards the en suite, entering and locking the door behind you.

“Oh Y/N, you look amazing in that!” Emerging in the clothes Emily let out a sigh of relief. You paid no attention, fiddling anxiously with the hem of your skirt, it was uncomfortable, the hem felt sharp against your legs.

“What shoes?” Your eyes snap up towards the female who had been studying your movements intensely yet was still unable to place the oddity of them.

“My Dr. Martens.” Emily smiles, as he roots through the bottom of your wardrobe, pulling out a pair of Docs, the shoes. You quickly run away from him, to where you dumped your Doc Marten boots before changing.

“Not the boots-“ Emily laughs as she watches you remove insoles from the bottom of your boots, plodding towards her. You happily fit them in your shoes, focusing hard on the task.

“Why not the boots?” You say softly as you sit on the bed, slipping the shoes on and doing up the laces.

“That’s a lesson for another day.“ Emily practically pushes you through your empty apartment and out the door, into the hallway.

As you make your way into the BAU with Emily by your side, everyone turns, and you can practically sense the collective sigh of relief the team are holding in.

You turn at the sound of a voice.

“She can certainly scrub up!” Everyone chuckles slightly at Morgan as you furrow your brows, deciding to remain quiet.

“Alright, we need to head to the hearing. Spencer, can you drive Y/N? Everyone else divide up.” Spencer cocks his head in confusion, likely wondering why you both had a car to yourself, but he didn’t ask why, he just nodded.

The car ride was mainly silent. The awkward kind, that settled thickly in the air. The occasional jumping of tyres against asphalt and unkempt roads reminding you of your presence in the vehicle speeding towards a day of quarrel and chaos.

You debate breaking the silence, you had one question.

“Spencer, why did you ask me to interview Doyle?” You voice comes out meek, almost cracking at the disuse of your voice, your leg bouncing anxiously in anticipation of both his answer and the impending trial.

Spencer’s gaze turned to you before focusing on the road, and perhaps you saw it soften slightly.

“You did a good job Y/N. They can’t condemn your actions when you did nothing wrong.” You nod slightly, your fingers finding the hemline of your skirt, the feeling of it cutting into your skin coming back, worse than before. Spencer’s gaze turns to you in slight concern, focusing intently between you and the road.

“You related to Doyle in a way we didn’t. You grew up in similar circumstances to him, and you can talk like it when you want to. He had a respect for you because you both had similar experiences, relatable experiences.” Spencer sighed lightly, gently reaching out and grabbing your hand which was now scratching anxiously at your legs.

“You offered a sincerity we didn’t have. You’re the youngest, and you aren’t a profiler. You aren’t trained to hide all emotion from an UnSub, you don’t seem like a typical FBI agent. He trusted you because you are so genuinely sincere, and you were so genuinely worried about Declan; he picked up on it.” Spencer sighs, squeezing your hand and resting it on the centre console, smiling meekly at you.

“Don’t move that hand.” You cease the anxious scratching at the sound of Spencer’s voice. He moves his hand to grip the steering wheel, reversing into a parking space, and switching off the engine. As Spencer removes the keys from the ignition, he turns to face you.

“I know we got off to a rough start, and I’m sorry I snapped at you. But I want you to know that I will be with you the whole time, and that this panel will not be able to chastise you in any way, okay?” You nod quickly, swallowing a lump in your throat.

“Okay.” You whisper as you quickly shake out your hands, flapping them up and down frantically, as if you were trying to shake out your nerves. Spencer watches you for a moment, before getting out of the car and making his way to your side, helping you out, stilling your hands with his own.

The walk to the foyer was short, Spencer had parked close, and he stuck closely by your side as you walked through the doors together, meeting the team and Strauss who were already gathered. You picked up on the anxiousness in the air as the pair of you walked over to the group, Strauss offering you a small smile as her and Hotch pull you aside.

“Dr. L/N, I do apologise for all this hassle.” Strauss speaks up as the rest of the team give you curious looks. You nod at the section chief as she offers you a slightly reassuring pat on your shoulder. Hotch nodding along with her.

“I hear Dr. Reid is going to attend with you?” You nod, offering a soft smile.

“Good luck doctor.” Strauss nods politely before turning towards the remainder of the team, lifting her hand in a quick goodbye. You turn back to Hotch who offers you a rare smile.

“You’ve got this.” He smiles before walking you over to the rest of the team. You take a seat on the bench next to Spencer offering him a quick smile as his gaze remains fixated on his hands in his lap.

The interior was beautiful if it weren’t for the circumstances. The floors were lined with marble, stretching through long, high corridors. There was only a single set of deep, stained, double doors in this hallway and they were the fateful doors. Multiple benches sat opposite the doors, neatly spaced down the hallway.

Both you and Spencer sat for what felt like hours in comfortable silence, simply watching as members of your team flitted about, providing constant motion and noise. You watched as the dwindling numbers of your team slowly read over reams upon reams of notes.

Unfortunately for you the silence was broken by Hotch, who made his way down the corridor towards you.

“Y/N, Spencer, you will both be called in a few minutes. You will both provide your statements together.” Hotch paths you on the shoulder, offering both you and Spencer good luck.

Spencer moved to stand at the sight of a security guard pacing towards the pair of you, he guided you up from the seat, pulling you closer to him. He leans over your shoulder slightly, whispering to you.

“I’ll go first, just try and settle yourself, take deep breaths. If it helps, try and memorise the room.” You nod, swallowing the butterflies that had made their way up your oesophagus, sending them back to the pit of your stomach where they remained, wreaking havoc.

“Dr. Reid, Dr. L/N?” The security guards interrupt your fidgeting, motioning for the pair of you to follow him. You feel Spencer’s hand in the small of your back guiding you towards the ominous doors. You knew he was using it as a tactic to sense your hesitation, and he was right. You felt your footing falter as you crossed the threshold into the room.

It was dark. The walls, and all the furniture was of a deep mahogany, it felt intrusive, almost fitting for the circumstances. The room was also dimly lit by a tall window on the right wall. In front of you, sat on a raised platform were eight different higher-ups, there to judge your fate.

“Agents, take a seat please.” The centremost male’s voice boomed throughout the room courtesy of his microphone. Spencer released you from his grasp as you sat, crossing your legs in the chair, beginning to follow Spencer’s advice.

Taking deep breaths, you smile politely as the male begins to talk.

“Okay agents, I’ve had a moment to review your files.” He pauses, lifting a pair of files up into your view to emphasise his point.

“Agent L/N, you have been with the Bureau a sum total of a week and a half, yes?” You nod promptly.

“Yes sir.” You say, trying to control the falter in your voice.

“How, in such little time, have you managed to involve yourself in such reckless activities?” You pause, unsure of what he was even talking about. He was putting you on trial just like everyone else.

“Sir, she had nothing to do with this. She simply followed orders and interviewed Doyle.” Spencer pipes up, much to your relief. You could feel your cheeks heating up however, under the scrutinising gaze of the panel in front of you.

“Agent, I don’t believe I was asking you?” Spencer sighs, slumping back in his seat.

“Let me go first, question her afterwards.” Spencer’s voice rings out throughout the room again, rubbing his temples with his left hand, giving you a passing glance as you fidget with your hands in your laps.

“If that’s what you want, agent. But that won’t stop me being shocked that they let someone like her into the Bureau.” You alert at this, narrowing your gaze towards the male ahead of you. Failing to notice Spencer tensing up.

“Someone like me?” You try your best to raise your voice to a normal level, but it comes out a mere whisper as you lean towards the microphone, grateful for its amplification.

The chairman chuckles, practically rolling his eyes.

“Yes, someone like you. Agent, you shouldn’t be here, your file even says it. Shall I read it?” You gesture for him to proceed as you lean back in your seat. Your nerves had now completely erased themselves and instead a passive rage took its place. He was going to dig a hole for himself, and never be able to get out of it. You noticed the panicked looks on the other board members faces, and you felt the sheer confusion radiating off Spencer.

“You somehow passed your firearms qualification in a week, but you don’t carry due to ‘noise sensitivity’. Sound familiar?” You offer the chairman a polite smile, leaning forwards.

“Sir, are these hearings being recorded?” You rest your elbow on the table, fiddling with the stem of the microphone. The male in front of you suddenly dropped his cocky demeanour, his brows furrowing at your hidden threat.

“Whose idea was it to release Ian Doyle?” The male quickly regains his composure, moving swiftly onwards with the questioning.

“It was mine.” Spencer speaks up, allowing you a quick breather.

“Was the decision to release Ian Doyle a personal one?” You furrow your brows at this. The whole team had banded together to save the life of a little boy, the last thing running through any of your heads was conspiracy to have Doyle killed.

“A young boy’s life was at stake. I ran the probability of his survival, and it wasn’t good.”

You simply nod along to Spencer, watching as the male in front of you both grows frustrated. Every word he said was true.

“And you, Agent L/N? You were the one who gleaned the information to instigate this mess.”

“Sir, as Doctor Reid said, our priority was Declan, he doesn’t deserve to die on behalf of his father. If there was an opportunity to save this boy, the team was going to take it. I was simply sent in to question him due to the fact I understood him better than anyone else.” You pause, allowing yourself to take a breath as Spencer hums in agreement. You try as hard as you can to hold back your repressed anger.

“Now, I’m not a maths expert, but I do believe that there were few outcomes that would have ended better than the one we had. If it weren’t for us, a young boy would be dead, and two international criminals would be at large. So, I implore you, find your empathy, and use it” You lean forwards raising your voice in emphasis as the male crosses his arm.

“Sir, if you want to punish me for risking Ian Doyle’s life, then I encourage you to do that, but don’t put Y/N, and the rest of my team on trial for something I suggested.” Spencer’s voice had taken a tone you had never heard before, his voice was low, even and commanding. Both of you had felt personally attacked by this man and defending yourselves and your team had become an even bigger priority, if just to prove a point.

“Agents, you both need to calm down.” The male points a finger between the pair of you, giving threatening glances.

You chuckle lightly, turning to your left as Spencer leans forwards, towards the microphone.

“We are calm, and we are both Doctors.” You face forwards, crossing your arms and offering the chairman a smug smile.

“The Unites States government is not in the business of trading captives.” You furrow your brows, that wasn’t true.

“Well actually-“ You’re quickly cut off by Spencer, providing you slight relief.

“New York City, July 2010, referred to as the spy swap. Igor…”

“-That’s enough.” You roll your eyes at the chairman’s unwillingness, and blatant ignorance.

“Sir, I do believe there have been exceptions made to this rule. As I mentioned before there were few outcomes that would have greater benefitted the United States government. You can’t just change the rules.” You cross and uncross your legs, under his gaze as he quickly quips back.

“And you just can’t break them.” You feel Spencer deflate slightly next to you. The high you had both received by sticking up for yourselves was quickly wearing off.

“Now, Agent L/N…” You gulp as he addresses you, fully aware of what was about to happen. “When reviewing all of this I found something extremely interesting.” You raise your eyebrow, fully accepting the fact Spencer was soon to be very mad at you.

“The signature of Emily’s forged post-mortem report looks remarkably similar to yours.” You smile slightly, at the way he beats around the bush.

“I wrote her post-mortem report.” You deadpan, trying to ignore Spencer’s eyes on you.

“Were you aware that she was actually-“

“-alive? Yes, I was fully aware that she was alive. But she wouldn’t have been if it weren’t for Hotch’s quick thinking, and I fully back my decision to write the report.”

“Don’t interrupt me agent.”

“As I’m sure Spencer previously mentioned, I am actually a doctor, not an agent. As for the PM report, there is nothing you can do about it, I was fully backed by my previous bosses, and am fully protected from the consequences. So, if that’s all sir?” You don’t wait for him to answer as you stand from your seat.

Spencer quickly stands, placing a hand on your shoulder, you go to follow him, before pausing.

“Thank you, sir. It really has been a pleasure. I will be sure to review these tapes and see how people like me, can better conduct ourselves in the future.” You stand, allowing Spencer to guide you back out of the room.

The heavy door shutting behind you, cued you to release a sigh of relief. Perfectly times with Spencer who halted, turning to face you, silently studying you.

“I’m-“ Spencer goes to speak but is quickly interrupted.

“You’re out early, how did it go.” You awkwardly stare at the ground as you walk right past Hotch, and into the women’s restrooms.

“Yeah, I didn’t think it would go too well-“ Hotch says quietly looking at Spencer, as he grimaces, watching your figure walk away.

“What happened Reid?” Spencer shakes his head, still unable to work out what the Chairman had been talking about.

“He mentioned that people like her shouldn’t be in the Bureau. I’m not sure what he meant, but he really disrespected her. She said the tapes would be ‘interesting to a lawyer.’” Hotch nods simply, humming.

“He also mentioned that you dragged her into the Emily mess- It’s like the lies don’t end Hotch.”

“Reid, she did me a favour. We needed to keep Emily safe.” Spencer stays quiet as the words sink in.

“Reid, wait up on her. We will all be called back in again. See if you can find somewhere quiet. I have to run back to the BAU.” Spencer simply nods at Hotch’s orders. Watching as he walks away.

“Y/N please, you would understand him like nobody else.” Spencer stands over you, a pleading look on your face as you contemplate giving in to him.

“Spencer, I don’t even have the accent, it’s been-“

“-awhile. I know, but you grew up in Ireland. He knows us, we are profilers. You’re sincere and you couldn’t hide your emotions if you tried, he might understand the urgency of the situation from you.” You sigh, giving in. You had only known Spencer two weeks, but dang was he hard to say no to.

“Fine.” You roll your eyes, plucking the file from his grasp, opening it and scanning it in a matter of seconds.

“We need to find out where Declan is, who his mother is, any enemies of his.” You smile, nodding as you walk towards the door, behind which was an international criminal.

The door clicks, signalling its closure and grasping Doyle’s attention, his gaze set intensely on yours.

“I’m Dr. Y/N L/N, but you can call me Y/N.” You offer him a polite smile. He looks exhausted, and even you could tell he was worried sick.

“I haven’t seen you before?” He speaks. He seems almost civil, if you hadn’t been holding the extensive list of crimes, he had committed you would thing he was just a regular human.

“I know you, well I knew you, a long time ago.” The male furrows his brows slightly at your words. You frantically try and build a rapport.

“Actually, I knew ‘of’ you.” Doyle unfurrows his brow, nodding in a silent realisation.

“You used to be the talk of every town in both Ireland, and Northern Ireland.” You whisper, remembering all the time the news had pegged an IRA bombing on him, on ‘Valhalla’.

“You’re Irish, I assume.” Doyle speaks up as you nod.

“Yeah, I grew up in Ireland. It was scary, I can’t imagine how scary it would have been if I was a wanted terrorist.” You sigh, taking a seat opposite to Doyle, pulling your knees up to your chest.

Doyle chuckles, leaning forwards.

“Ní hiad na gardaí a bhí eagla orm.” You sigh, nodding, he wanted to catch you out.

“Bhí naimhde agat?” You phrase it as more of a statement, it was an obvious answer. But you were seriously hoping he would elaborate.

You try to hold back a smug smile as Doyle’s eyes widen in shock at your words.

“Aye, that’s proof alright.” You say, chuckling lightly as a small smile settles on his face.

“Doyle, I know you’re aware of this, but we are trying to find Declan.” You pause, opening the file in his lap.

“He’s in a lot of danger, and I need to know if you know anyone who could have done this at all. We are running out of time.” Doyle nods.

“I had a lot of enemies, you said it yourself.” You smile sympathetically.

“Listen, what about his mother? Could it be her, an enemy; I think I have heard of something about McDermott’s in the past?” You watch as Doyle tenses up.

“Declan’s mother died in childbirth.” You watch his face, contort slightly as he says it.

“What was her name?” Doyle’s gaze flicks up towards you.

“Chloe Donaghey.” You pause, nodding your head slightly. You had heard that name recently, certainly after Declan was born. Your thoughts are interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. It opens to reveal Spencer who ushers you out of the room.

You stand opposite the male, a sigh escaping your lips. You can feel his eyes on you, silently studying you.

“Chloe Donaghey, is not dead.” You blurt it out as the realisation overcomes you. You turn your gaze upwards to see Spencer’s lips parting.

“I remember it, a couple of years ago now, definitely after Declan was born.” Spencer’s brows furrow, as his gaze follows you. Slowly you make your way to a wall, sliding down it and sitting on the floor. Your hands find your head as you sit cross-legged.

“Uhm- The news one night, it said that a massive human trafficking ring had been caught, and that a suspect was Chloe Donaghey. She wouldn’t be a suspect if she were dead?” You practically whisper the last part to Reid, who was now crouched down in front of you, a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re right.” Spencer offers you a small smile. You both pause at the sound of the door opening and shutting, Emily walks through, making her way into the room with Doyle, offering you both a quick smile.

“Spencer, he’s just a kid, he doesn’t deserve any of this.” Your voice was now but a whisper, your words cracking as you try and hold yourself together.

Spencer sighs, sitting down on the floor opposite you.

“He doesn’t, but you just got us a lead, and that’s one lead closer to saving him.” You nod, as Spencer reassuringly pats your shoulder.

“We can do this.” You aren’t sure if Spencer’s trying to convince you, or himself, but he whispers the words none the less. For some reason, they don’t fail to give you hope.

The sound of a running tap fills your ears as you frantically move to splash cold water on your face. Attempting anything you can to calm you down, ground you.

You gratefully feel your cheeks cool at the contact of the cold water. You drag yourself upright, looking in the mirror. You hadn’t worn makeup, in fact, you couldn’t remember the last time you wore makeup. It had always stressed you out to wear it and so you would forgo it. But you weren’t sure if maybe that was unprofessional.

Walking out of the restroom you see Spencer perk up, offering you a smile as he walks towards you.

“We don’t have to be back for an hour or so, do you want food?” You nod frantically, trying to contain your excitement at the prospect of food, especially since you couldn’t remember the last time you had a decent meal.

As you trailed after Reid, you faltered slightly, he wasn’t mad-?

“Let’s go-“

The ride to the diner is mostly silent, both you and Spencer relishing in the fact that you had successfully managed to stand up for yourselves, but you couldn’t help the sense of achievement washing over into one of raw emotions.

You had worked so hard to get where you were today, despite all that was wired against you. Your whole life had revolved around defying someone’s expectations, anyone’s. But for once in your life, you realised that you would never have the chance to prove this guy wrong, even if the team did get reinstated, you would never see him again; never get to show him how truly worthy you are.

The wave of frustration washes over you as you lean your head up against the passenger window of the SUV, your gaze focused on the passing cars, and buildings you were still unfamiliar with.

It was becoming dark rather quickly, the earlier nights weren’t what you were used to, but you found them comforting. Streetlights were coming to life, shops lighting up their storefronts with a neon glow as the sky began to fade to an orange.

You were clearly driving somewhere populated, as the footpaths were getting denser with the footfall of pedestrians and people who were likely finishing up their regular nine-to-five jobs. They were mostly absorbed in their bright phone screens, it made you anxious, they should be paying attention, staying safe.

The chaos of the outside world, and your own world were meshing together all of a sudden and you couldn’t help but feel as if curling away in a dark room, shedding the doubts and stress of the earlier day would make your life so much more manageable.

But the thought was quickly ripped away from you as Spencer decides to pipe up, whilst slowing the car at a red light.

“I’m sorry, for all that mess.” Spencer sounds exasperated. You turn your gaze to face him. Her ran a hand through his curly hair, pushing his sunglasses further up his nose, shielding himself from the bright sun laying low in the sky.

You offer him a quick smile, praying he wouldn’t press matters any further.

“It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault.” You practically whisper the words and force yourself to hide your shock over the fact Spencer actually heard you.

“It’s just… I know what it’s like-“ You furrow your brows in confusion, watching as Spencer’s gaze fixates on you registering your expression. He turns back to the road, accelerating past the now-green traffic light before clarifying.

“-to be different, I mean.” He sounds anxious, and begins fidgeting, tapping his fingers rhythmically against the steering wheel as you slowly exhale.

“Yeah, I guess. I spent my life trying to blend in, but people don’t see me, they see the piece of paper in their hands.” Spencer nods, looking as though he’s deep in thought.

“What does the paper say?” You swallow harshly at this. Spencer sounds almost pensive, as if he’s expecting something you can’t quite anticipate yourself.

“He read it out. I can’t carry… well not yet.” You quickly scramble to cover your tracks, not well, but as best as you could. Spencer could tell you were lying, that was his whole job.

“No… I… It’s just you seem, uhm, deflated. That’s all.” Spencer’s gaze turns to you, and you feel it soften as you move your hands away from your head, and to your lap. Carefully you weave and unravel your fingers, wringing out your hands as if they were a wet rag.

“It’s nothing Spencer, why would you feel like you have to know everything?!” You shock even yourself at your sharp turn. Begging yourself not to wince, you hang your head, your gaze on your lap. The familiar slowing of the SUV calms you as you realised Spencer was pulling into a carpark. You didn’t want to anger Spencer any more than you had likely already.

“Y/N-“ Spencer’s voice is shockingly soft as he reverses the car into a parking spot, and stalling it, turning off the ignition. You try to keep your gaze on your lap, focusing on your hands as you entwine them.

“Y/N?” His questioning tone makes you look up towards him as he offers you a small smile, his eyes full of something resembling concern. You weren’t a snippy person, in fact, you didn’t often have outbursts of anger or frustration. It felt foreign coming from your lips and Spencer knew that.

“I don’t have to know; you don’t have to tell me anything. I also arguably don’t know everything, but what I do know is that we are a team. We rely on each other, and we can’t help one another or function efficiently if we don’t.” Spencer pauses, as you gaze past him, unable to meet his gaze, but he decided to continue none-the-less.

“It’s also well-known information that repressing emotions, can decrease work ethic, and morale. I know you haven’t been with us long, but uhm, we are all very close. We want the best for one another, and that includes you.” Spencer faces forwards again in his seat, as you return your gaze to the window.

The diner sits across the parking lot, the neon lights searing your eyes. If you were being honest, you would have loved to tell Reid, but you couldn’t lose more people’s faith; not today.

“How about we takeaway and eat in the car?” You nod silently at that. Spencer had been expecting you to open up, but you hadn’t, and it made you feel guilty. He was right, he always was, but you couldn’t bring yourself to disclose any more of yourself than you already had today.

Spencer quickly asks you your order, you simply asking for large fries and a Diet Coke, knowing that you just needed something you were guaranteed to like. Spencer quickly stood from the SUV, locking the doors behind him as he walked towards the diner, disappearing inside.

Spencer returns clutching various take-away bags fairly quickly, which is surprising considering that it’s dinner time and the place should be packed. In fact, it was packed. Through the windows you could see the queue of people, making you suspicious.

“Spencer, how were you so quick?” You drag your eyes away from the diner and towards the male now manoeuvring his lanky limbs into the car. A small smirk settled on his face as he seated himself, handing you a takeaway bag.

“Spencer!” You rolled your eyes as you came to the realisation that he had flashed his badge, but all the male did was chortle, digging through the contents of his bag.

“We would have been late otherwise.” He sighs as he pulls a cone of fries out of the greasy paper bag, placing one in his mouth.

You grin, curiously scouring through the bag to find that Spencer had gotten you a burger alongside your fries. Opening your mouth to ask why, he beat you to it.

“I haven’t seen you eat in two days Y/N.” You shake your head in disagreement, but your gaze says otherwise. You pull the burger out of its box, taking a bite. God were you hungry.

The burger was fairly plain, decked out in lettuce and onions, a safe bet. But boy did it taste amazing, you relished in the taste of an actual warm meal, taking sips of your drink to pace yourself.

The SUV was filled with the smell of fast food as the pair of you practically absorbed the food in your laps. Both of you passively glancing at the time, to ensure you wouldn’t be late back to the academy. You had one final briefing with the team and the board of trustees, and then you would return to the BAU to hear the verdict of the trial.

“Spencer?” You whisper, your earlier thoughts spiralling slightly. Spencer’s gaze falls on you as you fiddle with your last few fries, no longer hungry.

“What happens if you all don’t get reinstated?” You fail to cover the anxiety in your voice as Spencer gathers up the various cardboard cartons from your lap, throwing them in a plastic bag.

“I’m not sure Y/N. I was suspended so I imagine I would be transferred or fired.” You nod slowly at Spencer who offers you a solemn grin.

“It’s just been a difficult few weeks. I can’t even begin to imagine how you, and everyone else must feel.” You sigh, pulling your knees to your chest, resting your head on them. You feel the engine of the car start up as Spencer pulls out of the parking lot, driving you back to the harsh reality of the BAU’s current state.

“I know, it’s not normally like this.” This makes you chuckle, obviously the reaction Spencer was seeking because he offers you a genuine smile.

“It’s just, I haven’t really got to know anyone. I arrived, and you all were chasing some IRA man and then I interviewed him and did paperwork, meanwhile you were all grieving a loss.” Spencer nods, solemnly.

“I’m really sorry about the breakroom Y/N, I was just stressed out and took it out on you.” You nod.

“It’s fine Spencer, I snapped at you earlier. We’re even.” You offer him you best smile, however the smile remains insufficient in its purpose, failing to conceal the wash of emotions behind it.

“The BAU survives Y/N, we always do.”

“This team took many unprecedented risks, none were approved.” The chairman’s gaze remains fixed on you for a moment, before trailing down the line of people. At the table both you and Spencer had sat at earlier, now sat the whole team. You sat closely beside Spencer on the end. Relishing in the reassuring glances he would give you every few minutes.

“The DIOG has rules, and you chose to ignore every last one.” You can’t help but feel your breath hitch in your throat, it wasn’t looking good.

“That’s a blatant disrespect to the Bureau, and to authority of law in general.” You watch as Spencer crosses his legs, leaning back in his seat. You couldn’t deal with the anticipation. Your hands found the hem of your skirt, fiddling with it in an attempt to distract yourself.

“What I find interesting is that you are the experts in behaviour but find nothing wrong with yours.”

You watch as Emily pipes up, speaking out to the uninterested panel in front of her.

“May I?” The bored Mr. Cramer, whose nametag you had studied, grimaces as Emily decides to continue.

“The journey was not traditional, but this team neutralised four international criminals and saved a young boy’s life in the process.” You offer a quick smile in Emily’s direction. You had a great respect for her, she had been forced to fake her own death only to return to save a young boy who she cared so greatly for. She didn’t have it easy.

“You started a war with Ian Doyle years ago, that this team, and the US Government had to finish. The rest of you are dismissed. Agent Prentiss, we are not done.” You stood, quicker than the rest, feeling the awkwardness of being the only one standing hitting you like a wave.

Spencer quickly came to your rescue however, standing up and guiding you out of the room as quickly as he could without causing distraction, the rest of the team following in your footsteps.

“Maybe Emily can talk some sense into him?” You can’t tell who you are trying to reassure, the rest of the team, or yourself.

“Y/N, I’ll drive you back to the BAU, everyone else can split up among the other two SUV’s.” Hotch’s voice rings out throughout the crowd, all of which, besides, you, are chatting among themselves.

The drive was only across the campus, no longer than five minutes but Hotch made good use of the time, quizzing you.

“I assume Mr. Cramer tried to use your situation against you?” You roll your eyes slightly at the memory.

“Yeah.” You certainly didn’t feel like talking about it, but you knew you were going to have to.

“Spencer didn’t understand.” This makes you perk up as you silently thank whatever higher power there was.

“I had hoped so, he didn’t explicitly mention it. He was definitely scared of a lawsuit.” Hotch turns to you, looking slightly surprised as he stops the car, getting out. You followed suit.

You both walk through the familiar doors of the BAU, greeting security.

“You threatened him with a lawsuit?!” Hotch sounds rather shocked as you laugh, calling the elevator.

“No, I just asked him if the meetings were being recorded, to which he moved swiftly onwards.” Hotch laughed at this, offering you a smile.

The elevator pinged, indicating your arrival on the sixth floor. Traipsing through the doors you watched as the rest of the team turned to greet you both.

You paid little attention to them however, making a break for the coffee machine in the breakroom, where you hurried along in making yourself a caffeine-loaded beverage.

You chugged the coffee as if it had the answer to life itself, quickly making yourself a second cup before noticing the team all filing into the round-table room behind Strauss. That’s when a small realisation played in your mind, the verdict was in.

You sighed, debating whether or not to follow them, your job wasn’t on the line and to be brutally honest you didn’t feel good. You didn’t want to be there when Strauss told them they were all being transferred, or that you had single-handedly ruined their chances at reinstatement. So, with that you headed towards the elevator, pressing the button to take you down to the basement.

You sighed, pulling your hair out of your face, and into a messy bun, as you entered through the front desk, making your way down to the morgue. You turned through the staff door and into the gallery, pausing slightly to see the cutting room exactly as you left it.

You made your way out the gallery and onto the cutting room floor, you paused. Your clothing was uncomfortable, but you always kept a change of clothes in your locker, sweatpants, and a hoodie. You silently thanked your past self for being so organised as you pushed through the glass doors, drawing the curtain, and quickly changing.

You relished in the silence, the only sounds being your Dr. Martens clicking against the linoleum as you trapsed back into the morgue, towards the countertops and your computer. Slumping down in a stool you opened a drawer to your left, pulling out the BAU’s medical files.

You had been working with Hotch to update them since the previous filed were outdated and samples hadn’t been logged correctly. So that was your task for the next few weeks.

The stack of files was certainly heavy, this team had been through a lot over the years. You quickly decided that you would go through them one by one, making a list of any questions or missing information that came to mind, in a Word document, as you reamed through them; in alphabetical order first up was SA. Penelope Garcia.

It was getting late, and your Word document was full of various questions and much to your dismay, various discrepancies which would need to be puzzled out by asking the team questions. You had just finished SSA. Emily Prentiss’ file, which was indeed very complex, especially considering she was legally dead according to it. But none the less you moved on alphabetically, picking up the file of SSA. Dr. Spencer Reid.

And boy, was it heavy reading. Spencer’s file was an enigma, wrapped in a mystery. The chaos of the file indicated that over his ten years working for the BAU he had been drug tested over 100 times, compared to his teammates who had been drug tested bi-annually, yet there was no outlined reason.

But just as you began typing you heard a knock on the gallery door, turning around you chuckled.

“Speak of the Devil, come in!” You beckoned Spencer in through the door, quickly scrambling to ensure that all confidential information was hidden from him.

“Speak of the devil?” You laughed.

“Yes, I was actually just going through your files, getting ready to update them.” Spencer’s eyes widened slightly as you beckoned for him to take a seat.

“They are being updated?” You laughed as the male turned to you, his brows furrowed, his brown eyes wide.

“Your physical exams are due to be redone, and these files are an atrocious mess, I can’t even find your DNA samples so yes, they are being redone.” Spencer nods slightly, shuffling his chair closer to you as he spots his own file.

“I’ve never actually seen my file-“ Spencer trails off, as he studies the first page with all his personal information.

“If you want to read it you can.” You shuffle the file closer to him, watching as he quickly scans the pages, imprinting them into his brain.

“You stand up from your seat, collecting the remaining files in your hands, and walking towards a filing cabinet. Slowly you placed each file in its designated spot, leaving Spencer’s free.

You smiled as you turned around, watching Spencer study his file intently.

“These are terrible.” Spencer sounds surprised. You hum in acknowledgement at his observation. He was right, they were terrible, in fact, you were surprised the federal government could even have files to such a terrible standard.

“Do you want a coffee, Spencer?” You watch as the man turns to you, standing from his seat.

“Yeah, that would be great.” You smile, walking through to the small break room in the gallery, turning on the coffee maker and waiting for it to brew. Spencer sits on the small sofa, seemingly studying the FBI logo that played on the TV in front of him.

“So, Spencer, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” You knew why he was here; he had the verdict, you didn’t.

“You didn’t come to the meeting.” You sigh slightly, you felt guilty that you hadn’t been there to support them, but at the same time you still didn’t feel as though you were fully a part of the team.

“Yeah. I guess I thought that it wasn’t really fair that I intrude.” You smile slightly at Spencer, moving to pour both Spencer, and yourself a mug of coffee. You pass him the black coffee, passing him a couple packets of sugar and creamer. Sitting down next to him on the sofa.

“We got reinstated.” You pause your movements, looking up at Spencer, letting a smile creep onto your face. Spencer was preoccupied, almost taking to his cup of coffee and not you, as he fumbled with the sugar packets, snatching one of your own.

“That’s great, I’m so happy for you all.” Spencer nods, taking a sip from his horrendously sweet coffee.

“Yeah, I got my gun and my badge back.” You roll your eyes, pulling your legs under you as you laugh.

“I see you have your priorities straight.” He nods, chuckling quietly to himself, his cheeks turning a slight shade of red.

Spencer was growing a fondness for you, even over the course of a single day. He had found that you were the easiest to relate to, and that you were incredibly smart. He couldn’t even find it in himself to be mad at you for helping to cover up Emily’s death.

He had also noticed that you were struggling to settle into Quantico, he had seen you so in-your-element in London that he couldn’t help but think that you had other things on your mind.

And you did, you certainly did.

Story Masterlist - (1) - (2) - (3)

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#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut

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50calmadeuce · 2 months ago

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Ch. 41: Court - Dorian Again Con't

Warning: Mention of miscarriage. Some chapters have sex.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it gives you happy thoughts.

These stories are my own, so please do not take them and use them for yourself without my permission. If you see them somewhere else, please let me know. :)

Dorian's attorney slowly approached the witness stand. "Dr. Stryker. You stated in your last statement that you and Dr. Seresin are married and the child she is currently carrying is yours."

"Yes," Dorian agreed.

Mr. Rowe walked over to his desk and grabbed a piece of paper. "I'd like to submit the marriage certificate of Dr. Stryker and Dr. Seresin."

Your eyes widened in surprise, and Dunby glanced at you. You shrugged and shook your head, equally astonished.

Mr. Rowe handed the marriage certificate to the judge, who examined it carefully before raising an eyebrow. "Mr. Rowe, this document claims that Dr. Seresin is married to Dr. Stryker, but this contradicts the testimony we’ve already heard. Do you have any explanation for this?"

Mr. Dunby stood up, visibly irritated. "Your Honor, this is clearly fraudulent. Dr. Seresin has already testified about her marriage to Lieutenant Jake Seresin. This document cannot be legitimate. I have right here the marriage certificate of Jake and Y/N Seresin."

The judge nodded as the bailiff walked over and grabbed the paper from Mr. Dunby and walked it over to the judge.

Dorian’s attorney remained calm. "Your Honor, we believe that this document will prove to be genuine and that it was obtained under legally binding circumstances."

The judge reviewed both marriage certificates, his expression growing more serious with each passing moment. "Mr. Rowe, I now have two conflicting marriage certificates in front of me. One for Dr. Y/N Seresin and Lieutenant Jake Seresin, and another for Dr. Y/N Seresin and Dr. Dorian Stryker. This is a serious matter, and we will need to resolve this discrepancy immediately."

Mr. Dunby stepped forward. "Your Honor, we request that the so-called marriage certificate between Dr. Stryker and Dr. Seresin be reviewed by a forensic document expert. It’s clear to me that Dr. Stryker is attempting to manipulate this court, and my client has already testified to the truth."

Dorian sat quietly, his eyes fixed on you, while his attorney tried to regain control of the situation. "Your Honor, we are confident that the authenticity of this document will hold up under scrutiny. Dr. Stryker and Dr. Seresin have a complicated history, and we ask that the court consider all the facts before passing judgment."

The judge leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "Very well. I will order an immediate review of these documents. Until we have clarity on this issue, we will adjourn for the day. Court will reconvene tomorrow at 9 AM."

With that, he banged his gavel, and the tension in the room broke as people began to file out. You, still in shock, couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to get even more complicated.

You walked out of the courthouse with Mr. Dunby, Max and Chuck right behind.

Dunby stopped and looked at you. "Where the hell did he get a marriage certificate with your name on it?"

You shrugged. "I have no clue. I know I signed a lot of stuff during the first time we worked together and when we created the book."

Mr. Dunby rubbed his temples, clearly frustrated. "We’ll need to go over everything you signed back then. He might have slipped something in without you realizing."

Max stepped in. "If he forged your signature or tricked you into signing something, we’ll find out. Dorian's desperate, and he's trying to pull every trick in the book."

Chuck chimed in, his voice steady. "We’ll get to the bottom of this, Doc. No way he can get away with something like this."

You nodded, feeling a mix of frustration and disbelief. "I just don’t understand how he managed to pull this off. I mean, I’ve only ever been married to Jake."

Dunby sighed, his expression growing more determined. "We’ll look into every document tied to that time. If he slipped something into the paperwork, we'll catch it. You’re only married to Jake, and we'll prove that in court." He pat your shoulder. "I'll stop by later and we'll go over some things."

"You might as well just come over for dinner. I know how much you enjoy Chuck's cooking." You took a deep breath, grateful for the support from all of them. "Thanks, all of you. I’m just ready to put this nightmare behind me."

Max added, "And we will. One step at a time."

Dunby looked at you. "Have you spoken to Jake lately?"

You shook your head. "No and I have no clue where he is or what he's doing. Welcome to being married to a fighter pilot."

Dunby reached out and placed his hand on your shoulder. "It's okay. We may not need him, but if you talk to him, give him my information."

You nodded. "I will."

"Now. Go and get some rest. I'll see you later."

As you nodded and walked away from the courthouse, you felt the weight of everything that had happened so far. The day had been overwhelming, but you knew that rest was necessary if you were going to continue fighting tomorrow.

Later that evening, Dunby stopped by and the two of you sat on the couch. He pulled some papers out of his brief case and set them down in front of you.

"Do you recognize these?"

You looked at one that said Wyoming Marriage Certificate. It had your signature along with Dorian's.

You shook your head. "No. I don't."

You looked at the date. "This apparently was done while I was working on the grant then."

"And what about this one?" he asked as he set another marriage certificate in front of her. This one said Texas Marriage certificate.

"Yeah! I had to sign that after the officiant married Jake and I."

Dunby nodded, his brow furrowed in thought as he studied both documents. "The Texas certificate is legitimate, no doubt about that. But this Wyoming one… it looks convincing, but if you don't remember signing it, something's not right."

You stared at the Wyoming certificate, feeling a mix of confusion and anger. "I never married Dorian. I would remember something like that."

Dunby leaned back, tapping his fingers on the arm of the couch. "I believe you. But we’ll need to prove that this Wyoming certificate was forged or obtained under false pretenses. The timing, with you working on the grant, could have been when he slipped this in without your knowledge."

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "It makes sense, I signed so many things back then. I didn’t read every little thing, and I trusted him professionally."

"We’ll dig deeper," Dunby assured you.

Your cellphone rang and you looked to see who it was. It was Jake!

You answered and placed him on speaker phone.

"Hey, babe!" you answered excitedly. "You're on speaker phone and you called at the perfect time. Mr. Dunby wants to talk to you.

"Hey, darlin'. That's fine."

You held the phone out towards Mr. Dunby.

"Hello, Lieutenant Seresin," he said.

"Mr. Dunby. How is the case going?" Jake asked curiously.

"Well, that's what I want to talk about. I know you and Y/N didn't really talk much for four years, but Dr. Stryker brought up a marriage certificate between him and Y/N while she was in Wyoming."

Jake sighed and you could tell he was upset. "Is it legit?"

"It looks like it, but we also have your marriage certificate from Texas."

"Then you should be fine."

"Yes and I hate to ask this, but you didn't file for a divorce while separated, did you?"

"No. I wouldn't do that. I may have been a shitty husband for four years, but I would've talked to Y/N if I wanted that."

Mr. Dunby nodded, clearly relieved. "That’s good to hear, Jake. We just needed to be sure. This whole situation with Dr. Stryker is complicated enough, and the last thing we need is any confusion about your marriage."

Jake's jaw tightened, clearly frustrated. "I can't believe this guy is pulling this kind of stunt. How did he even manage to get her signature?"

"That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Y/N doesn’t remember signing anything like that. It might have been slipped in with other documents when they were working together," Dunby explained.

Jake sighed.

"Lieutenant. Is there any way you could come to the hearing? Even if it's virtual?"

"I can talk to my superior and let you know."

"That would be great. I'll let you talk to Y/N now." Mr. Dunby stood up and went to the kitchen.

You took the phone off of speaker and placed it to your ear. "Ok. It's just me now."

"How are you holding up, Y/N?"

You sighed. "As best as I can."

Jake's voice softened. "I wish I could be there with you. This whole thing sounds like a mess."

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. "It is. I never expected Dorian to pull something like this, especially not with a fake marriage certificate. It's exhausting."

"I know," Jake replied, his tone filled with concern. "But you’re strong, and we’ll figure it out. I hate that I can’t be there right now, but you’re not alone in this."

"Thanks," you whispered. "It helps to hear you say that. I just want all of this to be over."

"I meant what I said, Y/N. I may have been a douche of a husband for four years, but if I did want a divorce, I would've talked to you in person."

"I know, Jake," you acknowledged.

"I don't know how I got so lucky to have someone like you in my life."

You smiled. "You're not the only lucky one, Jake," you said softly.

"I love you, Y/N. I'm going to go talk to Maverick and see what I can do to help with this trial," he said.

"I love you, too. Let me know what you find out."

"I will. Talk to you later."

With that, he hung up his phone.

Tags: @buckysteveloki-me @bellyliveslife @tgmreader @callsign-barbelle @86laura11 @dizzybee03 @kmc1989 @guacam011y @nerdgirljen @hookslove1592 @dempy @djs8891 @smoothdogsgirl @devil-angel-winchester

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n1angi · 1 month ago

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Shrouded in Darkness

CHAPTER 3 : BOUCHE

previous chapter | next chapter

Will Graham x AFAB character x Hannibal Lecter (Polyamory)

Summary:

In the heart of Baltimore, forensic analyst Sidonie Renard navigates the shadows of crime scenes, concealing her loneliness behind a composed facade. Drawn into a web of intrigue, she captures the attention of profiler Will Graham and the enigmatic Hannibal Lecter.

Word count: 3,9k

Chapter Warning: Murder, Blood, Gore.

The following day arrived, and the routine remained unchanged. They examined the found evidence and documented it together.

It was a peaceful day, thankfully devoid of any new murders. The four of them split into pairs to examine the bodies.

The lab door creaked open, revealing Will Graham with a cup of coffee in hand. He approached Brian and Jimmy, observing the corpse. Will donned gloves and joined them.

“What were they soaking in?”

“A highly concentrated mixture of hardwoods, shredded newspaper, and pig poop. Perfect for growing mushrooms and other fungi,” Jimmy explained, as Brian pointed at the kidney.

“It wasn't the mushrooms though. They all died of kidney failure,”

“Dextrose in all the catheters. He probably used some kind of dialysis or peristaltic to pump fluids after the circulatory systems broke down,” Beverly suggested, moving closer to the group. Will glanced briefly at Sidonie, who seemed to be engrossed in her work.

“Force-feeding them sugar water,” he concluded, turning back to Beverly.

“You know who loves sugar water? Mushrooms. They crave it” Jimmy chimed in.

“Recovering alcoholics crave sugar. Uh, don’t take that personally,” Brian teased Jimmy, prompting a smile from Beverly.

“I'm not recovering,” Jimmy retorted with a smirk.

“But alcoholics aren't the only ones with compromised endocrine systems.” Will mumbled as his expression shifted into a realization. “They all died of kidney failure? Death by diabetic ketoacidosis?”

Beverly to raise an eyebrow at Brian.

“Did you know they were diabetics?” she inquired.

“We don't know.”

“No, they are all diabetics,” Will confirmed, shaking his head. “He induces a coma and puts them in the ground,” Beverly couldn't help but smile at his deduction.

“How is he inducing diabetic comas?”

“Changes their medication. He's a doctor or a pharmacist or works somewhere in medical services,”

“He buries them, feeds them sugar to keep them alive long enough for the circulatory systems to soak it up,” Beverly summarized.

“So he can feed the mushrooms,” Jimmy added.

“We dug up his mushroom garden,” Brian lamented.

“He'll want to grow a new one,” Will remarked before leaving the room to inform Jack about their discovery.

Sidonie gently pulled a red hair from the corpse, recognizing it immediately.

“What's that?” Beverly asked, taking a step towards Sidonie.

“Freddie Lounse,” she replied, storing the hair in a small container. Brian glanced up at the name.

“How did she get there before us?” Beverly wondered, looking around.

“She has her ways…" Sidonie shrugged. “It’s a surprise she hasn’t been caught for contaminating the crime scene. It’s not like she hasn’t done this before.”

“Wait...” Jimmy stepped closer, examining the hair. “Doesn’t it look like the one found in Minnesota?” Everyone turned to him. Beverly groaned slightly.

“She was there too.”

Brian stayed silent, listening to the conversation unfold.

“Should we inform Jack, or...?” Jimmy wondered aloud.

“It will be wise to report it,” Sidonie suggested, her gaze returning to the corpse. A suspicion crossed her mind. “Maybe there's someone in B.A.U. leaking information. How else would she know about the locations?”

“You are right.” Beverly nodded. “It’s best if Jack knows.”

Jack Crawford and Will Graham, accompanied by other agents, approach the serene-looking pharmacy. Jack briefs Will.

“She's the chain’s 10th diabetic customer to disappear after filling a prescription for insulin, second from disappear from this exact location.”

“The other eight.”

“All over the county. One pharmacist has been all over the county, too,” Jack replies.

“A floater, huh?”

“Floater's floating right there. Still logged into his workstation,” Jack remarks, as the armed agents approach the pharmacy counter. Upon noticing the FBI agents, individuals raise their hands. Some of them kneel, others lean against the wall.

Jack displays his badge and announces loudly.

“Everyone. Stop what you're doing and put your hands in the air.” Will stands behind him as the pharmacists comply.

“Special Agent Jack Crawford. Which one of you is Eldon Stammets?” The pharmacist glances at his colleague beside him, looking puzzled.

“Eldon was just here. Just now,”

“His car still in the parking lot?” Will asks. The pharmacist falls silent, and Jack raises his voice, insisting.

“His car!”

Beverly and Sidonie arrive at the pharmacy, announcing their intention to review the documents and potential evidence. Brian begins examining the medicines while Jimmy and Sidonie focus on the prescriptions nearby.

Beverly checks the computer, her eyes scanning the screen until she notices something familiar recently accessed. Opening it, she discovers an article, causing her eyes to widen.

“Jimmy,” she calls out, gesturing to the screen as he approaches. He reads the title.

“I’ll go and get Jack.”

“What’s the matter?” Brian asks curiously.

“It's Freddie Lounse,” Beverly informs. Sidonie's attention is piqued upon hearing the name. Brian reads the article title. His eyes slowly look up at Sidonie.

“It’s about Will Graham and… you.”

“What?” Sidonie's brows knit together, blinking. She approaches the computer, standing between the others as she reads the article.

The headline reads, “EXCLUSIVE: 'MATCH MADE IN HELL,”. Beneath it, she comes across a picture of her where she tries to approach Will.

She continues reading about what Freddie wrote about him. The article portrays the FBI as paying a psychopath to catch another, essentially painting them as one of them.

“The esteemed profiler seems to have found himself a fitting counterpart, who is, not so surprisingly, the daughter of a murderer. What a charming pair, don't you think? After all, why else would she choose such a career path? Her knack for murder runs in the family!

Oh, but let's not forget her delightful habit of falsely accusing her colleagues, leading to their unfortunate job losses. Such dedication to spreading chaos surely speaks volumes about her upbringing. Is this how she channels her impulses? By wreaking havoc and ruining lives for sheer entertainment? Just ask her former coworkers who fell victim to her blame game, leaving them out of a job. Looks like her idea of therapy involves a little collateral damage. Daddy issues, anyone?”

Jack and Will approach them.

“Freddie Lounse,” Brian speaks hesitantly. Sidonie takes a step back from the computer. Her expression shows a hint of a frown, but she quickly smoothens it, maintaining a composed demeanor.

Beverly informs Jack she can’t read it out loud because it goes into detail, so Jack reads it quietly. Will does the same. As Jack finishes, he curses.

“Son-of-a-bitch,” he mumbles. Silence falls upon the group.

Will looks at Sidonie, curious about her reaction to the article.

Without a complete understanding of her history and actions, likely exaggerated due to Freddie Lounse's article, the potential parallels between Sidonie and Abigail Hobbs provided a faint sense of comfort.

Jack hadn't factored in Sidonie's past, but regardless of this Will couldn’t help but relax slightly at the thought of her hastily judging Abigail.

Sidonie sensed Will's gaze on her. Looking at him, their eyes locked. His deep blue hues met her olive green ones for the first time.

A wave of anxiety and discomfort washed over her. Quickly averting her gaze, she excused herself, stepping back to catch some fresh air.

Hannibal sat at his desk, his posture upright but his gaze downcast as he read a recent article by Freddie Lounds. His attention lingered on the image of the unfamiliar woman depicted in the article.

After reading it through, he closed the page with a slight shake of his head.

“You are naughty Miss Lounds.”

Sidonie sat at the table, pen in hand, diligently jotting down the evidence they had gathered from the pharmacy earlier that evening. Her gaze drifted over the paper as she wrote, though her mind wandered elsewhere, causing her to shift in her seat and blink, trying to refocus.

With a firm grip on the pen, she clenched her jaw slightly, meticulously labeling the evidence and noting its details, such as location, custody, and packaging.

As she glanced at one of the photos of the evidence, memories of Will Graham's acknowledging look after reading the article flooded her mind, eliciting a sense of irritation.

She disliked the sudden attention drawn to her past, especially due to Freddie Lounse's article. It seemed history was repeating itself, and she found the notion unsettling.

The door creaked open, and Jack Crawford entered the dimly lit lab, the sound of his footsteps echoing.

Sidonie's eyes darted to him, surprised by his sudden presence, which put her on edge.

“Agent Crawford.”

“I took care of Freddie Lounse. The article has been removed,” he informed her, prompting Sidonie to relax her shoulders slightly, unaware of how tense she had been. “I ensured she won't write about you again.”

“Thank you,” she replied, though her gratitude was tinged with doubt.

“She confessed she was in Minessoda.” Jack continued, recalling the earlier report the team gave him on the case. Sidonie nodded as silence loomed over the room.

“I assume you've had dealings with her before?” Jack inquired, prompting Sidonie to sign, as she crossed her arms.

“Unfortunately,” Jack mirrored her posture, prompting for more information. “She wrote an article about me, back when I worked in law enforcement.”

“And when was this?”

“A few years ago,” Sidonie replied, her tone curt. “After I reported some of my coworkers for misconduct, including breaking protocols and involvement in drug-related offenses. Agent Lawson ensured everything was documented. You can check if you are curious.”

“You sure do have a knack for reasoning everything with evidence,” Jack remarked with a lighter tone.

She chuckled softly, though her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

“It just comes naturally to me, I guess,”

“I'm not questioning you. I trust Harold's judgment of you. That's why you're here,” Jack assured her.

Her former boss had always spoken highly of her, acknowledging her hard work, and she was grateful for the recognition.

“However, I don’t get one thing. Why would they speak ill of you?” Jack inquired, taking a step closer.

“Because it's easier to shift blame onto someone else for your own mistakes,” she replied, meeting Jack's gaze. “Especially someone with a background.”

Jack's expression tightened slightly, a hint of discomfort flickering across his features.

“Did they know?”

“When you're looking for someone to blame, you'll dig up anything you can find.”

A heavy silence settled over the room as Jack nodded, his eyebrows raised in understanding.

Sidonie turned to her notebook, her handwriting from earlier appearing shaky as she glanced at it.

“I'd like to ask you a favor.” Jack began, catching her attention. She had a suspicion of what he might be hinting at after their conversation. “You and Abigail Hobbs share some, overlapping aspects in your past. I want you to talk to her,” he requested.

Bingo.

“You have Will Graham, a man with an empathic mind who can understand anyone. I'm sure he can determine if Abigail Hobbs was involved in her father's actions,” Sidonie reasoned.

“Convincing him to see things differently is a challenge. You've seen it yourself,” Jack responded, causing Sidonie to lean back on the table, feeling hesitant about the idea.

“Why do you doubt Will Graham?”

“I doubt his judgment regarding Hobbs's daughter, not him. Guilt can cloud anyone.”

Sidonie looked away slightly, acknowledging the truth in his words. Guilt was indeed a powerful blinder.

“According to the regulations, Abigail should have a psychologist,” Sidonie pointed out.

“She will.”

“Agent Crawford It’s beyond my duties to accept such a request. A psychologist should be able to figure out if she's hiding something.”

“Would you have more faith in someone who has experienced similar circumstances or someone attempting to understand them? Or are you perhaps also convinced that she is innocent? Is this something personal Agent Renard?” Jack countered, raising his eyebrows and inclining his head slightly.

Sidonie stared at him for a moment, aware of the implication.

Despite her irritation at Jack's request, she knew better than to let her emotions cloud her judgment, especially when dealing with someone in authority. She sighed deeply.

“I'm certain Will Graham won't be pleased with this plan.”

“I'll talk to him. Or I'll get Hannibal to do it.”

Sidonie shook her head slightly, as she turned around. She had deduced that Hannibal was a psychiatrist who had been present at Hobbs's death with Will.

The idea of an unknown presence unsettled her.

“I doubt he'll warm up to the idea,”

“He'll have to adjust,”

“Accusing someone without evidence is just as serious as proclaiming a killer's innocence,” she reminded him, giving him a meaningful look. “I don't want my professional reputation to suffer because of actions I took while I was asked to fulfill certain duties,” Sidonie stated firmly.

Jack observed her, biting inside his cheek.

He admired how she stood her ground while staying professional. He got why she hesitated. Her reputation had taken hits from her dad and old colleagues. More rumors or hostility could harm her credibility, affecting not just her job now but what comes next.

“I'll ensure history doesn't repeat itself,”

Rejecting Jack's proposal didn't seem like the wisest choice for her. She understood that refusing him could potentially strain their professional relationship, especially given Jack's reaction to Will Graham's statement about Abigail.

As Sidonie pondered the copycat killer and its potential link to the Hobbs family, she wondered if there could be some connection there.

She recalled Will mentioning an unidentified phone call during the lecture.

She collected her notebook, signaling the end of the conversation.

“You won't be able to repair my reputation if things go wrong.”

“It won't,” Jack asserted confidently.

"Goodnight, Agent Crawford," Sidonie bid farewell as she left the office, her footsteps echoing on the ground.

Jack watched her go, knowing she had accepted the offer.

In the dimly lit hospital room, Will Graham sits quietly, his gaze fixed on Abigail Hobbs, who lies comatose in her bed. Suddenly, the sound of hooves echoes through the hallway, drawing Will's attention to the door. A large black stag passes by, ignoring him completely.

Will rises from his seat and follows the animal's path. It disappears into one of the rooms just as the hallway lights begin to dim. Will remains still, closing his eyes slowly.

When he opens them again, he hears a soft, familiar voice.

Alana is there, reading a book to the unconscious Abigail. Will looks around the room, noticing a blanket draped over him that he doesn't remember putting on. He rests his head on the arm of the couch, listening quietly to Alana.

After a moment, he sighs softly, interrupting her.

“What are you reading?” Alana glanced back at Will, then returned her gaze to the book.

“Flannery O'Connor. When I was Abigail's age I was obsessed. I even tried to raise peacocks because she raised peacocks, but they're really stupid birds.”

“You could be reading to a killer,” Will remarked lowly, shifting slightly.

“Innocent until proven guilty and all that,” Alana replied, closing the book nervously. Will noticed her hesitation. “I'm about to broach the subject of that “match made in hell” article.”

He briefly glanced at Abigail, recalling the discomfort he and Sidonie had shared over the article. Will shifted in his seat.

“Oh, that. Did Jack send you?”

“No, I send me,” she smiled, causing a slight swell in Will's heart.

“I don't think we've ever been in a room alone together. Have we?” Will remarked.

“I haven't noticed. Have we?” Alana's voice was lighter. She glanced between Will and Abigail, smiling. “Not that we're necessarily alone now.”

Will lifted his head, stretching slightly. His hair was tousled, and his eyes were partially closed.

“Back to… Jack Crawford's crime gimp,”

“It certainly creates an image, I don't need to talk about it if you don't.”

“No, no we can talk about or not talk about whatever you want" he assured her, smiling slightly and signing with a hint of uncertainty. Alana looked at him, puzzled by his statement.

“Honestly… I was enjoying listening to you read,” he confessed, leaning back and flashing a smile, revealing his teeth.

Alana allowed herself a genuine smile in return.

“Abigail Hobbs is a success for you.”

Will remained silent at her statement, his gaze fixed on Abigail and her condition. His voice softened.

“She doesn't look like a success.”

“Don't feel sorry for yourself because you saved this girl's life.”

“I don't,” Will insisted, running his hands over his face. “I don't feel sorry for myself... at all,” he added after a moment, furrowing his brows as a realization dawned on him.

“I feel... good.”

Freddie Lounds, visibly shaken and blood-spattered, is attended to by paramedics while a police officer's body is wheeled toward an awaiting ambulance. She calls out to Jack.

“Miss Lounds?” Jack approaches, dismissing the officer beside him. “Are you alright?”

“Where's Will Graham?” Freddie's gaze searches the area anxiously.

“We have an eye witness to the murder. We don't need Will Graham,”

“No, that’s not why I am asking,” Freddie shakes her head, her expression troubled. Jack realizes this and instructs the officers to find Will Graham as Freddie begins to explain. “He was talking about people sharing the same properties of a fungus. Thoughts leaping from brain to brain. They mutate. They evolve.”

“What does he want with Will Graham?”

“Someone who understands him,” Freddie replies, causing Jack to pause. “Graham was right. Stammets is looking for connections.”

“What did you tell him?” Jack's tone is firm, demanding answers. “I need to know exactly what you told Eldon Stammets about Will Graham.”

“I told him about the Hobbs girl,” Freddie admits, her eyes distant.

“What exactly did you tell him?”

“Everything," Freddie confesses. “He wants to help Will Graham connect with Abigail Hobbs. He's going to bury her.”

The hospital elevator doors slide open, and Will Graham steps out. His phone rings, and he answers it, listening intently to Jack's voice. His expression shifts, a hint of concern creeping in.

He quickly tucks his cell phone into his back pocket and reaches into his pants, retrieving a revolver. With measured steps, he makes his way into Abigail's room.

The room is empty. No Eldon Stammets. No Abigail Hobbs.

Will's thoughts race as he backs out into the hallway and approaches the reception desk. He looks at the nurse and asks for answers, his tone urgent.

“Where is she? Abigail Hobbs. The girl in this 408. Where is she?”

“They took her for tests,” she stammers nervously.

“Who took her? Who took her?!” Will's frustration mounts, his face turning to annoyance. Without waiting for an answer, he dashes down the hallway, gun in hand.

Bounding down the stairs, Will rushes through the hallway, his eyes scanning for Eldon.

“Hey!” he shouts upon spotting him, aiming. Eldon turns, and his shoulder is suddenly struck by a bullet.

He falls to the ground, clutching his arm in pain as his gun tumbles from his grasp. Will swiftly kicks the weapon out of reach before checking Abigail's pulse, his gaze never leaving Eldon.

“What were you planning to do with her?” he hisses through his teeth.

“We evolved from mycelium. Only reintroducing her to the concept.” Eldon explains, his voice strained with pain.

“By burying her alive?” Will's tone is sharp, his disbelief evident.

“The journalist said you understood me,”

“I don't,”

"Well, you would have. You would have. If you walk into a field of mycelium, they know you're there. They know you're there,” Eldon desperately tries to explain. “Their spores reach out for you as you pass by. I know who you're reaching for. I know,” he adds, his gaze shifting to Abigail. Will listens in silence as Eldon continues.

“Abigail Hobbs. You should have let me plant her. You would have found her in a field where she could finally reach back.”

Will’s anger is evident in his gaze, although upon hearing footsteps approach he quickly presses the emergency stop button.

He leans against the doorway as the cops, nurses, and paramedics approach.

Will stands in Hannibal's office, his back turned to the elegant man.

“When you shot Eldon Stammets... who was it that you saw?” Hannibal inquires as Will's gaze shifts nervously.

“I didn't see Hobbs,”

“Then it's not Hobbs' ghost that's haunting you, is it?” Hannibal's tone softens slightly. “It's the inevitability of there being a man so bad that killing him felt good.”

“Killing Hobbs felt Just,” Will asserts firmly, recalling the act.

“Which is why you're here. To prove that sprig of zest you feel is from saving Abigail not killing her dad.” Hannibal explains. Will closes his eyes, struggling with his thoughts.

“I didn't feel a sprig of zest when I shot Eldon Stammets,” Will argues

"You didn't kill Eldon Stammets," Hannibal clarifies, meeting Will's gaze calmly. Will clenches his jaw, reluctantly admitting.

“I thought about it. I'm still not entirely sure that wasn't my intention of pulling the trigger,” he confesses, turning to look at Hannibal, searching for his reaction. Hannibal remains composed, offering no visible response.

“If your intention was to kill him, it's because you understand why he did the things he did. It's beautiful in its own way. Giving voice to the unmentionable.”

Their eyes meet for a moment. Will shakes his head.

“I should have stuck to fixing boat motors in Louisiana,” Will jests, taking a seat. Hannibal chuckles softly.

“A boat engine is a machine. A predictable problem, easy to solve. You fail, there's a paddle. Where was your paddle with Hobbs?” Hannibal inquires, moving to sit directly across from him.

“You're supposed to be my paddle,”

“I am,” Hannibal affirms, mimicking Will's gesture.

“It wasn't the act of killing Hobbs that got you down, was it?” Hannibal pauses, letting the question linger.

Will contemplates for a moment, his thoughts racing.

“Did you really feel so bad because killing him felt so good?”

“I liked killing Hobbs,” Will confesses.

Hannibal leans in, a sense of satisfaction evident in his demeanor. Though his expression remains unchanged, there's a subtle understanding in his voice.

“Killing must feel good to God, too. He does it all the time, and are we not created in his image?” Will avoids the question, looking down at his hands.

“That depends on who you ask,”

“God's terrific. He dropped a church roof on thirty-four of his worshippers last Wednesday night in Texas, while they sang a hymn.”

“Did God feel good about that?” Will asks.

Hannibal pauses, locking eyes with Will and tilting his head slightly.

“He felt powerful.”

Jack entered the lab, taking in the busy scene of forensic analysts at work. Beverly greeted him and informed him that the evidence had been handed over.

Jack scanned the room and spotted Sidonie, who was conversing with one of the clerks about handling specific evidence.

He called her over, and Sidonie excused herself from the clerk and approached Jack and Beverly.

“Follow me,” Jack instructed, leading the way. Sidonie glanced back at Beverly, who gave her an encouraging thumbs up.

Sidonie quickened her pace catching up with him. She stayed quiet, sensing it likely pertained to yesterday’s discussion.

As Jack opened the door to his office, she stepped in, her gaze immediately falling on a man she didn't recognize, dressed in a dark blue suit with brown stripes.

Jack closed the door behind them, ensuring it was locked.

The man turned to face them as he heard the door close, his eyes meeting Sidonie's with a hint of recognition from a photograph he had seen.

“Dr. Lecter, this is Special Agent Sidonie Renard,” Jack introduced, gesturing towards Sidonie.

“Sidonie, this is Dr. Hannibal Lecter. He will be assisting us with insights on the Painters case.”

#nbc hannibal #will x reader #will x oc #will x hannibal #will graham x oc #will graham x reader #will graham x hannibal lecter #hannibal x reader #hannibal x oc #hannibal lecter x will graham #will graham #hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x oc #hannibal lecter x reader #polyamory #slow burn #canon divergence

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capybaracorn · 7 months ago

Text

Gaza’s mass graves: Is the truth being uncovered?

Calls for an independent inquiry are mounting as more burial sites are found across Gaza, but experts say bringing the truth to light will take time.

At least 392 bodies were recovered at the Nasser Medical Complex in the southern Gaza Strip [AFP]

(11th of May 2024)

Palestinian emergency workers continue to uncover mass graves in and around three hospitals in the Gaza Strip, months after Israeli forces laid siege to them, claiming they were being used as Hamas command centres.

More than 500 bodies have been recovered with Palestinian officials saying several of them showed signs of mutilation and torture amounting to war crimes. Israel’s military has rejected the allegations as “baseless”, saying the bodies were buried by Palestinians during the fighting between Israeli forces and Hamas in the area.

The United Nations, the United States and the European Union have called for an independent investigation to determine the truth and ensure accountability. UN spokesperson Stephane Dujarric said: “It’s important that all forensic evidence be well preserved.”

But as Israel intensifies its assault on the southern city of Rafah, having closed the crossing into Egypt and preventing any possible deployment of forensic teams or equipment into Gaza, burial sites are being dug up and evidence haphazardly collected.

Experts said the disturbance of sites where proof of war crimes might lie will make the search for truth harder – yet not all hopes for justice are lost.

How is evidence being collected from the mass graves?

Three mass graves have been found at the Nasser Medical Complex in Khan Younis, three at al-Shifa Hospital in Gaza City and one at the Kamal Adwan Hospital in Beit Lahiya.

Mohammad Zaanin, a member of the Palestinian Civil Defence in Gaza, told Al Jazeera on Thursday that a fourth gravesite containing 42 bodies had been found at al-Shifa Hospital. The bodies were decomposed and unrecognisable, but some had IDs on them or were identified by relatives from clothing remnants.

Civil Defence teams have been documenting the remains through photos and videos, working with little protective gear and no forensic equipment. “We have some body bags and a little equipment to protect our hands and noses, but in reality, this is a local effort, and it puts a lot of pressure on our team,” Zaanin said.

Thani Nimr Abdel Rahman, who works with the Al Mezan Center for Human Rights in Gaza’s Jabalia refugee camp and has visited the burial sites at al-Shifa Hospital, said she witnessed the ground being excavated using bulldozers.

Before the dead are reburied at a new site, relatives of the missing search for pieces of clothing around the remains for a sign of their loved ones. At times, the corpses have been left unattended. “The dogs came to devour the bodies, and the smell was deadly,” Abdel Rahman told Al Jazeera. “[This work] requires more capabilities and forensic experts, none of which are available in Gaza.”

Has evidence of war crimes been found?

Several Civil Defence members have claimed to have found evidence of ill treatment, including torture, extrajudicial executions and unlawful killings of noncombatants that could amount to war crimes.

Rami Dababesh, a member of the Civil Defence team who took part in the exhumation work at al-Shifa Hospital, told Al Jazeera that his team had found “headless corpses”. Paramedic Adel al-Mashharawi said he saw bodies of children and women dressed in hospital garments.

Civil Defence member Mohammed Mughier said at least 10 of the bodies had been found with bound hands while others still had medical tubes attached to them. He added that additional forensic examination was needed on about 20 bodies of people who they suspect had been “buried alive”.

Yamen Abu Sulaiman, the head of the Civil Defence in Khan Younis, said some of the bodies found at the Nasser Medical Complex had been “stacked together” and showed indications of field executions having taken place. At least 392 bodies were recovered at this site alone.

Is the evidence gathered reliable?

Mass grave investigations are typically a highly complex, lengthy and expensive process, requiring significant expertise and resources. The overarching operating principle underpinning the forensic scientific approach is “do no harm” because interference with the site may prejudice the evidence.

“The first reaction from pretty much everyone is to dig the bodies up because it’s a very emotional thing,” Stefan Schmitt, a forensic scientist at Florida International University who has investigated mass graves in multiple conflicts, told Al Jazeera.

“But bodies are safer underground when it comes to identifying them and determining what happened. Particularly in this case, where the truth is so incredibly important and where all sides are propagating their own version of the events, it’s especially important to be able to determine what really took place.”

[See article for embedded video]

Digging up bodies, especially using invasive methods such as bulldozers, wipes out clues that could help determine responsibility and archaeological evidence that could reveal when a grave was dug and with what tools, Schmitt said.

Every exhumation also scatters evidence as decomposing body parts are left behind in the original burial site. Once a corpse is moved and reburied, information on where it came from can be lost.

Inaccurate information may also be added as part of the documentation process. Schmitt said misidentification by grieving relatives who are psychologically inclined to want closure is frequent in the context of war. Claims of bodies having been decapitated or buried alive were also hard to back up without autopsies being carried out.

Photographic and video evidence alone may not be sufficient to remedy confusion. For visual evidence to be viewed as reliable, a chain of custody must be ensured, Schmitt said.

The process of documentation must give a clear sense of the exhumation process both spatially and in regards to timing with pictures containing information including metadata and geolocation taken in a sequence. Shots must be framed to feature landmarks before zooming in on the details. The information is then methodically collected in a spreadsheet, from which each entry is hyperlinked to the relevant visual data.

“I have been shown pictures that came from Gaza, but I couldn’t see the chain of custody. I don’t know where they’re coming from,” Schmitt said, adding that this means he has consequently unable to give an expert opinion on what they show.

“What is happening right now is destroying evidence. I know that that’s not deliberate, but it plays into the hands of those that don’t want the truth to be told.”

Can international organisations help?

The UN has called for “a clear, transparent and credible investigation” of mass graves in Gaza. The EU backed the call, saying the discovery of bodies at the hospitals “creates the impression that there might have been violations of international human rights” while the US said it wanted the matter to be “thoroughly and transparently investigated”.

It is unclear which organisation would heed the call, or who in the future might take up the hefty task of investigating.

UN human rights spokesperson Jeremy Laurence told Al Jazeera the international body was not providing support in evidence gathering at burial sites in Gaza “because it requires specific expertise that does not exist on the ground”.

[See article for embedded video]

Is there any hope of justice for victims?

As the Rafah border crossing with Egypt remains closed, the prospects of foreign investigators being sent in to investigate allegations of war crimes appear slim.

However, not all hope for justice is lost. “What you have got, as opposed to what you haven’t got, might itself be extremely revealing,” said Geoffrey Nice, a British barrister who led the prosecution in the trial of Serbian politician Slobodan Milosevic at the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia in The Hague.

“Because you haven’t got it all doesn’t mean you haven’t got enough,” Nice told Al Jazeera about forensic scientific evidence.

In the former Yugoslavia, remains were dug up for decades, and DNA testing ensured identification even many years after the events. “Efforts on identification never end, and there is a huge body of evidence. Never worry about what you haven’t got. Use what you have got,” the barrister added.

Evidence gathered at the mass graves could point to specific offences or be merged into a broader inquiry into war crimes. An unbiased judiciary and investigatory organisation may be set up, but this will take decades of work and cost a large sum of money, requiring the support of wealthy countries.

According to Nice, should a tribunal for Gaza be set up, “it would not be sensible to have participating members from any countries that supported Israel with weapons.”

“The Israel-Gaza conflict is hopelessly sensitive. The funding body, be it the EU or someone else, has got to be prepared after having funded it to have absolutely no further engagement except when asked,” he added.

Is justice being pursued elsewhere?

Legal proceedings are also already ongoing at top courts. The International Criminal Court (ICC) in The Hague is overseeing an active investigation into the atrocities on October 7 by Hamas and the response by the Israeli military. The office of the prosecutor has jurisdiction in the Palestinian territories but has not made any public comments about the discovery of mass graves.

The International Court of Justice (ICJ), a separate court, is considering a case brought by South Africa in which Israel stands accused of committing genocide in Gaza. It will take several years to reach a verdict, during which time, the court is expected to investigate a litany of alleged offences.

Among key provisional measures issued to prevent the crime of genocide, the ICJ ordered Israeli authorities to “take effective measures to prevent the destruction and ensure the preservation of evidence” related to the allegations. It also ordered unimpeded access to humanitarian aid, which humanitarian organisations said has been blocked since the offensive in Rafah began.

“If the general conclusion of any court is that what is going on in Gaza is beyond the limits of warfare, then it is not difficult to track the chain of command back to the top,” Nice said.

Then, the barrister added, “you can start to see if there is individual responsibility.”

[See article for embedded video]

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