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arcane-fanfictions · 1 month ago

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Chapter 2: The Distance Between Us

An Arcane and Star Wars Clone Wars AU series

Well, that could’ve gone worse. Though, in reality he REALLY DID deserve it. Especially for Viktor’s sake. He’d take this punishment 900 times over in a day to defend him. Though, now that he REALLY THOUGHT ABOUT IT, his odds of now SEEING Viktor for the next few weeks would be very difficult. Seeing how the light saber polishing station was on the other side of the Jedi Temple. And… Since Viktor was also BANNED from the library for the next 5 months… Yeah, perhaps this WAS a bad idea. Viktor certainly won’t last long without being able to read, BUT being trapped in a library sure gave you a lot of access to books. Wouldn’t be hard to SNEAK one or two out~ As soon as he figured out how the blast to start his own punishment. Library duty. Nothing but sorting…reorganizing… and dusting old moldy books, data logs, ancient gross feeling scrolls... For HOURS. Gods, Viktor would have LOVED THIS. At least if HE was polishing the light sabers, he could take them apart and study their design… Sometimes their masters were painfully cruel, or perhaps brilliantly devious. Or both. Either way, this sucked.

Master Heimerdinger thought in place of his trainings for the month, dedicating his training hours FULLY to the library duties would be AN EXCELLENT lesson in respecting your elders. And ancient property. And of course, Master Marcus made a snide remark of perhaps he will ACTUALLY learn something for once. It took all his strength to NOT tell Marcus where he could shove his light saber. Though, the thought did make him grin. AND that earned him an EXTRA WEEK of his punishment. Damn, he REALLY needed to work on his poker face. His master knew him far too well. It was like he could read the thought just from that look. It sure was worth the extra week of library duty to see Marcus’s face scrunch up in fury before storming out of the room.

The first few days were rough, at best he’d barely catch a glimpse of Viktor, if at all. That was probably the worst part. Being so far from him, and just the simple glances he’d catch were enough to make him worry. But worst of all, HE didn’t need to see it. The faint whispers of Jedi masters, council members and other students all thinking they were alone, when in reality he was ducked behind a shelf or a book pile, DEFINITELY ORGANIZING BOOKS. For once his smaller size was coming in handy. Or the way their emotions and concerns wafted off them like a pheromone. It was infectious. Yet he wasn’t able to go sneak off and rat Marcus out as freely as he could before. But he had other ways to probe information…

Though he hated this punishment with a passion, it gave him the chance to offer his help and knowledge to the Jedi masters and other padawans who did come to the library. At least he could be of use or assistance. And… try and ask about Viktor in the process. Anytime he did, he only got a concerned look from the other Jedi masters, or very vague information from the padawans. All in all, it was concerning. Dodgy. Evasive. That was really bad. But regardless, at least he was killing two porgs with one stone. Whenever a Jedi would come in, he’d offer to help them locate a book or a scroll, and then go back to his tasks. OR RATHER PRETEND TO BE DOING HIS TASKS AS HE EAVESDROPPED. It was the perfect cover.

The first tidbit he caught was about 2 weeks into his punishment, about 3 of the Jedi Council were making their way through the library. He knew them by their voices and their presence. That rotten awful presence. And their haughty snotty voices. Frankly, he nearly ignored it when a single word caught his attention. MARCUS. The mention of the name nearly made him puke on the spot. And nearly run from his duties and literally go stab Marcus in the back with his light saber. Maybe he could race to a ship while tugging Viktor along… Go to that secluded lil moon Viktor wanted to… Live a quiet secluded life… His little dream plan was quickly shattered when the slippery oil stain of a voice cut through the still peaceful air. Any nearby Jedi would cast a nasty glare, pack up their things and leave VERY QUICKLY when the voice came closer. The library became barren in under 8 minutes flat.

“Did you hear? Master Marcus had gotten into hot water with his little ‘impoverish padawan…’ again. I heard there had been over 5 different Jedi who complained within the last two weeks.” The slippery and smooth voice said, feigning false concern. There was a snide laugh at the end of the comment. The grip on the spine of the book he was holding as he stood safely hidden on the other side of the bookshelf made the thick inch thick binding crumble under the Force he used. Salo. The biggest CLANKER SUCKER OF ALL. The moron couldn’t even READ, why was HE here?!

A series of gears, whirs and hisses happened before a mechanical and rigid voice spoke out, slightly stalled and slower, very deep and almost rustic sounding. If it had belonged to anyone but THAT SACK OF RUSTED BOLTS, Jayce would’ve said it was so utterly cool. But much to his misery, it belonged to the only moron willing enough to even give Salo the time of day. Bolbok.

“There has been word… That Master Marcus is about to lose his title as Jedi Master due to his negligence. The little Zaunian is… notably a concern. Zaun was deep within Sith territory, it was a huge risk bringing the child here, even IF it was years ago. The Sith’s wrath has DRASTICALLY INCREASED since that careless Bounty Hunter Vander brought the boy. Silco’s attacks were growing much more aggressive after Vander’s presence on Zaun was discovered. LET ALONE, a Force wielder of that child’s ability was taken right under their noses. That child is an omen, mark me. An omen of the darkness to come. The boy never did nor does belong here. Marcus was making subtle hints… about how to rectify the wrong. He did hint, that YOU WERE ENCOURAGING him to do it, Salo. I truly hope this is NOT something that will drag us ALL down. Whatever it is, keep us far from it.” The mechanical voice creaked, edging onto a threatening tone at the end. Rectify the wrong…? What by Janna does THAT MEAN?...

Salo gasps, as if actually offended. The faintest hint of false mortified shock made the mechanical steampunk looking being groan and roll their eyes before Salo smirked and continued on.

“Oh, don’t you worry so much, Bolbok. Marcus barely mentioned anything, all I know is he’s done. He sadly, would not give me MANY of the details. That was all he told me, the prick. I am DYING to know these details!!! The drama the scandal!! Not to mention he’s been adamant it is very important. I am sure if I get enough Juri Juice brandies in him he’ll be SPILLING all his dirty little secrets to me~.”

The metal clicks and a very loud hiss occur before heavier metal footsteps continue forward.

“DO NOT, INVOLVE US SALO. I will only warn you ONCE. I will not hesitate to report this to the Grand Master. The Council will not tolerate acts of unprompted violence, especially against a child. Though I do not agree with these choices, the Grand Master is the one who makes the final calls. And all the blood and misfortune his actions and choices will eventually fall on his shoulders. Perhaps by then, he will have no choice but to make a decision. How many lives is one child worth? We may be seeing soon. Unlike you, I will just watch and wait. Only the Force knows what comes next.”

Bolbok’s heavy mechanical steps quickly faded down the long empty corridor, as Salo huffs dismissively.

“Fine, then you will be LAST TO KNOW WHEN I FIND OUT!!” Salo shouts angrily after him, before sniffing loudly sticking his nose in the air and turns to head back the way he came. There was a pause as he stared with a scrutinizing expression at the spot where Jayce was hiding. OH, BALL SOCKETS-

“YOU- I know you’re there!! Come out this instant little wretch!!” Salo snapped angrily, stamping his foot. There was no movement, before Salo growled and finally stormed his way over, glancing left and right to where Jayce just was. Much to his dismay and embarrassment, there was no one there. Anger flared and Salo’s face flushed bright red when he was met with an empty space and a large pile of undisturbed books. Jayce struggled to stifle a giggle watching Salo throw an epic tantrum like a literal child, before he stormed off fuming and swearing. It was muffled but he caught a faint “At least no one saw…” Oh. He could not WAIT to burst that bubble. But that would have to wait.

Just for good measure, Jayce waited atop the bookshelf he had scaled up like a ladder a few extra minutes. Didn’t hurt to be cautious, especially with all these... startling rumors. Marcus was a prick and a jackass, yes, but would he stoop to… Jayce didn’t dare to finish that train of thought. Though it was enough to get him to scramble down and race as quickly as he could to the front entrance and swipe the data log on the top desk, before getting a loud “HEY COME BACK HERE YOU LITTLE DEVAINT!!!!” The twi'lek librarian called after him, as he literally ran, slide on his side and swiped the book and scroll log right from under her. His little stunt sent all the things on her golden topped ivory colored desk flying. Her pale greenish skin was all he saw as he fled on foot once he stuck the landing sliding off her desk. Jayce managed to give her a sympathetic glance. With a wave of his hand, he levitated all her belongings back onto her desk, exactly the way they were.

“I am sorry, Master Anu… But I think Viktor is in serious danger! Please, I will bring it right back I swear! I need to speak to my master immediately!!! If I am wrong, I will stay an extra week to help fix the messes I’ve made…” Jayce pleaded, his golden eyes faintly watering. Anu’s expression creased with worry, her aging features softening at his overwhelming fear. She knew. She knew how Viktor fled to the library as a safe haven, far from his master’s ire and hatred. She also knew and spoken ADAMANTLY with Master Heimerdinger about the treatment Marcus gave to such a young boy. How many times she had done her best to console the poor child when she had found him crying so many times. Or the way the past few days, he looked more shaken and ragged than normal. How even she could barely get him to speak a word, let alone even show remote interest in a book or scroll.

Something was very wrong. Jayce was a bit of a trouble maker, but he cared so deeply for the young little human child she herself was growing fond of, despite her trainings not to. With a heavy sigh, she used the Force to levitated the log from Jayce’s hands, as he stared in silent horror as it floated away. The way Jayce’s heart seemed to shatter when she did this didn’t make her stern expression waver in the slightest. With a careful and deliberate motion, she opened the log and began tapping and scrolling through it, checking it over before pausing. A curt nod was all she gave him, before she stood from her desk and approached Jayce with the log in hand. It was opened of all the books, times dates and any additional information Marcus left in the logs, all open for Jayce to access. There was a stern and stoic expression on her face as she handed it over, emerald eyes shining with urgency.

“Show this to Master Heimerdinger, and HURRY little one. If the Force says something is wrong, NEVER IGNORE IT. Quickly little one, and come back telling me we were not too late…” She added, her voice wavering at the end. There was genuine fear in her eyes, her expression grim. With a determined nod and a soft “Thank you Master Anu…” Jayce took off running towards Heimerdinger’s office, as fast as his little legs could carry him. By the stars above, he hoped he wasn’t too late- for both their own sanities and Viktor’s sake. All Master Anu did was watch, her heart heavy with worry. May the Force guide both their fates, she thought before turning and returning to her duties. For the remainder of the day, she accomplished very little. Something told her, they were already too late. May the Force have mercy on that poor child’s spirit and mind, she silently prayed, staring in the direction Jayce disappeared. Though Jedi were not supposed to grow attached, it did not lessen the ache of loss. This one, she felt, was going to the worst one she’d experience in her long life. One that she probably would never recover from.

***

The path to his Master’s office never felt so long before. Every step felt longer, heavier and more grueling the harder he pushed his body. It felt like the universe itself was trying to stop him, as he ran over the grassy open courtyards, through the large gallant halls lined with the common theme of marbled ivory white and golden accents, with either a small detail of blue green or red décor. Though his body openly protested, he did not stop. Nothing would stop him from saving Viktor. Not even the Force. The sharp pains in his temples seemed to scream at him to hurry, the throbbing sensations in his heart making his stomach drop. He did his best to ignore them, deny them. It only made the sensations worse, more pressing. Yet he continued on, refusing to give into the darkness slowly creeping into his mind. Not yet-

The Force seemed to be aware, urging him on. The way his blood pumped with a renewed vigor and drive; he made it to Heimerdinger’s office finally. The grand bright golden doors with red trim were sealed shut, meaning he was busy with an important meeting. He did not give a fuck, as he used the Force to burst open the doors, refusing to stop even for a split second. Without even pausing he raced in, feeling the charges energy of annoyance and disapproval wafting off his master. The way Heimerdinger’s eyebrows knit together in an annoyed manner didn’t even make him flinch.

There was a massive man, with a huge formidable presence and stature. Massive broad shoulders, the familiar gentle blue grey eyes. He would recognize that man anywhere. Vander. The man who brought Viktor to him that day, so many years ago. There was a faint flicker of amusement in Vander’s eyes, though his expression remained neutral. Remaining a bounty hunter they had to have excellent poker faces. But like always, Vander’s soft spot for kids; it always gave him away. Seeing him there made his heart ache, because if he was too late, there would be so many people hurt by this. If he was too damn slow-

“JAYCE! Young man this had better be VERY IMPORTANT, we are in the middle of-” Heimerdinger started, as Vander turned and folded his massive muscled arms over his broad chest, his eyebrow raised. The subtle way he tilted his chin down to him with a patient expression was shaken the instant he heard Viktor’s name escape Jayce’s lips. Struggling to stand, Jayce wheezed out breathlessly while offering the log with trembling hands. He was exhausted. Sweat beaded his whole body, and he was desperately trying not to collapse in front of them.

“Master- I.. I think Viktor is in grave danger-… I have… Proof of Marcus checking deserted planets within Sith territory… maps… times when there aren’t storms, safe locations to land in Tatooine… and locations of water sources… Also, the locations near Tusken Raider encampments… Please! Please tell me he’s still here!! I know he was planning to take Viktor with him on a mission close to the Sith bases this week… PLEASE… I am begging you master please listen to me!!” Jayce pleaded, tears forming in his eyes. The fear and tension began to rise as the color faded from Heimerdinger’s face, his ears drooping. The way Vander turned to Heimerdinger, a SEETHING fury forming in his chest and the FURY just bubbling under the surface practically swallowed up the entire room.

“WHERE. IS. VIKTOR…” Vander snarled, massive hand forming into a fist and slamming down hard on Master Heimerdinger’s desk. The amount of force used from that hit made the entire desk shudder, and left a sizable dent in the surface. Almost 40% of his master’s items went slipping or falling off the desk. Yet his master’s mortified expression and drooped ears didn’t even flinch. It was like he was stuck in a trance, or a vision. A few moments of gut-wrenching silence pass before Heimerdinger gasps loudly, clutching his temple. Sweat beaded the exposed portions of his skin, while his fur looked faintly damper and matted. Both of them stared, one expression overflowing with fear and worry, the other practically a second away from crushing Heimerdinger’s hand into a messy pulp with a single clench of his fist. The way Heimerdinger just stared at him with the most guilt-ridden expression made his world tilt. His head swam. No, he couldn’t have- HE COULDN’T HAVE-

“Jayce… They left… two days ago… I just had a vision… Jayce my boy… I think I have failed him… And you. I fear we are too late… We must head to the Communications Chamber, immediately. Quickly, no time to waste!! If there is any chance to save Viktor we must act in utmost haste!” Heimerdinger snapped, quickly rising to his feet and glancing up at Vander with a stern expression. The glare returned was one of UTTER disgust. And so much regret. Vander was blaming himself, for ever bringing Viktor there.

“Vander, I know you’re angry, but now is NOT the time to bicker! Viktor may still be with us!” Heimerdinger hissed, his glare boring holes into the massive man who hadn’t moved yet.

“YOU SAID, YOU would do ALL YA COULD to keep him SAFE FROM the SITH. And yet your spineless AND WORST JEDI MASTER WAS IN CHARGE OF HIM?! I knew this was such a mistake, risking his life with your fucked up JEDI WAYS. That boy’s BLOOD is on your hands, JEDI. You insisted he’s better off here. Yet if he stayed with me, he would’ve had a FAMILY, A COMMUNITY. Yet all the fucked-up reports from my scouts state that SITH SUCKER MARCUS had been treating him like a DAMNED SLAVE. AND NOW YA HAVE THE GALL, TO TELL ME, THAT BOY IS LITERALLY possibly within Silco’s grasp?! You fucked up, BIG TIME. You best PRAY we find him, alive and with Marcus when that piece of shit returns. And this time, that boy’s coming with me. There is no discussion. EITHER FIX THIS, or our very thin alliance is done.” Vander spat; eyes narrowed darkly at Heimerdinger. Such an untapped fury seemed to brim within Heimerdinger’s small body for a brief moment, before pausing for a moment with a contemplative expression.

“We both know… if Silco finds him alive… How much danger we ALL are in… Dividing from the Jedi at such a time could be devastating for your hunters-” Heimerdinger warned, his voice having a faint tremble in it. He felt it. The same time Jayce did. The Force. VIKTOR’S FORCE, HIS PRESENCE, just seemed to vanish. Like with a single snap of fingers, it ceased. A huge shiver wracked Heimerdinger’s body, making him fall to his knees. The sudden and IMMEASURABLE shift in the Force seemed to spread through the entire galaxy. It was nothing he had ever felt so strongly before, and watching Heimerdinger’s reaction of him struggling to get to his feet made Vander go pale.

“What happened?!” Vander barked, not rushing to provide aide to him. Though he did not wield the Force, he seemed fully aware. That shift, a sensation. A gut feeling. That something drastic just happened, and whatever comes next was going to be BAD. The sudden shift of the room made Vander turn and stare at Jayce. He hadn’t moved. Not uttered a word. All he did was stare, straight ahead, eyes practically glazed over and empty. Like a husk, all the life sucked clean out of his tiny body.

There had been voices, but Jayce barely heard them. He FELT THEM, all the emotions, the voices, they were so clear. It was truly amazing, for single second, or an entire lifetime, Jayce realized this is how VIKTOR felt and saw everything. The sudden rush of power was far more than he could process or handle, but it became so deeply ingrained in his psyche. Viktor. Viktor’s powers for a single moment had all gone to him. The Force seemed drawn to him, flowing through every single microscopic part of his body, his literal being. Though physically he appeared to be spacing out staring at nothing, Jayce was currently feeling and experiencing everything on a new level. EVERYTHING. HE COULD FEEL EVERYTHING, EVERY BEING WITHIN PILTOVER. It was HORRIFYING, yet somehow, so magical. And not even a second later, the Force was torn away from him, as something seemed to beckon it, insisting he follow. Yet his body could not. It was far more than he could process or understand, especially so quickly.

Time seemed to slow and alter, his head suddenly felt so heavy and dizzy. Colors and shapes seemed to mesh together, all melting into one uniform shade of black, slowly filling in his vision. His body felt so cold and rigid, like he was drowning in frigid icy waters. The room was barely visible, but the smallest speck of what he could make out was Heimerdinger and Vander’s mouths moving. Seemingly close to his face and yelling something. So far away, so soft. Whatever this sensation was, he hadn’t noticed he had collapsed onto the floor of Master Heimerdinger’s office, staring into space blankly and reaching his hand at something only he could see. For the briefest moment, Viktor’s eyes flashed from that black inky void just out of his reach, before Jayce’s hand dropped to the ground, and when he lost full consciousness. All went silent and black.

***

By the time Jayce awoke in a medical bay bed, 3 days had passed. Master Heimerdinger and Vander were sitting in chairs near the far left all of his medical room, expressions grim. Heimerdinger’s ears drooped significantly, while Vander had massive bags under his eyes, looking worn and ragged. The sudden groan and shifting of Jayce’s mainly dormant body made them snap to attention. A collective sigh escaped both of their lips. The two exchanged a mutual glare before turning their attention back to Jayce. By Janna, his head HURT… Weakly he rubbed his eyes, whining as he sat up. One hand was pressed against his forehead and the other behind him as he propped himself up. Vander was the first to speak.

“Whoa, easy boy. You had a… quite the episode. You blanked out and then collapsed. The rodent here said you for a split second had so much of the Force within your grasp it caused your tiny body to literally collapse. You’ve been out cold for 3 days, kid. You were wiped out big time.” He stated levelly, as is trying to ease into the subject they KNEW was coming. Without even a second’s hesitation, he asked the question. The one that made both of the adults in the room to flinch. That reaction was all Jayce needed to become instantly awake, body freezing up.

“Master… Where’s Viktor? Did he come back? Did they find him, when did he get back? Where is he?!” Jayce asked, each question filling his voice with panic. The two looked away, Vander’s expression and shoulders going tense. Those steely blue grey eyes were locked firmly on the floor. A slow and heavy breath filled the silence in the room, before Heimerdinger eventually spoke up.

“We… finally got a message back from… Marcus. He said he will be back to the ship within the hour. There was… No mention of Viktor. Once he returns, we will interrogate him. And, we are hoping Viktor will be with him but…” His voice trailed off, his piercing blue eyes pulling away from Jayce’s hopeful expression. Guilt, regret and remorse. That was all he felt from his master. They didn’t need to say it. Don’t expect Viktor to be with him. He wasn’t coming back. The tension in the room began to build, as Jayce slowly processed those unspoken words. Anger burned through his small body, flowing through his blood, along with a deep unshakable sorrow. If it hadn’t already, Jayce felt his heart shatter. A faint whimper escaped his lips, tears forming in his eyes. Sorrow and fury grappled for control in his mind. Short strangled breaths made their way through Jayce’s small clenched teeth, his fists clenching the blankets under him. This…

A knock at the door made them all flinch, and turn expectantly towards the door. The metal door swiftly slid open, before a Communications officer stepped in. They bowed faintly at Heimerdinger whose expression was grave.

“Grand Master Heimerdinger, there is news. Marcus… Has just returned. He docked his ship in the main hangar-”

There was a brief moment, before a flash of movement. The blur followed by the Communications officer being shoved aside with a faint grunt. Jayce had gotten to his feet and immediately bolted past them all, his mind locked on one thing. VIKTOR- he had to be there- he just HAD TO BE- Heimerdinger and Vander’s voices rang after him, yelling for him to stop. Voices. Yelling. He didn’t acknowledge them. Nothing else mattered. Viktor. That was all his mind could think of. The closer he got, the heavier his heart got. Closer and closer, his body began to grow heavier and weaker. The Force seemed to warn him, pleading for him not to go, not to see. But he had to know. He NEEDED TO. HE HAD TO BE THERE- HE HAD TO BE!!

Several minutes had passed, and Jayce had made it to the massive ship hangar before Heimerdinger or Vander. The voices became louder, as did the footsteps tailing after him. Both the adults were huffing by the time they reached Jayce, who was frozen in place. Staring, in sheer horror. The ship, was docked at the far side of the hangar. The other Jedi had already had Marcus cornered, as per Master Heimerdinger’s orders. There were guns from the Enforcer soldiers pointed at Marcus, along with some of the bigger burlier Jedi security with light sabers drawn, eyes laser focused on the man before them. The glare that directed at Heimerdinger was fierce and piercing, but when his gaze shifted and locked on Jayce, Marcus’s shoulders stiffened.

The expression shifted and looked… pitiful. The regret in his eyes, the guilt. It was all Jayce needed to know, before his gaze settled on the empty seat, where Viktor rode besides him. Nothing. Nothing but a lurking sense of failure, and sorrow. It seemed to swallow Jayce whole, like a huge part of his life, had just been ripped apart right before his eyes. All eyes now rested either on Jayce or Marcus. Jayce fell to his knees, eyes brimming with unshed tears, his mind refusing to process what was happening. No one spoke. No one needed to. The others were slowly filling in the missing pieces. The Force seemed to drape around him, like a gentle friend, a comforting presence as his grief nearly killed him right then and there. Truly, for the first time in his short lifetime, he felt truly and utterly alone. Viktor… Viktor was… Gone.

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jaggedamethyst · 4 months ago

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master list 🕊️💜

hi! i am a new writer; you can find more info here. here is my master list so far. this will be updated as i go. - amethyst 💟

18+ blog!!! | requests open

master lists

marvel 🫧

arcane 🦋

the last of us 🌿

blog details

i currently write both gender-neutral and f!reader and each post will be clearly labeled. if it simply says reader (ex. fwb!reader) it is neutral.i try my best to make things inclusive...so if anything isn't right just let me know and i will make the edits!

i accept requests! however, please use discretion for things that are really dark. while i may depict mental health (and include warnings for that) i have a preference to not detail sa, non-con, etc.

this blog is 18+ so while it may be hard to enforce this rule, i am requesting no minors and absolutely will never write anything about minor characters that includes smut.

i will not age up characters. any characters i write for will canonically be an adult. (ex. ekko in arcane who canonically is 20 by the end of the series, and the one-shot i wrote takes place after the finale)

this list is not exhaustive, and i reserve the right to delete/ignore any requests/comments that go too far for my liking.

tag lists 🏷️

the master post to all of my current tag lists is linked above, i will update as i make them and they may include series as well as characters. commenting on these posts is the only way to be added to the list.

i often make a tag list post or master list that hosts the tags for a certain work. check the links on a post before spamming! if i haven't made one yet, just let me know and i will start one!

character tag lists will be for every post about that character. if you do not want to be tagged at any time...even if its every week or months later, do not comment

unless i say otherwise, i do not take requests for tags in reblogs, comments on an installment, or through private message.

you can delete your name if you'd like to be removed from the tag list, but i may not realize its gone. keep this in mind if you ever sign up to be tagged.

#jaggedamethyst #angst #arcane jayce #jayce talis #jayce talis x reader #arcane #jayce talis x you #marvel #marvel mcu #arcane x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #frank castle #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #tag lists 🏷️#master lists 🗞️

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duchesschameleon · 1 month ago

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do you enjoy making me cry, tali? because I’m a bit of a mess right now oh my GOODNESS goddamn you’re talented

proofs of holy writ.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

a/n: the people have spoken and by a wide margin, we're stepping out of the mean it/berry hill era and into season 8, the replicator!! this is the companion to trifles light as air, the episode fic for brothers hotchner. feel free to give that one a glance if you need a refresher!

friendly fandom reminder that its not cringey to comment/reblog/tell the author and your friends you loved it!!

summary: “trifles light as air / are to the jealous confirmations strong / as proofs of holy writ.” - william shakespeare, othello act iii, scene iii. june 10th-june 19th, 2013

words: 11.6k warnings: canon typical violence, mentions of alcoholism, mark hamill being scary as fuck, let me know if i missed something!

masterlist | the ajf masterlist is under construction | ajf faq | join the taglist | what do you want to see next?

You’ve just picked a movie to not-watch on the hotel TV when Aaron gets a call. It’s Penelope.

Your heart sinks.

As Aaron picks up the phone, you rest your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes against the wretched information that’s probably on its way to your proverbial desk.

“Garcia, what -... The system is closed now, yes?... This isn’t your fault. Not at all…Have you called the rest of the team?... No?”

This is not good.

“Okay I’ll take care of -... Yes, thank you.”

He hangs up.

“The Replicator is in New York. He hacked into Garcia’s system and has photos of us from this case.”

A bolt of panic runs through you. “But we have Jack…”

He shakes his head, already holding his phone to his ear again. “Hey, Beth. I’m so sorry it’s so late. I have a favor to ask.”

You can’t help it. You push through the double doors to the living area of your suite. Jack is accounted for, sleeping soundly on the pullout couch. You kneel and let your shaking hand fall onto his head.

Safe.

+++

Jack (and his brand-new security detail) land at Beth’s apartment without much fuss. He’s still practically asleep, and it’s your only option right now. Aaron’s down with the car and the agents, doling out assignments and keeping the engine warm.

“Thank you, Beth.” You turn the light off in her office, where Jack is set up. “I’m so sorry for the imposition.”

“No! No, not at all,” she says. “I get it - bad guys ruining your vacation and whatever.” She pauses and takes a breath. “I’ve got him.”

“His aunt will be here first thing in the morning to pick him up.” You text her a photo of Jessica, just in case. “Thank you again. Sorry about the random guys in your house.” You shoot a rueful smile at one of the US Marshals - Keith, you think, and he nods at you.

“Not a problem,” Beth says. “You guys be safe out there, okay?”

+++

The car ride to the federal building is quiet, save for the sound of Aaron’s fingers tapping against the steering wheel. Your mind is running in circles, screaming at you to call Beth one more time, to turn the car around and check. Jack is fine. He’s safe. You know that. But knowing and believing are two different things.

You exhale through your nose, forcing your grip to relax on your knee as Spencer and Dave slide into the backseat. It’s a bit of a blur - your mind is going a thousand different directions, not to mention fighting the urge to take everyone you’ve ever loved and throw them in a bunker.

Dave hangs up the phone. “Strauss isn’t answering.”

“Keep trying,” Aaron tells him. “Reid, any luck with Blake?”

“Not yet.”

“There are more pictures of you taken outside of Beth's apartment,” Dave says, waving around a new missive from Penelope. “I get it if you want to stay with Jack until we find him.”

Aaron shakes his head. “I've got agents surrounding Beth's building and stationed in the apartment. She and Jack are safer without us since we're the targets.”

You take the tablet from Dave. Yes, there are ones from Beth’s apartment, but those scare you less than one of you and Jack from the baseball game. He’s sitting on your shoulders, arms raised in triumph as you smile at someone out of frame. A bolt of adrenaline rushes through you. PTSD is a hell of a drug. Your therapist will need a raise this week.

“Blake,” Reid says, and your heart lightens a little. At least she’s able to answer her phone. “We'll pick you up in a few minutes. The Replicator's back.”

+++

The four of you eventually make it back to the hotel. It’s a miracle Aaron managed to weave in and out of the New York traffic like he did - any layperson would see a gridlock, but somehow he always finds a route.

You settle in the lobby as JJ and Derek arrive. Dave heads upstairs to find Strauss. It feels a little chaotic, but everyone seems to be in one piece so far. Every little bit of your resiliency training is doing heavy lifting, keeping you upright and functional.

Aaron, standing beside you and working with the other agents as they arrive, gets a phone call.

“Yeah, Dave….We’ll be right up.” He hangs up and gestures to you and Spencer.

The two of you follow him into the elevator without a word, finally reaching Erin’s room.

The room is trashed, plastic bottles from the minibar scattered all over the floor, bed unmade, chairs overturned…

“The window's open,” Dave says. ”She'd never sleep like that.”

“Did something happen to make her drink again?” Aaron asks, his tone absent of judgement. He’s fallen completely into fact-finding mode, probably hoping to God this isn’t a repeat of last time.

“No! She was working real hard at –” Something catches his eye on the table. He holds it up for you to see. It’s a red and gold coin with 12 embossed on one side. “This represents a year sober. She hasn't let go of it since she got it. She's even a sponsor now.” He pauses. “The Replicator has her. I'll check the roof.”

Aaron nods. “I'll have Morgan meet you up there.” You and Spencer get out of the way, just in time to bump into Derek, JJ, and Blake in the hallway.

“Strauss is missing.” Aaron looks to each one of you, confirming your assignments. “Blake, you and Reid talk to hotel security. We need access points and footage from every camera. Morgan, back up Dave on the roof. JJ, take the west staircase, I'll take the east.” He looks to you last. “Go with JJ.”

You nod once. It’s almost strange that he doesn’t want you at his back, but you figure he can take care of himself.

The west staircase is completely clear—no sign of anything.

“What do you think, Jayje?”

She takes a breath. “The roof?”

You get a call. “Dave? Do you need backup?”

“No. Hotch found Erin. I just called for an ambulance but…”

“Dave. They’re on their way. Do we have anything for an APB?”

“Not yet.”

+++

You reach Aaron and Strauss at a dead sprint, but it’s too late.

She’s gone.

Your eyes sting with tears as you take in the scene before you. Aaron has Strauss wrapped tightly in his arms, holding her lifeless body close to him, almost cradling her. He looks at Dave, mournful and gutted. He turns, resting his head on Erin’s, bringing her closer.

She didn’t die alone. That in itself is a small comfort.

Your mind takes you, against your will, to a flash of Aaron holding Haley’s body. You shudder and shake it off. Now is not the time.

Dave looks shellshocked, and you can’t blame him.

That’s three.

Aaron, Spencer, Dave.

Your heart breaks. You’re certain it’s audible.

The ambulance arrives, followed by the crime scene techs, but it feels like you’re rooted in place. Aaron doesn’t move, staring into space, his thumb worrying the knuckle on his middle finger. You’ve seen that look before—when he was barely standing after losing Haley.

The EMTs check him over but it’s clear he’s unharmed. You crouch beside him, placing a hand on his knee.

“Are you okay?”

It’s a stupid question. Of course, he’s not okay. His mind probably went to the same place yours did.

You’re proud of him when he shakes his head. “No, but we have to keep moving.” He puts a hand over yours. It’s cold. He stands, dropping your hand. “I have a couple of calls to make. See what you can do.”

You squeeze his arm once and let go as he rises, stepping away from you.

JJ returns from her canvas and you join the huddle. She’s already talking, briefing Alex, Spencer and Derek. “We've got an APB, but the description of the Replicator is too general.”

“He wiped out all of the hotel security cameras,” Reid adds. “ATM and traffic cameras were compromised also. Which means he hacked into at least two dozen systems.”

Dave stands away from you all, turning the coin in his hand, staring at it.

“Well, he got into Garcia's place, which means he can get in anywhere.” Derek is thoughtful, still. “This guy's bragging.”

You nod once. “He also wants us to know he can take massive risks and still get away with it. It's probably why he took Strauss into a crowd of people.”

“That and to humiliate her publicly,” JJ says.

Your eyes stray to Dave, who still stands vigil by Erin’s sheet-covered body.

Alex doesn’t look convinced. “But he called Hotch from her phone. It was important to him that we find her alive.”

You have a weird gut feeling about the phone call coming to Aaron, almost like it’s another targeted mind game. It’s eerily similar. You shake it off.

He can’t know about the Foyet case. It’s not public. And it’s classified.

Aaron returns. “The Director wants this contained and solved.”

“Well, at least he's not taking us off the case,” Derek says.

“He's given us 24 hours and then he will.” He effectively dismisses the five of you, turning to Dave. You stay close.

“I’m taking her back to Bethesda,” Dave says. “She never liked this city, Aaron. I’m not about to leave her.”

+++

With a plan in place, the rest of the team heads for the jet. You stand in the hangar for a moment, solidifying everything with Jess over the phone before you board and take off.

“You’re sure you can come get him?” You ask. Even with a team of marshals at Beth’s apartment, something in you is activated by leaving Jack alone in New York.

We’re the targets. He’s safer without us.

It goes against every instinct you have, but you know it’s true.

“Of course,” Jess replies. “I’d come up tonight if there were any trains running.”

“There will be a car for you when you get here and the detail will take you home. I’ll send you pictures of the agents.”

“Is it that bad?”

You sigh. “It could be. We’re headed back on the jet now.”

“Fly safe,” she says. You’re proud of her for trying to hide the waver in her voice.

You catch Aaron’s eye as he joins Dave by Erin’s casket. His hand, in his pocket, peeks out and beckons you over. You stay a little ways away, but you can hear them.

“Is Jack staying here?” Dave asks.

“Just overnight. Jess is coming to get him in the morning and I have the marshals at Beth’s apartment.” He pauses, looking briefly back at you before turning back. “I think it’s a good idea.”

Dave looks at you, standing sentinel by the wing of the plane, then back at Aaron. “You’re lucky to have each other.”

“I know.” Aaron is almost inaudible from here. Your heart pulls.

“Her children want to meet me at Bethesda.”

“How old are they now?”

“Too young for this.” He wipes his eyes and fixes them on the casket. He’s not really looking at it, more through it.

Aaron is the man he is at home, with you, standing beside one of his oldest friends. You know this is something he never wants anyone to understand - the pain of losing your other half, the piercing and unique mark it leaves on the soul. “Are you alright?”

Your gaze drops to the ground. It feels wrong to stay where you can hear, but something compels Aaron to draw you closer.

“She smells of booze, Aaron.” He lifts his head, meeting Aaron’s eyes. “You and I know it’s because that bastard took away her dignity, but her children might not believe that. It’s hard for them to trust anything to do with her drinking.” They both look at the casket, where Erin rests. “She struggled with it all her life. She was finally beating it.”

Dave tosses Erin’s sobriety coin, letting it spin before catching it again.

Aaron reaches out and lays his hand on Dave’s shoulder. It looks almost like a benediction, something more than comfort, more than simple connection. It’s all at once a prayer and an assertion that yes, indeed, you are here with him and for him.

+++

“He knew about Foyet,” Aaron says, quiet under the roar of the plane. The pair of you sit on the couch, with you lounging against the wall, Aaron’s head in your lap. You’re half asleep, your fingers combing through his hair.

You startle and he sits up. You bow toward him, your hand reaching out for his shoulder. “What?”

“He - he taunted me. He asked me if it reminded me of the call with - with Haley.” His eyes are downcast, his expression grim. “How I wasn’t fast enough. That I didn’t make it in time.”

You didn’t want to be right about the feeling you had earlier. It makes your stomach roll with nausea. That aside, you have a new insight for your profile.

It takes a unique kind of psychopathy to go out of your way to seek out, target, and torture the subject of your fixation with their own PTSD triggers. To isolate Aaron’s fears and execute a reenactment of the worst day of his life takes planning, insight, and -

Shit.

Knowledge.

The archived Foyet case is heavily redacted—even for those who can find the sole remaining paper copy—but the original, unredacted report was released to a select few. To your knowledge, it was placed under a Top Secret/Polygraph access threshold before going to the oversight committee on the Hill.

Very few people, indeed. A sinking, horrifying feeling drops into your gut.

“Bastard.” It's an understatement. Your voice is low and a little broken. You wrap your arms around Aaron as he ducks into you, his head under your chin, taking refuge in your body. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

“Me too.”

+++

While some of you get some sleep on the plane, you’re all amped when you land at Quantico.

“He mentioned Foyet to me on the phone,” Aaron says to the team, silent in the elevator. His hand is tight around yours and he keeps it as you all step off and into the BAU bullpen.

JJ balks. “He knew about Foyet?”

“Who's that?” Blake asks.

“He's the man who killed my wife,” he replies frankly and without hesitation, squeezing your hand. Your heart pulls, even as you notice the strange sort of confusion on Alex’s face as she looks at you.

You look back at her, clarifying, “That's a classified case that's not in any database.” You know that’s not the question she didn’t ask, but it’s the one you can answer right now.

“Then how would he know about it?” She asks.

“If he had access to the file,” Reid says. “We're talking about someone on the inside.”

That’s unfortunately the conclusion you came to as well. He could be anywhere.

Aaron breaks away from you and heads to his office. “Conference room in five.”

Alex steps up next to you as you stop at your desk. “If you don’t mind me asking…”

You look up at her. “Not at all.” You take a breath and pick up one of the photo frames on your desk, handing it to Alex. Haley smiles up at her. “Aaron’s wife Haley was murdered in 2008 by a serial killer the BAU had been hunting since the 90s. He played us, hard, and we got hurt.” You look up at Aaron’s office. “Hotch and I—we, um—”

“No need to put it into words if you can’t find them.” Blake says, placing the frame back in its home next to your monitor.

Spoken like a true linguist.

You let out a halfhearted chuckle. “Thanks. Ready to go?”

Blake nods and follows you to the conference room. You take a seat even though you feel restless. Aaron joins you only moments later.

He stands behind you, placing his hands on the back of your chair, his fingers brushing your shoulders. “Garcia, is this everything?”

You feel a little left out. Everyone’s standing.

“Yeah,” Penelope replies. “The Replicator stuff is here, and the team stuff is there and there.” She turns to Derek, who has crossed to the board, looking over the photos. “How's Rossi?”

“Not good,” he answers, low and rough.

“Is he with Strauss?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” She focuses back in, messing with her tablet and the monitor. “Uh - uh, I started with the question you asked - why attack Strauss, and on this day?”

You shrug. ”The most obvious answer is that it's an anniversary of some sort.”

Penelope counters, “But there's nothing historically relevant.” You know she checked already and you’re so thankful she’s on your side.

“It could be the smallest thing.” Spencer says, “Concentrate on New York. If the date's that important, the setting could be, too.”

JJ’s running through the givens in her head, thinking about what you already know and what you have left to consider. “It would be easier to attack Strauss at home. Is there a reason why he waited for her to be out?”

“Well,” Derek says, turning back toward the board, “considering she's hardly ever in the field, he sure got a lot of photos of Strauss.”

“It's like he's obsessed with her.” You pause, considering. “Maybe Strauss was always his first target. He attacked the top of the BAU chain first.”

Aaron’s directions come from over your head, his hands still firmly planted on the back of your chair. “Alright, Reid, you've matched up all the murder locations with the dates. Now we need to know how long it would take to drive to each of these locations, assuming a home base in the district.“ He pauses, casting his gaze on the rest of you. “He brought the fight here for a reason.”

”Well,” Derek says, “it's nearly impossible to figure out when he arrived and departed New York, but we should try.”

Penelope gathers her tablet, “I'll collect all the public and private transport stuff.”

Aaron stops her on her way out, meeting her eyes with a grave and gentle kind of severity. “Garcia, I need Kevin to go through every single pixel of these photographs. This unsub gets off on taunting us. He's given us answers here. We just haven't found them yet.”

Penelope has only seen that look once or twice. She nods and gets to work. Everyone else peels off, but stays close.

You’re finally left alone with Aaron in the round table room, but he’s already got his phone to his ear, running along some train of thought he hasn’t bothered to articulate to you yet. He must have called Penelope only moments after she left, adding to her plate. “Garcia, before you and Lynch get started on the photos, pull the original cases for me before the system goes completely offline. I’d like to review them.” He hangs up.

“Let me run to the basement really quick.” You rise from your chair, closing your tablet and tucking it under your arm. You talk fast, not looking up at Aaron as you consolidate your printed information to drop at your desk. “There might be hard copies down there, Jamie in archives works fast, and with the system down, we -” You turn to leave, but suddenly—fingers close firmly around your wrist. Not hard. Just certain. You whip around, startled to find a wild sort of look in Aaron’s eyes.

"‘No.’ His voice is quiet, but the weight behind it stops you cold.

Your pulse jumps. Aaron never stops you. Never holds you back. Not unless—"

"Aaron?” You take a step toward him, lacing your fingers with his, trying to ground him. “Talk to me.”

He swallows, his jaw flexing. “I need you to stay with me or Morgan until this man is in custody. Do you understand?”

Oh.

Your stomach drops. “What exactly did the Replicator say to you on the phone?” You don’t mean to make him relive it, but this guy is in Aaron’s head, big time.

“He mentioned you by name, said it would be a ‘real shame’ if this job cost me someone else.”

You squeeze his hand.

He continues. “Erin said that the Replicator told her to tell me ‘I’ll race you home’ and she asked me if that meant anything to me.”

“Aaron…”

“Please do not leave my sight.” He blinks rapidly a couple of times and you know he’s trying desperately to keep it together. “Please. It’s hard enough with Jack -“ He cuts himself off in an attempt to maintain what fortitude he has left. “If he’s an agent, and he’s finding ways to get to us, one by one, I can’t give him the opportunity to…”

“I know.” You nod. It’s devastating to see him beg, to plead with you like this when he doesn’t have to. “I know.”

He pulls you close and fervently kisses your forehead before wrapping his arms around you. You let yourself fall into him, gripping the back of his shirt. It almost feels like he’s fighting to get you as close as possible. You can feel him looking behind you, out the window, likely studying every single person in or out of the bullpen.

+++

Once Spencer has a preliminary timeline for the Replicator’s travel, Aaron calls them all back into the round table room. You remain standing this time, across from Aaron, over JJ’s shoulder. Before any of you can provide an update, Aaron’s phone rings.

“Hotchner…” He pulls his phone from his ear, putting it on speaker and laying it on the table. “Dave, a figure eight?”

“That's what it looks like. I just sent you all a picture.”

You squint at the picture, zooming in.

“Maybe it's an infinity symbol,” JJ says.

Alex sounds skeptical. “Well, if it's infinity, he could be boasting ‘I'll go on forever’?”

You purse your lips, thinking and turning the photo to the side. “Or if it's an eight, Strauss was his eighth victim.”

“There are eight of us,” JJ says. “Strauss could be considered the ninth, or alternatively, the odd man out.”

“If this is a taunt from him,” Aaron says, “it's too random.”

He would have authority on that, being the last person the Replicator taunted with alarming specificity.

Derek looks up, gesturing to the case files and his tablet. “Well, he's only sent one message and he seems to be real proud of it.”

“Zugzwang,” Spencer confirms.

“Then what does this mean?” JJ asks, flatly. It’s almost rhetorical. She casts her voice to the phone on the table. “Rossi, the cut looks jagged. Any idea, what caused the serration?”

“Best guess is a piece of glass,” he replies.

Derek’s brow furrows. “Maybe he used empty bottles from the mini bar?”

“Those were all plastic. The M.E. is checking for splinters now.”

“Alright, let us know what you find out.” Aaron hangs up, looking at Penelope. “Anything from the photographs yet?”

“We blew up a few more and this one seems to stand out,” Derek says, pushing a photo of himself at some kind of formal event, behind a podium, into the middle of the table.

"Since when do you wear tuxedos?" you ask, lifting the photo for a closer look.

“It was a British embassy event in London. Security clearance is high.”

“Security was insane there,” Penelope confirms. “That kind of accessibility, plus knowing about Foyet, the fact that he was able to get through all of my security clearances alone, you guys are right. You have to trust your gut. The Replicator has gotta be on the inside.”

+++

“If the Replicator's an insider, is there any way Strauss knew him?” you ask, stirring a little sugar into your coffee.

“She said she didn't recognize him,” Aaron says. He crosses his arms, his back to the bullpen as you all sit at the table in the kitchen. A change of scenery was necessary after about three hours of deliberation.

“To her defense,” you add, challenging him a little. It is your job, after all. “She was disoriented by the drug overdose.”

He shakes his head. “No, she was adamant about it.”

Alright. That holds water.

JJ sits beside Derek with her own cup of coffee as he begins to speak. “Well, even if Strauss didn't know him, it doesn't mean he didn't know her.”

“Within the Bureau, she is the face of the BAU,” Alex says.

JJ nods. “And clearly a target from the beginning.”

“But why?” Spencer asks. He continues. “More importantly, what was he replicating?”

“The drug overdose?” You tell him, like it’s obvious.

Spencer shakes his head, “I mean with the eight. It hasn't been part of any other case, and he's not one to make mistakes. He thought he was replicating a crime.”

Now, that gets Aaron thinking. You watch his eyes narrow as the wheels turn in his head. “The Director made us walk away from the case a few months ago. Strauss said that she wouldn't let it go.” He looks at you. “What if she hadn't?”

You raise your eyebrows. “You think she started her own investigation?”

“Well, if she thought he was an insider, she might have done something to trap him.”

“Why wouldn't she have told you about that back in New York?” Derek asks.

“Maybe she didn’t have proof,” Aaron says, meeting each of the team’s eyes in turn.

There’s that lawyer again.

“But her determination, plus the fact that he doesn't make mistakes makes me think that the eight was part of her plan to catch him.”

You look around as Aaron speaks, finding thoughtful faces and more than a few nods. Aaron sets you on course, now that you’re all on the same page.

“Do we have her laptop?”

“I got it. It’s in her office.” You jump up, but Derek joins you like a well-trained shadow.

If the FBI doesn’t work out, he’d make a helluva bouncer.

He follows you to the eighth floor, where you lead him into Strauss’s office. You’re sure it’s the first time you’ve entered this room without hesitation or anxiety.

Her laptop sits on her desk, pristine. You grab it, tucking it under your arm, and face Derek.

“Did Aaron tell-slash-order you to stay with me?” You ask. You don’t mind (mostly), but if they’re talking about you behind your back, no matter the reason, you’d like to be informed.

“No,” Derek replies simply. “I just can’t imagine he’s gonna be comfortable with the team being targeted like this. Especially with that phone call and Strauss lying dead on a slab downstairs.” He pauses. “And I wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye ever again if something happened to you where I could stop it.”

+++

You half-jog behind Aaron, walking purposefully down the hall to Penelope’s dungeon. As promised, you're staying within his sight as much as is reasonable.

“This is Strauss' laptop,” he informs both Penelope and Kevin as he opens the door. They both look up from their monitors. “I need to access who was on the distribution list for my case reports.”

“You don't know who reads your reports?” Penelope asks, a frown on her face.

“I know she sent them to the head of the criminal division and the Director, but I don't know who else is on the list.”

Kevin types for a moment and spins the laptop toward you and Aaron. “The last case she sent in was the case in Detroit.”

“The Cutter,” you remind him needlessly.

His brows pull together, low across his eyes. “She amended the report and said that the unsub cut a figure eight into his victims' wrists.”

Bingo.

“But he didn't do that,” Penelope says.

Aaron glances up at her. “No, he didn't. “

“So, she duped him,” you say, trying to keep your eagerness to a minimum.

Penelope picks up right where you left off. “Which means that one of the people reading these reports has gotta be the Replicator.”

Aaron turns the laptop toward Kevin “It doesn't show who else saw this.”

Kevin pulls the laptop closer and you circle him, only crowding him a little. “Two other people read the report,” he says, showing you. Your expression turns sour.

“Who?” Aaron asks, looking at you.

You sigh. “You’re going to need a tie.”

+++

Derek drives you home for a change of clothes and one of Aaron’s suits, your marshal detail following you. He stands by the front door, rigid and watchful.

“Black, blue, or brown?” You call. It’s irrelevant, but focusing on something trivial suppresses the stress bubbling in the center of your consciousness.

You hear Derek’s steps on the carpet and he appears in the doorway. “It’s the Hill, so I would say black blends in best.”

“Blue, it is.” You select your favorite - the navy suit with pinstripes he wore to Berry Hill, a solid baby blue button down, adding navy socks for good measure. As for ties, you pick a blue-gray one that always reminds you a little of scales.

Scales for the snake pit.

His suit laying over your arm, you shove his clothes to the side, stirring a breeze and getting a noseful of Aaron that makes you smile. You grab something for the office and tactical blacks, just in case you need to get on the road. On your way out, you snag a garment bag off the closet door, hanging the suit inside it.

You smooth down the garment bag when you’re done, turning to find Derek watching you with a funny little look on his face.

“What?”

“You’ve settled in nicely.”

You roll your eyes. “Derek, it’s been a year and a half.”

“No, I know. You just seem…” He searches for the word. “At home, here.”

“It is my home,” you tell him flatly, passing him in the hallway.

Derek scoffs. “You know what I mean.”

You can give him that one. “I do know what you mean.” You almost speak your thoughts aloud, but you refrain. “What I was thinking will make you gag, so I’ll spare you.”

He leans on the hallway arch. “No, c’mon, what is it?”

"It’s easy to feel at home because… well, he is my home."

Derek groans dramatically. “Yeah, okay, I regret asking.”

+++

It seems everything about this case is triggering in one way or another. As you step into Aaron’s office, your refreshed go bag in one hand and a garment bag hanging over your other arm, you’re starkly reminded of the late nights in this very room when Aaron would sit behind his desk for hours, poring over the Foyet case.

You only realize you’ve frozen when Aaron steps up behind you, taking your bag from your hand and placing it by the door. You startle and he immediately apologizes, placing a hand on your waist as he passes you.

“You okay sleeping in Derek’s office tonight?”

You nod, hanging the garment bag on the little hook behind the door. “Yeah. You need to be rested for your visit to the capitol tomorrow. I’m not about to take your couch.”

“I hate the thought of you sleeping in an armchair,” he says, drawing you close and resting his hands on your lower back.

You shake your head, bringing your hands to his chest. This green really is a gorgeous color on him - it’s a shame you couldn’t enjoy it. “Not the first time, certainly not the last time,” you remind him with a half-smile.

He sighs. “I would send you home, but -”

…And there’s the Elle trauma. Put that on the list.

“I know. He’s a wildcard. Even an insider can’t access Derek’s locked office.” And Derek always locks his office. “And going home is a risk, especially with Jess and Jack coming back in the morning.”

He only addresses the first part of your comment. You suspect he’s compartmentalizing, keeping even his thoughts far from Jack to avoid crumbling from the stress. “I had bomb squad and hazmat clear Morgan’s office when we got back.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Overkill, much?”

He shakes his head. “Never.”

+++

The following morning, you sit on your desk in a loose circle with Blake, JJ, Spencer, and Derek. Blake sits in her chair, JJ in hers. Spencer stands, catching thought-volleys from the middle, and Derek mirrors you, sitting on JJ’s desk. You’ve been going through everything together.

This is your favorite way to profile, a classic, Socratic circle where you all bounce off of each other, fusing ideas and finding new insights one brain would have missed.

Your phone buzzes. It’s Aaron.

10:56am Fax machine.

You stand and hop over to the ancient fax machine in the corner, standing by as the lists come through.

“What’s goin’ on?” Derek asks.

You hold up one of the pages as it comes through. “Looks like Hotch’s visit to the Hill was successful this morning. We have a list.”

You gather the pages and make copies, handing them out. When you’re done, you pull your phone.

11:14am Thank you <3 Printed and distro’d.

He replies almost immediately.

11:14am <3s are unprofessional. 11:14am See me later.

You suppress a smile and return to your seat.

“At least this narrows it down,” Alex says. “Finding someone on the inside should be easier.

“Not necessarily,” Spencer replies. “If our unsub was trained by law enforcement, he'd know how to fit in perfectly.”

Your turn. “There's meaning and purpose to everything he does.”

“Why did he choose to replicate the Silencer case?” Derek asks, looking at you.

JJ answers instead. “Well, that unsub went dormant for years 'cause he was locked up. Is that a clue about the Replicator?”

“Well, it speaks to his patience,” Derek says. What about his M.O.? He sewed mouths shut.”

“It symbolizes keeping secrets,” Alex muses. “There could be something in that.”

Spencer squints. “He's targeting everyone. So how does that particular case factor into all of us?”

“It's the first one Garcia and I worked on with Blake,” Derek offers.

You make a skeptical kind of noise. “Yeah, but the rest of us worked on the Seattle case before that. The unsub who used his kid to bait the victims.”

Spencer looks back at Blake. “We need to see if he replicated that one.”

“I’ll go see Garcia,” Derek says.

+++

Derek gets the reports from the replicated Seattle case and Blake gets up to copy them, feeling restless.

You roll your phone over in your hand, thinking and staring into space. Movement catches your eye and you watch Spencer stop JJ from approaching Dave as he walks into the bullpen. He doesn’t look at any of you, walking up the stairs.

JJ watches him, turning back to you, looking helpless. All of you exchange looks as Rossi crosses the bridge and steps into his office without a word.

The five of you eventually huddle around the Seattle case file, compliments of ViCAP and Penelope, bouncing ideas about what this one means to your meticulous unsub.

Aaron appears through the glass doors, his stride measured but purposeful. Your heart leaps a little. It’s been years, of course, but you’ve never stopped feeling that flash of… something when he shows up unannounced.

His gaze sweeps across the bullpen, landing on each of you in turn. "Conference room. Now."

You all file in, standing in a near-identical circle to your huddle downstairs, except there's a table in the middle.

Aaron doesn’t hesitate once you’re all in and settled, speaking quickly and crisply. “A dozen federal employees have read our case files over the last two years - that was the list I faxed over. They all went through the highest levels of security. Each of those names needs to be checked against Reid's list.”

“We should get them all in here and start the interrogations,” Alex says.

Aaron hesitates. “If he knows we're looking his way, he might retreat.” He looks at JJ. “We should also check the support staff of all those employees.”

“Each one has two assistants, so we're already up to 36 people,” she replies.

Spencer, as always, has more criteria to nail it down. “We should start with agents who work a four-tens schedule, given the fact that most of the murders happened over a long weekend, which means if the unsub traveled by car, no one at work would've missed them.”

“Well, he probably wouldn't fly,” JJ notes. “It would leave a paper trail.”

You hand Aaron the copycat case file from Seattle. He looks at you, really, for the first time since returning. “What's this?”

“The Replicator's first case was the same as mine,” Blake says. “Remember the sadist who made Ridgeway look tame?”

He looks over the file. “In Seattle, so it wasn't the Silencer.”

“Do you think it's a coincidence he started all of this when I joined the team?”

“I don't know,” he says. His focus shifts past you, down the bridge. “Dave's back?” You nod and he excuses himself.

Derek follows him, and you can hear the brief. “He's only been back a few minutes; it looks like it's hitting him pretty hard.”

You all review the Seattle file and help Reid with his lists. You’re tuned into Aaron, though, who has apparently passed Dave in favor of his own office. The director has been calling him almost non-stop. Without Strauss, the management apparatus for the section has fallen apart. You can see how easily Aaron could assume that role.

“Rossi, what the hell are you doing?”

Derek’s voice carries and you drop your file, stepping out onto the bridge warily as Aaron leaves his office.

He sees something that slows his movement and treads carefully. You can’t see past Derek - you can’t even see Rossi. Aaron looks over his shoulder and waves you off. You stay back, but you don’t go far. The team continues on without you, conversation flowing freely.

Aaron steps into Dave’s office. His shoulders are stiff and his posture is purposefully open. You see him lean forward, his arm extended. To your shock, he tucks a gun into the waistband at his lower back.

You catch only a little of what Derek says as he leaves the office: “… paramedics.” He runs down the stairs, skipping the last four.

You step out fully, your hands on the railing. “Derek, what -?”

“He drugged Rossi.”

He was here.

The on-site emergency medical arrives within minutes, and Aaron stays with Dave until he’s rolled out on the gurney. The rest of you stand just inside the bullpen. Watching. Waiting.

Aaron walks back through the glass doors, his expression unreadable. You know that face—it’s the one he wears when he’s barely holding something together.

He exhales once, measured, before speaking. "They've given him a sedative and they’re gonna take him to the infirmary. He’ll be okay."

“How did it get into his system?” Alex asks.

“The report must have been dusted with whatever he used on Strauss,” Aaron answers.

“Luckily,” Spencer says, fidgeting only a little, “the transdermal absorption rate was lower than her ingestion of it, so it wasn't fatal for Rossi.”

“Then this was a warning,” JJ says.

You shake your head. “If he wanted to kill Rossi, he had every chance to do it.”

“If this is his endgame,” Alex asks, “why is he wasting time with warnings?

Aaron answers. “He's toying with us and we're playing into him. He's turned Rossi against Morgan. Even if it was temporary, he wanted to show it could be done.”

Alex’s brow furrows. “But why?”

Derek returns from his call, cell phone in hand. “Strauss was dosed with a chemical cousin of Doctor Death. He altered it so her torture would be longer.”

“A biochemist, computer hacker, and federal agent?” JJ walks through it, looking about as concerned as you feel. “Who the hell is this guy?”

You all stare at each other for a few seconds. When nothing new comes to mind, Aaron dismisses you all. “Conference room in fifteen. I want to review the security footage.”

The rest of the team scatters, but you follow him to his office, taking your usual chair. “How was the Hill?”

“Terrible,” he replies.

“Did you have to deal with Speese again?”

He nods grimly. “He’s the chair of the Intelligence Committee, unfortunately.”

“He’s also,” you pause for comedic effect, “an asshole.”

Your comment has its intended effect. Aaron offers you the ghost of a smile. “He is. He also said hello to you, by the way.”

“Well, I do not say hello back.”

“I figured you wouldn’t.” He looks back down, adding his incident report notes for the Dave situation to his ever-growing file. “So,” he starts, getting back to business. “What do you think?”

You mirror him, fixing your posture and dropping back into Work Mode. “He’s obviously meticulous, well-organized, has space for the amount of biochemistry and technology that he uses, he knows Strauss, and he’s on one of our lists. We just have to narrow it down.”

“Do you think this is about Alex as well?”

“I think she’s involved in his fixation, for sure. Between her and Strauss, there has to be a link there.” You pause. “Is Dave really going to be okay?”

Aaron sighs. “I think so. Obviously the loss will be hard on him, but he can take the leave he needs and we’ll be there for him.”

“For better or worse, if anyone knows what he’s going through, it’s us.”

“Right.” Aaron looks up from his paperwork, meeting your eyes. You have no doubt he’s thinking the same thing as you.

I wish we didn’t understand.

He stands, breaking the spell and offering you a hand as he rounds his desk. “Ready?”

You join him. “Yessir.”

He kisses the back of your hand and then lets it go.

+++

Penelope stands in front of the large monitor and you watch as security footage plays on screen. “Only half the cameras are working because the system is still rebooting itself, so the security guards have to go old school. That means everyone has to sign in. You can't take your ID and run it through - well, you know what old school means. So, if you have a badge, you don't get harassed. The man who signed in to see Rossi went up to the sixth floor, held the door open for Kevin and Anderson…”

Kevin looks dumbfounded. “I can't believe he was right there.”

“Walked through our BAU into Rossi's office,” Penelope continues, “signed in as Adam Worth.”

Spencer perks up. “Adam Worth?”

“Isn't that the same alias he used when Maeve went missing?” JJ asks.

Spencer nods. “Yeah, which means it's not just a taunt. It speaks directly to his psychology. Adam Worth was a famous criminal from the late 1800s, commonly referred to as the Napoleon of Crime. This unsub obviously sees himself in the same light.”

“So,” Derek says, his brows pulled together, “this guy is a malignant narcissist who wants to be known as the worst enemy we've ever had.”

You look at Aaron. That’s a high bar.

His eyebrow twitches, his arms crossed. Tell me about it.

“And look,” Blake says, gesturing to the monitor, “he's careful to hide his face from the cameras.”

“Because he knows exactly where they are,” Aaron agrees, grim and low.

+++

You look over Alex’s shoulder as she creates a list of all of the Replicator’s taunts so far.

Strauss - New York

Reid - Zugzwang

JJ - Flowers

Garcia - Computer

Morgan - DNA

Rossi - Poison

Hotch - Foyet Phone Call

For you, she has the photo at the crime scene listed.

When it’s all laid out like this, it looks like you and JJ got off light. In hindsight, the photo did rattle you quite a bit, but you’ve figured out that the thing he was trying to target was exactly what Philadelphia PD’s very own Rizzo played into - your reputation. Strauss covered a lot of blowback when you and Aaron disclosed. She kept your team together because you assured her you could remain professional and not let it affect your work. The Replicator, with the photo of you and Aaron, attacked that very premise.

Alex sighs, looking over her list. “The Replicator has directly taunted everyone on this team except for me.”

“You may be part of his endgame,” you tell her, taking a seat beside Spencer.

“Then so was Strauss,” she says.

“He chose to use drugs as his final replication,” JJ notes. “That's no accident.”

“Is that a connection to you?” There’s genuine curiosity in Aaron’s inquiry. This is something, of course, that the two of you discussed in his office. You’re curious too - mostly wondering if you were right.

“Strauss and I had issues during the Amerithrax case. It started in New York with poison.”

“And it was delivered by envelopes,” Spencer adds.

Derek shifts in his seat. “Why would anyone on the inside hold resentment over that case?”

“Because that person suffered a professional setback just like Blake,” Aaron says.

You add to his thought, “- but was patient and psychotic enough to get revenge.”

Penelope rushes in, two files in her hands, and starts talking immediately. “I am all over the DOJ names including support staff. I have Kevin pulling files and photos. System is down, so it's hard to check entire career paths, but there were two agents in New York in 2001. Scratch that- Lehman died in October - that leaves Curtis.” Penelope plonks a file down in front of Alex.

Alex flips through the file. Her face goes still, and for a moment, she doesn't say anything.

"Wait a second..." Her fingers tighten on the page. "John Curtis?"

“You know him?” Penelope asks.

“I haven't seen him in a long time. He was a nice guy. We were first office agents together, but I thought he left the Bureau after the Amerithrax case.”

Aaron jumps on it. “Could it be him? Does he fit the profile?”

“He was quiet and a loner, but brilliant. He specialized in a lot of fields, but his passion…” She pauses, “was biochemistry.”

+++

You’re thankful you thought to pack your tac blacks. You change in Aaron’s office, the shades drawn. He answers an email, standing over his desk.

“So, we’re taking the choppers?” You zip your fleece, shoving your credentials in your pocket.

He nods. “I’ll fly one of them with a co-pilot and we’ll have someone outside the unit fly the other.”

“Where am I going to be?” You ask. It’s not a leading question - you’re genuinely curious.

“You’ll be with me,” he answers quickly. He crosses to you, getting the velcro under one arm while you handle the other side. There’s something hidden behind his answer, but now is not the time nor the place.

You snatch your phone off the coffee table and turn back toward him. “Let’s go.”

+++

The six of you walk with extreme purpose down the hallway, taking the stairs to the roof.

Penelope briefs you as you go through your comms. “He inherited a family compound in rural Virginia. Coordinates on your phone.”

“What else do you have on Curtis?” Alex asks, turning her head toward her mic.

“Just like you thought. John Curtis was demoted in the FBI after the Amerithrax case. He was slated to take over the coveted New York field office, but then was shipped to the not coveted Kansas City one. He worked there for many years quietly before he was able to weasel his way back into the nation's capital. On paper he is a rock star. He immediately transferred to the Department of Justice, the intelligence oversight section. He's a genius on multiple levels.”

You spare a thought for James Comey, who reinstated the physical fitness testing. He’s probably the only reason you’re not in a puddle on the landing by the tenth floor.

“What's his background?” Aaron, of course, the king of cardio and runner extraordinaire, is hardly out of breath.

“Only child, parents died when he was eighteen. Never married. Total loner, just like Blake said.”

“Then all he's ever had to care about is his work,” Aaron says.

Derek sounds resigned as you reach the roof. “And when he lost that, he snapped.”

+++

"Hey, Hotch,” Derek pulls him aside, away from the noise of the rotors. His voice is low. “Are you sure about this?"

Aaron tightens his jaw, checking his watch like the conversation isn’t happening. “It’s what the situation demands.”

Derek doesn’t buy it. He leans in. “That’s not an answer, man.” He pauses, mindful of the time. “I know this guy got in your head - he’s got all of us on edge - but we have to make the right choice, here. I know you’re flying, but…”

Aaron’s mouth tightens, pulling into a thin line. “Morgan.” He takes a breath and Derek is horrified to hear a shake in it. “I am making the only choice I can live with, and I need you to get on board. I know you would make a different choice -”

Derek places a hand on Aaron’s shoulder, cutting him off. “I get it. It doesn’t matter what I’d do. I’ll see you both when we get there.”

Aaron leaves Derek and takes his seat in the cockpit, adjusting the controls and finishing up pre-flight checks. You put on your headphones, strapping yourself into the six-point harness.

“You good?” Alex asks. You can hear her clearly in your headset, but you turn the volume up a little.

“All good. Spence?”

Spencer doesn’t reply, but offers you a thumbs up as he tightens his six-point.

You tap on the back of Aaron’s seat, making sure your mic is on. “Aaron, we’re all good back here when you’re ready.”

“10-4. Thank you,” comes the crisp reply.

You’re in the air moments later, rising from the helicopter pad on the roof in tandem with the other half of the team. You knew Aaron can fly almost anything, but it really is something else entirely to see him take the control column, flipping switches and turning knobs as you rise higher and higher, tipping forward to start your journey.

Alex eyes you, watching you watch Aaron out of the corner of her eye. You shrug.

Sue me.

+++

As you get further and further away from Quantico, the lights on the ground get sparser. Aaron patches Penelope into the onboard channels.

“HRT will divide us up when we land,” Aaron says, checking his instruments and fixing his gaze to the vast darkness ahead of you as the helicopters split.

He patches Penelope into the channels, and after you all give a 10-2, signal good, she starts with what she’s found on John Curtis.

“As you can see from the geo ref'd he's got plenty of privacy. Five and a half acres, three structures, house included.”

Almost as soon as she finishes her thought, the screens turn to snow, all of the electronic instruments suddenly useless.

“Garcia,” Aaron says. There’s urgency, yes, but he’s not panicking.

“I see it, too, sir. It must be some sort of system override.”

The helicopter pitches down and you reach out, holding onto the handle on the back of Aaron’s seat. Your stomach drops and you focus solely on keeping your mouth shut. The last thing you want is for Aaron to focus on you, even a little, when he’s handling… whatever this is.

“What's happening?” Penelope asks.

“Autopilot's seized,” the co-pilot says. Aaron attempts to override the seizure, pulling on the yoke as it moves, seemingly with a mind of its own.

“Altitude. Altitude,” the Black Hawk’s warning system placidly tells you as you drop more than 100 feet.

Aaron flips a final switch, and the helo stops descending, leveling out. “I got it back.”

“Are you okay?” Penelope asks.

“We're stabilizing,” he assures her.

You’re able to stay on course without any further incident for another few minutes. Aaron reaches back subtly with one hand and you briefly squeeze it before it disappears to the front once more.

The controls shudder again and you take another breath.

Maybe helicopters were not the move…

You flash to a conversation you and Aaron had, months ago, when he had to go re-up his flight hours to renew his license.

“That’s the thing about helicopters and motorcycles, you only get so many rides. If you fly or drive them long enough…”

The implication spoke for itself.

The alarms sound again, the warning system informing you that you’re losing altitude.

The alarms blare, the cockpit flashing red. The helicopter dips, shuddering violently beneath you.

Aaron curses under his breath, both hands gripping the controls.

The co-pilot turns, his face grim. His eyes lock onto each of you—just for a second, just long enough to make it real.

“Brace for impact.”

You brace against the front seat, reaching a hand around to make contact with Aaron. Your hand lands on his ribs, over his vest, as he reaches for his own handles. His hand covers yours for a blink before returning to its proper place.

Checking under your arm, you see that Alex and Spencer are properly braced as well, and you can hear their breathing in the headphones.

That’s good. At least we’re all breathing.

For now.

You can’t see the ground, so it’s a shock when the helicopter touches down, hard. With your brace, there’s only the smallest downward impact on your body, but your back and legs receive an unpleasant jolt regardless. You take a deep breath, sitting up and feeling dizzy, disoriented. You don’t remember hitting your head…

You’re out before you can process your next thought, dropping back against your seat.

+++

You come to as your door is wrenched open by JJ and Derek.

“Are you guys alright?” Derek asks, his voice only a little touched by fear.

You’re relieved when Aaron answers him. “Yeah.” Unfortunately, it sounds pained.

JJ unclips your six-point with the emergency release on the seat, catching you a little as you attempt to step out. One of the SWAT agents does the same for Spencer.

Derek’s flashlight stays low as JJ asks, “Where's Blake?”

“What the hell is this?” Derek says, picking up a canister from the floor by your feet. “What is this?”

You straighten and take it from him. “This looks like a quick-release gas canister to me.”

Derek looks grim, taking it back from you as Aaron roughly clambers out of the pilot seat. You lurch forward, catching his right shoulder as he loses his balance. He holds fast to your arm and you’re thrilled he’s not treating you politely, trusting your strength as you bear most of his weight.

“You okay?” He asks, straightening and checking you over. His hand ghosts over the side of your head, then down to your shoulder, taking stock.

With a nod, you assure him you are. He takes you under his arm and the five of you walk away from the landing site, headed toward the SUV driven in from the Richmond office.

“If he'd wanted to kill all of us,” JJ points out, “he could have.”

“He's playing God, just like he's done all year.” Spencer almost sounds offended. “He hard-landed us, knocked us out with whatever was in that canister so he could take Blake.”

Aaron squeezes you around the shoulders before letting you go, walking ahead to get back in the driver's seat of the SUV. If he were a weaker man, you’d be a little worried, but his threshold for mental and physical fortitude goes without saying, at this point. “He had plenty of chances to take her before tonight,” he says. “He wants it to be a spectacle.”

+++

You can see SWAT’s lights down the road as you pull up. Derek takes your hand to help you out of the car and you take it, patting his shoulder as soon as your feet touch the ground.

“You okay?” He asks.

You puff a breath out through your mouth, shaking your head before you answer. It’s been a long day.

There’s no need. “Understood,” Derek says.

The two of you join the rest of the team at the SWAT staging area.

“Morgan,” Aaron says. “I want you to go through the breach plans. Look for tactical holes and opportunities for the Replicator to lay traps.”

Derek nods, splitting off.

“The rest of us will prepare for breach with SWAT.”

+++

You take Aaron’s six with Spencer as you cross the vast yard and approach the cellar doors. Spencer looks at you and you nod once.

Ready.

Aaron throws open the doors, allowing you and Spencer to cover for any threat on the stairs, before he resets and leads the way. You have a flashlight gripped tightly, crossed under your gun hand.

The basement appears deserted, but difficult to clear on account of all the shelves. You find his photo processing space and clear it, doing your best to avoid the faces of your partner and almost-son in many of them. You startle a little when you see one from the cemetery, with you sitting on Haley’s bench and talking with your hands, your flowers resting on her gravestone. This guy is taking stalking to another level, apparently.

Derek and JJ turn the corner and the three of you fall in line with them, finding Alex chained to a chair at the end of the hall, a gag in her mouth.

JJ reaches her, removing the gag from her mouth. “Which way did he go?”

“I don't know,” Alex sounds exhausted.

Aaron evaluates Alex, the locks, the chains, everything with a discerning eye. “Morgan, you and JJ find him. We've got this.”

You holster your weapon and kneel opposite Spencer, who counts the keys.

“He said he used eight locks because there are now eight of us.”

“That's all he said?” Aaron asks.

“About that, yes.”

“There's only six keys,” Spencer says, falling into stream of consciousness. “That means two keys will be used twice. Each key is a letter, likely corresponding to a number on the locks. Seven-seventh letter of the alphabet's G…”

You look at him. “What are the other letters?”

“Um, Z, U, W-” He stops, looking at you and Aaron in turn. “Zugzwang. It's too easy.”

Spencer hands you and Aaron half the keys and you get to work, separating them and trying the locks. They work as expected. The two of you work side-by-side in silence, cooperatively shifting and passing keys to their respective locks. It would almost be fun, save for the imminent peril.

Morgan and JJ return, jogging to you and stopping short. “He's got the place lined with C-4,” Derek says. “We've only got three minutes.”

You sit back on your heels, echoing Spencers thought from before. “This seems too easy.”

“Zugzwang also means a dilemma in chess where the best move is not to move at all…” Spencer muses. As Aaron finishes the final lock, the chains falling away, Spencer shouts, “Wait, don't get up!” He pauses as she stands, explaining, “It's a pressure sensor.”

Shit.

You follow the pressure sensor wires to…

The door.

The moment you see it, it start to slide closed, solid steel scraping the wall.

Derek lunges forward, slamming into it with his shoulder. "No, no, no—!"

It’s too late.

You whip your head to Aaron, who stares impassively at the blocked exit. His eyes flicker to you and you swallow heavily, seeing something that looks like hardened acceptance in his eyes.

We got this. Don’t get complacent.

The six of you look for alternatives, following cables and wires. All of them lead to the door. You’re on the floor, examining the structural integrity of the setup, when Aaron drops beside you.

“Hey,” he says.

You look at him, still holding the wires. “Yeah?”

He pauses, his eyes flick to your mouth, then your left hand, then back to your eyes. “I love you, you know that.”

“I do.” Your word choice isn’t lost on you. You place a hand on the floor between you and he covers it with his own.

“I’m s-”

“Don’t apologize to me.” You make an attempt to smile. “You can tell me when we get outta here.”

His jaw tightens and he nods.

Derek watches the two of you when he exhausts his examination of the door. All that trouble to keep you safe, now you're all about to blow up in this room together. He sees the impossibly soft, affectionate, and determined look on your face as you say something to Hotch that has him dropping his head, picking your hand up to kiss the back of your fingers and holding them to his forehead with a kind of ferocity reserved for 18th century knights brought to their knees by the sight of an ankle.

The door opens, startling all of you. Dave is on the other side, holding a radio transmitter.

You and Aaron jolt to your feet, looking at the rest of the team.

“You know what they say about gift horses,” you prompt.

Derek laughs, a little hysterical with relief, and sprints out of the room, clearing your path. Dave joins him.

Aaron grabs your hand and practically drags you out as your brain restarts and your feet start moving. The Virginia midsummer night hits you as you leave through the front door.

“Everybody get back!” Aaron shouts, using his free hand to wave the staged agents away from the house. “There's C-4 in the basement. Everybody back!”

Spencer is just past the fence line when he stops. “Wait, where's Rossi?”

Derek turns, mentally counting all of you. He only gets to six. “He was right behind me.”

Aaron takes a couple steps toward the house. “Dave!”

“He just let us out. Why would he go back in?” Derek asks.

Seconds later, though you’re not sure if you had seconds to spare, Dave appears, jogging toward you from the side of the house. Aaron corrals you all behind one of the cars.

When the house explodes, his hand is warm between your shoulder blades.

+++

“I’m glad we didn’t blow up,” you say in the blue darkness, sitting on the couch. He cradles you in his arms, lounging against the arm of the sofa, one leg stretched out in front of him, the other hanging carelessly off the couch. You lay across his chest, your ear to his heart, your hand playing with his hair.

Aaron turned the TV off a while ago, Jack long asleep in his room, but it was nice to sit in silence, the tick of the clock the only other sound in the room beyond your breathing. It’s been a couple of days since the explosion. Erin’s service is on Sunday.

He doesn’t reply, but kisses the top of your head.

“What were you going to apologize for, in there?” You ask.

He huffs a laugh down his nose. “It seems silly now.”

“That’s why I didn’t let you do it, you know.” You lean into him, tucking your face into the slope of his neck and shoulder. “I didn’t want you to say anything you’d regret in the unlikely event that we wiggled our way out of there.”

Now, he really laughs, low and soft in the dark. “Very thoughtful of you, thank you.” He’s quiet for another minute. “It’s not something that I’d regret. It just isn’t relevant if we aren’t facing our imminent demise.” You laugh quietly, because it’s the only thing you can do. If you thought about it too hard, it would be scary. Now it’s just funny.

"I was just thinking about how sorry I was that—” He stops. Shakes his head. “That we - I wasted so much time.”

He pauses again.

"Time apart. Time spent dancing around what we knew. Time I spent convincing myself I couldn’t have this.” His hand skims your arm, back and forth. “I was a coward.”

“It’s not,” you whisper. “And you’re not a coward.”

“I was about us,” he replies simply.

You sigh. “Neither one of us were particularly brave, if I recall, but we made it.”

“No,” he says. You can hear the smile in his voice. “You made it.”

A thought comes to you. “If I didn’t kiss you, were you just going to let me yell at you until I got it out of my system?”

“That was the plan, yeah,” he’s so matter-of-fact, it makes you giggle. He joins you, holding you closer.

“God, you’re such a masochist.”

You feel him shrug under you. “I had been so in love with you for so long. I wanted anything you would give me, even your anger.” He shakes his head. “The masochism started long before then, trust me.”

You’re speechless for a moment. You sit up just enough to meet his eyes, bracing your weight on his chest. “Aaron Hotchner, that might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He draws you toward him by the chin, stopping you before his lips meet yours. You watch as his eyes track down to your mouth. The heaviness and devotion in his gaze almost makes you feel self-conscious. It gets worse when he tightens his jaw for a moment before his tongue sneaks out to wet his lower lip.

You nearly lose your breath, his lips slightly parted as his eyes leisurely wander back up to yours. He’s said nothing, has hardly moved, but you’re held by his eyes like a physical vice, unable and unwilling to move.

A spark of mischief lights up his eyes as he asks, “You gonna kiss me?”

“I was waiting for you,” you tell him, dazed.

He moves in, his lips just barely grazing yours, his breath warm against your skin as his nose traces along yours. “Please don’t ever wait for me again.”

+++

“It had to be a perfect round. And sure enough, coming right back at me was the target. And it was blasted right through the chest. The goggles come off... And it's Strauss.” Derek laughs. “I mean, I was like, what? I would have never believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. That woman... She was one hell of a shot.”

You’ve gathered at Dave’s after the service. It seemed like the only thing that felt right, to truly honor her as a team.

Penelope’s next. “Um...do you guys remember that one time that she called me, but I thought that it was somebody else?” She throws her thumb toward Derek.

“Oh, no,” he says.

JJ tips her wine glass toward Penelope. “That was funny.”

“Oh, maybe to you,” Penelope says dubiously. “I was mortified!”

“What did you say?” Alex asks.

“I said, ‘Talk dirty to me.’”

It’s never not funny. You bark a laugh and smother it in Aaron’s sleeve, his hand on your thigh under the table. Alex leans forward. “No!”

“Yes, she did,” Derek says. “That's my girl.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Hey, that was my line,” Dave interjects with a smile. You’re glad he’s able to celebrate her, at least, for one evening.

Derek claps him on the shoulder as another round of laughter echoes around the table.

“I remember when I walked into her office the day after Aaron and I had a conversation at home about going above board with-” You gesture to the space between you and Aaron, “- this.”

“I went into her office and before I could say anything, she says ‘You’re either here to hand me your badge or to ask for two copies of a conflict of interest disclosure form.’” You pause as a ripple of laughter runs around the table. “I didn’t even know what to say. I think I short-circuited for a second and said ‘The second one,’ and she said nothing, pulled out the forms from her top drawer like she knew I was coming.” You pause for dramatic effect. “The only empty field was the date.”

The table laughs.

“In fairness, you were the least subtle people on the planet,” JJ says.

You roll your eyes. “What I’m getting at is that Strauss was far more… liberal than any of us gave her credit for.” You glance at Dave, whose smirk is just starting when you cut him off. “Ew. No.”

Another laugh. After a moment, the table grows quiet again, pensive. More stories bounce around for some time, your dinners all finished, your wine glasses refilled, and Dave taps his spoon against his glass.

“Last year, right here, we had a… very different kind of celebration. Of life.” He pauses, looking at JJ. “Of love.” He looks at you and Aaron, where you lean against his shoulder. “And good people. This year it’s the, um, other side of that. Because, well, that’s what families do.” He pauses, looking at Spencer. “It’s been a hard year.” Spencer ducks his head. “But tonight, we celebrate a life well lived, well loved.” He raises his glass and the rest of you join him. “To a good woman. An even better mother. Our friend."

Dave takes a steadying breath, his fingers tightening around the stem of his glass.

“Who I will miss very much.”

+++

tagging: @chronicallybubbly @derekluvbot @jhiddles03 @soupyamanda @percysley @viennasolace @youngcowisland @beyscape @reidfile @ssaic-jareau @sochalant @acidicbloody @duchesschameleon

#fic stuff #ajf stuff #tali is fucking masterful my dudes

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kahvikirahvi · 2 years ago

Photo

Miami Master Bedroom Example of a huge transitional master light wood floor bedroom design with gray walls

#open floor plan #design west #bedroom #model home #talis park #hardwood flooring #master bedroom seating

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totheexperts · 2 years ago

Photo

Miami Master Bedroom Example of a huge transitional master light wood floor bedroom design with gray walls

#open floor plan #design west #bedroom #model home #talis park #hardwood flooring #master bedroom seating

0 notes

jhyoos · 2 months ago

Text

Off Limits

chapter one : cold hearted snake

soccer player vi x talis reader

mentions : player vi, besti ekko, romance, lesbianism, modern au, college au, drama, abby tlou, ellie tlou, cheerleader reader, mention of sex, mentions of overdosing

notes: semi long chapter so get some snacks, turn your fan on and rub your feet together

edit: i ended up changing nyu to asu (arcane state university)

next chapter ->

"Jayce… don’t piss me off," you mumbled groggily, swatting at the air as you turned away from the light creeping in through the curtains. Your brother had this awful habit of waking you up early, and this time, it was no different. You groaned as you felt the edge of his foot on your nightstand, a clear sign that he wasn’t planning to leave until you gave him the attention he craved.

"Please, sis. Just tell me if they go good with my outfit. It's my junior year. I gotta look fresh," Jayce said, his voice high-pitched and over-the-top, just the way it always was when he was seeking validation.

You blinked open one eye, then the other, squinting up at him. The sight of his goofy grin—complete with his messy hair—did nothing to help the headache that was already forming. He was holding a pair of sneakers in one hand, his new must-have shoes for the school year.

You rubbed your eyes and sighed, giving him the most unimpressed look you could muster. "Yeah, Jayce. You look good," you said flatly, trying to roll over and go back to sleep.

But Jayce, of course, wasn’t done. He let out an exaggerated sigh and plopped down on the edge of your bed, his body taking up far too much space. "Don’t go back to sleep, c’mon! It’s your first day here at ASU. You gotta make a statement," he said, wiggling his eyebrows, clearly proud of his well-meaning, annoying attempt to motivate you.

You cracked open an eye again, giving him a deadpan stare. "I don’t want to hear it, Jayce. You’re lucky I’m even awake right now."

Jayce chuckled, nudging you lightly with his foot. "Get up, you lazy bum. I need to know if this shirt works with my new kicks or not. It’s important!"

You sighed, sitting up slowly, still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. Looking at him—his eager face, his ridiculous outfit—wasn’t helping your mood. You glanced at his sneakers, then his shirt, then his whole vibe. Jayce looked like he was trying way too hard to impress everyone on his first day back. He had his typical “I’m cool” swagger on display, and you weren’t sure if you should laugh or just roll your eyes harder.

"Yeah, Jayce. You look good," you muttered, not really caring but knowing that was the answer he wanted to hear.

Jayce leaned in closer, his face inches from yours, all dramatic as he asked, "Really? I mean, really? You sure about that? ‘Cause I need you to be my fashion consultant today."

You shook your head, not even bothering to reply to his antics. You were too tired for this. But he wasn’t backing down. He was, after all, Jayce—a master at annoying people to no end.

"Don’t make me get Mom on the phone, you know she’s got the best opinions," he teased, but you could hear the hint of excitement in his voice. He wasn’t just annoying you for attention; he genuinely seemed to need your approval.

You shot him a glare. "If you don’t stop, I’ll tell Mom you’ve been wearing the same pair of socks for two days."

Jayce’s grin faltered, just for a second, before he playfully shoved your shoulder. "Low blow, sis. Low blow."

Finally, you could hear him sigh in defeat. "Fine. I’m leaving, I’m leaving. Get up, though! Or I swear, I’ll drag you out of bed myself."

You stared at him as he got up and headed toward the door, but not without another remark. "Oh, and don't even think about that raggedy bus today. We’re taking my car. And you're making a statement whether you like it or not."

The door clicked shut behind him, and for a moment, there was silence—glorious silence.

You glanced at the time on your phone. 5:47 AM. With a groan, you threw the covers off and rolled out of bed.

The thought of the first day at ASU made your stomach churn with nerves, but you couldn't show it. Not after all the teasing and endless talk of “making a statement” from your brother. You needed to at least pretend like you had it all together. So, with a loud sigh, you shuffled into the bathroom for a shower, hoping the cold water would wake you up enough to deal with the day ahead.

As you stood under the stream of water, you tried to clear your head. You'd never been one for drama, but here you were, starting college at one of the most prestigious schools in the country. It was supposed to be exciting. New people, new opportunities, new everything. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were stepping into something much bigger than you were ready for.

Still, there was no turning back now.

You had spent your freshman and sophomore years in Italy, a place you quickly grew to love. It was a dream come true—walking cobblestone streets, sipping espresso in tiny cafes, and studying architecture and art history in a country that felt alive with culture and tradition. At first, you were nervous about being so far from home, but Italy embraced you with open arms, and soon, it felt more like home than your actual home ever had.

The plan had been simple: you would study abroad, and Jayce would come with you. Your mom had made it clear that he had the option to join you. “Think about it,” your mom had said, “two years of sibling bonding while experiencing a whole new world.” But, of course, Jayce had shrugged it off.

"Pass," he'd said without hesitation. "All my friends are here. Plus, who's gonna keep the soccer team alive without me?"

You’d rolled your eyes when he said it, but deep down, his refusal stung. He didn’t even consider it. And as much as you hated to admit it, part of you had wanted him there. Sure, he was annoying and constantly in your space, but he was also your big brother—the one who always knew how to make you laugh when you were stressed, the one who looked out for you when no one else did. Without him, you felt a little more alone than you were ready to admit.

But Italy had been a journey all its own. You’d found your rhythm there, made lifelong friends, and grown in ways you never expected. You learned to navigate bustling markets in Florence, spent lazy afternoons sketching by the canals in Venice, and even picked up enough Italian to argue with locals over gelato flavors. It wasn’t just a study abroad experience; it was a transformation.

Then, two years flew by faster than you thought they would. And just like that, it was time to say goodbye to everything you’d built in Italy. The narrow alleyways you knew like the back of your hand, the corner cafe where the barista always greeted you with a warm "Ciao, bella," and the friends who had become family. It wasn’t easy leaving it all behind, but the opportunity to finish your degree at home on a full-ride scholarship was too good to pass up.

There was one silver lining to returning home: Ekko. Your best friend since middle school. He’d been the one constant in your life before you left for Italy, and as much as you loved your new friends abroad, no one quite compared to Ekko. He was like a brother to you, but cooler than Jayce ever could be—not that you’d ever tell Jayce that to his face.

Ekko was in ASU with a full ride scholarship majoring in Engineering, balancing school with being on the soccer team alongside Jayce. The two of them had always been close, despite being complete opposites. Jayce was loud, confident, and always seeking the spotlight, while Ekko was more laid-back and analytical, content to let his skills speak for themselves. The idea of seeing them again—especially Ekko—was one of the few things keeping you grounded as you prepared to face New York after two years away.

After your last class wrapped up, you decided to head over to the campus coffee shop to grab something to eat. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods hit you as soon as you walked in. You ordered an iced coffee and a bagel sandwich before making your way outside, where small tables with umbrellas dotted the courtyard.

Finding an empty table near the edge of the patio, you set your things down and took a seat. The campus buzzed around you as students chatted or hurried to their next destination. Sipping your coffee, you opened your book and began reading while occasionally taking bites of your sandwich.

As you lost yourself in the story, two hands suddenly grabbed your shoulders, making you jolt and nearly drop your sandwich. Your head whipped around, your heart racing, only to be met with a familiar face—Ekko.

“Holy—Ekko!” you exclaimed, standing up with a wide grin.

He laughed, his grin just as big as yours. “Surprise!”

Without hesitation, you threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly. “I missed you so much,” you said, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

“Missed you too,” Ekko said, his arms wrapping around you firmly. After a moment, he pulled back slightly, his hands resting on your shoulders as he took a good look at you.

You twirled around dramatically, giving him a full view of your outfit. His brows shot up in surprise as he took it all in. “Damn… Italy changed you in more ways than one. What happened to my (Y/N) who wore oversized hoodies and partied like a rockstar every other weekend?”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “She’s dead, but I still love a good party,” you quipped.

Ekko leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed and a playful smirk on his face. “There’s gonna be a first-day bonfire tonight. Good music, new faces, and…” he paused for effect, “…Caitlyn Kiramman, the cheer captain, might be there. You could ask her about whether there’s a chance you’re on the team since you submitted that video for tryouts.”

Your face lit up with excitement. “You always come in clutch,” you said with a grin. “Only if you’re taking me, though.”

Ekko shook his head, his smirk turning into a sheepish grin. “Can’t. I’ve got a date for the bonfire.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Aw, really? Who’s the lucky girl?”

“A girl named Jinx. She’s in most of my classes. Thought she was cute, so I asked her out,” he said, shrugging like it was no big deal. “She surprisingly said yes.”

“Surprisingly?” you teased, folding your arms and leaning toward him. “Please, Ekko, you’ve got more game than you think. Good for you, seriously.”

He chuckled, his cheeks dusted with a hint of pink. “Thanks, I guess. What about you? Got your eye on any girls here yet?”

You grinned mischievously, your voice dripping with confidence. “Always.”

Ekko leaned in slightly, his eyebrows raised. “Oh, really?” he asked teasingly.

“Yup. Vi,” you said with no hesitation. “She’s really hot—pink hair, tattoos on her back. God, I would love to take a ride on h—”

“Oh, fuck no,” Ekko interrupted, his voice sharp as his expression shifted to something between disbelief and warning.

You blinked, startled by his sudden tone. “What?!”

Ekko groaned, running a hand down his face. “She’s a player, (Y/N). I should know. She’s on the soccer team with Jayce. Don’t mess with her—you’ll get hurt. Real shit.”

You frowned, confused by his sudden seriousness. “What are you talking about? She seemed fine when I talked to her earlier.”

He pushed off the wall and crossed his arms again, his expression dark. “I’ve seen it happen. She’s got game, yeah, but not the kind you want. I don’t like the way she moves. I used to hang out with her, but I stopped for a reason. The only time I’m even around her is when Jayce is.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Okay, but maybe she’s different now.”

Ekko narrowed his eyes at you, unimpressed. “Look, I’m just saying—don’t let her mess with your head, (Y/N). You’re better than that. Just…be careful, okay?”

You rolled your eyes, though a small part of you appreciated his concern. “Fine, Dad.”

When you got home, Ekko’s warning was the last thing on your mind. Vi was texting you, and there was no way you were going to ignore her. She was too hot not to respond to. Balancing your bag on your shoulder and your coffee cup in one hand, you pushed the door shut with your foot. As soon as the door clicked behind you, you checked your phone again, a grin spreading across your face as you read her latest message.

Heading upstairs, you scrolled through the playful back-and-forth between you and Vi, feeling giddy. The attention she was giving you was addictive. You were so lost in the conversation that you didn’t notice Jayce stepping out of the bathroom until you nearly bumped into him.

He stood there with a towel slung around his waist, droplets of water still clinging to his skin. He raised an eyebrow as he noticed the stupid grin on your face. “The fuck are you smiling about, dopey?” he teased, crossing his arms over his chest. “You look a little too gay right now.”

You rolled your eyes and brushed past him. “Ha, ha, hilarious,” you muttered, holding your phone a little closer as you tried to move toward your room.

But Jayce wasn’t going to let it go. He reached over and snatched the phone right out of your hand.

“Jayce! What the fuck!” you yelped, spinning around and reaching for it.

Jayce held it out of your reach, laughing as he glanced at the screen. But his laughter quickly died when he saw the name at the top of the conversation. His eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “You’re fucking around with Vi?” he asked, his tone dripping with judgment.

“It’s the first day, so not yet, clearly,” you snapped, grabbing your phone back with an irritated glare.

Before you could retreat to your room, Jayce stepped in front of you, blocking your path. His expression shifted to something more serious, almost protective. “Whatever you’re doing with her, stop. She’s a close friend of mine, and she gets around, (Y/N). It’ll be awkward as hell, and on top of that, I’m not trying to get embarrassed by you.”

You rolled your eyes, brushing past him. “Whatever,” you muttered dismissively, though his words stung.

Jayce didn’t move from where he stood, following you with his eyes as you turned toward the stairs. “Hey, wait. Are you going to the bonfire tonight?”

You stopped and turned to face him. “Yeah, Ekko has a date, so I need a ride. Can you take me? Mom and Dad still haven’t gotten me a car yet, so I’m stuck.”

Jayce shook his head immediately, folding his arms again. “Oh, you’re not going. No way. Vi’s gonna be there, and that’s officially off fucking limits.”

Your jaw dropped in disbelief. “What? What the fuck, Jayce! I can’t even go socialize?”

Jayce gave you a hard look. “You’re not going to socialize, (Y/N). I know how you are when it comes to alcohol and…other shit. Or do I need to call Mom and tell her you need to go back to Italy after I let you relapse?”

His words hit you like a slap. Your stomach dropped as anger flared in your chest, and your eyes burned with unshed tears. “Fuck you, Jayce,” you said, your voice trembling with a mix of rage and hurt. “What a low blow.”

You yanked your arm out of his grip and stormed up the stairs, slamming your bedroom door shut behind you. You locked it for good measure, leaning against it as hot tears began to roll down your cheeks.

Outside the door, Jayce’s voice softened, guilt creeping into his tone. “Wait, sis… I didn’t mean it seriously,” he said, knocking lightly.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t even look at him right now.

When it became clear you weren’t going to answer, Jayce sighed. “Let me know if you want anything to eat when I get back,” he said quietly before walking away. The sound of his footsteps faded down the hall, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

While you sat on your bed, still upset over the argument with Jayce, your phone buzzed. You glanced at it, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw it was a text from Vi.

Vi: Are you coming to the bonfire party? I wanna see you.

You hesitated for a moment before typing back.

You: Can’t. My brother’s not letting me go. And I don’t have a car. He was my only ride.

Her reply came almost instantly.

Vi: Well, I have a car. Give me your location and get ready. I’ll pick you up, beautiful.

A grin spread across your face despite everything, and you quickly sent her your location. Tossing your phone onto the bed, you sprang up and went straight to your closet. You scanned your options until you finally settled on a black fitted mini-dress paired with, a denim jacket draped off your shoulders, and chunky black boots. The look was edgy yet flirty—perfect for a night out.

You glanced in the mirror and realized your makeup was a mess from crying. Grabbing a makeup wipe, you cleaned up the smudges, reapplying your eyeliner and lipstick carefully. After smoothing out your hair and giving yourself one last look-over, your phone buzzed again.

“I’m parked outside the complex,” the text read.

“Shit,” you muttered, scrambling to find a cute bag. You tossed your phone, keys, wallet, and lip gloss inside, then rushed out the door.

As you left your apartment complex, you gave the doorman a quick wave. “Goodnight!” you called, like always.

“Have fun!” he replied with a knowing smile.

Outside, a sleek car idled by the curb. You spotted Vi leaning against the driver’s side, her pink hair glowing under the streetlights. She grinned when she saw you, and as soon as you slid into the passenger seat, she leaned over and kissed you.

You froze for a second, caught off guard, but then you melted into the kiss, returning it shyly. When she pulled back, her smirk was devilish.

“Nice place you live at,” she said, glancing at the complex as she started driving. “A friend of mine stays in one of these apartments. You must have a lot of money to live here.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

Vi gave you a quick side glance, her smile softening. “Well, good for me. I like spoiled girls,” she teased.

As soon as you and Vi stepped onto the sandy beach where the bonfire party was in full swing, she casually draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close. The heat of the fire reflected in her smirk as she held you there like she had no care in the world.

Immediately, you pulled away, glancing around to make sure no one—especially your brother—had noticed. “Stop,” you hissed, swatting at her arm. “You’re going to blow my cover. I’m not even supposed to be here, remember?”

Vi chuckled, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her ripped jeans, clearly enjoying your paranoia. “Fine, fine,” she relented. “But text me when you’re ready to leave.”

“Where are you going?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m gonna go find Jayce and keep him occupied,” she said with a smirk, already scanning the crowd. “Don’t worry, princess. I got you.”

“Cool,” you said with a nod before slipping away from her, weaving through the bodies of drunken students and the glow of the bonfire’s flickering flames.

Your eyes darted across the party until they landed on Ekko. He was in the middle of a crowd, dancing with a girl who had strikingly light blue hair, her movements wild and carefree as they swayed to the music.

“Hey, Ekko!” you called out over the sound of the music.

Ekko turned his head at the sound of your voice, a grin forming when he spotted you pushing through the crowd toward him. “(Y/N)!” He gestured for you to come closer. “This is Jinx. Jinx, this is (Y/N), my best friend since middle school.”

You smiled, sticking out a hand for her to shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Instead of shaking your hand, Jinx’s face lit up, and she immediately pulled you into a tight hug. “Sorry, but I’m a hugger, girl,” she said, squeezing you before letting go. “And middle school? That’s so adorable!”

You chuckled. “Yep. We used to do chemistry projects together in high school and blow shit up. My parents had to pay millions.”

Ekko laughed, shaking his head. “Yup, we were menaces,” he agreed, nudging you playfully.

Jinx grinned, eyes flickering between the two of you. “I like you already.”

The party was loud, the music pulsing through the air as laughter and shouts filled the night. You were mid-conversation with Jinx when suddenly, a random frat guy shoved an opened Cayman Jack into your hands. The condensation from the bottle chilled your skin as you instinctively curled your fingers around it.

“Chug, pretty thang,” he slurred, grinning like he had just offered you the holy grail.

“Oh, um… no, it’s okay. I’m taking a break from drinking,” you said, trying to hand it back to him.

Instead of taking the rejection, he popped the cap off with his thumb and shoved it back toward you, his eyes wild with excitement. “Chug!” he chanted.

At first, it was just him, but soon, others joined in, the word picking up like a wave, echoing louder and louder around you. "Chug! Chug! Chug!"

Ekko shot you a worried look, his lips parting as if he was about to intervene, but before he could, the pressure of a dozen eyes on you—waiting, watching, expecting—became too much. Without thinking, you tilted your head back and downed the entire drink, the carbonation burning your throat, the alcohol hitting your stomach like a rock.

“There, happy?” you said, shoving the now-empty can into the frat guy’s chest.

He let out a cheer, eyes gleaming with drunken satisfaction. Then, in a final act of bravado, he crushed the can against his forehead with a loud crack and stumbled off into the crowd.

Ekko’s hand was on your shoulder in an instant, his grip firm but gentle. “Fuck…” you muttered, your stomach twisting. Your fingers trembled slightly, your body already remembering the ghosts of your past. “I haven’t had a drink since I…”

Ekko rubbed your shoulder reassuringly. “I’ll get you some water.” His voice was calm, but you saw the worry in his eyes. He turned to Jinx. “Watch her for me?”

Jinx gave a quick nod, her face uncharacteristically serious.

Ekko disappeared into the crowd, leaving you standing there with the taste of alcohol still lingering on your tongue.

“What’s wrong?” Jinx asked, tilting her head.

“I—I just…” Your voice faltered.

Before you could finish, a voice sliced through the noise, sharp and furious.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Your stomach dropped. You turned to see Jayce standing a few feet away, his face twisted with anger, his fists clenched at his sides.

“I’m just hanging out, Jayce,” you said, trying to keep your voice even.

Jayce scoffed, stepping closer. “(Y/N), I can smell the alcohol on your breath.” His eyes darkened, his voice tight with frustration. “Shit, dude—not even a whole two weeks and you’re already relapsing?”

Your throat tightened. “I’m not relapsing. I was just pressured into taking a drink by those stupid frat boys,” you argued.

“Bullshit,” Jayce snapped.

Ekko returned just in time, a bottle of water in his hand, but he barely had time to process what was happening before Jayce was right in your face again.

You barely heard him, your mind spiraling as the weight of his words sank in.

Yes, you were an addict in high school.

After your dad’s death, you took it harder than anyone else in your family. You fell in with the wrong people, numbing the pain however you could. The night you overdosed, you had been left in an alley, a needle in your arm, your body convulsing, vomiting, barely clinging to life.

Your mother couldn’t handle it anymore.

Instead of sending you to rehab, she sent you to Italy—far away, somewhere new, somewhere she hoped you could start over. And you did. You got therapy. You worked on yourself. You fixed yourself.

But now, standing here with Jayce looking at you like you were a failure, it felt like all that progress meant nothing.

His next words shattered whatever was left of your resolve.

“Go home,” he said coldly. “I don’t care how you get home—just go.”

Then, without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your vision blurring with tears.

Ekko’s hand found yours, squeezing it gently. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

Jinx nodded, stepping closer. “Yeah, I’ll come too.”

You swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in your throat. “Thanks. Just—let me say goodbye to someone first.”

Ekko nodded. “Cool. We’ll wait by the car.”

He took Jinx’s hand, leading her toward the parking lot, leaving you alone in the middle of the party, feeling like the ground beneath you was slowly cracking apart.

You pushed through the crowd, weaving between sweaty, drunken bodies, the pulse of the music thrumming in your ears. The fire in the middle of the yard crackled, casting flickering orange light over the partygoers gathered around it. Your breath was shallow as you scanned the area, searching for Vi.

And then you saw her.

She was standing by the fire, her red hair illuminated by the flames, her toned arms flexing slightly as she laughed at something. But she wasn’t alone.

A girl with long blue hair stood close—too close. She traced her fingers up and down Vi’s arm, her nails dragging over the inked skin like she had every right to touch her. Vi smirked, that signature, cocky grin that made your heart race earlier in the night. But now, it only made your stomach twist.

Then, before you could even process what was happening, Vi grabbed the girl by the waist and pulled her in. Their lips crashed together in a deep, messy kiss—not just a casual peck, not like the ones you and Vi had shared. This was something more. Their bodies were flush, Vi’s hands gripping the girl’s hips, their mouths moving like they’d done this before.

You felt a lump in your throat, but not because you were heartbroken. No, this wasn’t heartbreak. It was disappointment.

Because everyone was right.

Vi was a player. A flirt. She wasn’t the kind of girl to settle down—not even for you.

Without a second thought, you turned away, pushing through the crowd with more force this time, ignoring the people who grumbled or stumbled in your wake. Vi didn’t even see you.

By the time you reached the car, Ekko and Jinx were already waiting.

“You good?” Ekko asked as you slid into the backseat.

You didn’t answer. You just stared out the window, watching as buildings and trees blurred past. The streetlights flickered across your face, casting shadows that stretched and disappeared.

You didn’t cry.

You didn’t even feel angry.

You just felt disgusted.

For the first time in two years, that familiar, suffocating feeling crept back in—the one that made your skin crawl, the one that made you want to disappear.

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