𝗗𝗢𝗡'𝗧 𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗠𝗘 | 𝘼. 𝙃𝙊𝙏𝘾𝙃𝙉𝙀𝙍

nine

Crisp morning dew was still setting on the grass outside the BAU, but the team were called in already. This morning, it was cold and eerie- a stereotypical winter in Quantico; quiet, simple. Barely making any noise, you were approaching the briefing room to where two figures could be heard wittering. Already? You guessed correctly that it would be Hotch, but not Reid stood next to him. Maybe Garcia, but not Reid. Quickening your pace a little, you thought they'd started without you.

'Sorry I'm late, I thought you said five thirty,' you stumbled, flapping files in your hands. Both men stopped talking and stared at you, waiting for you to realise there was nobody else in the room. Wheeling the chair back, you sat down, briefcase still looped over your shoulder.

'Oh,' you pondered, 'I thought you were talking,' you said, gathering yourself together.

'No, no one was talking,' Reid covered, as everyone else flooded into the room.

Boarding the jet, Reid hustled himself towards you and begged for a game of chess. Fair enough, his young mind was bubbling with thought, but a game of chess at this time in the morning. Really? His slender figure jollied its way onto the plane, quickly setting up the pieces and whistling away to himself. Looking around, you questioned the air to see if anyone else was seeing this; usually, early calls meant you could rest on the journey, but apparently not today.

'Italian or Indian food?' he gestured the question at you.

'Excuse me?'

'Do you prefer Italian or Indian food?' he repeated.

'Italian- why?' you frowned.

'I was simply curious,' he said, turning all his pieces the right way and making his first move. Hotch walked past and looked in the opposite direction to you, barely acknowledging your existence. Spencer Reid kept talking, 'And would you rather go to see a movie or go to a theme park?'

'Spencer what is this about?' you called him Spencer, something you did only when provoked.

'I was just asking,' he said, glancing over at somebody behind him- looking a little offended.

'A theme park,' you smiled, picking at your hand, 'I'd go after the Italian and ride the wheel. It'd be nice to just, you know, see the stars,' and Spence clasped his lips together nodding as he didn't really understand the fascination.

After the game of chess, you must've dozed off when you heard Morgan calling your name but couldn't decipher if it were in this dream or real.

[ 'I won't tell you where she is. I don't have to. I just hope she doesn't give up on me.' You saw Hotch strapped to a chair, his face bruised and bloody; his infamous blue shirt torn, with blood around the tears from his cuts. You cried out his name but the man in front of you just kept attacking, prying Hotch for information- he didn't give in. 'Hotch!' you yelled again... ]

'Aaron...' you pleaded, this time for real; Reid was shaking you violently as you snapped out and saw him.

'Hey, you okay?' he queried, his hand still resting on your arm.

'Yes. I'm fine, what have I missed?' you sorted yourself out.

'You alright?' your boss asked- everyone was looking & you felt awful.

'Yes,' you scorned. He knew it was the terrors but didn't say anything. Morgan teased you for what you cried out, earning him a smack across the back of the head; JJ warned you, 'Now, children,' and you paused with a hand raised in the air. Briefing the team with new information, Garcia made the last fifteen minutes of the journey informative, before landing to solve murder. Thoughts ran like a train in your head, thinking non-stop right up until being introduced to the Chief of Police in Florida. What the fuck has Hotch gotten into him? Aaron doesn't make moves...does he?