𝗗𝗢𝗡'𝗧 𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗠𝗘 | 𝘼. 𝙃𝙊𝙏𝘾𝙃𝙉𝙀𝙍

seventeen

One finger was gliding over the lid of a pill bottle whilst you were sat at the round table at 5am- on the dot. Outside, hail pelleted the ground and you looked up- hearing it on the roof- which made your head ache as your eyes sunk back into your head- straining. This was maybe the second or third day you hadn't slept and the black bags below your eyes accounted for it. Clumping down the hallway, a heavy stepped figure made its way into the room and placed a coffee cup down on the table, wheeling out the chair and setting down.

'He's coming back today,' Rossi sighed, glancing at the orange translucent bottle that was nearly empty.

'I know,' you huffed.

'Beck,' he took a sip of his drink, 'How many of those have you taken?' he pondered, noticing that your head was somewhere your body couldn't take you.

'Enough,' you said with a touch of malice, just enough to make the agent back off for a little while. Spence entered the scene and frowned as he saw you; he knew too well how easy it was to get addicted to something- after his experience with dilaudid- and saw that same pathway carving itself with you. He stared and your head slowly turned towards him.

'What?' you looked him up and down and he raised a hand in submission to your glare. Not long after, Emily and Derek placed down their bags and glanced at each other as you sat still, simply looking at the bottle on the desk. Your head was heavy, but the minute SSA Aaron Hotchner walked in, you sat up and acted as if the world was right again. Out of anyone, he couldn't know how much you were affected and what was eating you up inside; as this unfolded, the team all took turns slanting at each other to comprehend what they had just witnessed: a near apocalyptic looking person had just righted themselves with little to no sleep, racked full of medication and now laid on that she was fine and perfectly able for the job. To say the least, they were astounded.

'Garcia,' he stated, and she got up to talk, her eyes fixed on you. Oh, you wondered- squinting a little, there are two of her. Hm, strange, you were looking at her and she too looked rather confused. Leaning back slightly, you nearly fell off the chair but steadied yourself on the table.

'Beck, you alright?' Morgan pushed his chair back, just in case you fell.

'I'm good,' you lied with blurred vision, and Garcia got back to talking. Hotch looked at you for a brief moment, only a moment where usually he wouldn't break his stare even if a gun were fired next to him. Feeling the quick pinch of his eyes, you looked as if to meet them, but he didn't notice at all.

'Wheels up in twenty,' the SSA told and the team got up fast, you? Not so much. Garcia stayed behind and pretended to pack up her files but waited for you to get up.

'Can you stand?' she kneeled down a little at the side of your chair. Your hand was shielding the light- it was near burning your eyes and you shook your head with a bit of haste.

'You need to go home,' she empathised- you were defiant.

'No,' you scolded her, 'I have to go with them,' you pointed a shaky hand and Penelope had no choice but to let you stand and walk away. Morgan looked into the office where she was stood, and the analyst shook her head; Morgan looked down and headed for the jet.

Even from a distance, the concrete before you pulsated as the whirring of the turbines nauseated you. Not enough to be sick but enough to make you consider the idea of going home. Holding your bag with both hands around each other, a chill slithered down your spine and in return, the wind shivered back up as Derek reached the side of you- his shades were down.

'You don't have to come just to prove a point you know,' he read.

'Prove what?' you said with a snarky tone. Shoot me.

'That you're fine, that you didn't just shovel a handful of pills. That you're coping?' he profiled, and you didn't like that, 'Go home, Beck,' he ordered, knowing it wasn't his call to make, yet hesitantly, you turned around. Walking back to the building, you passed Emily, JJ and Reid who were going to ask yet they didn't. Knowing it was best, even Spencer refrained from saying a word- he simply broke a small grin as you were doing the right thing. Before your hand could skim the doorknob, it opened and Hotch flustered you; then, you stepped to the side and let him pass- staring at the floor. He came out and just before turning looked at you. His head nodded and his lips clasped together because even though he didn't know you, he read you and would've told you do to the same if Morgan hadn't.

             One single beam of dusty light broke through a gap in the curtains you had drawn earlier that morning, highlighting a small patch of the floor where Salem lay quietly. You bent down and stroked his fur, liking the softness and comfort it brought to you, yet as you stood up, your hand instantly searched for the couch to brace your frame. Shaking a little, the room was bouncing and made your stomach twist slightly. Yes, the sofa did look rather appealing, so you pulled the blanket from the back of it and settled down- still unable to sleep. If you slept, he would go missing again or you'd relive the night you cherished over and over. Blinking, you reached for your phone and dialled the first number you saw.

'Garcia...' you cried, covering your face, trying to ignore the tears.

When Penelope finally knocked on the door, her embrace was warm and giving, making you forget what hurt you felt inside and feel for once. Feel more than sadness. She set up on a chair nearby and whipped up a warm (and in all honesty) very soothing drink for the nightmares; you reassured her she was okay to have her phone on speaker and that hearing the team's voices made you sleep a little easier- except for when Hotch's voice rang out. You closed your eyes and felt his touch and breath.

Garcia saw the emptiness in your posture as your hand clutched in the air, almost as if you thought he was really there- she put her earpiece in and tried to let you sleep. Once you woke up from the -what seemed brief- nap, Penelope was nowhere to be seen, but a tallish, dark figure was looking out of the window. He walked over as you rubbed your eyes.

'What time is it?' you asked Derek.

'About midnight,' he gestured a glass of water towards you, 'How do you feel?'

'Better,' you sneered, 'I'm guessing you sent her home'

'You know Garcia, she did not wanna leave,' he laughed.

'You can go now, Morgan, I don't wanna keep you,' you offered, raising a hand to where you thought the door was.

'You really don't know me at all, do you?' I'm staying, Beck,' he furrowed and looked at you, tilting his head. Without speaking- majorly because you didn't have the energy- you mouthed 'thank you' and tried to fall asleep once again. Morgan moved into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, ringing Rossi.

'Rossi. She's alright, better now.'

'Good, I'll let everyone know.'

'Even Hotch?' Derek leaned his body so he could see that you were asleep.

'Even Hotch' Rossi repeated, and Morgan hesitated.

'Alright, thanks Rossi,' he turned his head, ending the call and wondering exactly where you'd be if Aaron never forgot. Maybe if he was never taken in the first place. However, the agent stood looking and realised that a watchful eye would be placed over you from that moment on.