𝗗𝗢𝗡'𝗧 𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗠𝗘 | 𝘼. 𝙃𝙊𝙏𝘾𝙃𝙉𝙀𝙍

twenty one

'Gun, vest. Leave them there,' George calloused, waving the blade across your face. Spencer had nearly lowered his gun completely and was pushing back anything and everything he could possibly have felt. Rossi was still and had his eyes locked on the unsub, watching the machete with his beady eyes, and daring not once to look away; he looked disappointed, but all you knew was that this was your decision. Shredding the velcro apart, your vest slid over your head with ease and you handed it to Reid, all the while his expression becoming more desperate, shaking his head in disbelief. No- no you absolutely weren't doing this- it was- it couldn't have been. But in reality, yes, you were.

'No,' he scolded as you were about to give away your earpiece too, 'I want them to hear you,' George commanded, and you shrunk the hand back to your side. A faint rustle came through the earpiece and Morgan's voice bolted out.

'Beck, what are you doing?' his tone rang with angst, but no reply escaped. In the silence you heard the clash of hands meeting a table at force. Hotch did that when he was mad. No- when he was enraged. Walking over and yanking your wrist behind you, George pulled you backward and you heard Spence's trainers screech on the damp floor as he stepped forward.

'Beck! No, Beck-' Hotch aggressed as you jolted across the rooftops; you remembered hearing him shout. You remembered hearing the pain in his voice as you soared through the sky and landed on the other side- to his relief. You remembered that day to the smallest detail. After this ordeal, a 'sit down agent' talk would definitely be on your waiting list. Even the slightest care in the world was not in your grasp about the talk Aaron would be dealing you with and what the rest of the team would have to say. With one hand around your neck, Danver tightened his grip, pulling you out and around the corners of the exit, forcing you into his car and driving away- but now, he had a gun to hand. Loaded.

                  'Why would she do that? What was she thinking?' Derek shouted the office down at Hotch, flailing his hands about and cursing under his breath.

'She's clearly not in the right frame of mind. She must have a reason nonetheless,' Hotchner soothed at the freshly cut gash Morgan was bearing.

'We have to get her back, Hotch.'

'And we will,' he folded his arms in a shifty way towards his agent. Although, yes, Aaron still had no recollection, some flickers would shine every now and then and you seemed to be the only one to notice. Gradually sweating as his hands folded around his jacket, Hotch paced in his office, pushing the fallen strands of hair from his face, and creasing back into his chair. He was angry with you as well as himself, blaming himself for your actions; upon this thought, he reached into his bottom drawer and found a glossy and slightly crumpled photo that light bounced from.

Yourself and him were smiling in the park at night and you had no idea how many times he would look at that photo each week and pound himself to the depths of a depression, wanting to remember, but to no avail. Right there and then he wanted to flip the desk just as he did every time he saw your smile and face in that one photo he discovered in his wallet when he was first allowed home from the hospital, yet his hands did not move until Garcia entered, and the photo was quickly hidden under a file.

'Sir.'

'What is it?' Hotch calmly said, furrowing his face as he entered the room. Garcia held the remote and pointed.

'Listen,' she spoke with a crack in her voice.

                   Matted and dry, you could feel the texture of your hair as it sat upon your neck like roadkill. It was crispy with blood from something you didn't remember. Oh god, not you too. Wait, you were driving, and you stopped- then, bam- that's the last you remember. Maybe the butt of a gun? Strapped to the chair, you could barely feel your hands as they writhed within the ropes and the same applied for your feet.

Danver had the decency to leave you with shoes- unlike so many of his victims- so the coldness of the floor was out of your judgement for now, but the chair you were tied to was uncomfortable. It poked into your back and made you arch it away as it pinched- the frail wood on the verge of collapse. Oh, he emerged from the shadow and smiled at you. What was it about serial killers and smiling at you? However, he rolled the gun up your neck and pressed it hard into your cheek, creasing up the left side of your face with a piece of hair pushed in too.

'Why?' he mocked, 'Why did you do that?' his tone was cynical.

'Why? You were going to harm an innocent woman. She didn't deserve this.'

'You're wrong, Agent- what was it? Beck?' he tortured, circling you like prey.

'I don't even think we're on a last name basis-' you retaliated, but the barrel of his weapon silenced you.

'Answer my question. Why?'

'Because I have nothing left to lose,' you scoffed, knowing it was true. 

'Oh, really? Let me guess. Dog?' he smirked, 'No. Parents?' which made you twitch just a fraction, 'No, they're already gone. Brother- oh nope, him too,' he stopped, observing you.

'What are you trying to achieve?'

'Hush and let me finish- husband?' you looked away, 'Girlfriend?' you raised your eyebrows and a hint of a sneer creeped in. Again, you were perfectly calm, 'Boyfriend.'

Your bagged eyes sunk and glared up to him. He smiled in his success, 'He wasn't my boyfriend. It doesn't matter anyway,' you scorned, making him kneel down in curiosity.

'And why's that?'

'I'm nothing to him now.' 

'What was that? I don't think they can hear you,' he reminded, to which made you squint. You had forgotten but it was too late now, 'Get it out,' he spoke over the click of the gun.

You swallowed, 'I'm nothing to him now.'

                       Not a word was spoken as your final words rang out from the speaker. The entire team was bewildered and still without a lead. Other agents and local officers were scraping the old building for any obligation to where George Danver was going but nothing had come up so far. JJ had her arms leaned against her torso with one hand resting upon her face, shaking her head at every sentence the unsub let go, whilst Prentiss and Rossi were listening intently for any change in tone. Morgan and Reid knew what you had done but still couldn't add up why, and Hotch- well, the picture he hid so nonchalantly was recurring in his mind, trying to get him to relay the day he took it with you and every memory surrounding it.

He straightened himself and loosened his tie, pausing the recording Garcia captured and breaking for the exit. Heads turned as he left, and they watched him close his door and disappear behind his desk. Once alone, Hotch reached back into that same drawer and pulled out your confidential file, scanning it repetitively for any anomaly in your behaviour. This was a common occurrence for you and that unsettled him just in the slightest. Over and over he saw, risky chances, takes chances, stupid decisions and he slammed the file shut, rubbing his eyes, and heading back to the round table.

'Every time she takes a chance, she seems to have reason. This is different,' Aaron gathered.

'She's being stupid,' Morgan jumped to conclusion and Prentiss lurched forward.

'Beck must have a reason. I mean, she was studying this unsub all night once this week and never saw this coming. She must know it's the only way,' Emily preached, and the team considered.

'Wait,' Spencer halted the trains of thought, 'Play that back. Stop it when he asks her to answer him,' and Garcia did so, 'Can you enhance that background noise?' and again she followed his command.

'I think I know where she is.'