𝗗𝗢𝗡'𝗧 𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗠𝗘 | 𝘼. 𝙃𝙊𝙏𝘾𝙃𝙉𝙀𝙍

twenty three

'I'm what?' your voice raised itself at Hotch, hands connecting with the table as you arose from your seat at the front of his desk. He too got up and threw the file in front of you, a large stamp of red on the front. PROBATION.

'Calm down, Agent. You have no say in this and in all honesty nor do I. This is out of my control,' he shook his head scrupulously, knowing you were furious. Gesturing your hands upwards and smacking them back down to your sides, you looked around.

'How long?' you spoke hoarsely, not once meeting his vivid stare.

'Two weeks to a month, depending on your behaviour in the foreseeable future. Pull another stunt and you could be looking to up to three or even temporary suspension. Don't push it, Beck. I've done all I can,' Aaron administered, a hint in his tone telling you to leave. Before you did, your phone buzzed.

'Something wrong?' Hotchner commented on your disgruntled look, to which you snapped from the fixation on your phone.

'Everything's fine,' you shook, scraping every strand of hair back with the sweat from your palms sticking it in place; leaving, Garcia beckoned the both of you out and into the briefing.

Barely even returning from the previous- and what could have been described as 'eventful' case- once again you found yourself on the jet with Hotch transfixed on you. Moving from his eyes to his lips you could see the pinkness of them and how he pursed them deep in thought. The furrows on his forehead were increasing as he looked away for a moment and back to his file, analysing every detail intensely; his hands were shifting about as he regained his glare to you and then to Rossi as he spoke up- blocking Aaron from your view as he loitered above him. Reid shouted.

'Hey guys, look at what the report says about the body found two weeks prior,' he pointed, the rest of the team gathering and sitting in mismatched places, 'The M.E report implies that coyotes were responsible for the bone decay and breakage, however the skull is broken in one spot- here,' he circled with his finger.

'What are you getting at, Reid? They only gave us this because it was a body found earlier than our unsub began killing,' Morgan didn't follow.

'Their skull is too broken here for coyotes to have done this. I think it was bashed in,' he stated, lifting his head, and sharing the same starstruck glance as the rest of the team.

               Under Rossi's careful eye, you thought it arrogant that Hotch didn't put you under his own watch- nevertheless, you didn't really feel like being watched by an eagle- at least Dave is a little more laid back, you thought. The forensic pathologist lurched forward into the strobe of light.

'Can you determine the gender, age or time of death?' Rossi proposed.

'Well, she's clearly female- you can see from the shape of her face and pelvic bone alignment. Probably no older than thirty or younger than twenty, and her death- well, maybe considering decay and how the heat of the desert was severe, I'd say around a week before she was found by the sheriff,' the examiner nodded, seeming as though she hadn't found a lot from the remains. She wasn't done, but you weren't even started.

'She was pregnant. Or had been,' you said in malice, aware the unsub had killed a pregnant woman or could've kept her child.

'That is correct, Agent,' the smaller woman agreed- Rossi was stunned. Turning, thanking & leaving the room, your colleague followed hastily and was bubbling with an array of questions.

'Do you think this is mother-figure related trauma? Maybe abandonment or loss at a young age?'

'I reckon so, either he still has their children, or they were pregnant before abduction,' you walked and informed.

'They?' Dave asked.

'This may be the first but certainly not the last,' you mouthed loudly, certifying your assertion.

               Wolfishly, you scoffed the small box of chicken and vegetables, JJ cradling a large bag of Cheetos and Emily with her teriyaki portion. Penelope was chowing on a warmed muffin as she drank from her octopus mug whilst you all sat around a table in a room that was rather cramped but comfortable. Sat with bedsocks resting on the chairs, Garcia was keeping you up to date with any late news or information, yet for the most part, the main topic of conversation was JJ's upcoming wedding.

Full of 'awws' and 'ooohs', the topic was vastly focused on her dress- a downright gorgeous gown from her mother- not to mention the decided venue which was a privately reserved lodge that a garden trailed from, attached to a crescent lake. It was decorated with beams and fairy lights and oh god, it was perfect. Answering the door to her fiancé, the bride to be scuttled to the knock and closed the door- to which the remaining three placed your hands on your hearts and cooed. Next to you, the male team members had a room to themselves as the hostel was rather small, and you could hear them bickering over some guy subject and all giggled- still mad under your probation that Prentiss brought up.

'So Hotch put you under Rossi? How long?' she clicked her tongue as she swallowed her food.

'Depending on my actions, two weeks to three months,' you smacked the sentence onto the table and both girlfriends sighed in consolation.

'That is the suck-suckish of all suckishness!' Penelope declared, and you concurred. Morgan let himself in and through the flicker of the door you could see the fiancé of your friend; he greeted Penelope and perched on the bed for around twenty minutes until Hotch too leaned through into the room and told everyone to get some sleep. Once again, you found yourself staring at the ceiling as dusk lay upon the city you were now in; the low huffs of the girls echoing in the room. It wouldn't do, your body was awake and there was nothing you could do. The headache had overwhelmed you by a long shot- air, you needed air.

Pulling at your hair, voices rose and fell within.

'Agent, Agent, Agent,' he spoke, 'What are you doing?' Hotch faded forward, crossing his arms & scrutinising. 'Aaron?' 'That's Hotch to you' he corrected. Offended, he circled you and sang his demeanours, 'What are you doing?' he repeated, 'Acting up in front of the team like that, pull yourself together. You'll never get me back like that' he warned. 'But it's the only thing I can think of, Hotch. I'm running out of ideas' you argued back to the ghost of him. He stood before you with both hands on your arms, 'Beck. You're running out of time.'

And the words of his memory flustered you on the balcony, the cold air hitting you smartly- like a bully.

'Beck,' Rossi spoke up on the opposing balcony, 'What are you doing?'

'Oh- I was just, uh-'

'You were calling out his name,' the Italian man said.

'I- sorry.'

'It was only a dream, a violent one at that,' he soothed.

'I'm living the nightmare,' you laughed quietly, 'What are you doing up too?'

'Just,' he paused, 'Thinking about the case. It's working me up because I cant fathom why he would dump the bodies all the way out in the desert; I mean yes, he's inflicting the same damage he felt onto others and, yes it rids the evidence but, just, why?'

'David Rossi, the case he's finally stumped on,' you chuckled with him, resting your hands on your chest, 'I ask myself the same question every case. Why do they grow up and become killers- but I guess we'll never truly know, will we? We just come to work, try to lock them up behind bars and go home knowing we make the world a little safer each day. It's just what we do and that's the norm at this point. I wouldn't bother questioning it, there's not really an answer,' you advised your probation agent and he nodded, getting up.

'Make sure you get some sleep, Beck. You look tired.'

'I will,' you smiled, knowing full well you would not move from that balcony until the sun kissed your face at dawn.