Battlecry | Criminal Minds (gxg)

Chapter 1

~Present Day, April, 2010~

I startle awake, my eyes flashing open to find darkness waiting. Our apartment is quiet, save for the sound of the ceiling fan above us. A light breeze slithers across my skin, goosebumps rising on my flesh.

Elle rolls over in my arms to face me. She must have felt me wake up. She moans something unintelligible into my chest.

I rub her back with one hand, the other buried beneath the pillows. "Shh," I whisper. "Go back to sleep, baby."

Elle picks her head up from my chest, her eyes slowly pulling open. "What's wrong?" she mumbles.

I stroke her hair. "Just a nightmare. I'm okay."

She frowns, looking slightly more awake. "About what?"

"I don't know," I answer honestly. The details are already slipping away. I remember... just a feeling, really. Fear. So that's what I tell Elle. I tell her everything. I've shared nearly every piece of my life with her since the bomb at Washington Victors. And that was almost three years ago.

She wraps her arms around my waist, pulling our bodies closer together. "How come you never remember your dreams, unless they're about me?" she mutters.

I smile and kiss her head. "You're the only thing worth remembering."

She buries her head against my collarbone, but I know she smiles. I'm shirtless, wearing my typical pajama shorts and a bra. Her breath tickles my bare skin as she sighs. I resume rubbing her back as she drifts off into sleep.

I yawn in the darkness, my eyelids growing heavy. I try to recall the dream that woke me, but I don't remember anything important. It was nighttime, possibly... it smelled like summertime...

My mind slides away as the dream evaporates. The only dreams I've ever remembered in full involve Elle. Ones where she bled out in my arms, or touched me until I was filled with euphoria. Since she came back, those dreams have subsided along with my panic attacks.

For three years, I've woken up beside Elle nearly every morning. I've never been happier in my life.

I know what you're thinking: Three years? Why are you not fucking married yet?

Believe me. I'm working on it. But I have never been more clueless as to what to do. Elle deserves nothing less than perfection. I cannot, cannot, screw this up. And work hasn't made it easier. The only time we get to ourselves are the weekends, which cases sometimes interrupt. The rest of our days are spent solving cases with the team and coming home too exhausted to do anything but sleep.

Tomorrow-technically later this morning, according to my clock-is Monday. The weekends have never felt so short. All the time I spend with her seems to rush by. I can never get enough.

Sometimes I lie awake for hours after she falls asleep, because I don't want to miss her. I hold her in my arms and get lost in the scent of her skin. I whisper I love you into her ear and listen for the gentle sound of her breathing. And when I finally drift off to sleep, it's to thoughts of her.

Elle shifts in my arms, pulling me back to the moment. Dawn breaks outside, the apartment slowly growing lighter. I doze on and off for the next hour, waiting for morning to come. Waiting for Elle to wake up and kiss me the way she does every morning, first on the cheek, then my lips. For her voice to drip with love when she whispers good morning, and for her eyes to light up when I mumble morning, beautiful.

When we do get up, Elle all but drags me out of bed. She stands and comes around to my side of the mattress, tugging on my arm.

"Carli! You're going to make us late!" she complains, even as she laughs.