When Liv faced a loss that would rewrite her entire life, she stepped away from her work. A year and a half later, she returns to the BAU in search of normalcy; so she can finally move on. On a new team, Liv is immediately thrown into the game of ca...
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"I'm worried about you, Liv." Her therapist, Sydney, said, sitting in an adjacent chair. She was playing with her necklace again, looping it around her finger and unlooping it repeatedly. "I think the routine of work will be good for you, yes. But are you sure you won't be too invested?"
"With all due respect, I've always left emotion out of my job. If you don't, it ruins you." Liv corrected.
"Right but, not invested in the victims, Liv. Invested in the outcomes." Her therapist had the habit of chewing the end of her pen when she waited for Liv to answer, which secretly drove her crazy, but she never said anything out of fear that if she didn't have the incentive to get her to stop, perhaps Liv would spend her whole session sitting in silence. She stared at the warm white walls. It had a hint of beige, as to not be too cool, too sterile. These were the things therapists did intentionally to try to create a welcoming space, yet still. Liv was staring at the warm walls and the plants in the window sill and the only thing making her want to speak was this godforsaken pen chewer.
"What are you implying?" She asked, already prepared for the answer.
"I think, you couldn't save Ben because there was no way for you to see it coming. You need control, Liv. I'm just afraid you might get too invested in saving everybody."
"Every agent struggles with that," She defended. "It's rare you suffer loses and don't think about the 'what if's?'"
"You're right." Sydney admitted, nodding to emphasize her agreement. "I guess, what my question is... is every time you can't save somebody, is it going to be his face that you see?"
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That day, no new cases came in, which meant one thing. Paperwork Day, which only doctor Reid was excited for. The rest of the crew grumbled and groaned as they continuously refilled their cups of coffee, trudging through the day with little enthusiasm and not hesitating to head out early. All except Liv and Hotch, one who had the most reason not to want to return home, and the other who had every reason to go. Liv thought of this as she sat at her desk, all the desk lamps around her switched off, and she looked at the distant silhouette of Hotch in his office, scribbling along the table in the same manner he had been for hours.
Liv looked at the clock. It was 8:30, and she was pretty sure that anyone with a four year old would be putting him to bed soon. With this in mind, and the hope to avoid her extremely vacant house, Liv set her papers aside and knocked on the door.
"Come in." She heard him say, and when she did, he only glanced up from his paper work for a second. "I thought you would've head home by now with the rest of the team."
"Late night, I guess." She said softly, shutting the door behind her.
"What can I do for you?"
"You've done most of the reports for our last case, I was wondering if you wanted me to finish them up for you. Maybe make it back home in time to see your son." Liv offered, trying to mask the desperation in her voice. She needed a reason to not go home.
Hotch looked up from his papers with a split expression, partially confused, and partially concerned. "You're asking for more work to do?"
Liv gave a nervous laugh, acknowledging that it did sound a little strange. "On my last team, we all filled out our own reports. I'm used to it. Besides, you have more of a reason to make it home early."
He looked back down at his desk, glancing over papers before shuffling them back into files and folders. "I appreciate it, though it isn't necessary."
Hotch still looked a little confused, and Liv wondered in the moment if he thought she was trying to win him over, or suck up to him to earn his favor. Her eyes flickered down to his desk, landing on a small framed photograph of a pretty blonde girl holding who she assumed to be his son, Jack. And for a moment, she was encouraged by the idea that he might get it. For a moment, she liked the idea that maybe it didn't take a therapist obnoxiously chewing her pen and asking a million questions to get her to open up. So Liv, for the first time in a while, had a little faith.
"I went on hiatus from my job after my husband died, suddenly. After that all I ever did was sit at home, because it was once his too, and it was the only way I could feel close to him. Not long ago I woke up one morning and forgot it was a house I ever shared. It feels normal, now, just being me. And it's terrible. So yes, I will take whatever work you will give me. Because you have an adorable four year old waiting for you at home." And all I have is an empty house. She thought, but left out.
Hotch stared back at her, and she had been expecting a look of more surprise on his face, but it wasn't there. Instead, he only looked at her with a small expression of empathy on his serious face. For once, it was empathy instead of pity. His eyes were full of it, no matter how little the features of his showed it. Liv realized then just how kind his eyes really were. "I understand." He said, dropping all air of confusion. Instead he neatly gathered his paperwork, handing it over to her in surrender.
Within minutes of her returning to her desk, he passed by her, lugging his briefcase and his coat. "Goodnight, Tate." He said as he passed by, and she gave a smile in response, nodding her head. He made it to the glass doors before he stopped, turning to her again. "And Liv," She looked up, only to see him watching her intently. "Thank you, really. Make sure to get some rest soon."
With that, he passed through the great glass doors, and let Liv to sit in the empty agency alone, busying herself with her paperwork and trying not to think about when the stack would end.
