Please read authors note! =)
A/N I do not own Criminal Minds! This is a team fic, which will be slightly AU, and I am taking liberty to mess with the timeline of the show for plot purposes. Also, this is something I am writing to challenge myself with, so I will not be holding back with dragging these characters through the ringer.
Warnings: This is a Very Mature Story that will deal with Strong Themes and Sexual Situations. It will be Violent and there will be Triggers. If this is not your cup of tea, as I do not wish to offend, please do not read. Without further ado…
Please, enjoy!
Heart of Hades
Prologue: Incipere
"We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell."- Oscar Wilde
Very few things troubled the tenacious woman, but the cold prickling fear that surged down her spine – churning in the pit of her stomach – left her second-guessing her instincts, and fighting the urge to pick at her nails.
For the tall, brooding man with the fitted three-piece suit, and raven eyes that could chill bones, had swept into Quantico unannounced, with orders from the top tier of the government. His demanding presence had grated her nerves, and the two-hour reprimand had left her shaking in her seat. She had done her best to bite her tongue and keep herself in check, though her shoulders were now knotted with tension and that nagging migraine, which had yet to be eased from a double dose of Aspirin, proved that it had been an exhausting feat.
Slumped in her chair, she flipped through the stack of files once more; silently cursing the agents residing a few floors below her office, only to be jarred out of her petulant thoughts from the flashing red light. Harshly slamming her manicured tipped nail on the speaker button, she then tightly squeezed the bridge of her nose – hoping to quell the exhaustion from her eyes.
"Yes?" came her clipped, apathetic response.
"They've…j-just arrived," her secretary stuttered out; obviously still shaken by her boss' earlier outburst. "Ma'am."
Having already lost her patience and pleasantries that morning, she hastily ended the call, and then took her time buttoning up her navy-blue blazer. Running her hands down the linen fabric, smoothing out any wrinkles, as she furtively glanced at the locked drawer near the bottom of her desk.
Swallowing, feeling that gnawing impulse to reach inside, and take a calming sip from those little glass bottles – filled with liquor and mounting guilt – which she kept safely hidden away.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, she caught sight of the mahogany mantel clock, and stormed her way towards the elevators. The clicking of heels on linoleum, ricocheted down the empty halls like sharp bullets – fueling her nervous energy, as she braced herself for the inevitable confrontation.
It was no secret that the Section Chief and the members of the BAU have notoriously not gotten along, but this time – oh, this time, the gavel of repercussions, was going to leave an inferno of destruction in its wake.
And though, Erin Strauss enjoyed sipping on a Boulevardier cocktail while drama unfolded around her – having always received a high from watching people squirm beneath her stern, frigid gaze – she, however, had no desire to address this damaging situation.
Penelope Garcia, was a technical analyst – the cream of the crop, if anyone were to ask – so she usually stayed locked away in her lair, and rarely ever traveled with her teammates. Though, she was pretty certain that the suffocating silence, which had infused the long hours on the jet, the stuffy trip in the SUV's, and even this short elevator ride – was an anomaly of sorts.
However, if she were being honest with herself, then she had to admit that the last few months had revealed that there was a crack in their unity. The team was fractured from a seeping open wound that hadn't fully healed; throbbing with an infection, poisoning the bloodstream, and though nobody had mentioned it – it was affecting their work and worse, ruining their relationships – one bitter argument at a time.
Though, she was absolutely not fond of change, and wanting to remain in her blissful world of ignorance for a while longer, she had kept her discerning observation to herself. Bouncing from neon stiletto-to-stiletto, looking around the cramped, fluorescent space – she had to take a few, calming breaths to will the hot tears from slipping down her cheeks.
Feeling her throat tighten, she was grateful when the bell finally chimed, signaling their overdue arrival. Trying to adjust her purse, she teetered precariously, only to grip her laptop bag and roll her heavy, fuchsia suitcase towards the glass doors. Ignoring the sharp pang in her chest, as Morgan ignored her by briskly walking to his desk and plopping down in a heap of anger.
This case had been torture – wearing everyone's nerves down to jagged points; leaving the team battered and bruised.
She jolted and squeaked, when both Rossi and Hotch's doors slammed shut – those two had gotten into a heated debate on the way back, that hadn't quite simmered down yet – causing her to bump into Emily; who huffed in irritation, before heading towards the break room to pour herself some putrid caffeinated muck.
Considering the taller woman had just survived a bullet graze to the side of her skull, Garcia's compassionate nature, let it slide; not having energy for such trivial things.
Taking a few steps towards JJ, only to receive a meek smile in response – wondering who she was calling, as she quickly turned around, whispering into her phone.
The coiling knot of dread, fluttered once more – twisting her insides; feeling helpless, since she could only stand by and watch her family crumble around her.
Noticing a presence next to her, she gave her Boy Wonder a thorough once over – trying to find any presence of pain in his posture or facial expressions. "How's the arm?" she croaked out; embarrassed, she tried to clear her throat.
Reid held up the white cast around his wrist and slowly moved it around – thankfully it was only a fracture, but he wasn't taking anything stronger than Tylenol; which had her sore heart concerned for him.
"Spencer?" she mumbled, stepping closer.
"Fine," giving her a curt nod.
She had expected a statistical rant about the anatomical structure of bone density and the first medical use of a cast – only to be shocked when he gave his simple response and walked away; leaving her standing all alone in the sterile hallway.
Looking up, she caught Morgan's narrowed gaze; feeling overwhelmed she glared right back – not in the mood to deal with his Adonis attitude.
Shifting her luggage around; Penelope was about to head to her lair, where she could shut out the world until she found the strength to go home, only for the elevator to ping once more. Turning around, she bit back a groan when Strauss walked towards her, looking frazzled and pissed off.
Oh, frick!
"Chief Strauss," she chirped, hoping her voice sounded more enthusiastic – though, highly doubtful.
"Gather the team," came the gruff demand.
Penelope fought rolling her eyes, and though exhausted, she had to stifle a giggle when she wondered if the BAU Chief would melt if she were to get splashed with water.
"Yes, Ma'am," she headed towards the bullpen, stopping briefly. "May I ask what this is about?"
"We're having a meeting," the older woman's brows were furrowed, clearly not here on friendly terms.
Penelope nodded, tottering away, only to stop in her tracks.
"It's a mandatory trip. For everyone."
Looking out the tinted window of the black Sedan; raven eyes scanning his surroundings – consciously aware of everything.
"Did it work?" the guttural voice from the driver's seat sputtered, irritated by the smoke of the man's cigar.
"Would I be here, if it didn't?"
"When do they arrive?" turning the car back on, cracking the windows – grateful for the fresh air.
"Two days," the younger man turned, blowing hot air into his companion's face. "This time..." eyes narrowing into angry slits. "Don't fuck it up."
To be continued…