Disclaimer: Y'all know the drill… I own nothing…
A/N: So this came to me listening to Five Finger Death Punch's Remember Everything. In my mind I had the events with Tobias Hankel, Ian Doyle and a few other random cases influencing this piece. I also had flashes of Kate Beckett (after being shot) and Olivia Benson (after William Lewis) when writing as well. Apologies for the shortness. Any and all mistakes are mine!
Damaged
"How come none of this gets to you?"
"What do you mean?"
"You came off a desk job. Now suddenly, you're in the field surround by mutilated bodies and you don't even flinch."
"She's right. You've never blinked."
"Maybe I compartmentalize better than most people."
She always strives to be the stronger one, the one who compartmentalizes, the one who doesn't allow anything to get to her. She was the badass, the first to run into a situation, if only to save others from getting hurt. She was the one who never gave up, even on the cases that had to be put aside for more pressing ones.
But in the darkness of the night, when she's all alone, it is she who falls apart. Sometimes it starts slowly, a niggling thought here and there but sometimes, especially after a hard case, everything comes crashing down.
That's the problem with having a mind like a steel trap. Nothing can be forgotten. She's not as good as Reid, but she's never forgotten the life lessons she's learnt. It's what made her so good at undercover work. It's what made her so good at lying. Her face and body do nothing to betray what's really going on inside her mind.
They scare her sometimes, her thoughts. But she'd dare not express them out loud. She'd dare not let anyone know what her mind was really like. She'd seen where they send people with minds like hers.
At work she is a rock, being the stable one as the others, even stoic Hotch, lose their cool, either in public or behind closed doors. She takes on their anger, their grief, their frustration at being stumped by the case, at being led astray by false clues and over-eager LEOs.
At home, she allows herself to crumble. She allows herself to feel, to let the effects of the case run over her body. It leaves her huddled in a corner, the loss of control crippling her. Sometimes it passes quickly, leaving her shaky and paranoid, flinching at every shadow. Sometimes it lasts all night and she doesn't sleep. Those nights she sits in a chair in the middle of the room, gun resting on her thighs, fingers deadly still despite the full body panic she's in.
She's always left numb afterwards, feeling like she's not good enough to keep going. There's been many times she's just wanted to run, but even running doesn't stop the past from catching up. The same past that hurt her friends, that left her branded and an outcast from her makeshift family.
And now she has to pretend she's fine, even when it's her fault they got hurt. She can't let on how broken she is inside, how much her shell is cracked. She's almost surprised they haven't figured things out yet. She can see it when she looks in the mirror every morning. The haunted eyes of someone else staring back at her.
She uses the mirror to build back up her walls, stuffing everything back in their little boxes. Her body hardens, hiding all trace of any breakdown, of anything that is wrong. Her mind becomes a steel trap once again. Her shoulders ready to bear the brunt of her co-workers' pain.
And she can take it. For now, she can handle it.
Oh, dear brother, just don't hate me
For never standing by you or being by your side
Dear sister, please don't blame me
I only did what I thought was truly right
Thanks for reading!
Monkeywand