A/N So I take forever to update anything apparently. I still kind of like this story, but it needs major editing. I am planning on going through every chapter and editing them. Hopefully after that I will update, but it may take awhile.
I do not own Criminal Minds, or any of the characters in the T.V series. I do own Jesse, James, and the plot line though. If you have any questions about the characters, just send me a message, and I will respond as soon as I can.
I opened my eyes, and for a split second I forgot; forgot everything that happened in the last few years, and forgot that I was blind. I enjoyed the temporary bliss, it didn't come often. I got out of bed, and counted the steps to the door. My dog, Daemon, followed me and I knew he could tell that today I still couldn't see. It had been months since the last time I could see anything besides lights; even those lights were small areas of actual light: really bright, and gave me a headache. Daemon was a Dalmatian and a Great Dane mixed, and was fiercely overprotective.
I was shot in the head about seven years ago now. There are still bullet fragments in my brain, and most of them are pushing on my occipital lobe. Some days, I can see. But lately, most days I can't. Daemon is my Seeing Eye dog. My husband gave him to me a few months before he was killed in the same shootout that took my eyesight. Our daughter died that day too. I had Daemon trained so I wouldn't have to get another dog. He reminds me of my husband every day, but in a sweet way.
Lately, my doctors have been giving me medicine to try to ease the pressure on my eyes. It was working for a while, but now it causes pain more often then it works. Today was one of those days. I whistled, "Daemon ye lazy mutt, get yer arse up." Don't worry about the odd words here and there, I'm Scottish. Sometimes, my language switches between American English, and Scottish English. It mostly happens when I'm tired, or flustered. I have dual citizenship between Scotland and the U.S. I've lived in the U.S, mostly, for the last eight years though. A couple months out of the year, I go visit Scotland.
I heard my phone buzz on the counter top, "James calling." Yes, my phone just talked. I have a program on my phone that will read the caller I.D to me. It's really annoying when I can see, but when I can't it helps. I answered my phone, and immediately James started talking, "Jesse, can you see today?"
"No. I have a migraine though so be quiet. Why don't you just come over? Leave the lights off when you get here. I can see a little light today, and it's not helping."
"Um, well, ok. I have some, um…important information to tell you." He sounded nervous, like something was wrong, "I suppose it would be better to tell you in person. I'll make you breakfast too." Oh great, he was trying to butter me up.
My migraine got even worse. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I'll be over in a minute. Is your door open?" I said yes, and hung up. We lived in an apartment building in Washington D.C. He lived a few doors down from me so I could still have my privacy, but so he could help me on the days I couldn't see. We worked together, so that made everything easier.
By the time he opened my door, it felt like my head was going to split open, and my eyes were going to explode. "James, get me some pain meds. The migraine's worse." He grunted, and walked over to my medicine cabinet. He shuffled his feet while I took the pills, "Quit stalling. What did you want to tell me?"
"Well, I've got good news and some bad news, what do you want to hear first?"
"You're so American. I thought you were Scottish. Anyways, give me the bad." I was stalling too; I had an idea of what he was trying to say.
"Ok, do not hurt me. I am only the messenger." I nodded, this was not going to be good, "it has been seven years since the shooting. The getaway driver is up for parole this year, and an FBI agent testified for him at his parole." He knew I still consult for the FBI, I used to work at Quantico, and consulted on cases for the BAU.
I heard buzzing in my ears, if this migraine didn't get any better I'd have to go to the hospital to get my eyes checked. "Who?" I still kept up to date on my past cases, and even had consulted on a few in recent years. If the agent worked on those cases, I would recognize his name.
"Oh fuck." I started to pass out as Daemon started barking like crazy. He was supposed to bark when I was going to pass out, I forgot to tell him he was working this morning. I forgot to make sure he was really awake.
James didn't notice the difference as I sat down, "A BAU agent named Derek Morgan." I passed out, and he finally realized something was wrong. The moron.