Disclaimer: No, they're not mine. If they were, I probably wouldn't be writing this.
Now we've finished that, a little explanation…
This is not so much as fic as contemplation on the team… It's been a while since I last saw an episode, I have only read lots of fanfics so I might be a little off-key here.
I'm trying it out, because this seriously is the first fanfic I've written that was other than Harry Potter, so please be kind to me .
It was a silent night. Everybody was exhausted from the case they had just closed, having been unable to prevent the unsub for killing some more teenagers before he was finally caught. Now, Morgan, Reid and she were sitting in the bullpen, while Hotch, JJ and Rossi were in their respective offices.
Cases with children or teenagers were different, she contemplated. They sometimes hit close to home, and she had seen that this time it had become a personal case for JJ. She had sensed it in her eyes: weary, dark, reminiscing herself as a teenager.
She knew they all had their secrets. Everybody had secrets, and being in a team with profilers didn't change the fact that they had a life of their own. Or had had a life of their own, somewhere in the past, because lately the cases were piling up faster than they could handle.
She sighed and dropped her head. It was no use, thinking about the days yet to come; they hadn't arrived yet. Instead, she let her mind wander off again, thinking what could possibly have happened to JJ that made her connect to the victims.
There wasn't much she knew about her: she suspected, yes, but those were nothing else than suspicions, there was nothing to confirm anything.
She did know how she felt about JJ, similar to the rest of the team: she was innocent, she didn't show much emotion, though they all knew it was there. The innocence in her made them all want to protect her, even if it was perfectly clear JJ could handle herself.
She chuckled at the memory of Morgan, most protective of them all. It was sweet, really, to see how much he cared.
She frowned when she thought back to that one case, that one case that told them things about Morgan they'd never even suspected. At least, she hadn't.
There was a pact between profilers not to profile each other, but she couldn't help but see things. The only thing she could do was try to forget those until they were needed, and not connect the dots. It had worked quite well, but she was still surprised she hadn't seen anything that pointed to Morgan having been molested. It was all so clear to her now, why he did some of the things he did. And she felt sorry for him in the truest meaning of the word.
She knew what it was like, being forced into things. She knew what it was like to try and push away painful memories; she thought everyone on their team did. It was natural thing for them, and a necessary one, too. They could not let their personal problems get in the way of a potential murder: they were there to solve the murder.
It was only natural that things got to them. In this job, they saw the worst of people, the worst of humanity.
That is why she felt so much respect for each and every one of her teammates: they got through it. They were strong, even though at times they may feel like they are not. Many people with insight eventually turned crazy, burned out or something similar, and while they'd all had their moments, they were still on the team, still helping people.
She was worried about Reid, though. She knew he had a drug problem ever since the case with Hankel. Being the person he was, she knew he was trying to get over it, but what happened those days still scarred him.
For some reason, it'd been easy for her to read him – though she tried not to. She just couldn't help but wonder at his brilliance, the way he acted, essentially, the way he was. She felt a similar protective urge she had with JJ: he was young and he didn't have the innocence over him that JJ had, more like a … naivety, a cuteness. She guessed it was because he was so socially inept, which was actually quite funny to watch: the man knew pretty much everything there was to know, yet around people he behaved like an awkward teenager, afraid to say something wrong.
She felt that he was hiding behind his knowledge. Whenever he ranted off one of his stories, the focus didn't lie on him but on the story he was telling, and only with strangers they were surprised. It was fine by her, she was interested in what he had to tell, well most of the time anyway. Sometimes she just wished he'd shut up, but she knew it was partly his way of coping with things, of trying to fill in the silence, and she knew she had to give him that much freedom.