Hey all! This is my first Criminal Minds fan-fic, as well as the first in a series of readerxcharacter stories that will transcend through fandoms and genres. If you have any requests or suggestions for stories, please feel free to let me know!
There were gunshots everywhere. They seemed to echo deep in the back of my mind, one beginning again just as the last was dying down to a ringing in my ears. I hadn't been ready for this. I was never ready for this sort of thing. I was a potential grad student for God's sake. And now, I was in too deep.
-One week earlier—
"Thank you for taking the time to see me sir."
"Of course. What exactly is your interest in the BAU?"
I stood in a large office, shuffling from one uncomfortably heeled foot to the other. My skirt seemed suddenly much too short, and I fought the urge to pull it down like a child playing dress-up. I needed to remain calm and professional. After all, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity.
I had been accepted to George Washington University in Washington DC to continue my education. A double major under my belt of psychology and criminal justice with a minor in music was enough, for now, but I wouldn't get anywhere unless I continued to grad school. I watched nervously as the man in the black suit-jacket before me leafed through my papers. Newspaper clippings and hand-written notes littered between 20 page dissertations. All just the beginnings of my thesis.
He looked up at me, his eyes meeting mine expectantly. I blushed, realizing he had asked me a question and I had just stood there like a nervous child. "Oh, r-right. Well, I'm beginning a thesis on the long-term effects of working in law enforcement on a person socially, physically, and mentally. I was…well, this is one of the most notorious and highly sought-after jobs for newly graduated young people. You have a rather high turnover rate."
A flicker of a smile briefly grazed his lips, and I felt my heart lurch. Had I spoken out of line? "N-no offense meant of course…" I mumbled, quickly averting my gaze to the papers in his hand.
"You've done your research." His tone suggested his statement was a compliment, although any trace of the ghost of a smile from earlier had vanished as quickly as it had come. "But you must understand that we're very busy. I can't have anyone on my team distracted."
My hands immediately raised themselves in apologetic defense. "Yes! Yes, I understand that completely. This would be completely secondary to their work, I can guarantee that. It would just be a series of interviews conducted in-home or in the office…wherever the subject is most comfortable. I would love to stay in office to see your process as well, but I understand that may not be doable." I began to fiddle nervously with the ring on my right hand. "I just think it's important to know what people are getting themselves into. You know, a worst case scenario in this line of work."
The team watched, intrigued from the moment the young lady had stepped into Hotch's office. "She's young. Probably around your age Reid," Emily commented.
"Ah, maybe a little younger," Reid corrected. "She dropped some papers on her way in and I helped her pick them up. It looks like the workings of a final thesis for grad school."
"Notice anything else interesting about her Einstein?" Morgan pointed to his left ring-finger and grinned. "Single, as far as we can tell."
Emily laughed. "Please, you're gonna get with a college girl? Are you that desperate?"
"Desperate my ass. She was a cutie." Morgan's eyes drifted back to the window of their boss's office, as if to emphasize his point. "You think Hotch is givin' her the moves right now?"
Emily snorted, swatting Morgan on the arm. "Gross. Knock it off."
"What? You don't think Hotch needs a PYT in his life?"
Derek Morgan was met with blank stares. "You're kidding me. Reid, back me up here."
Reid frowned. "PYT, possibly referring to the Michael Jackson song and abbreviation meaning 'Pretty Young Thing'."
Prentiss rolled her eyes. "Oh god."
"That's a classic, man, come on."
I stepped out of the office, following the man into the glaring florescent lights of the open floor. People went between desks, shuffling papers and making phone calls. I felt three pairs of eyes on me as I descended the stairs. "Miss Robinson," he gestured to the three seated at the table. "Meet one half of my team. SSA Emily Prentiss, SSA Derek Morgan, and Doctor Spencer Reid."
"Aaaand the ever-fabulous Penelope Garcia!" Another presence entered, followed by an older man. The blonde, bespectacled woman motioned to her escort in a perky manner. "And David Rossi, of course."
I couldn't help myself. I could physically feel my eyes widen, filled, I'm sure, with absolute adoration. "Oh- oh my god. Mister Rossi, I've read all…all of your books. You're the reason I'm starting this thesis."
Rossi smiled gently and shook my hand. "Always a pleasure to meet a fan. Especially one with an inquisitive mind. What exactly inspired this 'thesis'?"
I briefly explained the purpose of my paper, just as I had done for Hotchner earlier. I gauged the interest of each agent, trying to pick who would be my best bet as a subject. What reflected back to me was disheartening. They had seen it all, been there, done that. They weren't about to open up to some stranger, a college student, a nobody.
"There's only one thing," I turned my gaze back to Rossi as I finished, and he returned my gaze, his interest piqued. "You believe in true, absolute evil, don't you Mr. Rossi?"
He answered only with a slow nod, and I continued. "I believe that sort of outlook is a product of a job like this. And I believe it's contagious."
"And that's a problem?" I could tell Rossi was goading me, playing devil's advocate if you will. The weight of six pairs of eyes on me suddenly felt increased. I could feel my face beginning to burn.
"I…I believe so yes. But that's what my research is going to prove, one way or another."
"So you don't believe in true evil, then?" This time I couldn't return Rossi's gaze. But I could answer his question.
"No, I don't. I believe everyone has good in them. But the wrong circumstances can make it hard to find."
Rossi smiled, surprising me a bit. "I give you my blessing on your quest for knowledge. I sincerely hope you can prove me wrong." He patted me on the shoulder before leaving for what I assumed was his own office. I could still feel where he had patted me on the shoulder. This, I thought, was what crazed fans meant when they said things like "I'll never wash this hand again." The $7 blazer I had bought at a flea market was now a treasure, touched by the great David Rossi.
"This is Kate Robinson. She'll be interviewing some of you when you're available for the next week." As if nothing had just transpired, Hotchner formally introduced me to the team. "Anyone who would like to volunteer to go first can begin-"
He was interrupted by a thin, blonde woman approaching the team with a sense of urgency. "I'm calling a meeting. Wrap up whatever you need to wrap up and let's get moving." She only offered me a sideways glance before she turned on her heel to leave again. After her brief announcement, everyone began to move to leave.
"Sorry baby girl, duty calls," Morgan winked before following the others, leaving only myself and Agent Hotchner.
He sighed, and I suddenly realized what a burden I was in this office. "I'm so sorry, I'll go now. I can come back another time and-"
"Here." A piece of paper was suddenly being handed to me, and I took it. "I should be home around 8:30 tonight, provided things don't get complicated here. I can be your first interview for the sake of time."
"Oh…" I looked down at the paper. An address and a phone number scrawled down in blue pen stared back up at me. I looked up to find Agent Hotchner's eyes on me. "Th-thank you."
He nodded, then left to join the others, leaving me to find my own way out of the building.
8:45 pm, and I ran from the bus stop toward the apartment building. Stupidly, I had fallen asleep once I got home. He said around 8:30. He gave me some leeway. Probably because he knows I'm still just a student… I felt a smile growing on my face, but I bit it back. Agent Hotchner may look scary but…it could be he's actually really nice.
I was buzzed in through the intercom system up front, and climbed two flights of stairs to his apartment. I knocked timidly at first, then with a little more vigor after no answer.
"It's open," a deep voice resonated from behind the closed door. I tentatively opened the door. The scene inside was what I expected. Sparely decorated, yet tasteful. Liveable, but not exactly lived-in yet. This apartment still felt new. Agent Hotchner was seated on a leather sofa, a drink in his hand. Two matching leather arm chairs sat across from a glass coffee-table, and I hesitantly took a seat in one of them. Without speaking, or even looking at him, I began to unpack my supplies. Tape recorder, pad of paper, pen, notecards littered with my almost unreadable handwriting. When I finally had everything in place, I looked up, my hands shaking and my breath uneven.
He was smiling again.
It was the tail end of a smile, just like the one I had seen before, and it seemed to give my heart a jump-start. "Would you like a drink?"
"I really shouldn't…" I clasped my hands in my lap, trying to hide how nervous I was. "It's my first interview with a real FBI agent." I couldn't look up at him again, but I was almost positive he was smiling again.
"It's fine. I've got some amaretto left over. You can take it with you if you like." He stood, and I watched him walk further into the room where a liquor cabinet stood. I knew better than to let a man make me a drink without seeing what was in it, so I watched closely as he poured. Liquor, ice…ok, he was coming back. So he wasn't going to drug me. That at least was a good sign.
He set down a glass of amber-colored liquid on the table in front of me before sitting back down. "Um, Agent Hotchner-"
"Hotch is fine."
I could only nod. I pressed the red button on my tape recorder, ready to start. "Hotch, how did you find yourself drawn to the BAU?"
A second drink sat on the table for each of us, now tepid and watery. I was sure I had at least two hours of tape already. I had started some notes, but within the first half hour I was just engaged. Realizing how late it was, Hotch had excused himself briefly to put his suit jacket away. While he was gone I stood to stretch my legs. A framed photograph caught my eye, and I wandered toward the mantle to take a closer look.
Hearing Hotch return, I turned to face him. "Your son?" I motioned to the photo.
Hotch sat, suddenly looking very tired. "Yes. His name's Jack. He'll be five in October." He motioned to the empty apartment, sans the two of us. "He's staying with his aunt right now."
He knew what I wanted to ask next, but I bit my tongue. There were no pictures of any woman who could have been the mother, or wife. I merely sat back down the turned the tape recorder off. "We can stop for now. It's late, I don't want to bother you any more than I already have."
Hotch's eyes met mine, and I felt frozen to my seat. "Don't you want to know what happened?"
I shook my head slowly, never losing eye-contact. "No. That's not my place to ask."
Hotch nodded, finally breaking his spell-binding, intimidating gaze. As he looked away, I felt a slight pang in my chest. He was hurting, I could tell. It didn't take a psychology major to know when someone has lost something dear to them. Instinctively I reached out and placed my hand on top of his. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up anything you weren't ready to talk about."
"She died." My hand squeezed his just as his words compressed on my heart. I couldn't tear my eyes off of him. I opened my mouth to tell him you don't have to, but he continued. "It was my fault. A serial killer was loose, and I could have made a deal to stop the killings. I didn't. I was stubborn. I was focused on my work and it cost me my family."
I couldn't say anything at first. I could only continue to stare at him, my hand still tightly holding his. This was the most emotion I had ever seen from this man. Although his face remained the same, distant and cold, his voice gave it all away. He began to pull his hand away, and I grasped his with both of mine, startling him.
"It wasn't your fault."
His eyes met mine again, and a hot flash of an unfamiliar feeling suddenly ripped through me. I could feel my face burning, but I couldn't shut my mouth. "It wasn't your fault. The man…the person who took your wife from you made a choice. He had lost the good in himself, and instead of trying to find it, he took good away from others." I tightened my grip on his hand, my gaze steady but my voice wavering. "You did the right thing. I know it."
Hotch abruptly pulled his hand out from mine and stood, walking back toward the liquor cabinet. "Ex." He mumbled.
"Huh?"
"She was my ex wife at the time."
"Oh…" I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do with that information. "I…I'm sorry. That was out of line."
Hotch said nothing. He only poured himself a fresh drink, forgetting completely about his discarded glass from hours before. I felt a blush spread over my cheeks. Oh god, I must have looked so foolish. Here I was, some kid he hardly knew giving him lectures on morality and blame. I began to hastily gather my things from the table, putting the tape recorder back in my bag and frantically trying to gather up my hand-written notes. "A-anyway, thank you so much for your time. I really appreciate any- Ah!" I involuntarily made a soft noise of surprise as Hotch sat down next to me. He was close. He was close! I could actually feel how close he was, the fabric of his pant-leg just barely touching my skirt draped over my thighs. "I…" I didn't know what to ask, so I just looked at him.
"Did you want to try some? It's whisky." I felt my brow furrow at his question. I had been ready to be out of his hair, at least until I could go back to the BAU for my next interview, but it seemed he had other plans.
"Oh…okay." I felt my fingers begin to knead and twist at the hem of my skirt. I suddenly felt very exposed.
"Here." Hotch took a sip of his drink. Before I realized what was happening, his lips were on mine. Surprised, my mouth opened and the cool liquid poured in. His tongue tentatively explored my mouth, and I felt that hot flash rip through my body again. What was this? Was I dreaming? Had I fallen asleep on the couch and I didn't know it?
He pulled away and looked me up and down. I could feel the heat spreading quickly from my cheeks to my ears and through my body. Oh my god. What am I doing? What- I stood up, my papers dropping and fanning out on the floor. "I…I should really be going!" I broke into a full run for the door, racing through the hallway and down the stairs, out into the brisk night air. I stopped, leaning against the wall of his apartment building to catch my breath and try to steady myself again. My face was still burning, my heart thumping wildly in my chest. Tentatively, I brought a hand to my lips. "It's…hot…" I whispered, unsure if I meant the strong alcohol I had just drunk, or something entirely different.
Hotch was alone now, looking into the unlit fireplace. His lips were still warm from earlier. Even where she had just been sitting seemed to radiate her warm aura.
You did the right thing. I know it.
He would have easily dismissed it as a half-hearted attempt at consolation, but he knew better. Her gaze had been so intense, so sincere. It was as if she had looked right through him, into the depths of his mind. Even possibly his soul. He ran a hand through his thick, dark hair and sighed. He knew it had been foolish. His eyes fell upon the papers littering the floor of his apartment. He would gather them up tomorrow and return them to her, of course.
It wasn't your fault.
How could she know that? She didn't know anything about him. She couldn't… He scooped up one of the papers that had found its way onto the table in her hurry to leave and glanced over what she had written. As he came to the last line written on the page, he felt his heart lurch suddenly. Without another word, he set the paper back down where it was and left the room.
Agent Aaron Hotchner, while keeping himself aloof from those around him-
Quietly, he undressed, his mind repeating the phrase he had just read over and over again. The image of her earnest gaze and the feel of her lips against his mixing themselves in with his churning thoughts.
-I believe, is above all else, a good and honest man.
