Hello guys! Guess who's not dead? That'd be me lol okay, here's the first chapter of the second part of the "Sky's Still Blue Series", therefore it's a follow up to Dark Matter. I'd never force you into reading it before you go for this one, but that sure as hell would make things easier ahaha
I do hope you enjoy it and welcome to this new - sweeter - work and to season 4 as well (my fave 3) ;)
Thanks fo Fran for existing (AND FOR THIS AMAZING COVER) and to Lisa for saving me with the beta reading!
Disclaimer: The characters are intellectual property of CBS, therefore, this is a fan work without financial gain and with the only purpose of entertainment.
"MAYHEM"
Down in the waiting room, she rarely understood how her legs were still working, how she managed to stand there with hands tucked inside that FBI coat and mind almost drifting away. Her fingers toyed with the fabric, desperate to avoid every image, every sensation she had experienced throughout that day.
It all started with a thousand different shades of fire coloring the dark skyline, fog leaving the damage as it fumed away. Then she was gone – she was gone because their tech analyst lost their connection before she could ask about him. Professional, cold, distant, compartmentalization. Not a thing worked, not a thing could possibly fill that void within her. Fear, above all others, was what sustained her while they had not a clue of where he was.
Dave saw it, watched closely when the brunette practically jumped from her seat right across him in the very instant the media liaison announced he was alive and well – and waiting for them, matter-of-factly. Except this time, they were accompanied.
Their resident genius read through her, from the inconstant tremble gracing her hands even though she had safely hid them, shielded herself, to those vacant doe eyes flaring all her concern from the cellars. He was confused at first, interested right after, but, in the end, realization downed on him like a tidal wave. Of course, not fully – he'd never see the full picture – for his mind protected himself in the walls of a close relationship between the two of them, not an amorous one.
Although not a word would ever be said about the concerning matter, Emily Prentiss relished the comfort that she somehow could be herself, not a single worn out mask, to Spencer Reid.
Besides, that precise moment when they stood right outside his hotel's door, questioning briefly whether they should break into or demand access to the reception, it saved them a whole lot of explanation when their co-worker instinctively reached for a spare keycard.
Put aside those countless minutes that she was completely immersed in the task of gathering him some clean work clothes, her profound knowledge of where everything rested giving away so much more than she was even aware. And her goateed friend knew that, absorbed the information therefore he'd be able to help her with that specific point of keeping things in disguise.
"You okay?" her question cut through him, his reply even more sincere as he met dark concerned orbs.
He wanted to know why he remained alive, why he wasn't the one lying down on that cold hospital bed hanging by a thread. When his hand reached Kate's limp one, bent outside that devastating blue blanket, his first thought was of her. It could have been her, images ghosting his every rationality while she paced downstairs with her own demons scattered everywhere.
Perhaps, it had been those flames experienced, his damaged ability to listen, how she had felt a sharp rush of another feeling while that explosion tape played over and over again. They were not sure, not even capable to distinguish whether it was out on an impulse or that was what they had been craving all along, but as he made his way to her with sunken eyes, neither could suppress his lips to meet hers in a vague attempt to put it all together.
His rough palms set free her hair, got rid of that damn ponytail failing his plans to feel those silky dark locks. For a moment, brief yet unique, both forgot this was public, that Dave waited patiently with half smile, that nurses and doctors and the whole world scanned that scene with bewildered expressions.
It was all about them, all about his tongue delving into her mouth, her deft hands clasping his light shirt clad upper arms for balance, their bodies dissolving into one another. And they broke apart with tears sprinkling her lids whilst his firm forearms enveloped her slim waist to press kisses over her collarbone.
They could pretend this was routine, they could pretend this would go on as their jobs came back at them. Albeit Hotch tried to ignore her scent so close to his nostrils, he had already memorized that very faded perfume that would color his sheets during the loneliest of the nights. Emily couldn't tell the same, couldn't for that dead burnt smell from the soot resided on the crook of his neck as a tiny reminder that life was short, that she should make the most of it before it was too fucking late.
Her nervous laughter turned into an excruciating pain, almost caused her to shed that risky tear that would divide whatever they were before from what they would become from this day forward. It couldn't be her to do it, no, she had been the one to give, always give without ever asking for something in return.
"We should go" she whispered amidst an audible swallow, patting his back in order to bring him back from those safe walls they unconsciously built around them.
There was a first time for everything - this night had been all about it if she had to be honest with herself. In that exact moment the father of one conceded to Rossi driving them back with not a single complaint, both gazes landed on him with a worried tinge. He climbed into the backseat, allowed his younger subordinate to entwine her fingers with his while his sight transfixed to the outsides as street after street guided them back to the hotel.
Glancing at the rear mirror, she connected her eyes with their goateed friend's. His message was clear, those variant lights reflected that he'd cover up for them, that he needed her tonight more than any rule pointing right or wrong. Prentiss nodded, accepted this mission with one soothing arm around him and emotion driven hope surfacing everywhere.
Warm water ran down his bare body, some bruises eliciting a strangled hiss while he tried to fight that feeling of defeat. He blamed himself - for Haley and Jack going away, for almost letting Emily leave, for not saving Kate. Maybe it had been a curse, one of those chanted prophecies that said he'd never be able to save those that ever came closer to him. It was an overreaction, he was aware. But he couldn't miss the odds to these unsuccessful arrangements.
Part of him wanted to believe that evil happened in order to make him hold on to the good that surrounded him every day. Still, he rarely denied how much he wanted things to just be calm and even for a while longer. Now, Aaron Hotchner was a divorced father whose job was all he had except a certain raven-haired woman he shouldn't have in the first place.
He hated this, this screwed up life - he loved this as well, loved her body draping his in her sleep and how she'd stay with him through hell.
"Don't think" another whisper, low and quiet while she pressed her mouth to the nape of his neck, feminine arms wrapping around his hips from behind "We can think tomorrow"
A split second was enough to make him relax into that familiar warmness, her naked body pressed to his back, taut nipples brushing against his sore muscles, water cascading their close images while her face buried in damp black hair before resting on his broad shoulder. Lids hooded the weariness in her irises, relied on those precious sober minutes they stood together.
"I never asked" his voice was reticent, large hands covering small ones while he faced the not illuminated wall "What's your favorite song?"
It was a stupid question, of course, almost meaningless after what they had survived through that day. Nonetheless, from somewhere within, there was a need written all over it, deep in the matter of those words that bore recollections she never considered he'd ever bring back.
Maybe those were the tears that never rolled down his cheeks. Maybe wars were not fought reasonless throughout the months they've been doing this.
Her lips curled slightly, accompanied by his even though they never perceived it "And I don't want the world to see me, 'cause I don't think that they'd understand, when everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am"
Please, if you can, take a minute to tell me what you think about this piece! I totally wanna know :D