Hey guys! First of all, thank you to everyone who read the first little teaser to this story. To all of you who reviewed or put this story (or me) on alert, you're awesome. I'm not sure how long this story will be, but I do have a lot of ideas for it. My plan is to update every Monday. Keep an eye out for more frequent updates though, cause I'll post more if I have a chance to write. I usually work 60 hour work weeks, so if I miss the Monday post bear with me. This is going to be a pretty dark story, but I promise there will be some humor and fun thrown in along the way. Chapters will also most likely get longer as the story progresses.
I don't own anything except my own twisted imagination. And I don't have a beta, so all mistakes are my own and I apologize in advance.
It had been a long couple days for the criminal profilers of the FBI's behavioral analysis unit. They had just returned home from a horrific case in Detroit, and it went unspoken that the 6 profilers wanted nothing more than to go and deal with the case in their own separate ways. It was uncanny how each of them knew what would happen when they landed from a hard case. Sometimes they went out as a group to try and forget what they had seen. Sometimes a few of them would go have a couple drinks together before retreating to their homes. And sometimes they all just wanted to be alone and away from anything attached to the case, even if that meant shutting each other out for a night. It was the rarest of options, but it did happen from time to time.
The four men and two women all silently walked through the doors of the BAU, their go-bags slung over their shoulders and their heads hung in defeat. Cases with kids were the worst. Watching the unsub take the life of a child in front of them before they had a chance to react was gut-wrenching. Realizing too late that the child's bitter biological father was the unsub, the team had walked in on the man holding his child, his ex-wife, and his exes new husband hostage. There was nothing they could do as the man had held them at bay with his weapon, his child in his arms as a human shield from the agent's line of fire. They were too slow to find some way to surprise the man before he had shot his child, and then himself, leaving behind a devastated mother and step-father. These were the cases that made them rethink why they did this job. With all the good that the BAU did on a daily basis, it was something as devastating as this case to make them wonder if it would ever be enough.
"Everyone go home. We can deal with reports in the morning." Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner broke the silence that had befallen his team since they had gotten on the jet from Detroit. "Don't come in before 10. Everyone try to unwind and get some sleep. I'll need you back here and as mentally ready as you can be in the morning."
Mumbled agreements were heard all around as everyone grabbed what they needed from the office and headed right back out the door. Only acknowledging each other with a glance and a nod, everyone went their separate ways.
Derek Morgan would go home and change to go out and find some nameless woman to go home with. He would slip out under the cover of night to retreat back to his own home, his own bed, and hope that the nightmares would not haunt him.
David Rossi would go to an upscale bar where he usually went after a particularly hard case. He could enjoy the finest liquor without anyone bothering him. No bartenders asking questions, no one wondering why he still had a gun on his hip and a darkness in his eyes.
Aaron Hotchner would go home to his son, Jack. He would sit with him and read him a story, hold him close, and try to forget how someone could take the life of their own child. He would bask in Jack's innocence, remembering that through the horrors in the world, these were things that they fought for. Even when they lost, the cases they won were worth it.
Spencer Reid would go home and write his mother a letter. He would then take the files from the case out of his bag and stare at them until he figured out where they went wrong, where they should have realized what was happening. Then he would finish his report. When he was content that he could put the case to rest, he would curl up on the couch with his childhood blanket and read a book that he and his mother would read together as a child, effectively shutting out the case.
Jennifer Jareau would go home and draw a hot bath. Lighting candles and keeping an open bottle of wine next to the tub, she would bawl until she couldn't cry any longer. When the water had gone cold, she would dress herself in the warmest sweats she had and open another bottle of wine before sitting on the couch and trying to get lost in whatever was on TV.
Emily Prentiss would drive around, watching the nightlife on the streets. She would find a bench to sit on and observe how deliriously oblivious people were to the horrors she and her team faced everyday. She would envy that they didn't know any better. That they could enjoy life carefree without knowing the monsters that lurked among them. Then after she couldn't stand it any longer, she would retreat back to her car, already heading towards her destination before she could really think about it.
The knocking on the door would be persistent, almost frantic. It would only take a minute for the door to swing open and for blue eyes to lock on brown eyes. It would take less than a minute for a hand to reach out to grab a handful of shirt and pull the other into the house, crashing their lips together as the door slammed.
They all had their own ways to deal. Tomorrow would be a new day, and each one of them would try to forget about this night. They all knew how each other dealt with these types of cases. They all knew that it was an unspoken bond between them. They all knew that it's what made them a team, a family. There were no secrets among them, no matter how hard they tried to keep them.
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