Day 56, Part 2
I'm barely away from the podium before Jonathan is in my face. Not in the mood, I try to brush him off with the other cameras, but he's not an easy person to just dismiss.
"Gabby, we need to talk." I come to a stop at the door.
"What is it."
"You have to let me break this story, Gabby." I roll my eyes.
"I don't think you get it, Jonathan. We have less than a day to get this one back alive. This is not the time to tell this guy he's got someone with a connection to the FBI. He-" Now Jonathan's eyes roll, before I can finish. I sigh. "He could kill her before we have time to find her." He's silent, considering the information. I can almost see a light beginning to dawn in his eyes, so I keep going.
"I swear, the next thing I need released to the public, I'll call you. It will be all yours, totally exclusive." Finally he nods.
"Alright. I'll keep my mouth shut. But I want your next story."
"Of course. I have your number now; you'll be the first one I call."
Morgan, Aaron, and I are the last ones back to the police station. In the low lights of the conference room, the white bandage on Morgan's forehead almost glows as he gathers files and tosses them into a box. Aaron is taking down the bulletin board, and I start to slowly re-file my news articles.
Rossi enters and says something to Morgan about his head. Aaron mumbles something, but I can't focus. The pictures from the clippings are swimming in front of my face. I close up the folders as quickly as my tired fingers will go.
"Gabby." I swear internally. Jonathan is not the person I want to see right now.
"Hi, Jonathan," I say, turning around.
"Don't sound so excited," he says, smirking. I try to smile.
"It's been a long day." He nods.
"It has. Can I buy you a drink? You look like you need to unwind as much as I do. McGrady's is still open." I sigh.
"I'm…sorry, Jonathan, I can't. Thanks for the offer, though." He almost looks surprised, and I feel like I've been transported back in time.
"You sure?" I nod.
"I'm sure. I'm sorry, but I'm sure." His jaw tightens, and he chews on the inside of his lip.
"Alright." He tries to smile. "If you're in town again, give me a call." I just nod. "It was still nice to see you. Maybe some other time…"
"It was nice to see you, too." He hesitates, then leaves. I turn back to my papers and just stare at them. I swear under my breath and throw a folder into the box a little harder than necessary. I know the others are watching me. Morgan's gaze met mine when I turned around. To avoid them, I drop into my seat and bury my head in my palms.
"Hey." I lift my head out of my hands as Aaron's hand lands on my back. I smile weakly.
"Hey."
"We're getting ready to go." I nod. Glancing around, I see the others are gone.
"I know, um…I think I'm gonna drive back. I'm gonna stop by my dad's…. Roxy's staying there while she gets back on her feet and he asked me to…." Aaron's eyebrows knit together in the middle with concern.
"Are you sure? You look exhausted." I nod.
"I am. But I'll be fine." I can see already this isn't gonna fly.
"What if you stay the night?" I shake my head.
"Nooo, I don't wanna stay. I'm just going by because he asked. I'll be fine, Aaron."
"I'll stay with you. I'll drive you back." I start to laugh.
"I can't fight with you," I say, standing up and throwing my hands in the air. "Not right now." He starts to smile and I shake my head. "Fine, fine. Let me get my stuff and we'll go. This won't take long."
The lights on the first floor of the house glow orange in the night. I lead Aaron up the walk way, and my father meets us at the porch. We step into the warm entry way, closing the screen door to the cold November air.
"Dad, this is Agent Hotchner. Hotch, Gunnery Sergeant Grant Taylor." They shake hands. "Dad, Agent Hotchner was the one who pulled Roxy out of the basement. When I told him I was stopping by he wanted the opportunity to check up on her."
"Thank you for all your work," my dad says. "Both of you. And please, call me Grant." Aaron nods. I've never heard him request that someone actually address him as Gunnery Sergeant, but I have seen him get incredibly offended when not introduced that way.
"I'm just glad this case turned out alright. We were lucky." He glances at me. "Gabby did some great work on this case. Her knowledge proved very valuable." I smile.
"How's Roxy, Dad?"
"She's good, she's good. Exhausted, I think, but she's had dinner and the doctors say she jus' needs to rest. She wants to see you, though." I nod, and we follow him into the living room.
Roxy sits on the couch in the spot I held just a day ago. Her legs are curled underneath a blanket, and she holds a coffee mug. She smiles brightly-if not a little tired-when she sees me.
"Gabriella! I'm so glad you stopped by. Come, sit." She laughs a little. "What am I telling you for? It's your house!" I smile as I sit next to her.
"How are you feeling?"
"Fine, fine," she says, shaking her head dismissively. "I'm just a little tired. Your father's acting like I've been through some kind of war."
"Well, he isn't wrong…" She laughs.
"I know, you're right. I guess I'm just an eternal optimist."
"The woman wouldn't complain if she was dying," my dad grumbles from behind us.
"Oh, Grant." She rolls her eyes. "You ought to try whining a little less, maybe. Anyways, I just wanted to thank you for everything you've done. And same to you, Agent Hotchner," she adds over my shoulder. "I really appreciate it, and I hope you'll pass my sentiments onto the rest of your team." I smile.
"We're just happy we got there in time and you're alright." She smiles and covers my hand with hers. For the first time I see a small crack in her exterior.
"Thank you." I glance back at Aaron, who's smiling just the slightest bit.
"I'm glad you came with me," I say when we get back in the car. "Thank you."
"Thank you for letting me."
"That's why you do this job, isn't it? People like her?" He nods. I smile a little.
"You'd make a good profiler, you know. You're very perceptive. You see things in people that most would miss." I stifle a yawn with my hand before answering.
"And become as crazy as the rest of you?" I ask, grinning sleepily. "Nope, don't think so." He laughs.
"I think you underestimate how well you fit in with us." I smile.
"I don't underestimate it, I just pretend to ignore it."
"Which way do I go to get out of here?" he asks.
"Just pull straight out, and go left in like four blocks, onto Roosevelt," I say through a yawn. "Then turn on University Av. the first chance you get." He nods. I yawn again and curl up against the door, resting my head on the window. I watch as the street lights pass one by one over Aaron's face. He seems more relaxed than I've seen him in days, but the exhaustion is etched in every line of his skin.
"There's a Starbucks on University Av, if you wanna stop for some coffee."
"Sure. It's still open?"
"It's on campus. It's always open."
"Ah….What's McGrady's?" he asks after a second. I groan and roll my eyes.
"Don't ask." He laughs. I shake my head and sigh. "What a day."
"He's not your type, you know." Aaron glances at me out of the corner of his eye, smirking slightly. I have the sudden urge to throw something at him, if only I had something to throw.
"Shut up. I know." And neither are you, yet here we are.
Other than my directing Aaron into the Starbucks parking lot, there's silence the rest of the way. We get our coffees and get back in the car without a word to each other. For a minute we just sit there, and I drink as much as I can as quickly as I can.
"You're not my type either, you know," I say finally, although I'm not sure why. Aaron raises an eyebrow.
"No?"
"No."
"What is your type?" I think about it for a second, trying to decide how to put it.
"Derek," I say finally, nodding decisively.
"Derek is your type?"
"Derek is my type." Aaron nods, looking thoughtful.
"Interesting." I shrug.
"You asked."
"He asked you out, didn't he?" I frown.
"How'd you know that?"
"Lucky guess." I lift the coffee cup back to my lips, looking at him suspiciously over the lid. "You didn't go," he points out. I lower the cup again slowly, thinking.
"None of this was supposed to happen, Aaron. I'm here four more months and then they're reassigning me. I didn't want to get attached to anyone. Not like that, at least."
"So is this decision making time?" All hints of a joke are gone from his face and voice, and he meets my eyes straight on.
"What do you mean?"
"Last time, we agreed we wouldn't decide anything for sure just then. You said yourself, if this keeps up you'll get attached, and you don't want to do that. So do you want to walk away." I don't know what to say. He's right; I said those exact things. And if I abide by any laws of common sense, I should walk away.
"I don't know what I want." He holds my gaze, and I'm having difficulty reading his eyes.
"I don't, either." Impulsively, I lean across the center console and kiss him. I need to know. I need to confirm what I'm already thinking-that it's too late to walk away. With a hand to the back of his neck, I pull him as close as I can in the awkward position. He isn't hesitant to kiss back, and despite receiving my answer the moment our lips touched, I feel no desire to stop.
"You really need to stop having this effect on me, Aaron Hotchner," I murmur when I pull away.
"Sorry. I'll get that taken care of as soon as I can." I start to smile, but it fades quickly. I sit back in my seat, rolling my coffee cup in my palms. "What's wrong?"
"I just…like to have everything figured out. And this is so far from being figured out."
"You don't have to have it figured out right now."
"I know. Still…" I want to kiss him again. Apparently, the person I need comfort from is the one I keep finding comfort in. He's not the warmest person in the world, but his constant sense of strength and solidity is beginning to replace where mine is faltering. I decide to hold back. Now is not the time. More than anything I just want to go home, and I find myself suddenly wishing I was making the two hour plus drive alone.
"Let's just forget about it for now. I'd rather not spend the entire drive in silence, alright?" I ask, sighing a little.
"Of course." He sets his coffee down to start the car. "You've only been here two months?" I nod.
"I know, it feels like it's been two years."
"Where are you being assigned next?" I shrug.
"They said something about New York. I don't know. I'm sure they'll tell me the day before I have to leave and then I have to go to like, Colorado or something."
"Where do you want to go?"
"I dunno. I wanted to go to New York, but now I'm not sure if I could handle living in a city that big full time again. Besides, I hate the Mets too much," I add, trying to inject a better mood back into the conversation.
"Braves fan, right?" Aaron begins to smile again a little. I eye him suspiciously.
"How'd you know?"
"Lucky guess." I narrow my eyes.
"You can't possibly profile that I'm a Braves fan. Or, for that matter, that Derek asked me out, but that one I'm willing to let go."
"Your keychain, that your car keys are on. You pulled them out the other night in the elevator. And I knew your family was from Georgia. The Mets and Braves have been rivals since the 60's."
"I wouldn't take you for a baseball fan." He shakes his head.
"Not me, my dad."
"Ah." There's a pause, during which I drink some more coffee. I suddenly realize how little is left in the cup, and I don't remember drinking most of it.
"Which way next?"
"Go one more light, and turn left onto twenty-nine." He nods. I allow my eyes to rest on his face, taking back up the occupation of watching the lights flicker over him.
"Aaron."
"Hmm?" He glances at me as he slows the car to a stop under a traffic light.
"No matter what ends up happening, I do care about you." He says nothing, simply reaching out and covering my hand briefly with his. The car moves forward again, and I reach for the radio. A ten minute long argument ensues, in which a winner was never really crowned. Smiling to myself a little, I curl my legs up in the seat and lean my head back in silence.
"So this is Charlottesville, huh?" Aaron asks after a minute, as we roll through traffic lights next to the mall and a couple fast food restaurants. I nod, watching Lowe's pass through the driver's side window.
"Yeah. It's not much, is it?"
"Neither is Quantico." I nod.
"True. Very true."
