There was a key under the mat.
That's how she knew that she was expected, of course. Obviously. The key would have never been there otherwise – an agent's paranoia was perpetual and predictable in its own way.
She didn't bother keeping quiet as she turned the key and kicked mud off her boots. Her feet immediately took her to the freezer, and as she dug through the cutlery drawer with one hand her other yanked on the door. Scooping up the mint chocolate chip ice cream, she popped off the lid and dug into the sugary goodness. Letting the spoon hang from her lips, she juggled the lid, the tub, and the extra spoon.
No, wait – she'd grabbed a fork. She dived back into the drawer to switch it out.
By the time the bite had melted in her mouth and she'd identified the correct utensil, Jane wasn't alone in the kitchen anymore.
"You better not be planning on eating all of that on your own," Jason quipped, reaching over to neatly pull the carton from her hands. "This is the good stuff."
Jane held up the spoon she got for him, eyebrow arched in defense. Jason took it with a smile.
"Let's sit," He nodded to the cabin's living room. "We haven't played chess in a while."
Jane was scraping the bottom of the tub as Gideon neatly butchered her knight. And with it, a solid portion of her defense. But she had his queen, so it could've been worse.
"I'm sorry I wasn't at the funeral," Gideon apologized as she studied the board. He didn't give an explanation why. He didn't need to.
"I didn't expect you to be," Jane told him honestly, studying the board. "It was more a courtesy invitation then anything else. You deserved to know; I still consider you family, Jay. Until the day I die."
"Which is hopefully not anytime soon," He huffed. She moved her rook. "... I read the news."
"There was a lot of news to read."
"Now you're just being evasive," The older man tilted his head.
"And you're being opaque," She tilted her head right back.
He took pawn with pawn. She returned in kind.
"You never said you were coming," He tried again.
"You never said you'd be here," She shot back. "And yet here we are."
Knight took pawn.
"How are you, kiddo?" Jay asked, the endearment rare and telling. "I don't mean the bullshit answer. I mean the real one. How do you feel?"
Jane …
"I don't know," She answered honestly. Answered honestly for maybe the first time ever, because Rin knew her and Jack never asked and her team avoided the subject like the plague and always turned to Rin for answers because she wasn't trustworthy to take care of herself anymore and –
She took a deep breath.
"The whole time …" She tried to find the words, twisting Gideon's queen between her fingers. "The whole time I felt like – it was like we were just chasing shadows. When Desi – when Liber went on her spree it was the same thing. We were just reacting, and everywhere we went there was just another dead body for us to deal with and leads were dying left and right and then –"
She stopped.
"And then McCrae took Hotch from you," Gideon finished for her. She nodded.
"I shut down," She barely whispered. Choked the words out. "I – I couldn't. I couldn't. I lost everything – and he just took more. I shut down. For. Eight days, I shut down."
"But you didn't stay like that," He leaned forward, caught her vacant gaze. "You pulled yourself out of it."
"Too late," She shook her head.
"No, not too late," Jay shook his head right back. "Hotch is alive. McCrae is dead. Between the team and that old hacker contact of yours the criminals that aided and abetted the murderer of your family have been arrested and charged. It's over, Jane. It's done."
"But it doesn't feel like it is," Jane snapped, and suddenly everything is boiling over and she can't stay still. "I – He – I – He killed me!"
She sucked in a shaky breath, and Jay just looked at her with those oh-so-sympathetic eyes. She hated it.
"Who I was, he killed me," She ranted, flapping her hands. "I had to build myself up from scratch because of him. He took everyone I cared for, and if they didn't twist them against me then he murdered them because he was an evil monster. And now he's dead – and there's no justice, there's no happily ever after, because I never got to see a jury look him in the eye and tell him that he was nothing more than scum –"
Jason just looked at her. She scrubbed a hand over her face.
"What is this really about, Mari?" Jason asked softly. "What is this really about?"
"... the last time I saw him, he had his hands around my throat," She confessed. "He wrapped his hands around my throat and squeezed and now when I close my eyes that's the only thing I can see."
Gideon stood then, padding over to the bookcase and running his fingers over the spines. Part of her was grateful, for the moment to compose herself. The rest of her was just tired.
He pulled a hardcover from the shelf, and even from across the room Jane recognized it as one of Rossi's.
"When Dave came out with his new book all those years ago …" Gideon traced his fingers over the cover. "I had him set one aside for me. I had him sign it, too, for you – just before your family died. I had planned on sending it to you, to check in. That worry you never finished voicing in that hospital lobby itched, forever itched. I felt like I'd left too soon, that I'd missed something. I hoped that if I'd checked up on you – established some type of correspondence – then somehow I'd be able to assure myself that it was nothing. That you were just a precocious little girl who didn't understand her mom's strange world."
He extended the book for her to take.
It was the one that she had stayed up so late reading, the night before … before her family died.
On the inside cover, under Rossi's printed byline, was a familiar hand – one she saw every day on forms and sticky notes and grocery lists.
'Dear young miss Mari,' Dave had written. 'I hear you may be a future profiler in the making: I'll be sure to save you a seat at the table. – Agent David Rossi'
Jane realized she was crying.
"Mari, I have had so many faces haunt me over my years," Gideon tried for a smile, falling short. "Children and adults, victims and unsubs. The innocent and the guilty… Sarah. But no face haunted me quite like yours."
She looked up at him.
"Your face, as you stood half tucked behind your father as I walked away – a bloody hand tucked close to your chest," Jason's eyes went distant in memory. "Your face as you started to tell me about your mother. The way you bit your lip, averted your gaze – how excited you were at my lecture. Every single thing you did that day haunt my dreams because you were someone that I could've helped. You were someone I could've saved."
Jason locked eyes with her then, coming back into the present. And suddenly she felt like that little girl again, living off of scraps through the winters of Chicago – praying that her heros would come and rescue her.
"When you called me, from Chicago, and you barely left a message – well, I couldn't convince Rossi that it was worth looking into, and Tommy Yates had just resurfaced," Gideon sighed. "I filed for time off and tracked the call. I now know that McCrae had noticed my interest in the case, and had beaten me there. That it was my actions that led him right to you."
"Why are you telling me this?" She asked in the ensuing silence.
"Your face still haunts me," He answered. "Every night I think about whether I could've saved you – saved your family. Maybe you could've become a profiler like you'd dreamed, but then maybe you would've cracked like me. We'll never know."
"It wasn't your fault –" She tried to say, but he cut her off with a shake of his head.
"Jane, I can't promise you that that man's face will ever fade from your memory, because there's every chance that it won't," Jason pressed. "I know that that little girl you were will haunt me until the day I die. But don't let it fester. Don't linger. Don't let him take from you any more than he already has."
"It's not just that," She tried to find the words. "Jay … it's not just –"
She clutched the book tighter.
"I – I know what it's like to close your eyes and never have those faces fade," She cleared her throat. "And this is worse – it's so much worse, but it's still familiar but …"
Jason's eyes, ever keen, saw right through her.
"You've been hiding so long," He mused lowly. "Do you even know how to step back into the light?"
"This isn't what I came here for," Jane changes the topic abruptly, ignoring the small part of her that was whispering how much of a liar she was. "I didn't come here for regret – I come bearing good news."
Jason, graciously, let her go.
"Does it have something to do with that rock on your finger?" He asked puckishly, a twinkle in his eye. "Seems like good news to me."
"Partially, yes," Jane laughed, letting out some of the tension in her shoulders – glancing down at her ring. "But not just that – Hotch and I aren't the only ones getting hitched."
Jay's eyebrows ticked up in genuine surprise, settling back into the armchair he had vacated. She followed suit easily.
"Our good Dr. Reid proposed to his girlfriend, Dr. Maeve Donovan," Jane smiled warmly at the reminder. "Their wedding will be in the spring."
Jason's face was frozen for a long moment, but then he threw back his head in a full-belly laugh that seemed to shake the very walls. Jane joined in with her own chuckles, infected by the joy that had been seeped from the room. It felt good to laugh.
"That's fantastic," Gideon beamed. "That's – I'm happy for him. Spenser deserves that – is she a good woman?"
"A wonderful woman, truly," Jane assured him. "And she can keep up with him, if you can believe it."
Somehow, his wide smile managed to grow.
"I'm here to beat the announcement, really," Jane settled down, growing serious. "I wanted to make sure you didn't do anything stupid."
"Stupid?" Gideon arched a brow. "I'm not in the habit."
"Maybe not, but to be in the BAU you need to have some level of fucked-up emotionally – and you founded the damn thing," Jane pointed out wryly. "Think of this as a preemptive measure."
"Preempting what?" Gideon pursed his lips, smile faded.
"You need to be at the wedding," Jane told him, and it wasn't a request.
Gideon was silent.
"You left, Jay, and I respected that – respect that," Jane continued when it was clear he wasn't going to answer. "But you turned Spinner into who he is today, and you need to be there for him. And for you."
"I promised myself I'd never go back," He told her softly. She scoffed.
"How is attending a wedding anything like going back?" Jane pointed out, almost pleaded. "Jay, I'm sorry that Sarah died. I'm sorry that the work you dedicated your life to was what took her from you. But you need to allow yourself to heal – to see that the world isn't just the collection of faces flashing behind your eyelids. Please, Jay. Be there for him."
"I'll –" He started, stopping. Voice lost.
"Let's just play chess, okay?" She offered an olive branch. "Let's just play chess."
She moved a piece.
"How was Gideon?" Rin called from the kitchen when she got home, tossing her keys in their bowl and shrugging off her satchel.
"He's good, actually," She confessed, scanning the hall for tiny trainers. "Is Jack out?"
"He and Paul went to a movie together," Her fiance answered, and she made her way to the kitchen so he wouldn't have to shout. "Paul's dad is taking them."
Jane collapsed into one of the island stools, propping her chin on her hand as Hotch puttered around the kitchen. There wasn't too much lingering stiffness in his back or movements, she noticed, and the thin fabric of his tee showed he had taken off his bandages. Probably had showered and hadn't felt the need to replace them – which was good. His healing was right on schedule.
"How did Gideon take the news?" He asked, jolting Jane out of her thoughts and passing her some garlic to peel and chop.
"Which news?" She quipped, getting to work. "Our rings or Spinner's?"
"You didn't let Reid tell him himself?" Hotch rolled his eyes, tugging open the refrigerator. "Do we have any more capers?"
"Dunno – I didn't buy anymore, but I didn't finish them either," Jane shrugged, gathering the garlic paper to the side of her cutting board. "I just needed to make sure he didn't fuck it up, is all. And now I get to keep the vision of his Santa Claus laugh in my memory banks until the end of time – it was worth the trip, easy."
"He was happy then?" Aaron smiled, a lightness in his frame. "How'd he react to your ring?"
"He seemed smug," She tilted her head in a half-squint. "How early do you think he pegged us?"
"Honestly? No clue," The profiler snorted. "We didn't know there was a 'we' for a not inconsiderable period of time. Hard to tell what he figured out and when."
"I bet it was stupid early," She smirked, popping a peice of garlic in her mouth – crunching it between her teeth as Hotch wrinkled his nose at her. "What?"
"That is disgusting," He answered with great prejudice, taking the cutting board from her before she could get a second piece. "I'm not kissing you with literal garlic breath."
"Tough luck," She rolled her eyes. "Whatchu making anyway?"
"Rossi's grandma's pasta sauce and some pasta," He answered, nudging the mixture with his spatula. "I think I got it pretty well down."
"I believe in you," She deadpanned, then steeled herself. "Also: we gotta talk about the wedding."
"Which one?" Hotch smirked, shooting her a look over his shoulder.
"Our wedding, dufos," She rolled her eyes again. "I …"
He must've heard something in her voice, as he immediately turned off the heat and turned to face her fully. She steadied herself with a deep breath, studying her ring – the beautiful ring her beautiful fiance gave her because he loved her.
Deep breaths.
"Traditionally," Jane started, her voice a bit distant. "Women wear white dresses on their wedding days."
Hotch caught on immediately.
"Ah."
"Yeah," She grimaced, shooting him a glance. "I can't. Not after … not after McCrae."
His name felt like ash in her mouth. Or still glowing cinders.
"Well let's break this down," Hotch caught her gaze, smiling slightly to comfort her. "Do you want to wear a dress for our wedding?"
She gnawed at her lip, turning the question over in her mind.
"... I don't want to show my scars," She decided. "I mean, I'm not – I'm not ashamed, but I don't want everyone's eyes to just be on me. This should be about us, not my past."
"Okay, we can do that," Rin nodded, taking her hands in his. "But that didn't answer my question. We can find dresses that wouldn't expose your scars – but do you want to wear a dress?"
"What do you think?" She turned it around on him. "This is your wedding too – your memories. And don't say that it doesn't matter what you think because you'll be asking my opinion on your tie and your cufflinks and details like that. This is a partnership."
"That's not quite the same –"
"I'm an independent woman who can make my own damn choices and ask for my husband-to-be's opinions," Jane deadpans. "Would you like to see me in a dress, Hotchner?"
"... yes," He answered. "I would love to see you in a dress."
"See? It's that easy," She spread her hands wide. "I – I haven't worn a dress and felt good in it for a very long time. But if it's for you …"
She trailed off. He just smiled.
"Second question, then," He pulled them back on track. "Do you want to wear white."
Jane felt her breath catch.
"You don't have to," He reassured her quickly, firm. His thumb played with her father's college ring, settled permanently on his own ring finger – drawing her attention to it, to what it meant to them. "After all: tradition can hang itself."
Jane mustered up a smile. She pulled out her phone, putting it on speaker as it rang.
"Dr. Reid."
"Hey Spinner, we were hoping to use you as an encyclopedia, if you have a minute," Jane greeted him. "Hotch is here with me."
"Sure. Maeve and I are just relaxing at home. What do you need?"
"We were talking over wedding details, specifically what Jane would be wearing," Hotch answered for them. "Other than white, what are some traditional wedding colors?"
"White is actually a rather regionalized tradition," Reid fell into his familiar rapidfire explanation, voice pitching with his enthusiasm. "Other than heavily English and French influenced regions and pockets such as Japan and some other parts of southeast asia – and of course where western traditions have spread – wedding dress for both brides and grooms is significantly more colorful than what is considered 'traditional' in Euro-centric society."
"So what are we looking at then?" Jane cut in, pulling him back on track.
"Chinese women wear red as a symbol of good luck, and Malay women wear purple," Spinner focused. "Other than that, patterns and styles are more important than just color. Silver and gold adornments are common, as are bold patterns and meaningful beadwork. You could choose any color, any style, and you would be reminiscent of any number of wedding traditions because the range is so wide."
"Thanks, Reid," Hotch picked up the phone to end the call. "See you tomorrow – tell Maeve we say 'hi'."
And with that, they signed off.
"So …" Jane felt lost. "Was the answer just 'do what you want'?"
"I think so?" Hotch cocked his head. "Not as helpful as it could've been."
"He did specify red and purple?" She offered, sharing in his loss. "Umm …"
"What colors do you like?" He asked, and again she was stumped.
"Ummm … black?"
"Not to tell you what to do on your wedding day," Hotch raised his eyebrows. "But are you really going to wear all black to our wedding? You may look like you're dressed for a Victorian funeral."
"Wouldn't that be something?" She snorted. "And it's our wedding day, Hotchner."
"You like silver?" Hotch offered an alternative, sidestepping her correction. "And Reid mentioned silver as being common."
"Too much like white ... but maybe not just silver," Jane shook her head. Thought it over.
They sat in contemplative silence for a long moment.
"How much of a cop-out would it be if we just – " Jane threw up her hands in defeat. "I dunno – give Garcia my card and tell her to pick something tasteful?"
"... that might actually work."
"Good, let's do that," Jane decided, composing a text. "I'll make sure JJ tags along to reign her in and keep her from going overboard."
Hotch laughed at her prudence.
