Breathing Room
A.N. Thanks for the fantastic reviews, guys! I'm warming up to Reid and Brooke a lot more after reading how much you guys enjoy it. So…thanks!!
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She wasn't sleeping.
Hotch looked up from the file spread out on his lap, his brow furrowing as he listened to the sounds of his niece wandering through the apartment. Glancing at the digital clock on his bedside table, he saw that it was nearly 3 a.m. It was normal for him to be up so late, but memories of a ruffled, teenage Brooke being nothing but an unresponsive lump under a pile of blankets whenever she would stay for a weekend turned his mouth down in a frown.
Over the last week, he'd been watching Brooke. He would watch for those quirky little habits that had always made Haylee smile, and he had grown concerned when he found them few and far between. Her million dollar smile never quite reached her eyes anymore, her dimples that had made her the most beautiful baby rarely making an appearance. He recognized the shadows in her eyes, the near skittish way with how she moved through a crowd.
Something horrible had happened to her.
There was more to her trip than just "getting away."
But, knowing from past experiences, he knew she'd never tell him. She'd never put her own burdens onto him; her twisted sense of compassion or protectiveness or whatever it was kept her from doing so.
So Hotch could do nothing but turn out his light and lie back in the darkness, listening to the sounds of Brooke doing the dishes that had already been washed, all the horrific possible scenarios running through his mind.
He couldn't stand the thought of any of them.
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Reid closed his hand around the loose bills the barista handed back to him, smiling at her as he nodded his thanks. He shoved the change into his pants pocket, picking his coffee up from the counter and turning on his heel, heading to one of the more isolated tables in the back of the coffee shop.
He sighed as he slung his messenger bag into the empty seat next to him, running a hand through his hair as he sat down. Sipping the piping hot liquid cautiously, he pulled a worn, leather-bound book from his bag, sitting his Styrofoam cup onto the table as he settled back into the chair. Opening the weathered volume to the last page he had marked, he let his eyes fly over the page, letting the noise and busyness of the coffee shop around him fade into the background.
"Dr. Reid."
He glanced up at the mention of his name, and he couldn't keep the surprise from his face when he spotted Brooke Davis standing at the table next to him.
He hadn't seen her since that day she showed up at the BAU, and he was shocked to experience that same punch-in-the-gut feeling at seeing her in a coffee shop. In HIS coffee shop.
Brooke was looking at him with a small smile on her pale face, her hands wrapped around a large Styrofoam cup. She pointed at him, her palm pointing upwards, and laughed uncertainly. "It is Dr. Reid, right?"
Reid shook his head slightly, breaking the stupor, and nodded. "Uh, yeah, yeah," he said, running a hand through his hair again. "Spencer," he added, looking up at her.
She nodded, a strand of brown hair falling out of her neat ponytail, and smiled. "I thought so," she said, adjusting the strap of her bag into the crease of her elbow. She tapped her fingers against her cup, suddenly unsure of what to say.
Much to his surprise, Reid was finding himself in the same situation. That fact had him frowning--since when did he NOT have something to say?
He cleared his throat, looking at her again. "Are you enjoying your visit?"
Brooke nodded, shrugging. "Sure," she said. "It's been a few years since I've stayed with Uncle Aaron, so it's quite the, um…adventure." She smiled. "So, um…do you come here often?" She watched as he frowned, and she motioned to the shop around them. "The um…coffee shop."
"Oh," Reid said, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah."
Brooke nodded again, raising her eyebrows as she shifted slightly on her feet. Why did he keep staring at her as if she'd grown another head? She knew that she looked a little thrown together--washed out blue jeans, one of Uncle Aaron's faded college sweatshirts, and her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail--but even on a lazy day, she knew wasn't horrible to gaze at.
So why did she feel so self-conscious under the gaze of Dr. Spencer Reid?
She smiled uncertainly at him, tapping her fingers against her cup as she bobbed her head. "Right," she said, lifting her hand in a half-hearted wave as she turned on her heel and plopped down into the nearest seat she could find. She sighed, turning her head to avoid Reid's inquisitive gaze, and frowned.
From a few feet behind her, Reid watched as she settled herself into her seat, her hands cradling the steaming cup and raising it to her lips slowly. Unsettled, he forced his gaze back to the book in front of him, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands to get them to focus.
He had just realized he'd read the same sentence three times when her voice reached his ears once more.
"War and Peace, huh?"
He looked up at her, seeing her body turned towards him, a small smile on her face, and he couldn't help but notice how the dimples in her cheek seemed to make her face so much more pronounced. He nodded, smiling. "Personal favorite."
She nodded, shrugging her shoulders. "Yeah, it was on a recommended reading list one year in high school."
"Did you like it?" he asked, resting his elbows against the tabletop.
Brooke laughed, shaking her head. "I didn't read it," she said, smiling when he frowned. "I wasn't really the, uh…book kind of girl in high school."
Reid nodded, tilting his head to the side. "What kind of girl were you, then?"
He watched as her smile faded quickly, and her eyes dropped from his face to her hands in her lap.
"Not the kind that I'm too proud of," she said with a slightly bitter chuckle, swiping at a loose bang that had come undone from her ponytail.
She said it so softly, he had almost missed it. But even if he'd missed the words, the tone with which they were spoken was one he was all too familiar with.
He pursed his lips slightly, his eyes searching her face. "Well, from what I understand, you should be proud now," he said, smiling when she looked up at him. "You know, Brooke, as much as it might seem like it at times, our past doesn't define us. It might shape us into who we are, lead us on a certain path, but at the end of the day, it the decisions you make and how you feel about them that really matter. The past is just that: the past. It doesn't necessarily define who you are anymore than…standing in a garage makes you a Cadillac."
She barked out a laugh then, and it made his smile widen just slightly.
"Well, Dr. Reid," she said, leaning an elbow onto the back of her chair and arching an eyebrow at him. "I guess you are a genius, after all."
Reid smiled, opening his mouth to reply, but the chirping of his pager on his hip cut him off. Throwing her an apologetic shrug, he glanced down at the illuminated screen, recognizing the familiar code for a 911 conference, and he sighed. He raised his head, surprised to see what can only be described as an understanding smile on the pretty brunette's face. She nodded.
"Go on," she said, smiling. "Bad guys aren't going to catch themselves."
He smiled, nodding, and quickly rose to his feet, gathering his belongings and shoving them into his bag as he gulped down the last of his coffee in three quick swallows. Thankful that the piping hot liquid had cooled down significantly, he pulled his messenger bag over his shoulder and smiled at Brooke as he weaved his way through the tables.
"Spencer!"
He turned back when she called his name, and he watched as she smiled at him, shrugging.
"Thanks."
Reid nodded, ducking his head quickly when her smile widened, and hurried out the door, that uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach suddenly growing much more intense than ever before.
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"B.B.!!"
Brooke grinned as she dropped down into a crouch, tossing her bag to the side and spreading her arms wide open to catch the four-year-old boy that was racing towards her with surprising speed. She laughed when Jack threw his arms around her neck, and she wrapped her arms around him in kind, ignoring the dull pain that throbbed in her ribs at the contact.
"Hey, there, handsome," she said brightly, pulling back from his embrace slightly to look into his face. "Man, look how big you've gotten! You're almost as tall as your daddy!"
Jack's young face burst into a big grin, and she couldn't help but laugh when he giggled. "Noooo, B.B," he said, shaking his head.
Brooke smiled, ruffling his short blonde hair. "Well, maybe not yet, but pretty soon you will be."
"In which case, we'll all be in trouble."
She looked up at the sound of her aunt's voice, and took a hold of Jack's hand as she rose to her full height. She smiled at the friendly face of Haylee Hotchner, tilting her head to the side as she walked towards her. "Hi, Aunt Haylee."
Haylee grinned as she pulled her niece into a hug, clutching the slight girl to her closely. "Oh, Brooke, it seems like forever since I last saw you." She pulled back, hands reaching up to cup her cheeks as she pushed a few dark bangs from her eyes. "You look as beautiful as ever."
Brooke smiled, fighting against the tears that she could feel welling behind her eyes at the compliment. When was the last time Victoria had ever said something so nice to her? She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from crying when she couldn't come up with a single instance. "So do you," she said, nodding. "I like your hair shorter."
Her aunt smiled and raised a hand to her hair self-consciously, running her fingers through the short bob. She shrugged. "Just needed a bit of a change," she said softly.
Brooke chuckled softly, smiling down at Jack as he swung their arms back and forth. "Tell me about it," she said. She tightened her grip on Jack's hand, looking back up at Haylee. "And this one! Are you sure he wasn't replaced by some crazy-fast growing alien or something? Because the last time I saw him, I swear he didn't even reach my knees. Now look at him!" She gasped playfully, putting one hand on her hip and looking down at her cousin. "Has someone been eating their veggies?"
Jack's face quickly scrunched up into a look of disgust at her statement, and both women couldn't help the barks of laughter that escaped their lips.
Shaking her head, Haylee put an arm around Brooke's waist, motioning towards the kitchen where the scent of fresh-brewed coffee was pouring from. "Come on, sweetheart," she said, leading the way down the hall. "We've got a lot to catch up on."
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"I hear you've got a visitor."
Hotch looked up from his desk to see David Rossi standing in his doorway, arms crossed over his chest, an amused smile on his bearded face. The older agent was dressed in his customary blue jeans with a red button down shirt tucked into them, his blue tie hanging slightly askew around his neck.
Hotch nodded, setting his ink pen aside. "Yes."
Rossi nodded, taking a few steps into the office. "It's all Garcia seems to be able to talk about," he said, chuckling. "You do realize that she's severely put off with you for not mentioning Brooke as your niece before now?"
Hotch sighed, nodding once more. "I've been told," he said, sitting back in his seat as his coworker and friend took the one across from his desk. "I'm honestly surprised you're just now mentioning Brooke. She's been in town for over a week now."
Rossi shrugged, crossing his hands over his stomach. "Figured you'd be getting enough mob fanfare with the younger generation. If you remember, I knew Brooke Davis before she was 'Brooke Davis,'" he said with a energetic gesture of his hands. He laughed, shaking his head. "Course, the last time I saw her she barely reached your hip and was solely focused on the Backstreet Boys concert she'd roped you into taking her to. How did that go, by way?"
Hotch grimaced, closing his eyes as memories of screaming tween girls and pubescent boys singing on multi big screens flashed through his mind. "Never. Again," he said softly, repeating the same phrase he'd muttered to his wife when he'd brought his over excited niece home that night.
Rossi laughed, shaking his head. "Well, I'm sure she's changed a bit since then. I read that, uh, that book her high school boyfriend wrote. What was it…something Ravens."
"An Unkindness of Ravens."
He snapped his fingers, nodding. "Yeah, that one," he said. "Talented kid, being able to make words flow like he did. Anyway…when I read that, I have to admit that sometimes I found it hard comparing the girl in that to the girl who used to visit you every summer."
Hotch sighed, nodding. Lucas Scott's book had certainly made a splash when it first hit bookshelves over four years ago. He could still see the look of disgust on his sister's face when Haylee had shown it to her. She'd said it was a disgrace; to have her daughter's sexual exploits exposed for the whole world to read. She hadn't even read the thing. She had no idea that it was such a small chapter in the novel. She didn't read about how much Brooke had changed and matured through the course of those two years. How she'd conquered fears and loved and lost, all for the better sake of someone else.
But then again, Victoria Davis didn't really know her daughter at all.
"She's different," he finally said, tapping his fingers against the desktop. He looked up and caught his friend's eye. "Brooke. She's not herself. It's something that I've noticed more and more since she arrived. She's skittish. She's up at all hours of the night. I know she hasn't slept through the night since she got here. She's quiet…"
"She's in a new town," Rossi said, shrugging. "She's somewhere she's really not familiar with. She's probably just thrown off a bit. Give her a bit more time and I'm sure--"
"I think someone hurt her, Rossi."
Rossi froze, his brow furrowing as he leaned towards the other agents. "Come again?"
Hotch sighed, reaching up to run a hand down his tired face. "I've been doing this job enough to notice the symptoms. The skittishness, the noticeable weight loss, the rash decisions. She signed over her whole company to her mother. Everything. She's been working towards that fashion line since her senior year of high school. Victoria was causing quite a bit of trouble for her, but Brooke doesn't stand down in the middle of a skirmish like that. She'd fight until she knew she'd either won or lost. There's no half-way when it comes to her.
"Then suddenly she just decides that it's not worth it anymore?" He shook his head. "It doesn't make sense, Dave. It would take something truly horrible for her to even think such a thing when it comes to her company. I know that. And I know that something had to have happened, something that she's still either reliving or too scared to face."
"And that's why you think she came here? She's running from someone?"
He shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe she just wanted to get as far away from Tree Hill as possible so she wouldn't have to deal with whatever it is. I don't know. But I know my niece. I know her bubbly personality and every little quirk that makes her who she is. And none of that is there anymore. There's just this…hollow, scared shell of a woman who seems so scared to even open her eyes in the morning."
Rossi sighed, sitting back in his seat. "Well, if there's one thing this job has taught us, it's to go with our instincts. Have you tried talking to her?"
"I haven't even broached the subject," he replied, shaking his head. "I'm honestly not sure how I would even bring it up. Maybe we do it everyday, but it's with complete strangers." He sighed. "Maybe I'm a little worried I won't be able to hear about it."
Rossi nodded. Hotch had always been protective of the little brunette that had been his shadow every summer since she was three. He could still remember the first time he'd met her, at one of the FBI annual picnics that don't really occur so annually anymore. She'd been the most adorable five year old he'd ever seen, with her hair in pigtails and wearing a pink sundress. She'd held onto to her uncle's hand as she skipped beside him, and her smile could have dazzled you no matter how far away you were standing. She'd meant the world to Hotchner.
Looking at him now, it was quite obvious that she still did.
"Maybe," he said softly, clearing his throat. "But you just have to keep in mind that sooner or later--like with any victim of a violent crime--she'll need to talk about it. It's the only way she'll be able to deal with it and move on. She's a talented girl, Aaron. Just because the whole Clothes Over Boys--"
"Bros."
"Whatever. Just because that company isn't hers anymore doesn't mean she can't get it back. She can start over. She's gotten herself established. I doubt that even Victoria Davis can sully her name enough that no one would take a chance on her again. The proof is right there in the clothes. And whatever else the company made."
Hotch cracked a smile, chuckling softly. "You'd better pray Garcia doesn't hear you talk like that."
"Then it better be a secret you take to the grave."
He laughed, shaking his head, and settled back into his chair.
"I mean it, Aaron. Maybe you just need to give her a little space. She's a young girl, and if something horrible happened to her like you think it did, all she probably wants right now is to try to forget it happened and get back to being that young girl. She's resilient, that much I remember. She'll come to terms with it eventually, whatever it is, and she'll come to you. But in the meantime, you need to go on about everything like you would if this was just an ordinary visit. The team was planning on a going out for drinks with weekend," he said, nodding with his head towards the bullpen where the team were scattered amongst the desks and computers. "Why don't you have her tag along? Get her out of the apartment, mix her in with real people. Could be all she wants right now is to feel like the normal kid she could always be with you."
Hotch nodded, smiling in spite of just how worried he felt at that moment. "Maybe that's a good idea."
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"Won't I be like…intruding on federal business or something?"
Brooke sat on the couch, her eyes glued to the newscast that was on the TV, as her uncle sat reading the newspaper in the chair next to her.
"There really won't be much business discussed, Brooke," Hotch answered, peering at her from around the newspaper. She had her knees drawn up to her chest, a defensive pose if he'd ever seen one. He frowned, silently scolding himself. Don't read too far into things. You have no idea if anything really happened.
"I'm not really sure what I'd talk to any of them about," Brooke said, shrugging. "I don't really have much in common with a crack team of criminal investigators."
Her uncle shrugged. "Well, you've faced off against a psycho stalker with your best friend. That's something we do every week." He smiled when she sent him a glare. "Garcia will be there. I know she's been dying for a chance to sit down with you. I can't guarantee she'll ever let you leave, though, but I do know she'd be happy to see you." When she remained silent, her gaze once more on the television, he sighed, setting the paper to the side. "I just want you to enjoy your break, Brooke. Have a few drinks, meet some new friends. Maybe it will help make this whole transition a little easier. You never know. You just might find yourself having fun by accident."
Brooke smiled, shaking her head, and turned to look at her uncle. His face--a bit haggard from the violence and pain and horror he'd witnessed day in and day out for years--was fixed on the TV now, his attention diverted for the moment.
It was times like this when she wanted nothing more than to spill her guts to him. To confess her fear at closing her eyes at night, afraid that she'll see that masked face peering over her, or hear that emotionless voice that haunted her nightmares. She wanted to tell him how she had been beaten and humiliated, and how, deep down, she had a horrible fear that her mother was behind it.
How she couldn't bear to be around her friends and their happiness when she felt so angry and alone and frightened.
The news flashed to a commercial, and before her uncle could turn to look at her again, she'd wiped the despair from her face, merely smiling softly and shrugging.
"Fine, I'll come along," she said, stretching her legs out before rising to her feet. "But I make no promises to not drink my sorrows away and fall into the arms of some nameless stranger who'll make me forget everything that's ever bothered me."
She turned to pad the way to her bedroom, her socked feet silent against the floor, when she heard she rustling of the newspaper.
"Fat chance in hell I'll let THAT happen."
She laughed, shaking her head.
Maybe deciding to take this "vacation," as she'd told her friends it was, with her Uncle Aaron wasn't such a bad idea after all.
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So yes…it's Rossi.
I spent a long amount of time wrestling with whether I wanted Gideon or Rossi to be in this story. I love both of them, but I had to go with Rossi for reasons that will appear in a few later chapters.
Next up, we've got a night out on the town with the BAU, which I'm so looking forward to writing. Brooke gets to know the team a little better, and Reid gets a little closer to our favorite fashion designer.
Review and let me know what you all thought of this chapter. I hope to get the next one up soon!