Breathing Room

A.N.: Man…you guys rock my face off every time I read your reviews! I cannot believe how much this story has caught on! It makes me smile so much thinking that you guys love Brooke and Reid's journey as much as I do.

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The agents of the BAU were slowly trickling in, their young, eager faces shining with thoughts of facing the day ahead.

Hotch could remember those days, after he had graduated from the academy. He had walked through the doors of Quantico, his heart racing with the reality that he could be moments away from stopping some crazed killer from taking another victim. He had anticipated the thanks he was going to receive from the families and survivors he would interact with.

He knew better now.

He knew that a number of the cases he faced everyday rarely ending happily. Lives were lost, dreams were crushed, grief ran rampant. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd been thanked by someone for finding their loved ones killer. He knew that, for every life that was spared by capturing a serial killer, there were many others that had been shattered in his wake. He knew that true evil existed in this world.

He had just never thought it could ever strike so close to home.

Hotch sighed, running a hand through his hair as he turned and headed back to his desk, his eyes traveling to the picture that sat on the corner of his desk.

Brooke's smiling face was peering up at him, her arms wrapped tightly around Jack's shoulders as he stuck his tongue out at the camera. Her hazel eyes were shining with all the enthusiasm and potential a young person could possibly possess. She'd been 21, visiting for the first time since she had launched Clothes Over Bros. public. She'd been happy, and excited for what her future was going to hold now.

How could they have known her future would end up like this.

"What are you saying, Brooke?"

The dark expression on the young brunette's face was enough to clench his heart dead in his chest. Her eyes were cold and icy, an expression he had never expected to ever see. Not in her. It was almost as if they were lifeless.

She arched an eyebrow quizzically at him. "It would make sense, wouldn't it?" she asked softly, her voice hoarse from the extent of her crying. "She knew I wouldn't give up the company without a fight. She threatened me. She sure as hell didn't act surprised when I showed up in New York beaten black and blue. It doesn't exactly pronounce her innocence, does it?"

Hotch sighed, unable to help the thoughts that were drifting through his mind. Victoria had always been cruel. Since they were children, she'd terrorized their younger brother, Sean, to the point that he would leave the room when his older sister was anywhere near him. She had a dark mean streak, and at times, seemed to be without a conscious. He had honestly feared for the well fair of Brooke when she was born, knowing full well that Victoria was incapable of showing such a precious thing the love that was truly deserved. That was why he'd made it a point to make sure Brooke knew just how cherished she was.

But did she have it in her to hurt her own daughter.

"Brooke…this is a serious accusation, do you understand that?"

She smirked, her eyes tilting to the ceiling as she ran a hand through her hair. "That's exactly what she said. 'I'd never physically hurt you.' The thing about that is…Millie, my assistant, was supposed to be there that night. God knows Victoria hated her. Maybe she didn't mean for me to be the victim. But I was, Uncle Aaron. And for that whole time I was in New York, in her apartment, she never once….asked if I was okay." She took a deep, shuddering breath, and tears welled in her eyes again. "Did you know that she never wanted me?"

Hotch froze, his eyes lingering on his niece's distraught face, his heart breaking.

"She told me…she said she wished I'd never been born. That I ruined everything for her. So, if that's true…if she truly didn't want to be a mother, then tell me…what would stop her from making sure she didn't have to be anymore?"

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He was furious with his younger sister.

He'd sat there in silence, listening to the despair and defeat in Brooke's voice, realizing that Victoria had done more damage than he had even realized.

He'd known she didn't want to keep the baby. She'd told him so herself, over 2o years ago, not long after she'd found out she was pregnant. She was furious, unable to comprehend how Richard Davis had let this happen. The truth was, Richard Davis could have cared less about his wife. And once he realized that the baby she carried was, in fact, a girl, not the son he had been hoping for, he could have cared less about Brooke as well.

But never in a million years did he ever think she would be heartless enough to reveal that fact to her own daughter.

Sighing, he pulled out his chair and sat down, reaching across the desk and picking up the handset to the phone. His fingers hesitated over the numberpad for a brief moment before he quickly dialed the number he knew from memory, but had only called three times before.

"Clothes Over Bros."

"Victoria Davis, please," he said softly into the receiver, his grip tightening on the handset as he waited for his call to be connected. He had to bite his tongue to keep from screaming when he heard his sister's voice come over the other end.

"Victoria Davis," she said, her voice oozing with authority he knew she didn't deserve.

"It's Aaron."

An impatient sigh greeted him, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Well, hello, dear brother," she said sarcastically. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this call? Shouldn't you be out saving the world or some other valiant act like that?"

Hotch let his gaze travel to his office windows again. "I thought you might like to know that Brooke is here. In D.C."

"Of course she is," Victoria replied. "She always runs to you when things get tough. Really, Aaron, I told you time and time again, you can't coddle her. She'll never amount to anything if you keep holding her hand through every little twist and turn." She sighed, and he could clearly picture her tossing her dark hair—so identical to her daughter in nearly every way—over her shoulder. "So? Is that all you called to tell me? Her whereabouts? As I'm sure she's mentioned already, we've parted creative ways."

Hotch gritted his teeth. "Parted creative ways?"

"Yes…Brooke's never had the head for business, Aaron, you know that. It was a fanciful dream in the mind of a foolish child that she could take this company as far as she wanted on her own. She finally just…realized she couldn't handle it all. I mean, I don't know what it was like when you were a lawyer, but you cannot imagine the cutthroat empire that the fashion industry is. You have admit, Brooke's a bit fragile."

"Have you completely deluded yourself, Victoria?" he snapped, lowering his voice when he spotted a young agent glancing in the window as she passed his office. He turned his chair so his back faced the door. "Has it slipped your mind, Brooke's visit to you last month?"

His sister was silent on the other end.

"You do remember, don't you? When she showed up on your doorstep—beaten and bruised—and you, instead of showing any concern for her well-being, instead proceeded to tell her your sad little sob story about how she ruined your life?"

"Oh, for God's sakes, Aaron. She was hardly beaten and bruised when she showed up here."

"Then what would you call it?" he demanded, clenching his hand into a fist on his desk.

"I don't know, Aaron. A ploy, maybe? She always did have quite inventive ways to get attention and get what she wants. And you and Haylee were always so keen on giving in to her every demand."

Sitting up in his seat, Hotch felt the reign on his anger snap. "A ploy? A ploy, Victoria? Your daughter, your own flesh and blood, was beaten and left for dead. She was horrified, embarrassed, and afraid to tell anyone. She's been suffering in silence for months. And you're just sitting there, in HER office, and you're telling me that she arranged it all for attention?"

Victoria sighed impatiently. "Look, Aaaron—."

"She thinks you're behind the whole thing," he stated, listening as the other end of the line went silent. "She thinks you orchestrated it all to get her company. Obviously, there's a reason that she thinks that."

"And what? You believe her? Do you honestly think I would have my own daughter attacked, Aaron?"

"When I first picked up the phone, no, I didn't. But after listening to your callousness, and your complete disregard for your daughter's safety and well-being, not to mention her sanity, I'm starting to wonder. I deal with sociopaths on a daily basis, Victoria."

"Oh?" she laughed. "So I'm one of your psychotic villains now? For God's sakes, Aaron , I've never killed anyone. Yes, maybe I took things out a little harder on Brooke while she was growing up, but look at her! I made her what she is today. Well…what she was." She chuckled softly on the other line, a cruel sound if he'd ever heard one. "She's an emotional, naïve child, Aaron. Plain and simple. If she wants to blame her mother for the actions of some unstable individual, then go ahead and let her. You and I both know that I would never physically hurt her like that."

"No," Hotch sighed, closing his eyes. "You just settle for crushing her spirit and making her feel unwanted."

"It builds character," Victoria replied unemotionally. "Now, if you excuse me, I have business to attend to. Do tell Brooke that I hope she enjoys her vacation."

The sound of the dial tone rang in his ears, and he was unable to do much more than sit there in shocked silence. How could she be so cruel? True, he saw it day in and day out, among the horrible human beings he chased after. But to know that your own flesh and blood was suffering in ways that could barely be described, and not care the slightest bit…

He hung up the phone, and rested his head in his hands on his desk. He remained like that for a long moment, taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart. He needed to keep a level head here. For Brooke, and for his team. He had a job to do, after all. But first thing was first…

He caught sight of J.J. walking past his office in the direction of her own, and he rose from his seat. Walking quickly to the door, he pulled it open, calling her name. She turned, her blonde ponytail swinging behind her as her smile greeted him. A large pile of case files were clasped against her chest, and she nodded at him in greeting as she headed in his direction.

"Morning, Hotch," she said, her brow furrowing when she noticed his weary face. "Is everything okay?"

"J.J., I need you to do something for me," he said, watching as she adjusted the load in her arms, nodding. "This needs to stay between the two of us for the moment. I don't want the rest of the team to know just yet." He saw the wariness that passed through her blue eyes, and he sighed, knowing the various scenarios that were passing through the agent's mind. "I need you to get ahold of your contact in Charlotte." Her frown increased as she nodded. "I need you to find out if there have been a rash of robberies or assaults in the area…see if any of them have been around Tree Hill, and see if there have been any leads on anything that's been stolen. Computers, anything electronic. See if they have any leads. If there's anything at all to begin with."

"Tree Hill?" J.J. asked, shifting slightly on her feet as she glanced into the bullpen, lowering her voice as she leaned into towards him. "Hotch…did something happen to Brooke?"

Hotch merely stared her, clearing his throat before he took a step back. "Let me know what you find out."

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"So…dinner went well?"

Reid glanced up from his computer at the sound of Morgan's voice, and he looked over the see his friend's smiling face walking into the bullpen. "It went fine," he said nonchalantly, turning his attention back to his previous activity.

"Fine? That's all I'm getting?"

Reid looked back at over at him, pursing his lips, before he nodded. "Yeah."

Morgan laughed, leaning against his desk as he opened his mouth for a retort, but he was cut off when Hotch's voice came from above them.

"Reid? Do you have a minute?"

Never had Reid been more intimidated by such a simple phrase. Ignoring the grin that plastered across Morgan's face, Reid rose awkwardly from his seat, straightening his tie as he made his way up the stairs towards Hotch's office, where his superior—and Brooke's uncle, reminded himself—was waiting next to the open door. Offering a nervous smile, he let Hotch usher him inside, and he stood hesitantly in front of the desk, his hands jammed deeply in his pockets.

He'd never really been in this position before. He'd dated over the years—not often, of course, but he still dated. But he'd certainly never been faced with the parent—or, in this case, surrogate parent—of someone he was interested in. And yes, he was interested in Brooke. Even though she was his polar opposite, there was a sheer vulnerability and authenticness about her that just drew him.

So he stood there, facing Hotch with the expression of a man facing a firing squad, and braced himself for the lecture he was sure was coming.

He certainly didn't expect what the older man actually said.

"Reid, I wanted to thank you."

Reid frowned, looking over at him. "Sir?"

Hotch sighed, crossing his arms over his chest as he nodded. "Brooke told me about her attack last night after you dropped her off. She told me that you played a large part in her finally coming clean to me." He looked at him. "I don't think I have to tell you that Brooke is an incredibly strong woman. She's faced more things than most 23 year olds ever have to, and she did so with determination. But, despite her brave façade, she's much more fragile than she cares to admit. Especially to me. She deals with things on her own because she feels like she has to. And that's something that stems back to the way she grew up."

Hotch's jaw tightened as he spoke, and Reid could see the emotions pass over his face rapidly as he tried to reign them in.

"She could have gone forever without telling me what happened to her. She would have suffered in silence, dealt with it by herself. But, somehow, you got her to come to me."

Reid cleared his throat. "Hotch, I don't think I—."

"You did," he interjected. "You and Brooke are a lot alike, Reid. You both see the world in a way that is unimaginable to any of us. Brooke connected with you because of that very fact. She recognized a bit of herself in you, I think, and it led her to realize that she didn't have to deal with this alone, or that she wouldn't be treated like some enigma if she told the truth. Because of you. Because you shared your own experience with her, for no other reason than to get her to see that fact. It hasn't happened often to her. And, obviously, it made all the difference. So…thank you. Thank you for helping her."

Reid stared at him, processing every fact that he had just explained to him. He still didn't believe that he was the reason Brooke finally went to her uncle with the truth. She had done that on her own. He may have helped pave the way a bit, but it was her who made the final decision. Hotch was right—she was far braver than any other woman her age. She was beautiful, but it was easy to see the war wounds she tried to hide so well in her face and her eyes.

He knew about them all too well.

Clearing his throat, he nodded. "You're welcome," he said quietly.

Hotch nodded, offering up a rare smile as he shrugged. "You thought I was calling you in here about the date, didn't you?"

Reid laughed, shifting on his feet as he shrugged.

"Trust me, Reid," he said, shaking his head. "There are far worse people Brooke could have decided to associate with in her time here. I trust you. I know you. Those are characteristics her past…friends haven't exactly possessed. I don't doubt for a second that she's not in the best hands she possibly could be right now. You made her old smile come back, which is something I haven't seen in years. So I'm not going to complain. But I'm trusting you to look after her with the care you do in your work here, at the BAU. And if your friendship develops into something more, well…I guess I'll deal with it when the time comes."

Reid nodded, uncertainty clouded his youthful features. Hotch was speaking so certainly, as if a relationship was inevitable between him and Brooke. The thought was pleasant, he admitted. Brooke truly wasn't like any other girl he'd ever known. But, as he'd thought earlier, she was his polar opposite. Everything he wasn't.

How would it ever work?

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"Hey, B. Davis! These sketches are awesome!"

Brooke smiled at the excitement she heard in her best friend's voice, and she laughed, lifting her coffee mug from the kitchen counter as she made her way to the couch, the phone cradled against her neck. "I'm glad you like them, P. Sawyer."

"Um, 'like' is totally not even the word, Brooke. These are amazing." She could a faint music in the background, and she recognized the voice of Mia, the young recording artist Peyton had signed as her first act at her record label.

"Is that Mia's new album?"

"Why, yes it is. Mia has been one busy worker, let me tell you." She laughed, and Brooke could picture her smiling face, and she suddenly missed her friend. "Hey, I forgot to tell you that your uncle called me the other day."

Brooke frowned, setting her coffee on the table in front of her as she curled her legs up underneath her. "He did?"

"Yeah, it was crazy," Peyton continued. "I haven't talked to him since…God, graduation. But he called and was asking about you, like if anything was bothering you or anything. I told him about Victoria, but he seemed to already know that. And about your clumsy ass falling down the stairs. Anyway, I think he's worried about you for some reason. Is everything okay?"

Brooke sighed, closing her eyes as she leaned back into the couch cushions. Uncle Aaron had known along that everything wasn't okay. She knew better—of course she hadn't fooled a trained profiler. He had always been able to tell when she was lying. From stealing the cookie from the cookie jar to sneaking out with the boy from across the street that summer when she was 14. She couldn't ever get anything past him.

"Brooke?"

She opened her eyes, running a hand through her hair. "Yeah, Peyton, I'm okay. Just…the whole thing with Victoria and…giving back Angie. I guess I've been taking it a little harder than I thought. I'm fine, though. This little mini vacation was just what I needed. But do not think that I am slacking on your wedding dress, Miss Sawyer. I've got the fabric ordered and on the way. You are going to be a beautiful bride, if I do say so myself."

"Well, as long as my maid of honor isn't more beautiful than me…so make sure your dress is hideous, okay?"

Brooke's jaw dropped open, and she sat up on the couch, a smile breaking across her features. "Me? Really?" she squealed excitedly.

Peyton laughed. "Well, yeah, it shouldn't be a surprise."

"But it's so good to hear!" Brooke laughed, nearly bouncing in her seat.

"Brooke Davis, you are crazy," her best friend laughed across the line. "So, are you going to be D.C. the whole wedding planning? 'Cause, you know…we're kind of missing you back here."

Brooke nodded, her smile slipping from her face as she sat back into the couch. Returning to Tree Hill had been something she'd been thinking about all night. It was understatement when she said a weight had been lifted off her shoulders after telling her uncle about the attack. She felt lighter, and she felt like she could breathe again. But, when she was being honest with herself, she wasn't sure she was ready to go back and face everything just yet. To go back to her empty store, to see her happy, smiling friends and go back to pretending that her whole world wasn't turning upside down; that she wasn't completely at a loss of what she was supposed to do now that she didn't have Clothes Over Bros. to go to every day.

At least here she didn't have to put on a brave face. Uncle Aaron knew everything, and Reid was there to help her through everything.

Reid…

She couldn't stop thinking about him since he'd dropped her off last night. She couldn't explain it, but there was something about the socially awkward genius that made a blush come to her face. She didn't know if it was his sweet, awkward smile, or the way his voice could just soothe her into calmness, even if he was spouting off some random fact that she didn't completely understand. It was like she didn't have to pretend around him. She could just be Brooke.

She just wasn't sure she was truly ready to leave.

"I'm not sure just yet, Peyton," she said carefully, not wanting to offend her friend or hurt her feelings in any way. "You know, it's just been awhile since I've really had time to spend with Uncle Aaron and Aunt Haylee…and Jack has grown like a foot and a half since the last time I saw him. I'm just kind of enjoying the break for awhile. Not that I don't miss you guys like crazy, too, but…"

"You need a break," Peyton finished. "I get it, Brooke. Trust me. I know it's been a crappy year for you, too. Don't worry about it. As long as you're here for the wedding, I have no problem with you staying right where you are. And I know everyone else will feel the same. So…take your time. Enjoy your family. Maybe steal some state secrets from the FBI while you're at it, like if Marilyn Monroe really committed suicide."

Brooke laughed.

"What? Come on, there have to be some perks to having an FBI agent for an uncle. Get me some dirt!"

Brooke shook her head, smiling. "I love you, P. Sawyer."

She could hear her friend's smile through the phone. "I love you, too, B. Davis. Now get to work. I'm not paying you to slack off on your vacation. I need a kick ass wedding dress."

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"Janet McCreary, 25."

The young face that flashed at them from the projector screen was smiling, dark brown hair cascaded around a round, lovely face.

"She disappeared after her shift at a department store, here in D.C."

They watched as the smiling face of Janet McCreary was replaced with two other photos of similar looking young women. All brown haired, all early to mid twenties.

All missing, or dead.

"She's the third woman to go missing over the last month. She disappeared in the same area as the other two, her car abandoned outside a gas station, keys still in the ignition. The body of Sarah Knight was found two weeks ago, in a forest not far from Highway 33. She'd been raped, beaten, and strangled."

Rossi looked up from the file open on the desk in front of him, a frown marring his bearded face. "Why are we just hearing about this now?"

"The local police didn't think there was a connection until the last abduction, and then the body of Sarah was found. They started to compare the different cases, spotting similarities," J.J. explained, pointing the remote in her hand to the screen, watching as a new image took over.

The BAU team leaned forward, their eyes taking in the writing that had been carved into Sarah Knight's stomach.

" 'That which was unclean, now remain clean,'" Reid recited, his brow furrowing.

"The same message had been left in the vehicles of the other two missing women. After Sarah was found, they went back over Janet and Bethany Markus' cars, found the same message hidden somewhere inside."

"So what are we looking at?" Prentiss asked, leaning her elbow on the table as she scanned the photos on the screen. "Religious fanatic?"

"Not necessarily," Reid said, looking over at her. "There's no real mention to any biblical literature in his message. It hints towards the blood of Christ in a way, but it seems to speak more towards how he viewed the victim."

"Unclean?" Morgan asked, twirling his pen in his hand. "Police said that Sarah wasn't a real big party girl. She was a paralegal, working her way into law school. She didn't have a boyfriend, didn't seem to sleep around…"

"Anymore," J.J. added, crossing her arms over her chest as she walked closer to the table. "Her parents said that she was a bit of a wild child in high school. Drugs, alcohol, sex…she apparently had a bit of a reputation. But after a party where she was slipped some Rohypnol, it scared her straight."

"She was raped?" Hotch asked.

J.J. shook her head. "No, a friend tracked her down before it could get that far. But her parents said the experience was a wake up call for her. She cleaned up her act, graduated top of the class, and went on to college."

Rossi nodded, leaning back in his chair. "So obviously, someone still sees her as falling short of the 'clean' definition. What about the other two? Janet and Bethany? Same story?"

"Somewhat. They both were pretty wild in high school, but eventually cleaned up. But Janet never went to college, instead took a job at her aunt's department store. Bethany is a crisis counselor."

Hotch cleared his throat, his eyes traveling over the papers in front of him. "Sarah disappeared two weeks ago, Bethany a week after that. Sarah's body was discovered the day after Janet went missing. Obviously, the unsub is ensuring he has a living victim at all times."

"More than one, if Bethany is still alive," Morgan added. "Is there any other connection between them, other than their rebellious pasts?"

J.J. shook her head. "None that the police were able to uncover. They all worked on opposite sides of town, no mutual friends…."

Hotch nodded, closing the file in front of him. "Alright…we'll head out in ten."

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And life still goes on for Hotch, even after a startling revelation.

Hope you guys liked this one! I know there wasn't a lot of Reid/Brooke interaction, but I promise more of that next chapter!

Let me know what you guys think! I'm loving this story, and I hope you guys are too!