A/N: Thank you all for the reviews, I'm really enjoying writing this, probably more then I've liked writing any fanfiction before. Please continue to review! I'd like to hear feedback on this. And if anyone has a phobia request they'd like me to write, I'll do it and dedicate it to you!
harrietamidala1691: You are correct, that's what happened in the show, but I didn't really like how they did that; so I wanted to change it a little bit.
Here's the next installment, R&R please!
Pnigophobia- Fear of choking of being smothered.
Not many people can say they have been at it as long as he has, and mainly he was proud of that. Deeper down, he wasn't in the slightest. He'd saved so many people, and raised the B.A.U. to save so many more. Regardless, the lives they weren't able to save seemed to eliminate the success they have had as a team. Back in the day, during one of there first cases, they had traveled half way across the country to California at the request of the local police. All signs pointed to a serial killer and rapist on the lose along the shorelines. Him and the original few were still young and eager to do their job. Of course, the newest unit was on a tight leash since no one seemed to believe that profiling was an accurate way to catch killers. Back then, the job was more about proving the science of profiling then catching the killers, and his determination had led to what the B.A.U. was today.
That case in California changed why he did the job though, because he realized that it wasn't about the profiling or the chase, it was about saving lives and doing their best to ease the minds of the families left behind. Until that case, he'd never been on the receiving end of anything he'd seen in the crime scene photos. He was blissfully unaware of the terror that was instilled right before the death of each of those innocent people captured in the pictures.
He was cocky and confident, and he didn't take his time. He didn't have to, he was invincible. They located the Unsub with ease, only two days needed to construct a strong and accurate profile. He headed over, alone, to the last known address; not bothering to wait for backup. He kicked in the door with ease, his adrenaline pumping through his veins. That was one of his favorite feelings, the rush he got when he was kicking down the door and going in strong.
The house was dark, and he kept his flashlight trained straight ahead at all times. The quiet was deafening, and he identified himself as F.B.I., not expecting an answer. He cleared all the rooms and was just about to radio in that Trent wasn't home when he found himself on the floor. He was trained in hand to hand combat, but he never had to actually use it when he was alone. On his back, he was at the disadvantage as Trent hit him in the face repeatedly with the object in hand. He wondered why a belt would be his choice of weapon as he struggled to get the upper hand. He wasn't afraid of the pain that came from the beating, and he knew that backup was already on the way. He could take another few minutes of this.
That was, until the belt found it's way around his neck. The air rushed out of his lungs before the belt was even tight enough to keep him from breathing. He never thought he'd forget his training, and the first rule was to never panic; but that's exactly what he did. The second rule was to never take your focus off you attacker, and he did that too. His hands went from fighting against the man above him, to the belt around his neck. Pulled to tight for him to even get his fingers around the rough leather, his heart rate tripled to the point where he was sure his chest was going to burst.
Thankfully, it was over in seconds; backup arriving just before the Unsub had the chance to pull the belt even tighter. Gideon had the man off of him and the belt loosened in seconds, but that feeling stuck with him. Even now, many, many years later, he could still feel and see the bruises on his neck when the lighting was just right. He'd never admit to this, but every time the crime involved strangulation, he'd have a hard time looking at the marks left behind. He even had a hard time talking about it without feeling like his throat was going to close up.
"Why are you taking this so personally, Rossi?" The team had asked, and he shrugged it off like it was nothing.
"She's me when I was just starting out, I told her not to act so quickly and to check herself," he said, frustrated that she hadn't listened. So he'd never admit to why the top button on his shirt was never buttoned, or why his tie was never as tight as it could be, but he'd always do his best to assure that others never had to face those intense fears that they didn't know they had.