Related episodes: 3.20 Lo-fi

Szforzando-used in musical notation as an instruction to play a note with sudden, strong emphasis

"We'll be leaving on a case today," Hotch announced as he poured himself a second cup of coffee.

I looked up from my orange juice and blueberry muffin and scanned his face. It wasn't often that I was told in person about Hotch and the team leaving.

"Where?" I asked.

"New York. There have been some shootings recently and we were called in to work up a profile," he answered.

"How long do you think you'll be gone?"

"I'm not sure. There have been five shootings so far, all random, in public, and the shooter is wearing a hood so we can't see his face on the cameras."

I could translate that in my head to mean they didn't have a clue as to what was going on yet. Hotch was still waiting for me to say something though.

"Garcia is coming with us to work on the surveillance system already in place, so you won't be able to call her if there is a problem."

"So can I expect a souvenir?" I joked.

Hotch barely cracked a smile which told me that there was something else that was bothering him but that he didn't want me to know. Sometimes, I couldn't believe how much profiling I was picking up just living with him.

Later that morning, I jumped a little, feeling my phone vibrate in my pocket while rehearsing in orchestra. I didn't jump when it buzzed again a second later but it was still surprising. I waited until I was at my locker, loading up for the rest of my morning classes before checking my phone.

The first message was from Hotch: We're on our way to New York. Will call when I can to check up on you. The second was similarly from Garcia: I'm leaving on a jet plane! Have fun chickadee!

I was sure that if the judge who had handled Hotch and Haley's divorce had known just how much I was left on my own, he would have insisted I go with Haley. I was guessing that if the case was complicated enough to need Garcia with the team on the ground, it might be a week or more before they were back. Honestly, everyone was lucky I was able to look after myself and didn't go crazy on my own.

At band later that day, I said to Michael, "I'll make you dinner if you drive me home today and let me park at Leo's to walk to school for the next week."

Michael raised a single eyebrow. "Hotch leave for a case?"

"Must be a doozy," I confirmed. "Garcia is going with."

"Did he say where?"

"New York. I thought I might look it up tonight."

Michael smiled and I smiled back. It would probably be the longest running theme for our friendship—looking up the team's cases. That and complaining about our fathers. There are worse foundations.

"Then I think we definitely need a Batman marathon tonight," Michael said.

I groaned. "You're not seriously going to make me watch Shumaker, are you?"

"Relax, I meant the cartoon show," he assured me. "No Bat-nipples for you."

I rolled my eyes and punched him on the shoulder. Michael winced and rubbed at his arm, making faces at me. I punched him again.

"Wuss. That didn't even hurt and you know it."

"You're so mean to me. Just for that, I want meat for dinner."

And that was how I found myself at the grocery store later that afternoon, figuring out what to cook that would please both of us without making me sick to my stomach to make. Sure Michael had been joking, but I wanted to surprise him. Even though it was now a year after my mother's death, I still couldn't handle the sight or handling of raw meat or even eating most of it. I could manage to eat and prepare seafood mostly, and poultry I could manage to eat on occasion. Pork and beef though…they were still most definitely out of the picture. The look and smell was much too familiar and just made me sick to my stomach.

However, there were exceptions to every rule, which was why I had a casserole of homemade, from scratch, macaroni and cheese with crumbled up bacon (courtesy of the pre-cooked variety) and a crispy breadcrumb topping bubbling in the oven when Michael rang the buzzer to be let in.

"I trust this is satisfactory?" I asked archly when we were seated on the couch with full plates of mac and cheese and a simple green salad, waiting for the DVD menu to load.

With exaggeration, Michael took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, and then swallowed.

"Well, it beats the ramen I have in my pantry," he admitted.

"Asshole," I muttered under my breath before taking my own bite.

There wasn't much talk after that as we munched and watched the Caped Crusader save GothamCity. Hannah even came out and joined us on the couch, curling up in my lap after thoroughly inspecting Michael. My cat's list of tolerated people had grown to include him, Hotch, and Garcia. It was definitely progress.

Around nine o'clock, Hotch called to check in.

"You'll be okay on your own for several days?" he asked.

"Don't worry about me," I assured him. "How are things looking up there?

Hotch sighed over the phone; I knew he was debating what to tell me while weighing both content and confidentiality. "We had another shooting today like the others so we only have a general profile. There's still a lot of work to be done."

"Be safe," I said unexpectedly. I didn't normally let Hotch know that I worried about the team in the field, mostly because I tried not to acknowledge it myself. If I worried every single time they all went out on a case, I would wear myself to exhaustion in a month. And even though I knew that Hotch and Reid and the rest were all trained agents—good, trained agents—I was also acutely aware of the type of criminal they faced head on. Especially when even they weren't really sure what or who they were dealing with.

"I don't want you to worry," Hotch said. "We're working with the local office and NYPD on this. There are plenty of agents and cops and we're all watching each other's back. Understand?"

"Yeah, of course," I answered breezily.

"Are you sure you'll be all right?"

"Absolutely." I thought about changing the subject. "You left enough emergency cash, I can call Haley if I need to, and I'll keep busy with school and work."

"And college research," Hotch reminded me, going along with my topic change. "You might consider applying to some now and the early action deadlines are coming up."

"I know. I have an essay that I can tweak and I could ask Mr. Rose for a recommendation letter."

"It's not that I want to push you…"

"You're looking out for me and want what's best for me," I finished Hotch's statement. "I understand."

"All right. I'm guessing Michael came over tonight?"

I looked over where Michael was still sitting on the couch. "Yep. I traded dinner for parking."

"I'm trusting that you'll call it a night at a reasonable hour, please," Hotch requested. "Check that the windows and door are locked before you go to sleep."

"No worries. You'll tell everyone I said good luck?"

"Of course. Good night, Rachel."

"Good night, Hotch."

Michael waited until I was back on the couch before looking at me with concern on his face. "You okay? You seem a little…off."

I shook my head to clear away my worries, at least succeeding in pushing them aside. "Nothing. Just the usual stuff whenever they leave."

"Do you want me to spend the night? You don't have to be alone."

I summoned a smile that was only half fake and turned to face Michael straight on. "Go back to your bachelor pad, I'll be fine."

There was a certain amount of push in Michael's and my friendship that we each didn't allow anyone else. But there was also the boundary of leaving some things alone. Michael simply accepted my answer and turned back to the TV screen.

"Two more episodes, do you think, then I'll hit the road?"

"Sounds perfect."

After Michael left with his usual instructions to text me when he reached his apartment as well as the leftover mac and cheese, I cleaned up the dishes and dutifully checked the locks on the windows and door before turning the lights off. In my bedroom, I set out clothes to wear the next day, brushed out my hair and changed into pajamas. Hannah joined me in bed and I fell asleep quickly.

I was awake around two in the morning, breathing heavily from disturbing dreams. The only images I could remember were my own blood-soaked hands, shattered glass, a flashing scalpel, and mangled body parts.

"I am not pre-cognitive, I am not pre-cognitive," I chanted to myself. "Just memories." It didn't matter that in the dream, I couldn't tell whose body parts I was seeing.

Instead of trying to sleep again right away, I got up and made a cup of chamomile and peppermint tea and brought it back with me to my bed. I turned my light on to scare away the shadows and got under the covers again. It took me a half hour to drink my tea and stop shaking. When I turned off the light and reclined in bed, Hannah came up with me, rubbing her face against mine. I let her curl up on my pillow right next to my face so that I fell asleep with the smell of her fur in my nose.

I didn't need my alarm to wake up in the morning since I had slept so lightly for the previous four hours. Somehow, I showered, dressed, made my bed, and dried my hair on auto-pilot. I still felt worn down from my bad dreams.

I quickly convinced myself that it was an emergency and grabbed twenty dollars from the drawer in Hotch's desk. I fed Hannah, grabbed my back pack and keys, and drove to the Crown Café for a pit stop before school.

I was in before the commuter crowd, so there were only a handful of people in the shop total and no one waiting in line when I walked up. Instead of Natasha, her grandmother and owner of the café, Matilda, was behind the counter.

"Morning, Mrs. Morris," I said, summoning a smile to my face with effort.

"Tcha, you call me Matilda, I tell you all the time," she chided me. Matilda had emigrated to the States during World War II from Germany, married here, and gave birth to her son, my boss, shortly thereafter. She was doing well for her age, just slowing down a bit and working limited hours. Her English was actually much better than she let on; she liked to play up the little, foreign lady stereotype.

"Sorry, Matilda," I apologized. "Habit."

"And what habit has kept you up so late?" the little old lady demanded. "You look like you slept only a wink last night."

I grimaced and shrugged. "Bad dreams," I explained quickly. "What do you recommend to get me through school?"

"No coffee, it will make you jitter. I get my special awake tea, you wait right there."

Matilda bustled behind the counter, grabbing a travel cup and lid. The kettle she grabbed was back in the kitchen which told me it was a special blend—tea for customers usually came from the Tazo brand individual bags displayed next to the register.

"Sugar, yes?" Matilda asked me. "You are sweet?"

"Yes, please."

She brought my cup over to me and gestured that I should sip right then. Considering Natasha always did the same thing with me when I tried something new, I knew it was a family trait. The first taste hit me between the eyes, powerful, deep, and just sharp enough to clear away my lingering cobwebs. I couldn't place what had gone into it, but I didn't care enough to ask.

"Much better," I said, reaching into my wallet for my discount card and money. "Could I get a half dozen glazed donuts too, please?"

After she handed me the box, Matilda looked me straight in the eye. "Now, if you work today, you tell my grouch of a son to be nice, understand?"

I smiled. "I'm not on schedule today, but thank you."

"Sleep early tonight!" she called after me, imperious as a queen.

After half the tea was gone, I felt like I could forget the dream images. When I pulled up to Leonard's Car Repair, I actually felt like my normal self. Michael was waiting for me and waved me behind the shop to park with the other employees.

"I thought dinner last night was your bribe," Michael commented when he noticed the box in my hands. "What else do you want?" he teased.

"Not for you," I said, slapping away his curious hand. "These are for the other guys, I already covered you."

When Michael didn't immediately interrogate me about my night, I thought the tea had done its work and he hadn't noticed I had been disturbed. I hadn't counted on him waiting until we were walking the handful of blocks to school to say something.

"You only go to the café in the mornings when you're feeling crappy," Michael pointed out. "What's wrong?"

"Bad dreams," I told him. "Just needed a pick me up."

"Your mother?" he asked quietly.

I had to think for a moment before answering him. "Not sure. It might have been, but I couldn't say for sure."

Michael was probably the only person in the world who knew the extent of my nightmares since the first days of our friendship. I hadn't told anyone else just how frequently I woke up from the horrific images my subconscious liked to display while I slept.

"Seriously, I can stay over and sleep on the couch," Michael offered. "You don't have to be alone."

This answer I had ready for him. "Hotch would figure out that you spent the night. It's not that he would mind if you did, but he would know that something was wrong with me and that would make him feel guilty for leaving all the time. It wouldn't stop him from leaving, but he would hate himself even more for it and I don't want to do that to him."

Michael rolled his eyes, but he also sighed in agreement. "Fine. But call me if it happens again tonight. No matter what time it is, you hear?"

I smiled and reached out to take Michael's hand to squeeze. "That I'll do. Thanks."

I made it through French without incident and settled for putting in the ear buds of my iPod during study hall to mentally check out while listening to the Venus, Jupiter, Uranus, and Neptune tracks of Holst's The Planets. Statistics was distracting enough to keep my mind busy and then I went to orchestra. At the end of practice, I went to Mr. Rose with my request.

"Of course I'll write a recommendation letter for you," he assured me. "When is the deadline?"

"I haven't decided where to apply yet," I explained. "But my guardian advised me to look at early action admissions and I want to be prepared."

"That sounds like good advice. How about I have it for you in a week?"

"Great. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome. And Rachel?"

I had been turning away to get to my next class, but I stopped when Mr. Rose called me back. He looked worried.

"You look a little tired today. Is everything okay?"

I summoned a smile and consoled myself that Rose had known me since the summer program I took before starting high school. Of all my teachers, he knew me the best.

"I didn't sleep well last night," I said honestly but vaguely. "It's nothing to worry about."

"If you're sure… Well, try to get to bed early tonight, all right?"

"That's the plan," I assured him.

Physics was easy since we had taken the AP tests last week, just like US History later that day. The rest of my classes weren't gearing up for finals yet, so I didn't have to concentrate on them too much. I didn't work in the bookshop that day, so I went home after school and got a head start on my homework for the weekend. I made a Cobb salad for dinner and made up a new pitcher of iced tea after drinking the last glass. I spent some time on the computer, caught up on my Facebook and email, including the email sent from my brother Alan who was currently in Kenya.

That night, it was Garcia who called to check up on me.

"I don't suppose you have time to go catch a Broadway show, right?" I asked. "Or actually, I wouldn't want you to go without me."

"I would never think of doing that to you," Garcia swore. "But fret not. One day, I will bibbidi-bobbidi-boo us to the Big Apple and we will rock this city."

I flopped over on the couch where I was sitting so that I was lying flat on the cushions except for my legs draped over the couch arm. Hannah took the opportunity to climb up onto my stomach.

"How's the case?" I asked cautiously. Surprisingly, Garcia tended to be more tight-lipped about sharing case-related information with me than either Hotch or Reid. And I never thought it was her trying to shelter me more, just that she never talked about cases more than she had to with anyone.

"Oh, chickadee. It was not a good day."

"What happened?" I demanded.

"No, nothing bad like that," Garcia hastened to reassure me. "But we had another shooting and Morgan and Hotch had some kind of argument about it, that's what I meant."

I struggled to calm my racing heart. I knew without asking that Garcia would never tell me about why Hotch and Morgan had fought because she viewed that as private and not to be spoken about with anyone, including me.

"So, that's seven victims now, right?" I asked instead.

"Sadly, yes. And we had the little rat on camera the whole time, too."

"Then he cannot hide for long from the all seeing oracle then, can he?"

"Absolutely right, chica. Everything okay with you on the homestead?"

"Peachy keen," I fibbed. It was mostly true anyway and over the phone, it would be harder for her to catch me at it.

"Well, I think everyone's headed for the hotel now. Do you want me to have Hotch call you, too?"

"Naw, I'm fine. I was going to turn in early. Just let him know that I'm good, please?"

"I shall spread the word, my darling. Kiss your kitty for me."

"Conquer the bad guys tomorrow. Good night."

"Sleep tight and sweet dreams."

"Yeah, here's hoping," I muttered after I hung up.

I looked down my body and saw Hannah staring at me without blinking. I leaned up and planted a kiss right on her nose. She meowed as I flopped back down into the cushions, but didn't otherwise protest or comment.

At that point, I felt tired enough to sleep, but I stayed awake to watch some TV until ten o'clock. Then, I felt more than tired enough that I hoped to be too exhausted to dream at all. I even lit a stick of lavender incense to keep me calm during the night.

Whether it was catching up from the night before, the incense, or even Garcia's magical well wishes, my sleep was uninterrupted and peaceful throughout the night.

Notes:

Sorry for the late update. It was a crazy weekend. I hope that I will still be able to conclude this movement on Friday, but I'm still editing the last chapter. So, yes, Mvt III is coming to a close with these two finale chapters.

I hope everyone caught on to why I chose the chapter title I did, even though we haven't quite gotten the actual "boom" just yet.

Not a lot else that I think I need to say for this chapter, it should be fairly straight foward. I hope you enjoyed and I look forward to reading your responses as I wrap up this baby and get started on the next movement.

Thanks again, and sorry again.

Cantoris