CHAPTER 92
CAN I HAVE A HUG?
A week had gone by so quickly.
The BAU had solved another case, a small one, but still, they brought victory back home.
The Academy Trainees had started their trainings at Hogan's Alley, putting all the theory to use. It was a huge mock-up of a real city, where actors were hired to act as hostages and terrorists, while the Trainees used their newly acquired skills to find, track, follow, disarm potential perpetrators.
The mock-up cases felt so incredibly real that most of the times the adrenaline came from real feelings, being under pressure, hurrying to make the right decision and to save someone's life. The FBI had done an incredible job with decors and the people they hired were trained to play different roles, in different scenarios. They'd throw twists at the Trainees – victims would turn out to be the terrorists, a bank robbery would turn out to be a smart decoy for a potential bombing, happening at the same time, at the central plaza of the made up town. There was a whole plane, where Trainees learned how to handle plane attacks and tried to deal with a situation where they had been hijacked.
Angela was loving every second of the Academy at that point. She was giving 200% of her energy into everything she did. SWAT cases were becoming one of her top favorite – she loved being on the field, geared up, surrounded by guns blazing, doors being kicked down, people shouting at the top of their lungs. Angie needed to blow off some steam, so she was incredibly grateful for every chance she got to yell like a wild woman, without being judged for it. She'd shout out orders for her team, while entering a house, or disarming a bomb. She'd be tough, she got to show a side of her that surprised Bryan.
He had always seen her as the sweet, gentle person, who was always nice to people, even when they were trying to knock her down. Yes, she was tough, but her tough side showed through her witty comments and snappy bite backs when people were being assholes to her. She had never really yelled, Bryan didn't even know she had it in her. Yet, seeing her on the field, absolutely in control, standing tall and believing in her words and actions, leading her team when she got to be Captain, yelling and running around with a handgun in her hand, it made him realize how incredibly awesome that girl was, how well she fit in with the FBI. He already had no doubt she belonged there, but this new kind of training only served to reassure him of that.
And Bryan was not the only one who had noticed that. It felt like, in just a week, Angela had transformed into a new person, someone who was on her training officers' radar constantly. They had started checking more boxes on her file, other than ambitious, smart and opinionated.
Angie, in turn, had been checking boxes on her calendar, patiently waiting for a specific day to come. And as soon as that day came, she started counting the hours until she'd find herself in someone's office again.
"I never said it was a woman." Angie said defensively, crossing her arms and showing the person in front of her that she was not as easy to be read.
The day had finally come and she was finally sitting in that comfortable white sofa, inhaling the scent of fresh flowers. These were new, different to the ones from last week. The woman in front of her was wearing a really sweet two-piece costume, with some beige stockings and a pair of tiny heels. She looked so good, like a woman with authority. If Angie had seen her out, on the street, she would have assumed she was a socialite, one of those old money kind of people - rich, elegant, poised.
Yet, as nice as Martha looked, she was giving Angie a headache. Ten minutes into their second session and she had already started pushing Angie's buttons. Where was Hogan's Alley at that moment? Angie desperately needed to scream, to let it all out, to punch things and to kick down doors.
"You didn't have to, my dear." Martha replied to her outburst in a very calm manner.
"Fine. I'm going to call them a he then."
"Angela, you can call them a Monkey. It won't change anything."
Angie spent about five minutes in complete silence. Her eyes scanned the room. There was a wall, full of diplomas and achievements. Angie could not help but feel a bit jealous. This woman could almost be her grandmother, if she had had kids at a very early age. Clearly Angie could not have achieved so many things in so little time, but still, somehow she compared herself to her therapist's success.
There were flowers.
Lots of flowers.
Everywhere.
That must be where that pleasant smell was coming from. It smelled like Spring. Angie closed her eyes and remembered a Spring, at a place she considered home, with a person who made every place seem like home for her.
Martha let her get consumed by her own thoughts. It was only going to help her, even if she wouldn't choose to share it out loud.
Then her eyes opened again and she saw the clock. Ticking.
Good. It was an indication she was still alive. She remembered a time in her life when the clock had stopped ticking.
"Uhh!" She gasped out loud, thinking of that specific event.
"Do you need some water?" Martha suggested, holding a glass out for Angie.
She stood completely still for another minute. Martha didn't even see her taking a breath during that time. Nor exhale. She seemed like a lifelike statue and that was disturbing.
It wasn't until Martha looked Angie in the eyes, that she realized what was going on. Through the years, she had seen many people holding back tears. She knew the signs.
"Do you want a-..." Martha intended to suggest a snack, maybe a glass of juice, a break maybe.
"Can I have a hug?" Angie asked silently, her lower lip quivering, while her face remained completely immobile, other than her lips moving. Her eyes did not blink. She seemed to be staring at nothing, with a blank expression on her face.
Martha's heart broke a little bit. To have Angie come out with such an intimate request was not only a win for her as a therapist, but also a plus for Angie as a human. The first step to healing was admitting the problem. Martha had already figured out Angie's real underlining issue and the lack of intimacy, of hugs, was part of it.
She stood up and held her hands out. Angie did not hesitate for a second before she jumped in. Normally, she hated intimacy. She hated people touching her or showing any sort of affection. Only a few people in the world had ever had that privilege with her. The others had to keep their distance. And yet, not even knowing a thing about Martha, she was allowed to hold her. And it felt good.
"Angela, is there anyone in your life you can talk to right now?"
"No..." She said quietly. "I mean, there's you…for five hours."
Martha still had her in her arms. She felt her heartbeat, a little messy, a little too fast. She felt each time that Angie exhaled, as the air brushed against her neck.
"Does anyone know you're in the Academy?" She hated having to ask that question, but she had to fill in Angie's patient sheet and she was required to specify a person or people who knew where Angela was.
When the girl did not reply, Martha asked a different question.
"Who is your emergency contact?"
Angie shrugged, still not letting go. Her hands were wrapped around Martha like her life depended on it.
"I don't have anyone..." She finally broke down.
With dry eyes, she allowed herself to freak out a little bit. She sobbed, with no tears. It was one thing to know how her life was, but a completely different thing to admit it out loud. It made her feel small. Insignificant. Worthless.
"Listen..." Martha broke off the hug before Angie would need medications if this turned into a panic attack.
"How about you put me as your emergency contact, huh? Sounds good? I live nearby and I have good contacts in the hospital. Just in case. Okay? I'm not saying anything bad will happen to you. I just want you to know there will be someone who'd be there for you, anytime."
"I do have someone who'd be there for me when I die." Angie's words confused Martha.
"But you said you have no one in your life..."
"Yeah. Not in my life. Guess it would take me dying, for them to realize they had finally lost me."
"Is that the same person who has been reaching out to you?"
"Yup."
"Same one who makes it home, wherever you are?"
"Mhm."
"Same one whom you'd rather stay home with, then go out and meet new friends, people your age?"
Angie bit her bottom lip.
"Why do you hold so much resentment towards her?" Martha sacrificed herself and pushed another 'her' in the question.
She had figured it out, it was a very stereotypical case, but Angela was in complete denial about it if she wasn't even willing to put a gender to the person they were discussing.
"I don't. I love...Monkey. That's the problem." Angie was smart enough to always avoid gender, when talking about that person. She would continue avoiding it until it would blow up in her face. If she could help it, she'd never utter a 'she' or a 'he' in a sentence that concerned the culprit.
"Again. Why?"
"Because they hurt me. Twice. And I felt like I was dead. I don't ever want to feel like that again! I've spent my life, being strong. Surviving. Providing for myself. Teaching myself to overcome any obstacle. And they…they came along and ruined it. They made me weak. They made me…" Angie then decided to stop. It was obvious what she was trying to communicate.
Martha chose her next words wisely.
"Sometimes in life, we get hurt even by the people who love us the most. It's their actions that sometimes hurt us, even if they didn't mean to. But then it is up to us to decide whether we let them back into our lives or not."
"Cool. I've decided not to do so."
"However…" Martha did not allow Angie to utter one more dumb thing.
"We need to see things through their eyes, put ourselves in their shoes." She added. "You know, I once spoke to someone with the exact opposite problem. She was the one to have hurt someone else."
"Oh?" Angie perked up, looking at the woman curiously. "How did she get over it? Did you figure out why she did it?"
"Yes, I knew why she did it. She never figured it out for herself, though. It was years ago when we spoke and she never got over it. So, if it is any comfort for you, it is not exactly easy to be on the other side of hurt. Just because Monkey hurt you, it doesn't mean that she didn't hurt herself, as well. What do you know? Maybe she's hurting more than you are."
"I doubt that."
"Why?"
"They're happy, smiling, with a new family now. I feel like I'm just a commodity – when I'm around, I'm wanted. When I'm gone, who cares about me?"
Martha let out a scoff, subconsciously.
"I'm sorry, did you find any of this entertaining?" Angie said, taking some offence.
"No. I'm just trying to picture the person who wouldn't want to have you in their life. Like, how does that work?" Martha said smartly.
"A lot of people dislike me. I'm okay with that. I'm only human."
"Maybe if you stopped with the act and started showing people who you really are, more people would like you, huh?"
Angie had heard enough about her so-called act. She wanted people to stop calling her out on it, so she could keep on living in sweet denial.
"Look, I don't know your situation. I barely even know you, but from I can tell – and I'm an extraordinary judge of character, you are a sweet, smart girl. I think you're being a little immature with the way you are handling this, though." Martha spoke slowly, hoping she wouldn't offend the girl.
"I'm being cautious. It's different."
"You are closing yourself off from the possibility of having something, someone you love. And a home. Just because they might hurt you again."
"Exactly!" Angela confirmed and, a second later, realized how lame that plan sounded.
"Alright, I admit, it's not ideal. But I don't know how to deal with it in any other way. I want to, but I just don't know how." Angie added.
"Well, give them a chance, maybe?"
"Mmh, I'm open to other suggestions…"
Martha gave her a stern look.
"Can you try to see the good in them? Next time you are around that person, try to remember all the good. See if you can catch yourself smiling around them. See how they make you feel. Because it is easy to ignore someone's letters, but it's hard to ignore how you feel when they are right there, in front of you. It's easy to act out and pretend to hate them, shut them off or reply rudely. But it's hard to not make them see right through you. And if that other person is smart-…"
"So incredibly smart!" Angie butted in.
"See? Then they're going to see the way you feel about them, no matter what you do. If you push them away, they'd know what you really want from them. If you let them in, they'd know. Either way, they would know. People are much better at analyzing and profiling behavior than you think."
"Oh, I have no doubt Monkey is just great at it…" Angie rolled her eyes real quick.
"Now, before we wrap this up, I'm giving you a little task, okay? I want you to see them, in person. You don't have to talk to them. Just look at them and see how it makes you feel."
"Wait, are we done already? Are you screwing me out of minutes? There is no way this was a whole hour!" Angie crossed her hands in front of her chest, this time not in her defense, but as a sign of disapproval, even disappointment maybe. She had waited a week for this and now it was over. "Can we change the task? Can I try to substitute that person with someone else?"
"No, Angela. It is not possible to substitute the people you love."
"Okay, so can I maybe look at them and pretend like they're someone else? Like, I'll give them a different name…but it will be the same person." She bargained.
"No matter what names you give someone, they will always be the same person. They are like winter coats – you can put a different one every single day, but underneath it you are just you, no more, no less. Remember that. Now, do as you wish, but unless you do something about it, you'll never figure out why this hurts so much…" Martha trailed off, pointing a finger at Angie's chest.
"I think I'll start by spying on them in the dark and pretending like they're someone else." Somehow that made a lot of sense to Angie, so she chose to say it out loud.
"That is just creepy." Martha laughed. "And, God, you're so opinionated. Lately everyone is making me work hard for my money!" Martha laughed, remembering an agent she had spoken to, just a few days ago. Angela and that Agent were like two peas in a pod.
"May I give you a piece of advice?" Martha asked permission since, as her therapist, she was not supposed to advise. She was supposed to help Angela decide for herself, what her best choices were.
"Decide on one thing. If you want them in your life – hold onto that olive branch they've extended. If you want them gone, let them know. But don't leave them waiting - that only makes them go through more pain." She then said, after Angie had nodded, wanting the advice.
After hearing those words, she knew exactly what she wanted to do. It was all so clear to her now. Or at the very least, it sure felt that way.
Once again, Angie walked straight to the reception desk, asking for Martha's next free hour.
Therapy wasn't all that bad.
In fact, it was actually kind of good.
That evening Angie was beyond tired. Theory classes, two different trainings, one therapy session and almost no food at all, had led her to feel exhausted, but she had something on her mind and she knew she needed to do it right away, or she might end up never doing it at all.
She grabbed her small portable reading lamp and a book, so that Bryan would think this was just one of her usual outdoor reading sessions, and she left the dorms. Ten minutes later she was making herself comfortable, placing a blanket on the grass, near the fountain, laying down and switching the lamp on. It was dark outside, it was quite late in the evening, so there wasn't a single soul out by the fountain. Angie knew this would be the best place to do this, to finally put an end to her pain.
She opened the book, only to grab the few pieces of paper that she had hidden between the pages. She laid them down, using the book as something hard, to write on top of. Inside her pocket there were three different pens, just in case one would malfunction. She was set on doing this and she could not wait. Maybe then she would feel a little less angry at this person who, she had started to refer to as 'Monkey'.
Her eyes scanned her surroundings and everything was so peaceful. All she could hear was the water from the fountain falling down. It was one of the very few sounds in life that calmed Angela down, no matter what was going on in her life. The other thing was Monkey's voice, their touch, their warmth.
Something inside of her was hurting. Doing this would really be the end of a very important chapter in her life – the end of her and Monkey. Did she really want to do this? It might be irreversible.
Martha had told Angela to make a decision: keep this person in her life or let them go. After that decision was taken, she had to let this person know. At the time, it had sounded perfectly reasonable. However, finding herself speechless, in front of blank pieces of paper and three fully functioning blue ink pens, Angie realized how incredibly hard this was. What if that decision altered her entire life? And then again – what did she have to lose? Surely there would be no gain, but maybe unloading her emotional pain on a piece of paper, or five, would be therapeutic.
Also, Monkey was the one who had decided to make contact via letters. Angie had received two care packages from the same person, with a heartbreaking letter inside of each. She couldn't possibly care less about the expensive things she had been gifted, but she cared a lot about those letters. They also confused her. At times she felt wanted, like maybe Monkey was reaching out and slowly testing to see where they stand with Angela. Other times she thought those letters were selfish and that Monkey had no right wanting anything to do with someone they had failed, twice.
"Just start writing or you'll go insane!" Angie commanded herself in a whisper.
She then thought long and hard about the structure of the letter. She was somewhat of a perfectionist, in certain occasions, so she wanted this letter to be amazing – structured, with beginning, a middle part and an eloquent ending.
The perfect letter - in her mind that was the equivalent of the perfect way to handle her situation.
As soon as the pen hit the paper, she realized it was not.
"Okay, fine. No structure. There, lowering my pressure levels before I snap and destroy a bench or two." She hissed at herself quietly, deciding to just go with the flow.
"Now, I'll just put it down with the first words that come to my mind. Okay? Sounds good…right?" She rolled her eyes at the silly way she was now having a conversation with herself.
"What comes to mind, I write down and there will be no editing. Monkey is smart enough to figure it out, in case something isn't too clear. Then again, I don't care. I'm doing this for me. Heck, I should write it in Turkish, just to be sure the bitch won't know what I'm going on about." Angie grinned devilishly, but discarded that idea quickly.
"Also, nobody says I should actually send this out, right? I mean, writing down your feelings is good enough, to make you feel better. Isn't that what shrinks tell their patients, they tell them to keep a diary. So, maybe I should just write this thing and then tear it into pieces and go set a fire at a secluded location and just throw it in and watch it burn slowly…"
Angie took a breath, realizing her thoughts were taking her to a dark place – destroying benches, burning things…these were not positive thoughts, connected to the healing process that she desired.
"Ok, here we go…" She placed the pen on the paper for the second time, but it stood immobile. It didn't write a thing.
"Damn it!" Her free hand hit the ground in a fist. It kind of hurt, but she wasn't new to physical pain. In fact, that kind of pain she was perfectly able to endure. It was the emotional kind that was screwing her up ever since she stepped foot in the Academy.
"This is not how I imagined it would be…" She told herself.
"I thought we would…I don't know…talk? Maybe go grab a coffee? I thought you'd want to see me, but you seem to be scared of me. And, yeah, fine, I get it…after what you did to me, I suppose I get how you might be afraid of approaching me. But you should have at least tried. I didn't deserve a letter. How can I ever tell you what I feel?" She kept thinking, quickly switching from having a conversation with herself, to actually speaking to Monkey, in her mind.
"Oh, I liked this…" She stopped and thought about her previous few sentences. They had been open, honest, directed to Monkey and unedited. This was exactly the approach she wanted, for her letter. It was one more reason for her to just start writing and let whatever her soul would want to share, turn into text. It sounded perfect, personal, emotional, real, raw. This was surely the way to go.
Angie put on her earphones and played a song on repeat while she busied herself writing. It was a song that perfectly described how she felt about Monkey, at this point in her life. It was a song that put her in the mood to not hold back.
An hour later she found herself short out of breath, leaning over a few pieces of paper, a chaotic letter with no beginning, no end, no real point and not too informative, either. It was perfect! It was exactly what could represent her mood. It was a work of art. It was a huge mess, one that would sound like gibberish to anyone who would read it. Anyone but Monkey.
She set the papers aside and let her eyes look at the windows of the main building with curiosity. She had a million questions, running through her mind, at that moment.
What's it like to work there?
How many people were still inside, so late at night?
What was the time anyway?
If the coast was clear, could she maybe get away with stealing a few cookies from the Lounge on the second floor?
Were there cookies left there, in the evening?
Did the cleaning staff do the cleaning late at night or early in the morning?
How many desks would there be, inside that building?
Was she even going to have the courage to send that letter?
She sighed when her own thoughts brought her back to the reality, the letter. It was rough and it wasn't the most flattering thing in the world, but she had always been straight forward with Monkey and Angela, as weird as she might have been, was a person with integrity. She would tell Monkey the unfiltered truth, even if it would hurt. It was part of what made her relationship with Monkey so special – they had always been honest with each other. Well, except for those two times when Monkey had dumped her like trash and moved on with their life, without Angela in it.
"Damn it!" Angela hissed out loud.
Whenever she thought about Monkey, inevitably she always came to the conclusion that no matter the great times they've had, the pain was too big for her to forgive and forget. Not this time. She had to put herself first now. Monkey had to be replaced with someone else. Angela had to look at someone and pretend like they were a completely different person. A stranger. She was only willing to move on and let someone get to know her now, if that someone was not Monkey.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
"rmpcmfan" Oh, Emily is slowly getting better and she doesn't even know it. I have a feeling Emily is secretly very fond of Lauren, but she is afraid to admit it, because Lauren was "bad". That's kind of how she felt about Ian Doyle - drawn to him, as something forbidden, but something she really ended up wanting, not just because she was assigned to him :P You'll be seeing lots of Emily putting the team first, it actually is a pretty big thing later on, a deal breaker of sorts. Also, your line about "healing them heals her too" gave me maximum chills, as it is EXACTLY what I've written in one of the next chapters, months ago! I haven't even posted it yet and you quoted it basically word-by-word, wow! Upcoming conversations between JJ and Emily, don't you worry about it *wink* those two know how to end up opening up to each other. PS: When did you know/suspect Richard was talking to an AI machine, instead of a human? I'm curious to know!
"Spooladio" Yeah, Emily accepts Lauren more than she consciously realizes. Don't worry, Emily and JJ have a way of ending up pouring out their feelings to each other, so I can only say you will NOT be disappointed by what is going to happen next. JJ knows better than to confront Emily straightforward and Emily knows better than to continue living in denial, if it keeps on hurting this much. I wanted that conversation to be special and to come in a "cute" way, so I tried to build up for that with what comes up next. JJ is scared to ask Emily about the letter, but Emily is terrified of admitting about it, as it would make it so officially real and she is still trying to work out how she feels about it and him. But yeah, if she ever speaks to someone, I don't think there is a better one than JJ :P Sure, Emily told Morgan, but that was NOT for advice, it was just an emotional downpour, mere days after her heartbreak. Ems now needs advice, she needs the opinion of someone who knows her better than she knows herself, someone who wants to see her happy, someone who understands from a female point of view. As for Martha, she knows a few of Emily's secrets, so it's easier for her to "read" Emily now. Martha also knows WHY Emily feels so confused and bad, but she won't say it out loud until Emily embraces it and admits to it. As you would have just read in this chapter 91, Martha managed to get through to Angie, in ways other people never would have managed to. I suppose Martha deserves a raise hehe! LOL, I'm glad you laughed at Richard's plot! At what point did you know/suspect he was talking to an AI machine? I'm curious to know! Poor Richard, he is so smitten by Lauren and nothing seems to be helping him relax and stop thinking about her. Yet, he refuses to move on.
"sweetkid45" Oh, nooo, I won't kill him off! I just wanted to use Will for some drama for JJ, so someone could have drama hehe.
