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sequinsmile-x · 1 year

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Driving Home for Christmas - Chapter 2

Emily and Aaron's first Christmas together.

A Christmas fic, set in The Way Home universe

Rating: M

Warnings: Smut in this chapter!

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily wakes up to the door to their bedroom bursting open and the light switches on seconds before an excited voice fills the room.

“Daddy, Emily, it’s Christmas!”

She opens her eyes just as Jack lands on the bed, hitting it with such ferocity she’s surprised he doesn’t bounce back off of it. She laughs as she hears her boyfriend groan next to her, his son’s love of an early morning rivalling even his, and they both sit up as they come face to face with a very excitable 6-year-old.

“Morning Jack, Merry Christmas!” Emily says opening her arms out to him, and smiling when he crawls into her embrace, snuggling against her.

“Merry Christmas, buddy,” Aaron says, reaching over and ruffling his son’s hair, “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t wake us up before 5 am.”

“I didn’t,” he says, pointing at the digital clock on Aaron’s nightstand, “The clock said 5.”

Aaron and Emily look at the clock and smile as they see it says 05:01 am, and Emily chuckles as her boyfriend sighs.

“He’s right, honey, he did wait,” Emily says, smirking as she gets out of bed, well aware that Aaron’s slow start this morning was because she’d kept him up so late, “Come on Jack,” she says, turning so she’s got her back facing him, laughing as he latches on to her, his arms around her shoulders and his legs around her waist, “Let’s go, I’ll make Daddy some coffee, and you can tell me where we keep everything for the pancakes.”

She carries him out of the room, ensuring she’s got a good hold on him as she gives him a piggyback.

“Silly Emmy, you know where it is!” He says, giggling. The excitement that only a child felt at Christmas flowing off of him.

It was strange to think that this time last year she spent Christmas with her mother, just the two of them in too empty of a house, and now she was here. In the apartment she shared with the man she loved, spending the morning with his son before Haley came to pick him up.

“I don’t,” she replies, feigning ignorance in a way she knows he enjoys, “I never make the pancakes.”

“That’s because Daddy said he’d have to call 911,” Jack says as she places him down in the kitchen, and he’s smiling up at her.

“Exactly,” she replies, ruffling his hair, “Now, you get the things out of the pantry, and I’ll make coffee. Do you want juice?”

Jack nods enthusiastically before he opens the door to the pantry, carefully picking up the bag of flour.

Emily smiles as she starts the coffee machine, and she can’t help but wonder if this will end up being her first ever family Christmas.

___

Emily opens the door as soon as she hears the knock, and smiles at the woman on the other side, “Haley, hi,” she says, stepping back to let her in, “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas,” Haley replies, “I hope Jack didn’t wake you up too early.”

Emily chuckles as she turns around and heads towards the kitchen, “He was in with us at 5 am,” she says, lifting up her mug of coffee with a smile, “Aaron is just helping him get everything together.”

“Great,” Haley says, leaning against the kitchen counter, “Aaron said you were at your mother’s a few days ago, how was that?”

“It was…something,” Emily replies diplomatically, “Thankfully there was plenty of champagne.”

Haley laughs, before clearing her throat, her expression becoming more serious, “Did she mention the trial at all? I know you said you weren’t sure if she was coming or not.”

Emily’s smile falters slightly and she takes a sip of her coffee, allowing herself a moment to ground herself. Haley was a witness for the prosecution having been the person to interrupt Ian’s attempt on Emily’s life, something she was sure she’d never feel like she’d stop owing the other woman for.

“No, we don’t really talk about that kind of thing,” Emily says, looking down at the cup in her grasp. She jumps slightly, still prone to doing so at unexpected touch even all these months later, when Haley lays a hand on her arm. Emily looks up and sees almost unbearable kindness in the other woman’s eyes.

“Emily, do you have anyone you can talk to about this kind of thing?”

She laughs humourlessly, “Aaron?” She offers, and Haley raises her eyebrow, a silent indicator that told her what she knew - she needed more than her boyfriend, “Not really,” she admits, smiling tightly, “Penelope gets too upset, and I…don’t want to upset her.”

She can hear Jack and Aaron laughing, the sound filtering through the apartment from the young boy's bedroom.

“You can always talk to me, you know that right?” Haley offers, her smile genuine.

Emily scrunches up her nose, “Isn’t that…weird?” She asks, shrugging slightly, “I’m your ex’s girlfriend.”

Haley laughs, and nods, “In any other circumstances maybe. But you’re my ex-boyfriend’s girlfriend who I happened to save from being killed by her ex-boyfriend, I don’t think there’s a manual for how we are supposed to handle this.”

Emily laughs, the sound catching in her chest in something a little too close to a sob, and she nods, “Maybe when we figure it out, we could write it.”

Haley smiles, her hand grasping Emily’s arm a tiny bit tighter, “Yes, maybe we should. I mean it Emily, I know we didn’t have the best of starts, but you can talk to me,” her smile widens, “No man, even Aaron Hotchner, is worth not being friends over.”

Emily laughs properly this time, loud and beaming as Aaron and Jack walk into the room. Jack runs over to Haley, his arms wide.

“Mommy!”

“Hi sweetie,” she says, stepping away from Emily to scoop him up into her arms, “I missed you. Merry Christmas, baby.”

“Merry Christmas!”

“Do I want to know what you were laughing at?” Aaron asks, putting Jack’s bags down next to Haley before stepping over to Emily, and wrapping his arm around her waist.

“Probably not,” Haley replies, winking at Emily, laughing when Aaron frowns slightly, “I should get going, my dad hates it when we’re late.”

They exchange goodbyes, Jack giving both Emily and Aaron big hugs before he’s led out of the apartment by his mother. Once the door is closed Aaron turns to look at his girlfriend, not missing the way her eyes were shining, and he can’t help but wonder what he had walked in on the tail end of.

“Em,” he says, walking over and pulling her into a hug, trying not to overthink about how quickly she leans into it, seeking out affection she hadn’t seemed to need only minutes before, “Are you ok?”

She nods against his chest, “I’m ok, I promise,” she pulls back and smiles up at him, “Haley was just being nice.”

Aaron knows that's all he’ll get for now, that she’ll tell him more when she’s ready, and he accepts it, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

“I have something else for you,” he says, purposely changing the conversation in a way she’s grateful for.

She sighs, a wry smile on her face. “Aaron, you’ve already got me enough.”

“I can never get you enough,” he says, turning her in his arms. Emily sighs as Aaron places his hand over her eyes, suppressing a smile as she leans back into him.

“Is this really necessary?”

“Yes,” he replies, leaning down to kiss the top of her head before he starts to lead her through their apartment, his other arm wrapped around her waist, “You’re worse than Jack when it comes to this kind of thing.”

“What kind of thing?” She chuckles, her hand on his arm as he continues to walk them away from the living room, “You told me you had something to show me and now apparently I have to walk through our apartment essentially blindfolded,” she grumbles, “Is this a sex thing? Because if it is, you know I’m-”

“Emily, it is not a sex thing, it’s a Christmas gift-”

“Sex can be a Christmas gift-”

“Just be patient for one minute,” he laughs, he stops walking and opens the door to the third bedroom, a room they had turned into a shared office.

There was a desk in there that he used for work, and the couch from her old place up against the wall that she laid on whilst she was studying, contorting her body into all sorts of positions as she worked that made him sore just looking at her. She was the one who had pushed for the slightly bigger apartment, saying she could more than afford the gap in the rent he’d been worried about, and he was grateful he’d relented. It felt like a proper home, a first for her, and he knew he’d miss it when they moved back to DC.

He flips on the light and smiles before he takes his hand away from her eyes, feeling a stab of insecurity as she opens her eyes, suddenly unsure of what he’d done.

Emily blinks against the bright light of their office, and smiles when she sees the new addition to the decor. There were now two framed posters on the wall. One was the Beatles, and the other was Siouxsie and the Banshees, her favourite album cover staring back at her.

“Aaron…” she chuckles, turning to look at him, “What is this?”

“You said you never got a chance to hang one up when you were younger, and I realised I didn’t either,” he says, shrugging it off as if it was nothing.

“So you did this?” She asks, her voice full of awe as she stared back at the posters, a simple thing but an action so full of love that she is sure she could burst from it.

“Yes,” he replies, feeling relieved at her reaction so far, wrapping his arm around her as she leans into his side, “Although I put them in here instead of our bedroom because I didn’t want it to feel like they were watching us have sex.”

She laughs, loud and bright and she shakes his head at him, “Right, because we never have sex in here,” she turns so she’s chest to chest with him, biting her lower lip as she looks up at him, “Thank you, this is…” she looks at the posters again, swallowing down the emotion that she would have called ridiculous before he made her realise they were ok to feel, “This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

He kisses her cheek, and she moves so she can kiss him. It’s slow, both of them allowing themselves to feel every moment of it, to bask in the feeling of being so entirely loved by someone. He grasps her hip and pulls her closer, and she smiles at him as he pulls back, his forehead against hers.

“Bed?” He asks, pulling her impossibly closer, his hand drifting up the back of her shirt.

“What? You don’t want to give John, Paul, George and Ringo a show?”

“Emily.”

___

She convinces him to go out on New Year's Eve. The combination of a very tight black dress, and the fact she was naked when she asked him, was enough to talk him into it.

It’s their anniversary, and she can’t believe it’s only been a year. That they’d gone from neighbours who were harbouring secret feelings for each other to living together. Everything they’d been through in the interim, something she was sure would break them at some point, something she’d shattered herself, somehow only making them stronger.

She pulls him into the middle of the dance floor, unable to stop smiling at the way he holds her closer anytime anyone looks at her a little too long. As if anything could ever take her from him.

She smiles at him as the crowd counts down to midnight, the last seconds of the year fading into nothing as if it hadn’t been both the best and worst year of her life. She loops her arms around his neck, and he presses his hand into her lower back, firm but tender as he holds her closer. He presses his forehead into hers and she thinks her face might split open from how wide her smile is, her cheeks aching with it.

“3,2,1…Happy New Year!”

For a moment, everything else around them disappears, and it’s just them as he leans in to kiss her. It reminds her of their first kiss, desperate and full of everything they hadn’t been able to say then, but it’s also familiar. Something they had exchanged countless times since they got together, and she hoped they’d share forever. Her hands slide to cup his face, holding him in place as she steps up onto her tip-toes, deepening the kiss. Aaron’s arms band around her back, holding her tight enough that he all but lifts her off of the floor. She moans into the kiss, and pulls back when breathing becomes a necessity, but stays close, her nose pressing into his cheek.

“I love you,” she says, stamping another kiss to his lips.

“I love you too,” he replies, “So much.” She beams and leans in to kiss him again, but someone bumps into her and they stumble a little, laughing as Aaron stops them from falling over, waving off the unnecessary apology from the drunk woman who’d almost made them lose their balance. Aaron smiles at Emily and kisses the corner of her mouth, pulling back before she can deepen it, “Let’s get out of here.”

___

He’s on her the moment their front door closes behind them, his arms around her as he presses her into it, surrounding her completely.

She welcomes it, wanting nothing more than to be overwhelmed by him, to start the year as she intends to spend it - basking in his love. She sighs into the kiss, her fingers tight in his hair as she holds him close as if he wanted to pull away, to be anywhere else. His hands are everywhere, trailing down from her waist to her ass, pulling her closer as he tastes the groan she lets out when he rocks her hips into hers.

Emily isn’t idle. She pushes his jacket down off his shoulders, and he lets go of her just long enough for it to hit the ground, and then he lifts her, the dress that had been driving him crazy all night riding up as she wraps her legs around him.

“Fuck, Em,” he mutters, pulling away from the kiss to trail his lips down her neck, nipping at her collarbone as he passes it, smirking against her skin as she shivers. Her arms tighten around his neck as she holds him in place, her blunt nails against his scalp as she desperately tries to regain some control.

It was frustrating at times, that he could make her feel like this without even touching her that much. It was something he used against her, taking pleasure in the fact he could so easily take her to pieces. Her only solace was that she knew she had the same effect on him, that she could reduce him to a needy mess with little more than a look and a touch in just the right place. She loved to do it to him when he was getting ready for work. All sensible and serious in his suits in a way she felt compelled to mess with, walking around their apartment in nothing but one of his shirts as she prepared for a day of studying, pretending she didn’t know what his problem was as he swallowed thickly at the sight of her.

He bites at her neck in a way she knows will leave a mark as he hoists her up a little more, making sure she’s secure in his hold as he moves away from the door. He carries her to the kitchen counter, depositing her on it as she undoes the top view buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against hers.

He runs his hands up her thighs, pushing her dress up as he does so it’s bunched around her hips. He groans and rests his forehead against her shoulder, pushing the material there out of the way, his fingers leaving goosebumps as he goes.

“No underwear?” He mumbles against her skin, one of his hands pushing her thighs apart, his fingers skirting around where she wanted to be touched the most. He pulls away and smiles at her as her hips move involuntarily, chasing his touch as he purposely avoids her, his touch ghosting her inner thighs.

“For ease of access,” she replies, whining when he shifts his hand again, “In case you wanted to fuck me in that bar.”

Aaron grins, leaning in to kiss her fiercely, his tongue sweeping through her mouth, “That would have been fun,” he mutters against her lips, “But I’d rather fuck you here,” he says, his fingers finally where she wants him, his fingers circling her clit, “In our home.”

“Aaron,” she groans, seeking out more from him, “Please.”

It’s all it takes for him to concede as he pushes his finger into her. She presses her forehead into his shoulder, moaning as he takes her apart. Twice. Methodically as if he had written the manual on how to do it. All she can do is hold onto him, her hands tight in the back of his shirt as she tips over the edge. As soon as her mind clears she kisses him, her hands almost fumbling at his belt as she undoes it, nipping at his lower lip in retribution as he chuckles at her. He helps her lower his pants, his boxers following quickly. It’s her turn to laugh as he lets out a punched-out groan as she grasps him.

He pulls her forward so she’s sitting on the edge of the counter, grabbing one of her legs so it’s wrapped around his waist. He kisses her as he presses into her, his forehead against hers as they both groan.

“Em, so good,” he mutters, thrusting against her, “You feel so good.”

“You too,” she replies, groaning, grasping his hair as she clenches around him, “Fuck, Aaron.”

They find their rhythm easily, holding onto each other tightly, mumbled words of love and affection lost against each other's skin. She remembers their first time, how he’d made her feel like they’d been doing this forever, but this was infinitely better. They’d survived a lot together already, gone through more in their first year together than most people did in a lifetime, and it made her love him more. Love this more.

They tip over the edge together, holding each other impossibly tighter as they do so, leaving marks on each other that they know will take days to fade away. He pulls back just enough to look at her once his breathing slows down, and he smiles, pushing her hair from her face as he kisses her, slow and lazy as their heart rates return to normal.

“I love you,” he mumbles, repeating the words again and again as he stamps quick kisses against her lips, hoping if he said it enough it would come close to expressing how he felt about her. The words seemingly never enough on their own.

“I know,” she replies, sensing his desperation, as she lets him shower her with affection, “I know you do, I love you too.”

It’s absurd, but she lets herself get caught up in the moment, in him, and thinks that maybe they’ve survived the worst life could throw at them.

____

December 2006

Emily wakes up to the mattress shifting, a sudden sharp, movement that shocks her awake and could only mean one thing.

“Mommy, Daddy, it’s Christmas!”

Emily groans as she rolls over, as Aaron sits up next to her and turns on the light. She comes face to face with her five-year-old daughter, unable to stop herself from smiling at the excitement shining in the little girl's dark eyes.

“Ellie, sweetie,” she says, lifting up the comforter so Eleanor could sneak under, immediately cuddling up to her, “It’s so early.”

“I waited until the clock said 5 like you said,” she explains, her words all merging into one through her excitement, so palpable Emily was sure her daughter was vibrating with it.

“She’s right, sweetheart,” Aaron says around a yawn, smiling down at the sight of his girls together, “she did wait.”

Emily grumbles slightly, kissing her daughter's head, “Maybe we should start saying 6 am instead.”

Aaron laughs at her and leans down to kiss her, “You know she’d never let us sleep that long.”

“Aunt Haley and Jack coming over?” Eleanor asks, smiling up at her father, gratefully shifting into his arms as he opens them up to her.

“Yes, princess, they are coming in a couple of hours,” He stands up, easily lifting her onto his hip, “Why don’t we go start breakfast whilst Mommy wakes up?”

Eleanor nods enthusiastically, talking excitedly at her father as he throws his wife a wink before he turns and heads out of the room.

Emily stretches as she sits up, yawning as she stands. She pulls on Aaron’s robe, comforted by the warmth it provided, and the scent of him all over it. She smiles at the sound of her daughter giggling downstairs, and the gentle timber of her husband’s voice as he replies to her. She walks out of the bedroom and prepares herself for another family Christmas, something that had become the norm for her since she’d built one with Aaron.

The following year, she looks back on herself with envy. Jealous of this version of her and the things she had not yet endured.

-x-

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theafterofnevermore · 2 years

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Ok so I have this idea for Criminal Minds that I randomly thought about. I know people have probably thought of this idea and there are probably fanfics of this idea or something similar either way I felt I had to share it before I wrote it. This is just gonna be a rough summary.

Spoilers if you’ve never seen the show/ or from season 5 onward.

After Haley is killed, Hotch needs help with taking care of Jack while he is on cases (I know Haley had family that helped but just go with it). Enter the character I’m going to create! So my character(MC for now) will most likely be college age or maybe just newly turned 18. Anyway, she babysits Jack while Hotch is off on cases and things like that and MC manages to get Hotch to warm up to her almost like she’s part of the family (and yes, he had Penelope do an extreme background check on her) All of the sudden, Will breaks up with JJ, leaving her all alone with Henry and no way to continue being a BAU agent. Well Hotch immediately suggests MC to be Henry’s babysitter as well. JJ agrees and from then on, MC watched the boys while their parents are away. Flash forward a bit and the BAU is on a case close to home where the unsub is going on a killing spree of young girls. Both Hotch and JJ keep telling MC to be careful because the Unsub keeps sending warning to the BAU to stop looking for them.

Now the next part I am gonna go two ways. The first one is that the police and BAU get a 911 call about an abduction that recently happened that left witnesses (meaning the unsub escalated from just killing them to now abducting) they’re shocked and horrified to find out that the witnesses are Jack and Henry and that the Unsub took MC, leaving a note with the words ‘I warned you’. Obviously MC is gonna go through it while JJ and Hotch worry about someone they’ve become very fond of and the team is concerned by default and because the Unsub hasn’t done this before. The Unsub will most likely stream or send a video of what they’re doing to MC. The BAU are gonna find them, stop them and save MC along with the recovery.

The second idea I could do is have a small time jump to little bit later and the Unsub starts streaming a video live to which Penelope gets the notification for, cut to the team and suddenly Jack and Henry are escorted in, crying and upset. They tell the team that they had been at the park that day, about to leave when the Unsub showed up and threatened MC and them. The boys then tell the BAU that MC shoved the Unsub and told the boys to run while she tried to fight the Unsub. Before they knew it, the boys were found by a police officer who immediately escorted them to where the team is. Cut again yo Penelope running in, telling the team that the Unsub is streaming a video of MC. Again, MC obviously goes through it, everyone worries before they eventually find where MC is, save her and help her recover.

Nothing is really set in stone, it’s just an idea of how Criminal minds could of played out and I will probably write a fic about it, using this. There are somethings that would have to be explained further or the timeline changed around, but it’s pretty much a rough outline of something.

Also, I’m watching NCIS as I’m typing this up and I looked up to see the actress who played Haley. I had to check what I was watching for a second lol anyway.

Thanks for coming to my Ted talk at 3:26 am on May 1st 2022. 😂😂

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leedongwook · 2 years

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i wonder if buck sent a christmas postcard to maddie this year, just like he always did when they had no contact? 😭😭 if he doesn't know her current address, maybe he still prepares one just so he can give it to her as soon as she's back 😭😭😭

awwwwww 😭 maybe he really did write one and sent it to her address, so she can find it and read it when she comes back? I would have loved for Maddie to send one to Buck, to make him smile. I hope she at least messaged or phoned him. Buck really misses her :(

#userseiko #ask #reply #personal #haleys 911 thoughts #911 ask

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masterwords · 3 years

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Undone

Notes: Fucking with Hotch's heart again. He collapses while he's out with Jack and things are not good. (But Jess is here, and she injects humor. It's not all doom and gloom.)

Warnings: grief, heart problems, hospital

Pairings: None

Words: ~3500

The baseball diamond isn't fancy. There is a fancier one down a few blocks, all brand new, fenced off, springy state of the art turf that bounces beneath your steps. He and Jack like this one though, it's dusty, the bags at first and third base are ripped up and second base is missing so Aaron marks the spot with a pile of grass and leaves, hopes the wind doesn't carry his makeshift base away. It makes him feel like Kevin Costner, no cornfields around but this is still their little field of dreams. Jack never asks to go play on the slide across the field, he's content right here. The sun beats down on them from overhead, there's a cool breeze, not very persistent, just enough to rustle the hairs on the back of your neck as sweat finds its way down into your shirt. He's smiling, Jack hasn't missed a catch yet and his throws are almost accurate. One or two steps to the side is all it takes to get the ball into his glove, a vast improvement on years past when he thought he was playing fetch instead of catch. Better coordinated than he ever was as a child he's constantly amazed at Jack's athleticism. Wishes he had even an ounce of that natural talent.

“Daddy! Hit the ball to me!” he cries, and runs to the outfield, kicking dust with his brand new sneakers as he dashes toward the grass. Aaron drops his glove at his feet and picks up the bat, throws the ball into the air and swings. The crack when it connects is satisfying and he watches the ball sail out toward Jack, watches the boy run to field the ball and toss it back. They would do this for hours, all day if Jack had his way. He would never stop running. The first time Aaron feels the beating of his heart up in his throat it gives him pause, he smacks the ball into the outfield again. The next time it's more than an errant gulping beat, he feels it behind his ears, a rush of blood and a sudden heaviness in his chest. His head swims and he waves Jack over, asks him to grab a bottle of water from their bag over on the bench while he makes his way toward the grass to take a seat. He doesn't feel good but he's not going to pass out on the dusty pitcher's mound if he can help it.

Jack brings the whole bag over, he knows something is wrong and really just doesn't want to be sent back and forth between his dad and the bag endlessly. Everything they brought is inside, better just to have it. The dry grass pokes the backs of his legs, and he feels a shiver run up his spine, he's suddenly cold and his vision blurs. “Jack, daddy needs his phone...” he says softly, hand shooting out expectantly. By the time its in his hand he's sure he needs to call 911, his head is swimming and he's about to pass out in the middle of a public park with only Jack. It's his worst nightmare, the thing that has kept him up at night since Haley passed. In another life maybe he would have called someone from the team, they're in Derek's neighborhood, after all. JJ would have dropped everything to care for Jack, at least, but he can't ask that of her. Not now. He can't ask any of them. Things have changed irreparably since Emily's death, since she came back and left again. Too much pain, too many grieving hearts unable to really move past the betrayal, and he's on the outside now. They say it's just that things are busy, life is busy, and it's okay, life is busy. But it's also hard, and he's alone in a way he never was before. Set apart because he broke their trust, no matter how good his intentions were.

So he calls 911 and he asks for help from a stranger.

“Jack...” he whispers, reaching for the boy with the terror in his eyes. “I'm not feeling very good. There is help coming, please just...sit down with me?”

He hates asking Jack for something like this, he's not a baby anymore but he doesn't deserve this life. He could tell Jack to go play, not to watch him as his heart threatens to give out right there on their favorite field but the thought of being alone in his last moments is too big, too scary and he's selfish. The 911 operator wants him to stay on the line so he can't call Jess, he'll ask them to call her, dial her number while he's put on the stretcher, he's resigned to making it that far. He lies back when instructed, reclining in a safe position to avoid falling and stares up at the sky, watches long stringy clouds slither by. Beside him Jack is picking listlessly at the dry grass, sprinkling it onto the side of his shoe where it curves to follow his arch, watching it settle between the canvas and rubber. There are ants on his fingertips and Aaron can feel them on his neck, tiny sugar ants, just little pinprick creatures checking out the new terrain suddenly bestowed upon them from above. He would wipe them away, move maybe if he could but his hands are cramping and his legs feel like lead. He's losing his grip fast, blinking slowly, it's getting harder to pull his lids open again each time. The operator is still talking in his ear when the EMTs come rushing up with their gurney and he pushes his phone to Jack, tells him to call Jess with the last burst of strength he's got, the last show before they're lifting him upright, walking him toward the gurney. Jack thinks he looks oddly compliant, limp like an over sized puppet, his legs drag more than step but they've got him and he pulls his legs up onto the gurney himself, using every last reserve of power in him. It's a show for Jack, something to ease his mind – see buddy? I'm okay, he thinks offering Jack a weak smile as they're pushing him into the ambulance. They've got to hook him up to all sorts of monitors, stabilize him and they ask Jack to sit up front, promise he can be in charge of the sirens, distract him from the goings on in the back. Distract him from the fact that his father's eyes have closed and they're not opening again very quickly, he's losing his grip.

“How old is he?” the EMT asks, and Aaron opens his eyes, blinks lazily up at her. He puzzles over the question, has no idea, time doesn't make sense right now. “What's his name?” she asks instead, switching to something simpler, something concrete – ages change, times flows, names are more solid. His lips twitch. She's trying to tether him there, hoping to keep him awake and breathing, the last thing she wants to do is scare the little boy up front with real interventions. She's just limping him along to the hospital where they can intubate and perform their procedures behind closed doors if necessary, no impressionable little eyes watching something they'll never be able to forget.

“Jack,” he rasps and she smiles, nods. His eyes slip closed again as she presses the oxygen mask over his face. He's not out for long, when he opens his eyes he's still in the ambulance and he can hear Jack talking to Jessica from up front, he can hear that sweet little voice and he doesn't sound so scared while he's talking to her. She's the only person who hasn't abandoned him and the only person who really, truly had nothing but good reasons to have done it already. She has no reason to stay, and yet she does, she would be at the hospital and she would hold his hand and she would hold Jack with all of the love she could muster, relying on Haley somewhere out there to give her strength where she lacked. There is no doubt in his mind that he'll see her there, more than a friend, more than a sister. He doesn't know what she is, but he couldn't live without her. Whatever this family unit was, he and Jack and Jessica, could be all he ever needed if he would just stop messing it up. If he would stop putting them all through hell.

He's in and out of consciousness as they wheel him out of the ambulance and into the hospital, frantic eyes just trying to maintain a lock on Jack. They're talking about irregular heartbeats and tachycardia and he's not surprised, not really, he's been dealing with heart problems on and off for his entire life. Family history of heart attack they say and inwardly he smirks – yeah, there's that, too. Tries not to concern himself over that one, that sonofabitch got off easy. His mother always said he had a weak heart, he'd been so sick, in an out of the hospital countless times before he even learned to read. His first scars, long since buried beneath fresh new ones, was a gift from his weak heart. Of course now they'd have a real medical term, back then it was just weak. He thought it suited him better anyway, didn't care much for anything else they wanted to call it. His fault Jack had problems, this would be Jack's fate too. Never knowing when or where it would strike, when his heart might decide to give up the ghost. A ticking time bomb. It's okay, he'll be okay, they don't seem terribly hurried. His chest feels so heavy.

“Aaron!”

He hears her voice and he feels peaceful, Jack has someone now and it's really all he needed. Heels clicking quickly across the linoleum, an exclamation from Jack and then there are disembodied voices pulling them both away from him – he's going in for examination, she's going to the desk for paperwork. They'll meet up again soon, both a little worse for wear.

It's not a heart attack, it's heat and dehydration and they're worried he's got an irregular heart rhythm that could lead to more serious complications. Could lead to a heart attack. Still, it's not that hot out and he isn't that dehydrated so the fainting is the main concern. Overnight for observation, he's got to take the rest of the week off from work to rest, which means he'll have to cop to being sick. It's not ideal but no one will miss him. They never do. Even worse is that Jess is going to come and stay with them, enforce his resting, whatever diet the doctors deem appropriate – it's going to be misery, but he's going to live. Another survival under his belt. For now. The room is dark and cold, quiet save for the occasional hiss of the blood pressure cuff squeezing angrily at his calf and the gentle beep of the heart monitors. Lying in the bed, propped up and coddled by mounds of pillows, he's trying to sleep. So tired, his body feels unbelievably heavy and yet...his mind won't shut off. Jessica took Jack out for dinner and a milkshake, something to calm his nerves after the scary day he'd had and she told Aaron to sleep, they're in for a long night.

He doesn't sleep well in hospitals though, usually has to be drugged but they don't want to sedate him, not this time, not under these circumstances. So he's just painfully awake and aware of the shocking silence that falls over a hospital room not filled to the brim with people watching but not watching, chatting among themselves while they pretend not to notice he's even there. He'd always hated the busy feeling of his hospital rooms while they buzzed around him, fussed over his pillows or whether or not he'd eaten, now it didn't sound so bad.

“You should call your team,” she says softly while Jack plays his gameboy on the doctor's spinning stool. “They'll come sit with you, you won't have to be alone when I take Jack home soon.”

It isn't that simple, not anymore. “I'd rather not,” he says softly and she can tell by his pinched features that he doesn't want to talk about it. There's something in the way now, something broken that none of them can figure out how to mend. In another life, he would text JJ or Penelope, and they'd round up the troops and bust down his door with balloons and flowers and he'd groan but secretly love it. Instead, he sends a quick email to Strauss, letting her know he won't be back until Monday and puts up an out of office message, she'll disseminate the information to the people that need it.

“Hold still,” she complains, swiping the razor over his chest in long, smooth movements. The bathroom is still steamy from his shower, the last good shower he'll have for a while and she let him stay in extra long without complaining that he was using up all of the hot water and there were still two other people who needed to wash up.

“I could have done it myself,” he retorts and she knows, but he would have messed it up. Cut himself, probably, his hands are still shaking. She's been opening jars and bottles for him all week, they assured him it was just that his body needed to rest and he'd be fine, return to his normal state of fitness but he had to play nice for the time being. It didn't come naturally to him.

“Aaron,” she says, placing one hand on her hip. She doesn't finish her thought, he doesn't make her. Just lets her finish shaving his chest. She'd threatened to shave little patches, only where the monitor leads needed to sit if he didn't cooperate and he was, as predicted, making a liar out of her. He's not entirely cooperating but she's playing nice, giving him a good even shave. “Hold still or you're going to lose a nipple.” He's fidgety, some of it is the trembles he's had for the last few days but the rest is that he claims he doesn't trust her with a razor blade so close to him, especially after everything he's put her through. A thorough wipe of his clean chest with a warm towel and he's ready to be hooked up to his new best friend, the event monitor.

A crisp pinstripe suit, seven-fold tie and tiny blue and red wires peeking out from beneath his jacket when he lifts his arms. It's quite a look, she tells him. Very chic. Very workaholic. The monitor sits in his pocket, he hated it clipped to his belt, it was cumbersome and he kept accidentally knocking it loose, snapping the leads. The sticky glue on the leads had been cold, now he just felt sticky and itchy, and if he moved a certain way, if his tie fell to the side, you could see them protruding around his sternum.

“You could have taken more time off,” she says as she hands him his tumbler of tea, no coffee for the man with the heart monitor she chides. He grunts, says something about how he's supposed to go about his daily routine as usual and usual means coffee but she pays him no mind. Rarely does. He'll hem and haw and she'll stand firm. While he adjusts the lay of his tie over the protruding leads, she's folding up his electric heating blanket, his best friend, and shoving it into a drawer. He's not allowed to use it while he's wearing the monitor, insult to injury. The one thing that brings him comfort, calms his frayed nerves and he can't plug it in or he'll fry his machine. One last glance in the mirror before leaving his home isn't encouraging – he can see the monitor, the leads, and his bruised hand where the IV had been placed leaves nothing to the imagination. Looks like he's been moonlighting with Tyler Durden, the bruised knuckles and bags under his eyes unmistakable. After a week off he still looks and feels like hell, Jess is right, he should have taken more time but he's on the road before he can give it much more thought.

No one pops in to say good morning, and no one asks him how he is. JJ walks by his office and she doesn't even peek in. He isn't surprised, and he's a little glad. It's bad enough to be a walking machine for a month without being under the microscope, every move he makes questioned. Should you be doing that, Hotch? Let me get that for you, Hotch. Sit down, Hotch. He's more than a little glad this happened when it did, when they're not so concerned about him, he's part of the periphery, just a shadow in the background filtering their workloads. A case in Miami floats across his desk, they're asking for help early, a chance to save lives rather than jumping into a feeding frenzy six bodies deep like usual. It's an opportunity for redemption, he figures. Jess begs him not to go, threatens to call his doctor but he's got Strauss breathing down his neck about being in the field, he's not going to get away with much outside of lurking around the police station. At least he'll get some coffee that way, he reasons, and he'll be in charge of shaving his own chest when he needs to attach new leads. A little autonomy would do him some good.

“Hotch?” Spencer asks, scribbling names and dates on a white board. It's just the two of them, has been for more than an hour now and probably will be for a while. They work quietly together, nothing to talk about yet. Aaron goes through the police records, Spencer gets them set up and ready to start hypothesizing. It's their favorite part, just the two of them, bouncing ideas off of one another, slowly building until it looks like something viable. They see the oddities, the things that don't fit, hyper aware of tiny details and play the role of sculptor, molding the clay while Derek and Dave focus on big picture problems. JJ and Alex connect the dots. It works. “Are you...” he clears his throat, clearly nervous. Aaron puts the file down and gives Spencer his full attention. “Are you ready to talk about what happened?”

“What do you mean?” He's genuinely curious, he isn't sure if Spencer means the case or something else. His mind isn't in it, he's still a little confused and overwhelmed and shaky. Normal, they assured him, and he feels his heartbeat in his throat, it's just a little off, a little fast and beneath the table he slips his hand under his jacket and presses the button, thinking this might be an event, this might be something to record. Or maybe he's just not used to being seen anymore. He holds still, tries to breathe normally while he watches Spencer come to the table and sit beside him.

“Strauss told us you were in the hospital, that you collapsed at the park with Jack? And that we should give you some space, but...I don't want to give you any more space. We've had too much space lately...all of us. Nothing has been good in a long time and it's getting worse. We would normally all show up at the hospital and annoy you until you got to leave and we just...didn't. You didn't call. None of us came. So I don't want to give you space.” He paused, sucked in a shaky breath, like he'd been planning that monologue all day, waiting until it was just he and Aaron alone, and now that it was out there he was afraid it wouldn't land. There was always that risk with Aaron. “Is that okay?”

Aaron smiles, and it's the first smile in days. He nods. His heart is still beating too fast but he's not really worried about it this time, doesn't think this one is a problem. “Yes, Reid...that's okay.” Spencer notes that this voice is different, he's quieter, a little breathless. How long had he been like this right under their noses?

“Okay,” Spencer says, and he breathes a sigh of relief, relaxes in his chair and folds his hands on the table. He's looking at Aaron, really looking at him, his eyes drag over the small bumps pulling at the soft material of his shirt just to the side of his tie, follow the cords to his waist, pause briefly at the tremble in his hands. “Are you okay?” It's a silly question, but it's a good place to start.

“Honestly?” he asks, and he figures since Spencer is being so forthcoming, since he'd been brave enough to take the first step, the least he could do is follow. “I don't know, but we're trying to figure it out.” It didn't sound like much, but from Aaron it was as good as baring his soul and Spencer nodded solemnly. “Thank you for asking.”

#aaron hotchner #jessica brooks #spencer reid #jack hotchner #hotch whump

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leo-gold-hotchner · 3 years

Text

Happy Birthday to You

It’s late, it should’ve been up on 2nd Nov, but I couldn’t. Urg. I wanted to be fluffy, but not sure if I succeeded it.

Just a side talk, if anyone reading this having a hard time because of who they are, always remember there’re people supporting you! That includes me! Don’t let others judge you, you’re a lovely person, remember that.

Criminal Minds

Aaron Hotchner X Male Reader

Words: 2.8k

I Kissed a boy AU!

You felt like a jellyfish. A powerless jellyfish wondering in the ocean waves, wherever your destination is, it depends on the wave. You didn’t even have strength to lift your finger when you returned this morning from your shift.

Halloween night was fun, you could spend your time together with Aaron and Jack two nights ago. And yesterday, they left, and you readied for your night shift and it finished just now.

You weren’t sure if it was because a day after Halloween, but it sure had many 911 calls. You didn’t shower or changed your clothes, you just stared at the high ceiling of your house.

-Hotch-

In distant, you heard your phone ringing. You must have fallen asleep. You just wanted to sleep, not to be bothered, but what if it was from your work? What if it was Aaron?

“Gods,” you groaned and pushed yourself heavily from sofa. What time was it? “Hello?” You answered the call without checking who called you.

“Oh, is this Mr. F/N L/N?” It was a woman’s voice, her voice so vibrant and even you being tired managed to smile. Though, you wondered if this was a scam call. “I’m Penelope Garcia and I work with the FBI.”

FBI. Okay, FBI. Ef… Huh?

“Ef, FBI, you say?” You stuttered out at the mention of FBI. Wasn’t that the bureau that investigates criminal staff? Why were they calling you? Did one of last night patients has something to do with crimes?

“Yep, and I work with Aaron Hotchner!” Not knowing your worry, the woman cheerfully mentioned your boyfriend’s name.

“Aaron? You work with Aaron?” You felt stupid to keep asking her, but you had to be sure. And you were still groggy from sleep.

“Yes, so I thought you could help us with a surprise party to him.”

“Why surprise party?” You stood where you were with a dumbfounded face.

“Why, of course, it’s Hotch’s birthday today!” Your brain just stopped working. “With you and Jack there, I believe Hotch’ll love it! Hello? Are you still there?”

“Yes, yes, I’m here.” Oh shit. You didn’t know it was Aaron’s birthday today. They talked all staff, but it seemed they failed to mention respective birthday. Like you didn’t know his, you bet Aaron didn’t know yours too.

“Where are you having this surprise party, Ms. Garcia?”

“It’s just Penelope to you, Mr. Hotch’s boyfriend! You could come to his apartment now, if you can!”

-Hotch-

You sighed as you looked up at the light brown apartment in front of you. Nothing to worry about, right? Penelope works with Aaron, she must be or she wouldn’t know your number. Now think of it, how did she find out? Anyway, you pressed Aaron’s house number and a woman’s voice asked if you were F/N. It was a different voice from before, it was not Penelope.

“Yes?”

“Come in, just press the floor when you get into the lift!” Guess the women around Aaron were all cheerful.

You drummed your fingers on your side as the lift goes up. You didn’t know anyone who Aaron worked with and you were anxious if you’d give them a bad impression of yourself. Before you could knock on the dark brown door, the door abruptly opened and a muscular man stared at you.

“Hey, you must be F/N!” The man gave you a wide grin showing his white teeth.

“F/N!” Jack’s voice squealed behind the man.

As the man moved to the side, the boy flew into your embrace. It was wonder how a child can like you as if he knew you for a long time. You and Jack only met on Halloween day, which was two days ago. And you were proud that you were friendly enough to make Jack instantly take a liking to you.

“Hey, buddy.”

“Aunt Pen said you gonna help Daddy’s birthday party!” Jack’s big eyes shined with excitement. Good to know Ms. Penelope Garcia wasn’t a scam but a real FBI agent. “This is Uncle Derek,” Jack pointed the muscular man who held his hand to greet you.

“Derek Morgan. Just Derek or Morgan’s fine.” You and he shook hands, and wow, his grip was strong.

“Aunt Pen’s not here, she’s maybe with Aunt Jess?” Jack looked around with a puzzled expression in your arms.

“I believe they are.” Derek led you to another room, passing through the kitchen. “Baby girl, he��s here.”

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” The very familiar voice echoed the house, burying Derek’s chuckling with her voice. “You are here!” The woman, Penelope, looked at you with widened eyes, her arms stretched towards you as if she wasn’t expecting you to turn up.

“Hi,” you gave her a little hesitant smile, but nonetheless a genuine one. “I’m F/N, you called me before?”

“Yes, yes, that was me. I’m Penelope, I work with Hotch. He’s our boss,” she pointed herself and Derek. “And, and, this,” she dragged another woman who smiled at you, “is Jessica, Jack’s beautiful aunt.”

“Hello, how’re you,” Jessica shook your hand, giving you a welcoming smile.

“Surprised, but good.” You shrugged, your brain still processing a bit. You didn’t know Aaron had a sister, perhaps you should ask about it later.

“Others are coming later, for now they’re occupying Hotch so he won’t know anything.” Penelope said as she picked up a box full of birthday party supplies and decorations.

“You know,” you let Jack go as he wanted to decorate the house with them. “He once told me you guys aren’t really professional when it comes to surprising him or pranking him.” You scratched back of your head, smiling at Penelope’s shocked face.

“But he won’t know today,” Derek barked a loud laughter. “That usually happens because Baby girl here give it away.”

“I do keep secretes very well, mister!” Penelope gave her friend a mocking indignant face.

“If you say so,” Jessica smirked as she exited the room with colourful ‘Happy Birthday’ banner.

“How many are coming?” You asked as you helped them unpacking several boxes and decorate the room. You wouldn’t know anyone, but you thought you could be conversational.

“Well,” Penelope folded her fingers, “except us we have, Rossi, Spencer, Emily, JJ and probably Henry and Will.”

“Are they all…?”

“We all work together. Well, Henry’s JJ’s son and Will’s Henry’s dad. But we’ve worked with Will once too, so you could say that.” Penelope laughed wholeheartedly. “He doesn’t talk about his work, is he?”

“No,” you shook your head a little.

You never asked him about his work, and he didn’t utter a word about his work too when he was with you. You just thought he’d be too tired and knowing the nature of Aaron’s work, you never thought about asking it. Jessica returned to the room to look for more decoration, she probably heard their conversation.

“Does he take his work and do it while you’re with him?” Jessica asked, her arms hugging her torso.

Your head unconsciously titled to the side. “No?” Was that important?

Penelope cheerfully talked about taking some box to Derek and left Jessica and you alone. And she didn’t forget to shut the door, and you didn’t know why. You felt uncomfortable, feeling like you’re suddenly interrogated by Aaron’s sister.

“He doesn’t want you to leave him.” Jessica smiled at you, riddling you with her words. She laughed a bit as she saw your puzzled look. “He used to bring his work to home, that made Haley mad sometimes.”

You heard that name before. Aaron told you his wife and he dated since their high school, though unfortunate accident took her away from him and Jack. He never told you the details, and you didn’t ask him. The excruciating pain was palpable on Aaron’s face, so you didn’t want him to remember the painful memory by telling you. You never pushed him for more.

“Because he’s busy, we can’t really have a proper conversation and we’re always with Jack so you know.” Jessica smiled ghostly. “But whenever he talks about you, his eyes lit up in spirit. He returns to the Aaron I used to know before everything.” She gave you a knowing smile. “I know talking these staff can be uncomfortable for you, especially talking about Haley. But like my sister made Aaron happy, you make him happy.” Oh, Jessica was not Aaron’s sister, but sister-in-law. “You’re not substituting Haley, mind you.” She sighed. “I want him to be happy.” Not just a sister-in-law, Jessica was truly Aaron’s sister, wishing his happiness.

“I want him to be happy, too.” Both of you just looked at each other for a moment. “Isn’t it, you know, weird?” She looked at you questioningly. “Aaron suddenly bringing a boyfriend? It’s not normal isn’t it?” You didn’t know you were scrubbing the side of your pants due to anxiety.

“You mean Aaron being bisexual?” She titled her head questioningly. “Oh, yeah, I was surprised when he told me he has a boyfriend, but it’s not weird. You make Aaron happy, that makes Jack happy. And that makes me happy and his friends happy. Everyone’s happy, it’s not weird or strange at all. It’s just natural for you and Aaron love each other.”

You couldn’t help but tears pooling. In fact, you never asked Aaron about his family or friends because you were scared. You just buried questions deep inside so you wouldn’t be attacked by bigotry comments.

Suddenly she pulled you into a big hug. “Don’t worry, you’re a perfect normal man. No one should judge you or Aaron because of your sexual orientation. I’m glad both of you can be honest with me.” Jessica laughed as she patted your shoulder. “Even though we met just today. Now let’s decorate more before Aaron storms in.”

-Hotch-

Hotch rubbed his eyes, the writings on the report just leaving as soon as they come into his brain. He couldn’t concentrate, the Sun was saying its good-bye to another day. He had to concentrate in order to return to his son as soon as possible. Then his phone beeped and he frowned as he picked up the phone.

‘Hey, bro, happy birthday.’

It was Sean. He was surprised his little brother actually texted him on his birthday. Hotch couldn’t help but chuckle a bit as he reread the text. Sean actually never calls him ‘bro’ or ‘brother’ unless it was a rare occasion. And it was a first time in years he called Aaron ‘bro’ even in a text message.

‘M not sorry to not giving any present to a birthday boy.’ Another message from Sean, with a laughing yellow face in the end.

‘You could always call me. But thank you.’ Before sending the text, Aaron wondered if his text was too… well, stiff? He threw his head to the headrest. He could be, no, should be more friendly with his little brother. He quickly deleted his text.

‘Visit me anytime soon and that can be my present, brother.’ Sean didn’t like to be called ‘little’ brother, so no ‘little brother’. It’s not a perfect text, but he tried.

He nearly jumped in a start after sending the text when JJ opened his door. Thank gods his face didn’t show any emotion. “Hotch, you need to go home. Everyone went home already.” JJ shook her head.

“Let me just finish this report.”

“That can wait, but not your birthday,” the blonde agent squinted her eyes disapprovingly. “Have time with Jack, he’s probably waiting for you to say ‘happy birthday dad’.”

The Unit Chief quickly closed his mouth, he couldn’t say anything. “You’re right.” Hotch sighed. “So everyone’s gone, already?”

“Yeah, said they can always finish their paperwork tomorrow,” she rolled her eyes.

“We’ll see to that,” Hotch snorted. Not even Dave will get away from the paperwork tomorrow. “Well, good night, JJ.”

“Night, Hotch.” JJ smiled at him and left the office.

-Hotch-

Aaron stared at the apartment building where his home was. He could see the light through the window, Jack probably waiting for him with Jessica. He looked down at his phone once again, as he did for every one minute since Sean texted him. You didn’t text him or call him. Of course nothing as you had a night shift and you were probably sleeping. And he never told you about his birthday being today. Receiving a ‘happy birthday’ text from Sean made him happy, so it’d make him happier if you texted him or called him to say ‘happy birthday’. But that was his fault, he never mentioned. Why didn’t he do that?

He groaned as he roughly brushed down his face before entering the building. He was tired, but happy to see his son from this long day. It’d be a best day if he could see you along with Jack. Yesterday and the day before were the best days he had for some years. Spending time with Jack and you, waking up next to you, having breakfast with you and Jack.

Unlike the last time from his office, this time he couldn’t control his emotion when everyone yelled ‘surprise’ under the ‘Happy Birthday’ banner in his apartment. His mouth didn’t even close from wonder.

Jack dashed to him, holding a birthday card. “Happy birthday, Daddy!” Aaron held his son and kissed on Jack’s crown.

“Hey, buddy, what’s this?”

“It’s a surprise party, Daddy.” Jack gave him the ‘don’t be silly’ face.

The crowd came to him, each of them chanting ‘happy birthday’ to him, and among them you were there. Just like when he saw his son, his eyes brightened at your presence. You were bashfully smiling at you, standing next to Morgan and Reid.

Everyone started to give him the presents, starting from Jack. Even little Henry gave his Uncle Aaron a little drawing with a bright smile. When it was your turn, you just shrugged and said ‘later’. Though Aaron could see distress in your eyes.

-Hotch-

It was wonder how his small apartment was having this many guests, and one by one they started to fall asleep from drinking too much wine. Both boys were already crawled into Jack’s bed, and the adults were just loosened up at his home. Perhaps they could’ve just planned his surprise part at Dave’s house.

Aaron didn’t even expect his mentor all drunken and sleeping on his study chair. Prentiss shoved herself into the sofa where Reid fainted happily with red face. Morgan protectively hugging Garcia while his back leaned on the sofa, while his head hung on Garcia’s crown. Will just like Morgan, his back on the sofa but letting JJ on his thighs and crouched on his chest. He won’t wake his friends, they will whine about their back and neck being stiff, but never going to wake them up and make them do all the paperworks for hiding this from him.

“I know that look,” Jessica scoffed from behind. “You gonna make them pay for planning this.”

“Am I?” Aaron smirked at his sister-in-law.

“Be lenient on them, it was Jack’s idea.” He blinked in surprise. “Of course, the adults were more enthusiastic than Jack.” She cleaned the kitchen and packed her bag.

“You can use my bed.” Aaron suggested.

“I have to go, I have to work on some staff before going to bed. And you have your boyfriend to care.” She gave him an accusing finger. He looked around, and he couldn’t find you. “I didn’t drink any wine and I brought my car. Don’t worry about me, Aaron.” She held the door open wide, giving him a familial smile. “I’m glad you have friends to support you. Good night Aaron, see you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Jessica.” Aaron gave her a thankful smile.

-Hotch-

When he entered his room to find you, you were on his bed, yawning while swinging your legs slowly.

You held your arms up when you saw him. “You never told me today’s your birthday, so I’m mad.” Aaron chuckled as he looked at your fake angry face. Your eyes starting to lose focus as sleepiness kicking in you rather fast. “Hey, don’t laugh,” you threw one of his pillows to his way, but Aaron skilfully avoided it. “I’m serious. I didn’t have any time to prepare present for you.” You pouted, not realising you were acting like a child.

Aaron quietly sat next to you, his strong arm wrapping your side. “You being here is my present.”

“No,” you replied in slur before giving a big yawn. “I’ll always be here for you, so it can’t be a present.” Aaron’s chest swelled in happiness, his heart running over the hill. But you didn’t notice Aaron’s very very happy smile because you leaned on his broad chest, eyes closed. “I want something special, something that reminds me wherever you’re,” you mumbled as you rubbed your eyes. Aaron couldn’t comprehend anything after that, you were both mumbling and slurring and soon falling asleep in his arm.

“Trust me, F/N. I’ve got the best present ever today.” Aaron whispered to his sleeping boyfriend, pleasant smile plastered on his face.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #male reader #jj #jack hotchner #jessica brooks #emily prentiss #dave rossi #derek morgan #Penelope Garcia #spencer reid #Henry LaMontagne #will lamontagne #sean hotchner #i kissed a boy au

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olivinesea · 3 years

Text

Worth the Keeping

a/n: Damn this was a slow one. Brought to you by the way asphalt looks under streetlights and me having been a badly behaved teenage drunk. It’s long but there’s no way around it. TW abuse, nothing wild tho. One bad slur, I’m sorry. Settle in for some in depth Hotch thoughts. ~6k

Young Hotch, young Haley. Bittersweet.

He’s never thought much about his own life, never felt that it carried much importance. Certainly the people in his home did not value it. He thinks perhaps his mother did at one point but she is too caught up in her own worries and the care of Sean to devote any attention to him. Sometimes she even seems angry if he appears to need help. So he makes sure never to need it. He learns how to splint broken fingers and reset dislocated joints, how butterfly bandages and superglue were all that was needed to close most wounds. He thinks, when he is encouraged to imagine the future by naively optimistic teachers, that perhaps he will be an EMT since he’s become so good at triage. He’s met a few EMTs, the rare times when an ambulance was necessary, the threat to life too immediate to ignore. They usually seem like nice, if a little intense, people.

Once, when he was only five, he had experienced anaphylaxis after being stung by a bee. He’d already learned not to make a big deal out of life’s little injuries. So when the bee stings him in the garden, he knows not to say anything. It is his fault anyway, it is always his fault. He sucks on the skin around the sting, anything to take away the fiery sensation he is feeling. He has never been stung by a bee before, had no idea what was going to happen as he grabbed at the little buzzing creatures flying busily around his mother’s flower garden. It turned out, bees did not appreciate chubby hands grasping at them and one made a point of letting him know.

He creeps back to the house guiltily, thinking of the ice in the freezer, maybe he could get some of that. Sometimes his mother would bring him ice wrapped in a towel to place over the repercussions of his childish transgressions, still reaching for love he couldn’t earn. It was always too cold, biting in a way that made the injuries pulse. But he accepted it because it meant that his mother was sitting near him, that he wasn’t alone for a little while. This only reinforced his lessons that care was painful. Wasn’t it better to have someone care so much it hurt than to have no one to care at all? She promised him that’s all it was, it was only because they cared that these things happened. It was only that he was still learning.

But right now, the bee sting is burning a hole in his hand and he thinks maybe the ice could at least distract him from that pain. He slips silently into the house, his eyes adjusting slowly to the dark interior after the bright summer sun. He is breathing hard, but each breath seems to draw in less air. Maybe he is afraid. He knows fear, is intimately familiar with the feeling. He knows it better than most five year olds do, who only experience fear on a basic level—sometimes practical: fires burn, falling from high places is dangerous; sometimes fantastical: what if there are dragons in the woods or ghosts in the attic. Fear was a means to keep you safe but when you are a child there are supposed to be adults helping keep you safe as well. A child’s fear shouldn’t have to be so specific. Aaron is afraid of slammed doors and broken glass and dirt tracked in on his shoes. He is afraid of storms that brew in bottles of dark liquid and unleash torrential outpourings of disgust.

In this moment he is afraid, not of a monster, but of a person who might be watching him from the shadows of the living room. He is too young to understand schedules and time, he doesn’t know his greatest fear is otherwise occupied. Instead, he lets fear be the reason for his change in breathing. He makes it to the kitchen with its big windows and bright lighting, only to find his hand has grown, comically large and heavy, the skin swollen and stretched. Breathing feels like trying to drag air through a wet towel. He feels his heart racing as the fear closes in but still stays quiet. He probably wouldn’t be able to make much noise if he tried but he doesn’t want to find out who else is inside the house at the moment.

Through the small luck allotted him, his mother comes in minutes later to find him curled on the kitchen floor, skin around his mouth a pale blue, his eyes closed in concentration, trying to will air through his constricted windpipe. She is about to scold him, to tell him to stop playing when she sees his hand, all doughy pink and covered in hives that travel up his arm to his thin chest. She rushes to the phone to call 911. She’s never been more scared, both that her son might die and that her husband might find out how careless they’d both been.

Ambulances weren’t easy to hide, drew too much attention, but something tells her there isn’t time for a different choice. The EMTs assure her she had done the right thing, quickly setting to work administering epinephrine and monitoring Aaron’s oxygen levels. If he seems rather quiet and withdrawn for a five year old, he had just gone through a dramatic, life threatening experience. It would cause anyone to sink into a bit of shock. They don’t notice the nervous looks exchanged between mother and son, both their eyes darting to the long driveway every so often, looking out for incoming danger. When they tell her the boy needs to be taken to the hospital for further care she visibly balks.

“But he seems fine now, he’s doing better right?”

The child in question is sitting in the open back of the ambulance, thin legs dangling, scum from leftover bandaid adhesive outlining skinned knees. He is breathing carefully into a mask that another medic holds for him. His hand is cradled in his lap, no longer outlandishly large but still misshapen. He looks fragile and she longs to pull him away, out of the hands of these strangers, who may only be trying to help but don’t realize how their help might have consequences. She wants them to leave, wants the house to return to the state it was in this morning when her husband left for the day, so he wouldn’t see anything as out of place, wouldn’t have to know about the day’s events.

She is worried about talk in the neighborhood, about the way her front lawn has been overrun by busy people in uniform, doing what she can’t imagine. But it was a future worry; she was so good at keeping secrets surely this was one she could fit in somewhere. If only she can keep it contained to this moment, prevent it from spreading.

“He is, but it’s important that he go. There could be a secondary reaction.”

Her arms are crossed and she rubs her index finger across her bottom lip absently as she tries to think quickly. Victor will be home soon, he would be disturbed to find them gone. She doesn’t think there will be any way to hide this if they went to the hospital. Too many people will see, there will be no way to lie away their absence. But if they didn’t go now and Aaron got worse, she couldn’t very well call the emergency services a second time. She looks at him again. He is now staring down at the ground, swinging his little legs back and forth. She hates that she has to make a decision like this. She hates how there were likely no good outcomes no matter what she chooses. She pinches her lip between her fingernails for a moment then sighs as she gives in.

“Ok, let’s go. I just need to call my husband first.”

It was only the presence of the hospital staff that stops him from strangling both mother and son when he receives the bill. Aaron shrinks against his mother’s side as his father thanks the doctor with a tight voice before turning and walking out of the building. His mother, nervous herself, is shivering, he can feel her body shake as he presses against her. She takes off on quick steps to follow his father from the building. She would have left him behind if he hadn’t been gripping tightly to her skirt, nearly dragging him off balance with her speed. They get into the car silently. Aaron climbs behind the passenger seat to the back and tries to melt into the corner. The air is snapping with electricity as a fast moving spring rainstorm darkens the sky around them. The tension makes him want to scream. He knows better.

“I’m sorry, there wasn’t time,” his mother starts, her voice embarrassingly plaintive.

"Shut up.”

Aaron’s eyes dart back and forth between his parents. He sees his mother hang her head, rounding her shoulders ever so slightly. He sees his father’s knuckles turn white as he grips the steering wheel. He knows this was his fault but he doesn’t know how to fix it. He opens his mouth to say something but right then lightening cracks across the sky in front of them and they are all dazed by the flash.

Later, after they get back to the house and Aaron is sent to his room, the crashes of thunder mingle with his father’s shouting, his mother’s cries. He shivers beneath his too thin blanket, his lungs still feel new and foreign. Like they have been scraped raw and newly exposed to their purpose of pulling oxygen into his small body. He has suspected it before but this experience has solidified in his mind that he shouldn’t be here, that his presence only causes distress. He knows his mother would be better off if he had died, he knows his father would be less angry about that than whatever humiliation he feels he’s just experienced at the hospital. For some reason, despite his wishes to the contrary, he only brings about waste and pain. He had only wanted to meet the tiny creatures, to see if their busy movements, their buzzing hearts matched his own.

As he gets older, he grows tired of the care, he wishes more and more to be ignored. If only his father cared less, he could fade into the wallpaper, disappear into the shadows of their house. If no one cares, he can’t disappoint with his shortcomings. He can just float around in a fog that softens the world around him, never caring too much about anything, never feeling that sting of caring. If he doesn’t care, nothing matters, nothing can touch him.

Aaron has completely accepted the fact of his own unimportance by the time he is a teenager. He does everything he can to blend into the background. To escape the notice of others because being noticed is never safe. It reminds people that he dares to take up space, dares to make use of resources better allocated to creatures more deserving, less hateful.

Something shifts once he hits puberty, a sort of recklessness sparks inside him. Though he is still careful to avoid the attentions of adults, he starts to bite back when other kids tease him. They had been teasing him his whole life. For his strange haircuts and too small or too large clothing. For never having new things. They told him he was dirty, they told him he was weird. All the usual small cruelties children hurl at one another.

Now that he is in high school and has gone through a growth spurt, not yet his full size but much larger than he had been, he has some power. He notices the way the other kids step back when he stands up quickly, only with the desire to run and hide, but he notices it nevertheless. I’ll remember that, he thinks as he walks, rather than runs, to escape from their taunts.

Part way into his freshman year he breaks someone’s nose. While not exactly justified it wasn’t unprovoked either. They had been picking at him throughout the day. Purposely running him into lockers, knocking over his lunch tray and pinching him as he walked by. There are so many of them and they are so quick about it he is never completely sure who is doing it. His irritation grows inside him such that he wouldn’t be surprised to see smoke drifting out of his ears. The pokes and jabs are bad enough on their own but what the other kids don’t know is that they are just layering over deeper bruises, ones he does his best to forget about. If he thinks about those too much he’d go crazy.

The older he gets the harder it is to hold together the fractured reality he lives inside of. The one where a man can be both a hero and a monster. He has known since he was little about the danger his father carries but as he got older and saw more of the world around him he has realized that this is not the same for everyone. And not only is it not the same, his experience is somehow invisible, inconceivable to all the eyes of his hometown. As an adult he will look back and realize that some people did know, they just didn’t do anything to help, for whatever complicated reasons adults tell themselves that they shouldn’t get involved in others’ business. Even if the cost is taken out of a child’s nightmares.

So when Luke Gatson pulls his too-long hair and calls him a fag at the end of the day, he’s had enough. He swings his fist blindly but with all the force of years of built up anger. He is surprisingly accurate, maybe having absorbed more knowledge of inflicting pain over the years than he realized. There is an audible crack as the other boy collapses on his knees, holding both hands over his bleeding nose. Aaron stares at him, hand still clenched in a fist, eyes burning. Luke’s friends crowd around him, glancing between the two, wondering if they are meant to get some sort of revenge for their friend. Aaron can see that they are surprised, probably the reason that they haven’t jumped him immediately. He also sees the tears on Luke’s face that he is trying to hide. That makes him feel bad and he loses any sense of the burning hatred that had taken over.

“Sorry, Luke,” he says sheepishly.

“Fuck you Hotchner,” Luke replies, scowling at him.

Aaron shrugs, he’s heard worse, and walks away toward home. As afternoon becomes evening, Aaron’s stomach is in knots over the thought that his father will find out what he’d done. He is sure the man will not be pleased about it. He is so anxious he can’t even pretend to eat what is in front of him at dinner, a frequent struggle that earns him glares from both parents. He can’t stop darting his eyes to the phone, waiting for it to ring and deliver his sentencing.

He is washing the dishes when it finally does and he nearly drops the soapy ceramic, startled by the sound. He forces himself to stay still, to keep doing what he is supposed to, maybe his mother will intercept it. But his mother is putting Sean to bed, only his father is downstairs and he can hear him grumbling about people’s lack of decency calling so late. Aaron can only make out muffled sounds from the other room as his father has a short exchange with whoever is on the other end. He hasn’t been able to move since the phone started ringing and his hands start to shake as he hears the small click of the receiver, the footsteps coming toward the kitchen. He carefully sets the plate in the sink but continues to grip the sponge like it might be some sort of shield. He feels his father’s presence behind him and slowly turns to face him.

Victor is looking at him curiously from the doorway, eyebrows pulled together, corners of his mouth drawn down slightly.

“You got in a fight.” It is not a question, he is not interested in the details or whether his son might have different information.

Internally Aaron panics, trying to think of a way to escape this situation. He’s had plenty of time to consider how his father would react and how he might possibly minimize the fallout. Outside he is perfectly still, eyes downcast, breathing measured. Maybe he should run. He hasn’t tried that since he was small, too small to understand there was nowhere to run to. Maybe he would be fast enough now. Then he hears the least expected sound. He has to look up to convince himself he is interpreting it correctly. His father is laughing. His eyes go wide with alarm, he can’t remember his father ever laughing before. Maybe this has unlocked some new level of anger.

“Must have been a weak little shit to get taken down by you,” he says.

Still in shock, Aaron has nothing to say. His dad rubs his face with his hand, a little chuckle escaping. He drops his hand and looks at Aaron.

“Never fucking do that again. You won’t like what happens after.” All humor gone, the stony glare reappears. With that he turns and walks away, his steps only slightly unsteady.

Despite knowing better Aaron gets into more fights and his father delivers on his promise. Rationally he knows he can stop this. Maybe he doesn’t always have control over what happens to him at home, but this, the fighting, is completely a choice. After the first incident a few other kids test him, seeing if his breaking Luke’s nose was only luck. They quickly discover that he is able to back up that first knock out. Aaron is a natural fighter. He is on the scrawny side but what he lacks in mass he makes up for in pure rage. After a few more black eyes and split lips, the other kids grow more cautious, give him space when they walk by. No one teases him anymore.

But those fights taught him something. He discovers he likes the experience of being on the attack rather than only receiving. He never fights back at home, it is unthinkable to try to defend himself against what comes at him there. But out here in the world, for a few moments, he becomes something else. He becomes electricity and thunder, the one operating the crane that swings the wrecking ball, demolishing years of pent up confusion with his fists. He starts fights now. It does’t matter that it means he goes home to a matching fist, a coordinating set of bruises. He would be going home to that anyway, wouldn’t he? The blood in his mouth tastes like winning.

A couple years into high school and this is all he is now. Something dark and dangerous, he walks through the hallways, glaring at others, raising his fists any time he can find an excuse. If people notice he has more bruises than ever before, dusky marks on his cheek, his neck, the angry red patches of skin exposed during scuffles, it only makes sense given how much he’s taken to fighting.

Sometimes he sees flashes of fear in their eyes as he gains the upper hand and for a split second he is remorseful, identifying with that fear. But then, just as quickly, he is angry again. Angry that this fear is so new to them when for him it’s been a close companion all his life. He resents their normalcy and their parents that scold and worry, making a big show of taking away privileges when they have to come to collect their misbehaving child from the principal’s office. His father never makes a big show, barely says anything at all, simply apologizing to the principal, promising he will talk it over with his son, will make sure he understands the gravity of the path he is heading down. He can’t look at his father during these meetings, afraid he might scream, if only to drown out the ringing in his ears.

One time it is his mother rather than his father picking him up after yet another fight and he makes the mistake of making eye contact with her. The tears are instantaneous. He brushes at his face roughly with the heels of his hands, but nothing he does can stop them. He is frightening to see cry, making the people around him very uncomfortable with the way he is completely silent. The principal doesn’t bother giving his mother the usual speech, only ushers them out the door, his mother offering a quiet thank you. Looking into her eyes had shown him that she knows, that she knows what is coming and she will do nothing to stop it.

She had given up on him when Sean was born, writing him off as a lost cause. She will give everything to Sean; if only she can keep him safe, she won’t be a total failure. She felt guilty at first, trying to reason that Aaron was old enough to take care of himself but the nagging feeling of abandoning her responsibility was hard to escape. As he grew older, however, he had become this stranger she no longer feels anything for but shame. She can’t wait for the day he is old enough to leave the house. She knows there will be no peace before then.

Aaron fights with a determination that reveals how little he takes into account his own safety. He’ll fight with anyone; bigger, older, more experienced, it doesn’t matter. He’s even started to pick fights with adults, daring them to react. Nothing anyone does can touch him. Without a sense of self, a drive for self preservation, there is no reason not to throw himself entirely into the burning of the world. He would deny it but his deepest secret is the hope that if he keeps at it, perhaps someone will notice, someone will care enough to tell him he is worth compassion. Every time he fights and no one asks why, it reinforces this idea: that he is worthless, just an embarrassment to minimize. So he fights harder. He doesn’t know if he is trying to prove them right or wrong.

He only slows down when his father breaks his wrist and threatens to send him away. Alone in his room, doing his best to immobilize the joint with an old brace, he cries, hot and painful tears. Not because of the injury but for how twisted he’s become, how the only comfort he has found has been in turning this brutality on others.

Wandering the halls after school one day, prolonging the time before he heads home in the rain, he hears singing. Mindlessly he walks toward it, curious who might be the owner of such light that they can spill it out of themselves in sound. He comes to an open door and finds clumps of students standing or sitting, all facing toward a makeshift stage. Standing alone at the front was the singer, her face as beautiful as her voice suggests. He is magnetized. Her song ends and he feels it like a loss, barely registering the exchange between the girl and the two adults in the room as they thank her and make some marks on a clipboard. Suddenly there are fingers snapping in his face and he glares down at their owner, pulling his injured wrist in against his chest, protecting it from whatever action he is going to take. When he finds a small freshman boy looking up at him with an expression not of fear, only interest, he is confused. He is not accustomed to anyone looking at him without some degree of anger.

“Are you here for auditions?” The boy seems a little exasperated, like he’s repeated the question dozens of times already.

Aaron blinks at him. Auditions? As he is trying to understand the question, another kid steps into the spot last occupied by the singing girl and says a few words before beginning to sing as well. He notes that they are good as well but nowhere near the sweetness he was drawn in by. He looks around the room trying to find the girl, he is fairly certain he’s seen her before, maybe in one of his English classes. He never paid much attention to the other kids outside of which ones might deserve a fight. He spots her in a corner whispering with another girl, ducking her head and smiling, playfully knocking her friend’s shoulder. The strange feeling in his chest is his heart melting. He looks back down when he feels a tug on his shirt sleeve. He is ready to bite the head off of this annoying child.

“There’s a spot left if you want to audition. You have something prepared right?”

Aaron Hotchner has nothing prepared, nothing in his life could have prepared him for this moment but he’d do anything to get closer to that smile. He nods.

“Sure.” He can barely get the word out, his throat is dry and raspy. The kid looks at him quizzically, Aaron almost laughs at the way one of his eyebrows rises up. He can already imagine him as a crinkled old man.

“You have something to sing?” he questions more directly, doubt clearly apparent.

Aaron shrugs, he can come up with something. On the better days, the spring and summer days, when the light gets longer and he can wander in the woods for hours, he sang with the birds. Singing was nothing new to him. Singing for other people though, he does’t like that idea at all if he lets himself think about it. But there is no time to think. He is giving his name and being jostled into the room. Before he has fully taken in his surroundings, his name is spoken with some confusion as he is called up to his turn.

One of the adults is his civics teacher from his freshman year. She frowns as she looked at him and he feels a wash of anxiety, remembering who he is, remembering he is not made for good things. He opens and closes his mouth but no sound comes out. The room is quiet and he can feel everyone’s eyes on him. He exhales, angry with himself, looking up to glare out at this roomful of people who’s only crime is agreeing with him that he is worthless. But he sees her again—she is smiling, barely, but it is enough.

He clears his throat and starts to sing. It is a quiet sad song, a hymn he’s heard a hundred times as he forced himself to stay awake during services. There is not enough penance in the world to absolve him but he likes the music sometimes. This one has been a favorite for many years. His voice gets stronger as he settles into it, staring at the floor just beyond his shoes, trying to picture himself out in the woods, surrounded by his only companions—the silent trees and the birdsong. When he stops they are staring at him and he hates it. He rubs one foot against the back of the other calf, considering just walking out of the room before anyone is forced to say anything, to embarrass him further with some pitying words.

“That—that was great!” the teacher finally says. “We needed a baritone, you would be perfect.”

Aaron just nods, cheeks flushed as he risks another look to the corner where the girl had been standing. She is still there, looking at him more carefully now, her expression an odd mix of emotion. It is enough to give him the courage to smile back, just slightly, the tiniest twitch of the corner of his mouth.

“Rehearsals start next week. Everyday after school. Can you do that?”

He nods again, dragging his eyes back to the adults in front of him. “Yes, ma’am,” he says, just as quietly as when he started.

As he walks away, he hears his old civics teacher mutter to the drama teacher, “I had no idea he could sing. I’ve barely heard him speak.”

The other teacher hums back in agreement, just as confused.

Many months down the line and Aaron has softened a little. No longer an instigator of fights, he has other things on his mind. The anger hasn’t gone anywhere but he holds it back so that it doesn’t disturb the peace he finds with Haley. She is the best thing to ever come into his life and he knows he doesn’t deserve her; knows it is only a matter of time before the world rights itself and takes this gentle soul from him. He knows she is not a second chance, no one will ever forget what he is, he can never outrun the dark looks that follow his name. But he’ll hide in the solace she provides as long as the world lets him.

To her credit, she doesn’t make him feel foreign or pathetic as she learns new layers of his reality. Inside she cringes at every revelation but she is careful, keeping an invitation on her face, making space for him to bleed out some of what poisons him. He is hesitant and slow to share, sure that each slip will send her running. But when she does’t run, when she only pulls him closer, he trembles with the desire to be seen the way she seems to. That relentlessly denied hope gaining strength—that someone might care to look past the barbed wire and broken glass he’s made a home within.

There are good days and bad, they are only children after all. Sometimes he can’t explain his feelings. They are too big and all he wants to do was rip apart the world to find a place he can bury them. He tries to hide from her but she’s caught on to his tricks, seeking him out in all his usual unusual places: behind the gym, near the creek, the empty fields around his home. She grabs his shaking hands and pulls him to the ground, leaning against him and stroking the back of his hand while he shivers out the small pieces of a story that he thinks she can handle. The reality is it is much more than she can but much less than he needs. But they do their best.

She waits until she is alone or with her sister to cry for the ways life has harmed him, has doubled back on its promise and turned something she thought was a gift into nothing but torment. It is the first time she’s really understood what people mean when they say life is unfair. But she is stubborn and believes everyone deserves kindness, if no one else was willing to provide, she will be his reprieve.

At first the other girls laugh, thinking it is some kind of joke, a cliche, the beauty and the beast. But as they watch him change, catching smiles and held hands, they are in awe of Haley Brooks. While they can’t forget their distaste for the weird and angry boy they’ve known since grade school, they think perhaps there is something they missed. The softer-hearted among them root for their success; the others, once over the novelty, do their best to ignore the couple. Soon it isn’t even worth a comment when Haley turns up to some social event, towing along a brooding but behaved Aaron Hotchner.

It is Halloween and she’s convinced him to come to a party. Not a big deal, she promises, just a keg and some idiots in the woods. He gives in easily because he knows how badly she wants to go and he tries to give her whatever normalcy he can. He is uncomfortable at parties but appreciative that this one will be outside, in the woods, his woods, as he likes to think of them. The party is uneventful, he even manages to get a laugh from a group of tipsy sophomores when he makes a dry observation of the likeness of warm beer to peanuts. He hadn’t been trying to be funny but their laughter feels nice anyway.

They wander away from the party together, walking towards the neighborhood they both live in. He has handed over his jacket to supplement the impractical blue gingham dress she is wearing. He’d resisted her requests for a couples costume and frowned unhappily when she thrust a flannel and a straw hat at him as they were headed out. He’d put his normal jacket on over it as soon as she was distracted by a conversation and “lost” the hat somewhere in a bush. At least without the hat he could feasibly be wearing a normal outfit though he would never pick out something quite so green.

They hold hands as they walk down the sidewalk, tugging on one another slightly just to feel the comfort of the opposing weight. Occasionally there is a sign post and he drops her hand to split around it, only to grab it back and pull her in closely for a kiss. She giggles, enjoying this looser version of him. He doesn’t drink in front of her very often, usually too nervous to lower his guard and make himself vulnerable in that way.

As they get closer to town, he steps further into the street when he lets go of her hand. There is more traffic here and she is confused by what he’s doing. Maybe he is getting tired, not paying attention to his actions. She isn’t completely wrong, though it’s not the sort of inattention she’s thinking of. Every headlight that burns their vision pulls at him. The promise of impact, of un-ignorable damage draws him closer. He laughs as he stumbles, veering back to the sidewalk with smaller and smaller margins. He seems to have forgotten her, instead he is focused on this private game without a possibility of winning. It makes her nervous but she tells herself it isn’t a big deal. All boys are like this, flirting with destruction.

As yet another car passes with only a few feet of clearance, she can’t take it anymore.

“Aaron! This isn’t fun for me,” she is upset and the tone of her voice cuts through the drunken fog of his mind. He’s almost forgotten he isn’t alone, hypnotized by the weave of light and dark. Immediately remorseful, he jumps back to the sidewalk, planting his feet heavily and grabbing her around the waist. He pulls her in close, tucking her head under his chin, closing his eyes against the rise and fall of the horizon.

“‘m sorry,” he whispers into her hair. She shakes her head but squeezes him, arms wrapped around his torso. He takes another breath and opens his eyes, watching as another car passes them, oblivious to their small drama. The lights still pull at him but he clings to her, holding on for all he’s worth.

#Criminal Minds #aaron hotchner #haley hotchner #young hotch #tw abuse #hotch thoughts

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whump-town · 3 years

Text

In His Eyes

Warning: abuse, mental health, lots of talk about food and starvation, hospital, suicide attempt, suicidal ideations, cutting, and self-harm, cursing, and it’s just very dark

Listen, this might be a little much. The themes are dark and it’s far from a happy story

Main Characters Are Aaron Hotchner, Jessica Brooks, and Haley Hotchner

Probably OOC but I don’t care

His pulse is slow against her fingers but there. She calls 911, sobbing. Choking around the weight of his name on her tongue. Will they let her back this time? To hold his hand? He gets nightmares. He won’t like being alone. “He’s--He’s twenty-two,” she rasps, brushing his hair from his eyes. “This is his first year of law school.” And he’s so fucking smart. She needs them to know that. He’s kind. Always remembers her favorite foods and makes her laugh. He’s just a kid. They’re just kids and he’s the only person she’s ever loved. So, they have to help. Please, God, just help.

Final warning for themes of abuse, mental health, food, starvation, hospitals, suicide attempts, suicidal ideations, cutting, and self-harm

Word count: 9,137

For as long as Jessica Brookes has known her brother, he’s had the thin scars marring the pale, milky flesh of his arms. The first time she’d seen them, she was sixteen too old to play stupid but too afraid to call them what they were. At the time, he hadn’t been her brother. In fact, to the world, he had been no one at all. A ghost that walked the halls of their high school with his pained, sluggish movements and seemingly unseeing eyes. Sweaters dripping down his skinny frame and jeans that were made to fit someone nearly double his size. But, for what little credit it’s worth, no one had ever said a thing about him. He was no one. Nothing.

Haley had seen past all of that. Of course, she had. Haley had never loved anything whole. She drank from cracked plastic straws for fear of what would happen should she leave them behind. Thrown out, that’s what. The world has no use for a straw that can not do it’s one feasible job. Not to Haley, though. Their father used to call her Saint Haley, the patron saint of the discarded. And naturally, Haley clung to the idea of Saint Jude. Another lost soul, seemingly just like her, out there to collect others. A reminder that even the lost aren’t alone and that they may not be as lost as they think. And so how could any of them be surprised when Haley, who hung the moon and stairs, brought home her own lost being? Stumbling in clothes too large for his lithe frame and stinking of booze and cigarettes.

Aaron Hotchner has no place in their home. Jessica had been unwavering in this. Look at him. A semester ago, he’d been kicked off the track team for pot. He can’t even go out and get drunk with everyone else. He smokes cheap cigarettes out behind the Miller’s barn and, thought no one could prove it, they all blamed him for the dead birds and cat half-buried in the woods by the school. How could it not be him? With those large, trembling hands and his inability to stay away from trouble. How many fights had he been in this year? How many times had Jessica come from one of her classes to find the student body surrounding his bowed back as he sat over the hips of another boy, mercilessly beating him? So, how could that dirty boy be worth her sister? If she’d asked him, he’d answer her with the same thought Jessica knew better than to speak around Haley. He doesn’t.

So, how could any of this add up? Aaron Hotchner like a straw bent with damage has good in him too. Jessica had never seen the other boys. The way they pick and preen at him. Smacking his head and kicking at his ankles. Calling names at his back. The teachers never do a damn thing and why should they? He’s not the smartest kid in their classes. He sits in the back. Turns in mediocre work. He doesn’t get encouragement. “I know you’re capable of more than this, Aaron.” No, he gets sighs and shaking heads. So, when he takes action. Thrown to the end of his line, he is the bad guy. Because Aaron Hotchner is just the kid no one likes. His father’s name is the only thing keeping him from getting expelled. No one ever cares to see how he flinches from his father’s touch or the pain in his eyes when new bruises form across his body. Because they don’t care. But Haley. Haley cared and her love had been her one and only rebellion.

Jessica had been the sort to fall for the beauty of rebellion, not Haley. Her first boyfriend had been a biker, a senior who would break her heart. Rolling with anger at her father’s words, that she might be too young to know anything about love, had fallen head over heels for a girl in her biology class. And while she hadn’t given a thing to her senior ex-boyfriend of three months, she gave everything to that girl. Sarah Halls with her bright brown eyes and soft blonde hair. Which had effectively taken much of the heat off of Haley and Aaron. While that had not been the intended outcome, Jessica hadn’t minded taking it for his little sister. She’d found it entirely worth it when Sarah broke up with her a year and a half later. Which, to a heartbroken sixteen-year-old, had been everything. Years and years to which she could never get back. So she did what broken people do and spiraled into every self-destructive tendency she could think, that she could buy.

And Aaron had found her. Sweet Aaron with those thoughtless brown eyes and haggard discoloration over his exhausted face. She had slapped him when he first attempted to collect her. Sloppy drunk, high, and convinced that the world should just end right here. This misery she felt unmoving and forever. Despite what could be assumed about his body beneath those oversized sweaters, old and worn year-round, he is strong. While she kicked, crying, and distraught, he had lifted her into his arms and taken her. One arm under her legs and the other braced against her back. Not so much as a blink, not a frown, or scowl of pain. He had simply looked to Haley, waiting for her to direct him. Slowly, shocked by both of them, Haley had opened the car door and allowed Aaron to place Jessica in.

She’d never forget that night. The way he’d crouched on the floor in front of her bed and wiped her make-up away while Haley held her. His eyes, she discovered, were not unseeing. Darkened with his focus, she could see every thought cross through his mind. The kind, gentle strokes of the rag in his hand over her nose and across her lips. Loving.

“Aaron?”

He had startled as if expecting her to be past the point of cohesiveness. She knew, later, he hadn’t even known that she knew his name. What had she called him in the months since Haley brought him home? Had she ever really looked at him? Allowed herself to even think about learning to love him with even a fraction of the devotion Haley has? Now, those eyes darting between hers, he hums. As he often does.

Gently, slowly (with the same apprehension she’d watched Haley show each time she reached for him) Jessica places her clammy palm to his cheek. He stiffens beneath her fingertips but doesn’t avert his gaze or move to pull away. “Thank you,” she whispers, dragging her fingers against his cheeks. Here, she can see more than she needs to. The deep scar on his cheek and another that runs with his jaw. How each movement of the rag moves the sleeves on his shirt just enough to allow her a hint of what lies beneath. The skin of his wrist raised. Scarred.

She looks back at his face. Haley and Aaron may only be slightly younger than her but they seem like babies here. Now. “I’ll still kill you if you hurt my baby sister,” she whispers, closing her eyes with a smile. She hears his soft puffing laughter as if a hand in his chest squeezes his lungs tightly to stop any real noise. And she realizes she’s never heard him laugh. Real, deep, unhinged. Haley squeezes her stomach and she’s pulled back to them.

When Haley is sixteen and Aaron seventeen (Jessica nineteen and struggling through the second and last year of college), his father dies. Mopping up her tears with a coffee-stained napkin, Jessica’s attention had quickly been turned upside down. How could she waste her worries on Sociology when all she can see is Aaron's skinny little wrists and the scars on his face. The bruises up and down his back. Skeletal, sweet Aaron. She returns home as quickly as she can. Though she out-right refuses it the first time, her best friend gives her money for the bus fare. Her father could not spare her the money. She’s only in college because of a scholarship, they just have the money to spare. No matter how many times Haley called, voice thick with tears, and promising things were okay there at home could Jessica stand to believe her. So she took the money.

She arrived back to their silent quaint town on Tuesday to find Aaron had been in the hospital since Saturday. Refusing to eat or move. Restrained like an animal. She might have thrown a fit. Maybe she should have. The nurses stand at the doors of the intensive care unit and inform her that the floor has strict rules. That Haley can not come back. They don’t allow minors onto the floor but had they not broken that very rule allowing Aaron in? So, why not let the rules slip one more time? For Haley, for Aaron, unless they really want to watch that boy die. Is that what they want? And still, they declined her. Sensing the end of the nurse’s patience Jessica had pulled herself together and succumbed. Fine, yes, she’ll go back. Just her.

And there he is. Sweet Aaron. With those eyes and the bruises. The hospital gown leaves nothing to the imagination. She’s nineteen and he’s seventeen. Children. Too young for the pain of life and the coil of death. It isn’t until this moment that she realizes she loves him. There had been a time when she thought it was even crazy that she might love Haley. So, she’d been startled and hesitant with the idea of being inclined to love Haley’s future spouse. And it would not matter if Haley and Aaron broke-up today, she would still love him. As she suspects Haley would too. Because Aaron is a fighter and there’s something about him that just draws you in. Perhaps it’s the surprise he exhibits when you’re kind to him. Taken aback by gentleness and love. Never understanding how you might have come to love his thoughtfulness. Him.

“What are you doing?” The room is silent. There is no need for a heart monitor, just the IV fluids snaking into the back of his hand. Her father had told her about the doctor’s threatening an NG tube which, at seventeen, he doesn’t have the legal authority to deny. So, if this tirade of his goes on he’ll have to suffer through the procedure. But she knows not to waste her time on a speech about his actions and their consequences. Aaron isn’t stupid.

The moons of distress under his dark eyes look daunting on his handsome face. He’d grown into his body while she was away and it had made her proud to see. Her mother’s apple pies had done wonders for him. Having a steady place to come home to, even if it’s the couch in their living room, had transformed him. Now, he takes a moment to understand her. All the weight he’d put on melted right back off. “I’m tired,” he answers. It requires a breath that pulls his shoulders to his ears. His thin, pale lips parting.

She wants to scream at him. Of course, you’re tired! When was the last time you ate? The last night you slept through? But she looks back at those eyes, little mirrors filled with tears, and she leans down and kisses his forehead. It requires no thought, no hesitation to pull him to her. To wrap her arms around him. He pushes his head against her chest, face pressed into her sweater. “I’m sorry,” he whispers thickly. And with her eyes closed, she apologies too. For not coming back sooner. For not being here when they needed her.

“I know,” she answers, running her fingers through the back of his hair. He sleeps and she stays right there. He wakes a few times. Mouth too dry to speak but those dark eyes are always seeing. Always taking in every bit of information he can. She doesn’t leave. Sometimes she’s reading from textbooks. Stalking around the end of his bed with a phone in her hand, angrily speaking to whoever it is on the other end of the line. He looks up and finds her sleeping a lot. Her long legs pulled onto the chair with her and he wished he could move. Find the strength to wake her and move her to the bed.

His mother never comes. Sean calls but it’s bitter and Jessica can see how upset Aaron is getting so she hastens it’s end. Those calls stop coming when Jessica can properly defend that they only make him worse. Proof that getting better isn’t linear even though she wishes for it to be. She just wants Monday when he eats a snack and laughs at her silly joke for Wednesday to come and him still to be light. Not wrapped like a tight coil, arms around his stomach and crying in pain. But health isn’t linear and Aaron has never done anything the easy way.

Three months. For three months after his father’s death, Aaron sits in that hospital. He spends a month in the ICU and two more in general. Seeing Haley both helps and impedes. Jessica finds herself parenting the both of them. Leading Haley to show her when Aaron needs them to step in versus when it’s just best to leave him to his own devices. Because it looks cruel but he needs the silence. Slowly, he finds his feet once again but he’s fallen behind in school and if he wants to graduate on time he’ll have to spend all summer making it up.

But that wasn’t the problem with Virginia summer’s.

“Aren’t you hot?”

Wearing his signature long sleeve, Aaron goes without comment to help Roy dig the ponds up. He hasn’t spoken since being released but he didn’t speak too much before. It’s hardly noticeable to anyone but Jessica and Haley but they both have their own problems to attend to. Jessica is once again taking their heat with her larger news: she’s dropping out of college. So, Aaron’s silence has taken the back burner.

Looking down at his clothed arms, Aaron shakes his head. Continues digging.

Jessica looks up from the porch, waiting for the moment she needs to step in. Legs outstretched on the wooden swing, Jessica looks at the words on her book but takes nothing in. She’s pretending to read. Her father pushes Aaron some more. Offering a tank top or even just a white t-shirt.

“It’s too hot for all that nonsense,” Roy comments, motioning to Aaron’s worn sweater.

Before Aaron can even start doing his rapid, panicked blinking Jessica clears her throat from the porch. “Stop patronizing him, dad.”

Roy huffs but lays off.

For that exact moment, she’s the hero but she’s just a coward. Too afraid to allow the conversation on. Perhaps she should have let her father push him a little more. Make Aaron realize what he’s doing to himself. What he’s doing to all of them. Things aren’t what they used to be. He’s not alone. Can’t he see that?

No. He can’t see that. What he sees is a family he’s not a part of. Painfully reminded around every twist and turn just how alone he is. On Christmas the traditions of theirs that he stumbles over. He’s never decorated a Christmas tree or baked an apple pie. Haley does it without blinking, smiling to encourage him along but he just doesn’t know.

They change. He graduates on time and a year later she does too. With Jessica right there, always encouraging, and positive they both go to college. Haley falls for the science of psychology and Aaron falls head over heels for political science.

For four years its as if that boy never existed. He gets a second wind. A new chance.

But the damage is there and habits are so hard to beat.

Haley comes home early from class. Tuesdays usually mean her days don’t end until nearly seven at night. She’s got study hall and a sophomore that she tutors in Chemistry. Today, the kid had canceled their appointment, and the snow forced her home. Coming in, she’d been excited to find his coat already on the rack. Eagerly she’d torn through their tiny apartment to find him. He wasn’t in the kitchen, despite that being his favorite room in the house. He seems to always be making something, perpetually hungry. The living room had his things, briefcase open, and papers a mess. He can’t seem to think in clean rooms, always has to dirty them up. Their room was barren, not even his half of the bed disturbed. Leaving the bathroom.

Knocking against the solid door, she eases the doorknob open when he doesn’t call out. “Aaron?” Something deep had ached in her chest when she saw the living room. The papers wrong or maybe his shoes discarded almost looking tripped over? Desperate. The apartment felt desolate, cold. Stepping in her breath catches in a gasp, “Aaron!” Sinking to her knees beside the tub, she pulls him up. Moving his face from where he’s so dangerously allowed it to sink into the warmth of the water. Clutched in his hand, submerged beneath the water, a single bottle of Advil.

He’d bought it only two weeks ago. She’d been there, right beside him. Budgeting has been hard and she could see the apprehension in his face when they’d stopped near the aisle. She had mistaken it for fear that they didn’t have the money to waste on something like Advil and now she can’t help but wonder if he’d wondered something else. Would Advil be painless? How fast would it be? But she’d taken his hand and squeezed it, reassuring him a bottle of Advil would be okay. He was getting headaches, bad ones. She assumed he was just too worried to admit he needed them. She hadn’t thought he was suicidal but when has she ever been able to hear the thoughts racing through his mind?

“Aaron,” she runs her knuckles across his sternum. No. No, she hadn’t thought he was suicidal but had she ever really thought he was okay? Don’t be stupid, she’d think, as she sat in the library late at night. Reading books, consuming every bit of knowledge she could obtain without ever admitting to herself that maybe, just maybe the man she’s loved since she was fifteen might be suicidal. Not Aaron who lights up rooms and loves picnics and, on more than one occasion, has woken up to climb onto the roof and watch the sunrise. But maybe he’s not in love with life enough to want to stay here. “Aaron,” she calls, her clothes as soaked as his. “Wake up, baby.”

At the hospital, they give him so much medicine that she can’t even think straight. The whites of his eyes all she can see as a nurse guides Haley through what they’re doing. “It’s a seizure,” the nurse says, unwavering as she watches Aaron’s body jerk and shake. Everyone works around him but no one touches him. Simply moves things away from where he might hit them. “Tell me about him.” She puts herself between Haley and Aaron, averting Haley’s gaze so she doesn’t have to watch the staff move him. Hurt him.

Haley struggles to come up with a thing. “When we were seventeen he--he stopped eating,” Haley manages. Maybe, that will help? “He was hospitalized. He almost died.” Suddenly, all Haley wants is Jessica. Her sister to pull them out of this mess like she always does. Protecting them.

The nurse shakes her head. “No,” she clarifies. “No, tell me about him.”

About Aaron. “He loves blueberry pancakes,” she chokes, an inappropriate laugh forcing its way up. “Really loves them.” She smiles and the nurse nods, smiling too. It’s easier to think of him like this. The boy who used to climb up a tree outside her dorm to wave at her from her window. “He will make himself sick eating them.” His childhood had been so bleak, so bland. He’d known only oatmeal as a breakfast food. The first time her mother made them, he’d eaten so many he had been sick and she’d sat right by his side rubbing his back. “Still,” she adds with a shake of her head. “To this day, twenty years old and he still makes himself sick eating blueberry pancakes. Like--” she starts to cry. “Like he’s afraid you’ll take them away.”

Standing in that emergency room, Haley wonders how much of what she knows about Aaron is true.

“Has he tried to do this before?”

He wants to be a lawyer. A better man than his father putting away the bad guys and fixing the system. He’ll never graduate. No one wants a suicidal lawyer. She’s torn between morals. He’s spent the last few years fighting for this and this one silly mistake could unravel it all. Just a silly mistake. “No,” she chokes. “No, he’s not-- he’s not suicidal. He gets migraines.” She looks up from the tiled floor. “He had a migraine. That’s all. He forgot how many he took and I wasn’t there. I should have been there. He was just confused. I told him to take a bath. Really, he was just confused. That’s all.” Haley had never been good at lying.

They leave her, after that, perhaps having realized they won’t get anything from her. The truth will not come from her, not today. She ignores the tired look they give her when she asks for a note to give Aaron’s professors. So that she can get his work or maybe just make sure he’s not being too penalized. And again, as the doctor signs, he asks if Aaron’s ever done anything like this. “This--this accident.” And she knows exactly what he’s doing. Trying to guide her to the right answer. Her answer is solid. No. Never. And she leaves him to go sit with Aaron.

The nurses come in and out. Looking but never saying. They move over his body and he lets them so long as she is there. Within reach and she always is. She finds magazines and books and spends too much of her time convincing herself that if he’d meant it, she would have noticed. That everyone else is wrong. If the signs are there then it’s not that hard to notice! Fuck this cognitivie dissonance. She’s smart. She would see.

Right?

He’s just smoking more because he’s stressed out.

Normal college students struggle to balance a sleep schedule.

Aaron is always withdrawn.

He’s moody because he’s not sleeping.

These signs aren’t meant for him. They mean nothing. And she repeats it again and again until she starts to believe it. The signs don’t mean anything.

Now, she stands with her back to Aaron. Her arms crossed on her chest, finding the courage to dare them to question her. What lie will she conjure for the fresh cuts on his arm? Not even healed. Probably done last night in the bathroom with the kit he taped to the bottom of the sink. With the razors she pretends not to see wrapped in toilet paper. But she’s afraid to say something. They’ve been together for half a decade and he’s only just now started sleeping without a shirt. Only just allowed her to see his body. The cuts and the scars both from his own hand and his father’s.

But they don’t say anything. Perhaps it’s too taboo but no one says anything.

The signs mean nothing. He smokes because he always has. He’s withdrawn because he always has been. Aaron is and always has been these signs. So, he’s fine.

He’s fine.

They get married at the end of the next semester. He’s had months to recover but the body isn’t so quick to forgive. His voice is rough from where they had to intubate him for so long but the therapist all assure them that with time his voice will lose its rasp and he’ll sound like himself again. His classmates poke at him for his “time-off” and he’d prefer they think him a spoiled brat off partying than what he really is. A disaster. One misstep away from trying again.

He never voices this. He doesn’t tell the therapists or Haley.

“I want to apply to the academy.”

Marriage is not even marginally the hardest thing he’s been forced to understand. He knows what he’s doing when he makes Haley his sole beneficiary-- asides from his textbooks which he wants to go to Jessica because she’s still bitter he “wasted” himself with the bitterness of law. But marriage is easy. Giving himself is second nature. He never thinks about the little things she clings to. How he always remembers to put the seat down and cooks dinner or washes the dishes. He’s not normal.

But this sudden change of pace takes her by surprise. “The-- The academy?” At first, she thinks of films and actors and actresses. That sort of academy but bitterly, sickly she remembers how close they are to Quantico. About David Rossi & Jason Gideon, who he met two weeks ago and hasn’t stopped talking about since. There’s a flush to his face, excitement she hasn’t seen in the longest time. And she wants to say yes but she can’t be certain this isn’t some new method he’s found to hurt himself.

He nods, shoveling corn and green beans into his mouth. Happy, she realizes. He’s happy.

“It’ll be in the fall so I’d have a few more months left with the District Attorney.”

No. She wants to say no so badly. The last thing they need is a gun. As if she doesn’t already check the knives over, counting and recounting the razors he uses to shave. Convinced he’ll try again. But she can’t say no because she doesn’t have a good reason. They’re financially stable. She’s working at a school only down the street and joining the academy won’t be taxing. It’ll be a bit of a money cut but he’s not making bank with the DA anyhow. He’s too smart to fail the courses but, as twisted as she knows it is, she thinks he’ll get hung up. He’ll need a physical and have to pass psych evaluations. There’s no way they let him through.

“Okay,” she decides, returning back to dinner. It kills her to see him smirk and celebrate while she sits certain that they won’t allow him in. There she plans what she will do to protect him of the recoil. Of what will, undoubtedly, occur. A safety net that he can fall into.

But the call comes and the cake she’d been making-- vanilla with rainbow sprinkles and blueberry pancakes cooling by it’s side-- to console him turns into a celebratory one. He’s done it. Training and evals, passed. Made records won awards. She’s got herself one hell of a federal agent.

Jessica comes down, smiling and with a bag in hand. She hates this development nearly as much as Haley but is much better at hiding it. “Look at you,” Jessica mumbles in amazement. She turns him over, fingers finding his hardened muscles through the sleeves of his sweater. Looking for something, anything to clue her in one what’s happening behind his dark eyes but all she sees is happiness and she can’t help but wonder how long that will last. “You were nothing but a scrawny kid and they’ve turned you into a man and a half.”

There it is, that half-strangled puff of laughter. He smiles, dimples, and chin, and whole face. A man, she is reminded, not that fifteen-year-old prone to drinking in the woods and getting knocked down in the halls. He quit smoking that month and Haley did too. For once, he started taking care of himself. Not as if he never had before but suddenly there were just things he did that he had never before.

He stopped cutting. Which had been harder than losing the cigarettes. She only noticed in passing and could never really pride him on the achievement. Never draw attention to it. But she’d see the scabs healing when he wrapped an arm around her bare hips. Eventually, there were no scabs. Only scars.

“I love you,” she reminds him because she’s not sure if this will last.

And his eyes always twinkle just a little when she says it. Pleasantly surprised each time. “I love you too.”

He gets posted in Seattle and as they’re preparing for the move she watches him closely. As it turns out, she’s the one afraid not him. The world seems to open up, right then, for him and selfishly she thinks about everything she’s just left behind. No, she realizes. It’s not selfish. She worries about him, he worries about her. She’s worried about herself and he worries about himself. It’s a balance and no good things come without a little give.

Seattles is okay.

She tutors a young boy with epilepsy that has fallen behind do to a spout of recent hospitalization. He reminds her so feverishly of Aaron that she naturally takes to him. His name is Sam and his hair is blonde and his eyes the same soft brown as Aaron’s. He’s smart and funny one day and sad and silent the next. The last decade she’s spent living at Aaron’s side has made her ambidextrous to this behaviour and she doesn’t blink.

Aaron spends his days folded into case files, not all that different from when they were in Virginia but he’s lighter. They both are. He doesn’t seem even bothered by the rain. Smiling each time he comes in soaked to the bone to chase her around, shaking the rain from his hair onto her.

One night, she rolls over and attaches herself to his back. She’s antsy and he’s an insomniac so she’s not too surprised when he tangles his fingers with hers over his stomach and hums to answer the question she hasn’t asked yet. Breath ghosting over the back of his neck, she asks, “Do you still want to have kids?”

He chuckles, turning slightly so she can see the silhouette of his nose and lips as he answers her. “Mmm, ten.” Slowly, moving her legs and twisting, he faces her. So that his forehead is against hers and kisses her. “Wanna make one?” he asks teasingly, fingers skimming the skin peaking out from under her shirt. “I hear it’s pretty easy.”

She hits him but deepens the kiss, allowing her hand to slide over his hips and squeeze his butt. It makes her laugh and he just shakes his head. “I want to talk about kids,” she reminds him, breathlessly as his hand snakes up underneath her shirt to cup her bare breast. “Not ten,” she whispers, pulling his head closer as he kisses her neck. “One or two. At least one boy.” He hums and she doesn’t even need to consider if he’s listening or not because he always is. “We could adopt.”

He smiles, placing a hand on both sides of her head, completely overtop her now. She whines a little as he sits up, extracting his body from the tangle of hers. “We could foster even more,” he offers, because he’s thought about it. “Have a few, adopt a few, and be one of those sweet old couples that fosters every kid they can find.”

She squints her eyes at him reaching up and bopping his nose. “You have a savior complex,” she whispers. Which they both know isn’t true. He’s a helper, a watcher. What else would you have him do? He’s never been one to sit by. But she thinks about it. Long after that night and later that night. When she rolled over and he’d fallen asleep in a massive tangle like he always does. This man doesn’t know how to exist without creating a mess. His desk is never neat and he can’t sleep without one half of his body stuck in the sheets.

She considers having a child exactly like him. With his exact brown eyes and those dimples. Adopting one that slowly becomes a part of them. Learning there little habits. A child with hair to dark to be Aarons but too light to be hers that like dancing around the kitchen with her and has that soft, strong way of speaking that Aaron does. Kids. With him.

They aren’t compatible.

She knows she shouldn’t have pushed when the scabs come back. It’s not bad, well… The cuts are small and low in number but she knows they’re there long before she sees them. He starts to sleep in long sleeves again. She sees them when he’s in the shower. Three or four on each arm and he’s been wearing the shirts for a month so it’s not that bad. He’s certain done worse. He’s just got a lot of pressure on him at the moment.

She lets it go.

“I haven’t had my period in a while,” she says over dinner. She told herself to wait for those cuts to heal but they never do.

He chokes on his food. He hasn’t been eating a lot and she thinks he might be smoking again. Which she would point out but she might just be paranoid. Sam got sick last week, had a seizure that she had seen, and she’s a little ashamed to admit she picked it back up to soothe herself. Unsure and unable to tell Aaron about it. How could she? It had nearly scared her from the topic of children, what would it do to him.

“How--” his voice cuts off. He doesn’t mean “how”. He knows exactly how. They talked about children and have been careless. Two scared people hoping that if they pretend to not want this with every burning fiber of their beings they might get it. He can’t remember the last time he used a condom and her birthcontrol has suddenly disappeared from the bathroom sink.

“How long?”

She puts her fork down. “Three months.” They’ve been trying twice that long. “I have a test,” she tells him, trying to hide her excitement. His eyes meet hers and she reads him like her favorite book. “I could take it.” Their lonely kitchen is filled with the sound of scraping chair the two of them fumbling to move.

“Oh.”

It’s negative.

Aaron’s mouth is dry, he doesn’t know why he’s so disappointed.

“We can keep trying,” she soothes, trying not to shake or cry. Even though she wants to throw that stupid test against the wall. Tears fall down her cheek and she looks up to see his own gather.

He shakes his head.

Jessica comes down the next week and pretends not to notice the return of the long sleeves. Aaron greets her with a smile and kisses her cheek. Telling her about everything but that test. The hope so swiftly taken from them. She takes Haley to a clinic. They count her eggs and smile, assuring her that she’s young, healthy, and her eggs are in fantastic shape. She should consider herself lucky, it should be easy for her to have children.

Easy.

Clearly, they have never met her husband.

His sperm count is low. Enough that the doctor’s face falls a little as he explains their options. It’s still possible to do this on their own but they shouldn’t be ashamed if things need a little help.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

But he is ashamed and he counts out each offense on his skin.

Sam, the boy she tutored, dies shortly after they learn all of this. His little body just couldn’t take all the stress.

Haley feels selfish but she’s glad she was no where near him when it happened.

A week later, Aaron comes home, hangs his coat on the rack and sits down on the edge of the couch. “I saw David Rossi today.” His eyes are haunted by the dark circles under them. She notices them but the people in his office never seem to. They comment his quick work and sharp mind which is why Dave had been so quick to accept him. Aaron’s curiosity has always been the brightest burning part of him. “He wants me to move back to Virginia. Take some profiling courses. Join his team.”

Aaron has read everything about the Behavioral Science Unit he can get his hands on. So, by extension, she also knows a lot about them. Every time he finds something worth excitement he finds her to recount each detail. He wants this, she knows.

She’s making muffins, trying to keep her mind off of Sam. When he tells her this, what David Rossi wants from her husband she’s furious. Fuck that man. What do they care about him? They have a life here. But… they really don��t. The lease on their apartment is ending and she keeps trying to decide if she really wants to renew it. Sam is dead. Aaron has a job opportunity.

“Do you want to move back to Virginia?” she turns, to him. Pressing her hips across the oven and watching him.

He looks down at the floor. Does he? He hadn’t really considered that. Does he want to work with David Rossi? Yes, very much so. So, he nods. “I want this,” he says.

She brushes the wet dough on her hands off on the apron on her chest and moves across the kitchen to him. Placing a hand on both sides of his face, she kisses him. “Okay,” she whispers. “Then lets go.”

David immediately loves him.

I work too slowly.

I get too attached.

I’m only good with victims.

I am not a good profiler.

But David sees that spark. The yearning for more, fire hissing and popping and Dave is eager to throw gasoline on him. To see him rise and consume them all. “You’re a bright kid,” Dave commends, one afternoon. They’re having dinner on the way home. Dave has no girlfriend or wife to call so he’s very content to get a little tipsy and let Aaron drive him home. Aaron is wondering what Haley’s doing, Dave thinks this is adorable.

“Um,” Aaron can feel a deflection on his tongue but Dave covers his hand with his own.

With far too much seriousness for a tipsy man he says, “alright. You’re next lesson is acceptance, alright? I give you a compliment and you say--” Aaron just stares back at him. “You say thank you, Dave.”

He nods his head.

Dave blinks. This goddamn kid, he swears. But he’s so enchanting, charming in his youth. Bashful but always looking, watching. Dave wants nothing more than to see him smile even more. To see him grow steady and assured in his abilities. And that it almost taken from him. A sniper in some case that feels more like a movie, something that happens to someone you’re only lightly attached to. That you gasp at but forget about in a day or two. The blood that just sprays, thick and heavy and hot. Dave’s never lost an agent.

He’s lost men but that was war. This isn’t war. It’s just profiling. His people aren’t supposed to die and the kid-- fucking Aaron, his Aaron, almost died.

“You must be David.”

Dave is sleeping in the room when she comes. A thin little thing with straw blonde hair and a very scorned looking face. Aaron has gone on and on about her. She’s beautiful and he can see, immediately, why Aaron’s so drawn to her. As stupid as it is, he smiles when he sees her. So tiny and yet drawn up like she’s ready for a fight.

“That must make you Haley.”

She hums, a habit he finds cute. Humming fits Aaron well. He’s a silent man but not Haley. Aaron had told him they had been together since they were kids, high school sweet hearts. It must be a bit of Aaron’s spite she has drawn up as she walks through the room to stand at her husband’s side. Stoic.

The worst is yet to come.

The shot had been surprisingly clean. Aaron would need a sling and to keep his arm delicately strapped to his chest to allow his shattered clavicle to repair. He wakes two hours later, to the soft hum of Haley and Dave whispering over him. He’s not coherent and he’s in pain and falls right back to sleep the moment Haley takes his hand. A softly sighed “oh” on his lips as his eyes shut and he’s gone again.

Dave doesn’t say anything about the scars. He knows about them. (Do you really think they’d let anybody into the FBI without making notes in files, annotations for men like David Rossi to read and re-read a dozen times as they consider allowing men like Aaron Hotchner onto their teams?)

“Haley?” The second time he’s distraught. Panicking. He remembers the warmth of his bath, the Advil bottle in his palm. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, just as he had when he woke the first time, all those years ago. “I won’t do it again. I’m sorry.” He remembers thinking how uncomfortable he was in the tub. How he wished he had a pillow or was shorter so at least his knees could sink in. That he could see his clothes plastered to his skin.

He mistakes her momentary confusion as disbelief and he grows agitated. Gasping in pain but twisting and pleading. “I-- I--,” his sentence is cut off by his strangled cry. He moves his hips the wrong way and his shoulder is pressed down into the mattress.

It breaks her heart just as much this time as it had last time. To see his face pinched in pain and confusion. But she is shocked in place.

Dave stands, grabbing Aaron’s unrestrained hand. His hand wrapping completely around until his finger rest against the inside of Aaron’s wrist. His hand engulfing Aaron’s. The scars moving under his touch. “You’re okay,” Dave assures him softly. He smiles, priding Aaron when he manages to whisper Dave’s name in soft shock. He pats Aaron’s cheek, “there he is. My bright boy. How are you? You okay?”

His sense come back to him. The memories slipping into place. “Hurts,” he rasps. Gradually, his body calms and he stops kicking out against nothing. “My arm hurts,” he whispers, his eyes full of tears as he looks between them. Trusting one of them will stop it. One of them will help.

Haley leans down and presses a kiss to his temple, brushing her fingers through his hair. “You’re okay sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. He hums, turning into her touch. She never calls him sweetheart.

She wipes his tears away and Dave says nothing. At that moment, she doesn’t know him to well but eventually, she’ll learn that his silence in that moment was new. Dave never shuts up. She’ll crave that silence in his company. But he’d been thinking, watching and she’d been preoccupied. He was taking in what he was seeing to stored for a later date. Though he had thought for theory not practice. How wrong he, in fact, was.

He retires a year later. Aaron and Haley are just getting the courage to try again for a kid.

When he returns he’s thoroughly surprised to find things haven’t entirely changed. The bits that have changed are encouraging.

“How much do you know?” Morgan asks him one night, a little too tipsy to be having this conversation. But he’s been sitting on it for months and he’s got to know. It’s his job to protect the team and while he and Aaron always seem to butt heads, he won’t leave him out of that equation. “About… About Hotch.”

Not Aaron, anymore. He’s a whole new person. The Unit Chief, strong stoic and up until that moment Dave had even thought hidden. His little secret tucked beneath those multi-layered suits. Evidently not if Morgan knows. “Should we be discussing this?” he asks. It’s an answer within itself. If he knows they shouldn’t be discussing it then he knows about it.

Morgan understand this. He pops a handful of nuts in his mouth, chewing them thoughtfully. “He’s important to us,” Morgan says after a long while.

Dave nods. “He’s important to me too.”

Neither fully explains where they stand. How much any given member of the team knows.

Spencer Reid isn’t stupid and even if he were, he’s not oblivious. He’s never seen the scars on the inside of his superior’s wrist. Never seen any of the scars for that matter. There’s still something about Hotch, nameless and without a good proper name, that Spencer cues in on. Self-destructive with control issues. They never talk about it. It’s safer that way.

It hurts Penelope to think about for too long. She’s seen the scars but she’d known what to look for and she’d looked. Even though she knew what she would find and knew it would hurt. Though she was never made to be the silent observing type, she doesn’t mention them. But sometimes she places little goodies in his go bag so that when he finds them he’s forced to be reminded that he’s loved.

JJ knows the signs now. She was too slow the first time. Now she wears that burden around her neck each day. There’s something so raw about Aaron Hotchner but she doesn’t think he’s suicidal, not anymore at least. Maybe in another life, at a different time. Today, tomorrow, yesterday… he’s okay. But she’ll keep vigil. She watches.

Though Emily hates his guts when she first arrived, she’s found herself close to his side over the course of the last few months. Enough to know more about him than the others. Maybe not because he tells her but because she’s simply there and it’s hard to hide things once you allow someone else that close.

The divorce doesn’t come by too big of a surprise.

Neither does Haley’s reaction.

“I need to ask you to do something for me,” Haley whispers.

JJ is rocking Henry when Will comes in with the phone and she’s honestly surprised it’s taken Haley this long to get around to her. “Haley,” she responds, wondering if Haley is out there someplace rocking Jack. “You know you don’t have to ask.” JJ and Haley had gotten along great when JJ first joined. JJ was the only girl on the team and Haley knows how Hotch can be.

“He doesn’t mean it, honest.” Haley had defended. Referencing Hotch’s more elusive if not silent nature.

JJ had brushed it off, “oh no. He’s a sweetheart.” And was and still is. He very well was probably the only person who didn’t give her a hard time.

“I know Aaron isn’t taking… all of this well.” That is an understatement. He’s not doing anything drastic but starving away in his office running on caffeine and random sandwiches one of them forces him to eat isn’t thriving. “Can you just look after him? I would-- you know I would but we can’t do this--this balance if I am always there to catch him. That doesn’t change anything.”

JJ closes her eyes, leaning her face down to Henry. Allowing the soft scent of baby and lotion to soothe the anger and pain she feels swelling up. “You know I will,” she promises. “He’ll be okay, Haley. We’ll get him through this.” The call ends shortly after that. Haley asks about Henry and JJ about Jack. And the two part. It’s better that way.

The divorce is the easy part.

Foyet attacks and nine new scars find their way on his body and suddenly they all know that those aren’t the ones they need to worry about.

“Emily, Em--Emily.” She’s sleeping in his guest room, curled under the warm sheets. A cat, he thinks dizzily, as she stretches and hums sleepy at him. Arching her back and stretching her back and arms out like he’s seen plenty of street cats do. The kind that aren’t bothered when you come marching through their alley.

She winces at the light but finds him. The apprehension on his pained face and the dark, wet rag he’s holding with his left hand over his right.

“I-- There was-- It was an accident,” he stumbles.

The wet rag she realizes is soaked in his blood. Crimson. She wakes quickly, suddenly cold. Throwing the blankets off her legs. He just stands in the doorway, leaning heavily to the side. “What did you do?” she demands, afraid to look and see. Afraid to see. She covers his hand with hers, pressing against the wound. Her mind turns this over slowly. His blood dropping in fat drops by their feet. “You have to go to the hospital.”

His eyes flash with something but she knows it’s not remorse for what he’s done. “It was on accident,” he rasps. “I’m sorry.”

She knows. “To the hospital,” she instructs, guiding him through the dark hall. He’s dazed, clearly confused. It takes her a moment to wrap his coat around his shoulder. “Hold it,” she mumbles, wrapping his fingers back around his wrist. Then she’s shoving her own feet into shoes not thinking twice about the fact that they’re both in pajamas and she in shorts. “Aaron,” she stands back up and he’s loosened his hold. The way she says his name shocks him. “Put fucking pressure on it.”

She steers him to the car, guiding him by his hips. By the time she moves to the driver’s seat he’s pressed his head to the door’s cold window, turned a nasty grey color. “Aaron,” she shakes him roughly. Paying no mind to the wounds on his chest that haven’t healed. “Stay awake.” She’s not going to loose him like this. She hits him several more times, it’s one jarring him back to life. She knows she’s hit a few bruises and not healed places on his body but he’s slipping and he’s not going to die in her passenger seat.

“You’re a goddamn idiot.” she seethes. They’re outside the emergency room. She’s pulling his thin grasshopper like legs out of the car, grunting when the rest of him comes with them. His head finds her shoulder and she stops, holding him there for just a second as they both collect themselves. “Are you okay?” she asks softly. The first truly kind thing she’s had to say all night. He nods. “Okay,” she pats his back. “Come on, jackass, we’ve got plenty more fighting to do.”

They won’t let her back with him which she almost hopes causes a scene. But Hotch goes listlessly into the wheelchair and silently allows them to take him away. He doesn’t fight. Which is worse than if he’d begged them to let her come. But he goes, his bloody rag in his lap. Head tilted resting against his chest.

She calls Morgan first. He tells her not to call anyone else. It’s two in the morning and they need the sleep. He’ll be there in twenty minutes. He’s there in ten and when he sees her sitting there he doesn’t say a word, just wraps his coat around her bare arms. They sit, shoulder-to-shoulder, neither saying anything for a long time.

Eventually, he can’t stand the silence. “Did he do it on purpose?” Morgan asks.

She shrugs. She doesn’t know. “He said he was sorry.” The raspy quality of her own voice surprises her. Looking down at her hands, she scratches at her nails. Frowning at the blood she pulls up. They all do things they shouldn’t. He just… It wasn’t on purpose. It wouldn’t… He wouldn’t…

“Emily Prentiss?”

She looks up, surprised to find a nurse standing there. How long have they been sitting here? Not saying a thing. Just thinking. Assuming the worst. “Yes?” She stands, suddenly too aware of how silly she must look. Her night shirt covered in blood and in shorts that show all of her legs and-- only after looking down-- does she realize she’s wearing a pair of Hotch’s shoes.

“Mr. Hotchner is very dehydrated. We’re going to keep him here for the night. You can come back, if you’d like. He asked for you.”

She glances back at Morgan and then at the nurse. “I want to but,” she motions to Morgan, “can we both go?” She can see the hesitation wash over the nurse. “You can ask Hotch-- Agent Hotchner. His name is Derek, Hotch won’t mind.”

The nurse caves with a nod and motions for them to follow her.

He’s in a section marked off by curtain. Asleep with his heavily bandaged hand curled on his chest and the other by his side. They’ve bandaged both, the left with a few bandages versus the heavy gauze of the right. He sleeps but it’s not deep no more than the shallow naps he’s been getting lately.

Emily moves to his left side and waits for the nightmare she know will grip him.

“He didn’t… He wasn’t trying to, was he?”

Emily rubs her thumb his knuckles. “Morgan?” If he was, would he have come to get her? Would he have covered the wound himself, first? Trying to stop the blood on his own? Morgan looks up. “You can’t talk about it. Promise me, you won’t ask him about it.” That would kill him.

Morgan stands in the corner, arms crossed on his chest. “Will you talk to him about it?”

She doesn’t want to. “Yes.” But someone has to.

“If he does it again--”

Emily cuts him off with a scowl. “He won’t.”

Morgan breaks a little, sadden by how vehemently she believes this. “Okay,” he caves. “Okay.”

He does.

#tw mental health #tw food #tw self destructive behavior #tw hospital #tw suicide #tw suicide attempt #tw cutting #tw abuse #jessica brooks #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #haley hotchner #david rossi #spencer reid #derek morgan #jennifer jareua #penelope garcia #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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blakegallo · 2 years

Note

Please don’t leave Monte, they already made Haley leave. I’m loving your Buck and Taylor content, please don’t stop making it.

i don't really think that i'll be leaving anytime soon [ namely bc there is still one set request sitting in my inbox that i definitely want to fill ]. i'm just going to continue my little mini hiatus until the new year and just kinda lurk as i keep my queue going.

this season [ of 911 ] has just been weird for me as i haven't agreed with like 99% of the takes or theorycrafting that happened after every episode... and curating the space wasn't as easy as i thought it would be. i've swung back and forth on having accounts blocked to make the experience more pleasant and that has only helped a marginal degree.

i dunno. i've definitely watched shows and been at least semi-invested in the fandom side of said show on tumblr and not shipped what was popular, but it's rarely felt this draining or required this much effort to not see...

and if it was just trying to avoid bucktaylor hate it would be one thing... but it's trying to dodge that and bad takes about the season opener and howie hate and it's just...

i'm old.

shoutout to the bucktaylor discord tho. i feel like i'm in there sporadically, but y'all made watching the last half of the season the best.

#monte does life #answered #anonymous

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rafael-silva · 4 years

Text

At First Glance: a buddie fic

Buck had no idea that the next call would hit so close to home. Too close. And that it would knock him off balance, in more ways than one.

Buck has his past locked behind a door but a call with a little boy unexpectedly rips that door wide open and brings it all rushing back. Eddie helps Buck through it, and Buck opens up to Eddie about his past, his parents and the years before he joined the Fire Academy.

Plus, the first time Eddie calls Buck Evan.

a/n: okay so! I saw a post on @buckleystrand‘s blog on different situations where Eddie calls Buck ‘Evan’ for the first time and I developed this with haley! and then I got an idea for a second part and THEN developed it more and thought of a third part, so this is going to be lengthy and I am excited!

tags: hurt/comfort, panic attack, angst, buck’s past, kid fic, team as family, hand holding, buck is so strong and brave, not-good-fathers

It had started out as a normal shift. Laid back, even. The crew had gotten a few calls but none of them were hard to handle, and Hen and Chimney were called out with the ambulance a couple of times for minor injuries and easily took care of them and were back just in time for lunch. Eddie and Buck had helped Bobby in the kitchen with their lunch preparations; some salads and simple yet delicious sandwiches, while Hen and Chim were out.

Buck had no idea that the next call would hit so close to home. Too close. And that it would knock him off balance, in more ways than one.

And he wasn’t prepared for it.

*****

The bell goes off right as the crew had finished lunch. Pushing their chairs back and quickly getting to their feet, they’re by the engine and getting their turnout pants and coats on in a matter of seconds. They jump in and race towards the scene.

Athena’s police cruiser is pulling up the two story house just as the engine comes to a stop in front of the front yard. Bobby hops out, already giving Buck and Eddie orders and meeting his wife halfway.

“You were called too?”

Athena nods. “Multiple 911 calls were made from his house over the past few weeks, the line stays open for about ten seconds, with no one saying anything, before hanging up. Wanted to see what’s really happening here.”

Bobby nods, and surveys the house in front of him. “Eddie, Buck, gear up, you’re going in. Do a preliminary search and get anyone out. Stay on the radios and keep me updated, we’ll lift the arial but the window for assistance and we’ll be ready to hose it down.”

“On it, Cap,” Eddie nods.

He and Buck swiftly lift their oxygen tanks, holstering them on their shoulders and securing them. They wear their masks and grab their axes, making their way towards the front door.

Eddie tries the knob but it doesn’t budge. He steps aside for Buck to kick it in, which he easily does.

“Fire and rescue, call out!” Eddie yells as he steps into the house and starts following the smoke.

But repeats his best friend’s words and follows him.

“Who called it in?” Bobby asks.

“Neighbor,” Athena points to a lady standing nearby, “she saw the flames coming from the bedroom,” she then points to the room overlooking the street.

“Do you know who lives here?” Bobby walks over to the neighbor.

She nods. “A father and his son, about eight. But I don’t see them often. They tend to keep to themselves. Well, the father tends to keep the boy away from everyone.”

And on cue, the father emerges from the side of the house, presumably from the backyard. His eyes are wide at seeing the firefighters and Athena.

“Sir? Sir,” Bobby jogs over to him. “Are you alright? Were you inside the house?”

“Yeah, I was in the backyard, what’s going on?” His eyes widen more when he looks up and sees the flames, now engulfing the curtains.

“You mean to tell us you didn’t notice the fire inside your home? And that is was your neighbor that had to call it in?” Athena asks in her unimpressed tone.

“I was in the backyard on a business call, there was no fire when—Jake, where’s Jake?”

“Your son?”

“Yeah, I left him upstairs. He was playing on his iPad,” he replies and immediately tries running towards the busted front door, only to be stopped by Bobby.

“I can’t let you go in there,” Bobby says.

“My son is inside!”

“And my guys are on it,” Bobby responds. “Which room was he in?”

“In his room, on the other side of the house, that’s my bedroom on fire!”

Bobby grabs his radio and presses down. “Eddie, Buck, how’s the search going? I have the father with me here and reports that there is a boy on the second floor, last known position North East bedroom.”

“Negative, Cap,” Eddie radios back. “That room is clear. Buck cleared the rest of the floor, we’re heading to the South East bedroom now.”

“What was he doing in my bedroom?” The father mumbles under his breath, clearly irritated by the information. “He knows he’s not allowed in there.”

He says it in a loud enough voice that Bobby and Athena catch it and share a look.

Inside, Eddie follows the smoke and finds Buck working on the bedroom door, which swings wide open and a large puff of smoke escapes into the hallway.

“LA fire and rescue! Call out!” Buck yells and waits. Before he yells again, he hears a small cough coming from somewhere around the bed.

“Eddie,” Buck taps Eddie’s shoulder and points towards the bed.

“Go, I’m right behind you,” Eddie nods.

“Fire and rescue,” Buck repeats, in a much calmer tone.

Another cough.

Buck points to the bed, telling Eddie the noise is coming from under it.

Eddie nods again.

Buck slowly approaches the area, getting to his knees and taking a peak under the bed.

He finds the little boy curled by the wall, his ocean blue eyes wide and scared and face covered with black ash. And it breaks Buck’s heart.

“Hey, buddy,” Buck says, hoping it's not too muffled by the mask. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

The boy doesn’t respond.

Buck’s now lying on his stomach on the wooden floor and slowly begins extending his arm towards the boy. The boy shrinks back further towards the wall, getting more out of Buck’s reach.

“I need to get you out of here, bud,” Buck says. “I need to make sure you’re okay.”

The boy remains silent.

While Buck has been talking to the boy, Eddie had grabbed a few blankets and managed to put out some of the fire around them. Sensing his presence back at his side, Buck turns to look at Eddie and shakes his head.

Eddie grabs his radio. “Cap, we found the boy. But he’s hiding under the bed and he’s scared. Buck’s talking to him now. I managed to get some of the fire under control but it’s still spreading.”

“Copy, Eddie,” Bobby replies. “Sending fire extinguishers until you clear the room.”

“Copy, Cap.”

“I know you’re scared, little man, I would be, too. But I promise you’re going to be okay,” Buck tells the boy.

With no response, Buck pulls back and goes to remove his mask.

“Buck, what are you doing?” Eddie quickly asks, seeing Buck’s movement to remove his mask.

“I think the mask isn’t helping, I think he needs to see my face,” Buck answers. “And breathing isn’t so bad.”

“Don’t push yourself,” Eddie pleads.

Buck nods and goes back into his previous position, lying on his stomach. “Is this better, buddy?”

For the first time, the little boy actually looks at Buck. He seems to relax a little bit at seeing the firefighter’s unmasked face.

“I know, bud, I think it’s better, too. I’m here to help you, and to make sure you’re okay.”

The boy seems to start gravitating towards Buck, but Buck’s next words don’t help matters.

“That’s it, come on, buddy. Your dad is waiting for you outside,” Buck says.

At the mention of his dad, the little boy’s eyes widen again and he pulls back the small distance he had moved forward. And that look, the look of absolute fear drawn on this little boy’s face, Buck knows that looks, knows it all-too well. He’s seen it in the mirror.

His heart drops and a wide burning pit is slashed opened wide in his stomach.

He frowns, moving to look at Eddie.

“What?” Eddie asks.

Buck doesn’t reply, instead, he shifts his attention back to the boy.

Eddie doesn’t have time to ask again because he hears his name being called from the window that isn’t on fire.

“Eddie!”

He quickly goes and grabs the two fire extinguishers and puts them to use, clouding the room with white smoke and putting out the fire.

Taking a deep breath, Buck manages to push his mask under the bed. “Can you do me a favor, bud? Can you take a deep breath for me? We don’t have to move right away, but I need you to breathe for me,” Buck says, not wanting to rush the boy and to calm him down.

Ever so slowly, the boy reaches his arm and takes the mask, doing as Buck asked.

“Good, good,” Buck says as he watches. “I can make a deal with you, how does that sound?”

The boy nods, his blue eyes not leaving Buck’s own.

“I’ll get you out of here, and I’ll stay with you until we get to the hospital. I won’t leave you alone, I promise.”

Something in Buck’s voice, and in Buck’s eyes, made it easier for the little boy to trust Buck. To move towards him again, both physically and mentally.

“P-promise?” The little boy asks, his voice so small, Buck would have missed it if he hadn’t been concentrating and waiting for it.

“I promise, buddy. I’m Buck, what’s your name?”

“I’m Jake.”

“Hi, Jake,” Buck smiles. “I got you, okay?” He extends his hand.

After a few moments of hesitation, Jake’s hand grazes Buck’s and holds onto it.

“That’s it, bud,” Buck encourages Jake and slowly begins helping him out from under the bed.

Buck places his mask over Jake’s face and holds him close.

Jake wraps his arms around Buck’s neck and buries his face against Buck’s turnout coat.

“I got you, Jake, I got you,” Buck reassures the boy, holding him tightly and looking at Eddie.

“Let’s go,” Eddie nods. “We’re coming out, Cap.”

Bobby orders for the water hose and the crew and Athena watch as Eddie and Buck exit the house, the blond cradling the boy against his chest.

“Jake!” The father runs towards the firefighters but Jake shuts his eyes at hearing his dad’s voice, holding onto Buck tighter.

“I got you,” Buck whispers and puts on a straight face, moves past the father, and he keeps moving forward, even when the father yells after him.

“Hey, hey! Give me my son!” The father screams in an aggressive tone.

“I’m sorry, sir, Jake needs to be checked out by our paramedics first,” Buck says, not turning to look at him and heading towards the ambulance.

Bobby frowns at the exchange and notices how firmly the boy is holding onto Buck. “Sir, I’m going to ask you to step back, give us room to work.” He then turns to Athena and whispers, “something isn’t right.”

She nods, and senses she’s starting to understand those 911 calls. She watches closely as Buck hands Jake over to Hen, Jake not letting go at first but Buck says something that lets Jake’s grip on him loosen.

“Don’t let his father come close,” Buck whispers to Hen. He then looks at Athena and she understands his eyes.

“We have to take him to the hospital to get checked out,” Hen says, looking at Buck.

“I’ll go with him,” the father jumps at saying, his anxiety and nerves showing through his body language.

“Actually,” Eddie speaks, having noticed everything that went down, both inside the house and outside. “He has to go to the hospital, too,” he points at Buck. “He took off his mask to give Jake oxygen so he needs a check up, too.”

Buck gives Eddie a small, thankful nod.

“Can’t he just, go to the hospital in the firetruck?”

“That’s against protocol,” Bobby says, “he needs to go in the ambulance.”

The father sighs, annoyed. “Fine. I’ll follow in my car.” He turns on his heels and leaves without any further words.

“I’ll meet you at the hospital,” Athena tells Buck as he climbs into the back of the ambulance.

Buck nods and sits back.

Jake moves closer to Buck and Buck gently wraps his arm around the boy's shoulder as Hen places an oxygen mask over Jake’s face.

“Deep breaths, buddy,” Buck says.

They get to the hospital ten minutes later, Athena right behind them.

Buck stays close as Hen wheels Jake into the ER and relays information to the doctor and nurse. Jake looks at Buck and Buck smiles at him.

Athena comes to a halt next to Buck. “I’ll stay with him.”

“Thank you,” Buck replies.

“He’s really freaked out and his dad, the way he reacted to him…”

“I know, Buck. I’ll look into it, see what the doctors say after looking him over.”

“And his father?”

“I’ll keep him away.”

Buck nods. “Please keep me updated.”

“I will,” Athena promises.

“Hey, buddy,” Buck steps into the room, Athena on his heels. “Are you feeling better?”

Jake nods.

“That’s good. Listen, I need to get back to work, but this is my friend, Athena, and she’s going to stay with you,” Buck explains. “She won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

Jake thinks for a few moments. “Promise?”

Buck smiles. “I promise.”

Soon, after getting checked out himself and getting the all-clear, Buck hops back into the ambulance and they head back to the firehouse.

The only thing on his mind during the ride is Jake.

*****

Buck jumps out of the ambulance and doesn’t say a word as he mindlessly walks up the stairs where Bobby is sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone. He looks up when he spots Buck, followed by Hen and Chim, walking into his line of sight.

“How’s the little boy?” The Captain asks.

“Hanging in there,” Hen replies. “He’s shaken up, Athena is staying with him.”

Bobby nods and turns to look at Buck, who has moved away from the crew and sat himself on the dining table. “And Buck?” He asks in a lower voice.

Chim shrugs. “Hasn’t said a word.”

“Let’s keep an eye on him, it wasn’t an easy call. And the way the little boy was holding onto him…”

Bobby had no idea how hard that call was for Buck.

“For sure, Cap,” Hen replies.

“Where’s Eddie?” Chim asks, looking around.

“Checking the oxygen tanks,” Bobby responds.

As planned, they keep their eyes on Buck. He mostly stays distant and stays silent, which is starting to worry them because both those things are so unlike Buck. But they don’t want to bombard him either, they want to give him space and hope for the best.

Until ten minutes later, when Buck drops his phone on the table and violently pushes his chair back, resting his elbows on his thighs and dropping his face into his palms.

“Buck?” Bobby frowns, getting to his feet and walking towards the younger man. “Buck, you okay?”

Buck doesn’t respond.

Bobby shares concerned looks with Hen and Chim as they stand next to him.

“His breathing is elevated, his shoulders are tense,” Hen observes.

It’s clear Buck was trying to keep his breathing under control, but he was failing. His chest was tight, his quickened breathing not giving his lungs enough time to use the oxygen, and his face was hot, it was so hot he felt like he needed to jump into ice water. His entire body was on fire. And he was starting to shake.

Before anyone can say anything else, they hear footsteps on the stairs, followed by Eddie’s worried voice.

“What’s going on?”

“Something’s not right,” Chim answers, motioning to Buck.

“Buck?” Eddie says, doing his best to keep his worry under control. “Hey, Buck.”

Eddie walks between Chim and Hen and drops to his knees in front of his best friend, taking in the taller man’s state and condition.

“He’s having a panic attack,” Eddie remarks, his eyebrows knitting together. “Christopher has had a few of them,” he adds.

“Buck, Buck, it’s okay,” Eddie says, “you’re safe.”

Buck doesn’t budge.

Eddie tries again. “Buck, it’s Eddie. Can you look at me? You’re okay.”

Slowly, Buck starts lifting his face and faces Eddie, but his eyes are hazy, unfocused, the blue so clear and swimming in unshed tears.

And this time, it’s Eddie’s heart that breaks at the sight.

“That’s it, Buck,” Eddie nods. He wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around Buck and to hold him close, to protect him, but he knows Buck’s reaction to such an action could be unpredictable. And Eddie doesn’t want to make it worse.

So, Eddie uses the one thing he can use to help Buck: his voice.

“Buck, focus on my voice,” Eddie guides him in a stable tone. He takes a deep breath, “Buck…Evan.”

Eddie watches it happen in slow motion. He watches as Buck’s eyes go from hazy to landing on his own brown ones, and steadily begin to focus.

Eddie could cry with happiness.

“Eddie?” Buck whispers.

“Yeah, I’m right here, you’re okay,” Eddie gives Buck a small smile.

“Eddie,” Buck sighs, relieved at finding his best friend’s kind face.

“You back with me?”

Buck swallows against his dry throat and nods. “Yeah, I just…”

“Breathe with me, breathe in for five…now hold it for another five and slowly blow out,” Eddie leads. They repeat it a few times until Buck’s breathing is under control. “Do you want some fresh air?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah, yeah,” Buck replies.

A few minutes later finds Buck and Eddie sitting side-by-side on a bench outside the firehouse.

“The fresh air helping?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah, it is,” Buck responds.

“Good.”

A few moments of silence.

“You called me Evan,” Buck turns to look at Eddie.

Eddie nods.

“This is the first time you call me that,” Buck’s eyes roam over Eddie’s face.

“Yeah, I just, I thought it would help, get you out of the trance,” Eddie explains. “Something that you haven’t heard from me before.”

Buck nods. “It did, it helped and…it was nice to hear. Thank you, for bringing me back.”

Eddie shrugs it off. “It was nothing, I’m just glad it worked and that you’re okay.”

“I haven’t had a panic attack in years,” Buck sighs.

“Listen, you don’t have to…you don’t have to talk about it if don’t want or if you’re not ready. I got your back, remember? No matter what,” Eddie smiles.

Buck takes a deep breath. “I appreciate that, I do. But I think…I would like to tell you, to talk about this…with you.”

“Then I’m here to listen,” Eddie promises.

“I haven’t talked about this in…years.”

“Take your time,” Eddie replies.

“The call earlier today,” Buck starts, “it, uh, it hit really close to home. Because…I saw myself in Jake.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie frowns.

“I was Jake,” Buck looks at Eddie, his eyes sad, face drawn in pain, eyes glassy. “The whole thing, with the dad and…that was me. I know you could tell that something wasn’t right, and you are correct. It wasn’t right. That man…the moment I looked into Jake’s eyes, I knew.”

Eddie nods. “I thought he was just scared but the way he reacted to his father…”

“Yeah, that kid was not scared of the fire, he was scared of his dad,” Buck sighs, taking a moment to really let that sink in, that statement that brought back so much.

And Buck started sensing the feeling of dread climbing back and making its presence known in his chest. But then he looks to his side, and seeing Eddie there, next to him, it grounds Buck, and he takes a deep, slow breath, letting it out evenly.

“Your father…” Eddie speaks, his mind still catching up to what Buck has been saying.

“Wasn’t a very good father,” Buck nods.

“Wasn’t?”

Buck shrugs. “I think my parents are still living in Pennsylvania. Last I heard, at least. I left when I was eighteen and never went back. Or looked back. I haven’t thought about it in a while, but with Jake today…”

“It brought it all back,” Eddie says.

“Yeah. I travelled around, ending up in South America and stayed there for a couple of years, bartending. And when I returned to the States, my father reached out to me. And not to tell me to come home or that he missed me or to check on me, but he wanted to say how disappointed he was that I just…left, that I didn’t ask about them. Basically that I took my life into my own hands and…did what was best for me. He loved control, and he controlled me for most of my life, but then I left and he lost that control. And Maddie had already left. He just wanted that control back, he never cared about me or what I wanted,” Buck opens up, staring into the distance as he spoke. “He was manipulative and cruel and selfish.”

Eddie’s heart drops at Buck’s words, shaking his head. “Buck, I’m so sorry. I hate that you went through that, you deserve so much better.”

Buck shrugs. “I enlisted with the SEALs soon after that, but that didn’t really work out for me. Wanting to make a difference, I joined the Fire Academy and well, here we are.”

“Here we are,” Eddie nods, not taking his eyes off Buck.

“I just…I’ve always had this feeling that…I wasn’t enough, that I never will be enough,” Buck admits, closing his eyes.

Eddie’s frown deepens at Buck’s statement. “Buck, no. No. Hey, look at me. Open your eyes and look at me,” he begs.

After a moment, Buck peels his eyelids open and looks at his best friend. Neither say anything for a few seconds, instead, Eddie’s eye roam down to where Buck’s hands rested in his lap and then back up at the blue irises.

“That’s not true,” Eddie states. “You are enough, God, you’re more than enough.” And after a second of hesitation, Eddie reaches out, taking Buck’s hand in his own and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You are enough, Evan Buckley, and anyone would be blessed to have you in their life.”

And in that moment, Buck is feeling so much. Feeling Eddie’s skin on his, the way Eddie’s thumb is caressing his hand. The warmth spreading through him, from Eddie’s touch and words. Something was filling Buck, something soft and peaceful. Hope and joy, and trust. So much trust. It all takes Buck’s breath away and he can’t really find the words to express it all.

Buck doesn’t stop the tear that rolls down his cheek.

“You have blessed me and my son in so many ways, so many times. You saved me, Evan, and you saved Christopher. He thinks the world of you,” Eddie continues, and the sincerity in his voice, and the look of absolute truth on Eddie’s face, and the rawness in his eyes, Buck has rarely seen Eddie this way, rarely seen him allowing himself to be this vulnerable and this open. And it lifts Buck and carries him to the stars.

Buck adjusts his hand and intertwines his fingers with Eddie’s.

“I don’t know what I would do without you and Chris,” Buck says.

“You won’t have to find out, because we’re not going anywhere,” Eddie vows.

“I just…I want to save Jake, I want to look out for him. I barely saved myself,” Buck sighs. “I want to do better.”

“Buck, you saved yourself, in so many ways. You got yourself out, despite how hard that must have been. You survived. And you came out stronger. You’re one of the strongest and bravest people I know,” Eddie declares.

Buck’s face breaks into a smile, a genuine smile. “That…that means the world. Thank you, Eds.”

Before Eddie can reply, Buck’s phone starts ringing.

He fishes it out of his pocket and checks the caller ID. He faces Eddie.

“It’s Athena.”

#911 on fox #buddie #buddie fics #buddie fanfic #stiilesstilinski #buckleystrand #*fics #911 fic

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lamalefix · 4 years

Text

A whisper of smoke 1/5

[Buddie fic; Heavy Angst; Angst with a Happy Ending; Hurt/Comfort; Emotional Hurt/Comfort; Established Relationship; Major Character Injury; Blood and Injury; I don't know how to English; I Don't Even Know how to tag; I don't even know why; Author.exe has stopped working]

[read this work on ao3]

This really started as a short CPR story inspired by @buckleystrand (here the original post, and i Highly suggest you to go there and find out all the works that Haley's marvelous brain prompted!) but how it escalated quickly in this massive thing? As the tags say, I don't even know. CPR is, you know, the opposite of romantic. Peolpe stop to know how to function, when their loved one is unconscious, not responsive, and everyone is in panic. You push the chest of a person so hard, two inches down - it's massive -, that you can actually broke their ribs and, well... there's a lot of other things but... but urgh the angsty part of it? I'm all in for that!

Remember to perform (i really hope you won’t have to!) CPR only on unconscious, not responding, not breathing people. And please be sure to call for emergency.

“Buck this is an order. You have to move, look for a way out...” Bobby grumbles, peremptory, like a boss now. Even though his eyes show so much concern. “Find the way out, Buck, we are looking for you from outside, okay?”. “There could be, yes. But ... Cap?” he says, tentative over the radio. “It’s all dark and... and... and I think I’m hurt...” he says and hears him just chuckle. “I’m bleeding...” he continues to say and coughs. “But… but it doesn’t hurt”. Shit. Shit. Shit. This isn’t a good sign. Eddie has seen many injuries, even before being a firefighter. And this is not a good sign, if one doesn’t feel pain, it isn’t a good sign. Or, Buck gets trapped in a burning building but... there really is always a way out? No one gets left behind, right?

It’s a dim, soft light that wakes them up every morning. It leaks in from the curtains that are gently drawn, a thin gap between their edges. Buck doesn’t like complete darkness, and honestly Eddie might even sleep on stones. Especially after weary shifts like theirs.

Then there is that breakfast, usually quick, cereals and milk, because in order to steal a moment alone, two kisses too many, the hands that run along their bodies, in that blessed moment when they still don’t have to wake Christopher up, they then get stuck in the bathroom, hands still intertwined in the hair, or pressing on the flesh, small moans that rise, in the shower, and then they have hurry to dress and look like responsible adults.

And there is the way to school, the songs Buck and Christopher sing out loud. And maybe for a moment, just one, Eddie thought he would get a headache from hearing them sing, the very same song over and over again. And instead it is the best time of his morning. Even better than that little friction between their bodies, before waking Christopher.

Then there are the greetings, the recommendations in front of the school entrance, and that little moment of silence before restarting the car, as they watch Christopher hurry to join his classmates.

Then the way to get to the station, where all the others are waiting for them, and there is Evan who smiles in that incredibly bright and happy way.

Eddie repeats it and repeats it in all over again in his head, it’s like his anchoring mechanism. And sometimes he needs it, to repeat their morning routine in its every single fraction.

Eddie is a creature of habit, he likes to follow his patterns, his routines, perhaps due to all those years spent in the army. That’s why his life works so well, because they have habits, routines. Evan has messed them up a little, but in the best possible way. Inserting new little gears that alternate perfectly with those that Eddie had already set up in Christopher’s life. They are all happier, they are all more relaxed, and even when there is a small hitch, a small bump in the road, he just has to reach out to Evan, and he makes everything better.

And there are hard days, yes, there are always hardships, and there are times when reaching out and taking his hand isn’t enough, but it has never been like this. It has never been so atrocious.

At the fire academy, they immediately make it clear that the fire emits signals that can help firefighters determine the state of development of the fire and, above all, the changes that can occur.

This ability is essential for determining the appropriate strategy and tactics to be used, before moving to act.

Reading the fire means being able to make decisions based on your knowledge and not on simple guesswork or luck.

But then again, luck is a pivotal part of their work.

During a rescue situation, there is a large amount of information that can be found in a matter of seconds, just in a blink of an eye.

When firefighters are faced with fires in closed places, like homes or rooms, they must take into account certain specific signals, in order to have indications on the conditions and evolution of the situation.

The smoke, its colour, its density, its pulsations, its volume and its positioning and the height of the neutral zone.

Air currents, their speed and direction, those ominous whistles.

The heat, the darkening of the windows and little or no presence of flames, the wrinkling and the formation of bubbles on the colored walls, the sudden increase in heat.

The color, volume and location of the flames.

Among all, the smoke is the first alarm bell, the one that could decree the success of a rescue action, which with its murmurs, with its whisper, allows to make a first assessment of the risks, to decide the dynamics, the actions to follow.

Fires are all very different, if not unique, yet all the same. They all have the same destructive outcome. And they are all equally deadly.

The difference lies in the methods of intervention, in the rapidity of response, in the ability to read the signals and anticipate the fire.

Buck was sitting across from him in the truck. He was reading something, all focused, on his phone, he had started at the station and was continuing on the truck. He usually talks a lot, pumped up with adrenaline before he arrives on the scene, but he was still clearly all sulky and pouting about that little argument that the two of them had. Discussing with him is also fun, Eddie would say, almost indispensable.

Buck is selfless and stubborn, he is one who throws himself headfirst into situations, without even thinking about the consequences. And this makes him the wonderful person he is, the amazing firefighter he is. But Eddie just wants him to take better care of himself. And maybe he raised his voice and Evan snorted a dull grunt and decided to go and clean his locker, something he often does when he wants to clear his mind. And maybe one could wonder what is in his locker that instantly calms him down after rearranging it. But today he was still pouting, all sullen, on the truck, so he decided to read that something on his phone, maybe his current fixation.

They didn’t have time to clear up, the alarm went off before they could apologize to each other, which made him even more intractable as he slipped in turnout gear over the station garments, and had the usual problem of fastening that stupid clip between pants and suspenders.

Maybe Eddie isn’t even sure if he remembers what he told him; the captain interrupted them before the discussion escalated. But he must have said something stupid. When Eddie is worried, he always says something stupid. And Buck weighs his words more than he should.

He reached out, just before they got on the scene, and Buck returned his grip, as usual. A small smile curving his lips. And then they saw it, that whitish smoke.

When they arrived in what was supposed to be a nice neighborhood, before the economic crisis, the smoke was white. And when the smoke isn’t dark, well, that's not a good sign: it means that pyrolysis products accumulate, and there is an absurd heat inside the scene.

It was pure chaos over there. People in the streets and police all over. While they were pulling on the scene, arrived two more ambulances from station 154. And what was happening over there, for sure, was something gruesome: a house fire doesn’t usually need that amount of firefighters but there were at least 3 kids to rescue. Maybe more.

There was a cop barking orders through gritted teeth before he started updating Bobby about the situation. Four kids, a lighter and an abandoned house. A stunt. A stupid joke. All still inside except one, who had decided to lock them inside the house and run away.

And when his friends didn’t find a way out, he needed to call the 911.

The volume of the smoke allows to determine the magnitude of a fire and with a relative accuracy its location. In certain cases there is no correlation between the two facts, and this can give false information on the location, size and state of development. Smoke can move through ventilation ducts or part of the space and appear in unexpected places. The basic principle is that hot fumes tend to rise vertically, and when they reach horizontal obstacles, they look for new vertical loopholes. The longer the path, the more the fumes cool down, mixing partially with the air they encounter.

Opening the door with the ram made the fire develop and inflate, but it was the only way to get in there. The neutral zone started lowering and the fumes thickening. The air was already so fucking hot.

And they launched in the rescue. They immediately found two of the three kids on the first floor. They were unconscious and therefore Eddie and Buck left them to the expert hands of paramedics, the rest of the 118 who was trying to tame the flames, still not too high and swollen, that didn’t even crackle that much.

Usually, when an opening is created, hot gases come out of the upper side of said opening and fresh air enters through the lower side. A sudden and complete movement of this air flow towards the interior of the room indicates the imminence of a backdraft. In some cases, this can be followed by a reflux movement, so the backdraft occurs a few moments later.

The smoke seemed to pulsate through the small cracks in the wall, through the half-open and lopsided doors, the fire was feeding itself, and with the front door wide open and the windows broken by the pressure exerted by the heat, the air increased the destructive power and the fire has grown in breadth.

The two of them had to hurry.

The change in the wind was enough to put the elements of combustion in motion and in a blink of an eye that house has become hell.

The air flow has become rapid and turbulent the neutral zone has begun to lower more and more, more and more, the pulsations of smoke and air flow have increased the rhythm in a swirl of flames and soot, burning dust, and they seemed to walk on the edge of a volcano.

As they went up to the second floor, they also found the other boy, unconscious and with his leg stuck in a rough beam in the floor.

They were on the stairs, a few meters from the door, when they weird that strange cry, a sound coming from the basement. Like a cry for help.

The temperature had become even higher, even warmer, the wallpaper, the little that had remained attached to the walls and had survived the wear and tear of time, was swelling.

He looked at Buck. He looked at him as he looked at him many times, such despair in his eyes, while he was shaking his head slowly. “We have to go,” he said, “we have to go, we have to get out of here”.

They didn’t have time to look for other people, to look for other collateral damage. Or they could become it, they could become the collateral damage.

Yet Eddie would have done it, if they had been reversed, if Buck had the boy passed out in his arms, then Eddie would have gone looking for that person calling out for help. He has taken all those shitty decisions too many times, for the sake of good, to save people and not for an absurd hero complex, certainly not. Because maybe he still doesn’t believe it, but Buck is an ace in his job, maybe he’s better than all of them put together, so fucking smart and zealous. And maybe Eddie is so, so selfish since they got together, that he just wants his own good, he just wants his heart not to break. He has already lost so much, they have already lost so much.

That’s why he didn’t want it to happen, for any of them to become the collateral damage of a couple of junior high students’ joke.

“Go on, take him out,” Buck said, hurrying to the door. “I’m right behind you, one last check. No one gets left behind...”.

“Don’t pull your stunts now, get out!” Eddie grumbled.

And then there was the whistle.

It happened in the blink of an eye.

A moment earlier, they were leaving that house, and the next moment Eddie is face down on the concrete, a couple of feet away from the door, or from what is left of it. The thirteen-year-old boy still clasped in his arms, the air being torn out full force of his chest. Something, someone pushed him away.

It happened in a blink of an eye.

And the backdraft must have brought down the roof of the house, the temperature was so high that a flashover exploded in all its arrogance. At some point the fire must have grown so high that the heat released by the various levels of fumes has reached such an intensity to trigger a self-ignition of all combustible materials.

And now that he looks at the lopsided skeleton of what had once been a beautiful house, and sees that part of the roof yielded, taking half of the facade away, Eddie shivers: a moment too much and he would have been stuck there. No way out. No way in.

He can’t even understand what happened, his ears whistling with the noise, the dark and rainy night above him, a fuss of colors, the flashing lights of the fire trucks, the fire still sizzles on the walls, the tiles of what is left of the roof falling like burning embers, while the puffy black smoke now stands out towards the sky.

And it takes more than a moment, it takes more than a moment for Eddie to notice it, to realize that something is so very wrong.

And for a moment, in that confusion, someone needs to point it out to him.

It’s Bobby who points it out, the voice crackling on the radio. “Buck, do you copy?”.

No reply.

And it’s like a punch well placed on the ribs, something that Eddie remembers clearly, from a life before, stupid streetfightings and shitty decisions. It takes his breath away. And it’s certainly not the smoke that has that effect on his breathing rhythm.

Buck.

Buck pushed him out of there.

Buck is still inside. No way in. No way out.

And it’s like looking out of his own body, he doesn’t even notice his body moving to leave the boy in Hen and Chim’s care as he stands up and starts, with his knees trembling in a shock of adrenaline and terror, towards the pile of flames and debris.

Buck was behind him, and now he isn’t there.

“Buck? Buck?” the captain repeats before cutting a glare at Eddie, his eyes dark. “You should let Chim look over you Eddie,” he says a paternalistic tone in his voice.

And Eddie feels it, the emptiness, the silence of the other walkie, that digs in his chest, his heart in his throat waiting for an answer.

Nothing.

He is already out of breath, when a disturbing, gruesome roar comes from the house, the roof that folds again, in a strangely comic and blood-curdling way. While a part of the second-floor yields and crushes down. The plywood that splashes with glass and soot.

And Eddie has to stay calm. He has to keep calm, he has to control himself. Even if his whole body would like to run there, he would like to dig, even with bare hands, between the flames and the debris, he would like to pull away the burning embers of that house, to open a passage, to pull him out.

No way in. No way out.

“Cap” he manages to say, his voice like a whisper as he looks at all that devastation. “Bobby… Bobby, we have to go in there, we have to help him... he’s still in there, someone was there... we heard... he was right behind me...”.

A stunt. It was just a stupid joke, fun for four kids. Damn foolish kids.

And before he loses what’s left of his breath in his lungs, before the panic fogs his eyes, he repeats again and again their morning routine.

Again and again.

Until he hears it, the familiar noise of the radio croaking.

And his raspy voice that comes directly from that hell. “... -by” he can hear on the other end. “Bobby” Evan repeats more forcefully.

The realization that he is alive, the shower of relief that collapses on him, immediately seems acid rain: Buck is alive, yes, but he is in there. Hen and Chim approach them after entrusting the last boy to the other paramedics, the ambulance ready to go to the hospital.

“I’m here Buck,” Bobby says, his eyes locked on Eddie.

“Thank God…” comes again from the walkie. “I thought... I feared...” Evan stammers. “I was afraid it was broken and... luckily...”.

“Buck you have to tell me where you are,” Bobby orders, his tone more like a father’s than a captain’s.

There is a long sigh and then a small series of coughs. “Is Eddie out there? He’s safe, Eddie... is Eddie safe? The kid? They are fine?” he mutters confusedly.

Hen taking a tight breath between her gritted teeth, Chim next to her with wide eyes.

“Yes, I’m out here Buck,” Eddie hurries to answer, the radio in his trembling hands. “I’m here, I’m fine, but you must tell us where you are... we have to come get you”.

“You are fine…” Buck repeats, the vaguely incredulous tone mixed with a satisfaction in a broken sigh. “Ah, thank God” he repeats.

“Evan,” Eddie calls him. “Please tell me where you are, we are coming to get you”.

Buck mumbles something disjointed, something incomprehensible. “... shit” he can only understand. “Basement. I think... the house has come down... shit. I don’t see anything, it’s dark... the neutral zone is... it’s getting down... I...” his words out strangled in his throat.

Eddie cannot move his gaze from the house, his knees still trembling, his hands burning from the desire to run there and help. He’s always been rebellious at heart, but never openly: he’s good at following orders, but he must, absolutely must go to Evan, help him out. As resilient as one may be, even a fighter like him, can’t get out of a collapsed house on his own.

There is another noise, deaf, and it comes even louder from the walkie. What remains of the house folds, menacingly.

“Evan!” Eddie shouts, the desperation that tears his voice apart. And he finds the strength to move his legs. The cortisol that runs in his body, the adrenaline that pumps into every corner of his cells. He has to get him out of there, surely there is something, even a little thing he can do, a road he can open.

“Cap the others... are the others there?” Evan asks slowly, the voice that sounds mixed with something, with sadness, pain.

“Buck you have to try to move, old houses like this one always have an access for the basement, can you see it? Maybe with a little luck... we can find it over here and we’ll catch you halfway and...” Bobby mumbles.

“Cap...” comes raw from the other end of the radio, Buck’s voice tired. “Everything is coming down, here, Bobby.” he clarifies. “It’s not worth it, coming in to save me. It’s not worth it… You have ... you all have a family to go back to... you are too... too important. It’s not... I’m not worth it.” he murmurs.

An impossible rage mounts in Eddie’s throat when he picks up the walkie again. “Don’t say bullshit like this. Tell me where you are. You are alive. As long as you’re alive, we don’t give up, you understand? You have a family too, Evan. Please. Don’t say this kind of things…”. And the thing that hurts the most isn’t only the fact that he said it out loud, that he said that he isn’t worth it, the most painful thing is that Evan believes it.

“Eddie...” he hears him sigh, a strange tone in his voice.

“There could be, yes. But... Cap?” he says, tentative over the radio. “It’s all dark and... and... and I think I’m hurt...” he says and hears him just chuckle. “I’m bleeding...” he continues to say and coughs. “But… but it doesn’t hurt”.

Shit. Shit. Shit. This isn’t a good sign. Eddie has seen many injuries, even before being a firefighter. And this is not a good sign, if one doesn’t feel pain, it isn’t a good sign.

“He’s going into shock,” says Hen. “We have to get him out of there, soon Cap”.

That’s enough. That’s enough. They waited too long for act. They are separated and he has to go and rescue him, he has to help him, he can do it, Eddie has saved a convoy, Eddie managed to get out alive from a hell of water, a hell very similar to what Buck went through with the tsunami, or everything else they had faced, both of them and have always found a way to back to each other, they fought their way back to each other, even before getting together.

“Buck, you have to move. It’s an order,” Bobby repeats. “Do you understand? I’m ordering you, Buck”.

Eddie moves quickly: Evan cannot do it alone, not in there, not if he is injured and sees nothing, and it’s dark. But as long as he is alive, as long as he is alive, they can’t surrender, they can’t give up.

“Don’t screw it up, Eddie” the captain grumbles, standing in front of him. “Eddie, you have a son waiting for you at home, and...” he stops and looks at him, his eyes shiny with unshed tears. And Eddie is about to yell at him that Evan has the very same kid, the very same son waiting for him at home too, but Bobby continues. “We have to have a plan to get in, Eddie and you have to get in with at least other people, because if he’s hurt that bad as it seems, you’ll need help to get him out. If you enter from here, what remains of the house could collapse, we need a secondary access, something that has resisted”.

“What if there isn’t any? Nobody is left behind, Bobby. Buck won’t be left behind…” he replies.

“Cap?” the walkie crackles again and Bobby turns his gaze away from Eddie that moment, his hand still holding his shoulder tight.

“I’m here, Buck.” the captain says softly.

“It’s hell in here.” Evan manages to say, and seems to articulate with difficulty. “Don’t come in. It’s not worth... I try... I try to search, okay? Just… it’s… it’s… what’s the word? Dangerous”.

“Of course, it’s worth it, you’re in there! And danger is our job!” growls Chim. “Buckaroo what are you saying? You start looking, we are looking from here... there is definitely a way to reach you, Buck, do you understand?”.

A strange noise can be heard as he speaks, and then a fatigued puff, and again he has shortness of breath and he coughs, and there is a series of words that Eddie can’t understand, but then... “Three nephews… nieces, I don’t care… I just want three” Evan says. And it seems a disconnected, confused speech. “Chim... three kids. I want... I want... take care of Maddie… tell her it’s not scary. It doesn’t even hurt…” he mumbles and pulls a series of coughs that seem to take away all his energy, all his breath. “It isn’t a good sign that it doesn’t hurt... is it?"

Chim turns his gaze to Eddie, but doesn't say a thing.

Eddie can’t help but take another step, getting Bobby’s hand off his shoulder. “I have to go. I have to... he can’t stay under there... I need to take him home”.

“Chim?” they hear him say and everyone turns to the paramedic.

“I’m here, Buckaroo,” says Chim, his eyes shiny, and then he dries his eyes with his harm.

“Maddie doesn’t want a big wedding… she... something intimate... but... you should definitely invite our parents... they didn’t come when she... when she got married to Doug, but...” Evan mumbles, muffled and pained words. “Chim... you’re the best thing that could have ever happened to Maddie,” he adds. “And you will be a good father... so, three kids”.

“Buck...” Chim continues to say , trying to stop him.

And Eddie and Hen hurry to retrieve their full equipment and look, look for the policeman, the one who barked the orders before, because maybe he knows something about the house, or that boy, that boy who orchestrated this stunt, maybe he knows about another way in.

But then they hear Evan talk again. “If... if you have any doubts or... or hardships... ask... Hen and Karen... Bobby and Athena... Michael...” he says softly, and Eddie can figure out that he is smiling, down there, Evan is smiling. Somehow. “Ask Eddie... we know... wonderful parents and... you... you will be among them... you and Maddie will be...” he stops again and coughs.

They all hear the small dull sob that escapes Chim. “Don’t talk like that, huh? I don’t like, you know... tell me about... what were you reading today, tell me about this... While Cap tries to figure out how to reach you”.

Eddie hears him coughing on the radio, and decides he doesn’t even have time to look for secondary access. He will put on a sling and throw himself into the fire if necessary. He won’t leave Buck down there.

“A… nice article1.” Evan says and inhales deeply, there is a dark, ominous whistle in his breath. “Like... like a team of neuroscientists has discovered… found that... there is a way to communicate... to let comatose patients communicate with their loved ones,” he adds. And there is a strange and background noise, it is as if he is moving something. “I see something, I see...” he mumbles. “I think there is... there is access, or an exit... in this case...” he mutters. “Cap?”.

“I’m here, Buck. Try to reach it. We search from the outside, okay?” says Bobby. “Tell us more about that nice article, keep talking to us, Buck,” he adds, taking the equipment too and going with Eddie and Hen towards the skimpy skeleton of that house.

“What did these neuroscientists do?” Chim asks. “Keep talking to me Buck, we have to hear your voice, okay? And you have to stay awake, because if it doesn’t hurt, it’s a bad sign, you’re right. But if you talk to me, it’s good, trust me”.

Buck groans. “With... with a microphone and MRI... they’ve found that... that if patients think about doing an exercise they can answer the questions and... I... it’s hard to explain...” he mutters and breathes a long sigh, which however is broken by a series of coughs. “The fact is that...” mutters and then they hear him curse, a raw sob escaping his throat.

Eddie, Hen and Bobby move to find that fucking side entrance. It must be near the house, but with a little luck the debris left it free.

And here it is, here it is. Under an entire pile of rubble, they see something glistening. With the torches they identify it as padlock. A secondary entrance, like the entrance of an anti-hurricane refuge.

“Buck here we are, here we are!” Bobby tells him, starting to pull the beams and pipes away. “We are coming to get you”.

But the house growls a dark ominous sound, and folds even more. Eddie starts to pull Hen and Cap back, and a part of him, the selfish one regrets doing just so, while what remains of the facade collapses blocking the secondary entrance.

And now he is no longer able to control himself, now he starts throwing all that stuff away with his hands. Without thinking about the rest of the house that threatens to come down, above his head. Evan has to get out of there, Evan has to go home with him and Christopher, and they have to finish planning their summer holidays, go to the science fair at school, to the end of year play. They still have to try Ben & Jerry’s new ice cream flavours. And they have to do many other things. Better fit the time they have available.

They must have more time.

Bobby is next to him now, pulling the debris away with him. “Buck? Buck do you copy?”.

And it isn’t that long until the radio croaks: “The door... the door is blocked...” they hear Evan say all raspy and tired and a sob escapes his lips. “The door... I... I can’t─”.

“The rest of the 118 is taming the flames, Buckaroo, don’t worry , we’re coming, okay?” Hen murmurs, her voice still vibrant with her unwavering optimism and faith.

“Talk to me, Buck, you were saying... the fact is that?” they hear Chim prompt on the other side of the walkie. “Talk to me, continue, please”.

The house growls again, a deep and hard rumble, which makes Eddie shiver. Bobby pulls Eddie away just in time to prevent that what’s left of the roof from falling on him and serving him an horrible end.

It’s surreal then.

The dust and ash, rise in a whirlwind of wind, as a light spring rain begins to fall. The smoke that stands out again white and glimmering in the starless night.

Eddie freezes. They can no longer see the end of all that pile of rubble. They will need a bulldozer, or at least the others, all the people who can help them get rid of all this.

“Buck?” they hear Chim say in panic, and they see him rush to where they are. He curses under his breath.

“Evan? Evan, answer me!” Eddie shouts into the radio and launches back to the house.

“...smoke... it’s white again and... it’s a lot...” they hear him say, his voice that croaks in the walkie. “And it’s throbbing... so...”.

“A smoke explosion? Are you sure, Buck?” Bobby deduces as he reaches Eddie. “We have to go, we can’t stay here”.

“No! No! He’s down there, if there’s a smoke explosion, if... if there is even a possibility... we... he─will...” he murmurs.

“Eddie” they hear him say. And Eddie’s heart gets tighter in his chest. “Everything is alright. It’s not scary, it’s not that scary, it doesn’t even hurt... it will be a blink, huh? You know how it works... it won’t hurt… I won’t even notice, it’s all good. I’m good. I’m good”.

And Eddie knows, he knows him so much better than himself maybe, he really knows how scared he is. He knows how scary it is being alone, being trapped, no way in, no way out. But Eddie, unlike Evan, was lucky enough to find a way back.

“Ev, mi amor?” he murmurs, his lips on his radio. “You have to fight your way back here. We can't help you, but you are strong, cariño. You are brave, and resilient. You are a warrior, you are going to come back to me.” he adds, and maybe his words aren’t at all comforting for Evan, but he has to know at least that, even if they can’t actually go in there, Eddie has unbreakable faith in him.

Hen hurries to join the others, to bring them closer with the hydrants and hoses, to reduce the destructiveness of the impending explosion, while Bobby is almost as helpless as Eddie, while trying to drag him away. They don’t have an action plan, they have nothing, they can’t dig, not by hand, they wouldn’t do it in time.

Evan groans, a pained sound that scratches from the walkie.

And Eddie has to stay in control, he has to have control over his emotions, because despair would be useless, now. Not now, not yet. Not now that they can still find a way to get him out.

“Buck,” Chim starts to say again.

“The article. Yes…” he murmurs. “It seems that... that when they made the patients’ loved one talk over the microphone and... well...” he stops and takes a choked trembling breath. "Their brains have... like... all lit up like the night of July 4th” and Eddie hears him chuckle his amused laugh softly. “I was reading the interview... of one of the... the... neuroscientists and...” he stops again and inhales another short, trembling sigh. “When the brain all lights up like that means that... it means that you experience the people you love with your whole body... with everything you have of yourself. And the brain lights up like that because… because the brain is what makes us, us... and therefore...” he swallows, and it seems painful.

And Eddie bites a raw, ugly sob, Bobby’s hand tightening his grip on his shoulders, as he pulls him away .

“No! No!” Eddie growls trying to break free from him, but with little success, his strength that fails him, the adrenaline that gradually gives in to confusion and weakness.

“We had to get married, Eds.” he hears Evan say in a such a low voice, a quiet tone. “But I’m sure my brain didn’t need a ring on my finger to… to light up like the night of July 4th”.

Eddie feels his knees turn to butter as they yield under him. “You’re not going away Evan, you’re not going away, now we find a way, you hear me? You understand, Evan?” he manages to say, but his voice it’s like a whisper, broken by sobs, the tears that drop slide bitter on his face, and then he starts up again and launches himself towards the pile of rubble, he must free that fucking door, he must, he must get him out.

But Bobby holds him back, pulls him back and the both of them capitulate to the now muddy ground. And he holds him tightly against himself, and maybe he even says something but Eddie, Eddie genuinely can’t hear anything but Buck’s faint, choked laboured, breath.

And there is a moment of silence and there is only the pouring of the water of the hydrants and the rain. Then there is a dull sound, which comes from the radio and Eddie’s heart grows small while he holds his breath.

A moment later there is a long sigh, which croaks loudly on the walkie. “I don’t wish you all sort of gifts…” they can all hear him mumble, his voice kneaded and tired. “I wish you all, time... there was... there was a poem... by Elli Michler, if I remember correctly... Dir Zugedacht2... my nanny liked it so much... she always repeated it to me on my birthday... I only remember the… the… openin’ lines but…” he says, sniffing. “I wish you all what the poem says. I wish you time. I don’t remember well, I only know that... I only know that... hit home. To have time... to have time is a good thing... for everything you love for those you love... I wish you... time to live.” he adds softly and pulls a small feeble breath while sobbing loudly. “It’s not scary because you are there. And I’ve always been afraid to die alone, I’m always the one who’s left behind. But you are there, and I... you were the best thing that ever happened to me, with all the hitches, the bumps in the road... and anger. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry” he slurs biting back a sob.

And Eddie really needs to say something, to say something, he needs to find the right words, comforting him, but mostly he has to say that Evan should never, never apologize. But…

“Take care of yourself… take care of Maddie, and keep an eye on Eddie please...” he adds sniffling. "You should move away now... there’s a lot of white smoke here... and my oxygen tank has started whistling a while ago so… I don’t think it will take long for everything to blow up,” he gulps, and doesn’t wait for any of them to say anything.

And Eddie can’t move, he can’t leave him. He won’t ever leave him. He’s somehow the one who’s left behind. And it’s funny because once he was the one who always left.

“Eddie?” Evan says softly, after a short minute of silence.

And Eddie sees the others turning off the radio, to leave them a moment.

“Evan, don’t... just don’t” he begins to say . “Don’t, please…”.

“Eddie” Evan quips slowly. “Listen to me,huh? You made me so fucking immensely happy. And I hope I made you even half as happy as you’ve made me...” he sighs and hears him making a lot of noise, he seems to be moving something, he seems to be still looking a way to get out. “You know I’d do anything to get back to you, Eddie, to fight my way back… But, let’s face reality. As shitty as it is.” he mumbles. “I may not get out of here and...”.

“Evan please...” Eddie manages to say, trying not to break now.

“Let me tell you, okay? Let me tell you… Let me talk to you a bit more...” he murmurs. “Because If I stop talking I’m positive... I’m sure I won’t have the strength to...” the voice that comes out hoarse from his throat, like a gasp. “I love you, and you are my forever”.

And it like a statement, strong and clear, and it takes Eddie’s breath away the sole idea that clearly there’s a but, after that incipit. And he grits his teeth and waits, biting back on his tears, the inside of his cheek that hurts between his gritted teeth.

“But, I don’t have to be yours. I don’t have to be your forever. One day you will move on, you will move on and… you will get through this, and you'll have to do it for Christopher and for yourself... And when you’ll think about me, if you do, I hope your brain lights up at least a little bit, always...” he adds sniffling. “You made me, oh… so very happy.” he repeats. “And, please... tell Christopher I wasn’t afraid, it wasn’t scary. Even if... yeah it’s dark and... and it’s a little scary…” he heaves out a pained sigh. “Maybe in another life you and I will be luckier. But I’m already lucky enough, you know? Because you... you chose me. Because you never left me. I’m sorry to be the one who leaves you.” he murmurs, and inhales again, and it seems to hurt a lot.

“Evan.” he croaks out, his voice choked in his throat. “You have to, you have to fight a little more for me... it will only take a lot more water and... we will get you out, okay? You just have to... you survived a bomb ... a tsunami... an embolism... a…” and he bites back a raw sob. He can’t cry, Evan doesn’t need him crying now, Evan needs a strong version of this broken shell he is now. He can’t cry. Not now. He must be strong, he must be in control, he must do it for Evan. “You just have to grit your teeth a little bit more, okay? Buy us a bit of time...”.

And maybe Evan is answering him when it happens, maybe Evan says something to him, but his voice is swallowed by the roar, by that impossible roar. That loud roar, that sudden bang that rips the sky open. And from the remains of that house a blaze of dust and wind rises, the rain now beats more insistently, and the hydrants splash at full power.

The debris that splash away. And there’s a fuss of people who crouch to avoid being collateral damage too.

And Eddie is there.

Without voice to shout.

Without tears to cry.

Without words to scream.

His broken heart that drums in his ears, it’s the only noise he can hear.

His hand and his knees in the mud while adrenaline lives his body altogether and he freezes there.

Broken.

Hollow.

Empty.

He bites the air in front of his nose as he pulls off his helmet. Bobby pulling him back, in a strange and awkward embrace.

And then Eddie no longer hears a thing.

There is a moment, a very specific time when their rescue actions become body recoveries. Usually they wait, they wait for the flames to be completely tamed, that the area is secured, they wait it all to end.

And that’s what happens, once again. Even today.

Eddie is on the ground, Hen who tried to pull him up not so long ago, when Bobby left him, collapsed next to him and hugged him. And he doesn’t know how long they’ve been there.

And he tries to repeat his routine. The old one.

His and Christopher’s morning routine. He tries, so hard, to remember how it was before, how it was before, without Buck, without Evan twisting it, sweeping his world beneath his feet. His anchoring mechanism, his coping mechanism. Eddie must remain in control, for Christopher, for Christopher and for his own heart, all shattered and broken.

But then he thinks about his son, and he tries to imagine what it will be like tomorrow. How will it be to tell Christopher that, that Evan… that his Bucky won’t ever return home.

And then the world starts moving again, the world starts moving again, or better it never stopped.

Bobby is saying something, orders in mouth. Chim has the phone in his hands and his eyes are devastated by the sole idea of having to call Maddie, heavily pregnant Maddie. And Eddie can’t feel anything except that emptiness. Undying and transcendent. That weighs on him and digs into what’s left of his shattered heart.

And for a moment Eddie imagines him coming out of the rubble like a phoenix. Something epic, something impossible, something heroic. Something that, sure, only Buck could do.

But it’s all just illusions and, and sad impossible dreams.

However resilient one may be, however strong one may be, none can survive this.

It’s a moment, but then he hears Hen gasp and shift, forcing him to move too, from where he collapsed against her.

“Eddie, Eddie!” she calls him, her voice vibrant with confused, mixed emotions, or maybe Eddie can’t, just can’t understand what’s filling her voice.

But then he moves his gaze over the house and sees him.

Evan? Evan!

And even before feeling his own body move, he’s already launching himself towards him, towards Evan who struggles out of that pit made of rubble and embers and flames, he drags himself out of there, trudging with his legs shaking.

And Eddie leaps forward and runs, runs at breakneck speed, until he arrives and supports him. His body colliding with Buck’s, who lets out an huffed, pained groan, their turnout coats screeching in that strange embrace. Evan can’t stand for long and his legs give in as he collapses and takes away with all his weight Eddie’s stability.

And Eddie forgot his army training alongside his firefighter training, all protocols swept away all together, he just forgot what you should do in cases like this, he forgot everything. His hands that tremble as they run to the helmet, but Chim and Hen are by him before he can even notice it and hurry to give Evan the help he needs.

They take off his helmet, and gently but steadily fasten a collar around his neck. And he has an open eye and a faint smile on his lips. And he looks for Eddie’s hand, in an uncoordinated movement, and he hurries to take that hand and grips it tight, and heaves out a shaky breath.

And Eddie doesn’t have words in his mouth, or in his head. He forgot how to work, how to function, and that’s okay. He has a very good reason not to know, Evan is alive and nothing else matters.

“Fuck” he can hear Chim say.

“It wa’t th’t bad bef’r" Evan slurs, his voice weak, as he points his open eye on Eddie and smiles more and tightens his faint grip on his hand. “I f’nd a... a niche... ah…” he coughs and blood mounts in his mouth.

There’re hissing sounds when he breathes in and out. And finally, Eddie has the courage to move his gaze from Evan’s face to see that bright pinkish foaming blood that swells on his turn-out coat. He has a sucking chest wound. Dios.

Meanwhile Evan must have closed his eyes, because Hen hurries to massage his chest with his knuckles “Buckaroo, hey, we’ll take you to the hospital, okay? You have to stay awake, huh? Show us your baby blues, will ya?”.

And Evan barely opens his eyes and coughs painfully, hissing while sucking in air, he has all his teeth stained with blood and the sound of when he inhales is a horrible rattle that croaks deep in his throat. And slowly he closes his eyelids again.

Eddie feels it, that frenzy, he remembers the training, the field doctor who is in him is kicking in, but, but there is a protocol, and the protocol is there for a reason. Evan is his love, his future and with enough luck his forever, and Eddie most definitely can’t take care of him, as much as he would like, he wouldn’t think straight. And so, he only focuses his gaze on Evan, while with the help of his teeth he takes off his glove and rests his free hand on Evan’s face. “Ev, awake. You have to stay awake, for me, okay?”.

And when he manages to his eyes, Eddie is lost in him again. He wouldn’t be able to help him even with all his willpower and all that control that usually governs his life.

And therefore, he isn’t the one who moves, however he knows at first hand what to do in these cases, he really can’t move. Chim is the one who disinfects his hands quickly and put on sterile gloves, and hastens to open his turn-out coat, and removes all the loose clothing covering the wound. There’s something, like a botched bandage, all balled up to cover the wound, soaked with blood. And Eddie looks away again, all that blood, he doesn’t want to see all that blood, not on Evan, not on anyone else, but especially not on Evan.

And Eddie doesn’t even want to understand what could have caused such an injury, he just wants to look at him, at his stupidly beautiful face even now, all pale and in pain, while the others have to hurry to cover the wound and stabilize him before taking him away.

He sees them moving in the periphery of his visual field, he sees Hen and Chim moving. It is probably Hen who moves quickly to cover the open wound with her hand, trying to put the right pressure, and the small groan that escapes from Buck’s lips gives him this confirmation.

“It’s alright,” Eddie says. “You are with us now, you are with us, everything is fine” he repeats slowly, and doesn’t really care how much his voice trembles or how chocked it may sound.

And Evan swallows painfully and looks at him, and Eddie opens his mouth and perhaps wants to say something, something more. The words of just before they echo in his head.

It’s as if talking helps him stay alive, it’s like it’s the only thing that keeps him alive.

“Talk to me, mi amor, please” he only manages to say.

“Buckaroo?” Chim demands softly. “You have to exhale, okay? You have to exhale, take all the air out, please”.

And Evan with terrible difficulty manages to throw out all the air he can, coughing bitterly then.

And Eddie doesn’t look up from his face, he just moves his free hand to cup his chick, to touch with the tip his thumb that adorable birthmark above his eye, which now, now that Evan is so pale and that the night slams on his face, now that the smoke is a faint, distant memory and there are their trucks spinning lights lighten up the night, it is even more evident.

Someone, maybe Bobby, is passing Chim some tape, to fix some medical plastic and gauze on the wound, and make sure that the air doesn’t get in.

And then, before they place him on the stretcher, someone from their team has brought there, they moves Evan on his side and he moans painfully.

“It’s all good, you’re fine, we’ll take you away, now,” murmurs Bobby .

Evan looks at him for a moment, his eyes a little confused and then he lets out a groan hoarser than the others, while he breathlessly draws his breath.

Eddie does nothing but hold his hand, then, as he accompanies him to the ambulance.

And while Hen is rushing at the driving seat, Eddie goes up behind with him: he doesn’t have the courage to leave him alone, even if he is with Chim, who is more than capable to take care of him and is already fixing his heart monitor, and a bag of blood, and a oxygen mask on his face. But Eddie doesn’t have the courage to leave Evan, never.

Bobby climbs in front and orders Hen to really mash his paw down, sirens blaring.

And Eddie closes his eyelids for a moment, and tries to catch up a breath, tries to swallow back the tears that are gathering in the corners of his eyes, and bends to kiss a edge of Evan’s forehead. His hair is flattened and wet with sweat, and reek of soot. He doesn’t even feel how long it will take for the hospital, he doesn’t even notice he is talking to Evan slowly, little comforting nothings in Spanish, something that reminds him of his abuela when he was sick, as a child, and she took care of him.

He cups his cheek, and Evan smiles weakly behind the mask, his eyes bleary and tired. “Luv’ ya” he murmurs.

“You are doing so good, Ev, you are so brave, and strong and...” he manages to say. “I love you too, so much. Hang on, mi amor”.

Evan closes his eyes for a moment, a second too long.

And its because Eddie is so focused on Evan, his eyes fixed on his face, that maybe he notices even before the heart monitor starts to alert with that mechanic whistle, that terrible, frightening sound, even before that Buck starts to gasp for a moment, even before that blood that mounts in his mouth again splashes on the facemask, even before that blood, like pinkish foam, pools under the medical film soaking the gauze that covers the wound.

Eddie turns him over on his Back, so that he has free access to his chest, and moves his head back to avoid the backflow, to help him breath. His chest motionless.

And in a matter of seconds, he places the heel o f his and on the centre of Evan’s chest, and the heel of his other hand on the top of the other lacing his fingers together. He keeps his arms straight and his shoulder directly over his hands. And starts compressing, pushing hard and fast on Evan’s chest. He lets the chest rise completely before pushing down again. And again, And again. And he doesn’t even notice that he repeats like a mantra, out loud Please, please, please, please, please ...

Until Chim moves on him with an AED in hand. And while turning it on he removes all the arranged dressing, attaches the AED pads before saying “Stand clear” and Eddie moves fast enough to let him press the shock button.

And when Evan doesn’t react, his body tense for a mere second, but his heart monitor doesn’t respond, Eddie throws himself on him again, continuing with the compressions.

Again.

And perhaps he also feels his ribs give in under his thrusts, under his compressions, but he can’t stop. He can’t stop.

And every time Chim presses the shock button, and Evan doesn’t respond, Eddie’s own heart leaps in his chest.

And Eddie doesn’t have the courage to look up, when those interminable two minutes pass, and Evan gives no signs of response. Because it’s all so dramatically similar to that other time, to that other circumstance. And he doesn’t have the courage, and he’s selfish and just, just wants Evan. He just wants Evan back.

And so he goes on and on, and Chim follows him, and occasionally presses the shock button, and increases the voltage, until they arrive a few miles from the hospital and Eddie looks up. The captain’s voice that echoes far in his ears. “Enough, Eddie, stop”.

Chim reaches out and puts his hands on his. His nose curled while he sniffles and shakes his head. And Eddie can’t connect, he doesn’t even recognize his voice, when that groan runs raw and hard from his throat. And collapses, exhausted, the shoulders that now hurt like hell, on Evan. On Evan who doesn’t breathe.

And maybe he doesn’t say it out loud. Or maybe he screams it. Or maybe he just murmurs it over his chest. Please. Please. Please. Stay with me. Please.

But he can’t hear her words, no sound coming from his chest.

Until there is that whistle in his breath, and that little cough and a dull grunt.

And there is that sigh of relief from Chim. “You gonna give me grey hair, Buckaroo” he hears him say.

And Eddie turns his gaze to Evan and, and, heck. Hot damn. He has his eyes open and the bewildered look.

And it takes an handful of seconds, nothing more, for them to pull in the hospital, the doors of the ambulance open in no time and there are doctors and nurses who are waiting for them out there and they take away Evan from his hands, and Eddie isn’t able to say anything.

Chim jumps out of there, updating the doctors and Bobby and Hen surround Eddie, as if it were him the one in needs of support. And perhaps he is, because he is exhausted now, now that his eyes become clouded, and he feels so empty, so hollow, and his colleagues, his family, must help him to stand up.

Or maybe it’s just because he’s all broke, again, now that they’re dragging Evan away, now that he can’t control the situation anymore. And he collapses in the end. There is nothing more to keep in check. Not even his emotions. Not now. He doesn’t have to be strong now.

Not now. Not now that he has white smoke in his eyes and he feels dizzy altogether. Not now that he isn’t in control. Not now that he can’t watch over him. Not now that Evan is out of his reach.

___

A/N: *Shields her head with a both her arms* - please don't kill me, at least let me finish all my WIPS! (let me live forever to do so, I'm a procrastinator!)Okay, so, without furhter ado... If you reached the end of this work without wanting to kill me? , you are now my favourite person in the world. Thank you so much for taking your time and use it to you know, read a angsty 9k words chapter, you could have cooked a whole course meal instead, or I don't know, read like 9 1k words stories *laughs nervously* Feel free to leave a comment, a kudo, bookmark, curse me, or whatever! I'm very open to all kinds of things! I hope you enjoyed (???) this first chapter as much as I did (i really did! - and I teared up a lot doing so, proofreading and rereading all over again to cut down something). I hope what you read was clear enough - I really can't English right now *ahahah*, so if you find something that makes your skin crawl, misspellings or mistakes of every sorts please let me know. You'll have to wait a week or so for the next one. Now a couple of marginalia: 1. Here one scientific article about MRI-mediated communication with comatose patients, you may also want to read all the implications about this study - and all the ones that came before and after this, the majority of which are open and you can google it. The implications of this study is really massive: I remember from my days back in university this amazing conference with my neuropsychology professor who talked about this and presented a very similar study, and it gave me literal chills and tears. What Buck says it's a paraphrase of what she said back then. "You experience the people you love with all your body, with all you have, that's why your brain lights up like that, that's why your body reacts like that, that's why you produce all those neurotransmitters and molecoles! Your brain is the thing that makes you, you, and mediates all of your experiences. Love is physiology and chemistry and yet it is so much more, it is unknowable and transcendent", and I think I'll tresure her words as long as I leave. This is the power of our brain. And it's amazing. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk! 2. Here the poem. Stay tuned for more! And please, take care of yourself, drink your water, sleep tight and stay safe at home if you can!

tagging @buckleystrand; @sparksfly-buddie; @chrrlees; @lieselfh and whoever wants to be tagged!

#buddie fic #9 1 1 fic #evan buck buckley #eddie diaz #heavy angst #angst with happy ending #hurt/comfort #emotional hurt/comfort #cpr #established relationship #major character injury #lamalefixwrites #freaking long thing #over 9k words

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biclaremontdiaz · 4 years

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Please ✨ /tagged/mone

creators: send me ✨ + the link to your creations and I’ll answer with my top five favorite edits of yours!

i literally love everything you make, Haley, so this was hard, i had SO MANY tabs open trying to choose and it literally took me SO LONG but here we are

This 911 Edit - I literally love this edit, it is so freaking cool with all the Polaroids and the colouring and I just thought it was super well done??? I remember seeing you post it and being like “holy shit this is awesome” lmao

This Buck Edit - This is so aesthetically pleasing. Also, the gif of Buck in the fire truck in the little fire truck thing is just??? SO COOL??? Also the colouring is so pretty.

Another Buck Edit - You literally only just posted this, but it’s super pretty and I really, really like the stardust effect ??? I thought that was so freaking cool

This Buck & Chris Edit - Again this is another recent edit and it’s just coloured really well and the middle gif is super cool and super well done !

This Bellarke Edit - I went pretty deep in your edit tag and found this, but it’s super super cool! I just really like the star effect and the fonts?? and it just looks super pretty?? and as always, i love the colouring on your gifs

#✨ creator appreciation #haley tag #this was SO HARD bc you're like one of my favourite gifmakers #it took me far too long to decide omg #buckleyevan

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meteorit3737 · 4 years

Text

After two weeks at home, Joanie began to dream of a new journey. She changed her mind about going alone with a trailer, it didn't suit her character, but the idea of seeing her country never left her mind. Donna's parents twice asked her to come visit them, and the second time she agreed. Haley had classes at school, so Donna and Cam went to see Joanie off at the airport.

Joanie hugged her mom goodbye, then hugged Cam and told her in Japanese: "I pierced my mom's air mattress at the camp, but it was worth it, wasn't it?"

- Joanie! - Cam exclaimed, her eyes wide. Joanie winked at her and joined the crowd. Cam stared after her in shock. Donna gently touched her shoulder:

- Cam? What's wrong? What did she tell you?

- Oh, um... - Cam hesitated, not sure what to do with this information. - She... Uh...

- Did she say something inappropriate? - Donna asked knowingly. - Joanie likes to shock people sometimes, but I didn't think she'd get to you.

- No, it's fine, I just didn't expect it,- Cam said, seizing on the idea of "inappropriate".

They got in the car and drove home. Cam was driving, and the car was hers, too. She insisted that driving her car to the airport is almost a tradition. Cam tried to put Joanie's words out of her mind, and she and Donna chatted freely about everything and nothing. Both enjoyed such conversations.

There were not many cars on the road, and the ride was quiet. Suddenly, a huge truck that was coming towards them began to shift into their lane. The second truck that followed the first began to hum loudly, and the first truck began to move in zigzags, constantly driving into the oncoming lane and raising dust on the side of the road.

Donna's mind was acutely aware of every detail: the fast-approaching truck, the driver leaning over the steering wheel, the white lettering on his black cap, the glare of the sun on the window... She couldn't move, couldn't make a sound, couldn't even turn her head and look at Cam to see her face before the inevitable collision. Suddenly, instead of the truck in front of the windshield of their car, there was a curb and green grass, and then the world spun in a frenzied dance.

Donna opened her eyes. She was still in the car and felt as if she had been spun in a washing machine. In addition, the hearing suffered from a nasty sound. After a moment, she realized that it was a car signal, caused by Cameron's hand pressing hard on the center of the steering wheel. The fingers of her other hand gripped the steering wheel, white with the force of the squeeze, and Cam's eyes were closed. Startled, Donna touched her shoulder and tried to see if she had any injuries. There was no blood on Cam or her. Both of them were fastened with seat belts, which were fixed in a tight position. Donna struggled to unhook her seat belt and, after making sure she was mostly feeling normal, called Cam:

- Cameron! Cam! Please tell me you're okay!

Cam opened her eyes, removed her hands from the steering wheel, and slowly turned to Donna. Her face was white and she looked as shocked as Donna had ever seen her.

- I almost killed us! I almost killed you! - Cam's voice broke on an uncharacteristically high note.

- It's not you! You did everything right and we are alive! - Donna urged. She plucked up the courage to look outside the car. On the left was the highway, and judging by the traces of twisted grass and earth, they turned over. As Donna stared out the left-hand window, there was a knock on her door. She jumped at the sudden sound and turned around. A man stood there with a worried face. He yanked the door open and managed to open it on the fifth attempt.

- How are you? - he asked. - I followed you and saw everything. That truck stopped on the side of the road somewhere. And you rolled over twice! Do you need help?

Donna looked at her friend. Cam covered her face with her hands and shivered violently.

- Yes, please call 911 if you can. And a tow truck.

The man nodded and started to leave, but then returned:

- You'd better get out of the car and step aside. There may be a fire.

The man left, and Donna anxiously began to pull Cam out of the car through her door. Cam didn't resist, but she continued to tremble, her breathing shallow and rapid. Donna led her away from the battered car, which she was afraid to look at, sat her down on the grass, sat down next to her, and hugged her tightly.

- Cam, listen to me. You did well, you managed to react and make the right decision. We're alive and it's thanks to you.

Cam gave her a bleary look and said a little monotonously:

- We could have died!

- We could, but we didn't die. You were right to turn off the road. In a head-on collision, we had no chance to survive. Now listen to me, just breathe. Come on, slow breath - 1, 2, 3, 4. Hold your breath. Now slow exhalation - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. Well. One more time.

After a few minutes, Cam's breathing returned to normal and her eyes cleared, too. She wrapped her arms around Donna and hid her face in her neck. Donna went on to say everything that came into her head: how great it was to sit by the fire with the four of them, how much she liked miniDonna's funny gestures, about Cam falling into the pool at that party. She could feel Cam slowly relaxing in her arms.

When the 911 team arrived , Cam flatly refused to go to the hospital. The doctor quickly examined them both and said they got off with a scare and a couple of bruises, they were saved by their seat belts and the construction of Cam's car, so they can go home. The driver of the truck fell asleep at the wheel and everyone was very lucky that there were no victims.

In the evening, Donna had a hard time getting rid of the "what if Cam hadn't made the turn " thought and was able to sleep. In the night, she was awakened by a scream of terror from Cam's room . She ran out into the hall and found Haley running out of her room.

- What happened? - the girl asked, startled.

- Looks like Cam's having a nightmare.

They ran into Cam's room and found her crying, but still in a deep, heavy sleep. Donna turned on the bedside lamp and gently cupped her friend's face in her hands.

- Cameron, wake up! You're home, everything's fine!

Haley sat on the edge of the bed and took Cam's hand. Soon Cam opened her eyes and focused first on Donna, then on Haley. She sat up and shook her head guiltily.

- God, did I wake you? I'm so sorry. I was dreaming... I dreamed that I couldn't turn.

Donna put one arm around Cam and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks with the other.

- It's all right. Sleep problems after such stress are normal.

- Well, you go to bed, I don't want to deprive you of sleep, - Cam said, still feeling guilty.

- Try to sleep, too, - Donna said softly, getting up.

- Yes, well, I will, - Cam said.

Donna and Haley left and went to bed.

The next night it happened again, only Cam woke up faster and felt awkward again for the night's screams.

When Donna left in the morning, she didn't see Cam, and when she arrived from the Symphonic, she noticed dark circles under her eyes.

- Cam, you know if you're having trouble sleeping, you should go to the doctor.

- I don't have a problem sleeping, that's the problem, - Cam sighed.

- What do you mean?

- I want to sleep. I fall asleep quickly. But then...

- Then you have a nightmare, and you wake up and deliberately don't sleep until morning, - Donna said.

- I don't want you and Haley not sleeping, either, - Cam muttered.

- But Cam, this isn't an option. You will lose your entire sleep schedule and you may start insomnia.

- All right, all right, I'll try! - Cam said irritably, and retreated to her computer.

Donna looked after her disapprovingly. She knew that Cameron wasn't going to follow her advice.

That night, Cam screamed again. When Donna entered her room, Cam was turning on her computer, sitting at her desk in a white tank top and pajama pants.

- I'm sorry I woke you up again, - she murmured, not looking at Donna. - But you shouldn't have come, so go back to sleep.

Donna realized that Cameron was afraid of resuming their argument. She walked over to the chair where Cam was sitting, looked at her bowed head, and sighed. Then she did what she had secretly wanted to do a long time ago - put her hand on Cam's head and ran her fingers through the tangled strands, moving them in slow, gentle movements. Cam leaned a little closer to her, and Donna thought that was a good sign.

- Cam, - she said softly, - think about this: I'm more worried about your condition than waking up 1-2 times at night. Haley didn't even wake up today. You worry too much about us, forgetting that we worry about you, too.

- I thought maybe I should go back to the Airstream, where I can scream all night, - Cam sat with her eyes closed, not changing her position, not noticing that the computer had finished loading and was ready to go.

- Is that what you want? - Donna asked softly.

- No, - Cam said softly. - But I feel guilty that you have to run to me.

- Cam, I like taking care of you. - Donna pulled Cam's head protectively to her side and felt Cam's warm breath on her stomach through the fabric of her pajamas. - Nightmares - this is a temporary phenomenon. Your brain just needs time to process a stressful event.

- I understand, - Cam's voice sounded sorry. - But what if it takes too long?

- Have you had nightmares before? - Donna realized .

- Yeah. In childhood. After my father died.

- How did you handle it?

- I didn 't. I learned... switch. I became interested in programming and wrote code in my mind when I fell asleep. And then I didn't dream anything. It's become a habit. And now it doesn 't help.

There were tears in Cam's voice. Donna reached out decisively and sent the computer a shutdown command.

- Come on! - she pulled Cam onto the bed. - Lie down and tell me about code that makes miniDonna to respond to mouse movements.

- I don't remember all of it! - Cam protested, but she obediently got into bed and let Donna cover her with the blanket.

- Tell me what you remember, - Donna lay down beside her and yawned.

- Well, - Cam yawned, too. - Donna, are you yawning on purpose? Miss Guile! - she said, feigning anger.

- Mmm, Yes, you've figured out my guile plan, - Donna said, smiling. - But start telling me.

And Cameron began to talk. It was a strange experience, usually she would show the code, talk about it, but reading the code out loud was almost like a spell. After 5 minutes, Donna was fast asleep. Cam turned she lay on her side and studied her sleeping friend's face for a while. Thin, beautifully curved eyebrows, large eyes, a straight nose, a mole on her cheek - everything about her was so beautiful and harmonious. Cam shared the blanket with Donna, turned off the bedside lamp, and closed her eyes, listening to Donna's soft breathing. Soon she was asleep, too.

In the morning, Donna woke up at her usual time. She was once again entangled in Cam's arms and legs, swaying on the soft waves of pleasurable sensations emanating from the soulmark. "I want it to always be like this", - that was her first thought. She allowed herself to enjoy this state for a few more minutes, and then regretfully began to get out so that she could get to the Symphonic in time. Cam slept so soundly that she didn't even Wake up when Donna untangled their arms and legs.

- Sleep, Sleepyhead, - Donna couldn't resist giving her a quick peck on the cheek. To her surprise, eyelashes Cam flinched and she muttered something in her sleep. Donna smiled, resisting the urge to write Cam a note with something like "thank you for a great night", but she was afraid the joke would embarrass Cam and bring back the awkwardness in their relationship. So she went to the kitchen and put a can of orange soda and a clean mug with anchor on Cam's bedside table. Secretly, she loved this mug more than anyone else.

In the afternoon, a courier delivered a bouquet of flowers to Donna's office with a card with only two words written on it - "thank you".

From that night on, Cam else don't had nightmares, which both she and Donna secretly a little regretted.

#theresebelivett #they don't obey me #halt and catch fire #just for fun #Joanie - shipper Cam and Donna :)

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ohsupernaturall · 6 years

Text

LAB RATS (A NALEY FANFICTION) PROLOGUE

I will try to dedicate every chapter to either an account or a person I like, because we all need to share the love. My first tribute goes to @lozkelly , we don’t know each other, but as I browsed the naley tag, hers was the first post and when I opened the blog, it was so much fun. So there we go. Please note that if you are tagged, I am not asking you to read. I just want to give you a random I love you (and/or) your account

Prologue

Nathan and Haley couldn’t remember a moment in their lives where they weren’t in love, and everyone in tree hill was aware of that. They had gone through every life stage together, starting with waddles in the sandpit at three years of age, until seventeen as he put a ring on her finger when she happily accepted to be his wife. But it was indeed an off match, for all their love, they couldn’t be more different. Nathan was star athlete of tree hill high school, leading the basketball ravens to victory in the state championship. On the other hand, Haley James Scott was the school valedictorian, who tutored students for the joy of it.

In this sense, they balanced each other out, and they evened the others’ extremities. Haley has gotten into cheerleading; realizing it was actually quite the strenuous activity rather than mindless girls waving around pompoms, and Nathan would occasionally pay more attention in class, not that he didn’t have his own private tutor whenever he needed.

Standing right below the hoop in the school gym; his own grounds, it was a win-or-lose moment; if he scored that basket they win the championship. And then there she was, Haley with a proud smile that beat the taunting of his opponent Damien West

“You got nothing, Scott, nothing!”

Nathan looked at Damien with a cocky smile, drawing strength from Haley, he threw the ball, without looking; his faith that the world will make it worth it, for him and his girl, was prominent. The cheers were deafening, and Nathan didn’t need to look, to know that he had made the shot, when Haley crashed right into him.

He lifted her off the ground, into his strong arms, her breath tickled his ear as she screamed over the crowd “you did it, babe!!!”

“We did it!” he rejoiced, repeatedly kissing her shoulder, before he was hauled away by his teammates. Haley patted his back playfully as he was lifted on their shoulders, the whole gym cheering his name, and she joined right along.

The celebration lasted long enough, with Nathan high-fiving everyone in sight, receiving the trophy and stealing Haley’s hugs and kisses; those were his favorite. Then it was time to go home. Their little apartment was warm and cozy, not very luxurious, but it brought them together at night and that was what mattered.

It might have not been like that, Nathan was rich, coming from an incredibly wealthy family of three… actually technically four, before his sister had passed, he had cried in Haley’s arms night after night when it happened; the chauffer was taking the fourteen year old to ballet practice, then the next thing they knew, the car had exploded, the monstrosity of the accident was investigated for a long time before declared a cold case, ,many people ruled it to be payback for Dan Scott’s antics, their father, for many people had beef with him. Still, the fact that the kids paid for it, made Haley’s blood boil. Dan was remorseful for a month or so, but then he managed to bounce back as if nothing had ever happened,

Nathan on the other hand, was never the same; they used to play together all the time, along with Haley of course. As a matter of fact, it was her who had blandly declared that he and Haley had a crush on each other.

Of course almost hitting puberty and going through the awkward phases of; acne and hormonal urges for him, braces and frizzy hair for her, reluctance to see each other again, and a desire to kill his sister were there. Nathan and Haley have been best friends since they were three years old, and the notion of their relationship not working out would mean the friendship over. But why wouldn’t it work? They loved each other, more than life itself, always have ever since they met, a deep understanding ran through them and even their friends thought it hard to believe that someone would find their soul mate at such a young age.

So, one summer night as raindrops hit the road, he timidly whispered those three words “I love you” and Haley’s entire face lit up, she jumped in his arms and crashed her lips to his. Overcome with relief and joy, he had entrapped her arms under his, wrapping both arms around her and lifted her up, spinning in circles as the rain poured over their heads. It was then that they knew, forever was together.

When he had told his dad of his plans to marry Haley, Dan was appalled, for she didn’t come from money or status. Hurtful words were thrown around and as soon as his father had said “gold-digging whore”, Nathan stormed out of there, after he threw a punch to the old man’s face. Haley’s parents had welcomed him for the two and a half weeks it took to find a place of his own, also a small job in food service and a night shift at his uncle’s garage made emancipation easy, especially when drug addicted mother was added to the list, Nathan felt bad about it, he loves his mom, but she had fallen through a downward spiral ever since her daughter had died, especially when Nathan needed her most.

Their wedding was simple and special, Haley didn’t even have a wedding dress, and her mother’s wouldn’t fit, so she wore a little white sundress with slippers, and Nathan got dressed in one of the suits he wore for the fancy events his dad threw. Being poor may not be easy, but being with the person you love was worth it all, even those nights when electricity would shut off after they don’t pay the bills; and they would sit up all night playing checkers by candlelight, and the nights when he worked until he couldn’t even move, Haley would come back from her shift as a waitress and remove his shoes and overalls when she finds him collapsed on the couch from exhaustion.

As soon as they entered through the front door, Nathan grabbed her arms, spinning her around, so she would land in his arms; Haley sighed, content, as she nestled into his warm strong body. His hand snuck under her cheerleading top, calloused fingers running across bare stomach. Haley bit her lips, eyes fluttering and body tingling, she leaned the back of her head against his chest, pulling his other hand to her lips and planting soft butterfly kisses where his pulse is.

“Oh, Nathan!” she moaned, as he leaned down and brushed his lips against her jaw line; over a beauty mark, finally reaching her ear and nibbling on the lobe “I love you”

“I love you too, Haley James Scott” he whispered huskily, his kisses moving to the nape of her neck and then down her back, all the way till he was kneeling, planting a lingering kiss on the “23” tattoo she had gotten for him; his jersey number.

Weak in the knees, Haley shakily turned around, Nathan’s kissing never stopping, planting them all around her waist, she scratched his back and head, folding in half over his shoulder. Smoothly, she took off the basketball jersey, as he stood up once more, pulling her with him, her feet lifted off the ground, Haley wrapped her legs and arms around him, so tight, that you would think they were conjoined. Nathan moved them both to the shower.

Haley’s breath hitched, watching the steady stream of water run down Nathan’s sculpted chest and chiseled abs, he poured some shampoo in his hand, massaging her scalp as she kissed his chest, right by his heart, once and again. He moved his shampoo covered hands down her face, leaving a trail of bubbles on her cheeks, making her look up into his sky blue eyes.

“My man played so well tonight” she said.

“Yeah, he did, didn’t he?” Nathan winked at her and she playfully smacked him.

“Babe, be serious. The scouts couldn’t keep their eyes off you. I saw one talking to Whitey”

He shrugged “That could mean a lot of thi…”

“And I might have eavesdropped and heard them say you were a shoo-in for a full scholarship ride to Duke” she interjected, eyes wide innocently.

“Are you serious?”

Haley nodded, squealing with joy, as he hugged her tight, lifting her off her feet.

“What would you do without me?” she teased.

“Die!” he said, kissing her passionately “never leave me”

“I am not going anywhere” she whispered sincerely “always and forever”

“Always and forever”

They spent the next few minutes scrubbing loofahs over each other’s bodies, on every curve, their heart warm and content. In his arms, Nathan held a woman who loved him in spite of all his flaws, who loved the worst in him before the best. He reached out and wrapped a towel around her body, after doing the same for himself, Nathan picked her up, one arm below her knees and the other right under her shoulder blades, and headed to their tiny room.

He dropped her gently on the bed, allowing her towel clad body to bounce on the mattress, and then positioned himself on top of her. Nathan rested his head down her chest, when he felt her tense up.

“Nathan” whispered Haley “did you hear that?”

“What? I didn’t hear anything”

Then sounds of shuffling came from outside once again, and Nathan sat up.

“Do you hear it now?” she asked.

“Mmhmm”

“Should I call 911?” she fearfully whispered to Nathan who was hastily putting on a pair of shorts.

“No, just wait here”

“Nathan!” she warned; her heart in her throat, making to grab his hand “Please!! Just don’t!”

“It is okay” he whispered, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go.

The sounds from outside were coming closer, and Nathan hoped with his heart that it was the neighbor’s cat, it had broken into their house many times before, still, he took one look at Haley behind him and felt his heart hammering against his ribcage, cautiously, he made to grab the baseball bat in the closet. His hands were just twisting the doorknob, when a force sent him sprawling to the ground. Haley screamed at the top of her voice, pulling the towel closer to her body, their bedroom door had flown off its hinges, and in its place stood three masked men armed in machine guns.

“Shut up!” one of them growled, pointing his gun at her.

“Wait! Wait!” panicked Nathan, his eyes fixed on Haley “we don’t have money but take whatever you want, okay, just don’t touch h…”

Sharp pain exploded across his face, as the back of the gun collided with his nose, sending blood splattering in its wake, and Nathan saw stars; his hands went to cover the injury which momentarily hazed his vision.

Haley’s cry of agony was stopped dead in her throat half-way when their guns were once again raised in their faces “Please” she whimpered.

Her plea fell on deaf ears as another one said “get the girl”

Fear gripped Nathan’s heart like a vice, but it was drowned by fury surging through his bloodstream and he growled “No!”

Gone was all the horror of getting shot, Haley being taken away was all he could see. Nathan jumped up and tackled the man coming closer to Haley in great speed, not even shielded with his bat, which was thrown aside upon impact. Nathan had gotten in three punches to the man’s face, when the other two men ganged up on him, their kicks and punches echoed around the small room, all Nathan could do was curl up in a ball and accept the agonizing onslaught, grunting with every blow.

“Stop it” Haley cried in rage, jumping off the bed and on one of the men’s back, he yelped in pain when she caught his ear between her teeth, biting hard, the man threw her off like a weightless doll. Haley’s head rammed into the nightstand and she fell unconscious, crimson blood seeping from her fanned out hair, on her

“Haley” his voice barely came out in an agonized raspy whisper, choking on blood, as his vision began darkening. Before he completely submitted into the abyss, one of the men made a grab for Haley’s limp form, disregarding her dignity and lifted her over his shoulder.

One thing Nathan knew for sure, he has failed at protecting his wife.

#naley #one tree hill #oth #nathan scott #haley james scott #bethany joy lenz #joy lenz #james lafferty #lozkelly #nathan and haley

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