better have conviction - eclipse_dawn (2024)

Chapter 1: this is why

Chapter Text

Elle looked at the unfortunate amount of paperwork on her desk. She would kill to be out in the field right now, instead of working on these case files, but she knew someone had to do them. She wishes she’d had Reid’s ability to read quickly so she could be done in half an hour, but of course she was never that lucky. Her boredom overwhelmed her, and she rubbed at her temples in frustration.

She learned a long time ago that being on this team for a few months, that earning trust and approval from her bosses was a challenge. Gideon and especially Hotch had been particularly hard on her. Morgan had been less than helpful, only telling her to “show a little leg” next time, and Penelope could barely tolerate her. The only ones who even seemed to give the time of day was JJ and Spencer Reid. JJ, though a bit overwhelming, was their liaison for the media. When they had met, she was greeted with a handshake, and a run down of her information. Elle knew she meant well, but they were such different people.

And Spencer Reid.

He was a young genius, who’s brains got him a good career here at the FBI. Elle admired the man, three years her junior. At twenty-four, he was the youngest member of the team. Elle admired the man, yes man, for his intelligence. She could only imagine what his life was like for someone with an IQ of 187.

Elle sighed deeply, looking back to the paperwork in front of her. The pressure to be the best was intimidating. But she was a tough woman, she could handle it.

Her cell phone started to ring. She flipped it open, leaning back in her chair and answered. “Greenaway?”

“We got a case,” Gideon said on the other end, “Meet us in the conference room in ten.”

He hung up before she could get a word in. She sighed deeply, flipping her phone shut. She let out another deep exhale before standing to gather her belongings. She was thankful she would not have to stare at more paperwork for the moment. She quickly made her way down the hall, moving past other agents, and made it to the conference room. The rest of the team had already been seated. She sat next to Derek Morgan, a playful, cheeky grin covering his face. She smacks him on the shoulder, rolling her eyes. “Don’t even say it.” she grumbled, sitting in her seat next to him.

“Say what?” he teased.

“Don’t play dumb now.” she smirks, tilting her head.

"What? I wasn't going to mention you were last to show up-"

“Oh, I’m sure you weren’t.” she mumbled sarcastically.

"Okay, we got ourselves a new case. Meet the Beaux's. Shot dead in their beds, and their young five year old daughter was found hidden in the closet, alive." Hotch began, his voice steady and unmoving.

A silence filled the room. Cases with children were always extremely difficult, and Elle knew that. Her specialty in sex crimes had her working with women and children constantly. Elle took a deep breath, looking at each of her teammates. Her eyes lingered on Spencer, who’s fingers lingered on the documents of file in front of him. Hotch cleared his throat, clicking the slide show, showing pictures of the dead parents. “Here are some details. Both parents were shot in the neck. The mother was also hit in the back, before it seemed like she was thrown to the floor.”

Elle’s stomach felt like it filled with lead. It was not going to be an easy case. Spencer spoke, his eyes avoiding everyone else’s. “Was there anything taken? The parents' wallets? Any money, jewelry, personal effects?”

Hotch looked at him, not looking at his notes. “No. Nothing was taken, but..." He flicks the slideshow to a photograph of the wall behind the victims bed. In red paint, or blood, was a pentagram.

“I guess we can rule out a sex crime…” Elle muttered. “What does history mention about pentagrams, Reid?”

He looks up from the files. “Pentagrams hold a lot of meaning to different cultural and religious groups, mainly the occult, Paganism, and most known Satanism. I-It’s often used as a protective symbol.”

“Is it an inherently bad symbol?” Derek asked, tossing the paper down.

“No, it can one hundred percent be used as a positive practice in witchcraft.”

Elle stared at the symbol. If this were the case, it felt like it was misplaced with the crime scene. There were no other signs of witchcraft. “What if it’s a distraction? Nothing else points to this being a religious murder. It seems like it’s a simple crime of passion.”

Hotch nodded and looked to Gideon, who was leaning against the wall.

“She’s got a point. The pentagram may not be relevant to the motive. We have to be sure.” He looked at the group. “Morgan, take Reid to the crime scene and see if there’s anything that may have been missed. JJ, I need you to coordinate the press conference. Greenway, you come with me. We’ll question the girl. Wheels up in twenty.”

Everyone filed out of the room, each going to complete their given task. Elle caught up with Spencer in the hallway, grabbing his arm to stop him. “Hey, um...” She trailed off, looking down at the floor, suddenly feeling insecure.

Spence looked at her, his brow raised expectedly. “What?”

"Um..." she pauses, gathering her thoughts. "Could you check with Morgan at the crime scene if maybe if there is any suggestion of child abuse in the home? Just..something isn't stilling well with me."

Spencer took a moment before responding, his face serious. “Yeah, of course.” He pauses. “But... can I ask why?”

Elle fidgets with her shield clipped to her belt. “I just have this feeling. This feels familiar for some reason…”

Spencer and Elle walk back to the bullpen, gathering their belongings for an overnight stay. Elle’s attention fell to the little girl. Five years old is way too young to experience such a horrid thing. She thought Hotch taking her with him was a smart move, and she couldn’t agree more. She knew after the case, she’d probably cry about it, but for now they needed to worry about protecting this little girl.

They all board the jet. Hotch sat across the aisle, flipping through the file and Elle sat next to him. She looked at him, noticing the dark circles under his eyes. She didn’t understand how the man did it with a wife and newborn. When was the last time he actually went home to spend time with them?

The plane ride was quiet, the jet engine being the only noise in her ears. Everyone was occupied in some capacity. JJ was busy writing a press statement. Morgan and Reid sat together, talking quietly between themselves. Elle rested her head back on the seat, but she was unable to relax. She wanted to do everything to make sure she could to protect little Kennedy Beaux.

The jet finally touched down in Louisiana, and the group split. Hotch and Elle got to the grandparent’s house where Kennedy was placed. Hotch and Elle walked to the front door, and knocked. An older woman greeted them, Edith, with tears in her eyes, and led them to the living room. Sitting silently on a small sofa was the young Kennedy, a stuffed bunny clutched tightly in her arms. Elle’s heart shattered at how sad the young girl was.

“She hasn’t moved since she woke up this morning. She’s barely slept. I hope you can get something out of her.” Edith looks to Elle, pleading.

She nods quietly at Edith, feeling a pang of guilt. How could she question a young girl who just lost her parents and her home? Elle sits down on the small sofa, leaving space between her and Kennedy. “Hey there...” She spoke softly, not wanting to scare her.

Kennedy did not budge, just simply held her bunny in a daze. Five years old was way too young. Elle thought for a moment before kneeling in front of the girl. She touched her shoulder delicately. “Hey sweetheart, can you look at me?”

The girl slowly looked up at her, her small face puffy and red from crying. She had some light bruising along her forearm that held her bunny. “I want my mommy…” she murmured, trying not to cry.

“I know sweetheart. But...” She wanted to choose her words carefully, “I need you to talk to me for a little bit. Can you do that?”

Kennedy remained silent, her eyes filling with tears. Elle thought for a moment. “Why don’t we go outside? I saw your grandma has a pretty garden. It’ll just be us, okay?”

Kennedy looked at Elle, her eyes glancing at the window. Elle held out her hand. Kennedy slowly, and wordlessly, took her hand. Elle guided the girl outside, shutting the backdoor behind them. The garden was small, but spacious enough for the two girls to talk. They sat on the bench. Elle sat next to her, giving her a moment to adjust. Elle waited a few moments before speaking. “Do you like your bunny? What’s his name?”

The girl looked at the bunny for a moment before looking up at Elle. “His name is Hoppy…” She answered quietly.

Elle smiled sweetly. “That’s a good name.”

Kennedy played with the ears. “Mommy got him for me when I was a baby.”

Elle looked at Kennedy’s arm again. “Kennedy,” she swallows. “Can I ask you something? It’ll be our secret.”

Kennedy nodded, a worried look in her eye.

Elle squeezed her eyes shut momentarily. “Did your mommy or daddy ever hurt you?”

The girl stayed quiet for a moment, avoiding eye contact. She fiddled with her bunny’s ear, but didn’t answer. Elle felt sick, that pit in her stomach returning. Even though the girl hadn’t answered, the silence spoke volumes.

She gently touched the girl’s small arm, moving her hand up a bit to see the bruises. “Can I see your arm?” She asked softly.

Kennedy handed out her arm, and Elle gently tilted it to get a better look. Three well defined fingerprint shaped bruises wrapped around the girl’s forearm. Kennedy looked up at Elle, her eyes filling with tears again. “Are you going to send me away?”

“Oh honey, no. You did nothing wrong.” Elle steaded her breathing. “I have to ask you…did your daddy ever hurt your mommy?”

Wordlessly, Kennedy nodded. Elle had seen this scenario many times before. Husband is abusive and the wife and children get the brunt of it. Kennedy’s limit seemed to be up, and she started to cry. Elle bit her lip as the girl moved her arms around her neck in a hug. Elle stood up, picking her up. “I know sweetheart…it’s okay. You did good.”

The girl buried her face into her shoulder, Elle held her closely, rubbing her back. She was so used to adult victims, but a child was something so mentally scarring and so deeply disturbing. Elle let herself slip a bit, a lone tear slid down her own cheek.

The case was solved, realizing the sad outcome. The father had shot his wife during a fight about hurting Kennedy. Once in the back paralyzed her, and the neck shot was just for assurance she’d never talk. The husband drew the pentagram to invoke protection for his daughter, a deranged and hypocritical move, before shooting himself. Kennedy had clung to Elle, refusing to let her go, so Hotch put her in charge of watching over the girl. Before they left for the hotel, she gave Kennedy her contact info with her number. Elle managed to get to her hotel room, before her cell phone buzzed. She flipped it open, recognizing the number. “Hello?”

“Hi Ms Elle!”

Elle smiles sadly. The little voice of Kennedy on the other end made her heart squeeze. Elle listened to the girl talk about going on a vacation to Oregon with her grandma. They talked for a few minutes, and Elle heard a knock on the door. She checked in the peephole, only to see awkward Spencer standing there with his hands in his pockets. Opening the door, Elle waved him in, still listening to Kennedy. She gave him an expectant look, as if she was saying ‘sit, please.’. Spencer sat on the end of her bed, patiently and quietly fidgeting with the comforter. He would stim right now if he didn’t feel like it would scare Elle off. He doubted it would, but he did not want to take the risk. He notices Elle biting at her lip. “Okay sweetheart…have fun, okay?...bye.”

She hung up, snapping her phone shut. A heavy exhale escaped her body. “Sorry about that. That was the little girl from the case.”

“It’s all good,” his hands now in his lap, picking at the texture of his pant leg. “How is she doing?”

He knew these cases were always difficult. Elle had stayed the whole day with the traumatized little girl. He watched her expression carefully. She collapsed next to him on the bed next to Spencer. “She’s doing the best she can under the circ*mstances.” She paused before looking at Spencer directly. “Reid..”

“Yes?”

Elle fidgets with the cell phone in her hand. "Do you ever wonder what really, I mean really, happens after we leave the victims' families?"

Spencer pauses, thinking about her question. He never really considered or dwelled too much on the aftermath. “Not really, but sometimes. Why? What were you thinking?”

Elle shrugs. “I dunno. I just think about the trauma she’s going to have to deal with at such a young age. I mean what if it happens again? What..”

She drifts, afraid she was revealing too much to the man next to him. Spencer stays quiet, observing her body language. Her shoulders were tense, her elbows were set on her knees, holding her head in her hands. Dark rings circle under her eyes with fatigue. Worry etched her face. He knew this case was weighing heavy on her. “Maybe…keep in touch. Keep up with it. It might make a difference.” He paused, realizing how grim it sounded. “We can’t write the fate of what happens. We can try and prevent more people from going through those tragedies.”

“You’re right. I just…it’s so hard sometimes.”

Spencer smiles awkwardly. “I know it’s all said and done, but for what it’s worth, you did the right thing. Kennedy will not forget you.”

Elle returns the tight lip smile. “Thank you, Spence. It means a lot.”

She lays back on the bed, her legs hanging off the end of the bed. Spencer saw her shirt hem rise a bit with her torso, showing a small sliver of her tan skin. He looked away, grown nervous. The pair are quiet for a moment, until Elle finds her voice again. “Can I ask you a personal question? And please don’t laugh at me.”

“Sure.”

Elle bites her lip. “Do you think I’m good at this…do you think I make a difference?”

Spencer seems surprised, not expecting such a question from someone so confident and headstrong. “You know what I really think? I think you're one of our best. You have this natural instinct that the others don’t have. You make such a difference.” Spencer finishes his mini speech, pushing up his glasses.

Elle nods wordlessly. She was unsure if she believed him completely, but knowing it was coming from someone like Spencer, she knew his word had merit to it. She sat back up, her hands on each side of her thighs, gripping the comforter. Silently still, she leans on Spencer's shoulder. Spencer does not make any sudden moves, simply letting her rest her head.

He could feel her weight resting against him, and he wondered why she had chosen to lean on him. He was just some nerdy kid with a big brain. She could have gone to Derek, or even JJ. He tried not to overthink it too much, simply enjoying the closeness between them.

Elle sighed deeply, taking in the warmth of Spencer’s body heat and comforting silence. This was the closest to content she was going to be for the night, even if it was only temporary.

If only she had just been content with doing paperwork.

Chapter 2: the news

Chapter Text

A few weeks later, Elle was once again in the bullpen at her desk. She had been out with the team, case after case for a few weeks on end. The mental burnout was starting to catch up with her. She groaned, rubbing her forehead. The headaches had been getting worse, a constant throbbing in her temples. The words on her computer screen were starting to blur together. She knew she should leave, but the thought of going home and staring at the ceiling was more exhausting than pulling an all-nighter here.

The cases and their details started to overlap. Murder. Suicide. Mass Suicide. Rape Homicide. Another Murder. The photographs of each crime scene were practically tattooed on the inside of her eyelids. It was haunting her at every waking moment, and she knew if she fell asleep, she’d have nightmares.

The sound of the clock ticking on the wall echoed through the empty space. She usually preferred the silence, but tonight it felt too loud. It felt as if the room was whispering to her in some sick way, reminding her of the horrors they see everyday. Elle stared at the papers in front of her, her body heavy with worry, guilt, shame. She clenched her fists, trying to push those feels back into the deepest part of her soul, willing it to go away. It did not take long before she shoved her chair away from her desk, and willed herself to walk away for a moment.

The room finally stopped feeling so overwhelming. She stretched, needing to walk around to move her legs. Elle decided she should probably use the restroom, and get a snack from the vending machine. Elle padded her way down the long hallway to the ladies bathroom. The hallway felt longer at night, the lights flickering on after sensing her presence. Elle was curious as to how no one else was in the building. She would have thought some kind of custodian would be here. She figured the lucky bastard also took a day off.

She entered the bathroom, the tiles echoing the sound of her footsteps. She noticed all of the stalls were unoccupied, as she made her way to the sink. Turning on the faucet, she let the cool water run over her hands, the sensation leaving chills up her spine. She observed her tired reflection briefly, before bending down and cupping the water to bring to her face. She attempted to splash away the exhaustion that had consumed her. She turned off the faucet, grabbing a paper towel to pat her face dry. She just finished when she heard a click noise from behind her. Elle whipped around at the empty stalls, all of them still unoccupied. She must have been hearing things. Elle continued to glance around, suddenly feeling the urge to leave.

Elle threw out the paper towel, and pushed the door to exit the bathroom. Elle looked down the hall, feeling as if the long hallway had somehow felt like it had been stretched longer. The lighters flickered more ominously now, and the chills ran up her spine. She decided to quicken her pace to the vending machine. The vending machine at the end of the hallway seemed to tease her, with its neon glow and slight humming noise. She finally made it, looking at her different options. Suddenly, the echo of footsteps were heard behind her.

Elle turned around to see a figure at the end of the hall. She could not tell what the figure looked like, but she recognized the build of the person as masculine. “Hello?” she called out, seeing if they would respond.

She was met with silence. She looked behind her again, but instead of the vending machine, she was met with more expanse of the hallway. “What the-?”

The once normal hallway now felt like a labyrinth, shifting before her eyes. The sound of footsteps echoed again, closer this time. But when she looked behind her, nobody was there. Her heartbeat quickened, and she felt the urge to run. She picked up her pace, but she heard footsteps approaching behind her faster. She turned her head, no one behind her. She could hear the quick footsteps chasing her, hearing them come closer. Her mind, along with her heart, was racing. Her breathing quickened. She felt the sweat forming on her forehead, her breath coming out in ragged gasps. She ran until she was stuck in pitchblack, the room now feeling smaller. “Help!” she yelled, hoping someone would hear her.

“They can’t hear you,” a voice whispered right in her ear.

Elle screamed, turning to hit whoever it was, but she felt no one there. She frantically looked around, but the darkness enveloped everything, making it impossible to see anything. She suddenly was blinded by a spot light suddenly turning on in front of her. Elle’s stomach dropped when she saw her father standing there in his police uniform. He was still as could be, she couldn’t even tell if he was breathing. “Daddy?” she whispered, already starting to weep.

His mouth opened, blood pouring from it like a waterfall. Elle covered her mouth to muffle the cry she let out. Her dad’s eyes turned white, and an inhuman scream left his body. He still remained unmoving, seemingly staring right at her. Elle stepped backwards, then suddenly fell down a hole that appeared out of nowhere. The world spun around her as she fell, her body tumbling through the dark abyss like a rag doll. She felt like she had no voice, but she wanted to scream. She fell for a moment until hitting the cold ground, knocking the wind out of her. She laid there for a moment, coughing, and trying to push herself up. The silence was deafening, and the feeling of being watched never went away. She stood up, her legs unsteady beneath her. Slowly, she took a step forward, holding her arms out in front of her.

Then without warning, all kinds of lights turned on and she was back in the bullpen. But instead of empty desks, agents of all kinds were standing inhumanly still, all staring right at her. They all looked as if they were in a trace of sorts. She willed herself to use her voice, but all that came out of her was a strangled whimper. Her colleagues continued to stare at her, unmoving. Elle felt someone touch her shoulder, and she whipped around. Not even a few inches from her, was Hotch, but instead of eyes, she was greeted with black voids. Elle was too scared to scream, and could only stare in horror. Hotch opened his mouth. “THERE ARE RULES.” he stares blankly. “THERE ARE CODES. THERE ARE TRUTHS.”

Another hand pulls at Elle, showing JJ in a similar state. “OPEN UP. LET US INSIDE.”

Another yank, and Derek is in her face. “THEY’LL ALL DIE. YOU CAN’T SAVE THEM.”

Elle pushes Derek away, but ends up running into Garcia and Gideon. “WHY BOTHER? NO ONE CAN SAVE YOUR SOUL. YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE ONE.”

Elle yells, and runs out of the bullpen, feeling like she was being chased. Elle is suddenly yanked upwards by a strong force, and she comes face to face with Spencer. His face was even more distorted than the others. His eyes were black, and he didn’t even have a mouth. She tried to wrestle from his grip, but he maintained his hold. She was trapped, surrounded by the very people she had grown to trust and rely on. But now, they had turned into terrifying monsters, their words ringing in her ears. "Rules." "Codes." "Truths." What did it all mean? Her gaze snapped back to Spencer as he made a noise, the sound echoing in the eerie silence. His lack of a mouth should've made it impossible for him to speak, yet he somehow managed to let out a noise. The noise is guttural in nature, and the most terrifying noise she’d ever heard. She’s suddenly shoved backwards.

Elle yells out, and she finds herself on the jet. Spencer was standing above her, his hands gripping her shoulders. He looked normal, mouth and all. She stared up at him, her eyes wide with shock and confusion. Her breathing is heavy and she realizes she just woke up from a nightmare. “Elle, it’s okay. It was just a dream.”

Spencer’s voice was like music to her ears at that moment. She tried to regain her composure, but she was shaking. “That felt so real…” she managed to say.

Spencer’s grip loosened a bit. “It was just a dream. You’re on the jet. We just got back home.”

Relief filled her veins, as she sat up to look at her surroundings. The jet was empty except for Spencer and herself. Her breathing slowly calmed, and she looked back up at Spencer again. “That felt so very real.” she reiterated, still in shock.

Spencer's hand moved from her shoulder to her forearm, a comforting gesture. “I know. Come on, let’s get out of this jet. We have a mandatory week break, ordered by Hotch.” he assures, helping her to her feet.

"Mandatory week break?" She repeated, surprised. “I must be still dreaming.”

Spencer smiles, appreciating Elle still had her sense of humor. “Nah, this is real. Hotch can tell we all need it.”

She followed Spencer down the steps of the jet, her feet hitting the ground with a thump. Her black combat boots walked next to the blue converse of Doctor Reid to catch up with the group. Her eyes scanned her team, relief flooding her again as she saw each one of them. They were all normal, no twisted features or missing mouths like before. Hotch turned as they approached, looking right at Elle’s exhausted frame. “You look like hell.”

“Wow, thanks.” Elle muttered in response.

Morgan smirked, looking at Elle with a raised eyebrow. "You okay, Greenaway? You look like you've seen a ghost."

She rolled her eyes, her usual sass returning slightly. "I'm fine, Morgan. Just a little jet-lagged, that's all."

JJ gave her a sympathetic smile, noticing the slight tremble in her hands, but she remained silent. The team gathered their bags, and got ready to head home. As the team headed towards the exit, the exhaustion hit her even harder. The dream, if that's what it was, had taken a toll on her mind and body. Spencer caught up, moving right next to her. “Hey, are you sure you’re okay?” he whispered.

She mustered a small smile. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow, not really believing what he was being told. He opened his mouth to protest, but she beat him to it. “Seriously, I’m fine. I just need some coffee and a shower, and I’ll be right as rain again.”

Spencer looked unconvinced, but he knew better than to push her when she was in this mood. "Okay," he said reluctantly. "But if you need to talk, or if anything else happens..."

Elle gave him a genuine smile this time. "I know," she replied. "Thanks."

Elle eventually ends up back at her apartment. She does exactly what she told Spencer. She drinks a nice cup of coffee, two sugar, one cream, and takes a long shower. But she doesn't feel right as rain, and she definitely does not get sleep that night. She looks upon a newspaper sitting on her kitchen table. She scoffs before tossing it in the recycling.

She had enough horror stories for one day.

Chapter 3: running out of time

Chapter Text

Elle never really understood completely why Gideon never fully trusted her. She remembers the first time they met, he made it obvious he was not impressed with her. She thought it had something to do with her trying too hard to get into the BAU position, but she realized he was informed that she was labeled as ‘impatient’. To her, this was something she was not aware was in her file.

She couldn't help but wonder if this was an unfortunate twist of fate, a cruel joke played on her by the universe. Maybe it was karma for those times she had failed to show up for others. Elle struggled with feeling inadequate within the team, but the inadequacy seemed to follow her everywhere since she was young.

At eight years old, she tried to learn how to ride a bike for the first time. When her father had to tell her he had to go to work and couldn’t teach her, she told him she hated him. Later that evening, Robert Greenaway was shot and killed in the line of duty. Elle never tried to learn how to ride a bike after that. The guilt she felt from not learning how to ride the bike when her father tried to teach her became intertwined with her perception of her ineptitude.

As a teen in Brooklyn, she had almost every reason not to piss her mother off. Everything became a screaming match, with her mother cursing her out in Spanish. One incident in particular, when she was sixteen and got her navel pierced, resulted in her mother yelling, "¡La gente va a pensar que eres una puta!"

A slu*t. That’s what her mother had reduced her to over a hole in her belly button. Another incident that stuck in her memory was that time when she stumbled home late from a party, high as a kite. She convinced herself that her mother would have killed her if it hadn't been for the fact that she was hunched over and puking her guts out from having “greened out.” But every time her mother scolded her for her decisions growing up, she couldn't help but feel guilty, realizing that perhaps her actions did make her mother's life harder.

Her mother wasn’t the reason she had felt that way. That role went to her stepdad, Daniel. Dan had anger issues, and that barely was half of it. If he wasn’t drunk to the point of no return, he sure as hell was beating on her mother. “We speak English in this f*cking house, you hear me?”

One night in particular, Elle decided she needed to step in. She was just barely eighteen and was about to leave for college the next morning. Dan was close to hitting her mother over the head with a rolling pin when Elle shoved her mother, and gripped his arm mid swing. The tension in the room was palpable as they faced each other, both holding strong stances, refusing to back down. He struggled to free himself from her grip as he shouted, “Get your hands off me, you little bitch!” he growled, pushing himself in an attempt to get loose from her grasp.

"I won't let you hurt her anymore, you bastard."

The unexpected strike from the rolling pin sent her stumbling backward, pain exploding across her face. The room spun around her as she slowly pushed herself up off the floor. Her fingers made contact with her face, feeling a wet sensation where the pin had connected. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her body was in shock. Dan had never laid a hand on her before, not like this. He was more of the verbal berating type when it came to his stepdaughter. He had hit her a couple times, but nothing like this. Elle managed to look up at Dan, looking shocked at himself for his violent outburst. “Ellie-”

“Go to hell!” she yelled, her mother rushing to her side.

Her mother, panicked and shaking, quickly pulled her into the bathroom and guided her towards the sink. As she leaned over the basin, her mother splashed water at her face, attempting to stop the flow of blood from her nose. Despite the obvious bruising under her eyes that formed later that night, he continued to insist that she was overreacting. “It wasn’t like I really hurt you, you’re overreacting.”

“Are you trying to convince me, or are you trying to convince yourself?” Elle spat back.

He took a step forward, his presence towering over her. “Don’t you talk back to me!” he growled.

Elle got in his face. “Good thing I’m leaving to get a career in putting sh*tbags like you in prison.” she leaned in till she practically nose to nose with him. “I bet those criminals wouldn’t hesitate to show you what happens to scumbags like you who beat their wives.” she whispered, an almost psychotic smirk crossed her face.

For the first time in a long time, Elle had made it her life’s mission to make men like Dan suffer. And now she was committing to something with unwavering resolve. This became the one thing in her life where she felt she could help be the voice for the victims of those just like him.

But even then, she felt inadequate. She did her job. She supported the victims. She sent men like her stepdad to prison, but still. Was it enough? Did her contributions really provide a sense of security to those she sought to protect? Those questions lingered in her mind like a shadow.

Elle was currently in the hall of headquarters in Quantico. From Brooklyn, to Seattle, now to Quantico felt like a screwy game of ping pong. As she made her way down the hall, her thoughts were interrupted by a sound emanating from the conference room. Curious, she approached the slightly ajar door and peeked inside. Inside, Spencer Reid was going through files and photographs of their latest crime scene. Some were pinned to the board, and others were organized along the round table. Elle sighed before knocking on the door frame, pushing the door open a bit more.

Spencer heard the door, looking up. “Elle, hi.” his awkward demeanor peeking through his greeting. “Come in.”

He gestured to her to come in and join him. Elle smiled softly, entering the room. “Hey, Spence. How are you coming along? Are you seeing a pattern?”

Spencer returned her smile, his awkwardness momentarily giving way to a warm expression. "Not quite yet. There is some overlap, but nothing set in stone," he looks her up and down for a moment. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

Elle shrugged slightly, leaning against the edge of the table. “To be honest with you, I’m not sure. I figured maybe I’d be useful somewhere other than at a desk.”

"You know you're not the type to just sit around and fill out paperwork," he commented with a smirk.

He could tell she was getting restless, itching to be involved with nailing Randell Gardner, who had been stalking the BAU for sometime. Spencer’s poor schizophrenic mother ended up in the same mental institution with him. Elle gave a saddened smile. “I’m really not. I just really want to get this guy. His connection to your mom, and his delusion of us being knights at the round table…”

Spencer nodded, his expression a mixture of frustration and worry. "It's like there's something just beyond our reach," he said, taking his fingers through his unkempt hair. “I just keep thinking if I look harder at these photos, that maybe..”

Elle took a seat next to Spencer, crossing her legs. “I know you want to find something, anything that’ll give us a lead,” she acknowledged. “But sometimes you have to give it time. It’s like my mom used to say - 'patience is a virtue'.”

As the words left her mouth, Elle internally cringed, wanting to kick herself. She couldn't help but bite her lip at her own hypocrisy. Spencer chuckled too, clearly aware of the irony. "You're one to talk about patience," he teased, a playful glimmer in his eyes.

The feeling of inadequacy filled her chest, and her gaze shifted. Sensing the change in her mood, Spencer noticed the shift in her demeanor. "Hey," he said gently, his tone filled with concern. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry…”

Elle opened her mouth to speak, but instead slowly stood up. "I know you were teasing," she replied quietly after a moment. "It's not your fault. It's just...I think I need to go home. Get some sleep, maybe?”

Spencer’s face fell, his hand flapping next to his thigh discreetly. “Elle…”

Elle squeezed his shoulder. “Spencer, it’s okay. I think I’ve just been in this office a bit too long. Good night…”

He let out a sigh as he watched her leave the office, feeling a pang of guilt for not realizing the effect his words had on her.

It wouldn’t be until the next morning where he was informed Elle had been shot in the chest in her own home. He managed to make it to the parking lot outside the building before stumbling to the side, where he doubled over and vomited into the grass. The woman he just spoke to last night, the one who he had teased was now fighting for her life in the hospital.

Elle fought for her life that night. As she was asleep, she got to speak to her dad in what felt like purgatory. Elle tried to tell Robert that her life needed to end, and that she was ready to join him. Her dad convinced her not to. “Peanut..” he called her as he told her that she had so much to offer the world. Elle cried, apologizing for her words towards him before he didn’t come home that night. Robert told her to forgive herself.

And with that, she woke up.

Elle could hear the nurse next to her, but her words were muffled. She could feel the oxygen tube in her nostrils and the massive gauze on her chest, exposed to the air above her. She couldn’t hear anything, or feel anything else but anguish. A lone tear streamed down her cheekbone into her hair. No one was there to wipe it from her face or provide her comfort.

Maybe she was running out of time, but so were they.

Chapter 4: c'est comme ça

Chapter Text

Elle Greenaway was a woman who liked to maintain herself and her career. Sometimes, both of those things felt like a challenge. Being shot in the chest, surviving for that matter, took out some stability she had. She grasped at the chances she had to maintain balance, but her walls were starting to crumble. Even then, it seems she still has some degree of disorder she needed to keep it together.

Elle came back to work four months after her shooting, a new woman.

Her hair was chopped short and she had got bangs. She had graduated from working on her physical therapy. Of course, no one knew that her hair cut came from an old pair of scissors she owned. In a fit of a dissociation episode, she cut her hair, chopping inches off of her head. Seeing what she had done, she sat on the cold bathroom floor, surrounded by discarded locks, sobbing hysterically.

Her team had missed when the physical limitations her injury had caused on her and the psychological trauma of the shooting incident had led to her freaking out on her physical therapist. Her therapist had to prematurely stop sessions because Elle’s anxiety was too great to get her started on any exercises. The mental roadblocks took almost two weeks to overcome, Elle finally let her therapist work with her.

She came back to work, timid as a mouse. She sensed her peers staring her down, and she felt somehow smaller. She was a shell of her former self, and they could all tell. She ended up in the bathroom, letting a debilitating panic attack take her over in the far stall. She ended up doubled over the toilet, vomiting as the wave of panic crashed over her. She ended up leaving after hearing someone come in to take a smoke break in one of the far stalls, rather than outside.

Reaching the correct floor eventually, she runs into Spencer Reid in all of his nerdy glory. He had changed a bit since she last saw him, his hair was longer and cut a bit differently. His reaction to her was unexpected, as the usage of her name, followed by a ‘wow’ made her feel warm inside of her chest. Those two words provided her with much more comfort than from anything else the past few months.

“Nice haircut.”

Spencer smiled, observing her own hair transformation. He took in the fact her curls defined themselves more, and that her fair seemed to reflect his own. He wanted to tell her that she stole his look, instead he told her he liked hers too. They banter back and forth, and Elle slowly starts feeling much better about showing up to work. This was familiar and normal, and Elle craved those after being deprived.

Hotch approaches them, seemingly surprised to see Elle back so soon. His greeting was short, and if anything, bittersweet. He immediately started talking about a case. Spencer looked to Elle, seeing her eyes almost glaze over in a state of dissociation. He wanted to shut Hotch up so he could check in on her. Before Spencer had a chance to intervene, Elle mustered the courage to interrupt and ask a question, only to be quickly shut down by Hotch. Frustrated, Spencer watched as Hotch issued an ultimatum - go home or go with Spencer.

Spencer cringed as Hotch walked away from the pair, not bothering to stick around to find the answer. Elle looked to Spencer, her eyes bright as she found some sort of peace in Spencer’s presence. “I’m all yours, Doctor Reid.” she declares, making her decision known.

The team ended up in Cleveland, looking into a case involving a young boy put up for auction by a child p*rnographer. Spencer never left Elle’s side, committed to making sure she was okay. Elle ended up going into the field without Hotch’s knowledge. Spencer and Elle were outside the school when their boss saw them. They had caught a suspect, and Elle quipped, not thinking twice. “I told you to stay out of the field.” he exclaimed, frustrated at Elle’s impatience.

“Yeah, I know! But Reid said you wanted us!”

Spencer was taken aback by Elle’s blatant lie, not understanding that she wanted him to back her up. “No, I didn’t!”

“Yes, you did!”

Hotch sighed deeply. “I’m sure you didn’t, Reid.”

Elle and Spencer ended up walking away, Elle hitting him on the forearm gently with her own. “Thanks.” she muttered sarcastically.

Spencer knew that she was frustrated, and he silently cursed himself for not understanding what she had wanted from him. He let her walk away ahead of him for a few moments before catching up and walking alongside her.

“Elle, I’m-”

“Let’s go back to that office. That laptop has got to be somewhere”

Elle and Spencer combed around the Principal’s office for a while, Derek keeping an eye on the man himself in the other room. Spencer was pulling at drawers until he came across one that was locked. He jiggled the drawer, but it would not budge. “Hey Elle, this one is stuck. I wonder if there is a key somewhere…”

Elle looked up from the desk. “I got a better idea.”

Elle moved her way towards Spencer. She moved him aside with a gentle hand to his bicep. She pulled out a small hairpin, and got to work on the lock. She skillfully worked the lock, her hands moving with precision and finesse. He couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for her resourcefulness. “Did you learn that in FBI school?” he asked, inquiring about her previously unknown skill.

Elle smirked, the drawer's lock clicking. Spencer watched in awe as the lock clicked open beneath Elle's adept touch. “Nah, they taught me that in Brooklyn.” she says, a playful tone in her voice.

The tips of Spencer’s ears heated up at her response. That response felt like it was a small opening to her past, and he smiled at the idea of her telling him more about life in Brooklyn. He pictured a teen Elle, running about the New York streets in some type of street wear. He wanted to ask her about it, but for right now, they needed to see what was in that drawer.

Cases came and went the next few weeks, and Spencer was noticing a pattern in Elle’s behavior. The once playful, fun going, headstrong woman had become more timid and reserved. He could see the paranoid looks she would get when being in a new environment, and the dissociative states she’d get in during meetings. Her brown eyes would glaze over, void of all feeling. He wanted to confront her, to ask what was wrong, but the timing never seemed to be right. The team was swamped with cases, and there was hardly any time to breathe, let alone talk about personal issues. He figured he needed to give her time.

It wasn’t until one night when they were in the parking garage. Spencer and Elle were left last, Spencer walked ahead until he heard a soft gasp from behind him. He looked around, seeing Elle looking around the car. Spencer peaked his head further around the corner. “Elle, everything okay?”

Elle turned to look at him, her grip on her bag tight, making her knuckles turn white. “Yeah, I think I just left my glasses in the car.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow curiously. He walked closer, a good few feet away. “I can stay here and wait for you,” he offered.

Elle took another look back at the car, then back at Spencer. “You know, let's just go. It’s not a big deal.”

“Okay, I’ll keep you company.”

Elle gave a tight lipped smile, her dimples displaying on her cheeks. She paced quickly towards Spencer till they were side by side, and walked to the hotel. As they walked, Spencer couldn't help but notice the rigid way she carried herself. Her shoulders were tense, and her steps were quick and anxious. He knew this wasn’t the time nor the place, so he kept his mouth shut.

An hour later, everyone in their separate rooms, Spencer was in his pacing back and forth. He could not stop thinking about Elle. He replayed their conversation from earlier in his head - her nervous actions, the tense way she held herself, the subtle unease in her eyes. He could not erase the image from his head. Without hesitation, he walked out the door to the next door where Elle was staying for the night. He knocks ‘shave and a haircut’ on the door. Elle made her way to the door, looking through the peephole. She opened the door after seeing it was Spencer.

“Hi.” he greets, awkward as usual.

“Hi.” she says back, in slight surprise.

Spencer doesn’t leave her room till an hour later. He’s buzzed, and confused about what the hell just happened. Elle brought him in, offering him a drink. The next moment, he was telling her she ‘won’ for surviving her being shot. She smiles at him with such kind eyes, and it makes his insides turn to applesauce. They drink more, and Elle tells him she’s okay, and she thanks him for spending the time with her. “This is the most fun I think I’ve had in months. Thank you, Spence.” Spencer left Elle's room feeling a mix of tiredness and warmth from their unexpected bonding session. He fell asleep quickly, his mind swirling.

Meanwhile, in her room, the door clicked shut behind Spencer. The weight of her emotions came crashing down. Once alone, Elle allowed herself to cry, the tears streaming down her face as she wept quietly. The exhaustion and emotional turmoil eventually took its toll, and she drifted into a fitful sleep.

It isn’t till a week later where Elle has to go undercover as a single woman for a rapist to track down. Elle insisted she was ready to do it, and she quickly got ready. Elle is wearing a black knee length skirt, and a maroon button down. In the conference room, she was working on getting her mic placed between her bra. Her shirt was unbuttoned a bit, revealing the scar she had been hiding from them.

It was a dark pink line running down the almost dead center of her chest like some sick religious painting. She recalls telling Spencer how Gardner shoved his finger inside of her wound, and how it felt like she could still feel it. Derek noticed the scar first, then Gideon and Hotch. No one dared to speak as they stared at the scar, the implications of its origin hanging heavily in the air.

Elle went into that house. Spencer was not at the location, but he was on edge thinking about her in the house by herself. He did not doubt her ability to defend herself, but it scared him to death knowing she could really go to a dark place if she wasn’t careful. All seemed okay, and she suddenly moved at a determined pace down across the street, her glock tight in her grasp. “FBI, drop your weapon!” she demanded through gritted teeth.

This would prove to be a big mistake, as because she moved prematurely, they could not hold Lee. Elle was enraged by this, she stormed up to Gideon. “Back off, Elle.” Derek warned, holding her back softly.

“You’re letting him walk?” she asked, a sadness and frustration in her voice.

Spencer watched and Gideon and Hotch both told her she was impatient, and could not hold him because, in reality, did nothing to her. “We would have had you back.”

“Do you really think you got my back?” she asked, her eyes widening.

“What are you talking about?” Hotch asked.

Spencer bit his lip, trying not to butt in. Hotch knew damn well what she meant. She was spiraling for months. How the hell did he not notice? ‘I couldn’t have been the only one to notice…’ Spencer thought to himself.

The pair continued to argue, and Elle spat: “The last time you sent me home, Hotch, you got me shot.”

There it is. Spencer sucked in air through his nose. He heard Gideon ask her to walk with him, grabbing her bicep to pull her into a spare room. Spencer felt sick to his stomach, but the words couldn’t leave his mouth. Moments later, Elle exited the room, tears filling her eyes. Spencer reached out for her, but she shoved his arm out of the way and out of the building. Spencer looked at Derek and Gideon, a sad expression crossing his face. He couldn’t bear to see her like this, torn between protecting her and respecting her space. He felt caught in the middle of a war he did not want to be in. He decided to stay for the time being, to give her space.

He would come to regret that very action. Elle had taken her glock, and shot Lee in the chest. She told an officer that she had done it in self defense. Spencer felt sick to his stomach, thinking about what could have happened. From the look in Hotch’s eye, he could tell she had not come clean. Spencer felt at a loss. His mind filled with all the opportunities he could have stepped in to talk to her. Knowing she was harboring all of this rage against the team made his heart shatter just thinking about it. He couldn't help but feel responsible in some way for her actions. Spencer excused himself, finding a spot down the street far from the crime scene. He sat on an empty bench for a moment.

The meltdown he had been shoving down for weeks now finally surfaced. As Spencer sat on the bench, the emotional toll of the situation hit him in waves. His tears streamed down his face as he rocked back and forth, his hands clenching his hair tightly. He felt like a failure. He failed to protect her from herself, and at this point, the team.

The next day, Elle turned in her badge and gun.

Spencer saw her heading to her car. “Elle!” he yelled, running towards her.

Elle turned to look up at him, a sadness etched in her face. Spencer paced till he was right in front of her. “Y-You’re leaving.” he said, noticing her badge and guns missing from her possession.

Elle bit her lip, nodding. Spencer's eyes searched her face, looking for any hint of the woman he had grown to care about so deeply. He crossed his arms, contemplating what to say next. “Elle, I’m sorry.”

Elle looked up at him, her eyes unwavering. “Why?”

Spencer felt his breath hitch softly. His voice caught in his throat as he answered her question. "Because I should have been there for you. I should have known something was wrong. I'm sorry I couldn't help you befo-"

“Spence,” she cut him off. “It’s not your responsibility to make sure I’m okay.”

Spencer looked hurt, but Elle continued. “Spencer, you have been there for me more than you think. I know you care deeply, and you prove that everyday. Don’t lose that empathy just because I’m walking away.”

Spencer rubbed the back of his neck, trying so hard not to fidget with his hair.Elle smiled at him, her eyes softening. She knew how hard he was struggling not to stim. “Spencer, you know you don’t have to hold back from self soothing, right?”

Spencer felt a heat in his cheeks. “Sorry…”

Elle let out an airy chuckle. They both stood silently for a moment, before Spencer swallowed his fear. He enveloped her in a tight hug, holding her close, his chin to the top of her head. He could feel her relax against his body, her arms surrounding his mid back. His large hands rested at her shoulders, where he felt the tension leave. He heard her sigh softly into him, her body instinctively pressing closer to his. They remained unmoving for a moment, before they pulled away. Elle hit the unlock button on her keys, and opened the door. She turned to face him once more. “I’ll see you around, Doctor Reid, okay?”

He nods wordlessly, waiting for her to sit before shutting her door for her. As he watched her drive away, his heart ached thinking about the hug they shared.

It is what it is, right?

Chapter 5: big man, little dignity

Chapter Text

Elle’s time spent at home was minimal before she packed a bag, and drove all the way to New York. She played her many CDs she owned as she drove along the highway. Over five hours later, she was standing in front of her old childhood home in Brooklyn. The house looked the same, if not a little run down. She could practically hear the music from her old parties with her friends, the constant giggling and loud talking, and the smell of cigarette smoke. None of which took place in her own home, minus the cigarettes. She swallowed her hesitation before quietly knocking on the door. Elle’s mother opened the door and immediately observed her, noticing the leather jacket and pants. Elle’s mother, Mariana, had on a bandana covering her hair, which was now a salt and pepper color. “It’s about time you came here for a visit.” she scolded, waving her inside. “Get in here, you’ll let the bugs in.”

Elle entered, shoving her hands in her pockets and taking in the sight of her old home, memories of when she was a young child flooding her mind. “Yeah, yeah Mamá.” she replied, nonchalantly.

Leaning against the far wall, Mariana observed her daughter. “What the hell are you doing back here in New York, Chica?”

Elle shrugged, already having an idea that her mother already knew why she had driven up here. “You’ve come here to talk, hmm?”

“Where’s Dan? I’ve yet to smell his foul stench.”

Mariana’s face soured at the name of Elle’s stepdad. “He’s long gone. Last I heard, he was on the street begging for change.”

An awkward silence followed, Elle trying to comprehend how her mother was managing to live on her own, all without her knowledge.

Mariana chuckled. “What, the thought of me without a man makes you feel weird?”

It was like she could read her daughter's mind. Elle started to really wonder who the real profiler was here. “No. If anything, I’m just glad I don’t have to see that sh*tbags face-”

“¡Idioma, mija!” her mother scolded.

Elle huffed. “I’m just calling it what it is.”

“I’m telling you one more time, watch your tone.”

They’d had this exchange many times before; Elle was a stubborn and defiant child, still rebellious in her adult years. Mariana knew she could still call out her daughter, even if she was twenty-seven years old. Elle rolled her eyes, sitting on the arm of the sofa.

“How’s your love life?” Mariana asked, walking into the kitchen.

Of course she asked that. Elle rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time, following her to the kitchen. “No, not really.”

Mariana raised an eyebrow, reaching into the fridge, grabbing two beers from the fridge. “Really? No one at all?”

Elle fidgeted with her hands, not wanting to discuss this with her mother. She understood she would never get any peace if she didn’t give her an answer. She ran a finger through her hair, her curls wild and loose. “There’s…someone. At work.”

Mariana raised an eyebrow. “Okay? And-” she gestured for her daughter to keep going, opening the beer bottles before setting one in front of Elle.

The cold bottle of beer made for a nice distraction, as she took a sip from the cold bottle. It tasted like sh*t, but it would do the trick. “There’s just..”

Elle couldn’t really find the words she was looking for. She had not really thought about her complicated feelings for her co-worker. She quit, and left him stranded in Quantico to deal with the aftermath of her exit. Her mother waited silently, drinking out of her own bottle. Her mother could practically see the turmoil in her daughter’s mind; she’d known her all her life of course. “Who is he?”

“My co-worker…” she reiterated, struggling to not go into detail about it.

“What’s his name?” her mother asked, her beer now resting on the table, and she grabbed a pack of cigarettes from her pants pocket.

“You’re still smoking?” Elle asked, avoiding the question.

“Are you still going to police me on it? Or are you going to take one and tell me this boy’s name?”

Elle sighed, caving in and grabbing one of her mother’s newports. She snagged her mom’s lighter, lighting the cigarette. This had been a common occurrence for the two of them long ago; as much as Elle hated her mother smoking, she eventually adopted the habit herself, and would sometimes even accompany her mother in an occasional cigarette. Her mom puffed on the cigarette held between her fingers. “His name?”

“Spencer Reid.” Elle finally admitted.

“And you two have…” she trailed off, waiting for her daughter to explain.

“No. I left before I could get that far. I didn't even really think about it till I already left.” Elle puffs on her cigarette, the stream of smoke leaving her lips.

“What do you mean ‘left’,” Mariana asked, before her eyebrows raised. “Did you quit?”

“I did.”

Mariana didn’t anticipate her daughter to drop everything. “Why did you quit?”

She shifted in her seat. “I felt like I needed to look out for myself, y’know?”

Mariana squinted at her daughter, knowing she was hiding something. “¿Lo que realmente pasó?” she asked, more demanding.

Elle puffed on her cigarette, putting it out prematurely on the ashtray sitting on the table. “Nothing happened.”

“Bull.”

The two women were at a stalemate, both too stubborn to let it go. “Don’t give me that face, mami,” Elle warned.

Her mother rolled her eyes, taking a drink from her beer. “Don’t give me an excuse. ¿Qué realmente pasó?”

Elle exhaled, knowing she couldn’t dodge the subject for forever. “I was shot in my apartment. I had a freak out and ended up killing a rapist who got let go. He threatened to rape other women, and there was nothing we could do. I left and quit because I didn’t think they would want to deal with me anymore, okay?”

Her mother paused, processing the information she had just been given. Her shock lasted for only a second, quickly shifting to anger as she stood up. “Qué carajo, Elle?!”

Elle tried to defend herself. “Mami-”

Her mother cut her off, putting out her cigarette. “Don’t Mami me! Elle Francesca Greenaway, what the hell were you thinking? You thought it was okay to leave yourself vulnerable?” her mother exclaimed. “And why didn’t you tell me?!”

A wave of guilt washed over her. Elle knew she should have told her mother about what was going on. But now, her mother was furious. “Mami..” she tried again to reason with her.

“Stop. Just stop. Dios mío, Ellie. You left, you quit, you decided ‘oh, you know what, I’m just going to remove myself from everything’? And you didn’t tell me?!” her mother exclaimed, standing up from the dining room table.

The worst thing about her mother’s anger was that she was right. It was true that Elle should’ve told her, it was true that she shouldn’t have left herself vulnerable by leaving the BAU. Elle felt herself standing up as well, her rage boiling over. “Mami, I left because I go to sleep at night, and I have to be reminded of being shot. I felt his f*cking finger digging inside of my wound, and he wrote out a word in my own blood! I almost f*cking died, and had to come with terms with that! I can’t f*cking sleep! I can’t eat! I can barely stand hearing the phone ringing without being paralyzed! So forgive me if I could not take a f*cking minute to call you!”

By the time Elle finishes ranting, she is breathing heavily. Mariana was quiet momentarily, allowing a moment of silence to pass between the two of them, and allowed her daughter to calm down. She knew her daughter was on the verge of a mental collapse. “Ellie…”

Elle let the walls she had built up for so long to come crashing down. Tears streamed down her face while sobs escaped her lips. She felt broken, destroyed by her own emotions. Mariana, without saying another word, closed the space between them. She wrapped her arms around her weeping daughter, and led her to the couch where she held her, rubbing her back. After several minutes of crying and letting everything out, Elle’s sobs slowed to a stop. Her mother held her in her arms through the entire episode, silently letting her release all the pain she had suppressed for months.

“Ellie, do you remember what you told Dan the night he caught you in the face with a rolling pin?”

Elle sniffs, nodding into her mother’s shoulder.

Mariana looked up towards the ceiling. “You told him that you were going to be the one to throw men like him in the slammer. And you did. You worked your ass off to get into the FBI. I remember the smile you had on your face when you graduated. I was so proud of you.”

Her daughter had been a handful, and had been reckless and disobedient in her younger years, but her passion had always been obvious. Elle looked up at her mother. “And now look at me.”

“Do you not think I’m still not proud of you? Ellie, I’ve always been proud of you. There’s never been a moment where that has even been put into question.”

“I’m a mess, Mamí. I don’t even know what the hell to do. And I…” she drifted, considering her next words carefully. “I think I need help.”

Mariana smiled softly, caressing her daughter’s hair. “That 's all I needed to hear. Te amo mucho mi niña hermosa.”

Elle stayed with her mother for a week. She went about with her mother, running errands, and going out with her. They spent time looking around where Elle used to roam as a teen. Elle’s smile slowly started to come back, as she loved being home with her mother. The last night she stayed, Mariana and Elle were drunk, half way through a pack of cigarettes. They were giggling about childhood memories and their youths. At around one AM, both women had grown quiet. Elle was strumming on an old acoustic guitar left behind by her biological father. She was strumming to “Love Alive” by Heart. She was singing softly, her voice carrying around the room sweetly.

“Baby I want you to roll me,

Hold me in your love.

No more habits, promises and jive.

Ever since I was a baby girl,

Wanted one thing most in this world.

It was to keep my love- keep my love alive..”

Mariana smiled at her daughter. Robert would have been so proud of his little girl. She was stubborn as a mule, but she had grown into such a passionate, beautiful young woman. “Your father would have been so proud of you, mija.” Mariana said, puffing her cigarette.

Elle paused her strumming and singing for a moment. “I don’t know. I think he would be upset that I quit.”

“Maybe…” She paused, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. “You know, you reminded me so much of your father.”

Elle looked up, setting the guitar down, leaning on the sofa. “Yeah?”

“You both had a lot of similarities. You were both stubborn, and passionate, and loyal - a bit of a smart aleck,” Mariana smirked. “You’re both too smart for your own damn good.”

Elle smiled sadly, seeing her mother reflect on her one true love. “He was definitely a charmer, your father. I don’t know where he got that from, certainly not from his family or my own. But God, he was charming.” she smiled. “He was definitely a special man.”

Elle gave a tight lipped smile, thinking about her father. She only got the privilege of being with him for eight short years, but from how her mother talked about him, he might as well have been still alive. “He’s really the only man I’ve ever trusted. He set the standard of a good, gentle man.” Elle said, snagging another cigarette.

Mariana smiled. “What about Spencer?”

Elle was just about to take a drag of the cigarette when her mother posed the question. “What about him?” she asked. She didn’t sound harsh or rude, more she was covering the fact that his name made her feel a fluttering inside her chest and stomach.

“He’s a good man, isn’t he? He seems to be the only man you don’t seem to have a bad thing to say about.”

If Elle’s expression did not give it away, her reddening cheeks definitely did. She took a long drag of her cigarette, trying to distract herself from the pounding of her heart. “Yeah, Spencer’s a good man… I never said he wasn’t…”

“I know you did not, Mija,” her mother said, puffing on her own cigarette. “That’s why I’m asking.”

“What are you asking me, Mamí? What exactly do you want to know?”

Mariana leaned on the recliner a bit more, observing her daughter on the couch. “You love him. He’s treated you well, and you left. He probably misses you, and from how you talk about him, you do too.”

Elle fidgeted on the couch, taking another drag of the cigarette. There was no point in trying to lie to her mother. “Yes. I miss him.”

Mariana smiled at her daughter. “Then you need to go home and go get him.”

“You make it sound so easy, but-”

“Life is never going to give you a guarantee. You’ll never have a guarantee of success or how a situation will go. But if you don’t try…” her mother’s voice trailed. “Who knows?”

Elle paused, putting out the butt of the cigarette. She really had to stop smoking these. “You’re right.”

Elle said goodbye to her mother the next day, giving her a long hug. “I’ll give you a call when I get home, yeah?”

Mariana smiled, sad to see her go. She really enjoyed the time she got to spend with her daughter. She leaned into her ear. “Ve a buscar a tu hijo, nena. Quiero conocerlo eventualmente.”

Elle smiled. “Goodbye, Mami. I love you.”

And with that, Elle hopped into her car, and made the trip home. Elle reflected on her discussions. Maybe men were really the scum of the earth, but there were definitely some good one’s out there.

Doctor Reid was one of them.