ALEX | a. hotchner (sequel to BLAKE)

13

"Calm down," he said through gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry you have more dick in your personality than in your pants, but I will not stop defending myself."

"Defend yourself from what?" He sneered, "me? Or is it yourself you're afraid of?"

The anger was flowing through me, and I could feel the scared child deep within me, the girl who was taught to fight, the girl who was starved of the love she craved. I hit him in the chest with my fists, punching harder and harder, mumbling profanities under my breath as the tears streamed down my face. He grabbed my wrists and held them tight to his chest, making sure I couldn't move.

"Let me go," I growled.

"You always seem to throw yourself into situations without thinking first, some may think it's because you don't care," he pursed his lips at me, his head coming down to level as he still held my arms hostage, "but it's because you care too much, it clouds your judgement."

"Don't," I warned, "do that."

"You're incapable of letting yourself be happy because of the guilt," he continued coldly.

"Shut up," I whispered.

"You try so hard to hide your emotions, but they consume you," his every word was cold, his eyes were distant and hard, "you can't control them."

I was intoxicated with emotion I had no intention of ever feeling, the acidity of it was residing in my stomach waiting to be spat out of my mouth in foul and vulgar words I would be stared at for saying, except I wasn't going to say them. I was going to screech them with every ounce of breath that dwelled in my lungs.

"What about you, huh?" I threw out. "You wouldn't be able to show any emotions even if you tried! So what's worse? Not being in control of your emotions, or not having any at all?"

Aaron lived his anger, almost as cartoon characters do, so lost in that moment and the torment his brain was in. I saw it in his eyes first, then a tension of his muscles, an inability to think clearly. The rational Aaron was gone and the uncivil Aaron was in the room. He rarely let anyone provoke him to lose his temper, I guess I was different.

"You have this ridiculous hero complex," I snatched my arms back, making him release me from his hold, "you think that everyone you meet, you need to fix," I sneered. "News flash, Aaron! Not everyone wants to be saved by you."

"No, you're a perfect example of that, aren't you?" He spat. "I tried so hard for you, Alex, but you're just impossible."

"That's enough," I said.

Suddenly his liberal opinions were gone, his ability for nuance and emotional generosity were gone, too. His fists stayed firmly by his sides, yet his words did more damage than his hands ever could.

"God," he scoffed and shook his head, "somehow, you always seem to make everything about you," he seethed.

I shook my head furiously, "I am telling you," I begged, "stop."

But he wasn't finished, not yet.

"When Garcia was shot, everyone was worried about you, because you weren't sleeping, Reid found you at the cemetery, you cut your hair, you were a mess," he scolded, his voice harsh. "You live for the attention, you crave it. Because you think that if you're not a mess, then why would anyone care about you?"

This wasn't the man that I knew, that I had fallen in love with. I had never felt so worthless or disposable, never so pathetic and cold. There was something in his words, a truth behind them. The anger I felt was nothing but a shield from that truth, like a cornered soldier randomly throwing out grenades, scared for her life, lonely, desperate. I breathed in slowly.

"What is wrong with you?" I whispered, not even trying to hold back the tears anymore.

"Why are you really here?" He sneered.

I took a deep breath, composing myself long enough to ask the question that had been eating at my brain all night.

"Why would you ask someone else to marry you?"

"I didn't ask," he snapped, but quickly calmed himself down. "She asked me," he sighed.

"And you said yes," I spat, acting as though he didn't have every right to accept.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, "yes."

"Why did you kiss me, then? If you were only going to tell me that you're spoken for?"

"What was I supposed to do?" He looked at me and I knew he was genuinely asking.

"How about not touch me like that, kiss me like that, talk to me like that," I was almost yelling.

"It was for the case," his voice was low, and I didn't know if he was trying to convince me or himself.

"What was for the case? Playing with my feelings? Making me think I might actually have a chance with you?"

"I didn't mean it like that," he shook his head, looking down at his feet.

"How did you mean it, then?" I asked, eyebrows raised in frustration.

He shrugged and pulled his lips into a thin line, "I don't know, I guess I just wanted to know if you still loved me."

I let out a broken gasp, I could taste the salt the moment I opened my mouth.

"That," I whispered, "is the cruelest thing you have ever done."

How was it that his feelings were so different from my own, his way of thinking so alien? How was it that he saw my suffering, and chose to make it all worse? My words left me and my heart fell silent. I had to get out of there.

I stormed out of his room, out of the building and I ran as fast and as far as I could. Once again my emotions turned jagged and my insides tightened. I cried out to those in reach,

I love you, please help me. Come sit with me; hold my hand. Call me friend. Look into my eyes, connect, because I'm falling.

I wait, wide eyed, heart in my mouth, hoping for kindness. I need a hug, even if it is just words. I need soothing like a child. And maybe that's what Aaron meant when he said that I crave the attention, and maybe he was right, maybe I did.

Rose always said my emotions were like hurricanes. She was right. When Maya passed I cried with more violence than any storm. Not to have her right there was torture to my soul. I didn't break quietly, it was like every atom of my being screamed in unison, traumatized that I should exist without her. How do you go on knowing that you will never, ever again see the person you have loved? How do you survive a single hour, a single minute, a single second of that knowledge? How do you hold yourself together?

I sank to my knees in the grass where we had buried her. I cried as if my brain was being shredded from the inside. Emotional pain flowed out of my every pore. From my eyes came a thicker flow of tears than I had cried for even my own mother when she died. We expect to bury our parents one day, but never our best friends. The whole world had vanished for me, now there was only pain enough to break me, pain enough to change me beyond recognition.

I was losing my mind, again. I could feel it unraveling, the threads of every happy memory I could ever recall, all but a disarray of strings scattered about my feet. My sharp knees dug into the earth, my hands unsteady as they silently clawed at the dirt. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out, my head violently quivering as if there was a drill to the back of my skull. My eyes saw nothing, they had lost all sight of what was and what could have been. My mouth was open, an eternal silenced scream, saliva dripping from behind my teeth and onto the ground, stained with the memory of someone I loved, someone who died because of me.

And then I was in his arms, I could hear his faint whispers of reassurance. I was going to be okay, I was safe now, and he was so so sorry. He rocked me back and forth, holding up my sobbing body and reminding me over and over that I was safe now and that he was so so sorry. Aaron's arms held me steady, kept me grounded and all I could think about was how sorry I was, too.