7.Savior Complex

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Summary:

Your house is filled with agents, ready to pick apart your old life - yet you still want to help them.

Notes:

hey allllllll ! idk what this chapter is but it's a start! this chapter is cut a bit! but the next one has some kind of ~confrontation (if i may say so myself 😏)

no checks! we die like men! bcs im ina hurry

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In the big empty house – now swarming and filled with law enforcement agents, sleep takes on a different shape. Like a weighted blanket and with a resounding headache – aftereffect of the long plane ride – you drift off completely to a dreamless world. When you wake up it takes you a while to remember where you are. 

First, you see the rays of sunlight dancing over the ceiling, then a few golden and green leaves blowing in, long draping curtains moving with the breeze of your open window. The air smells like dust and dry, like the last evening. You sit up dreading already the view in front of you – the large portrait painting of you and Nathan at your wedding – a glimpse of your past life. Just looking at his face makes you nauseated. Yet, that's not what makes you stand up at once, shaking off your sleep. 

It's the smell of coffee that has overtaken the entire house, even 3 floors up from the kitchen. You hurry to the door then halt, remembering the night before. The agents would be suspicious of seeing you unchanged, unrested, in your own house. You turn to your walk-in closet, throwing the doors open and stripping off clothes on the go. 

You land on the first and easiest outfit you can put on – a loose long dress that is held together by 2 ribbons tied around your shoulders. You kick off your socks next, hurrying into a pair of slippers and running your hand through your hair. These are profilers – you remind yourself. Appearance is key. So, you try your best to look as disheveled but comfortable as possible. When you're out the door, you make a note to rearrange the master bedroom, no matter the duration of their little stay.

In the kitchen you hear voices, recognizing them immediately – Agent Rossi and Hotchner. You slow your steps, quieting down any movement as you walk over the wooden floor. You expect to overhear them talking about you, about the house, or even your father. But none of it is their topic of discussion.

"...and apparently he's doing well in the new kindergarten. Jack has made a few friends." Agent Hotchner says, voice soft and different – foreign to your ears as his words carry a certain lightness with them. You pause – feeling like witnessing an alien appearance, afraid to break the once-in-a-lifetime occurrence.

"Of course he would" Agent Rossi says, voice filled with amusement and fondness. "Jack is always trying to make friends everywhere he goes. Remember that time you told me when he went to the playground and introduced himself to every kid?"

There's laughter from the other man – his baritone voice a pitch higher.

"Yes," Agent Hotchner says, as laughter still accompanies his words, "even to the older kids. He went and asked them their names"

"That kid-" Agent Rossi replies, "is a real treasure"

"He is," Agent Hotchner says, tone of voice changing with a flip of a switch, "I hope it doesn't affect him too much."

The silence that ensues, as does the severity of his tone leads you to assume the reason for the conversation being cut off –his divorce. You'd just never thought it had been so recent.

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