THIS IS BOOK TWO! PLEASE READ SILENCE FIRST AS THERE ARE SPOILERS IN THE SYNOPSIS
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updated regularly
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Nearly a year later and [now] Sergeant Major Abigail Laurens has managed to do the seemingly impossible. But most importantly, she has managed to...
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Abby had spent the last month desperately trying to pretend she wasn't falling in love with Spencer all over again, simply because she didn't know if he was falling back in love with her. They had only had the opportunity to go out for dinner twice, the cases had seemed relentless since Abby had returned into the field - which had also meant that she hadn't really had time to process...everything.
She had been meaning to speak to Hotch, who had told her that whenever she needed someone to talk to, she knew where he was. She had needed someone to talk to, desperately - and someone that wasn't the FBI psychiatrist, but the last month had consisted of them finishing a case, getting six hours sleep (if they were lucky) and then being called straight back into the BAU. And now, once again, Spencer was knocking on her door at six thirty am.
"Hi." She greeted him grumpily, opening the door halfheartedly - not having the energy to open it all the way, or greet him happily. Not that she wasn't happy to see him, she was just exhausted - they all were.
"You're looking wide awake." Spencer smirked.
She tilted her head and squinted her eyes. "I liked you better when you didn't understand sarcasm."
Spencer laughed happily, but then he had always been a morning person. "Hopefully this will just be a short case and we can come home and get some rest."
"Yeah, I'm not holding my breath, Spence."
Spencer eyed her suspiciously. She was continuing to repack her go-bag, taking the same clothes out and putting them back in again, like she was stuck on some kind of loop.
"Abby..." Spencer said quietly, the smile wiped off his face. "You've already packed that you know? Three times."
She looked at the sweater in her hand that was hovering weakly over her bag. "Right - yeah, I'm just-"
"If you say you're just tired one more time - "
"I don't think I can do this job anymore, Spence." She blurted out suddenly, taking them both by surprise - she hadn't expected to actually say it. Outloud. To another human being, not just her reflection.
Spencer didn't know what to say; was he supposed to just say okay? Was he supposed to try and talk her out of it?
"Why?" He finally settled on asking the only, productive, question he could think of.
Abby sighed. "I don't think I've had a proper nights sleep since I was about 18." She laughed humorlessly. "I know I'm good at this job and I enjoy it, which sounds sick but I do. I am lucky that I get to have a job that I really enjoy and look forward to waking up to - normally, but this, all of this," She gestured to her suitcase and between the two of them, "Isn't normal. Spence, we 'broke up' because I faked my own death. I mean, just say that aloud, to another person and watch their face twist in horror. I faked my own death. And yet here we are, still going out for dinner! We were locked and assaulted in a prison by two of the most prolific serial killers in America's history. As a team we haven't slept for more than like twenty hours a week in the past month and we've quite frankly racked up enough air miles to single handedly cause a rise in C02 levels. Hotch and JJ haven't seen their children for god knows how long. Do you want kids?"
