"You don't like me, do you?"
"Wow. Nothing gets past you, Sherlock. Do you keep one of those magnifying glasses tucked away in that little vest of yours?"
•••
Lydia Beowulf works for the Hostage Response T...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
╔══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╗
Let whoever can win glory before death.
Those were the only words on her mind while her foot tapped on the floor as she stood in Anna's destroyed livingroom. The words that so gracefully spread down her spine and greeted her every time she heard her name spoken. She used it as motivation to keep herself from taking things for granted, as whoever can take their glory, should. They should let themselves revel in it and feel the pride that comes with it.
To her, glory wasn't only a triumph. It is the highest honor one could receive, and what is that privilege if not the appreciation of the blessings you receive? So many things in her life was a blessing to her. The memories of her father, the team, but most of all her best friend. And she felt she had taken her for granted. For glory was ultimately love.
If she got the opportunity to win that glory back, she would do anything in her power to feel that rejoice once more. That's why she was standing in Anna's living room the day after finding it in disarray. After taking a restless two hour nap on the couch in the round table room that night, she jumped at the offer to go back to Anna's house to walk through the scene now that they had fresh eyes. She stood there deep in thought with her arms crossed as Emily and Rossi walked around the living room noting the scene.
"So I'm assuming Anna and the unsub came back here and she offered to have a glass of wine on the couch," Emily pointed to the light couch that had some glass shards on it from the shattered table and shrugged. Her raven bob whipping around. "He's in her home, that's where she's most vulnerable."
"When she realized what was happening, she must've put up a fight. For a narcissist like him, that's what made him even more angry. I'm guessing the coffee table was collateral damage." Rossi adds on, his cool demeanor bringing a sense of balance to the situation. They all walked in direction of the stairs, where the carpet runner had scrunched in places and stretched in others.
"She must've gotten away, she's a fighter. She ran up the stairs and he chased her, where he caught her in the bedroom and incapacitated her. He then put her in her own car and left with it." Emily droned on, her words becoming more melancholic. Lydia looked down at her feet and tried to release the air in her knuckles, which gathered the attention of the agents.
"How you holding up, kid?" Rossi asked with his paternal demeanor, despite his lack of children.
Lydia looked up briefly and then immediately back down. The only thing she could think about was Anna. If she was in agony. If their glory could be shared again.
Emily stepped forward and put a hand on Lydia's shoulder, her brown eyes softening. "I know I can't make you a promise, but I will promise that you will get through this."
