The rest if the day went by im a blur. I could only remember bits and pieces: J.J. holding me tight and smoothing my hair, Garica going out to buy me some high calorie hor chocolate and then watching me chug the whole thing. Spencer was always there in the background, watching, not wanting to burden me with his random statistics. That was my only recollection of the day until now.
Derek was fixing dinner even though he knew it would take some fighting to get me to eat it.
I was sitting on the couch. my arms wrapped around me knees, wimpering. Whenever I put the blanket over my face, Derek would always come over, pull it off, kiss my forehead, and tell me "we're gonna catch this guy, Abby."
But I didn't believe him. How could i? It's only been two months since he killed my family and now the Rodgers? Why? I told myself not to think about it or I would drive myself insane. So I didn't.
Derek knocked me out of my train of thought when he said, " Abby, come and eat somehting."
I shook my head; the last thing I wanted to do now was eat. But I knew it wasn't worth the fight, so I got up and made my way to the table.
I ate. But only enough to make Derek satisfied.
"Abby," Derek said delicately as I was just about to get up. "Do you still want to do this?"
I felt my heart turn to stone. I had no pity for Marcus. He deserved to die and I would see to it even if I had to pull the trigger myself.
********************************
The next day at the office, I could tell something was off. Something happened, a secret that no one would share.
I briefly knocked on Hotch's door before opening it. Derek had offered to talk to him for me - along with other things about my mental well being - but I declined. This - as well as so many other things - I just had to do myself.
"Hello?" I asked, not sure if anyone was actually in here.
"Abigail," Hotch said, swirling around in his office chair to face me.
I nodded. "I need to talk to you, sir."
Just then, a picture from behind him fell from the small table.
"Your wife?" I asked as he quickly righted the photo.
"Yes," he replied, his gaze now ice cold.
In the dim office, it was hard to see Hotch's expression. I guessed it was the same impassive mask he always wore.
"I know, " he said, forcing a hard smile. "I need to open the blinds. "
I was about to say something, the word rising in my throat when he said," I could tell because you were looking at the lights and the windows. I ccan open them if that would make you more comfortable. "
"Hotch. You don;t have to treat me like a victimim anymore. I want to be part of this team. I want Marcus dead just as much as you wanted the Ripper dead, " I said seriously.
All traces of easygoing-ness gone, Hotch stared back at me. Sometimes I wondered how he could never smile, but then I remember his job.
"I need to know that you can handle yourself," he replied, not breaking his stare. His voice had a ring of authority to it that I didn't like.
"I can," I said in a strong voice.
"Yesterday you left here in tears. Is that what you call 'keeping a grip on things'?"
That wounded my confidence. A lot.
I cleared my throat anyway. "That was yesterday. "
He threw me an unbelieveing look.
