Sergeant Abigail (Abby) Laurens transfers to the BAU after an operation in Iraq goes horribly wrong and she loses the one man she's ever truly loved. Desperate to escape her guilt she throws herself into her new position but when someone comes back...
warning : violence, depictions of DID and drug references.
ƚɯҽɳƚყ ʂҽʋҽɳ
under lock and key
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abby and Spencer raised their guns at the man in front of them. They took some comfort knowing that the rest of the team were on their way and in knowing that they could hear most of what was being said.
"Put the gun down, Sir." Spencer said slowly. He put his arm out behind him, moving Charlotte behind him protectively.
"Not unless you do first."
"We can't do that. Put your gun down." Abby repeated. The man did not move.
"What's your name?" Charlotte asked from behind Spencer.
The man thought about it for a moment, deciding whether to be truthful or not.
"Logan. Tell me yours, I want to know who I'm speaking to."
"I'm Abigail. This is Spencer and this is -"
"Charlotte. Yes I heard her name. Who are you?"
"You are more than welcome to have this conversation with us when you put down your gun, Logan." Spencer said firmly.
"Who are you!" Logan shouted, switching the focus of his gun between the three.
"We work with child protective services. We're here for a routine inspection of the home, we just want to make sure the children are safe and cared for. That's all." Abby tried to appeal to the paternal instincts that had driven him here.
"Do not lie to me!" He screamed, making Charlotte flinch. "I heard you. I heard everything that you said about me, about Ben. How did you get all that information?"
They assumed 'Ben' was his son.
"We work in child protective services like Abigail said. We know about your son-" Charlotte started.
"Stop talking! CPS doesn't have guns. Do you want to know what I think? I think Miss Charlotte here is from CPS but you two," He looked between Abby and Spencer with disgust, "I think you're cops. What are you, CIA? FBI?"
A small cry came from behind Logan. Abby and Spencer tightened the grip on their guns and pointed them straight at Logan.
Logan reached behind him, keeping his gun and eyes fixed on the three. By the collar of what looked like a pyjama shirt, Logan pulled forward a young boy. Ben. Logan pulled his son in front of him, his arm over his chest tightly.
