~Present Day, May, 2010~
Elle carries me to bed. Rocks me to sleep. Holds my head to her chest and promises not to leave me.
It only makes me cry harder. Because I know, I know that Murphy will use her against me.
I know what choice I'll have to make.
And I already know who I choose.
I don't remember falling asleep, but I remember the exhaustion I felt in my very bones, lingering when I wake up. Elle is already awake and I wonder if she got any sleep at all. One look into her eyes tells me she didn't. Tells me she was up all night, making sure I didn't disappear. Didn't vanish before her eyes.
It's an effort not to start crying again. The tears still linger—the redness of my eyes and the bags beneath, my flushed face and dry lips. Elle kisses me on the forehead. I kiss the tip of her nose. And then she kisses me—really kisses me. Soft and slow and loving.
"How do you feel?" she whispers.
It takes me a long time to answer without spilling into tears again. "L-like shit," I mutter. "But... okay... at the moment."
Elle gives me a sad smile and presses a kiss to my temple. "Do you want to talk here? Or downstairs?" she asks gently.
"I don't ever want to leave your bed," I murmur against her skin.
"Our bed."
"Our bed," I repeat. "But... kitchen. Water." My words are broken sentences that I can barely manage. I have no idea how I'm going to explain everything to her.
She just nods. Gathers me in her arms as she did last night. I let slip a tiny smile as she hoists me from the blankets. But I don't complain. I wrap my arms around her shoulders and bury my head against her chest. She carries me downstairs and lays me down on the couch before heading to the kitchen to get me a glass of water. I barely have the voice to thank her when she sits back down.
I take a long sip, holding the chilled glass in my hands. "I... I don't know where to start."
Elle turns towards me, her arm on the back of the couch and her other hand on my knee. "How about the beginning?" she says softly.
"Okay... I guess that's when I was sixteen." Her brow furrows. I sigh. "I told you it's a long story."
She just nods, giving my leg a squeeze. "We have all day."
"I thought it was Monday?"
"Already called Hotch. Asked for the day off for both of us."
I look down at my hands. "Did he ask why?"
"No."
"Because he knows something's wrong. They all do," I mutter.
Elle's hand moves to where my fingers pull at each other. She grabs hold, squeezing tight. "Keep going. You were sixteen."
"Yeah," I continue. "And I had a best friend. His name was Sam Murphy."
"Was?"
"Was. He was seventeen when... it happened." I pause to swallow. I haven't said it aloud for so long. Years.
"It's okay," Elle says softly. Her thumb strokes the side of my hand. "You can do this. I'm right here with you."
I nod. "There was an accident. Sam... he killed his dad."
Elle's eyes go wide. "His own father?"
"He was an abusive jackass son of a bitch. If Sam hadn't done it the alcohol would have. But... yeah. He was the first person Sam killed."
The word first doesn't get lost on Elle. So I keep going. I tell her everything—how I turned him in, how we lost contact when he went to juvy. How I lost myself for a while, but managed to pull through. Then, college. The FBI. Serial killings. Bodies on top of bodies and crime scene photos burning my eyes. For two years we hunted him. Two goddamn years. And at the end, when we finally got him...
We're both crying when I finish the story. My voice cracks and breaks and dulls to a whisper, but I don't stop until I've told her all of it. Even what happened on the pier last night—and fifteen years ago. Something I never told anyone other than Andrew.
When I'm done, I wait for her to say something. Anything. She's stayed silent the entire time, listening to every word. And now, the way she looks at me, like I'm completely broken...
"Say something," I beg her.
"I... I understand," she says slowly.
"Understand what?"
"Why you didn't tell me. Carli, I—" Her voice breaks. I slide closer to her on the couch, our hands still intertwined. "I'm so sorry," she whispers. "I'm sorry I pushed you."
I shake my head, a hand reaching up to wipe away her tears. "No," I breathe. "Don't you dare apologize. You had every right to want to know. Every right."
She lets out a sob. I pull her closer, kissing away a tear that slides down her cheek. She grabs my neck, holding my forehead to hers. "I love you," she whispers. "I love you, Carli. No matter what happened to you in your past. No matter what... what he did to you."
It's my turn to reel in a sob. I crush her in a hug, our bodies trembling with emotion. I can't find words to tell her how overwhelming it is. My love for her. How it ripples through me, flows through every pore. How it managed to get through the years of walls surrounding my heart and make a home inside.
When we finally separate we snuggle up on the couch, our arms wrapped around each other and my head on her shoulder.
"What do we do now?" she asks.
"Stay alive."
Her arms tighten around me. "You have to."
"I'll try to."
"No." She shakes her head. "No trying. You—I can't—" She cuts off. Takes a deep breath. "I can't lose you, Carli. I need you. So please, stay alive."
I don't look her in the eye as I respond, "I will. And so will you."
"Okay," she breathes.
"Okay."
"And the team?"
"They know nothing. Not even Hotch."
She kisses my hair. "We'll tell them when you want to. Not before."
I don't respond. Only nod my head against her.
"Is he coming for us?" she asks some time later.
"Yes," I answer honestly. Nothing but the truth between us from now on.
"When?"
"I don't know," I admit. "He hasn't started killing yet. Likely securing old assets. But it'll start soon. And then..."
"He'll come for you," she finishes.
I roll into her, looking her in the eye. "It'll be the last mistake he ever makes."
────
Elle drags me out to the woods for a run. I protest, of course, but she's convinced the fresh air will help. And that we'll have a better place to talk without worrying about watchful eyes and ears.
So, she parks along the side of the road, squeezes my hand, and climbs out of the car. When I don't move to follow she walks around to my side and pulls open the door. Hands on her hips, she raises an eyebrow. "You coming or not?"
"Running and I don't mix," I sigh.
She smiles. "Then why do you always come with me?"
"Cause I love you. Duh."
She lets out a light laugh and grabs my hand. "Come onnn," she whines as she pulls me from the car. I let her drag me towards the trail head.
"Elle, maybe this isn't such a good idea—"
"Shush," she interrupts as she stretches. "You need a distraction."
I smirk. "I can think of plenty of other distractions—"
I cut off when she rushes towards me, grabbing my hips and pinning me against a tree. Her lips move to my ear. "After," she murmurs, her breath hot against my skin.
She moves to pull away but I hold her there, giving her a long, slow kiss. "Whatever you say, darling," I whisper against her.
---
"You have surprisingly horrible endurance for how long you can last in bed."
I punch Elle in the shoulder for her comment, but the blow barely lands. I'm bent over, my hands on my knees, debating whether or not I'll survive the twenty feet to the car. I groan as I straighten. "It's stamina, babe. Very different... in bed," I pant.
Elle gives me a crooked smile. "Is it?"
She's teasing me. And it's hot as hell.
I grab her arm, pulling her into me. "You've seen what I can do," I murmur. "I could fuck you for days."
"Someone better wash that dirty mouth of yours," she replies, her voice smooth as silk.
One of my hands cups her waist, pulling her closer. "I think you'd prefer this mouth to do... other things."
Her smirk is taunting. Her hands slide over my bare waist, exposed since I took off my t-shirt half an hour ago. She traces my sides, my arms, until her hands are hooked around the back of my neck. She presses her body to mine, one of my hands traveling to her backside.
She presses her lips to my jaw, cheek, the spot below my ear. "Prove it," she whispers.
Turns out, I can make it the twenty feet to the car. I can make it in as little as three seconds.
Elle opens the door behind her before sliding into the backseat. I climb in after her, closing the door again. Heat encircles us, the car smoldering after sitting in the sun for over an hour in the last week of May. I hardly notice, sweat already coating my skin.
Our kisses are ravenous. Often, there's a gentleness to it, to how I touch her and how she kisses me. A caress, a whisper, our love glowing between every movement of our bodies. But sometimes, when it's like this, when it's so much more than love, it's raw desire and desperate need and the reassurance that we're still here. Together.
I settle myself between her legs, leaning forward to kiss her neck. I pull my hair from it's ponytail and she runs her hands through it, pulling me even closer. I do the same to her, tangling my hands in the strands, soft as silk. Her moans are cut off as my tongue finds hers, creating a dance of their own.
My hands travel back to her waist where they tug at her shorts until they've fallen free. Elle lifts her hips, allowing me to slide away her underwear. She rips her t-shirt off, and then her bra, her body warm and bare before me.
Her moans grow louder with every slow circle of my thumb on the bundle of nerves peaking between her legs. My mouth never leaves her, whether it's at her lips or neck or breasts. She's panting beneath me, her lips parted with the shape of my name, her eyes begging for more.
I smile at the way she's come undone. At the way she lets down her guard for no one but me. Every moment with her, it's something more. More than what I ever could've dreamed of. It's passion and understanding and promise. It's electricity, a current that is made complete by the joining of our bodies.
She tugs on my hair and I bring my lips to my ear. "I'll show you stamina, baby," I whisper as I slide into her.
She doesn't want me to be gentle, she tells me. So I'm not. And when she finds her peak, she holds me close, panting my name into my ear. I can feel her around me, the pleasure coursing through her. I can feel her. I never want to stop feeling her.
I barely give her time to settle as I trail kisses down her body. I press my lips, ever so gentle, to the inside of her thighs. One, then the other, slowly tracing towards the wet heat before me. Her entire body rocks with the first lick of my tongue.
All I use is my mouth this time. She needs nothing more to find her climax again. I groan in pleasure at the taste of her, the wetness that drips from my mouth. I take my time, touching every inch, tasting every flavor. Savoring it. Savoring her.
She finishes a second time, desire dripping from my lips. I kiss her deeply and she clears away the mess she's made, her moans hardly faltering. We're sweating, the both of us, our skin sliding across each other with an added layer of moisture. But we don't turn on the air conditioning, and we don't dare open any of the tinted windows.
No, not until we're finished. Both of us.
She keeps me on top of her. Hooks a leg over my shoulder and pulls her center against mine. Her eyes close in pleasure at the first roll of our hips. A moan escapes my throat at the second. She's relentless, pressing herself to me over and over, knowing exactly what I want and how to give it to me.
Because she knows me. And not just my body. She knows my heart, my mind, my soul. Her hands have touched every piece, every scar, both inside and out. She is the blood that flows through my veins and the beat of my heart.
And without her, I'm nothing.
We arrive at the same time, and it's the most blissful awakening I've ever felt. Her eyes don't leave mine, and I see every part of her in the most beautiful face I've ever seen. Her passion, burning like a fire. Her love, a gentle hand stroking the flames. Her hope. And her fear.
When I come back to myself I slide from between her legs, spreading my body on top of hers. My head falls against her shoulder, my lips a brush over her damp skin. One hand idly traces her collarbone as hers rub my back.
"I won't let anything happen to you," she says. I feel the words in my chest, feel her breath on my shoulder. It isn't empty—it's a promise. A vow that she'll give everything to keep.
I close my eyes, savoring the sweet, vanilla-lavender scent of her skin. Tighten my hold around her, press myself as close as I can.
"I know," I whisper. "I know."