Chapter Twenty: Every Time I Close My Eyes, It's Like A Dark Paradise
Trigger Warning: Mentions Of Rape, Suicide (Important note at bottom)
Despite what information you learned, you told Penelope to bring you to the soccer field rather than the BAU. Seeing a familiar and comforting face was what you needed right now, leaving Celia up to the professionals. You had every intention of seeing her at some point to get some answers of your own. Even when you see the kids playing on the field in blue uniforms decorated with numbers and last names, you couldn't feel all that happy.
You should— considering the circumstances, but you couldn't. The feeling has grown to become foreign amongst other things. Albeit you were tired and so full that you could barely walk, you spotted the tall man with dark hair in a gray t-shirt and jeans. You'd become accustomed to seeing Hotch in more causal clothes though it never got less weird.
"Still not on the field yet?" you ask with a cheeky smile as you approach him.
His body whips around at the sound of your voice , his face not changing its cold expression. You glance down at your feet, embarrassment coursing you at his reaction to your presence.
"No. Dave says we might have to cancel the game. I assume Garcia informed you," he exhaled.
You dust your hands on your pants for no reason as they are clean as a whistle. "Yeah, I figured you'd want to still see Jack, and I did too. Derek has it handled for now— there is no rush."
"I need to get to the BAU immediately," Hotch sneers.
"Watch your kid for a day Aaron, the job can wait." you say, matching his tone.
During this light of day there was no reason for an argument. It was clear that neither of you were particularly happy about this news but in the end it would only help. Jack runs around in his uniform, laughing while playing with the other kids. Rossi watches them carefully making sure they don't injure themselves before the game.
"I am perfectly capable of watching my kid for a day, Y/N. You shouldn't be present in the case anymore, you know the conflict of interest a witness brings, you know the law," Hotch bites back.
Your nostrils flare up as you turn away from him, face painted red with anger. "The law states that you've already broken it, yes? You allowed me to help you work this case but now you suddenly are so resistant about it, after all, you know the law about citizens in investigations."
"This is for your greater good, I'm not going to let you kill yourself over this when the team can do it for you," he says, "I've changed my mind, you're services aren't needed."
"Hotch I'm not going to go down a spiral because of this! Why do you suddenly have a huge changed of heart?"
"You're not trained for this, I will not put you in danger as your superior." Hotch barely spares you a glance of sympathy.
You clench your fists at your sides. Whatever was happening was unnecessary. You don't know what it is, but you know that he found something out and is keeping it from you. Despite efforts, he was easy to read. Fingers rubbing together, jaw clenched with teeth grinding, sweat lining his forehead like he just got out of the pool.
"You found something out didn't you? And you're keeping it from me!"
He shakes his head hesitantly, "I know as much as you do in this moment," he explains.
"God, you're so hypocritical," you scoff, "What did they tell you? You said we weren't keeping things from each other."
Even with the cooler temperature, your own sweat begins to form on your hairline. You wait patiently for his response, yet the silence he serves you is enough of an answer.
"You know what Hotch, I don't know why you're being the way you are, why you suddenly push me away, but if you don't want me in the investigation— fine! I'll leave you alone about it."
Suddenly he turns to you but the bare of his eyes is too much to handle as you turn away. "I know what I said Y/N but we can't continue the way we are going. Strauss is becoming curious and with a non-agent holding confidential information, it's too risky."
You exhale a shakily, angered breath, "The information isn't confidential if I already know about it!" you whisper screamed, teeth clenched.
"Protocol is protocol," Hotch says.
"Of course it's about protocol now!" you fumed, "Even when I was working with the team it always come down to protocol when you were too scared to do something."
"That isn't true."
"Oh, but it is. You decided to take this upon yourself, Aaron," the sound of his name causes a thick inhale, "I could've left it alone."
"You don't understand," he says breathlessly, glancing at the children every few seconds.
"You're right, I don't," you say, walking over to him to obstruct his view, forcing his eyes to glance over your face. "What is it you're protecting me from?"
Faint lines appear between his eyebrows as he pulls them together in contemplation. Knots form in your stomach as you wait for his answer. There was more than the surface you just scratched, more that is running through his brain yet he cannot convey through words. You want to be understanding but your own emotions of pain were clashing with the empathy you desired to feel for his reasoning.
"I'm protecting you from yourself," Hotch warned. "Believe I have your best interest."
"I don't understand," you plead helplessly, gripping his forearm, "You said you didn't want anymore secrets, don't make anymore,"
A callous hand comes to rest on yours, "You're blindsided by your own ambition."
"I find ambition in truth," you argue, "In what was done wrong!"
"You find ambition in praise," his says, voice becoming softer as he peels your hand away, "Not in the truth, no one finds ambition in truth— rather what others province of their character once they've found it."
You bite the inside of your cheek, disappointed in the factual words he speaks. "I want closure for myself, not others, let me have that."
As you speak so desperately to him, you feel an emotion so foreign you don't even want to come to terms with it. You've never felt it romantically. If anything, you felt more drawn to running away now. Aaron has honey pooling in his eyes that pull you in. How could he keep something from you, yet you find it conflicting.
"What you are searching for doesn't exist," he pried, "Y/N you have a false reality of what has happened. You will never see the world the same, no closure will be given to you."
"How do you know that!?"
Before he can answer, a little boy runs up to you two. Jack stands before you, he smells of dirt and sweat and you hold back a grimace at the smell. Jack nearly hyperventilates at how fast he is breathing with a sloppy smile on his face, grass marks on his shin guards and knees. It make you wonder if you really wanted kids or not. There wasn't anything actually wrong with kids but they have no respect for hygiene, that makes you shiver.
Than again, you can't blame them. They can barely provide for their basic needs, so you shrug it off. Hotch crouches down to his sons height, a sudden smile on his face. You can see through his transparent expression, remants of your heated argument shining past.
"Buddy are you ready for your game?" Hotch asks him.
Jack looks at him puzzled, "Uncle Dave said the game was canceled!"
You tilt your head and study their interaction.
"Uh— yeah it was," Hotch lies, "Why don't I take you to Aunt Jessica's? I have to go into work."
Jack frowns, but ultimately shrugs his shoulders, "She has fun games there."
"She does," Hotch confirms, "Let's go."
"But my friends!" Jack protests, looking back at the group of boys and girls. Hotch inhales but let's go of Jacks hand and allows him to go and say goodbye.
• • •
Quite frankly, you don't know how you ended up here. Outside of a tattoo shop, you realized that you were acting irrationally considering you just need a distraction and this was the first thing to come to your mind. You didn't even know what you wanted to get, you just wanted to welcome the feeling of the needle against your skin. Realistically, this would be permanent, but with Hotch gone and Jack away, you had nothing to do.
You step out of your Cadillac you picked up from the garage and take in your surroundings. Even with your very embarrassing inability to shoot a gun appropriately, you carried a knife with you. Your father bought it for you for a graduation present, your name engraved in the handle. You stuck in in your bra, feeling the cold metal against your skin to cool you down.
When you walk in, the speakers boom with music, a deep stench of sterilized material and sweet vape juice filling your senses. You walk over to the large display on the walls, looking over them to see if you like anything. You glance over the strokes of led pencils and markers, nothing really catching your eyes until a more basic tattoo does.
The snake wrapping around the dagger was a bit cliche and overused but you were drawn to it.
A voice behind you nearly makes you jump out of your skin, "Where do you want it?" a woman asks.
You whip around, catching her eye. You glance back at the paper. "My forearm."
The woman's eyebrows raise, "Good choice, I'm Alessandra, call me Ally."
"Y/N," you greet, she had short blond hair, tattoos covering one of her arms. She wore black cargo pants with boots, a belt snatching in her waist, a black crop top matching her bottoms.
She doesn't even ask before leading away to a room, "First?" she asks.
You shake your head before realizing she couldn't even see you. "No, my seventh."
A laugh escapes her lips, you notice how plump they are as she opens the rooms door. Part of you was thankful she was the one willing to do your tattoo rather than someone else. The parlor was quiet, most likely the two of you being the only ones in the building.
"What brings you here in the middle of the day? Don't have work?" she asks curiously, motioning you to sit in the chair by a mirror and sink. Inside the room was full of posters, a speaker, and a cart with supplies.
"I'm on leave," you roll your eyes. She smirks.
"Sounds entertaining," Ally cooed. You shrug off your jacket, leaving you in your loose jeans and corset top. "You never answered me Y/N."
"Distraction brings me here," you shrug. "Rather be here then some man's house."
Despite her not knowing the underlying meaning of your words, she nodded in understanding. You notice the noise piercing she has along with her bellybutton. Ally prepares the materials, grabbing a gel and ink. Soon enough, she prints a stencil, transferring it onto your skin. Even without the ink on your skin you know you'll love it.
Neither of you speak as she begins, you close your eyes listening to the music playing in the background. A slight sting burns your skin but you relax into it, sinking further into the chair as Ally concentrates. You think about Hotch though you try not to.
You wonder what he is hiding and why. Nothing can be so big that he kicks you off a case that you weren't ever— officially on, but still. It just irks you that he changes so quickly. Ally asks if you're okay and you nod.
"You're going to look badass," Ally says, wiping down the ink from your skin. "I can already see it."
"You flatter me Alessandra," you tease, letting your head roll to the side to look at her. She smiles and shakes her head, her perfect teeth on display.
"What do you do? I don't take you as a housewife type of bitch," Ally asks.
"Trust me, I'm not— I've tried," you internally chuckle at your own joke, "Right now I'm technically a lawyer."
"Big career," she praises, "Bet you enjoy taking down people, no?"
You take note of her thick Russian accent and can't help but admire it. What the hell is happening?
"Only the men," you sneer, looking down at your arm. She was nearly finished and you hadn't noticed how time was flying. "Misogynistic fucks."
"I understand, that's why I don't indulge in them unless that are in the mafia and have money, or are too hot for their own good," she explains.
You chuckle lightly at her comment, "Where do you find them?" you asked jokingly,
"If I were to tell you, I would have no one for myself," Ally says. "You're all done."
You sit up and turn towards the mirror over the sink and look at the tattoo. A smile pulls your lips and she placed witch hazel on top along with protective vinyl. Afterwards, you pay and leave a generous tip. Ally gives you her card before you leave and you can't help but feel content. You never really talked to someone like that who isn't involved in your work life or family. It was nice to have someone who didn't know your story as a way of perception.
The sun was just setting over the clouds and you hop into your car just as a phone call from Spencer comes through.
Quickly, you answer out of worry, he never calls anyone.
"Spencer? Is everything okay?" you ramble as your phone connects to the bluetooth over your car.
"H-hey Y/N, actually everything is okay I think, I just uh- I didn't know if you knew yet," he stuttered. Sounds of feet steps transfer over the phone like he is going somewhere quiet.
"What do you mean?"
"Hotch said that you weren't allowed to be on the case anymore b-but I didn't seem to think it was fair to you— considering that you know the most information, can lure anyone out, isn't scared of anything really—" he cuts himself off.
"Reid what happened? Tell me," you demand.
He clears his throat before speaking, "Celia Monroe, we got her to talk a little bit— well Morgan did, I was too scared," he laughs.
"Did you find anything of importance?" you pry. You stop at a red light and take a sip of water from your cup holder.
Your heart was beating out of your chest as you anticipated what he was going to say. "Maybe you can stop by the BAU? I don't think this is something to be told over the phone," Spencer was talking so fast you could barely understand him.
"I can't Spence. Hotch would see me and die of a heart attack on the spot, you know that," you say sadly.
"He actually just left not long ago, said he wanted to make sure you were okay," he explains happily, "Garcia told me to call you because I would be able to get you here."
You sigh and can't help but feel warm on the inside mixed with worry. When Hotch gets home he's going to see that you're not there safely. You look at the time: 6:30. Deciding that your curiosity would get the best of you, you make a quick right turn in the direction of Quantico. Perhaps this wasn't a good idea and Hotch did have a reason to protect you from this, but you deserved to know and that wasn't his decision to make.
"I'll be there soon, wait up," you say before hanging up the phone.
Once you're park in front of the large building, you text Hotch to let him know you're going to be home later than usual because of something that came up. Without bothering to hear his response, you rush into the building, pressing the key numbers for the sixth floor. It was practically empty at this time of day and the known stuffy air has disappeared. You realized that this outfit wasn't the best choice considering the weird looks you get from security guards.
The doors open and you're greeted with the buzzing overhead lights of the BAU. Because of the work you partook in with helping the families, you already knew where the interrogation room were. Derek, Spencer, and Emily come into view, all of them with their arms crossed defensively over their chests.
"Can someone tell me what is going on here?" you sneer, barging into their conversation without care.
Emily averts her eyes to you, a dark look to them. "Celia told us what happened to the money and more importantly, why she felt the need to give it to Axel."
"Can someone spit it out already?!" you say harshly. You were tired of waiting.
They all share a look of concern with your tone of voice. You glance at the two way mirror towards Celia. Her hands were free, hair messy over her face and sticking to her cheeks because of sweat. Her clothes looked expensive, undoubtedly Chanel because of the logo.
"Babygirl, you can go ask her for yourself," Derek urges, placing a comforting hand in your shoulder.
You shrug it off. "You guys are all acting weird, seriously I can't handle it. Please just tell me,"
Emily shakes her head, "Go ask Celia, you won't like it coming from us, trust me."
Your heart sank, the unbearable feeling of uncertainty made you wonder if Hotch was truly right about this. The charade you had going on wasn't going to last, you weren't cut out for this kind of thing. Regardless of the way you felt on the inside, you took a confident step towards the door, opening it without hesitation.
There, Celia sat, head between her hands as you watched her sob quietly. "Celia?" you say, announcing your presence to her.
Seconds time her head lifted from her hands, her tear stained cheeks were red and swollen. "Y/N? What are you doing here?" she cried quietly.
You walked over to the table, pulling the metal chair from the table to take a seat in front of her. Even without seeing Emily, Derek, and Spencer, the feeling of their eyes through the two-way glass was, oh, so burning.
"I came here for answers," you explain, resting your hands, "Isn't that what I told you I wanted?"
"Why can't your pathetic friends tell you, hm? They didn't seem to care all that much when I told them so why should you?" Celia spat painfully.
You pierced your lips, brows drawling together as you look away from her. "I knew Axel was doing something to you— I just didn't know what it was."
"You don't know anything!"
You ignored her, "I wondered if it was the same series of punches and kicks or if he simply thrown you against a wall a few times."
You knew that what you were doing was wrong and winding her up was a sort of torture that you didn't want to partake in but had to. Celia never told you much about her personal life and she wouldn't start now until you pushed her buttons a bit. It was evil and immoral but it had already begun.
"You got the best of it Y/N," Celia sneered, "If you went through half the things he did to me, you would've killed your self a long time ago!"
Leaning closer to her over the table, "So why haven't you?"
The words coming out of your mouth were so vial that you had to physically gulp down the feeling of disgust for yourself.
"You know," Celia started, "I always thought you would understand. Thought that maybe you would empathize with me because you knew what he was like."
"I do empathize with you, Celia," you sigh, "But how can we do anything if you don't tell me what he did to you?"
She shook her head, a broken cry leaving her lips. "It isn't that simple! You think I wanted to give him to money, don't you?"
"I never said that," you protest calmly.
Celia scoffed. "Don't lie to me Y/N. That's the one thing you've always been bad about, your ability to be transparent."
"I simply want a why," you plead, "Why would you leave Tate? Why give away the money? Cecilia it was fifteen million!"
A noticeable flinch comes from her at her full name. You'd never used it before until now. Being harsh was the key.
Tears streamed downed her cheeks, contradicting her efforts to stop them. "I didn't want to," she insists, "I felt so guilty— Axel made me feel so guilty for what I'd done."
You were getting closer to the truth. "Did you ever stop to think about how Tate felt, no? Being left by her mother who didn't even care enough, and for what? For some guilt?"
"It wasn't like that, I didn't want to leave Tate," Celia says, wiping her nose on her sleeve with a sniff.
"Then why?!"
"Because of him!" she yelled, slamming her fists onto the table. You didn't flinch, thankfully, remaining in control of the situation one way or another.
"Axel," you confirmed. "Tell me what he did! You told them!" you motioned behind you to the mirror.
"He raped me!" Celia cried loudly.
You froze paralyzed by her words.
"Axel he raped me," she repeated hysterically, "One night when you had to stay late at work he caught me in the kitchen— told me if I said anything he would kill me!"
You inhaled a sharp breath, she looked deeply into your eyes as you drew your own conclusions. "He got your pregnant?"
Just the thought made you want to curl into a ball. You knew that Axel was capable but not of the unthinkable. That was when you were young and naive, however, now you know that the way Celia forced a hand over her mouth to stifle her sobs that were more real than anything.
"That's why I left for a year," she breathes, "I told him that Tate was from some hookup and he never believed me. Tate always asked who he father was and I couldn't keep it away from either of them anymore,"
"You gave Axel the money to repay for the years he couldn't see his daughter?" you questioned quietly.
Celia nodded her head, the movements were jerky and barely recognizable as communication.
"That's when I saw that Harmony girl. Harmony McGraw. She doesn't want to be there, Axel is forcing her. When I left she pleaded that I help her get away, said she had a life before this all happened. Harmony wanted to be a journalist," Celia wailed.
You clenched your jaw, not uttering a word before exiting the interrogation room. Anger was boiling under the surface of your skin and it wasn't because of Celia, it was because of your own actions.
How could you not see this before and let her suffer while you thought you were getting the worst of it?
-
A/N-
Hey guys, I know many do not read this story but it is important to say that updates will be much slower because school has started again. Being a high school student is a chainsaw to my brain, literally. So, I'm trying to update but my classes are very vigorous for no reason asf.