"Are you sure you don't want to dance?" Garcia urges.
"I'm positive, go and enjoy yourself. I'm set." You lift your beer for emphasis.
"Suit yourself!" She's on the dance floor with most of the team. You're content just watching from afar. This is a great way to spend your Saturday night. One of the few that you aren't chasing an unsub. Or dodging bullets. Running through a forest. Tracking up a flight of stairs. The list goes on. Hotch rounds the corner, taking a seat next to you. He has a drink of his own.
"Not much of a dancer?" It takes you a second, because you need to collect yourself so you don't react to those words that mirrored what you'd experienced in the past. You school your features as quickly as you can muster.
"Not really sir. I think I enjoy being off my feet for once. "
"Understandable."
He takes a swig of his beer. You can't stop your eyes from lingering on him. You really wish you could stop yourself from stealing longing glances. You can still remember a bit of what his lips felt like. But you wonder how long until you can't imagine it anymore. Where it becomes nothing but a distant memory.
"I think I'll call it a night." He lifts an eyebrow.
"Already?"
"Yeah. Jet Lag is kicking in. I feel as though it's only a matter of time before my body crashes. I'd rather not be in a smelly bar when it happens. " A small smile inches on his face.
"Do you want me to take you home?"
"No, it's fine. I'm good to drive home. " Standing, you pull out your car keys.
"Someone should keep an eye on Garcia." He gets why you say that when he sees the woman practically grinding on SSA Derek Morgan. Not that he's surprised.
"Have a good night Ms. Black."
"You too sir."
With a little wave, you take off. You manage to keep a smile all the way until you make it outside. The cold air hits you, and your fingers grip the metal of your car keys.
It's barely audible, the little sound you make. But the closer you get to your car, the quicker that tightness in your throat gathers. You don't even get inside. You press your hand to the glass, and the tears come rushing down.
~
"My brain hurts." Garcia groans.
Sitting at the round table, you laugh. You and Hotch seem to be the only ones who aren't displaying hangover vibes. Rossi is doing his best to mask his.It's a given that they're all in a bit of a haze. It's not like they expected to work. You'd been given the time off. Only to be called in early the next morning.
"We'll be leaving in twenty, get your sleep on the ride there. "
Hotch packs up the files and everyone follows as he stands to get ready.
Although you weren't as hung over as everyone, you were still going through the motions. You didn't for one second regret the decision you made. You just wish it had been easier. Possibly a way to get rid of your memories. You anticipated working with the team like nothing changed, yet you didn't think it would be this hard.
Everyday that you saw Hotch, it was like a knife to your heart. For a while now you've been considering your alternative.
Leaving the BAU.
It was a selfish move. You'd just joined a few months ago, and they were still getting used to you. The second you were gone they would have to find a replacement. They'd already been through a lot of change. You knew it wasn't fair to leave them with someone who may actually be bent to Strauss's will.
Yet how were you supposed to keep looking at Hotch and masking your feelings? Sooner or later you would slip, which would be far worse than a transfer.
Why couldn't this be easier?