~ all that chit chat is gonna get you hurt ~
A part of me wanted to apologize to Dave, knowing I over reacted, but a bigger part of me was pissed.
I had no reason to be, I don't even know why I was so mad, but I was.
Maybe it was the concept of a family that got to me.
I had been hurt to many times by family or for family that I didn't want to add any unnecessary pain.
I know what family did to people, hell I was the distraction, kept the kid busy well Tomas killed each father or mother who didn't pay him back.
The kid might not understand the words their parents were screaming but I did.
The 'no's' and 'please don't's' haunt me at night.
I have my family, my siblings, that's enough pressure, enough worry, enough stress.
I know I can protect them.
I would never forgive myself if I couldn't protect Aaron or Jack.
I couldn't forgive myself if I made the promise to be part of a family and them to get hurt.
There is to much to lose if something goes wrong, I never want to hurt as much as I did when Max was murdered.
I never want anyone to hurt like that.
I never want anyone know what I'm feeling so they won't worry about me, because then I have to worry about them.
I just don't want to become attached and be hurt when someone gets shot or dies, or even just ignores me.
I'm fine with how I am now, and I wasn't about to let anything change.
*
The strong aroma of coffee lulled my out of my sleep.
I raise my head from my elbows, my brown eyes meeting a dark green coffee mug.
Scrunching my eyebrows together, I sit up in my chair, my neck slightly sore.
Eyeing the coffee, I look around the room, trying to find the source of the caffeine.
I hand falls on my shoulder, causing me to grip the hand and bend down, throwing them over me into my desk.
I glare him, "How many times do I have to tell you guys not to touch me," I growl out.
Dereck let out a low grunt, "Sorry princess,"
I just roll my eyes, "Fuck off," I mumble.
Ya I know, real mature, but honestly I don't care.
Turning on my heel, I walk away, ignoring the fact that my desk is literally broke in half.
Standing in front of the coffee machine someone clears there throat behind me.
"Look Agent Morgan, not really in the mood,"
The room stays silent so I turn around, raising my eyebrows in surprise when I meet a different pair of brown eyes then I was expecting.
Leaning against the counter behind me, I give mystery man a questioning look.
He studies me, much like Rossi or Hotch, before speaking, "You do look like him," was all he said.
I let out a small chuckle, "Hotch?" I ask, even though I already knew the answer.
"Your not going to ask who I am?"
I shake my head, "Nah, that's what you want me to ask, besides, I already know who you are," I state, grabbing my coffee cup.
He nods, studying me more, before walking forward to shake my hand, "Jason Gideon," he introduces him self.
"Tatum Cortes," I say confidently, shaking his hand.
He steps back, biting the inside of his cheek, "Can we talk?" he asks.
I raise an eyebrow, "Depends on what the context of the talk is," I say, drinking my plain coffee.
He pierces his lips shrugging, "Whatever comes up,"
"Ha," I laugh out "Mysterious,"
He shrugs motioning for me to follow him.
Now, I'm not really in the mood to talk to anyone about anything, especially a profiler, but I respect him to the point were I won't blow him off.
I nod and follow him, us both ending up in the conference room.
I lean against the wall, knowing that it wouldn't be a very good impression to sit on a table, "So Hotch is your dad?" Gideon asks rhetorically, more so he can gage my reaction to that question.
I'll bite, "Biological father," I correct, trying to be as polite as I can.
He nods, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms.
I made sure to keep my body language open, by my face emotionless, "Why are you so closed off from the idea of Hotch actually becoming someone you call dad?" he questions.
I shrug, "I'm not,"
"I don't believe you," he comments.
I take in a sharp breathe through my teeth, "I don't know what to tell you, there is nothing I can do about your lack of trust in me," I reply, a small ounce of sarcasm in my voice.
It silent for a couple seconds, "You are really young to be a FBI agent, I heard that they didn't even make you do training,"
I click my tongue, "Ya, apparently I'm pretty smart,"
"I've noticed,"
Again with the silence.
Quiet, almost awkward silence.
SSA Gideon let's out a sigh, standing up, "You're tough to profile,"
"Isn't it a agreed upon rule not to profile a colleague,"
He shrugs, "I don't work here anymore,"
"I've heard,"
Gideon copy's my body language, "You smoke," he states, earning a nod from me.
He nods back, "Controls anxiety or PTSD, in your case, I say both."
I shake my head, crossing my arms, "This isn't really a conversation," I state.
"You are defensive, private, hate it when people can tell what your feeling. It makes you vulnerable and you hate how that feels," he continues, making me break eye contact.
"Now what stumped me for a bit was your maturity level for your age, usually that only happens with single parent households were the kid gets pressured with more responsibilities. But you had both parents growing up. Then it hit me."
I tilt my head to the side, as if to ask him 'what?', "Your father was never home, and when he was he was drunk, physical. He always tried to find an excuse to be mad and leave again, and your Mother didn't try to stop the behavior," he pauses studying me, "No she followed him around like a lost puppy, clinging to him, agreeing to every word he said."
I pierce my lips, letting out a 'hmm', "Congratulations you figured out my daddy issues, want a medal?"
At this point I was done with the whole, I'm polite shit.
Gideon doesn't respond, just continues his train of thought "I did think it was daddy issues at first," he said, scrunching his eyebrows together when he spoke the words 'daddy issues' aloud, "Fear of Hotch not being around, then a thought popped into my head."
This seems like a one sided conversation.
I raise my eyebrows in response, "You know Hotch would be a good dad, that's what scares you. You're scared that you'll get close to him and he'll get hurt, or decide to leave-"
"That's enough," I snap, my voice deathly calm.
The calm before the storm.
"It's to dangerous to get close to him, to anyone. You never know when they could get hurt, die, leave," he continues, ignoring me.
"Ha," scoff out, "Mr. Gideon, I suggest that you stop speaking before I loose my cool. It's not a pretty sight,"
Gideon shrugs, dropping his arms to his sides, but before he could say anything, the door opens, JJ sticking her head in, "We have a case," she mumbles, not noticing Gideon.
"Great," I say sarcastically, walking out of the room, drowning out JJ's excited voice as she greets Gideon.
I walk into Rossi's office, slamming the door shut behind me.
He was right, I hate being vulnerable in front of people, and I wasn't about to start now.
Letting out a deep sigh, I lean my head against the door.
"Are you okay?"
I jump from the sound of David's voice, not realizing he was here.
It was early, I figured JJ just got the news of the case and barely called everyone in.
My eyes widen, "Hi," I say, my voice kind of breathless.
I felt like I was going to cry, although if I were, David is the only person from work I could be okay with it being in front of.
I know he wouldn't judge.
"Are you okay?" he repeats, standing up from his seat to walk towards me.
I close my eyes, clenching my teeth slightly, before I let out a sigh, "Does it make me weak if I say no?"