What Goes Around Comes Around

San Diego

"That's your father?" Spencer asked, rushing over to me and pulling me into a hug.

I nodded silently. I couldn't count how many times I had wished that that bastard would die, but seeing him like that was absolutely terrifying. After I had moved out and cut all contact, I had thought I'd never have to see him or hear his name again, especially not like this. Hotch cleared his throat.

"Maybe you should stay back for this one," he told me.

"No way," I said as I stood up. "I knew him. I can help with victimology." Hotch opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. "Please, Hotch. I need to do this."

He sighed and nodded.

"Wheels up in twenty," he said as he left the room.

Everybody looked around at each other and silently began to walk out except for Spencer and Emily. They were the only two who could help me right now, and everyone knew it.

"What can we do to help you?" Emily asked, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I shook my head. I didn't know if there was anything anyone could do to help me. I hadn't spoken to my father in almost ten years, but this had suddenly reopened a lot of old wounds that I thought had scarred long ago. Silently, we all grabbed out go bags and headed to the jet.

~

(a/n basically the rest of this will be dealing with abuse)

"What can you tell us about your father?" Rossi asked, clasping his hands together.

We were all on the jet now, already mid-flight. I knew I would have to tell them everything, but I wasn't sure I was strong enough.

"Jordan, please," Morgan said. "We need to know everything you can remember about him. I know it's been ten years, but-"

"He was an abusive son of a bitch," I said cutting him off. An awkward silence filled the jet. "Nobody liked him except the owner of the bar he frequented, and even then, he only liked him because he made him a lot of money. He was a nasty man with a nasty personality."

"How was he abusive?" Hotch asked. I choked back some tears.

"Hotch," Spencer started. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea."

"No," I said. "It's fine. You guys need to know. He got mean when he was drunk, and he was drunk pretty much all the time. He liked to hit me, to throw me around. I was in and out of the ER all the time."

"I'm so sorry," JJ said.

I sniffled before continuing.

"I wanted to run away, but I had to be there for my little sister," I said. "If I wasn't there, there would be nobody to protect her from him. I was the only thing standing in between her and his rage."

"I didn't know you had a sister," Morgan interrupted. "Where is she now? Maybe she can help us get some more answers."

"I don't know where she is," I sighed. "They never found her body."

The air got thicker all of a sudden. It was like nobody knew what to say. What were they supposed to say? Here I was, telling them my sob story, and it was only getting worse and worse. I had never felt so vulnerable. Nobody spoke, so I explained further.

"When I was fourteen and she was eight," I told them. "My little sister Abby was kidnapped. I had gotten detention one day after school for getting into a fight with some kid who called me a faggot. I always picked her up from school, and we walked home together. By the time I got out of detention and got to her school, she was gone. Nobody had paid attention to who had picked her up. I ran home panicking, and I begged my dad to go to the police, but he didn't care. I tried to go myself, but they wouldn't listen to me. The next day, I found photos in the mailbox of her dead."