Crying Lighting (Hotch x Reader)// ✔

25. Que reste-t-il de nos amours?

Summary:

Hearing about your father – in the news, in police warnings broadcasted in the radio, or even as a hushed word spoken in public transportation – happens 2 years later.

*title: what remains of our love?

Notes:

idk what this chapter is lmao i wanted the BAU banter, and i've been listening to false god by taylor swift on repeat (and wrote this fresh after rewatching moonlight for the thousandth time), hence this stupid fun chapter (and possibly some good-old yearning)

and yes murder is back on the menu, duh (when is it not? lmao)

hope u enjoy!

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Hearing about your father was not how you'd imagined the last week to go by.

Hearing about him – in the news, in police warnings broadcasted in the radio, or even as a hushed word spoken in public transportation – happens 2 years later.

You stop before the police car, watching the young officer who'd waved at you get out and come around to face you. He's youngish, fresh buzzcut and the uniform he dons is a size too big for his thin silhouette. He flashes you a sheepish smile.

"Thank you for stopping, Miss. I saw you in the last crime scene – we have an obligation to keep all civilians patrolling the area in order to question them. I saw you slip by and I have to ask you a couple of questions... Won't take too long, promise."

You squeeze the paper cup in your hands and take another sip of your coffee, not caring how suspicious that is – acting casual and unaffected from an officer chasing you down because you'd left a crime scene in a hurry.

"Sure" you say. "go ahead"

His smile falters in his face, having expected you to shoot out an excuse instead. He takes a pen and a pocket-size notepad, and flips it open, ready to write.

"What's your name?"

You size him up – it's not the fact that he chased you down that tells you he's new at his job, and not necessarily his age either, but the way he holds your gaze. Doubt and challenge seeps through. It's been a minute so you finally give him leeway – your name and surname.

"Why were you at Marshall Heights today at 6pm?"

You look down at your watch, thinking about how long it will take before he says the words you want him to.

"I am an avid church goer" you lie. "I attend St. Luke Catholic Church."

He's not convinced. "The 53rd street is far away from St. Luke" he rebuts, eyes narrowing.

You shrug, "Had to take my child to CW Harris Elementary School, then"

He writes it down, not hiding the fact his eyes pan to your left, noting the lack of a wedding band in your finger.

"Are you a single mother, Miss?"

The snort that escapes you is genuine – yes imagine that. "Sure."

He cocks an eyebrow, jaw clenching tight, finally showing you a bit of frustration that you so desperately seek. Oh man, did you miss pushing people's buttons. Especially law enforcement people. Sure, it wasn't the same as the real thing – not when this kid looks a tad shorter than you, and barely can hold up his authority as is, let alone around real criminals.