CHORUS
You are a woman marked for sorrow.
ELEKTRA
Yes, I know sorrow. Know it far too well.
My life is a tunnel choked by the
sweepings of dread.
⟿ criminal minds
⟿ aaron hotchner
...
CHAPTER TWO: EMBARRASSED WOMAN HOPES COWORKERS DIDN'T CATCH HER BASHING FOREHEAD INTO KEYBOARD
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WITH HER ID securely fastened to the breast pocket of her pink long sleeve polo, Beatrice stepped into the formidable realm of the FBI Headquarters. The staccato rhythm of her shoes echoed through the corridor, a confident cadence that matched the determination etched on her face. As she carefully cradled the box of her important belongings, holding it securely against her chest, she carried within it the weight of days filled with relentless questioning and sleepless nights. The aftermath of the New York terror attack had thrust her into a whirlwind of scrutiny.
Adjusting her glasses, the analyst felt a rush of cool air caress her cheeks, offering a momentary respite from the tension that hung in the air. In the distance, she caught a fleeting glimpse of the elevator doors sliding shut, and determined not to let it slip away; she called out to the occupant, beseeching them to hold the elevator for her.
As she reached the elevator, the blonde woman stepped inside, greeted by the faint hum of anticipation. The metallic doors sealed shut and she felt a surge of gratitude toward the man who had held the doors open for her. She turned to him, a sincere smile tugging at the corners of her lips, ready to express her thanks. Yet, as her eyes met his face, a spike of recognition coursed through her veins.
Her gaze locked onto his features, and her mind raced back to the chaotic scene of the New York explosion. He was that man-the enigmatic figure from the BAU team, the only one she hadn't gotten to know.
A mixture of surprise and curiosity washed over the analyst as she realized that their paths had converged once again, this time within the confines of the FBI Headquarters. What were the odds?
"Thank you," Bea murmured, her voice laced with genuine warmth, as the man nodded in acknowledgment. With a newfound proximity, she couldn't resist stealing a glance at him, studying his features from her vantage point. Up close, he exuded an undeniable handsomeness that captivated her attention. There was a charm about him, an allure that drew her in.
As her eyes trailed over him, she couldn't help but notice how he held the folder in his hand, his grip conveying a sense of authority and purpose. It was as if he was accustomed to shouldering responsibility, his every movement radiating confidence and self-assurance. In the chaos of the New York explosion, Beatrice's focus had been solely on stopping the bomb, leaving little room for personal observations or introductions. She hadn't even engaged in idle conversation. But now, with this unexpected encounter, she found herself taking in the details she had missed about him before.
As the elevator continued its ascent, Beatrice stole one last glance, etching the image of the man's captivating presence in her mind.
