𝓬𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐲 .ᐟ

09. not a good agent

Maeve sobbed as Elle brushed the girl's hair.

Morgan hears the crying coming from the next room, worried about what is happening, he enters without warning.

— What happened pretty girl?

Maeve stared at her reflection in the mirror as her lower lip trembled.

— My hair. 

Morgan chuckles a little as he finds out that this is what was troubling her.

Maeve's injuries from the night before weren't something to worry about, but the girl's hair couldn't get away with it unscathed. Maeve had relatively long hair, reaching to her waist where small natural curls always adorned the ends, the fire burned a not so significant part of the hair but the rest was affected, it was dry and brittle, Elle said it was best to cut it .

Her hair was now past her shoulders, shorter than Elle's even.

— You look good, Maeve. — Morgan was trying to comfort her.— Your hair does not define your beauty.

— I look like  Spencer! — She yells, still looking at her reflection.

Spencer magically appears with a coffee in hand, looking at the scene confused to see Maeve's cheeks and nose red, a sign that she has been crying.

— What happens here?

— We had to cut Hunter's hair. — Elle responds. — And we already see that she doesn't like it.

For a genius Spencer hadn't even seen her new cut.

— And she says she has the same haircut as you now.— Morgan jumps at the chance to poke fun.

— That's not true. —Spencer furrows his eyebrows a little offended.— You look pretty, Maeve. Really, Really Pretty.

Maeve sighs, running her hands through her new hair.

Hoth knocks on the door before entering and leaving the incomplete report on the table.

An hour earlier Maeve had stated the events of the night before to Hotch. This was one of those rare cases where they were no longer useful and should they decline, it would be left as an unfinished, unfinished story, being abandoned for any lack of evidence and the killings being stopped since they arrived in the city.

The man was arriving to report that they would be returning to Quantico in an hour after they boarded the jet.

To Maeve this felt like defeat. She could feel the guilt of not being useful. But no one else thought that, not even Hotch, Maeve shouldn't assume that responsibility. Hotch couldn't stop thinking about the girl from the information he received, he expected her to be the one to mention the subject but she never did.

The trip was not unlike any other. Elle was next to Morgan and Hotch playing cards, Gideon and Spencer chatting placidly while Maeve was in the opposite corner of the plane. Both men stop talking about her, the older of the two nods at the girl, and both head towards her.The trip was not unlike any other. Elle was next to Morgan and Hotch playing cards, Gideon and Spencer chatting placidly while Maeve was in the opposite corner of the plane. Both men stop talking about her, the older of the two nods at the girl, and both head towards her.

— Maeve. —Gideon sits next to her and she flashes a slight smile.— What are you doing?

Going his question to something deeper, knowing that her repressed personality was not due to an involuntary haircut.