Ineffable - S.REID

48

・゜゜・．TWO WEEKS LATER .・゜゜・

Clara was sitting at her desk and filling out paperwork when the phone on her desk rang loudly. She didn't even think before she picked it up, mind elsewhere. Her entire body stilled the second the computer voice gave the information that the call was coming from a prison and her least favourite person in the world. But she answered and accepted anyway, figuring that he would not relent if she didn't. Even if she wouldn't admit it to anyone, Clara was frightened of that entire family. "What do you want?" she spoke softly into the phone, wary of those around her. They all seemed too busy with paperwork to notice the tone of her voice and thankfully Spencer was in a meeting with Hotch.

"Feisty Antonia, my favourite," he responded and she could hear his shit eating grin through the phone. She rolled her eyes even though her stomach turned in an awful way, the hairs on her neck standing up. "I just remembered something today and I thought I'd remind you of it."

"And why would you do that?"

"To ensure I still have the same effect on you,"

She scoffed, "I'm hanging up."

"Ah, I wouldn't do that if I were you," he interrupted threateningly, his voice running her blood cold. The phone, which had been just centimetres away from her ear as she moved to put it down, now found itself pressed against her ear as a long pause followed. He chuckled darkly, "I remembered that month after we had that moment, where you fully got involved in all the crime. The drugs, the torturing, how you smiled sincerely when that person you watched plead for their life die from wounds that you inflicted... And I was so proud of you."

"That was a fake smile," she responded softly, tears brewing in her eyes as the repressed memories were brought to the surface.

"You still killed someone, Antonia. Three people, if I remember rightly. Not to mention all the drugs... Like I said before, you're a criminal like me,"

She sniffled and began to rub her temple, anxiously glancing to Hotch's office just in case Spencer was to walk out. He would notice the change in her instantly. "I'm not like you."

He laughed once again and even though the line was scratchy, it still had the effect of sending fear chills down her spine. "Yes you are sweetheart. No matter how much you try to distance yourself and bury yourself in your work, you are and always will be."

Clara hung up then, unable to say another word to him. She just could not handle the reminders nor the thoughts zooming around her head at full speed. Slowly, as to not rouse suspicion, she rose from her desk chair and walked quickly to the bathroom. Once the door had been locked behind her, she sat on top of the toilet lid and let the tears flow whilst her head rested on her knees. She had repressed all the memories and all the emotions for so long that being reminded of them all at once had the tears and hatred for herself reaching previously unattainable levels.

Forty minutes passed of her delving into her misery inducing thoughts. She didn't hear her phone ring the first time or the second but she did hear it the third time. She picked it out of her pocket and frowned at the name on the screen, she didn't feel able to face him whatsoever. She had lied to Mazzio before, he didn't know everything. Some things were just too hard to relive and she just couldn't bear to put herself through all that again. So she let the phone ring out and watched the missed call sign display on her phone. Ten minutes passed before he rang for the fourth time and this time she picked up, suddenly feeling awful for making him worry. "Ara?" he spoke the instant she answered the call, his voice filled with panic.

"I'm sorry," she spoke softly, wary that he would hear the echoing of the bathroom and know where she was. She didn't want to see anyone right now, she sought only solitude.

"Where are you?" he asked with the same tone of voice as before.

She sighed softly, "Spence I love you and I really don't want to hurt your feelings or anything by saying this but right now I just need to be alone for a minute."

"I'm worried, should I be worried?"

"No, don't worry. I'm safe. I just need a moment,"she responded and sniffled, one which echoed around the tiled room.. "I promise I'll come find you the second I'm ready."

"As long as you're safe," he responded absentmindedly and she heard a slight muffle. Clara instantly assumed he had covered the phone with his hand to have a whispered conversation with someone but she did not wait around to figure out who it was. She hung up soon afterwards and the tears flooded again, thick tears as one specific phrase drummed through her mind.

Her tears stopped completely as the bathroom door opened. She listened as the person walked into the room, their heels clicking against the tile. The person stopped just outside her closed door, hesitating for a second. Garcia broke the silence with a gentle and soft whisper, "Pumpkin."

Clara once again, did not respond.

"You can be silent if you want to. I'll just wait out here."

Silence but for the dripping tap filled the room.

She continued even without response, "Reid's looking for you, he asked me to help." 

This time the silence was filled with the clicking of her phone and the sound of a message being sent.

"I've never known someone say they want to be alone then actually want to be alone."

She paused, waiting for a response she didn't expect to occur at all.

"If this is different, tap the door twice."

Silence followed yet again but just as Garcia was about to continue with her speech then leave the room, Clara shuffled and gently tapped the door twice with the tip of her finger. "Pumpkin please unlock the door so I can hug you," she whispered, choosing to ignore Clara's request to be alone as something just told her that the taps were a slight lie. 

"I can't," she whispered shakily.

"Why?" Garcia asked abruptly though a smile crossed her lips as she finally got a response. Silence occurred again and this time Garcia could feel the sadness that leeched off of her. "Clara?"

She whispered, her voice barely audible, "I'm a criminal." Her throat almost closed up at the admission, she had never said it out loud before. She'd heard it of course, mostly from Mazzio, but saying it herself was something completely different. Living in denial just didn't cut it anymore.

"Pumpkin you're not a criminal, not in the slightest," Garcia responded instantly and without hesitation, finally getting some explanation for her best friend's sudden turn in emotion.

She frowned, so flooded in her disappointment in herself that she would not listen to reason. "But he knows all I did and he thinks so."

"He?"

She cleared her throat, "Mazzio."

"The guy who wanted to kill you?"

Clara sniffled yet again, wiping the tears from her eyes and cheeks with the sleeve of her green jumper (well Spencer's jumper really) "Sì."

"Pumpkin please open the door, I don't want to hurt you or break a heel breaking it down," Garcia responded and Clara could not help but let out a teary half chuckle. After a moment's hesitation she unlocked the door and it creaked as it opened. She took a singular step out of the stall before Garcia wrapped her in a hug, an incredibly tight hug. Whilst it didn't soothe away all the pain or any of the thoughts, it did something. Maybe  just took the edge slightly. "You're not a criminal Clara. Nothing you did undercover contributes to who you are as a person. You did what you had to do to survive. No one's ever going to blame you for that."

"He's fucking with my head," she whispered under her breath. "I used to love him, you know. Mazzio. I think it was Stockholm syndrome or something I don't know but I did. And it felt so real," she paused as Garcia used her thumbs to wipe away her tears. "He speaks in a way that you can't not believe it."

"Clara, you're not a criminal... I'll say it fifty million times if that's what it takes for you to believe it. You're stronger than letting some random man dictate who you are and how awesome of a person you are."

"Do you have any cookies in your office?"

Garcia laughed softly, "Why is that even a question?"