in which Amelie Valentine becomes part of the BAU team
after two years of working as a psychology professor.
Soon finding herself struggling to stay above the darkness that was threatening to drown her.
or
in which Hotch fails miserably in keeping...
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▆mess it up
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﹙episode twelve; season three— part one ﹚ " How in earth did you do that, Mel? "
TEN MINUTES. It was the first day of a job she had turned down at least five times, and Amelie was ten minutes late.
She had to take full accountability for it. No traffic, or late trains to blame—only herself. Because what else should you expect than being late if you don't set your alarm, fully convinced that your job is still being a teacher, and Tuesday is your day off.
Her untied snickers squeaked on the cold pavement, her rushed steps carrying her to the open door of the elevator.
"Shit, fuck." she breathed, the heavy box in her arms inches from slipping from her hold as she used her elbow to click the elevator button to reach the level she needed.
Her foot bounced up and down, desperately waiting for the doors to close. The electronic ding coming a few seconds later made her let out an exhausted sigh and lean her head on the cold wall, her chest heaving rapidly from the rush.
"Fuck Strauss." The cuss left her mouth without a second thought, a part of the weight she felt in her chest easing immediately, letting a smirk come to her lips.
The second electronic sound of the elevator made her detach from the wall, turning to face the now-open doors and adjusting her hair with a shrug. She looked around, walking through the glass door and across the bullpen. Everything was familiar, since it wasn't the first time she was there.
But the few times she walked in, she usually went straight to the tech analyst office, avoiding any discreet eyes, to eat lunch and gossip until they ran out of time.
But this time it was very different, and she couldn't help but feel her heart leap in her chest as she posed her box on a random desk, hoping it was an empty one, and headed towards Aaron Hotchner's office.
She tightened her hair, pulled in a ponytail, and rolled back her shoulder, in an attempt to look more professional, aware that being late on the first day wasn't the perfect start, before knocking two times on the black door.
She patiently waited for an answer but nothing reached her ears. Furrowing her brows she tried again, but got the same result.
They couldn't have left for a case already. could they?
Her hand wrapped around the handle, pushing open the door, revealing an empty office.
Her eyes scanned the room, not finding a trace of her boss—only old and closed files posed on his desk. She loudly scoffed at the sigh, her brows raising incredulously.
