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CHAPTER THREE { The Dance of Doubt and Duty } ***
AS YOU TRY TO READ THE FILE, Emily watches your eyebrows knit together. You shut your eyes tight and reopen them, the letters blurring and jumping around on the page.
She can tell that you haven't slept.
You're sitting upright, just as you normally would, your posture rigid. She can't help but pay mind to Hotch, who seems to be peering intently at you. A look of puzzlement crosses over his face.
Emily has so many questions. About Jude, about your parents, and about you. Thats what she really wants to know about; you. She hasn't spoken to you since the hospital three days ago. Well, she's tried, but you haven't responded. After a few texts, she gave up trying to get you to talk to her—you're stubborn to no end and if you don't want to do something, you won't. Plus, she doesn't want to push any boundaries that you may have regarding the situation.
She doesn't know what happened with Jude, if he's alright or not.
"Wheels up in twenty." Hotch's voice halts Emily's studying of you.
As everyone stands, gathering their files and heading toward their desks to grab their bags, he speaks again. "Brooks," He calls you over.
A look passes over your face. It's not fear necessarily, but apprehension and maybe even a tinge of annoyance. Members of the team glance back when they hear their boss's voice, their silence dissolving into broken murmurs as they question what you did. You must be in trouble, right?
When you left the bar with Emily and Hotch on Friday night, they told the team the truth (with your permission, of course). Not the whole truth, not the whole situation. Not that your brother tried to take his own life, not that you saw your parents for the first time in 7 years, not that you're gay. Not all of the things that you spent all of your energy hiding from your friends, other than the fact that you have a brother. All they know is that he was in an accident.
Emily lingers a bit longer, watching as you approach Hotch. Your expression tells her that you already know what he wants to discuss with you.
"Long night?" Hotch asks, but the sarcasm in his voice comes off as frustration.
You scoff. "Something like that." You attempt to lighten the mood with a slight chuckle. When you realize that Hotch's face is stone, you drop the corners of your lips.
There's a beat of silence before he continues.
"How much sleep have you gotten since Friday?" He implores. His eyes are burning holes into yours.
