∗ ࣪ ˖༺ violent delights ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

you say all the words they wanna hear

hours passed as we pieced together more of darren call's past, every new detail making it harder to shake the darkness hanging over this case. his file was riddled with bolded words like 'trauma', detailing the abuse he suffered as a child. it left scars that went far beyond the physical. and now, it was all spilling over. he had abducted a little boy from an orphanage, just like he had been taken as a kid. i could feel the weight of it settling in—the boy wasn't just a victim to darren. he was a reflection of himself.

"he sees that kid as himself." rossi said, pacing as if he could make sense of it all by moving. i glanced over at hotchner. something was off with him. he'd been refusing help from the task force, insisting we could solve this by looking at old crimes. but he seemed scattered, distant, more reckless. it worried me. "is this really a good idea?" i asked, watching his reaction carefully. "i mean, we could use all the help we can get."

he shook his head, resolute. "we'll handle this." i didn't press it, but the unease gnawed at me. we eventually pieced together that darren's father was the hollow creek killer, which explained why no one had claimed him during his childhood. his entire life had been overshadowed by that monster. garcia was digging into his mother's side of things, but all she found was a death certificate—no other answers. it wasn't long before we got an address for his father, bill jarvis. we all knew it—the showdown was about to happen.

in the suv, i tied my hair back, trying to mentally prepare. hotchner sped through the streets, the urgency palpable. snipers took their positions, and the SWAT van pulled up behind us. it was a standard setup, but my stomach was in knots. the lieutenant briefed us, saying the exits were covered. "there's a kid in there. we've got it under control."

i adjusted my earpiece, glancing over at the house. "call needs a distraction. he's focused on the old man, but that won't last." the lieutenant didn't budge. "we're going to infiltrate. teams are in position." emily backed me up, her voice steady. "you do that, someone dies. we don't have to end it like that." the lieutenant didn't seem convinced. "either call or a child murderer—flip a coin." i stepped in. "we get a confession from jarvis, he goes away. the kid doesn't need to go through more trauma."

suddenly, i noticed hotchner walking straight toward the house, no vest, no backup. "hotch!" emily shouted, but he didn't even turn around. morgan started to run after him, but rossi held him back, shaking his head. i stood there, watching in disbelief. what the hell is he doing? we all watched the front door, breathless. i was sweating, my hand hovering near my gun, waiting for the worst. a gunshot. a yell. anything. emily voiced what we were all thinking. "what is he doing?"

"stalling," rossi answered grimly. "he's got nothing to lose." my eyes never left the house. hotchner appeared at the door, and darren stepped into view behind him. my breath caught, and i raised my gun, finger hovering near the trigger, ready to take the shot if i had to. but then hotchner turned his back on darren, standing right in front of him, blocking our line of fire.

the door swung open, and the little boy—ryan—ran out. my body moved on instinct. i ran toward him. "you're okay, little guy. come on." i whispered, trying to keep my voice steady as i hurried him toward a squad car, holding his hand. "are you alright?" i asked, but he just nodded, too shaken to say anything. then, the shots rang out.

three sharp cracks cut through the air, and my heart stopped. i slammed the squad car door shut and sprinted toward the house. the team was right behind me, guns drawn. inside, i saw hotchner standing over darren, already cuffing him. on the floor, bill jarvis lay in a pool of blood, dead.

"what happened?" i asked, breathless. he didn't look at me. "i couldn't stop him." he said, his voice cold and flat, before walking out of the house. morgan grabbed darren and led him outside while i followed hotchner, still trying to process what had just happened. i caught up to him, concern thick in my voice. "sir, are you alright?" "i'm fine, mortier." he answered, like it was nothing, as if he wasn't walking away from a house full of trauma and death, a reminder of everything we couldn't stop.

after the rest of the team exited, another man—tommy—arrived. he had been one of the few who'd escaped jarvis years ago, and as he said his goodbyes to darren, they had been close friends at the time of tommy's abduction, i couldn't help but think about how deeply the past could scar someone.

the jet ride home was quiet, the exhaustion settling into my bones. i leaned my head against the window, staring out into the night, thinking about darren. his father had been a monster, leaving darren with wounds that ran deeper than i could imagine. and i wondered, had there ever been a moment where someone could've helped him? or was he always destined to break like this?

when we landed, i decided to stay at the office and get some paperwork done instead of heading home to an empty apartment. the place was dead quiet, the kind of quiet that gets under your skin after everything we'd just been through. as i sat at my desk, twirling a pen between my fingers, i noticed the light in hotchner's office flicker off. i watched him come down the stairs, looking as worn out as i felt.

"you're here late." he said, his voice low and tired. "thought i'd finish these off." i answered, gesturing toward the pile of files. in truth, i just didn't want to go home. silence didn't feel right tonight. "they can wait. go home, get some rest." he said, his eyes softening just a bit. i hesitated, unsure if i should bring it up, but i couldn't stop myself. "i heard about what happened." i whispered. "sorry, it's none of my business." i added quickly, regretting my words.

he didn't answer at first, just stood there, staring at the floor. then, in a voice that sounded far more vulnerable than i expected, he said, "all these years this case stuck with me, i created the profile by myself i should've seen him planning to outsmart us." i didn't know what to say. "jesus...can i help? i could take some of your files, lighten your load a bit?" "no, no need." he said, but i could see the weight pressing down on him. "do you need a ride home?" i asked, surprising even myself. i didn't know why i offered, but i couldn't shake the feeling that he shouldn't be alone.

he hesitated, then nodded. "yeah... that would be nice. thank you." i didn't say much on the drive, but i could feel the exhaustion in the air between us. when we got to his building, i offered to walk him up, he told me everything about george foyet-- the boston reaper, on the way up. "you didn't have to walk me up here." he said as he unlocked the door. "i know." i replied, watching as he unlocked his door.

"you think call's gonna be okay?" i asked, trying to break the silence. "i don't know." he said. "well, he got his answers. killed the man who haunted him." i said. "and what now?" he asked. i knew we weren't just talking about darren anymore. "years of torture." i replied quietly. "think he'll get over that?" hotchner asked. "no," i answered. "but at least he doesn't have to feel alone anymore." he looked at me. "he has tommy. he's not alone." i add, and the look in his eyes changes slightly.

"um, get some sleep." i said softly, turning to leave. "you, too." he replied, locking the door behind me. as i walked down the hall, i couldn't shake the feeling of unease. i worried about him—worried about the weight he was carrying. his conscious is eating away at him, his mind has been violated, and his world has been turned upside down. and for just a moment, i remembered when that was me.