∗ ࣪ ˖༺ violent delights ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

karma police

the rain drummed steadily on the windows as i climbed the stairs to the bau. the cold, gray morning outside was exactly the kind of weather i liked—something about how the world seemed quieter, as if the rain was washing away the noise. still, today, there was a tightness in my chest. i walked up to hotch's office, knocking on the door.

"you got a second?" i asked, my voice steady even though my mind was anything but. hotch stood by the window, watching the rain like he was lost in his thoughts. he didn't turn right away. "sure, what is it?" he answered. i took a breath, fingers twitching at my sides. "a case just came in." "i'll be right there." he said, but he must've noticed something in my face because he paused.  i hesitated. "actually, i wanted to talk to you. the case, it's in long island. new york."

his gaze sharpened at that, finally meeting mine. "you're from over there, right?" i nodded, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "yeah, close to it." i looked down, suddenly fascinated by my nails. "i'd like to stay behind." hotch frowned, clearly caught off guard. "why?" "it was a different life," i said, swallowing the lump in my throat. "one i'm not ready to go back to yet." there was a pause, and i could feel him studying me. after what felt like forever, he pulled out a file from his desk and handed it to me. "any other day, i'd say stay. but this came this morning."

i opened the file, and i scoffed. without another word, i followed him into the briefing room, the file still clutched in my hands. i toss it on the table in front of reid.  we all sat down at the table, and jj started her rundown. "the body of ben vanderwall was found last night. multiple gunshots, close range. .22 caliber. his hands are missing." she paused, glancing at the file in front of her. "we found dna from his wife, heather, but she's been missing since the incident. presumed dead."

i tried to focus on jj's voice, but all i could think about was long island. everything i'd left behind, buried under years of pain and suffering, was now being pulled back into the light. "the mo matches two other victims," jj continued. "rita haslat from new jersey—found in a trash can, severely underweight, ligature marks on her body. and bill levington—missing his genitals." "all three victims show a signature," hotch said. "the question is, what?"

i glanced up as spencer picked up the file, analyzing it with that familiar sharpness in his eyes.  spencer's voice cut through my thoughts. "what's this?" he asked, his tone curious. his eyes were locked on me. "you told me you were clear to travel," hotch said to spencer. "you lied." before he could answer, emily piped up with a teasing smirk. "naughty boy." spencer shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. "no, i didn't lie," he protested, his tone defensive. "i'm a doctor. technically, it wasn't a lie." "what was it, then?" garcia asked, leaning in from the doorway with a grin.

spencer fidgeted, obviously not wanting to deal with the attention. "uh... a second opinion." "ha, you're my bitch now." garcia laughed as she headed back to her office, leaving the rest of us to gather our things. i stayed in my seat for a moment, the rain still falling in a steady rhythm outside. 

soon enough we were already in the air, the plane humming beneath us as we settled into the briefing. i held the folder in my lap, not seeing the pages before me. my thoughts drifted to hannah. should i text her? let her know i'm back in long island? it had been weeks since we last spoke, and i wasn't sure if i wanted to stir up that pot. then again, she'd want to know.

i could feel the weight of the folder on my lap, but my mind kept wandering to that familiar feeling of walking down old streets, seeing old faces, and hearing voices i'd worked so hard to forget. what would hannah think if she knew i was back there and didn't call?

emily's voice pulled me back into the room. "in the ben vanderwall case, his hands were taken. bill levington—his genitals. but with rita haslat, she was starved and tortured, then executed. no postmortem mutilation." i tried to focus, flipping open the file, but the details blurred together. the photos of the victims, the timelines, the crime scenes—it all felt distant, like i was watching it through a screen.