chapter thirty-two:the things we hide from the light
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"i know what it's like to be afraid of your own mind." ~ spencer reid, criminal minds.
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STRESS HAS A WAY OF OVERTAKING ONE'S SENSES, EVEN FOR NO RHYME OR REASON.
That was what Vienna was experiencing now. She had something, she wasn't sure what, gnawing at her gut.
She needed a distraction. She didn't know from what exactly. Maybe the case that Briggs was giving them only bits and pieces of information now, Dean and the hard look in his father's eyes when they had spoken in prison. The way his cold eyes stared into his son's soul, and how Redding saw his son as only a pawn in the sickest game of chess, and not as his actual son.
Or, maybe, it was how Michael's face just couldn't leave his mind. His stupid smile, and that dimple on only one of his cheeks, and how his eyes would crinkle a bit in the corners when he grins. How she loved him, but he could never love her. She couldn't let him, she was too messed up for him to deal with, she thought.
Or maybe it was that ever-present thought of Locke that lingered like cheap perfume or a bad taste in your mouth. The image of the woman wouldn't let Vienna rest, though she'd gotten used to that fact at this point.
It was sickening, whatever was taking over her mind.
She squeezes her eyes shut, massaging her temples. Even drowning herself in casework on the weekends couldn't distract her from her own mind. She heard footsteps coming towards the large in-house library, which, to nobody's shock, was Vienna's favorite place in the entire house.
The person approaching had heels, so she half-assumed it would be Lia approaching to tease her about how she's constantly working. But she wasn't expecting it to be Agent Sterling who shows up in the doorway.
"Hey, Vienna." She says quietly. She looks quite beautiful. Her hair was pinned back neatly, and her makeup clean. She was missing her usual neat blazer, but had substituted it for a nice button-down which was unbuttoned at the top. Vienna was in constant awe of how put together she was all the time, even despite the stress of being an agent. If Vienna could see herself in the future, she only hoped to be as put together as Sterling.
She wanted to care for the woman like she had Locke, but she was scared. 'Hey." She mumbles, offering the woman a closed-mouthed smile.
"Listen, I-I should talk to you." Sterling says, closing the door to the library after her. Her seemingly put together exterior faltered for a moment. This was serious.
Vienna sighs, closing her case file, studying the woman's face carefully. "About what?"
Sterling crosses the library, sitting opposite Vienna, crossing her legs over one another. "Listen, Vienna, I'm not an idiot. I'm also a profiler. You think that I don't like you. You see me as an enemy, as someone who wants to hurt you. But I don't."
