❝ you're the best of us. ❞
in which the ex-agent with a therapy license decides to get back in the game.
CRIMINAL MINDS SEASON 4
OC X AARON HOTCHNER
TRIGGER WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF SEXUAL ABUSE AND ISSUES SURROUND...
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THIRTY SEVEN. BEST TEARS
"YOU'RE NEVER GONNA FIND HER," HORTON INCHED CLOSER, HIS YELLOWING FINGERNAILS CURLING INTO HER LINE OF VISION. Daisy's bloody body was weighed down as if the ground were velcro, and her breathing was laboured and weak. She had hardly anything left in her. But she couldn't stop. She couldn't give up. Horton crouched down so that his lips were pressed against her ear, his hot breath clouding the side of her face. "She's mine."
Daisy screamed angrily, her hands shooting up to latch themselves around his neck. He was caught off guard, and she forced herself off the floor, using the strength she had left to climb on top of him, her knees on each of his arms. Her hands pressed into his windpipe, and he flailed about, choking as blood dripped from her face onto his.
"You son of a bitch," she hissed, lifting one fist and punching him square in the face. A satisfying crack echoed through the apartment, the cartilage in his nose crunching under her hit. "Where's my sister? Where's Beatrice?!"
"Oh, Daisy," Horton used the last breath he had to cackle her name, before his sunken eyes rolled back in his head and his body stilled.
"Daisy!" two hands shook her awake, causing Daisy's eyes to shoot open. She gasped in surprise and started thrashing about, only to be held down by the same arms. "Daisy, calm down!"
"Get off!" she cried out, her voice hoarse from lack of use. Her breathing was uneven and her heart was close to bursting out of her chest, yet she felt the same kind of adrenaline she had so many years ago. It felt as though she were back in that dark room, her life so fragile it could slip out of her hands and shatter. "Horton, you piece of shit-"
"Daisy, you're safe," Hotch took his hands off of her, sitting up in the bed. Daisy's wide gaze settled on his face, illuminated by the golden lamplight. He wasn't going to hurt her. She was safe. His face was so different to Horton's; there was a kindness unlike any other she'd seen.
Once she realised where she was and who she was with, Daisy whimpered, leaning forward and falling into him. Her hands found his t-shirt, gripping the material like she was afraid to lose him; to be left alone again.
"It's okay," Hotch had no reluctance in holding her back. To see her so on edge, he wondered how many times she'd experienced this and no one had been there to comfort her.
"I'm sorry," Daisy whispered, refusing to let go of the man. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"
"Don't apologise," Hotch said softly. He hadn't made any indication that he was going to pull away , which meant she didn't have to worry about how long she was in his arms. "Was it a nightmare?"
Daisy nodded just enough for him to see her answer. "The man who hurt Beanie."
"He's gone, Daisy," Hotch assured her, now rocking her back and forth. He'd read the file - he'd seen what she'd been through. "He's been dead for years now. He can't hurt you or your sister anymore."
