Relevations

Part 1

 hi guys !! this is my first story on wattpad and i'm super excited to share this with you. please leave comments or vote on this story, it would mean a lot <3. anyways, here's chapter 1 !

Combustion: A complex sequence of chemical reactions between a fuel and an oxidant accompanied by the production of heat or both heat and light in the form of either a glow or flames.

Where fire cannot burn without oxygen, but too much results in explosion.

"I've loved you since I first saw you in the interrogation room. I didn't know what it was at the time, didn't know that you would be all I thought about. You've been on my mind for every single fucking second of the day and I can't get you out. And I don't want to."

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The last place I thought I'd be on a Saturday evening was handcuffed to a metal table facing a one way glass wall. The itch against my ankle was unbearable, but I couldn't pull down my fuzzy socks with my hands wrapped around iron cuffs. I stayed focused on the stray string hanging off my sweater sleeve, rolling it around into a little ball between my fingers. The door creaked open, bringing forth a gust of cold air. I traced my eyes up from the ratty converses to the mismatched socks, all the way up to the pair of unwavering hazel eyes that now stood in front of me. My first thought was, he doesn't look like an FBI agent. And then immediately afterwards, he's kind of cute though. In his own nerdy, messy-haired way. The thought immediately evaporated when he opened his mouth, letting his features freeze into a cold expression.

He sat next to me, fingers flipping through the case file. Very, very nice fingers. I shook my head, forcing myself to focus.

"Where were you yesterday night?" His voice was higher than I thought, but it was the tone that set me off. He spoke to me like he would want to be anywhere else than here, not even bothering to look at me as he made his way through the paperwork.

"At home? Watching a movie." I sounded unsure, but the truth was that I had no idea why I was here.

"What movie?" He didn't look up from the manilla folder. I scoffed, it was two in the morning and the exhaustion was finally settling in.

"What am I doing here?" They had barged into my apartment, dragged me to their black SUV, and hauled me into this hollow cube. I figured that they had brought me here as a witness from the accident, but it was beginning to feel more and more like they were interrogating me. If I were being questioned, couldn't it wait until morning? Not to mention the fact that I was literally chained to this table. Now they were asking me about a movie of all things.

"What movie?" He repeated, sounding bored.

"Tell me why I'm here." I spoke louder this time, as if projecting myself would magically bring the key from his pocket to unlock the handcuffs digging into my sore wrists. This time, he did look up. Only to give me a withering look-- a look that could kill patches of daisies and made me want to cry. I held my ground, raising my chin to bring my eyes to his. He had such an innocent face, with a sloped nose and curious mouth. But his eyes told a different story, they were haunted and guarded--from what I couldn't tell you. He brushed a strand of hair out of his face and pushed his elbows against the table, never looking away the entire time.

"You're here because you killed Tyler Barns." The sentence echoed around the room, but I couldn't make sense of the jumbled words. They kept replying in my mind, until at last I let my jaw drop.

"You think I did what?" Suddenly I was no longer waiting in an interrogation room in my pajamas for the car accident I witnessed yesterday, but for a murder investigation. The floor underneath me spun, and I gripped the table leg for purchase. "Are you out of your mind, I don't even know who he is!"

He seemed unconvinced, digging in his file until he pulled out a sheet. A photo of a man's face. He's smiling in the photo, facing straight ahead and unaware of his impending fate. Something about him is familiar, but I can't place it.

"There's security footage of you leaving the nightclub with this man." Suddenly the blurry vignettes from the previous night made sense. I vaguely remembered the drunken kisses in the back of the cab, tangled sheets, and then a disappointing walk of shame to retire on my sunken couch to watch Clueless. Clueless. Exactly how I felt right now.

"Okay so?" I can see where this is leading and I'm seriously regretting letting Becca drag me out of the house last night. I leave the comforts of the bookshelves surrounding my one-bedroom once and I'm suddenly wanted for murder.

"So you were the last one to see this man alive." The last time I saw him he was drooling onto his pillow, leaving me sweaty and unsatisfied as I rooted around his bedroom to find my bra.

"Listen, I didn't kill him. I left his apartment and then went back to mine. Watched the movie, Clueless." It was impossible to think that I was the last person to see him alive. I shivered, what if I had seen who had killed him. What if I almost had gotten killed?

"That's ironic. Clueless." He seems unamused. I glare at him. This man was infuriating, throwing around false claims and acting all righteous. "Given that you don't know anything, of course." He used his wild hands to gesticulate, widening his eyes like I needed the explanation.

I ignored him. If this FBI man wasn't going to be the bigger person, I was. I left his bait dangling. "How did he die?"

"Poison." He stared at me, analyzing my face. I didn't know what he was hoping to find, but he let his gaze drop, obviously not satisfied. We glared at each other. I felt a yawn coming but stifled it, I would not let this nerd with the skewed tie beat me. Finally the door opened again, another man walked in. He tapped the man's shoulder, jerking his head towards the door.

"Hotch wants to talk to you, pretty boy." Pretty boy's eyebrows furrowed, but stalked out of the room, lanky limbs and all. Immediately, the air became less stifled and I let myself breath out. Once upon a time I would have agreed with this man's nickname for his colleague, but now I couldn't disagree more.

"Reid giving you a tough time?" His voice was sympathetic, but I wasn't fooled. As far as they knew, I was guilty. I was tired, shaking from the nerves and moments away from making a fool of myself and bursting into tears.

"My name is Agent Derek Morgan." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the key, letting them click against the lock of my handcuffs. I massaged the raw skin around my wrists, pulling them back towards me. "I believe you."

I wanted to sob in relief. He continued. "But I think you saw who did it." I immediately stiffed, heart pounding in my chest. What if I thought Tyler was asleep, but he was actually dead. Why didn't I check to make sure? The room around me started to get smaller, my breathing quicker. I closed my eyes to get myself sorted out.

The next thing I saw was neon red lights with a sullen Reid against the wheel. The vehicle I was in slowed to a stop and I lightly jerked against the seatbelt holding me steady.

"Where am I?" My voice was groggy, and I winced from how heavy it sounded.

"It's late and you passed out." He kept his voice curt, slightly sharp around the edges. "I'm taking you home. We'll continue the interviews tomorrow."

I let the silence envelope us, enjoying the subtle lull of the car as he drove. But the silence wasn't comfortable. It was thick and tense, but I was too tired to let it get to me. I let my head rest against the headrest and dozed off again.

The next time I woke up, the car was parked outside my apartment building. Reid got out of the car and waited for me to get out. He walked me to the front of the building, grabbing the door and crowding close to me. His hot breath tickled against my ear.

"My team thinks you're innocent. But I know who you really are and what you did."

And then he was gone.