𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐫

fifteen

"Do you think you're pretty?" Hotch's voice intercepted Lou's thoughts.

His arm was looped around her neck and they were weaving their way between market stalls at a languorous, lazy pace. He had been overcome with the sudden desire —the incessant urge— to make her feel what he did, to make her see what he saw when he looked at her.

Lou stopped in her tracks, looking at Hotch with a funny expression he wasn't familiar with. Passersby paid them no heed and the jostling crowd split in half like the Red Sea to avoid them. They stood in the midst of it all, knowing only each other and oblivious to the people around them. Obnoxious, perhaps. In love, yes. Very much in love. Lou didn't really think about things like pretty very often but, looking at him, seeing the way he looked at her, there was only one honest answer, "Yes."

"Good." He kissed her, pulling her closer to him by the sleeves of her dress.

She was dressed for the summer despite the weather being on the colder side for that time of year, the air embodying a harshness that suggested it knew something they didn't. A blue summers dress dotted with daisies clung to her chest in a flattering and attractive manner. It was cinched at her waist and wrists and its long skirt and billowy sleeves floated freely, giving the illusion that she was floating or, depending on how you saw it, suspended in water like a drowned corpse only permitted to breach the surface when it no longer needed to. Lou used to own very few summer clothes. She used to feel trapped by the winter, by the cold months reluctant to leave but always eager to come again. Winter, for Lou, was a feeling. A black feeling that now she'd do anything to escape even if it just meant dressing in anticipation for a season that hadn't come just yet. Lou used to embrace the dark months, the dark feelings, the dark thoughts. The familiarity, the solitude, the silence, made her feel safe. The sun used to scare her with its seemingly condescending golden glow, quick to illuminate her every mistake and her every flaw. She used to resent it for its ability to get up every morning without fail. But, standing in the middle of a vibrant street full of vibrant foods and vibrant smells and vibrant faces and vibrant feelings, Lou felt happy. She felt like this summer was the first summer she had truly felt in five years. She felt like it had been winter for a very long time. But he was spring. Daffodils and tulips and new beginnings. Birdsongs and blossoms and budding trees and sweet dreams. Bees and grass and sweat and joy. Sunsets and warm waters. Moonlit swims and drunken dancing.

"What if I didn't think so?" She teased.

"Then I'd have to show you." The look in his eyes and the hushed, secretive tone reserved just for her made her blush.

"Show me," her tone was innocent but her gaze was everything but.

He grinned, opening his mouth to tell her that he couldn't possibly do that in public but he was interrupted by a shout that sounded above the riotous ruckus. A shout that distinctly voiced Lou's name, Lana!

When Lou recognised the voice —which she instantly did because she would never be allowed to forget it— the colour drained from her face and she actually went white. Like a ghost. A shadow of death itself.

Hoch watched, with a sinking feeling of malaise, as her whole demeanour changed. As he watched her fold into herself, like a flower that closed in reaction to being touched, he was reminded of the Lou he had seen half a year ago. When he'd gone to find her at the gym she'd been but a shadow of herself. Half of herself. But, slowly but surely over the last few months, he'd glimpsed pieces of the girl he knew. The girl she had been before. The girl untouched and untainted by grief. The girl whose love was tumultuous and turbulent, unfettered and free, wild and reckless, unreserved and open.