The Element of Surprise

Limelight - Part 4

The station is a hellhole the next day. People stand in lines at the front doors to give their reports to the police, each one claiming they knew the victims and might have some information that might help us catch the killer.

I had to push through men and women to get through the entrance, and then shove some more to even reach the nearest open desk. Hotch already texted us - since he couldn't gather us all in this crows - that we each have to take one person at a time and get their statements. No matter how big or small, anything can help.

Unfortunately, I don't share his professional optimism this morning.

My heart still aches after last night. The scene of Rossi and Morris leaving the hotel together replays in my head over and over and over and over, filling thoughts with questions like, did they just go for drinks? Did they go to her place afterwards? Did they have...?

Does he like her?

It's the third time I have to force myself to focus on the woman sitting opposite of me, blabbering about the night one of the victims went missing. She's my third 'witness' and so far, her statement is absolutely bullshit.

"I had a nightmare the night she went missing." Shame. "It woke me up, but I forgot it instantly." Lovely. "You know how that happens?" Uh, you wake up? "I know this sounds crazy." Just sounds like bullshit to me. "I feel like if I could remember that dream, I'd know what happened to her..."

And that's the last straw for me.

"That's it," I drop my pen onto the desk and hear it clatter on the surface, "This," I dangle the paper I wrote her statement on in the air, "this is complete and utter bullshit. Do you really expect me to believe this? That a dream will magically tell you what happened to that woman? Oh, okay, then why don't we all go to sleep and dream our way into catching this killer, huh? Do you think it'll work? Oh, but that is if we can remember our dream when we wake up, right? You know what, I bet I can even dream that this day never happened and you and your shitty statement will disappear! And I bet if I dream harder, I might even dream myself dead and I won't have look at your perfect face, perfect hair, and perfect brown eyes ever again!"

The entire station has fallen silent and is gawking at me in shock. I'm still seeing red and hasn't noticed the other officers and people around me have backed up to put some safe distance between me and them.

"Presley," I jerk my head to the side to see Hotch looking at me, "A word. Now."

Straightening up, I march after him while overhearing the woman whimper behind my back, "B-but... my eyes are b-blue..."

Ignoring her and every other pair of eyes on my form, I make my way to the office Hotch disappeared into.

"Close the door," he orders and I do as I'm told. For a minute or so, I proceed to linger somewhere between the door and the desk he seemed to have been working on. Hotch paces the room and sighs, "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"You know very well what I'm talking about, Estella. I expected rash behaviour from Agent Morris, but not from you." I resist the urge to roll my eyes and avert my eyes to the wall to avoid his heated stare. "What's gotten into you? This isn't the Estella I know."

Despite the scolding at the start, the soft tone in his voice at the end stirs something within me that wills my tongue to work, "I went to tell him last night..."

Aaron's expression drops, "And he doesn't return your feelings."

"I never got to tell him," I shake my head, "Agent Morris got to him before I could. They went out for drinks and I don't know what happened next." Feeling my throat tighten, I sink down on the desk and allow my head to drop into my hands, "I don't understand what happened, Hotch. One moment, all the signs were there, and then... and you know what's the worst part? I think I'm past just having a crush on him. I... I think I love him."