Shadows And Light・A.H.・

Back And Forth

When we are tired, we are attacked by ideas we conquered long ago. - Friedrich Nietzsche

According to the FDA, the average adult should not consume more than six shots of espresso in a day. According to Reid, a person would throw up the contents of their stomach long before they reached the point of having consumed a deadly amount of caffeine. And according to Tor's personal experience, she could drink roughly thirteen shots before reaching that point, so she was probably fine. At least, that's what she told herself as she glared at her computer screen and tried to force the letters back into their neat lines.

Pulling two all-nighters back-to-back was ill-advised, she knew that. But better her wondering if she was good to drive herself home that night than Hotch wondering if he should go home at all.

Last night had scared the shit out of her. Even more than the night before on the pier. Because while dragging Hotch out of the water and trying desperately to keep him from going into shock had been frightening, looking him in the eye and finding nothing but pain within him had been downright terrifying. Tor did not know for certain what had made him realize Evelyn was their unsub. And she did not know what he saw when he looked through her on the dock, his mind plunged into a darkness that she could not pull him out of. But when she looked in his eyes that night in the office, she knew enough.

Like recognized like.

Tor knew what it was to survive pain. She knew what it was to live in a shadow realm where problems and fears stretched to monstrous sizes and the world was painted grey. And while she had spent years trying to leave that darkness behind, she was never free. She was a commuter traveling between the worlds of shadow and light, doing everything in her power to hide the fact that she was not where she belonged. That she was living on borrowed time, and eventually the day would come when she was no longer allowed to leave.

She hid it well. Which is how she recognized when others did not.

Part of her job as a negotiator and now as a profiler was to see people on their worst days. To look at them and recognize their darkness as being like her own. And sometimes she was able to convince herself that her pain was worth it because it allowed her to connect with survivors. To offer her shadow-soaked hand and tell them "I know the way back to the light. Let me show you."

But most days she recognized it for the curse it was. She understood suspects better than any other negotiator she had met, reading them like a cheap airport horror novel. She connected with them deeply, sinking to their levels with ease she hid from the rest of the world. But they knew. Either she let them think they were corrupting her, or she showed them the shadows looming over her with a twisted smile. Either way, she could feel the darkness clinging to her for hours after her negotiations and interrogations. And as much as she pretended to belong in the light, it still burned her to come back into it.

It was a duality she had been forced to grow accustomed to. Traveling between the two halves of herself was a sickening experience, but she did it every time without letting those around her know that she had ever left. And every time she used her pain to help others out of theirs, she told herself she was buying time before she had to go back. Perhaps she was delaying the inevitable, but it had to count for something.

So when she looked into Hotch's eyes that night in the office, she saw the pain he had been carrying for a lifetime. She saw the darkness start to pull him under. And she offered him her hand.

The hug was more than she had planned, but it felt right. And for those few seconds she held onto him and he did not push her away, the light did not burn.

So yes, she was exhausted. Yes, the shadows were starting to stretch again, and yes, that night she would be plunged back into the darkness. But Hotch had given her six shots of espresso in his favorite mug. And that was enough to keep her going for a few hours longer.