ᴀɴ ᴀɴɢᴇʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ ᴡɪɴɢꜱ ½ [ 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 ]

sᴛᴏʀʏ ᴏɴᴇ: ᴄʟᴀɪʀᴇ『4/5』✓

sᴇᴛ ɪɴ sᴇᴀsᴏɴ ᴏɴᴇ
╰┈➤ [ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2,466

『 Angel POV 』

The 'before job' jitters had hit me while Hotch was going over things with his team. Derek's coat around my shoulders started warming up but the air conditioner right above my head wasn't helping. It blew cold hair directly onto my head and after a couple of minutes it started to ache from the cold.

The jitters weren't due to nervousness, I wasn't nervous about what I needed to do. Hotch had given me specific instructions, not much room to improvise which was probably for the better. The only worry I had was disappointing the team, failing at the job I was given.

As much improvising sounds fun, there's a killer that they need to catch. Everytime I go on one of these cases, where I possibly will have to kill the unsub, I look forward to it in a way. I look forward to killing the unsub, putting down someone who has done terrible things.

That's something I haven't even told my legally assigned therapist, as I am supposed to tell her "every intrusive or bad thought" that I have. If I did I would be out of a job and in a mental hospital, stuck, for life. I still don't know how they let me into the field, especially after the results of my mental evaluation.

From what Gideon had presented about me, they most likely believe that I'm something I'm not. An expert in my field and a person with good morals. That was the biggest reason I wouldn't join a team, no matter how much I liked the people. There was always a reliability on other people, and people relying on you.

I hadn't completely been honest about not being on a team, I had been on a team. I was in a group of four unbelievably smart and intellectual women in the undercover task force. It had been a couple years since the team had broken up. It wasn't just due to budgeting like they had said it was, it was definitely due to the last case that we had gone on before we shut down.

I zone out of my thoughts after I get a tap on shoulder, the material of Derek's jacket sent noises to my ear and I immediately turned around. It was Derek himself, holding a couple of microphone packs along with many small wires.

"Ready to mic you?" he asked, shaking the wires around a little to get my attention, "You alright darling?" he asked after not receiving an answer from me, the word darling rolling off his tongue so naturally.

"I'm good," I half-lied, I wasn't good but I wasn't bad, "Just mentally preparing...you can mic," I brushed his jacket off of my shoulders and it fell onto the chair, "Go for it." I nodded once he hesitated to touch my arm.

"So," he started to clip the wires onto to overall I was wearing, "Mentally preparing, huh?" the sound of the clip piercing through the jean material made an uncomfortable noise, making both of squirm, "Sorry." he quickly mumbled.

"You're good," I laughed as I pressed down on my ears a little, trying to drown out the noise that just sparked, "Yeah, mentally preparing..." I thought for a second, watching him finish up, "I don't really know what that means." I laughed.

"I know what you mean," he pushed his back against his chair, admiring his wiring job, "Our jobs are far from easy... especially yours," I nodded along, "It's always difficult to tell if things could go wrong...that makes a lot of people panic," he finally made eye contact with me, "Always worrying about family and all that."

"Well," I cleared my throat, "I don't uh exactly have a family," I poorly explained, "So that's never been a worry for me, personally," I shurgged, "I've already lost everyone around me..." I zoned out to the corner of the room as memories started to hit.

I've suppressed trauma, pushed it down, making sure it never escapes into my life but recently it's been harder. It's been harder to ignore it, to push it down. I've been fighting a current, a current that keeps pushing but then pulls back. I have had it in control for years now, but it has progressively made me more miserable.