i swear,
i'm only cryptic and machiavellian
cause I care.
Agent Lucy Byrne is damn good at her job. She's meticulous, she's cautious, she's stoic and she's so darn smart. But when case upon case begins to remind her more and more of a buried time...
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~💥~ MAYHEM Season four,episode one (4x1) ~🌃~
LUCY REMEMBERS THE SPECKLES OF BLOOD THAT SPLATTERED THE BARK OF THE TREES THAT DAY. She always wondered if it stained. She wondered if she were to walk those woods again, would she be able to pick the spot where it all happened.
It was a similar shade of red that coated the concrete next to her now.
She couldn't remember anything. Ironic. That seemed to be a reoccurring theme.
She had always wanted to go to New York. That was typical for a girl with crushed broadway dreams and an obsession with Friends.
She never imagined her first trip would be like this.
"What happened?" She mumbled, staring at the starry sky above her. She felt around her, hoping her senses would kick into high gear and offer her some clarity, but they simply felt numb and heavy. Perhaps she should've screamed for help, but Lucy never had any skill for admitting she needed it.
What happened?
She tilted her head to the side, to get a glimpse of her surroundings. That outta give me something, she concluded, wincing as the ringing in her ears grew louder.
"Oh, my God," she panted at what she saw. Her exclamation pricked at her dry throat, and she coughed to rid her of the stinging feeling. In a panicked frenzy, she intended to stand, only for a sharp pain in her shoulder to prevent her from doing so.
Fragments upon fragments of metal and glass littered the path around her.
She hoped it was only that: metal and glass.
She panted more, hoping it would aid her in catching her breath. Inhaling the fumes from the burning car, it only seemed to make her head spin more. Or maybe she hit that, too, on her fall. "Oh, my God. Hotch! H-Hotch—"
New York, the city of dreams. Lucy was sure to make some dark, ill-timed joke about the irony of that when this was all over. If she's still alive, that is.
She was useless now, settling for mindlessly staring at a burning SUV, wondering where her boss was, where Kate was, continuing to stare even when the bright flames made her eyes water. Or maybe those were tears. Lucy was never good at admitting she was afraid either.
"Does it hurt?"
A figure blocked her view, one Lucy hadn't even spotted approaching. She shifted from her laying position on the glass covered road, wanting to see the fire in its entirety. She wanted to see Hotch emerge from it, okay, alive.
"Oh, my God!" She exclaimed again, warranting another coughing fit to possess her.
The hands of the blurry figure were placed onto the sides of her arms, firmly holding her in place. "Mary, I asked if it hurt. Does it hurt, Mary?"
