In the past, she was like a bright light leading me through tough times, a symbol of hope that kept me going. Despite the passage of years without communication, when the time came to reconnect with her, I found myself instinctively gazing up at the...
we can let them wonder; everyone thinks they know the truth. - Keaton Simons, Nobody Knows
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N O V E M B E R 9 T H 2 0 1 1
For the past three days, life had been a whirlwind since I brought Maile to live with me. It felt like a major milestone, almost as significant as the day I decided to reconnect with her after our past parted ways.
As I walked into the office, Reid greeted me warmly. "Hey, Alex! Welcome back."
I had deliberately taken three days off, fully dedicating myself to being with Maile. Every moment was spent getting to know her better, studying her habits and idiosyncrasies. It might sound a bit voyeuristic, but my aim was to truly get to know her, all of her.
I couldn't help but notice how she cradled her glass with both hands, a gesture that echoed innocence, like a child holding onto something precious. And the way she drank, taking small, deliberate sips instead of the usual gulps, was incredibly charming.
"It's good to be back," I replied, my words filled with genuine warmth.
As I made my way over to my desk, I spotted Morgan, JJ, and Garcia already there, their laughter and chatter filling the air. It was like they had their own little bubble of camaraderie, and privacy was nowhere to be found.
"Hey, hey, turtledove," Morgan greeted me with a grin, mischief dancing in his eyes.
Finding my desk occupied, I settled for perching on the edge of Reid's desk, joining the lively group.
"Come on, spill the beans," Garcia urged, leaning forward eagerly. "Did anything juicy happen while you were away?"
Yep, privacy wasn't exactly on the menu. But in the midst of all the banter and teasing, there was a comforting sense of belonging with my team. I knew behind their playful jests lay unwavering support.
Putting on a facade of innocence to mask my racing thoughts, I casually asked, "What should have happened?" It wasn't just a casual inquiry; it was a subtle way to gain more understanding in what they wanted to know.
But before anyone could respond, Hotch briskly walked past us, his expression serious and focused. The file in his hand hinted at the urgency of the situation. "Four homicides in Colorado Springs," he announced, his voice carrying the weight of responsibility as he headed towards the conference room.
After we hashed out every detail of the case in the conference room and combed through it again on the plane, we found ourselves with a solid three hours of travel time left before landing at our destination.
During this downtime, the three youngest members of our team wasted no time in bombarding me with questions. They were like eager detectives, hungry for every scrap of information. But I managed to dance around their inquiries that tiptoed into personal territory, skillfully deflecting without giving too much away.
