retribution.

Chapter Six

Sunday, two weeks after funeral

Hotch's POV
The barrel of the gun felt cold against my head, and I froze. I could hear the unsub breathing behind me, slow, heavy breaths. I could hear the gun cocking from behind me. I knew I was in a bad position, and although my gun was still in my hand, if I made even the smallest movement, the unsub could snap and put a bullet through my head.

I had been in this position many times before, and yet this time my mind was blank. The adrenaline that had been coursing through my veins before intensified. And although the adrenaline clouded my brain and made it hard to think, I knew I still had the upper hand against the unsub. I was a federal agent with the FBI, and chances are, the unsub is not. But how could the unsub have gotten into Collins' apartment without knowing her?

So the unsub was somebody Collins knew. That's why the apartment was still clean. The unsub must have drugged her and dragged her away before making the bed. Then he must have seen me enter the apartment, and came after me. That means Collins has to be close by.

"What do you want?" I said quietly, breaking the silence that only made the situation more tense. I could hear the unsub's grip on the gun tighten.

The unsub didn't respond for a while. He was probably thinking of what to say. So we had a rogue agent with a gun to my head. And I'm in a position of leadership, which is statistically the most popular reason for an agent to go rogue. Either somebody wronged them or they didn't get a position of leadership that they wanted, causing them to hate the FBI's leadership. Great.

"What are you doing here, Hotch?"

My eyes went wide as I heard the familiar feminine voice from behind me. Without thinking, I turned around. But instead of a massively stupid action costing my life, I watched as Collins lowered her weapon until it was pointed at the ground. She looked skinnier then when I last saw her. There were dark bags underneath her eyelids, and her once blue eyes were dark and lifeless. She seemed like she hadn't left bed in weeks.

Collins' hair was up in what seemed to be a bun, but her hair was too messy to tell what it was originally intended to be. She was wearing a cream colored muscle tee which was a size too big, and peeking out underneath the tee were sleeping shorts. There were stretch marks along her thighs and knees, and faded but still noticeable scars along the side of her calves, each scar placed in a line. I felt a pang in my chest at the sight of my teammate, my friend, looking like this. I didn't even know she used to... do that. The scars were faded, which means she hadn't tried to do that for a couple years. I was just glad she stopped.

"You wouldn't answer the door for anybody." I stated simply in response to her question.

She turned on her heels as she walked over to her nightstand and placed her gun on it. "What made you think I'd answer for you, then?" She asked as she sat on her bed.

I leaned up against the wall of her bedroom, lightly at first as if it were going to fall down. But of course, it stayed up. "I didn't. But I didn't feel like going home yet, so I figured I'd at least try."

Collins sighed and ran her hands through her messy hair. "You shouldn't be here, Hotch."

I placed my gun in the belt holster, fairly certain she wouldn't shoot me. Her eyes switched from my hand to the gun, and she seemed to relax as soon as it was tucked away. Not like I'd shoot her, but it's normal to be nervous around a gun.

"Is it a crime to check up on a teammate?" I asked. Knowing the normal Collins, she would say yes and twist one of the laws so it fit the situation. Like breaking and entering.

But she just stayed silent, and looked down defeatedly without another word. I looked at a clock that hung above Collins' bed. It read 1:47 am. It was way too late/early to be doing this, but I wasn't the slightest bit tired.