Acting on impulse, you show up at your boss, Aaron Hotchner's, doorstep in the middle of the night. The resulting night of passion kickstarts a timeline of events you never could've imagined. Crazy how one night could cause so much pain and pleasure.
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"I want a media blackout. The unsub is looking for attention and we're not going to give it to him." Hotch crosses his arms before turning back to the board.
"Isn't that just going to make him angry?" You lean back in your chair, finishing off yet another cup of shitty police station coffee. "He's going to kill again, shortening the cooling-off period." You fire off at Hotch.
To be frank, the case is not going well. Three teenage girls, raped and murdered, yet carefully laid out on the side of the road, their clothes in order, arms crossed over their chests. Once you and the team showed up, not a single body dropped since. The team has been struggling with the profile. There's not much connection between the victims, the MO and signature are not unique and with no new information besides these three murders, which you all have seemingly analyzed every possible detail, it's a dead end. Besides the tiresome nature of the case, you and Hotch have been at each other's throats since the beginning of the case.
No one answers your question because you know the answer. At this point, the case can only go one of two ways: you guys leave, because the killer has stopped killing, or, you have to wait for him to kill again and hope that he'll make a mistake. It's the part of your job that you hate more than anything.
"So we're just hoping someone fucking dies?" You let out.
Hotch raises a brow at you, "Language, Y/L/N."
"So you guys are okay with this?" You glance around at the team. Reid practically shrinks under your glare and Morgan's brows furrow deeply at your behavior.
Rossi clears his throat before finally speaking up, "Trust me, kid. I hate it just as much as you, but you know that this is just how it is sometimes."
"I refuse to accept that," You glance at Hotch, "You're practically authorizing a murder."
Hotch's jaw tightens. You see the muscles under the skin shifting. His fingers rub together at his side. You're pushing him. You're testing his limits, but you're just so frustrated with him. You're frustrated with yourself. You can't turn your profiler brain off. Every thought is intrusive, consistently psychoanalyzing yourself.
You can feel every member of the team watching the two of you intently. Even Morgan, who has been seemingly oblivious to the changing dynamics between you and Hotch the past few weeks, is aware that something is wrong.
"I don't have to explain my actions to you," Hotch's voice is ice, devoid of all possible emotion.
"But we have to explain ourselves to you?" Your words carry more weight than just that of the case. Hotch knows exactly what you mean.
"This is not a reciprocal relationship. In here, I am the team leader. I'm your boss. What I say, goes," He takes a few steps towards you. If the team hasn't caught on to you two at this point, Hotch's true meaning is as clear as day. "Do I make myself clear, Agent?"
