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It’s been a long day, only made longer by the sound of the clock ticking, counting down the minutes until your final period, biology, finishes. Your teacher, Mr Anderson, drones on about sampling techniques and random number generators, something you really couldn’t give a shit about.
You just want to leave and head to Quantico, meet up with your uncle, Aaron, and grab some cheap takeout. It’s your monthly tradition.
You moved in with Aaron a few months ago, the circumstances of which are not the best. You father was deemed unfit to take care of you, and since your mum died when giving birth to you, you were put under the custody of your uncle. You had a chance to start over, so you did. You cut your hair, changed your style, and made new friends.
However, with new friends, come new enemies.
For you, said enemy is one Alex Darcy, a linebacker for the school’s football team. He thinks he’s the shit and at the top of the food chain. He also has a power complex and it’s blatantly obvious to you. It’s seen in the way Alex carries himself, the way he talks to every popular girl with a pulse…
…and the way he picks on you.
You tap your foot, drumming your pen against your notebook, watching the second’s hand move, slower and slower.
The bell rings.
You rush to collect your things, desperately stuffing your pencil case and notebook into your bag. Maybe, if you’re fast enough, you can miss Alex and get the earlier train to Quantico. Aaron knows you get to the bullpen at half-four, or four if you get the earlier train.
You almost run out the classroom and down the hall, thankful for the lack of crowd, but it doesn’t last wrong. The hallways fill with a mix of sweat and Axe body spray and you keep your head down, avoiding anyone.
If you can just make it to the station.
You’re stopped. A hand grabs your bag, pulling the small handle and dragging you away. You let out a sigh, just following the taller teenager. You learned long ago to not fight Alex, as it just leads to getting beat up a lot worse. So, you just let him pull you into the disabled toilet, and before you know it, your face is on the floor.
“How was your day?” Alex asks, in this sick tone you can only imagine the unsubs your uncle catches use. You sigh and go to stand, only to feel a foot in the middle of your back, pushing you to stay on the floor.
“I. Asked. You. A. Question.”
“It was…okay,” you mumble, hoping to get this over and done with. As long as Alex doesn’t hit you in the face, you can hide it. You don’t want to admit to your uncle what’s happening at school, especially when one of your new uncles, Derek, taught you a lot of self-defence.
“Just okay?” Alex asks. You nod. “Shame.”
He proceeds to aim a kick at your ribs, satisfied at the cry you let out. He continues, punching and kicking you all over your body, taking delight in making you writhe in pain. That is until he changes the pattern.
He stops, giving you a moment to breathe and slowly stand up. He throws a punch at your face, making you stumble back into the tiled wall of the bathroom. Alex lets out a small laugh and gives a small ‘see you on Monday’ before leaving.
You sigh, a few tears falling from your eyes, and hobble over to the sink, where a mirror is. It takes you ten minutes to look at yourself in the mirror, and you gasp.
Your white t-shirt is stained with a few drops of blood, presumably from your nose, and your eye is already starting to swell and darken. You lean over the sink, turning on the cold tap and washing the stains on your face. The cool water helps soothe your face, and soon, you walk out of the bathroom and limp to the train station, which is about a ten-minute walk from your school.
People look at you a little funny, so you decide the best thing you can do is keep your head down, put your earphones in, and just get to Quantico, thinking of excuses you can come up with for your black eye and your bloody nose. It’s still dribbling a little, and you periodically wipe it to stop it running onto your shirt again.
You’ll need to get a new one.
Suddenly, there’s a notification interrupting your music.
Hotchie
Where are you? You’re normally here by now. Is everything alright?
You let out a sigh and jab a text back as you board the train.
Y/N
Yeah. Sorry, we had to stay behind to finish a practical. Cameron was messing about again.
Twenty minutes later, you’re entering Quantico. You get through security with relative ease, since you come here every day after school, with only a few odd looks from people. Silently, you beg that they won’t profile you.
Who are you kidding? Of course, they’ll profile you, even if it’s subconscious. It’s their job, after all.
The elevator doors open and you step out. You take a deep breath and open the glass doors to the bullpen. There, JJ, Spencer, Rossi, and Emily are sitting around and talking, Aaron’s in his office, and Derek and Penelope are somewhere else.
“Y/N!” Emily exclaims as she notices your entrance. You look up and are met with gasps.
“What happened?”
“Holy shit!”
“Are you alright?”
“What happened, bambino?”
Immediately, all four agents are rushing over, making you cower a little. The team immediately pick up on this, slowing down and keeping a distance.
“It’s nothing,” you mumble and head to the spare desk in the corner. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
The four agents look at each other. They don’t have a good feeling about this, but they know that if they press you, you’ll close off more. Derek walks in.
“Hey, kid-woah, what happened to your face?”
You look up to meet the concerned gaze of Morgan, who’s pulling 'that’ face, the one where his eyebrows furrow up and his eyes glaze over a little.
“Doesn’t matter,” you reply and pull out your notebook and pencil case, starting on the homework you were set for the weekend. You pull your calculator out and work on some quadratic sums, figuring out the points and plotting graphs. As you zone out into your work, you fail to notice the five agents in the bullpen head to Hotch’s office.
JJ knocks the door.
“Come in.”
She opens the door and the four agents walk in, making Hotch stop what he’s doing and look up. They’ve never all in his office at once. “What’s going on?”
“Aaron…” JJ starts, “something happened to Y/N.”
Immediately, Hotch gets up out of his chair and looks out his window, watching you work on your maths. He turns back to the team.
“What do you mean? They’re here. They told me their class was kept behind,” he says.
“Well, Y/N walked in with a limp, clutching their side, and will barely look up at any of us. They have a black eye and their nose bleeding a little,” Spencer explains. “I think they were beaten up. They keep brushing us off, though.”
“If we push them, they might close off more,” Dave joins in.
Hotch nods and looks over at you sitting at a desk. He dismisses everyone, sending them back to work, and waits five minutes before leaving his office. He signs the last bit of his paperwork and heads out, down the steps and wonders over to your desk, trying to be as ambiguous as he can. Eventually, he grabs a chair and pulls it up so he’s opposite you.
“Y/N? You okay?” He asks in the quietest, softest voice he can manage. You look up and your eyes almost well with tears at Aaron’s face. He looks almost distraught, the thought of anyone hurting his family too much to handle.
“’M fine,” you mumble. Aaron shakes his head.
“Why don’t we talk in my office, yeah?”
You shrug, and Aaron doesn’t fail to notice the way you wince as you walk up the stairs. The rest of the team try their hardest not to stare, but Reid can’t help himself. You remind him of himself when he was in high school.
When they reach the office, Aaron closes the door behind you and you two sit on the sofa in the corner.
“What happened?” Aaron asks. You shrug, shaking your head.
“Doesn’t matter,” you mumble. Aaron lets out a sigh and a long exhale through his nose. He can’t get frustrated, but he can’t help the tone that seeps through slightly.
“Y/N, it does matter. You’re getting hurt and that’s not okay,” he explains. “Is this a one-time thing?”
You shake your head, seemingly unable to talk. Aaron nods.
“Okay. Is it someone in school?”
Another nod.
“Do you want me to kill that guy for you?”
You let out a small laugh, wincing a little at the sharp stabbing pain in your ribs. Aaron’s eyebrows furrow and he looks you over.
“How bad is it?”
You sigh. “Erm, my…my ribs hurt, and my leg, and my face.”
“Okay. How about we get you patched up, I’ll order takeout and include the team, Jack and Beth can come here, and I’ll call your school and sort this out on Monday. That sound good?”
You nod and give a small smile as Aaron leaves to get the first-aid kit. “Are you okay with Reid helping you with your nose? He’s the one with three PhD’s.”
You let out a small laugh and nod.
You’re so pleased you have a great family to back you up and look after you, even if you sometimes don’t want them to.