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“My team, briefing room.”
Your head snaps up, quickly getting out of your seat and following your coworkers to the conference room. You play with your hands, tapping your foot as Garcia starts to give the case details. A man has been murdered in Los Angeles, beaten to death with a pipe and left to die in a back alley.
“Alex Darcy, age twenty-seven, grew up here before moving out to LA to become an attorney. He failed the bar exam twice and spent the rest of his life receiving welfare cheques. He was beaten to death this weekend and wasn’t found until Monday. Local PD think this is related to a similar murder in San Diego, so we’re working with the CBI.”
There’s a collective stifle of groans across the room. Working with the California Bureau of Investigation is like trying to herd cats, while pulling teeth. It’s painful and impractical at the best of times. You all look over the files, before Hotch makes an executive decision.
“Wheels up in thirty.”
Rossi looks up and notices you from across the table, dragging your feet as though you don’t want to go on the case. He catches up to you, pulling you to the side.
“Hey kid, you okay? You usually love getting ready to go on a case,” he expresses his concern, looking you in the eye. You shake your head, averting eye contact as much as you can.
“Yeah. I just…I know the guy,” you mumble as you two walk to your desk. Rossi’s eyebrows shoot up.
“I’m sorry for your loss. Were you close? I can ask Hotch if you want to sit this one out.”
You pull your lips into a thin line and your jaw sets. “We weren’t close. It was just…a bit of a shock.”
Dave knows something’s off. You’re never like this, you’re usually laughing and joking to try and keep the team’s spirits up. Today you’re the complete opposite. He shakes his head; maybe you’re just tired, or fed up with something else and bought the attitude with you.
Rossi grabs his go-bag, joining you and the team in the lift as you go to the jet.
—•—
You’re standing over the body, observing it, looking for any signature marks. The man’s head is caved in, an obvious dent from the metal pipe the unsub got. His body is littered with bruises too—defence wounds. His arm is also broken, as well as the ankle, though that was postmortem. The man was in a lot of pain, so whoever committed this crime did it because he knew the victim.
“Y/N!”
Your head snaps up from the autopsy table, instead focussing on Rossi, Spencer, and the ME. “You okay?”
You nod. “Yeah.” Then you deliver your findings. “Since the ankle was broken postmortem, can we say this is a crime of passion? The unsub clearly didn’t like the guy. They were so caught up in what they were doing, they didn’t realise Mr Darcy was dead.”
The other two nod, in thought, before you thank the ME for her time and go to the car, heading beck to the station. As Rossi drives, Reid turns around to address you.
“How did you know the victim?” He asks. Your eyes widen slightly, before you keep a neutral expression. It’s only for a split second, but Spencer doesn’t miss it. “You’ve never spoken about him.”
“Erm, yeah,” you mutter, rubbing the back of your neck, “Alex and I went to school together. He used to…bully me, of all things.”
Reid nods and turns back around, though more for his sake than yours. The cogs in his brain are turning, trying to piece together the information. He can see a solution, but it’s one he doesn’t like. It’s one none of them will like, especially Dave.
—•—
The phone rings and Spencer excuses himself from the meeting, making up the excuse that it’s the home calling about his mum. He’s dismissed with a wave and he heads to a secluded hallway before answering.
“Hi Garcia.”
“Hey boy wonder,” she replies, trying to mask her voice. He can hear the croaking though; she’s holding back tears. He sighs.
“Is it…” He doesn’t have to finish to get a noise of confirmation. “Did Mr Darcy…” Another yes. “Okay. Thank you Garcia. I’m sorry.”
She sniffs. “What for?”
“For getting you to look into this. I wish it was something else,” Spencer sighs out, trying to hold back tears of his own.
“It’s our job, isn’t it? To catch the unsub?” She asks, and Spencer hums. “Well, you just solved five deaths across the country, if we’re right.” There’s a pause. “Love you, Spence.”
“Love you t-too,” he stutters out, quickly wiping away any tears that threaten to fall. “See you soon Garcia.”
He hangs up and takes a deep breath, pulling himself together. He can’t let this get to him, not yet. He has to know, for sure. Slowly, Spencer turns on his heel and makes his way down the hallways and back to the meeting room, where the BAU is set up. He knocks and opens the door. “Erm, Hotch?” The unit chief looks over. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
He nods, no questions asked, and follows the agent out. You and Dave share a look, but instead of confusion, he sees resignation in the your E/C eyes, like you’re preparing yourself for the inevitable. It’s like you know what the conversation is about.
This only becomes clearer when Hotch walks back in fifteen minutes later, cuffs in hand and walking towards you.
“Y/N L/N, you’re under arrest for the murder of Alex Darcy, as well as Charles Gallway, Jacob Black, William Swan, and Eugene Simpsons. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney…”
There’s static in Dave’s ears.
No. It can’t be you.
—•—
“They’re not talking,” Hotch huffs out, walking into the small room behind the one-way glass. “They’ve only admitted that they know the five men.” He turns around. “Dave?”
The senior agent looks up, and it’s easy to see he’s upset; his eyes are bloodshot, and he occasionally sniffs. “Yeah?” His voice is hoarse.
“Do you think you could talk to them?” Aaron asks, eyes softening at the sight in front of him. Dave thinks for a moment before nodding, standing up and wiping his hands on his jeans. He heads to the door, opening it and stepping in. The sight pains him.
You’re in handcuffs, a neutral expression on your face as you stare at the wall. When you see Dave, though, you shatter. Your façade comes crumbling down, and tears well in your eyes.
“Kid, what have you done?” Rossi sighs, sitting opposite you. You wipe your eyes shakily, taking a deep breath. If you’re going to tell someone, you’d rather it be Dave than anyone else.
“When I was in high school,” you start, “Alex would always, always, find a way to hurt me. He’d shove me into lockers, lock me in them sometimes, hit me in the back of the head, fight me. You name it, he did it.” Dave’s heart pangs. “The other four where like his henchmen. One day, I was walking home and Alex grabs me and shoves me down and alleyway. He had this…metal pipe. And the beat me with it. It shattered my hand.”
Dave shakes his head. “So you wanted revenge?” You nod, and he slams his hand on the table. “Are you fucking kidding? It’s been nearly a decade kid! I get you were angry, but you went into law enforcement to fucking stop kids like you being hurt, not abuse your power to take revenge on who you see fit!” He flings the file open. “Jacob had a family, a wife and two daughters, and you took their father from them! All over some shit that happened in high school!”
You can’t say anything. Tears are streaming down your face. Dave’s no better. He’s angry, so angry. He let you in his house, invited you in when you had nowhere to go. You’ve played with Jack and Henry, acting as goalkeeper. You’ve been shopping with Garcia, renovated houses with Derek, and played chess with Spencer.
All this time, none of them knew.
“So you killed all of them?” Dave asks. You can’t do anything, you just nod. “Then we’re done here. I hope the law gives you what you deserve, Mx L/N.”
He turns around and leaves, closing the door to the interrogation room.
It locks with a click.