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I had always had a talent for shutting people up. Whether that was a threat, a look, or some other uncomfortable comment I made, usually regarding myself, I found I could always get people to shut the hell up. Ever since I announced to the whole team that I’d killed people, that’s the reaction I received, which was fantastic considering they all already didn’t like me. Except for Emily who was the only one willing to even talk to me, but that information just reverted her back to thinking like everyone else, as it should for any normal person.
We boarded the jet, and I took my usual spot in the back, everyone else sitting or sleeping together in the front. Everyone had something they could do on the plane. Morgan and his music, Reid and his books, Prentiss and Jareau sleeping together, Aaron and Rossi talking to each other. I would listen to music but they refused to give me a phone (which was fair enough) and I would read but I guess they’re worried that I’d be inclined to give others papercuts? It was ridiculous. I had to sit there with my thoughts (something I’d grown way too accustomed to) or look through another case file. I opted for the latter.
Usually what other people did or said to me didn’t bother me. What other people did or said to other people didn’t particularly bother me either. But for some reason, this last case bothered me. These young women, who were the same age as me and looked a lot like me, were found exsanguinated in a ditch. They were all perfect students with perfect families and perfect friends. They were going places.
And then they weren’t.
Which especially pissed me off. Then I was pissed off that I was especially pissed off. So I decided that I needed to keep my mind occupied. That’s the funny thing about this job, looking at a new serial killer case is actually better than contemplating other disturbing thoughts.
I had just opened the next case file when someone sat down in the seat across from me.
“Aundreya,” Aaron said.
“Aaron,” I replied. “Uh I mean, Hotchner.”
“Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Correct yourself like that, calling me Hotchner?” I could see the sincerity in his eyes. He always looked so stone cold, but in that moment I could see something different. It worried me.
“I don’t know. I guess I realized the people you consider family aren’t even on a first name basis with you, so why should I be?”
“You don’t even use nicknames. I’m Hotchner, JJ is Jareau, Spencer is Dr. Reid …”
Because I haven’t earned them yet. I haven’t gotten to the point where they’d be okay with me calling them anything else. I’d be impeding on your guys’ territory. Any of these explanations would fit, but I didn’t feel like admitting any of them.
“Look, Hotchner-”
“You can call me Aaron,” he cut me off. My mouth hung open midsentece, the words evaporating from my tongue. My confusion must have been painted on my face because he quickly followed with, “You’ve always called me Aaron. It’s weird to hear you call me something different. Plus, sometimes I need someone other than Dave to remind me what my first name is.”
Was that … a joke? From Aaron Hotchner? I really must be losing it.
“Okay … Aaron ,” I emphasized, “Why are you really here? I’m fairly certain you didn’t make the treacherous trip all the way over to the opposite end of the plane just to ask me about nicknames.”
“True. I actually wanted to ask how you were doing.”
“So are you going to?” I asked. Even when he was trying to be nice I couldn’t override my instinct to be an ass.
“Going to what?”
“Ask how I’m doing?” There are those unamused, dagger eyes I know and love.
“You’re stalling.”
“In fact I am, sir,” I responded. There were plenty of things in the world I disliked, but the thing I hated above all else, was talking about myself and those things called emotions. It all just felt so foreign.
Aaron looked at me for a while before speaking. It’s like I could physically see the ice melting around his eyes, softening them back up. And profiling. Always profiling.
Finally, he came out with it. “Why do you struggle in silence?”
Those six words hit me like a brick from a skyscraper. No one had ever cared enough to ask, not even Deen or Sydney. It sent an entire shock wave through my system.
Struggling in silence was the only real way I’d learned how to cope with everything over the years. No one on the streets wanted to hear about what was going wrong in your life and why it sucked because theirs’ always sucked more. Better yet, you brought it upon yourself and it was somehow your fault. Oh your mom and sister died in a fire? My dad killed my mom then committed suicide. Oh you’re out here on the streets at 14? Try 12. Oh you’re being sexually abused in a gang? You joined it.
Once I got thrown in prison, there was no time for feelings. Adapt or die. Either you shoved it all down, proved your worth, and reacted on instinct, or you went soft and got eaten alive. Not like anyone going to prison is necessarily ‘soft’ to begin with.
The only thing I could think to do was deflect. “What do you mean?”
“You insist on sitting here alone with your thoughts and they’re tearing you apart. Instead of talking about them, you compress them and turn them into rage that comes out in random bursts. Usually you can keep it in check, but I saw something different this week, especially today. So how are you doing?” The concern was swimming in his eyes. There was something soothing about the way he could keep his voice calm and quiet when relaying any sort of information. He could convince me the year was 1872 and unicorns existed.
“I’m doing a whole hell of a lot better than those girls, I’ll tell you that. I’m not bleeding out in a ditch, so I’d say I’m doing pretty well,” I said more harshly than I intended.
“Is that what this is about? The case we just worked?”
I sighed and looked down. “It doesn’t really matter.”
“Of course it matters. The work we do matters and each team member matters,” he replied. We sat there in silence for a while before he spoke again. “If you aren’t going to tell me what’s going on, which I figured you wouldn’t, at least tell me why you choose to struggle in silence.”
I took a deep breath. “It’s what I’ve always done, and it’s not like I have any other options.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that no one wants to hear my problems. I don’t even want to hear my problems. There’s not a single person on the planet that wants to listen to a street rat gang criminal complain about what’s bothering her,” I answered. It’s true. I bet the nicest shrink out there would roll their eyes at the idea of me complaining. “Anything that’s an issue for me I’ve probably brought upon myself anyway and if I haven’t, I’m sure I deserve it.”
“You know that’s not true. Each person deserves to-”
“Not me, Aaron, not me. I’m not deserving of whatever it was you were about to say. I’m much more deserving to swap places with those girls because they definitely didn’t deserve to die like that,” I said. I wanted to hit myself for saying anything at all. He didn’t actually want to hear what I had to say, he probably just asked so that he still seemed like a good unit chief. Aaron just looked at me, realization forming on his face. “And I don’t deserve to be complaining. Especially not to you.”
“Especially not to me?”
“Especially not to any of you. Every single person on this plane has their fair share of issues and is doing just fine. You don’t need my problems being spread around on top of that. So yeah, I choose to struggle in silence.”
“So you think that just because you have a troubled past, you don’t deserve to have a weight lifted off your shoulders?” he prompted.
“You could say that,” I responded. His eyes were still questioning and he let the air hang between us, waiting for me to fill the void. “It just doesn’t make sense to me, you know? Like why were those smart, pure women who had good things going for them cut short at 23 while I’ve made just about every bad decision in the book and I’m still kicking?”
Hotch was incredible at giving intense eye contact and not breaking it. Yet right when I finished talking, I saw his eyes flick to the side in the direction where I assumed everyone else was sitting. It was only for a millisecond, but it was just enough to alert me that not everyone was preoccupied or sleeping like I’d initially thought when I first sat down, turning my back to the rest of the team. I tried not to let on that I’d seen it.
“Trust me, everyone who has ever worked for the FBI has asked that same question. My best answer is that we still have work to do,” he offered. It was a valid enough answer, but I was still irritated. Irritated that I’d let on I was bothered, irritated that I’d just admitted it out loud, irritated that he was so level headed about it. I was determined not to share any more about myself and my feelings. It made me feel gross.
Apparently among Hotch’s many talents was also mind reading, because he followed with, “Just so you know, in case you ever decide to stop struggling in silence, the team and I are here for you.”
I scoffed, shaking my head at him. “No. They’re not. But I appreciate you saying that and I appreciate you being here. Even though I know you still don’t fully trust or respect me.” He looked at me with a combination of shock, betrayal, and wonder. He immediately reverted back to stone, which he did whenever he felt like he was being read too easily, like a defense mechanism. Like I’d seen something I shouldn’t have.
“Oh, come on, Aaron. I know it’s taking every fiber in your body not to just slap handcuffs on me right here right now and keep it that way. Don’t worry, I’m not offended by it. It makes sense considering you’ve spent over twelve years dedicated to putting handcuffs on people like me. That’s why I especially appreciate your efforts to fight that very same instinct you’ve been fine-tuning all these years.” I didn’t think it was possible, but I had rendered the great Aaron Hotchner speechless. He looked at me with that blank expression, but his eyes spoke volumes. They told me that I was right, that he never intended for me to know that, and that he was not used to being on the receiving end of being profiled.
I gave him a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. “But don’t worry. If I ever get tired of it, or decide my method of coping is no longer working for me, you will be the first to know.”
Still not knowing exactly what to do, Aaron nodded, got up from his place across from me, and started walking back to where he was sitting before. I caught him just before he got out of arm's reach.
“Oh and Aaron,” I stopped him with a slight smirk, “I think it’d do you some good to remind your children that eavesdropping is supposedly rude.”
I received a single nod and the beginnings of a smirk as he turned to walk away.
From behind me I heard Rossi whisper, “ Supposedly rude, huh?”
“I guess because she’s the master at it,” Morgan whispered.
“I knew she’d know we were listening,” Prentiss joined.
“Your children ?” Reid asked. I allowed myself a slight smile when he said that.
“She’s not completely wrong, though,” Aaron answered. I could basically feel the teasing and silent laughs radiating from behind me.
I shook my head, slightly amused at how on-edge I could make six FBI profilers. I directed my attention back to the case file in front of me, grateful to finally let the irritated feeling looming over me dissipate.