❝Hell is the absence of the people you long for.❞

EMILY ST. JOHN MANDEL

✩

0.1 : come home

ELEANOR ROOSEVELT ONCE SAID, "YOU HAVE TO ACCEPT WHATEVER COMES, AND THE ONLY IMPORTANT THING IS THAT YOU MEET IT WITH THE BEST YOU HAVE TO GIVE." Hazel Finley read these words eight months ago, and now she repeats them to herself over and over whenever her mind drifts to the life she left.

Today is a Sunday, and that means that it's her day to buy groceries for the week. So Fin walks the four blocks from her tiny apartment to the tiny supermarket down the road, waves hello to the Sunday evening cashier, and walks up and down the aisles, choosing only the essentials: eggs, milk, bread, some fruits and vegetables, and a pint of strawberry ice cream. It's been a rough week.

She makes small talk in Greek to the cashier, Andreas, who's barely twenty and has a major crush on her, pays for her groceries, and then heads out into the beautiful Athenian sunset. She checks her texts while waiting to cross the road; nothing from Ethan, her Interpol contact, and just as much nothing from Blair, her friend at the CIA. Esther's been dormant for the past two months, which is a good thing, but Fin hates this waiting thing. She half-wishes Esther would show up at her door so this whole thing could be over.

Because Hazel Finley has no friends in Athens. Sure, there's her landlord, who's an alcoholic and a collector of bird paintings; Andreas the cashier; the couple who live below her, Nikos and Ella, who like to walk together at five a.m.; and of course Ethan and Blair. But no one truly knows who she is.

And this shouldn't be an issue, not when she's used to this, when her whole life has been spent alone–but it hasn't.

Because two and a half years ago she found a family.

Thirty months.

And then eight months ago her mother threatened everything she loved.

So Fin left.

And no one in this damn country knows anything real about her.

Not even her name.

The name on her lease says Evi Jones. Her credit card says Evi Jones. Her drivers' license says Evi Jones. Thanks to CIA Witness Protection, no one calls her Fin here.

Hazel Finley doesn't exist in Greece.

Her phone rings just as she reaches the stairs that lead up to her apartment. The name on the screen says Blair Tran, so Fin sighs and picks up reluctantly. "Hey."

"Hey. Everything okay?" Blair sounds unnaturally cheery, but then again she's always happier than Fin is.

"Yeah, fine. Any news?"

"Nothing on Esther, if that's what you're wondering. But I did get a call from an SSA Aaron Hotchner this morning, asking to unseal your WITSEC files."

"What?" Fin almost chokes; she asked Hotch to leave it alone. Why isn't he listening to her? "Did you?"

"He has top secret clearance, Fin, and a decent reason to want those files. Was I supposed to tell him no?"

"I don't know, but you could've stalled him a little!" Fin jams her key into the lock angrily, balancing the grocery bag on her hip. "Blair, I moved to protect them, not because I want to live in Greece. And it sucks here, by the way."

"No, it sucks because you're hiding. If you actually took your head out of your ass and did fun things, you'd love it here." Blair's got that annoyingly condescending tone in her voice Fin hates so much, but it's usually there when she's right, which is worse.

"I can't," she says curtly, shoving her way into the tiny hallway and locking the door behind her.

"It's not that you can't. You're just afraid."

"For a good reason. My mom's killed over a dozen people. For all I know, she could be in my apartment right now, just waiting to kill me." Fin says this sarcastically, but the funny thing is, it's not all that impossible. Esther proved that eight months ago.

"I wish you wouldn't joke about that," Blair says quietly, and Fin wishes she felt bad for scaring her, but she doesn't. "Anyway, I've got a meeting to get to before I go home. Stay safe."

"Thanks." Fin hangs up, sets her phone on the kitchen counter, and pulls her groceries out of the bag, stacking them up next to the refrigerator. She curses silently when she realizes she forgot to buy any sort of meat, and when she turns around to grab her phone again, she spots the man sitting on her worn sofa and a quiet "Shit" escapes her lips.

His eyes meet hers and he stands immediately. Fin holds his gaze for a long moment, then turns around, opens the refrigerator door, and shoves the carton of eggs onto the middle shelf with a vengeance. After a tense minute of silence, she says, "I thought I told you I was fine."

"You didn't answer my last phone call. I was worried."

"I was busy."

"Agent Tran said you don't get out much."

Fin slams the fridge door harder than she means to. "Dammit, Aaron, I left to protect you! That doesn't mean anything if you break into my apartment on your week off."

"Your landlord had a spare key," Hotch replies quietly. "I didn't break in."

Fin crosses her arms over her chest, suddenly feeling vulnerable in her hoodie and leggings, compared to his perfectly tailored suit. "Well, Athens isn't exactly on the way to Quantico. What did you want?"

Hotch hesitates, but only briefly, pressing his lips together in a thin line. "I came with information–about Esther Hayward."

Fin's heart leaps into her throat, but she does her best to keep her face passive. "Oh?"

"I did some digging–and before you ask, no, Garcia doesn't know. I had Kevin look for me. It turns out that just over six years ago, Esther was transferred from Central Mississippi Correctional Facility to an all-female prison after an outbreak of sexual violence. A combination of good behavior and educational volunteering had her sentence reduced several times, and when she was transferred, she received a new parole officer, who was able to get her sentence reduced again by appealing to the court. She was paroled two years ago." Hotch sighs heavily. "And because you and your sister were placed under witness protection, you were no longer her next of kin. That's why you weren't notified."

Fin grips the edge of the cold countertop to keep herself steady. She doesn't trust her legs to hold her up. She focuses on her breath, staring at the floor. In for four... Out for four...

"But I have eyes on your apartment and Reid's," Hotch says quietly, when she finally glances up at him again. "And before you ask, he doesn't know. If she's watching, we'll see her first."

Strange, how you can go from feeling numb to feeling everything all at once in minutes. Fin closes her eyes, digs her fingernails into the countertop so hard she thinks her fingers might bleed. Focuses on slowing her heart rate.

When she can breathe normally, she looks back up at Hotch, willing her mind to work normally, to process what she's hearing. "You didn't come all the way here to tell me that in person. Blair or Ethan could have told me. What are you doing here?"

"Ethan...Chamberlain? At Interpol?" Hotch raises his eyebrows, purposefully avoiding the question. "He's working to find Esther, too, I assume."

"Don't play games, Aaron." Fin runs a hand through her hair, brushing it all away from her face. Suddenly she's extremely warm, despite the chilly weather outside. "Why are you really here?"

Hotch sighs heavily. "A few months ago, Chief Strauss brought an issue to my attention. The higher-ups at the Pentagon had offered JJ a job as liaison to the Department of Defense several times, but she'd always turned them down. The DOD doesn't like being told no, so they went over my head and over Strauss's to transfer JJ."

It's like being punched in the gut again. Fin can't imagine the BAU without JJ. It's like imagining a sunrise without the sun; it's not possible. "They–they can't do that, can they? Go over Strauss's head?"

"It's in the past, Fin," Hotch says gravely. "There's nothing we can do about it."

And then what he's asking clicks into place, like a lightbulb over her head. "And you want me to come back to fill JJ's place."

"Not as a liaison; Garcia and I are handling that side of things. We just need another voice in the room, another profiler around. JJ was a better profiler than we ever realized, and we're managing without her, but–"

"It's not the same." Fin knows. Bitterly, she realizes how much worse she must have made it. "And my leaving didn't help any, either."

When Hotch doesn't say anything, she laughs humorlessly. "You don't have to lie to me, Aaron. I know. I made it worse."

"You did what you thought you had to." Hotch is deadpan, blunt. Fin wishes he'd shout or scream or something. Maybe even hit her, she thinks wildly. Anything but this emotionless fact machine he becomes when things are serious.

"I can't go back." Fin shakes her head. "Not this soon. She'll still be–"

"There's a safe house ten minutes from Quantico," Hotch interrupts quietly. "There will be two agents with you at all times. She won't have a chance to touch you."

"It's not me I'm worried about, it's–"

"We're in danger all the time." Hotch almost cracks a smile, but of course he doesn't. "Any time we drive, any time we fly, and especially any time we're at gunpoint, which is often. No one on this team is afraid of danger, Fin. And especially not when it comes to one of our own."

His voice is so calm, so even, so perfectly professional, like he's conducting a polite interview. Fin slams her fist down on the counter, suddenly filled with spiteful anger at the man in front of her. "Dammit, Aaron, say something you mean! Say you're angry at me for lying, for keeping this from you!"

Hotch doesn't even flinch, doesn't move.

Fin swears violently, resisting the sudden urge to throw something at him. "You son of a bitch, don't you ever feel anything?"

Emotions she's bottled up for eight months spill out like a broken dam, pouring over Hotch, defenseless in her living room and who never asked for this. Fin just needs a damn outlet. She's been practically alone for over half a year, spending her days and nights waiting to hear that her mother's killed someone else, maybe even someone she loves, and avoiding the very people she needs the most in the world to keep them safe. She's convinced everyone must hate her for what she did.

So what Hotch says surprises her. He sighs for what must be the millionth time and says, "I am angry. But not because you hid this from me. I'm not even angry at you. I'm angry because I knew. Because I could tell something was bothering you and I didn't do anything about it. I didn't even ask. I'm furious at myself."

Fin remembers, from what seems a thousand years ago, the conversation Hotch had with Emily in Atlanta. When Emily said, "Hotch, we don't know her, and I honestly doubt anyone does. But she's a damn good agent and a damn good profiler, so I don't think it matters," and all Fin wanted was for her to ask. To say anything. To try for once to truly know Fin. Because a little part of her wants to be known so desperately, wants people to understand her and break her apart into pieces so that everything can be seen.

"I've gone over hundreds of applications since JJ left," Hotch says finally, breaking the tense silence between them. "There are plenty of promising candidates, but you are one of the best profilers I have ever met. And I won't pretend we don't miss you. It's your decision, but if you want to come back, I'll make the arrangements."

Fin turns around, pressing her back against the counter, hugging herself tightly, forcing herself not to think about the people she left. But her mind won't let her push them away. JJ and Penelope will be thrilled; Emily and Rossi happy too; Morgan will probably be angry at first.

And Spencer...

Fin's shocked to find she doesn't know how he'll react.

She doesn't know how she'll react either.

And out of the blue, unbidden, a single choked sob fights its way out of her throat, breaking through the walls she trusted to keep her emotions hidden. Fin bites the inside of her cheek, refusing to let Hotch see this side of her. She's been fine for eight months. Why should now be any different?

But for the second time today, Hotch surprises her.

He walks around the kitchen island, slowly, maybe so he doesn't scare her, and then hugs her. Gently, but entirely protective. The way a father might. The way her dad used to.

And every wall around Hazel Finley's heart falls away as she sobs into his shirt, holding onto him like a lifeline, gasping because all the oxygen in the room is gone.

Hotch says two words to her. They're quiet. But they're the most powerful words he's said all night.

"Come home."

Fin thinks she'd like that.

~

aaand we're back and ripping your heart out like always. i know i said i'd be taking a break, but this story has been bugging me, so the break's not gonna be as long as we thought hehe