chapter fifteen / season three episode nine.

AMELIA LEVINE FELT HER HEART DROP TO HER STOMACH A MILLION TIMES A DAY, to the point Amelia had gotten used to that sinking feeling and the burn it left behind.

But, because it happened to her so frequently (on cases most of the time) she could always remember the ones that left the strongest burn.

Most of the time it would be an unsub's actions that caused her heart to drop and she really would question who was sick enough to do this to another person. Amelia knew there were psychological reasons for some, and some just did it for fun - those who did it for fun usually caused her stomach to drop more often than the psychological reasons.

Amelia remembered where she was when her heart truly dropped three times before.

The first time was when she was seven, making herself a bowl of cereal for school that morning. Amelia had known something was wrong when her mom and dad came down the stairs still dressed in their pajamas. The seven year old was ready for school and neither of her parents seemed ready to take her, which was odd considering it was usually Thomas shouting at her to get ready quicker.

It was a Wednesday, that usually meant it was her dad taking her to school.

They had told her to sit down and leave her breakfast in the kitchen. Amelia had been confused, so confused. And her parents left in her in a wondering silence for at least two minutes before speaking to her again. Originally, Amelia had thought that was just so they could prepare themselves for what they had to tell their daughter but knowing them it probably hadn't been.

Her heart dropped when Thomas told her that her Grandma had died, peacefully.

Amelia didn't understand. Her eyebrows furrowed and her vision became blurred. She'd only seen her Grandma the day before and they'd visited the park, they'd swung their hands back and forth and nearly hit someone in the face. Grandma had been perfectly fine the day before. And then she had just died...

Yet, Amelia was the only crying at the kitchen table that morning. Her own mother didn't cry. Thomas didn't even look bothered.

Grandma may have hated Thomas (for valid reasons) but they still could've shown their daughter some love in that moment. They could've consoled their daughter and smothered her in kisses and hugs.

But they didn't.

Thomas went upstairs to get dressed for work.

Martha excused herself to take a shower.

Amelia sat at that table for a further fifteen minutes, her sobs and the sound of running water being the only noises heard in the house.

Amelia only moved when her father forced her out of the chair and into the car to be dropped off at school. The whole day her heart had burned and her eyes felt the undying need to close and never open again.

Her heart burned so bad that Amelia swore it had burnt into two and that nothing would ever be able to piece it back together.

That was the first time Amelia could remember where and when her heart burned. And for most of her teenage years, there was nothing that could ever live up to that pain in her chest.

That was her first loss, her first grief. And no-one ever helped relieve her of that burn. She only had herself.

She had to hold her own hand. Fix herself.

The second time Amelia felt that burn was in an examination room in Washington Medical Center at eighteen years old. Amelia clung on tightly to her mom's hand and tried to listen to the words that fell from the doctors lips. She tried, she really did. But, Amelia found it hard to listen after 'breast cancer' fell from his lips and a whole lot of medical jumbo followed afterwards.

Amelia didn't quite know how to react to that.

She knew her heart burned and her stomach hurt from the drop her heart had just made.

But she didn't cry. No. No.

Amelia couldn't find it in herself to cry then, not as her mother clung to her in that moment. One of them had to be strong, and if Amelia had to hold back the tears and assume that role until it was late at night then she could handle that.

She could be strong for her mother because Martha Levine deserved someone strong in that moment.

The mother and daughter had arms wrapped tightly around one another and both were too afraid to pull away just incase.

The doctor had said this was easily fightable, that a plan could be drawn up and Martha could one day be admitted to remission.

Martha would never be cancer free.

But she could be in remission.

Amelia wished Martha didn't have to be either. But, when she had cried into her father's arms that night he had told her: "It's unlucky. But it's the way the world works."

So, the second time Amelia's heart had dropped she found herself in her mother's arms, which was something she couldn't say often but also something she'd never forget.

The third time her burn came around in the most memorable of ways.

Amelia would never forget standing outside that bank with one hand formed into a fist and beating against her thigh, while her free hand was picking at the nail polish on her thumb.

Clara. Clara had been the cause, she hadn't meant to be but she was.

Clara had been the cause of the final heart drop on that day but she hadn't been the first.

Amelia had felt her heart drop the moment she rolled out of bed, which was surprising for Amelia. Usually, it was a pit that formed in her stomach warning her this was undoubtedly going to be a bad day, and she was really going to have to work through this one.

But a heart drop?

That could only mean something worse. Something astronomically worse than a bad day.

It had been hard to get out of bed, her heart drop combined with her exhaustion had made it all the more difficult to throw the duvet off her body and lift her head from the pillow. Amelia had only done so because her front door had been opened with the spare key, and Clara had strutted into the apartment singing loudly for seven am and holding two cups of coffee in her hands.

The younger agent had stood at the foot of what she called her mentors bed and said, "What are you doing?"

Amelia had huffed and snuggled further into her duvet, "Sleeping."

"If you were sleeping, you wouldn't be talking." Clara responded and sipped on her iced coffee.

"Thanks, Captain Obvious."

Clara rolled her eyes and perched herself on the edge of the bed, "I know you're tired but with all the complaints we've put in lately, James will not be able to put you on any negotiation today. I threatened to quit if he did, and the Section Chief had not taken that lightly."

The Section Chief had not, he had stormed around the office all day with the meanest scowl and him and Conrad James had engaged in a loud conversation.

Clara hadn't stopped laughing until their Unit Chief had shot them all glares before huffing and puffing his way down to the donut shop on the corner.

Amelia had all the agents huddled around her desk, she had been persistent in telling them that they didn't have to do that for her. She didn't need to be their problem, the exhaustion - and no doubt - burn out she was facing was something she would just have to work through.

All the agents around her desk looked ready to smack her silly and tell her to stop being stupid.

It was Amelia. An amazing agent who needed to be on her finest form if they were all going to try as a unit to get her into her dream unit.

Clara huffed and set the coffees down onto the floor before yanking the duvet off her best friend's body, "Up! Up! Come on, today could be my first solo negotiation and you wanna stay in bed for it?"

Amelia believed Clara would be a great negotiator, but she wasn't ready to go in alone. The girl needed a lot more lessons before doing that.

Amelia just hoped James would send her and Clara in together instead of making a stupid decision.

By the time they'd reached the office that morning, four coffees had been shoved down Amelia's throat and a case was ready for them.

Clara had made sure to shove some of Amelia's highlighters into her pocket so that they could highlight the important information on the way over to the scene, it was even more important considering Amelia was exhausted and unable to pick out the important information as best as possible.

Clara applauded Amelia, she really did. Not only was she a driven agent, who had been nothing but an amazing mentor and even better friend, but she was also running on about three hours of rest and still standing.

Anyone who knew Clara knew that the woman needed at least a solid seven hours to be approachable. Unless you were Amelia, then you could approach the girl and supply her with coffee in hopes of winning her over and getting her out of a foul mood.

For some odd reason, Amelia felt her stomach sink when they got out of their SUVs, which were a safe distance from the bank but still close enough.

Their tent was already set up and James Conrad was already stood underneath it commanding anyone and everyone. He had scared the life out of one of the tech kids who were just trying their best to help him and keep up with his demands that just kept coming. But, he also looked more pissed off than usual.

That was probably due to the numerous complaints that came from the members of his own team and the pressure he was facing from the Section Chief.

If James Conrad was being honest, he only had one agent he liked in his unit and he tried his best not to show it (and failed) But, he saw talent right before him and he wasn't just going to let Amelia go when the opportunity came, he wanted Amelia at his side forever.

Because that would mean good publicity for him. And Amelia was only a farty, little, anxious thing who didn't know how to talk back to him, so if he put a foot wrong he always had a scapegoat.

James had clearly missed the signs of his unit turning against him due to his recent divorce, and his head hadn't been in the game, that's the why the complaints had really pissed him off. 1) because they weren't true. And 2) he was supposed to be the only one who liked Amelia, not the rest of his useless agents.

They all stood close to each other as they approached him, and James decided to ignore the bags under his favorite agent's eyes because he had bigger problems.

A suicide bomber and 45 hostages.

A busy day. Not just for the bank.

It was a Friday, on pay day.

Amelia deduced that the suicide bomber wanted a bigger audience, and he was the type of bomber that chased after fame and a bank with 45 hostages in would definitely get your name splattered all over the front page if you succeed in blowing it up.

Hopefully he didn't.

The bomber wasn't the only one in there, he had four gunmen with him - one of which had already decided to go against the group's original plan and had shot a hostage who was currently bleeding out.

The bomber had demanded a doctor.

Amelia knew they just wanted to add medical personnel to their kill list, if they succeed.

When James asked if any of agents were ready to go in as the medical personnel, everyone but Amelia put her hand up. In an ordinary situation, where she wasn't on three hours sleep, Conrad probably would've already of sent her in as he knew the history she had of stitching herself back up after a cut or something.

James had sighed when she remained quiet.

He really had to send one of the others in?

That meant the negotiation was already an instant fail.

But, then again, is sympathy what he needed..? Did he need the Section Chief back on his side? Absolutely.

And if James was to claim that he was sending, who he thought, to be his most prepared agent in at the vise of Amelia's advice then it's not his fault. And all those lackluster and false complaints suddenly disappear.

And everyone feels bad for the Unit Chief who listened to one of his own agents.

"Beaumont. Go over to those doctors, I suppose you're not medically trained?"

Clara shook her head, as Amelia felt her stomach plummet, "No, Sir."

James nodded, even if her answer had clearly pissed him off even further, "Right, talk to the paramedics and they'll walk you through what you've got to do, then come back here and get your vest on."

Clara walked away, happily, as she sent Amelia a smile.

The agents around Amelia exchanged looks. That was their newbie, she shouldn't go in alone.

Amelia stepped forward, apprehensively, "Alone? You're sending her in alone?"

James shrugged, "Yeah? I don't see a problem with that, Levine."

Amelia seemed to wake up. Her back straightened and there was disbelief that clouded her eyes, "She can't go in alone, and you know that better than anyone. She's never done a solo negotiation. It's textbook, that those on their first negotiation do not go in alone."

"She's never been on the inside of one, she's always stood outside and listened in." Amelia pointed out the facts, but James was not listening.

He shrugged the matter off again, "She's a big girl, she has to learn how to do these things by herself."

"Yeah, with backup. So, then if something goes wrong at least she'll have someone there to lead the right direction." Amelia's fists clenched at her side.

She wasn't anxious or frightened of this man. Which surprised her the most. She doesn't pick fights with her unit chief, that's not her. But, Amelia knew what was wrong and she could push all fears aside if that meant sending two people into that building.

Conrad scoffed and swirled around to face her, "Should I send you in, Levine?" He sneered, "Or is your health impacting your job so much that you can't even stop a suicide bomber?"

"Send me in with Clara."

James was perplexed, "Is that a demand?" His eyebrows were furrowed as Amelia had never been one to speak back to him, usually if she was to disagree with him she'd fall back into line and let it slide.

"Yeah, it is."

He laughed, darkly, "You don't make the demands around here, Levine. I am the Unit Chief, and you are just an agent."

"You are a Unit Chief who is making an idiotic decision if you let Clara go in there by herself, she needs backup." Amelia couldn't believe she had to she had to argue for something that should've been obvious to the Unit Chief.

James smirked, "Do you not trust your best friend?"

Amelia scoffed, "Of course I do. But, do you know how many lives have been lost in solo first negotiations because the negotiator gets nervous and has no backup? Are you just going to let Clara be added to that list?"

He stepped closer to her, "I won't be the person who got Clara added to that list."

Amelia's eyebrows furrowed as his voice turned to a whisper, "It'll be your fault."

"What?" She looked up at him and only saw malice in his expression and Amelia couldn't quite tell where it all came from.

"Now, get back in line and shut up, Levine. You should be happy for Beaumont."

"You can't seriously—"

"Levine!" His voice raised and all eyes in the area were now diverted in their direction, none of them had missed Amelia's flinch.

But they had missed her fist hitting her thigh in rapid succession.

Clara came bouncing over to them with a green medical bag in her hands. "I'm ready, Sir."

"Good, get in there."

Amelia stepped forward again, trying to ignore the shaking rage in her fists, "You're not going to prep her? You're just sending her in?"

"If she's half the agent you praise her to be, she'll do perfectly fine." James sneered at Amelia.

"Do your job." Amelia looked at him in disgust, "Is that so hard? It takes ten minutes to prep an agent, it could be ten minutes that save her life."

James didn't seem to care.

Amelia shook her head and pulled Clara away to the side, if James wasn't going to do his job then Amelia was quite happy to do it for him.

She couldn't wait to get back and fill in that complaint form hidden away in one of her desk drawers.

Clara had been listening to every word that fell from Amelia's lips like it was a prayer, she promised not to forget any of them and use them as her guidebook when dealing with narcissistic, attention-seeking bank robbers.

Amelia helped Clara into her vest before engulfing her in a hug.

Clara, albeit a bit taken back, embraced her best friend and squeezed onto her tight.

Neither of them missed the way Clara's hands had begun to shake.

Clara would blame the excitement of her first solo negotiations.

Amelia would see it for what it was: nerves.

"Good luck." Amelia pulled away and took in every detail of Clara, the brown eyes, the beautiful tan skin, the cheeky smirk she always seemed to wear. Clara. Beautiful Clara. "You've got this."

"I know I do." There was a shake in Clara's voice that distorted her words, her cocky phrase suddenly loosing its element.

Amelia nodded slowly and looked over at James with one last look of desperation, almost as if she was begging him to follow Clara into that building.

He just stared right back at her.

Clara was at the front doors and decided to look back one last time. There stood her douchey Unit Chief, her best friend and her other friends who she'd come to love. But, she never loved them as much as she loved Amelia. The others were good for a night out and teamship.

They didn't live next door to her, like Amelia did. They didn't spit random serial killer facts at her, like Amelia did. They certainly didn't watch Forest Gump with the young girl, so many times that they knew the script, like Amelia did. And they hadn't made her soup when her mother had passed, like Amelia did.

Sure, Amelia was a ball of nerves waiting to come undone and you had a lot of layers to peel back before you reached the true Amelia but all that effort and waiting is so worth it when you get to Amelia. The Amelia that didn't just smile but the Amelia who kicks you under the chair and takes you out for coffee after a bad day, or reading or watching your favorite film so that she can talk about it with you. Or the incredibly thoughtful Christmas and Birthday gifts.

Or your favorite flowers on Valentine's Day.

There was so much Amelia had done for Clara Beaumont outside of work that the younger agent couldn't imagine life without her mentor, who had quickly turned into her best friend.

That's who her look back had been for. The smallest of smiles sent in her mentor's way.

Amelia had tried to smile back, and she did, but it faltered the second Clara stepped into the building and the feed from her mic started playing.

Amelia couldn't listen.

But she had to.

Amelia had to stand there and listen to Clara, whose voice wavered with every word, her hands undoubtedly shaking and stumbling over every other word. And it had only been two minutes.

Amelia shook her head, she couldn't stand here anymore.

She maneuvered around the tent and picked up a vest, in a second James had noticed her action and was at her side.

"What are you doing?" He asked through gritted teeth.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Amelia hissed back, tightening the straps on her vest and spinning round to face her Unit Chief.

"Something foolish."

Amelia rolled her eyes, "No. I'm not foolish, Sir, the foolish one here is you. Clara is not ready to be in a situation like this alone, I'm going in as backup because she needs it. If I don't go in there now, then the consequences will be..."

Deathly.

"You go in that building and you lose your job." He threatened.

Amelia tilted her head to the side, "Try me. It's not going to be my ass on the line after today, believe me."

She stepped away from him and was no longer under the safety of the tent. It was weird that something without any walls provided her with such protection before stalking into a building that held a fate unknown to her.

And to Clara.

"Levine!" James' shout didn't have the same effect it had on her last time, this time she'd didn't flinch instead she spun around and shrugged at him. "Get back here! As your Unit Chief...!"

Amelia paused and laughed at him.

She was still at a distance away from the tent that he had to shout to communicate with her, but still at a distance away from the bank that she was safe if anything was going to happen.

She wiggled her fingers at Conrad before spinning back around and exhaling deeply.

Amelia was ready to walk into that bank on three hours sleep and provide Clara with the necessary support that the agent needed.

That's what she was going to do.

It wasn't what she was going to do.

Because Amelia's stomach would drop for what felt like the hundredth time that day as some of the windows imploded and the remaining ones became covered in blood (whose, she didn't know) and a bang surrounded in the area that caused Amelia to shield her ears and bend down at the impact of the blast.

Tell me that was a different building.

Tell me that the building, the bank, that Clara Beaumont is stood in has not just gone up in flames because the suicide bomber succeeded.

Do not tell me that Clara's first solo negotiation was her last.

That was the third time Amelia felt a burn in his chest and cracks form in her heart, and she didn't know when they'd heal. Justice for Clara didn't heal them, it made it worse. No matter the fact Conrad James lost his job, Amelia still felt at fault.

If she'd just tried harder...

If she'd fought harder...

Amelia had to squeeze her eyes shut whenever the thought crossed her mind.

She had to clench her fists whenever another member of the unit looked like they were about to get shot, or go into a situation without backup.

She had to remind herself they weren't Clara. They were Emily. They were Derek. They were JJ. They were Spencer. They were David.

And they were Aaron.

They weren't Clara.

Penelope Garcia wasn't Clara.

Right?

Because that had been Amelia's first thought when her heart dropped in the middle of her kitchen, and the burn in her chest nearly made her throw up right there and then.

Penelope was shot right outside her apartment and just left on her steps.

Just left there.

One of Amelia's hands settled against her chest and rubbed at the sore spot already forming, the other hand was used as a muzzle to quieten the sob that threatened to sound from her.

"Amelia?" Aaron Hotchner's voice failed to bring her back to her earth. To Amelia, it sounded like he was on a different planet, not just a voice over the phone. "Amelia."

No. No. No.

"Stay there, I'm on my way."

What did he say? Amelia wasn't listening. She was putting the phone down onto the tile of her kitchen cabinet and sinking down to the floor, rubbing at her heart that couldn't find a regular beat.

The phone call from her Unit Chief was long abandoned, to the point Amelia couldn't even remember him calling.

Amelia didn't remember much of what he'd said over the phone call. It was just Penelope, gun shot, surgery.

Those three words didn't exactly mix well for a woman like Amelia.

Penelope, Amelia! Not Clara!

It didn't seem to matter in that moment what Penelope's name was because all Amelia could see was Clara.

Beautiful, beautiful Clara. Who had to have a closed casket funeral because her body parts were scattered around the blown up inside of the bank, her blood being one of the many splattered across the window.

Beautiful, beautiful, Penelope. Left to bleed out on her front steps, found by a stranger and no-one she knew. Hands belonging to doctors all up in her body right now.

There was an audible sob that sounded as Amelia imagined attending another funeral.

No, Amelia! She's not Clara.

She's not a negotiator, she's a technical analyst. She's not blown to pieces with no chance of a recovery, she's in surgery as the doctors try their best to bring her back to you.

Does that sound like Clara?

No.

But the situations, no matter how different, felt so suffocating it made Amelia claw at her throat as if that would force any oxygen down into her lungs that were desperate to breathe.

Amelia was too focused on the erratic sound of her breathing to realize her front door had been left unlocked, meaning anyone could just waltz in.

Luckily, it had been Aaron Hotchner and not some random.

She'd never seen him so concerned for her.

But he was at her side in an instant, speaking but she couldn't hear.

Amelia felt like she couldn't hear a single thing.

Not a single thing that was actually happening in the present moment. But instead the blast.

The ringing in her ears that had followed, the screaming from officers in the area, the gasps that came from the area in which the public stood.

And the sound that had came from her. It was somewhere between a cry, a gasp and a scream all in one.

"Amelia." Hotchner's voice was trying to break through her horrid memory and it seemed to be working. "Focus on me. Listen to my voice."

Amelia didn't even realize she was doing it as her hearing became clearer.

"Amelia, can you hear me now?"

Was that another attack? Had Amelia just had another attack?

No. Surely not. It hadn't felt the same.

Amelia just felt scared. Scared for Penelope, and all the fear she'd felt for Clara had just come back in waves that she hadn't expected.

In waves that she'd underestimated the size of.

Amelia nodded her head at the Unit Chief, her shaky hands gripping onto her knee caps.

"Okay," he whispered, more likely to himself than Amelia, "Okay. Do you want to stay here, or come to the hospital?"

Amelia looked up at him as if he'd asked the stupidest question on earth. She didn't care that she probably couldn't stand on one leg right now, she had to be at that hospital.

She needed to be at that hospital no matter her own state of mind.

The Unit Chief knew he probably shouldn't have given Amelia the option but it was either he drives her to the hospital, or he leaves her here while he waits with the rest of the team for Penelope to get out of surgery.

Leaving her here would be the biggest mistake.

Aaron couldn't bring himself to do that.

And this way, he drove her to the hospital, he got to keep an eye on her. Aaron would watch her closely and try to comfort her, even if he didn't know the full story.

He knew Amelia had sealed files from her time in negotiations, sealed files he had begged Strauss to open but the woman refused.

Aaron had thought about asking Penelope but he didn't go through with it.

Strauss had decided to reveal all small amount of the matter to him, before deciding she couldn't reveal anymore because it was classified.

Bitch.

"Can you stand?" Aaron was rushing, he needed to get back to JJ at the hospital before the others started arriving but he also wanted to make sure Amelia was okay and had enough time to recover from her crying before facing the unit.

Amelia didn't think she'd ever forget this moment.

And she pushed recovery aside.

Amelia just needed to get to the hospital.

Right now.

So, her chauffeur better stop asking if she's alright and get her there pronto.

✺

Amelia was catching her breath and trying to regulate it, the best way to do that (for her) was sitting silently and trying to ignore any hospital like sounds and focus instead on in and out.

Newsflash: that breathing exercise totally doesn't fucking work.

So, Amelia had settled for counting sheep. Which would usually be a method to help her fall asleep, but it had actually proved more useful for when she tried to catch her breath and find some regularity in a time of immense chaos.

Due to the chaos and her dedication to counting sheep, Amelia had failed to mention to her Unit Chief or JJ why Derek was unreachable.

Whoops.

Amelia presumed Aaron Hotchner would've been the type to pace a hospital waiting room until he wore a hole into the floor, but he hadn't. He'd sat next to her, in the seats opposite JJ.

Aaron had decided not to pace to spare Amelia the unease.

Amelia hadn't realized that.

She was on sheep 1,992. She was busy.

Not busy enough to keep concentrated when Spencer came in, JJ had rushed to keep him informed.

Neither Aaron or Amelia moved a muscle.

Out of the corner of her eye, she swore that his hand was reaching out for hers. (Like it had done in his office) But something held him back.

Aaron did have to stand up when Dave came in demanding to know something, anything.

"Police think it was a botched robbery." Aaron told him.

Amelia hadn't noticed Emily behind David. Perhaps her senses were a bit too all over the place at the moment.

"Where's Morgan?" Emily asked, as the agents were all stood in a circle apart from Amelia.

"He's not answering his cell." JJ responded.

Solemnly, all eyes fell onto Amelia.

She didn't even notice.

She was up to 2006 sheep now.

That must be an all time high.

"I'll call him again." Reid muttered when they realized Amelia was not going to be much help right now.

"What aren't you saying?" Rossi asked Aaron, quietly and directly.

The Unit Chief glanced behind him to see Amelia still muttering numbers under her breath and guided Dave away.

He wasn't too far away, but he also wasn't too close.

As long as Amelia didn't hear.

"I spoke to one of the paramedics who brought her in. It doesn't look good." The words felt wrong even as they came out of his mouth.

Regrettably, David had to nod his head. "And what about the kid?"

The kid? Aaron's eyebrows furrowed? Was that Reid's new nickname or something, that would make sense considering he was the youngest on the team.

But, Rossi seemed to subtly point to Amelia behind them.

The kid? Since when did Rossi refer to Amelia as 'kid'?

She was the third youngest on the team.

Aaron shook his head slowly, "Not good. But, I want be the one to talk with her, unless Derek gets here first."

Reid shook his head at the Unit Chief, "Morgan's phone just keeps going straight to voicemail." Because he's at Church.

"Where the hell is he?" Emily raised her voice slightly to see if it would get Amelia's attention.

It did nothing of the sort.

She was at 2036 sheep now.

What was the Guiness word record?

JJ and Emily exchanged a look before placing themselves in the seats beside Amelia, testing to see if that would grab the agent's attention.

She just kept counting under her breath.

"Amelia?" Emily asked, her voice now levels lower than it had been just. "Do you know where Derek is?"

Silence.

But, she reached 2045 sheep.

JJ frowned, "Amelia, can you tell us where Derek is?"

Church.

2050 sheep.

Was her breathing regular yet? Did her chest rise and fall in equal, and steady patterns?

It felt like it did?

It felt like all the oxygen she had been desperately missing from her lungs had returned to her, and those 2050 sheep were no longer of any use to her.

She was actually present now.

She was in the waiting room with the rest of the team, waiting. Just waiting.

Her throat felt sore but she looked at Emily and JJ as if she was ready to speak.

JJ's eyebrows furrowed when she realized Amelia was ready to speak, "You know where Derek is?"

Amelia nodded her head and cleared her throat, "Church."

Her voice was hoarse and it felt like she hadn't spoke in years, when really it had only been a matter of hours.

A long two hours at that.

"Church?" Emily asked, "Which one?"

The Unit Chief stared at the Emily in disbelief! Amelia just sounded like she'd gotten out of a coma and was asking her the name of which Church Derek was currently sat in.

Because that seemed like a good idea.

Amelia shrugged her shoulders. In all honesty, she'd just dropped Morgan off at the closest one to her house... she didn't exactly know the name of the Church.

Emily sighed and decided to move herself next to Reid so that she could quietly ask him the name of the churches in Amelia's area.

JJ decided to follow after Emily, but not for the same reasons. The blonde was able to tell that Amelia needed some form of space. That was why the agent had been sat by herself when they'd arrived, and Amelia clearly still needed that space.

Or, that's what JJ thought.

Hotchner immediately took JJ's place and eyed Amelia.

To save herself, her voice was quiet when she spoke, cracking on occasion, "I counted 2050 sheep."

He tried to crack a smile for her, to see if that would put her at ease, but he couldn't smile. He was too worried. "That must be a world record."

It better be.

She looked up at him and he recognized a need within her to talk, to talk about something to him, but another presence distracted her.

Derek was here.

Amelia and Aaron remained seated at his arrival.

JJ jumped up to inform him of what happened, "She's been in surgery a couple hours."

"I was in Church, my phone was off." He told her.

"There's nothing you could have been doing here." Reid tried to comfort him with that fact.

He could've been counting sheep.

"The police got any leads?" Derek asked.

Aaron sat up straighter, "I spoke to the lead detective. He doesn't think we'll get anything from the scene."

Derek heard the words Aaron said, but his eyes fell onto the woman sat beside him. Amelia.

She looked worse than him.

Derek exhaled in frustration as a doctor came round the corner.

Amelia found some energy to stand up when she saw him.

"The bullet went in her chest and ricocheted into her abdomen." Derek's hand searched for Amelia's and clung onto it at the Doctor's words, "She lost a lot of blood."

"It was touch and go for a while, but we were able to repair the injuries."

Amelia felt like a weight was lifted from their shoulders, "So, she's alive?"

It was not the question anyone else would've asked. But it was Amelia's.

And Derek understood why.

Aaron felt like he almost knew why.

Spencer was trying to piece it together himself.

JJ, Emily and Rossi didn't have a clue.

The Doctor's eyes fell on her, "She is."

The agents watched as the tension in Amelia's back disappeared.

She wasn't Clara.

Penelope was alive.

(With no doubt a long road of recovery, but she was alive)

"One centimetre over and it would have torn right through her heart. Instead, she could actually walk out of here in a couple of days, and I'd say that's a minor miracle."

Derek found himself hugging Amelia in joy.

"She needs her rest. You can see her in the morning."

They thanked him.

"Dave and I will go to the scene, I think the rest of you should be here when she wakes up." Aaron told them, "I don't care about protocol. I don't care whether we're working this officially or not. We don't touch any new cases until we find out who did this."

Yeah right! Amelia wanted to put this son of a bitch in cuffs!

She suddenly didn't feel so tired as she found herself incredibly driven to put this son of a bitch away.

Aaron started walking down the corridor in the hospital, hoping to find some form of coffee, even if it was the shitty hospital stuff - he believed any coffee was good coffee right now.

Amelia followed after him.

She didn't even know what compelled her to do so.

She wanted to talk.

She wanted to talk to someone about Clara. She wanted it off her chest. She needed it off her chest.

And she found herself needing to tell Aaron Hotchner.

Oh, this could go so wrong. So, so wrong.

He could turn his back on her.

He could get her fired.

He could do so many things that could ruin her career and she just had to hope he didn't.

She wouldn't know what she would do if he did.

Nervously, she cleared her throat. "Uh, sorry, Sir, I just wanted to talk with you."

Agent Hotchner whipped around, not expecting to see her there.

"Oh!" A shock exclaim fell from his mouth, he mentally scolded himself, "Of course, Amelia. Uh, let's find somewhere to sit?"

Forget the coffee.

Coffee wasn't important anymore.

He found them a small conference room that he was sure the hospital staff wouldn't mind him using once he flashed his badge at them.

Amelia now felt incredibly more nervous. She didn't exactly know what to say or how to bring Clara up now, it felt like quite a heat of the moment decision that she was now coming to regret as she was filled with fear that Aaron Hotchner would fire her once he learns the truth.

She was a curse. A leech. A burden. A problem.

She'll only ruin your career and kill your agents.

Amelia took a deep breath. "I don't know..."

"I don't know how to start..." she whispered.

Amelia wanted to speak. Amelia needed to speak.

She wanted to shout really. She wanted to scream.

But it all seem so far from her for some reason.

Aaron learnt forward, "Take your time, Amelia. I can wait till your ready."

Amelia never thought she'd be ready. She never imagined the day she was ready to talk about Clara.

That day had seemed so far away.

But it was here.

The moment was opening up to her.

And she was so frightened.

You've got this.

"I know I do."

Clara had not got this.

Did Amelia?

"Do you... do you remember the Milwaukee case? The guy using his son as a ruse?" She asked quietly.

The Unit Chief nodded his head, hard to forget a case like that when he couldn't even imagine doing that to Jack, "Prentiss went in alone, and got a concussion. She wouldn't stop complaining about it on the way back."

Hotchner tried to make her laugh at the memory. But, Amelia couldn't tear herself away from the moment of trying to get Emily to go in with backup.

"I didn't want her to go in alone."

He nodded his head, as that felt like all he could do, "I remember."

"I was scared." Amelia admitted, laying her hands flat on the table as if to stop herself from tapping them on her thigh and picking at her polish. "I was so scared."

He wanted to ask why, but he knew this had to go at Amelia's pace.

"Because..." Clara. "Because I let someone go in alone, without backup, and they..."

Clara.

Not they.

She took a deep breath, she felt a headache forming from the tears she refused to cry. "Clara. Clara Beaumont. She was under my wing in Seattle." A thought crossed her mind, causing her to sniffle, "She was a lot like Derek, she was our jokester: pulling pranks, kicking the back of your chair and all that."

"But, she was my best friend."

Oh. The Unit Chief had a name now. And he could piece it together for himself from the files he'd read from now on. But, Amelia wanted to talk to him about it.

She didn't want him to interrupt and input the information himself.

She wanted to talk.

And she wanted him to listen.

She needed him to listen.

"She stood by my side and opened me up to the unit I was in. She was really something."

"Our Unit Chief was something else, he didn't trust any of the other agents as much as he trusted me so I always ended up with the negotiations. It was so tiring but I never questioned it because I was saving people and that was more rewarding than the sleep I missed out on." She had never admitted that out loud, not even to Clara.

"Clara always told me that I'd fall asleep, standing up, in a negotiation one day. But, she never let it get it to that. She got everyone in the unit to write complaints about the Chief, me included. Each complaint showed complete support for me, even though I'd taken countless opportunities from my co-workers, Clara had made them support me."

Aaron didn't believe that had been all Clara. Something about Amelia must've gotten her their support.

He didn't believe for a second that she had willingly taken these opportunities from them, Amelia probably hadn't even realized until Clara had brought it up one day.

(Amelia hadn't. Clara had been the eye opener)

"James Conrad got a shouting at and I got promised, by the Section Chief, that the other agents would be trusted with a workload and that mine would be at a lower level in the coming weeks." This was the easy part. You still have to tell him how you didn't fight hard enough.

You still have to tell him how you get your chief fired.

You still have to tell him you killed your friend.

"There was a bank robbery, 45 hostages and one already shot with four gunmen." She recalled, Amelia doubted she'd ever be able to forget it. "It wasn't going to be easy with four gunmen and a suicide bomber looking for their name in the newspapers. But it was manageable, as long as James sent in the right agent."

"He should've sent Harper, or Chris." Amelia squeezed her eyes shut, "But he sent Clara."

He let her talk.

And Aaron Hotchner didn't stop listening.

"He sent Clara." There was a different tone in her voice, one that made his own heart burn. Was it sadness? Was it anger?

Was it grief?

"She hadn't done a solo negotiation, she hadn't even led one with me as her back-up. Clara had only been outside, listening in." Amelia's fingers began to tap rapidly against the wood of the table, "And I tried to tell him, I really did. But I didn't try hard enough."

"And he still sent her in with no backup."

I didn't try hard enough.

Aaron doubted he'd ever forget the way her voice quivered with every word.

"She was so nervous, and she was all alone."

A dark chuckle fell from her lips, "She was in a building with a suicide bomber, four gunmen and 45 hostages but she was all alone."

"She died in that building, with none of us around her." Her chest felt constricted and her head now banged as an effect from the tears she refused to release. "She died in there because I didn't fight hard enough for her."

I listened to her heavy breathing.

I listened to the quiver in her voice.

I fought to be in there with her, but it wasn't enough.

Aaron Hotchner had read the manuscripts of recordings from that day.

Amelia had fought.

She had fought to be in that building with her friend, she had fought to the point her Unit Chief snapped and Amelia did too.

She had tried to go in there against her Chief's wishes.

Didn't she realize that was fighting?

She fought for Clara up until the last moment.

Amelia fought more than hard enough.

But Aaron could see the guilt laced within every single word of Amelia's, it was hard to miss. He wanted to tell her it had been enough, that Amelia had told her Chief every bit of correct information and it had been Conrad James who neglected his own agent's safety.

It hadn't been Amelia's fault.

It was only Conrad James' fault.

"And he tried to blame me." Aaron knew that. He couldn't believe it when he'd seen it.

CONRAD JAMES PASSES BLAME TO AGENT IN HIS OWN DEPARTMENT. Had been the headline in the newspaper that week. The agent had been unnamed, but now Aaron knew which agent.

His agent.

And to this day, he still couldn't believe that someone could try and pass the blame onto their own employee.

And let alone the employee be Amelia Levine.

"And, maybe, he was right." It was a meek admittance, as if she wasn't sure how he'd react.

He didn't really know how.

Aaron just knew he disagreed.

"I don't agree." He voiced, speaking for the first time since she'd started talking.

"You should," Amelia told him, "I'm a curse, Sir. Can't you see? Nothing good has happened since I joined this unit, I've just ruined lives."

Was this Conrad James' impact talking or Thomas Levine?

She rubbed at her eyes.

"Anna kills Tubbs and herself, you get suspended, Jason leaves, Stanley kills himself, my parents come to visit, Penelope gets shot." She paused and pointed at herself, "Can't you see? I'm a curse. I'm the problem."

"I got Clara killed, I got James fired. That was me."

Aaron looked up at her, "Why do you blame yourself?"

Amelia's eyebrows furrowed, "What?"

"Why do you blame yourself? Did you tell yourself you were to blame for all these events that happened, most of which you actually had no part in, or did someone else blame you?"

No.

It was me.

It was all me.

I blame myself, don't I?

Or did Conrad James blame me? (Because he hated me)

Did Thomas Levine sit in a car and blame me? (Because he hated my job)

"That's not relevant—"

Aaron seemed surprised, "It is, Amelia. Believe me, it is. People have been telling you it was your fault. And they are wrong. They have manipulated you."

No.

No.

No.

"Your Unit Chief overworked you, because he had a preference - something you couldn't control. So, he had to send in another agent. And he chose his least experienced agent so that he could try and gain some sympathy when it inevitably went wrong and he was going to use you as a scapegoat because you were quiet, you were a pleasure, and he expected you and the rest of the unit to conform to what he wanted."

No.

No.

"He tried to use you, but it failed. Because your heart, and your kindness made people support you. He didn't expect that. He underestimated you and your smile, Amelia."

"You did not kill Clara, he did. He lost his job because he was idiotic, James did that to himself. You see? You were apart of these events but you did not cause them." He was wrong, Amelia.

Why did that sound like her father?

"It wasn't you, and you shouldn't have to carry the burden of other people's mistakes."

Burden. Other people's burdens. No. Wasn't Amelia the burden?

No. She wasn't.

"Anna killed herself and Tubbs because I sent the wrong agents in in that situation, I sent in two agents with their guns blazing. That was me. I took the fall for Gideon's actions and got suspended - that was all me." He looked hopefully at her, "It wasn't you."

"Emily got a concussion because she believed she didn't need backup, she was wrong. Not you."

"Stanley, I hate to admit it," he sighed, "Stanley was tough, and I sent you in there with very slim chances of getting him down from that edge but you know why I sent you?" She shook her head, "Because I knew that if anyone could get him to even just think about not jumping, it would be you."

"And you nearly had him. No-one else would've been able to do that, Amelia."

Nearly wasn't good enough. But, she'd been close.

Couldn't that be good enough just this once?

"And your parents..." He was trying everything to not badmouth them, "it's best if I don't say anything about them."

"They made things a lot more difficult for you, Amelia. They beat you down within the space of three days and beat you back into your shell." Aaron prayed that it wasn't literal. "You didn't deserve that. You never deserve that."

"And Penelope? A botched robbery. Were you the one holding the gun?"

Amelia shook her head.

"No. So, how could you be to blame for Penelope's shooting?"

She didn't answer.

Aaron seized his chance, "Because someone has made you think that everything that goes wrong is your fault. They have twisted the facts and filled your head with lies."

"None of this has ever been your fault, Amelia."

"And whoever made you think this way, is someone you have to avoid because I refuse to let them let you think this way."

That's hard when it's your father and it's been integrated into you from a young age.

"It's not that easy." She whispered.

Aaron knew.

He'd known from a young age. He'd known from ages five and up what it felt like to be the scapegoat, to be the one who was the problem.

It had taken him a long time to stop thinking that way.

But, he wasn't a problem. Not now. Not ever. (Granted he made mistakes and was certainly the problem in his marriage but those were different circumstances, those were circumstances that he knew when he was in the wrong. Not when he'd been an innocent child being blamed for things he hadn't even heard of)

"I know."

Her head snapped up to meet his eyes. He kept doing that. He kept saying 'I know' and he never elaborated.

"And I know that you aren't the problem that you think you are. That these events just happened around you, and there was nothing you could've done to stop them."

"Some things we just can't stop." He shrugged, "But we can't blame ourselves for not being able to stop them or else we'll get nowhere in life."

Did I do it?

Did I kill Clara? Did I get James fired? Did I get Anna killed? Did I make Jason leave? Did I give Emily her concussion? Did I kill Stanley? Did I get Penelope shot?

No.

(To all of the above)

She wasn't perfect. And Amelia had made mistakes. She knew that.

We all made mistakes.

But it's what we do afterwards that fixes the mistake.

Amelia had failed to notice her Unit Chief's clear favoritism to her, that had been a mistake, and she had stood side by side with the rest of her co-workers as they filed complaints.

She could've ignored their wishes to work more and kept all the negotiations for herself and continued the cycle of favoritism.

But she didn't.

Amelia saw the favoritism for what it was.

And she didn't like it.

So, she tried to fix it with the help of others.

No. You didn't it Amelia.

"You didn't do it. It was never your fault."

Amelia looked up at him with tears in her eyes. "Do you mean that?" (The Unit Chief trust issues still continue!)

He nodded, "I do."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Hotch."

She hummed in confusion, "Hotch?"

"Please, call me Hotch. 'Sir' makes me feel old."

"You don't look a day over fifty."

Amelia covered her mouth the second the joke fell from her lips. She was so going to get fired.

Oh, my goodness.

No.

Why did you say that Amelia? Are you crazy!

(Don't answer that...)

Hotch laughed.

Amelia wished she would've recorded the sound.

"You're lucky I like you, Amelia."

She tilted her head to the side, "Everyone does, Hotch."

Aaron felt like he'd never get tired of hearing the nickname fall from her lips.

And he hoped he'd be the one to remind her that not all bad things were her fault.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
i got carried away, this is 9k words

wrote the season 3 finale the other day...

im gnawing at the bars of my enclosure guys it's my fave chapter and we made so much progress i can't wait to get to it

😝😝😝😝

and how topical is this video i saw this morning, like this is CLARA.

and i need to know what is the general consensus on first person pov? i was thinking for a really important chapter it should be first person but i just don't know if that would go down well with you guys 😭