╭──╯ . . . . . VIOLENT DELIGHTS ܴೈ

✧.* ONEERTAXEA . . . . . ╰──╮

october 28th, 2009

we continue the briefing on the jet, the conversation tense as we dissect the unsub's motivations. the pain is his driving force; it empowers him. with his attacks focused around halloween, we start to piece together that he's likely connected to emergency services—cops, paramedics, and firefighters. ironically, these are the very people who would normally be on our side. hotch and i are assigned to meet with the medical examiner, hoping to learn more about the last victim.

as we arrive at the hospital, the me leads us through a series of dark, winding hallways until we reach the morgue. she pushes open the heavy door, and the acrid smell of burnt flesh fills the air. "i hope you have a strong stomach." she says, her tone both casual and grim as she pulls back the sheet to reveal the victim's charred face. "gasoline was the accelerant?" hotch asks, his voice steady.

"gas vapors pooled in a low, enclosed space," she explains, her gaze fixed on the blackened remains. "when ignited, they burned down to the bone. we call this a fourth-degree burn." she gestures to the x-rays displayed on a nearby screen, and i notice a fracture along the back of the skull.

"this fracture—was it postmortem?" i ask, looking closer. she shakes her head. "no, antemortem bruising. he was struck from behind." "a blitz attack." hotch notes, and i add, "he didn't want them looking at him." i spot a piece of singed fabric fused to the victim's cheek and point it out. "what's this?" "charred fabric," the me replies. "the original garment burned away, leaving behind these fragments." i look over at hotch, a thought forming. "he's covering their faces before he sets the fire. he wants to see them suffer but can't face them while he does it."

hotch nods, and his eyes narrow. "it's an execution. there's no remorse." we thank the me, then head back to the suv. hotch immediately dials the team, asking everyone to regroup at the field office. as we gather around the table, morgan and prentiss share their observations from the crime scene. "because the area's so remote, our unsub has a clear window to set his fires," morgan says, arms crossed. "he may even have a police scanner to time his exits."

"the first victim often reveals the most about the unsub's mindset," reid adds, shuffling through pages. "tommy proctor was a career criminal. his murder was different—buried deep, hidden." "they knew each other," hotch muses. "the unsub tried repeatedly to burn proctor, probably not realizing how hard it is to destroy a body this way." "or it's overkill," prentiss interjects. "he wanted proctor to suffer." rossi nods. "it's likely he knew all his victims. we just need to find the connection."

october 29th, 2009

hotch dispatches rossi and emily to speak with tony torrell's wife, kiersten, and they return later with a description: a black male, around 25, with severe facial scarring, missing one ear. as we discuss the profile, garcia cross-references our data, narrowing down a few potential suspects and finding one name: kamen scott. he was once close with tommy proctor, sharing a history that includes a car accident years ago, one that left kamen severely scarred. tommy was the driver who walked away, leaving kamen's life in ruins.

as garcia shares kamen's address, we mobilize, sending out units to secure his property, but it's empty. then we get the call: another fire, another victim found burned. as we regroup, prentiss suggests that kamen's ex-girlfriend, tracy, might be his next target. we rush to the restaurant where she works, and as we pull up, flames are already climbing the walls, smoke billowing into the night sky. "we have to go in there." i say, my eyes fixed on the inferno, heart pounding.

"no, it's too dangerous," hotch replies, trying to keep his voice calm. "the fire's spreading fast; it's a gas fire. we need to contain it." i meet his gaze, feeling the urgency clawing at me. "we can't just stand here and watch. hotch, he's in there with her!" "the orders are to stay put, agent." he snaps, his tone firm.

without another word, i turn and bolt toward the building, ignoring the shouts behind me. the heat is suffocating as i navigate the smoke-filled corridors, covering my mouth with my jacket to block out the worst of it. tracy's muffled screams guide me to the back room, where i find her tied up along with two others. i grab my pocket knife, cutting through the ropes as fast as i can. tracy is bleeding from a head wound, and i hand her my jacket, helping her to her feet as we make our way outside.

we burst out into fresh air, and i collapse to my knees, coughing as paramedics descend on us. they take tracy from me, loading her onto a stretcher, while i lean on my knees, struggling to catch my breath. hotch storms over, his face a mix of anger and relief. through his anger he holds me up as i cough out the smoke.

 "what were you thinking, agent mortier?" hotch's voice was sharp as he approached, his posture rigid and his expression controlled, but his eyes betrayed his frustration. i looked up at him, my breathing still laboured. "they would've died if i hadn't gone in." i said, my voice hoarse but steady. "you disobeyed a direct order," he said, his tone hardening, each word deliberate. "this team operates on trust, and what you did today undermines that again. do you understand the position you've put us in?"

"i couldn't stand by, hotch," i replied, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "i couldn't live with myself if i'd let another family lose someone when i could've done something." he inhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. "this isn't about what you can live with. this is about the team, about the job. you don't get to make decisions like that unilaterally—not when lives, including yours, are on the line." before i could respond, a paramedic guided me toward the ambulance.

later, after tracy was stabilized and the unsub was apprehended, i found myself in the er, strapped to an oxygen mask as a nurse tended to me. my lungs still burned, but the steady flow of oxygen brought some relief. hotch appeared not long after, his presence commanding as always. he scanned the room before heading straight for me, his expression unreadable but his movements deliberate.

"you're suspended for a week, effective immediately." he said, his tone even but no less stern. i lowered the mask, frustration bubbling up. "sir, that's not fair—" "put the mask back on." he interrupted, his tone sharp enough to stop me mid-sentence. i reluctantly obeyed, the mask back in place.

"this isn't a matter of fairness, agent," he continued, his voice lowering but losing none of its intensity. "your actions today were reckless yet again. this is the second time you could have been killed, and the consequences of that don't end with you. the team relies on each other, and when one of us acts impulsively, it affects everyone. this isn't about heroics; it's about responsibility." his words hit harder than i expected, but i forced myself to nod. "i understand, sir. im sorry."

"sorry doesn't bring people back," he said, his eyes locking onto mine, his expression firm. "you're part of this team, and that comes with accountability. you need to prove that you can operate within those parameters. until then, you're on probation." i swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling in my chest. "understood, sir." "good," he said, his tone softening slightly. "did the doctor clear you to fly home?"

"yes, sir," i replied quietly. "then take the week to recover and reflect," he said, reaching out. "i'll need your badge and gun." reluctantly, i handed them over, the gesture feeling heavier than it should. hotch took them without further comment and turned to leave but paused at the door.

"we'll talk when you're ready to come back." he said, his voice measured but firm, before walking out, leaving me alone with the hum of the oxygen and the sting of his reprimand. the drive to the jet is quiet, the weight of my suspension pressing down on me. by the time we land, my exhaustion has fully set in. i finally make it home, the silence of my empty apartment greeting me. the only light is from the tv as i flop onto the air mattress in my living room, surrounded by unpacked boxes.

glancing at my watch, i see the date—october 29th, 2am. "happy birthday to me." i whisper, letting the thought fade as i drift off, somewhere between sleep and dreams.

_______________︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶_______________

author's note

of course, she is a scorpio and OF COURSE. this is also why matt loved halloween so much, he loved to celebrate her. 

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