╭──╯ . . . . . VIOLENT DELIGHTS ܴೈ

✧.* ONEERTAXEA . . . . . ╰──╮

july 21st, 2010

moments pass, my vision is still cloudy as another pair of headlights shine directly in my face. for a second, i think it's schrader and his partner coming back to finish me off. i try to move, but my limbs feel heavy, my head throbbing so hard it makes me nauseous. the lights are too bright to see who it is, but then the door flies open, and i hear his voice.

"madelyn," hotch says, urgency threading through his usually steady tone. he's crouching beside me in an instant, his hand hovering near my shoulder but not touching, like he's unsure if he should. "what happened? are you alright?"

"he's dead," i manage, my breath uneven. "schrader killed him." hotch's eyes flick to the overturned car, then back to me. "where did he go?" "he's gone." i try to steady my breathing, to push through the haze. "it was a truck—new york plates, va73078. they went northbound, ten minutes ago." hotch nods once, absorbing the information. still, his focus shifts back to me quickly. "madelyn, look at me." his voice is calm but firm, pulling me in. i blink at him, barely registering the gravel digging into my legs or the blood coating my skin.

"take a breath." he says. i do as he says, though it's shaky and my chest aches with the effort. "hotch, he has a partner." i push through the dizziness. "okay. we'll talk about that later," he says, and it's not dismissive—it's controlled. logical. "you need to see a doctor." "no, i..." i shake my head, immediately regretting it when the pain spikes. "i'm alright." he doesn't argue. not outright. he just studies me, assessing, weighing what he already knows. "can you stand?"

i nod, but when he helps me up, his hand firm against my waist, i stumble. my body feels disconnected from my mind, sluggish and heavy. if someone came at me right now, i wouldn't even be able to fight back. the realization gnaws at me as hotch steadies me without hesitation, his grip unwavering.

the drive to the hospital is a blur, my mind slipping in and out of focus, and before i know it, i'm being wheeled into the er, an ice pack pressed against my temple.

"hotch—we have to find schrader." i argue, irritated that we're wasting time. "the team's got it covered." he answers, walking beside the gurney, his pace measured, deliberate. i prop myself up on my elbows, the ice pack cold against my skin. "don't make me stay here. i'm fine, honestly." "madelyn, you can't even focus. you have a concussion." his voice is calm but unwavering, the finality in it clear. "i saw the guy," i insist. "white, 40s—"

"i know." hotch nods, his expression unreadable. "okay, so give me a cognitive." i reply. "your adrenaline is still high." he counters. "exactly." i say, trying to push forward, but hotch remains frustratingly steady. "madelyn, you're in shock." he says. "it just happened—it'll never be clearer." i argue back. "how many shots did you fire?" he asks. 

"three." i say immediately. hotch's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. "you emptied your clip." i frown. "no, i—i did?" i start, but then hesitate. the memory is suddenly fuzzy, slipping through my grasp. i press my lips together, frustrated. hotch exhales through his nose, watching me closely.  "we'll talk when the doctor clears you." he says finally, his tone leaving no room for argument. i sigh, frustrated but too drained to fight him on it. he doesn't look away from me as the nurses move in, his presence steady, unmoving. even when i stop looking at him, i can still feel him there.

moments pass as the nurses poke and prod, wrapping and stitching my cuts, running scans, drawing blood. i insist i'm fine—that i have a job to do—but hotch tells them not to let me leave until he's back. i assume he's gone to talk to jenny and her mother as the nurses tend to them too.

a male nurse helps me into a wheelchair, despite my protests, and wheels me down the hall. i feel embarrassed by the unnecessary fuss. then hotch steps around the corner, pulling out his badge. "i can take her from here." his voice is calm, authoritative. the nurse nods, handing me off. "i can walk." i try to push myself up. "sit." hotch's tone leaves no room for argument. i sigh. "you just like pushing me around." i joke, though the small laugh sends a sharp pain through my ribs.

hotch doesn't crack a smile. "does it hurt?" "if by 'it' you mean my entire body, then yes." the hospital lights are too bright, making my head pound even worse. he doesn't respond, just continues wheeling me toward the exit, his silence as steady as his presence. "did jenny see anything?" i ask, ripping off the hospital bracelet they stuck on me. "she didn't." hotch's voice is measured, unreadable. "what the hell?" i sigh.

"local police found a truck ditched a few miles from the crash site. the plates were missing, but the front end definitely hit your car." he adds and i nod slightly, relief flickering through me. at least they found something. "okay, so the partner saw everything in the woods, ran, and stole a truck. who is this guy?"

"he knew you were taking that road back to the station. he waited and then crashed into you." hotch's voice tightens slightly. "this was meticulous." "he needs the partner for something," i murmur. "schrader was locked up all this time. he planned every move. he should've had backup plans for his backup plans."

"his ex-wife wasn't supposed to be home for hours—he had time to get across the border with jenny." hotch's eyes stay forward, his mind already running through every possibility. "but he didn't. he stayed local, in that cabin. he had what he wanted. he could've run." i answer. "there must be something else keeping him in lockport." hotch says.  i swallow hard, my voice lower now. "i couldn't stop him from choking that officer." the guilt gnaws at me. "madelyn, don't do that." hotch's tone is sharper now. "but he was right there." i shake my head, frustrated with myself.

july 22nd, 2010

the ride back to the department is quiet. neither of us speaks. hotch doesn't hover like the others would, doesn't flood the silence with reassurances. he just exists beside me, steady, unwavering. when we pull up, he gets out first, coming around to my side and opening the door just as i do. he holds it open anyway. as we walk inside, he stays close, not quite touching, but just near enough in case my balance gives out.

inside, the department is mostly empty, save for our team and a few detectives. the clock ticks past midnight. "hey." rossi says, spotting me. "how are you?" jj asks, and the way they look at me—like i'm some kind of sob story—makes my skin crawl. "feel like i got hit by a truck." i lightly chuckle but no one chuckles along. hotch pulls out a chair. "sit." i roll my eyes but don't argue, sinking into the chair as emily puts garcia on speaker. "tell everyone what you just told me." emily says, holding out the phone.

garcia's voice comes through, bright despite the late hour. "i have unearthed more of schrader's past. now, what we do know is that he robbed fifteen banks in new york in the '90s, but what your resident glamourpuss smarty-pants just found out is that most of that money was never recovered." "where is it?" reid asks. "my best guess? only he knows." garcia's keyboard clicks through the line. "good reason to stick around lockport." rossi muses.

"the last robbery—the one that put him away—should've been routine, right? so what happened?" jj asks. "maybe someone turned him in." morgan suggests. "he kept to himself, always worked alone. who would've turned him in?" garcia counters. "we're missing someone." i hum. hotch, standing just behind my chair, speaks up. "garcia."

"yes, checking, sir." a moment of silence, then the sound of more keys clicking. "okay, records leading up to schrader's arrest show another bank robber—dan otey. he was looking at serious time, then he struck a deal and boom, schrader gets arrested." "it can't be a coincidence." rossi says. "criminals buy jobs off each other all the time. maybe schrader did, but otey sold him out for a lighter sentence." reid theorizes.

"doesn't make sense." i shake my head. "otey was a rat. now he's a partner?" "yeah, you're right. schrader wouldn't trust him. if anything, he'd want him dead." reid frowns. "probably use him first," morgan suggests. "tell otey he owes him. might save his life if he helps schrader out of this jam." "where is he now?" hotch asks. "uh—dan otey is local. lives off route seven." garcia stammers.  "jj, reid, go check it out." hotch orders.

it doesn't take long before the call comes in. otey is dead—multiple gunshot wounds to the chest. his wife and son were home. emily calls in. "otey's wife says the partner was practically a stranger to schrader. he separated from him, then took the wife and kid upstairs, locked them away." i exhale, my head pounding. this isn't over till we catch this son of a bitch.

_______________︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶_______________

author's note

i am SO sick, i have no idea whats up. LOL. anyway hotch and maddy 🔜 ❓

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