❝God, how I ricochet between certainties and doubts.❞

SYLVIA PLATH

✩

1.5 : sleep

OR

season 6, episode 20 : hanley waters

"WHY ARE WE DOING THIS AGAIN?" Fin wraps her hands around her mug, curling her legs underneath her. Hotch's sofa is comfortable–probably too comfortable. She wonders how often he's slept on it, instead of going home.

 "The assessment's routine," Hotch replies quietly, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Is it routine for the unit chief to be the assessor?" Fin asks, and when Hotch's eyebrows narrow tellingly, she shakes her head. "Hotch, you should let a trained therapist do this."

"I'd rather it be me than someone unfamiliar."

"Someone who's not grieving," Fin corrects him. "It's unfair to you for us to give you all of our grief."

"I'm fine," Hotch says, and while this is clearly a lie, Fin knows there's no arguing with him. When he sets his mind to something, nothing, not even gravity, can sway him.

So she leans back into the couch and sips her tea. It's hot. It burns her tongue a little. "Fine. What would you like me to talk about?"

"How you're feeling," Hotch replies. "What you're feeling. How you're coping."

Fin takes a deep breath, steels herself, willing her voice to stay steady, her eyes to remain dry. "I'm okay. I'm figuring it out. Honestly, I'm used to grief. It's pretty familiar territory for me."

"That's not funny."

"I didn't mean it to be."

Hotch shifts slightly in his chair, waiting for Fin to continue. She appreciates that he doesn't have a notepad in his lap. "I mean, it hurts, but dwelling on it isn't going to change anything. We're stuck here regardless."

"So you're not thinking about her?"

"I didn't say that." Fin chuckles softly, bringing her mug up to her lips, blowing gently on her tea. "I think about her all the time. Every time the Clash comes on the radio, every time we get on the jet, every time I walk into this damn office and see her empty desk. I think about how she thought I was an intern the first time I walked in here, shopping for dresses in Atlanta, girls' night at JJ's, and every single time I knew something was wrong and I didn't say anything. I can't stop thinking about it.

"And honestly, I don't know who's worse off, because Spencer didn't see her from the time she left until the hospital, and he has no idea what he said to her last, and I got to hold her hand and watch the life drain out of her, and the last thing I said to her was 'I love you'. I'm pretty sure the last thing I said to my dad was that he needed to divorce my mom because she was beating us. So I'm getting better."

Hotch tilts his head to the side, his mouth a thin line, almost invisible. "And are you angry?"

"At who?"

"You tell me."

Fin sighs heavily. "Yes. I'm angry at myself, I'm angry at Emily, I'm angry at the paramedics and the doctors who couldn't save her, and I'm really damn angry at that son of a bitch who stabbed her with a table leg. I'd kill that bastard with my bare hands right now."

And then she realizes she's just said this. To her boss. On the record.

Hotch somehow reads her mind, the way he always does, and shakes his head. "I won't report that back to Strauss."

Fin chuckles softly. "That doesn't make me seem like I'm coping that well, does it?"

"Everyone else feels the same way."

"I'm the last one?"

Hotch nods.

Fin sips her tea. "Have you found–" She pauses, not wanting to say 'someone to replace her', and thinks hard about her words– "Have you found a profiler to fill Emily's shoes yet?"

"I've narrowed down the list," Hotch replies simply.

"Is JJ on the list?"

"Potentially."

"She's the best candidate for the job, Hotch."

"I'll take that under consideration."

There's a moment of silence, and then Fin sets her tea down on the coffee table and leans forward. "Talk to me. Tell me how you're feeling."

"That's not–"

"It wasn't a question, Hotch."

He sighs heavily. "I'm fine."

"How are you coping?"

"I run. It clears my mind."

"Are you talking to anyone?"

"You, right now."

Fin sighs, shaking her head. "Hotch–"

"I'm fine."

"None of us are fine," Fin says. "We lost a friend. I'd be more concerned if you were fine. It's okay not to be fine, Hotch. Let yourself grieve. And if you need someone to talk to you, I'm always around."

Hotch looks down at his shoes, nods slightly.

Fin clears her throat, wiping her eyes. She's impressed that she didn't break down in sobs again. That's a step in the right direction. "So...are we done?"

"Yes." Hotch looks up at her, his eyes soft. "We're finished for now. Thank you, Fin."

"Thank you, sir." Fin reaches over, squeezes his hand once, and picks up her mug on her way out of his office. She leaves the door open slightly.

The BAU is quiet after-hours, most of the lights turned off and all the desks empty. Fin checks her watch. It's a little after eight, which means most nice restaurants will be closed, and Fin's not really in the mood for fast food or takeout. She remembers there's some soup in her fridge at the safe house, and quite possibly some bread and peanut butter. Sandwiches and soup makes her think of home. It sounds nice.

On the drive to her house, Fin thinks about the case they finished up in Tampa yesterday. A woman, suffering from PTSD, on a shooting spree. Hotch talked her down, and Fin stood in front of the family she pointed her gun at. She lost her son in a car accident and went insane. She'll probably get off if she pleads insanity.

And there are five people whose deaths won't be vindicated.

Fin sighs. Sometimes she wonders why they do this job, just to put a woman through a trial she'll win. Just for five families to know that the person who ruined their lives isn't behind bars.

Just to lose someone they love and to know her killer is still out there.

She checks in with the agent at the door and once inside the house, immediately hops in the shower, the steam fogging up the bathroom mirror and clouding her thoughts, forcing everything negative out of her system.

Clad in only an oversized and extremely faded Radiohead t-shirt and a pair of panda socks, Fin pads into the kitchen and pours the soup into a saucepan, humming Amy Winehouse as the sky fades from deep blue to black outside.

As the soup warms up on the stove, Fin makes herself a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich and thinks about whether she wants to watch Seinfeld, the comfort show of choice nearly always, or try something new and watch one of the never-ending list of medical drama DVDs this house came with. It seems like an adventure she'll have to tackle one of these days.

But in the end, as always, Seinfeld wins out, and Fin's just settling in on the sofa, curled up with a blanket and her bowl of soup (the sandwich mysteriously disappeared while the soup was heating up) when the doorbell rings.

Immediately, one of the agents materializes in the hall–Romero, Fin thinks his name was–and pulls his gun out. "Are you expecting anyone?" he asks, his voice deep and booming.

"Um, no, not tonight." Fin shakes her head, frowning. The only people who know where this house is are Hotch, the six agents assigned to her rotation, and–

"Uh, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid, I work with Hazel, and I've been here before, uh–" The oh-so-familiar voice carries into the living room. Fin immediately sets her bowl down. If Spencer's showing up at her door unannounced, without even a text, then this is serious.

"Thanks, Anthony, I can take it from here." She waves off the agent, who holsters his gun, but is still eyeing Spencer warily.

"You know, the whole point of a safe house is that it's a secret," he mutters, glaring at her as if she's in possession of the nuclear codes.

"He's in on the secret." Fin rolls her eyes. "It's fine."

Reluctantly, Romero leaves the room, returning to whatever cave he apparently crawled out of, and Fin turns back to the doorway. Spencer's standing there, wearing a sweater and a pair of jeans, looking slightly disheveled, and staring at her, his eyes wide.

Fin only just now realizes she's not wearing pants.

Shit.

"Um, Spencer, those guys typically don't see me ever, and this is really unusual for me to–" She gestures to her bare legs, feeling extremely self-conscious– "you know, normally I'll wear–"

"Can I come in?" Spencer asks, his voice slightly shaky.

Fin closes her mouth, flushing bright red, and nods. Something's clearly wrong; Spencer's eyes are watery, he's blinking quickly, and his hands are shaking in his pockets.

"What's wrong?" Fin asks, pulling Spencer out of the hall and toward the kitchen. "Is everything okay?"

Spencer swallows hard, staring down at his shoes. "I, um, I just–I've been having a really hard time sleeping lately and–and tonight I couldn't stop thinking about–about everything, and I'm just so tired." His voice breaks and he sniffs loudly, scrubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, avoiding Fin's gaze.

"Oh, Spencer..." Fin stands on her tiptoes and wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him down into a tight hug, running her fingers through his hair, and Spencer collapses against her, going limp in her arms. His shoulders shake beneath her fingers, and his sobs are muffled in her t-shirt. Fin hides her own tears in his sweater.

After a moment, Spencer pulls away, resting his forehead on Fin's, his breath shaky. "I thought talking about it with Hotch would help, but it just made everything worse. The–the little voice in my head, telling me it's my fault, that I should've kept her safe."

"We both know that's not true," Fin whispers, cupping his face in her hands, keeping him close to her. They break more and more of her rules each time they're together, but she can't stay away from him.

"And–and if I couldn't keep Emily safe, how do I know that I can keep you safe?" Spencer says, another tear escaping and making its way down his cheek. "How do I know that Esther won't get to you the way Doyle got to her?"

"Because I won't lie to you."

"You did once," he whispers.

Fin sucks in a breath.

"'Accidentally fell asleep on the couch. Just gonna stay here tonight, so don't wait up.'" Spencer quotes Fin's last text to him perfectly, and Fin feels a little piece of her heart crumble. She never thought about the fact that he'd remember it forever. "'We can't be together. You deserve to find someone who brings you joy and hope and comfort, and I am none of those things.'"

"Spencer, I said that because I was trying to protect you," Fin replies, swallowing hard past the lump in her throat. "I didn't know if I'd ever come back, and I wanted you to be happy knowing that I did everything to keep you safe."

"I could never be happy not knowing where you were," Spencer says, shaking his head and sniffling softly. "I'd rather you stay and be in danger than be apart from you, knowing you're alone and afraid. Please don't push me away again. Please, Hazel."

And in this moment, staring into his beautiful brown eyes, holding his face in her hands, Fin can't say no. So she nods. "Okay. I won't. I promise."

Spencer's shoulders drop in relief and he sighs, resting his hands on her hips gently and pulling her closer. "Okay."

"Come here." Fin closes the distance between them, pressing her lips to his softly. He tastes of coffee and tears and his hands are warm against her back, and when she pulls away, his eyes aren't watery anymore. (But hers are.)

She brushes a strand of hair away from his face. "How long has it been since you slept?"

"Two days," Spencer mutters, staring down at his shoes. "And when I do sleep, I have nightmares. But I don't when–when I'm with you. That's why I came over. Can–can I stay?"

Wordlessly, Fin takes his hand and leads him down the hall to the bedroom. He left a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt in the closet, just for nights like these, and Fin closes the curtains and brushes her teeth while he changes clothes. That soup wasn't amazing, and after tonight, she's not hungry anyway.

Spencer climbs into bed next to her and she pulls him into her arms, his face pressed against her neck, her hand in his hair. "Good night, my love," Fin whispers, kissing the top of his head.

"I love you," Spencer murmurs against her throat, pressing a lingering kiss to the hollow of her collarbone. His hands find the edge of her t-shirt and tug it up, exposing her bare legs and underwear, and Fin holds her breath out of habit–

But Spencer just traces the waistline of her underwear with his fingers, not sexually at all, but rather intimately, gently, carefully, as though he's painting something beautiful on her stomach. Fin closes her eyes, sighing into his hair. It's moments like these that make her question her rules, her boundaries. That make her wonder why she ever left.

And then Spencer's hand goes slack and his breathing slows, and his arm drapes lazily over her waist, and Fin stays completely still, not wanting to wake him.

He worries about keeping her safe, about protecting her, but Fin only truly feels safe when she's with him, touching him this way. Nothing can ever happen in these moments. The universe is not that cruel.

Fin wants to stay like this forever.

So she closes her eyes and lets the darkness envelop her, welcoming dreams of forever with open arms.

~

spin making me feel single rn ;-; 

i really wanted to focus on non-sexual intimacy this chapter, because i feel like it's unrealistic for two people who struggle with intimacy (fin because of nick, spencer because he can't do touch) to just bang out their issues, and a lot of writers will use sex as a coping mechanism, which is not healthy at all. i wanted fin and spencer to really fall in love and be intimate with each other without having sex to illustrate that it's not everything to a relationship, especially when one or more people have past trauma or struggle with intimacy in general. and while it's really tempting to just have your characters go at it for a chapter or two (not for me, that makes me uncomfy), it's more of a challenge to focus on their emotional growth as people.

and even if you don't have trauma related to sex, i think learning to value the other person as more than a body or an object of attraction is really important before physical intimacy. sex releases oxytocin into the brain, which fires neurons that we associate with falling in love, and when you "fall in love" with someone you barely know, it can cause issues further in the relationship, when you realize maybe you don't like them as much anymore. nick and fin were a prime example of that, and i'd like to think that maybe fin took it upon herself to wait with spencer, because she didn't want it to end up the same way. 

so if you find yourself in a relationship with someone who wants to wait on anything physical until they know you better, respect! their! boundaries! don't force them to do anything they're not comfortable with. be cool like spencer <3

anyway, rant over lmao enjoy this extra-ish chapter because i was moving and forgot to post it yesterday xx