❝What's done cannot be undone.❞

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

✩

2.0 : forgive me, for i have sinned

(tw: mentions of SA, suicide)

TIME SEEMS TO MOVE SLOWLY WHEN YOU'RE READY FOR THE DAY TO BE OVER. Fin glances at her watch after what seems like an hour, but only ten minutes have passed each time. The reinstatement and suspension paperwork only came through the week before, and everyone, including Fin, is extremely behind on actual case paperwork. But that's not why Fin wants the day to be over.

She's waiting for everyone to leave, so that she can fulfill her promise to Hotch and relay the new information about Esther. She'd do it now, but she's on the clock, and it would look highly suspicious for her to go and sit in Hotch's office for an hour in front of everyone.

Rossi leaves first, blowing sarcastic kisses to everyone on his way out; Morgan is next; then JJ, yawning widely, phone held to her ear as she tells Will she'd rather have Chinese than Indian; and finally Emily, shoving several files into her bag and giving Fin a tired smile as she passes. Ever since her reinstatement to the team, she's been staying later than almost anyone (aside from Hotch, of course) and even taking paperwork home. Fin understands her mindset: she's compensating for the five months she participated in a lie that hurt everyone in the office, and proving that she's still capable of top-notch work.

Spencer blatantly ignores her murmur of "Good night" when she passes by his desk, and although an expression of hurt crosses her face, Emily quickly masks it before she reaches the bullpen doors. He's still angry, and rightly so. But it's getting better.

Fin signs the last sheet of paper with a flourish and closes the file, sighing as she drops it on top of the massive stack to her left. "I think that's enough for today. You finished, Spence?"

He nods, chewing on his pencil absentmindedly. "I think so. I could get a headstart on next week–"

"Absolutely not." Fin stands up and walks over to his desk, perching on the edge and looking down at him with a frown. "See, I had Thai in mind for tonight, and you're not spoiling it with more paperwork."

"I thought you were–" Spencer glances around conspiratorially, then lowers his voice, despite the two of them being the last in the office– "talking to Hotch about Esther tonight."

"I am." Fin nods. "But I'm gonna do my best to keep it short. Do–do you wanna come with me?"

Spencer stands up, pushing his chair back, and moves so he's standing between her legs, hands resting on her knees. They're a safe distance apart, but close enough that butterflies flutter in Fin's stomach at his touch. "You'd want me in there?"

"I'm tired of doing this alone," Fin murmurs, reaching up and brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. "I told you, I need you here."

"As long as you're okay with it." Spencer searches her face carefully, his long dark lashes nearly brushing his cheeks, eyes serious and dark.

So they go together, hand in hand, up the stairs to Hotch's office. Fin feels at sea tonight, unstable, movable, afraid, and Spencer is her anchor, his hand grounding her to the earth, reminding her of the bond they share. Two people, stuck in an ocean of grief, battered by waves, and standing firm in spite of it.

Hotch looks up at Fin's gentle knock, and his expression softens just a little. "Come in. And shut the door behind you."

If Hotch is surprised at Spencer's presence, or at their entwined hands, he doesn't show it. He just closes the thick file on his desk, places it in a drawer on his right, and folds his hands on his desk, eyebrows knit firmly together. "Please, have a seat."

Fin and Spencer drop into the chairs opposite Hotch, and Spencer rests their hands on Fin's knee, almost as if he's anticipating the nervous bounce of her leg. Human beings must be known to be loved.

"Fin, I received an email from Senator John Cramer this morning," Hotch says, his expression unreadable. Fin's already nervous; where could this possibly go? "He's asked me to write you a formal reprimand, as he is unable to do so legally."

"A reprimand for what?" This is entirely out of the blue, and Fin's very confused.

"The senator alleges that you exhibited insolence and were discourteous during the hearing last week, and he references one moment in particular, when he asked you whether or not you stood by my decision to keep the Doyle investigation internal, and you suggested that he and the Bureau both–and I'm quoting– 'kiss my ass'."

Spencer makes a noise halfway between a snicker and a hiccup, covering his mouth quickly with his hand.

"To be fair, sir, I prefaced that with the word 'respectfully'," Fin says, unable to resist her grin. She'd forgotten about that; now she remembers Cramer's face, and it was pretty damn hilarious. "But I stand by what I said."

Hotch glances at his watch. "It's 6:15. We're off the clock, so now I can say that... Well, I stand by that, too." And he grins back just a little. Fin feels warmer inside.

"But that's not the reason we're here." Hotch's expression returns immediately to business. He glances at Spencer. "Reid, if you're part of this–"

"He is," Fin replies quickly.

"Then I need you to know that the investigation into Esther Hayward is entirely confidential. There are less than a dozen people across the world who know about this, and Fin's ties to her, and I'd like it to stay that way for now. This wouldn't be the first time the BAU has investigated something personal, but the publicity we'd get might make Esther do something irrational that we're not ready for. So anything said in this office must be kept here, am I clear?"

Spencer nods, squeezing Fin's hand gently. His leg presses against hers beneath the desk, out of Hotch's sight. The knot in her stomach unwinds just a little.

Hotch looks over at Fin and gestures to her. "Go ahead. Fill me in."

Fin takes a deep breath. In for four, out for four... And she begins. "Do you remember when we visited the safe house with Ethan, and I said that something must have changed to alter her victimology while she was in prison?"

Hotch nods. "Yes."

"Well, I spent a lot of time with Blair and her tech team in D.C., and we managed to get into all of her files in both Central Mississippi Correctional Facility and Delta Correctional Facility. She was transferred to Delta six years ago because of a sexual assault case that happened in her cell block. The victim was Riley Yarbrough, a nineteen-year-old girl convicted for prostitution, and her attacker was a guy who–who looked a lot like my dad, actually. He was serving a year for harassment and stalking, and–That part doesn't matter, honestly.

"The point is that Esther knew Riley, and–and a month later, Riley committed suicide." Fin takes a deep breath, her heartbeat beginning to pound in her ears. Every time she thinks about this, the world begins to spin. Spencer presses his knee against hers gently. "After that, she started writing letters."

"What letters?" Hotch asks, frowning.

Before Fin can reach into her bag, Spencer already has the file in hand, passing it to Hotch across the desk. She squeezes his hand gratefully. "These are photocopies of her earliest letters. Blair was able to get them from the warden this last week. She wrote them to my sister and I, but we had already been in witness protection, and since she used our old names and addresses, they were just returned to the prison."

"These only go through July 2006." Hotch flips through the file slowly, his eyes scanning the pages carefully, painstakingly.

"The warden believes she took the rest with her," Fin replies. "They found these under her mattress after she was paroled."

"'I was the one who found poor Riley Jean,'" Hotch reads quietly, pulling a letter out from the file. "'Every time I close my eyes, I see her face. And then her face turns into yours. And then into Clara's. And I think of how I abandoned you when you needed me most. Forgive me, for I have sinned against you.'"

He pulls out another letter, further toward the back of the file. "'My next parole hearing is in one week. I hope to convince them that I'm worthy of a second chance. Worthy of their mercy.'"

Fin inhales sharply at the word "mercy". Hotch doesn't notice. Spencer does.

"'The minute I get out, I'm coming to find you," Hotch continues. "'We'll be a family again, Clara, and no one will ever be able to hurt you again. I'm going to be the mother I should have been. I'm going to right every wrong. I'm going to protect you.'"

"They're...pretty much all the same," Fin mutters. She picks at a fingernail on her free hand absently. Wishes she were wearing a sweater. It's cold in Hotch's office.

"So Riley Yarbrough's death is her stressor?" asks Hotch, finally looking up from the file.

"I think so." Fin nods. "The warden was able to find the search history from her allotted computer time. She and another inmate, a Doris Lindberg who was in for cyber crimes, were able to hack the computers so that they could access the Internet. They found me on Lars' Facebook page. She posted about my graduation from the Academy. If we catch Esther, Doris Lindberg's sentence will be extended for accessory to murder, harassment, and stalking."

"So once she was paroled, she moved to Virginia and found you," Hotch says slowly, clearly processing. "So Nick's murder was purely by chance?"

"I don't think she really knew who he was. He was just an obstacle between her and Lars. He was a threat." Fin pauses before saying like the BAU.

Both Hotch and Spencer can guess from her expression.

"When–when can we tell the team?" Spencer asks, speaking for the first time, his voice slightly unsteady.

"Not yet," Hotch says, at the same time that Fin says, "Soon." They glance at each other, and Hotch raises his eyebrows questioningly.

"There's...so much going on right now," Fin continues quietly. "We've been through a lot the past few months, and I don't want to drop an unnecessary bomb on them right now. But soon, I promise. When the time is right, I'll greenlight it."

"Okay." Hotch nods. "I trust your judgment."

Fin feels something warm blossom in her stomach. Hotch trusts her judgment. That's kind of a big deal, at least to her.

They leave Hotch's office, and Fin pauses at her desk, glancing over at Emily's empty chair. She aches for things to go back to the way they were, with no anger, no resentment, no grief. But people change, and things happen, and nothing can ever stay the same as it was.

Fin is not the woman she was a year ago.

She is better.

She hopes Emily will be, too.

~

ugh i can't wait until this all comes to a head. i love writing original cases.