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˚⋆ ┊ TWO GHOSTS ┊ ⋆˚
☆⋅⋆ ─ act i. in the place of you and me

CHAPTER FOUR — everybody's a suspect

✎

❝ monsters are real, and ghosts are real too.
they live inside us, and sometimes, they win. ❞
↳ STEPHEN KING

⠀ ⠀ HOSPITALS HAD BECOME A PLACE WITH WHICH NANCY WAS RATHER FAMILIAR. Whether she was the one in the bed, visiting somebody, questioning a victim. The bland lighting and medical terms had stopped fazing her a long time ago.

Nancy recalled as much as she could during the ride in the ambulance. Difficult as it was recalling such fresh trauma, she knew it was vital for the BAU to know exactly what had happened. Meaning she had barely any time to rest in the time it took for them to wheel her from the ambulance to a hospital bed. Adrenaline once coursing through her veins wearing down, all the blood she'd lost in putting up such a fight was beginning to catch up with her. Slipping in and out of consciousness, she still had to answer the usual series of invasive questions from doctors and cops, and agents alike.

The thing she was grateful to hear most of all, more than any lead, any new suspect, was that her brothers were alive.

Eddie was alive.

He wasn't awake, and considering her own wounds it would be rather difficult for her to be taken to see him, but at the very least she knew he was alive. That her actions hadn't led to her losing her baby brother.

It was a fucking miracle.

After an hour or so, the room was emptied, and Nancy could breathe again. Hospitals were never truly quiet. Patients complaining, doctors running, nurses aiding, machines beeping. But we're talking about a girl that grew up in the middle of Brooklyn. Where she came from, you learned to tune out the noise or you didn't sleep.

Not that Nancy could sleep that night anyway. Traumas, new and old, amalgamated into nightmarish visions every time her eyes would dare to flutter closed. She hadn't realized how much time had passed during what felt like mere minutes of trying to fall asleep until she felt a gentle warmth resting upon her cheeks. The blend of pink and orange seeped through the blinds as the rising sun became an unwelcome reminder of her lack of sleep. Accepting defeat, Nancy let out a short sigh, finally deciding to take in her surroundings.

With all the tossing and turning in the dark, failed attempts at falling asleep, Nancy hadn't noticed her best friend (who, in all honesty, had a much better excuse for being utterly traumatized than she did) curled up and fast asleep in the chair beside her bed. Careful not to rip her stitches, Nancy decided to finally follow a small piece of advice that had come from somebody other than herself.

Get cleaned up.

The nurses had done the best they could with their wipes and their towels but Nancy could still feel it.

Blood.

Not her own. Eddies. The cops this new unsub had slaughtered. Maybe even blood from the unsub himself. It stained her palms like a crimson tattoo that no soap, no water could rid her from. Fingertips scrubbed idly under steaming water as Nancy's eyes fluttered up to meet her own. She stared down her reflection as though face to face with an enemy, unsure if her mind was playing tricks or if blood splatters truly were painted across her cheeks as well.

She looked down once again to find nothing has changed. The water ran clear and yet still no blood had been washed from her hands. Panic began to set in.

Was she losing her damn mind?

Soap be damned she'd clean the marks from her hands. Thumb digging into her palm, Nancy's nail scraped between the creases in desperation. It hurt, but she didn't care. She'd stopped caring the second she set foot in that bathroom. She'd hardly been paying attention to how long she'd been in there, washing her blood-stained hands. It wasn't until a low, yet somewhat drained, voice tore her from her daydream she realized just how much damage she had done.

"Chavez!" Nancy flinched back into reality, hands still frozen under the water as her eyes darted up to meet Agent Hotchner's concerned gaze, "They're clean," confused, Nancy's eyes flickered back to her stinging palms. Steaming water had turned her palms pink but the blood that, moments ago, she feared would never be gone, had indeed washed away. The young agent's embarrassment was evident in the overly aggressive manner in which her palm slammed the faucet shut.

Loud noise waking her snoring friend, Lexi jolted upright, eyes squinting from the sunbeams blinding her, "I'm up!" Nancy couldn't help but let out a fond chuckle, watching as the embarrassed young lady brushed her hand through her tangled hair. But soon enough, the Chavez girl went back to business, an ice-like expression shot toward the sympathetic unit chief.

"I wanna see my brothers," demanded the wincing agent. Apparently, the little respect for authority she had was out the window the second whatever pain meds she'd been given had started to wear off.

"We need to talk first," Hotch insisted, eyes following Nancy from the bathroom as she began searching, with little caution for her stitches, for the clean clothes she'd been promised, "Alone," he suddenly, and rather suspiciously, added, eyes glancing from the agent to her friend still sitting innocently at the side of the bed.

Growing rather defensive at the underlying accusation, Nancy's eyes narrowed as she stood in place, "Anything you can say in front of me, you can say in front of her," Lexi's brows furrowed as she, although pleased to be defended by her friend, seemed to have an issue with her statement.

"I just wanna add that... I am aware that's not how the law works so..." Nancy whirled around to glare at her friend, silently pleading with her to stop talking, "If I've gotta leave cause, you know, FBI..." Lexi suddenly trailed off, realizing she didn't actually know the terminology, "Serial killer... mission confidentiality-"

"Whose side are you on?" Nancy interrupted with a rather confused frown.

"The... legal one?" questioned Lexi with a confused shrug. Nancy sighed, simply extending a hand toward her friend, unsure whether she would interpret it as shut up or don't move (although either would be correct). Focus back on Hotch, Nancy placed her hands on her waist, fearing that folding them would open a stitch.

"I told you everything that I can remember," continued the young agent.

"That's not what we need to talk about," the unit chief insisted, arms folded across his chest. This got Nancy's attention. She stood upright, eyes narrowed in adolescent-like disbelief, "You need to take it easy,"

Nancy rolled her eyes, "Hotch-"

"You were stabbed, Chavez," it was clear to Nancy that Aaron had hoped simply saying the words aloud would be enough to scare her into reality, "Did you sleep?" he continued to press. But the young agent was stubborn.

"Are you taking me off the case?" silence did little to reassure Nancy's accusatory question. She hadn't meant it seriously. The unit chief went out of his way to invite her, why would he so quickly send her packing? It wasn't fair, "Hotch?"

"I've considered it,"

"And?" pressed Nancy, albeit a little too aggressive for someone that may or may not be out of a job. Although, Hotch still seemed understanding.

"Not if I don't have to," words that should have been ones of reassurance only made the young agent more worried. Nancy shook her head, crossing the room toward the hospital bed though choosing simply to lean against it rather than give in and take a seat.

"Well, he's not copying anymore," sighed Nancy, "House parties are... officially back on," she joked, knowing it would be well received by the concerned unit chief.

"At least now we know why the first murders were copied," he added, watching as Nancy folded her arms across her hospital gown.

"To get me here," she finished, still yet to be concussed enough to lose her profiling skills.

"Somehow, you're the end goal," Aaron nodded.

A wry chuckle escaped the young agent's lips, eyes fixed on the ground as she pretended not to be scared, "Yippee..." Her sarcastic cheer was accompanied by the slight raise of her hand but still her coping mechanism humor was only met with an unsettled gaze, "I was right," continued Nancy, "This is about... the movie, making the best sequel. He's going for the main characters of the original. Those cops... in the hallway," thumb suddenly digging into her palm again, Nancy looked away, trying to mask her trembling voice by clearing her throat, "I don't think he meant for Eddie to survive," staring out the window ad the half-risen sun, Nancy pursed her lips, head tilted in thought as she glanced back at the unit chief, "And something else... something he asked me,"

"What?"

Nancy shrugged, mentally cursing herself for not mentioning it earlier, "I- I didn't think anything of it. It's part of the MO, right? Movie trivia?" Shrugging her shoulders, Nancy's arms folded defensively across her chest as she added, "I don't know the slash movie, I've never seen it,"

"No, you lived it," replied Hotch, backing toward the door where he leaned out to call for one of his agents, "Reid!" stumbling in such a hurry, Spencer almost tripped over his own feet, gripping the doorframe for support as she stared between Nancy and Hotch with urgency.

"Yeah?" he panted. Aaron seemed rather unphased by this, which Nancy could only assume was because this was an ordinary occurrence for the young Doctor.

Hotch turned back to the wounded agent, gesturing for her to continue, "What did he ask?"

"He asked me..." Nancy trailed off, as though double-checking with her own mind that she'd filed the memory away correctly, "Who's bedroom window the killer was staring through at the end of act 1,"

Spencer's confused expression quickly fell to one of horror, "Eddie's,"

"Are you sure?"

"He's still a target," nodded Spencer, watching as Hotch hurried from Nancy's side toward the exit. Glancing toward the surprisingly silent Lexi, Hotch decided once and for all, he was going to get her out of that room. If not to allow Nancy a moment alone, to question her once again (no matter how certain Nancy was of her friend's innocence), "Miss Sparrow, I do really need to speak with you. Alone," a rare soft smile appeared on the unit chief's face as he continued, "FBI... Serial killer... mission confidentiality..." the tone was entirely different, but he truly had repeated the words Lexi had panicked out moments ago. The two girls shared a confused look, even Reid seemed shocked, although it entirely understating the reason behind it he recognized an attempt at comedy from his unit chief.

"Did you just... make a joke?" Nancy questioned, equally perplexed and amused.

Aaron only nodded, smile having faded although still there if you squinted, "I believe so,"

Lexi stood, arms folded at her stomach as she crossed the room toward the Chave girl. Nancy smiled reassuringly, nodding toward her friend as her hand met Lexi's shoulder, "I'm alright," insisted the young agent. Once again, Aaron started on his way out but surprisingly paused at the door once. Glancing toward Reid, his eyes narrowed though second-guessing the idea of leaving the young man to babysit the girl that knew how to always get her own way,

"Keep an eye on her," he instructed with a rather astonishing, and worrying, amount of sympathy. Behind the unit chief, Nancy spotted her friend's smirk grow into a childish grin, unable to prevent herself from an all too obvious thumbs-up stamp of approval. Nancy knew just what she meant by that. Despite the fact that she had a rather vocal don't fuck your co-workers rule, Lexi had a habit of acting the same way every time Nancy found herself alone with a (if not in her own then Lexi's opinion) cute guy.

Which Spencer Reid admittedly (and unfortunately) was.

Nancy could tell with a quick glance that keeping an eye on the flight risk was just about like the last task he wanted to be assigned. With pursed lips and a sheepish smile, Spencer gave a brief nod and waved in the young agent's direction, earning a rather amused smirk as she looked him up and down with thought.

"Your friend gave me these," he decided to break the silence, crossing the room to hand the tired brunette a plastic bag containing spare clothes from her friend, "Morgan should be here with your duffle from the precinct soon,"

"Sweet," in all honesty, Nancy hadn't purposely tried to make Spencer uncomfortable. Her urgency to change her clothes, regardless of whoever was in the room, came from her need to see her brothers. Perhaps it was the concussion that made her so careless to remove her shirt in front of a coworker.

Whatever it was, Spencer, ever the respectful young man, whirled around on his heels in a heartbeat so as to not see anything further, "N- that didn't mean-"

Nancy decided this wasn't something worth teasing the young doctor about. She knew many officers and agents that would have taken the opportunity to stare and a girl in her underwear in a heartbeat. Which, if she was honest, was a pretty low bar to set when regarding respect for women, but hey who expects that from the people whose literal job is to serve and protect?

Lexi's clothes fit well enough but weren't something Nancy would have considered her style. Her friend at least remembered her preference for clothing on the colorless side, although she wasn't too sure how she felt about the way the grey shirt hugged her figure. Or the black jeans that flared over her combat boots, the only part of the outfit that actually belonged to her. Wincing in pain when she rested the end of her boot against the desk to tie her laces, Nancy realized she'd get to release the poor young man from his position staring at the wall.

"Decent!" she sang almost teasingly, although Spencer seemed less than amused when he turned back to face her. Nancy only smirked, innocently shrugging as though she had not a clue why she was on the receiving end of a bemused glare, "I need to see my brothers,"

Spencer quickly shook his head, "You should sit down,"

"No," Nancy's eyes narrowed more in amusement than anger as she watched Spencer opt for the pleading rather than authoritative approach.

"Nancy, please just... sit back down,"

The younger agent smirked, arms folded as she got to her feet, "Oh, I'm starting to want you to make me," but Reid only rolled his eyes, apparently uninterested in flirtatious workplace banter.

"The doctors said you need to rest,"

"I'm fine,"

"You were stabbed!" Nancy shook her head, crossing the room as Spencer continued, "And you're so cold you're shaking," Chavez paused, tongue poking at her cheek as she looked the poor doctor up and down thoughtfully. He seemed more stunned by her silence than anything, as though a million thoughts were running through his brain trying to calculate what she was going to say next.

"Alright, pretty boy," she began, head tilted ever so lightly to the side, "give me your jacket,"

"What?" questioned Reid in a high-pitched panic, looking down as though questioning if she actually mean the one he was wearing. Navy blue with FBI in giant bold writing, besides being a size or two too big nobody would question her new choice of coat, "No! I-"

"You'll get it back!" she insisted innocently. Spencer stared thoughtfully, and Nancy quickly recognized the look of a man cursing himself for giving in so quickly to the pretty  (bossy) girl.

But he only managed to get the windbreaker over his shoulders before being saved by his, admittedly amused, co-worker, "Reid!" Agent Morgan sauntered rather casually around the corner, head shaking in feigned disappointment. Spencer had since frozen, hands still on his jacket as his eyes shifted from Derek, to Nancy, and back again, "Put your jacket back on," tutted Morgan, "Come on, man, you don't gotta do everything she says just cause she's pretty."

"You think I'm pretty?" teased Nancy with a taunting grin, peering over her shoulder to see Morgan holding a familiar, army-green duffle bag. Joking as if he were about to toss it, Nancy tilted her head in warning, narrowed eyes doing all the talking because how the hell is she supposed to catch that she can barely lift her arms?

"Oooh," laughed the older agent, amusement melding with his annoyance as he extended the bag toward her, "That's not gonna work with me, angel face," Nancy rolled her eyes, knowing that teasing would get her nowhere. Snatching the bag with half the force she would have used had she been at full strength, Nancy placed it rather dramatically at the bedside table, ignoring the fact that she could see the exasperated look shared by the senior agents in her peripheral vision. She pulled out a now very wrinkled denim jacket that had been haphazardly shoved in her go-bag, she carefully pulled it over her shoulders, wincing as her raised arm tugged at her stitches.

"You can't stop me from leaving this room," strained the Chavez girl, grimacing through the pain as though it would help it go unnoticed.

"I'm not here to do that," even Reid looked confused at Morgan's words. Unsure if it was some kind of trick, Nancy's brows knitted, although she daren't question his decision for fear he'd change his mind, "What?" shrugged Morgan, noticing his colleague's perplexed glare, "Hotch said to keep an eye on her, not trap her in her room,"

Nancy smirked, "Your devastatingly handsome friend has a point, Einstein," Morgan's eyes narrowed teasingly, whilst Spencer remained unamused, eyes flicking to the young brunette as she brushed past him through the door.

"Easy, final girl," warned Derek with an amused grin, nudging Reid lightly in the shoulder as they followed closely behind like the over-protective bodyguards of a pop star.

─────

As they drew closer, Nancy, without any warning to the agents following her, came to an abrupt halt. The two barely had time to register what had happened, a few paces in front of her already before spinning suddenly on their heels to face her. Arms crossed defensively across her chest, Nancy took a step closer, examining their expressions closely as she desperately tried to decide in a matter of seconds whether she could trust the men who stood before her. Somehow, even after the attack, after coming face to face with Ghostface himself even after eight years of recovery and therapy she still trusted the BAU. Maybe because they had the precious seal of approval from the actual only person in the world she trusted. Aaron Hotchner had yet to give her a reason to doubt his judgment. If he trusted his agents to protect her that's what they were going to do. The same couldn't be said for the NYPD. Hell, even the doctors and nurses in the very hospital that saved their lives, "Don't trust anyone," she warned in a lowered, anxious tone, peering over her shoulder as though expecting someone to be attempting to listen in, "not even the cops outside his room," Reid and Morgan only nodded, apparently shocked to see Nancy take such a serious turn. Allowing her to take the lead once again, all three flashed their badges at the line of officers standing defensively outside her brother's hospital room, "My brother's here, okay? Edmundo Chavez," but when she peered behind them into the room, the brother sitting rather casually on the bed wasn't the one she'd expected to see, "Matt?"  the eldest Chavez looked up in relief, suddenly disinterested in whatever the doctor examining his wounded forearm had to say.

"Nance!" but still he waited for her to come to him, watching as she disregarded the officers' suspicious glares to make her way across the room and carefully wrap her arms around his shoulders.

"You were right," she sighed, hating how being in the arms of her big brother brought out her tearful inner child, "I'm so sorry, this is all my fault,"

"No," he shook his head, hand gripping her shoulder as he forced them apart to look his sister in the eye, "It's not, okay? It's not,"

"Where's Eddie?"

"In surgery," Mateo let out an anxious sigh, glancing away from his sister as though struggling to look her in the eye. Nancy had never seen her big brother so worried. Not since she was the one waking up in the hospital having barely survived a Ghostface attack. Surgery was a good sign, right? It meant the doctors knew there was a possibility for recovery.

Somehow managing to not feel awkward about coming between such a touching moment, the doctor cleared his throat, releasing Mateo's arm to firmly grip his clipboard, "You're lucky there's no nerve damage. You're gonna have to take it easy though," Nancy had hardly registered the fact that Detective Delgado had crept up behind her, his partner close behind with both men wearing distrustful glares

"Your brother and sister are banged up pretty bad," began the detective, "I'd say you're lucky to have gotten away with..." Taking a pause to look him up and down, Detective Stevens folded his arms across his chest, "A couple bruises... maybe a scratch?" suspecting tone had Nancy, "I'd say... you're lucky he didn't kill you,"

"Yeah, it's awfully convenient," added Delgado snarkily, standing almost protectively at Nancy's side though she continued to glare daggers at just the thought of her brother being a suspect.

"Excuse me?"

"I got four dead officers," argued Delgado, staring from Nancy to Mateo as he pressed, "All I'm saying is, it's... just a shame he got away so easily,"

"It's just a shame you got there too late," repeated Mateo in a mocking tone "Though I guess that is on time for a cop, right?" eyes widened, Nancy's head whipped around to direct the glare at her brother now. It was still their job to work with the local PD, even with such harsh accusations being thrown, "You think I had time... to put on a costume, stab my own brother, get out of the costume, and try to save his life?" spat Mateo, sliding from his seat on the bench where he now towered over the sneering detective, "He was in my arms, bleeding out when the mother fucker was chasing my sister!"

Detective Stevens frowned, deciding to ignore the agent and instead address true target, "Did you see them in the same room?" Nancy hadn't meant to laugh. But that was just about the dumbest question she had ever heard. Her smile was wry and humorless, fixing back into a glare as her tongue poked at her cheek, "Is that amusing to you?"

Nancy nodded, head tilted to the side as she spoke with the tone of a kindergarten teacher explaining why 1 + 1 = 2, "With all due respect, detective," the word escaped her lips like an insult, mockery in her tone, "We're trying to catch a serial killer. Not figure out if Bruce Wayne is Batman,"

Once again saved by the ringing cell all Morgan had to do was poke his head into the room, gesturing behind him with his thumb. Seemingly just as agitated by the detective's pointless questioning, he backed into the hall, nodding at the elder Chavez as he and his sister made their swift exit.

❀

⠀ ⠀ WITH FOUR HOURS OF SLEEP AND FIVE CUPS OF COFFEE under her belt, Agent Chavez insisted upon being driven back to the precinct the second she'd been cleared by the doctors. They'd gotten rather good at ignoring the reporters, with Reid and Morgan spitting out a simultaneous, "No comment," as they guided the Chavez siblings back inside. Three men determined to go back to business, Nancy once again stuck behind for a moment, hands buried in her pockets as she tried to gather her thoughts.

Although something she hadn't expected to hear that day was an overwhelming smooth southern twang interrupting the argumentative Brooklynites. Nancy smirked. He hadn't noticed her yet, but he most likely knew she was coming.

Agent Marshall Riley was only a few years older than her, but had become somewhat of a mentor. An older brother figure. Much different from her relationship with her actual brothers. Who she, no doubt, loved and appreciated more than anything in the world. But Mateo was forced to take on responsibilities much larger than any ordinary fifteen-year-old. She was used to the over-protective, forced-to-be somewhat parental kind of relationship with her big brother. So it was refreshing to be the recipient of joking and teasing from the guy from a (by Nancy's definition anyway) 'normal', happy family. And a huge one at that. From what Nancy could remember, Agent Riley was the oldest of five. With an even split of two brothers, and two sisters. And he would always joke that it was simply because... everything's bigger in Texas. His mom and dad were living the American dream, high school sweethearts with a white picket fence.

Hands on her hips, the younger agent approached her old friend as quietly as possible, trying her best to stifle her childish giggles, "Well, I'll be," her impression of his southern drawl was exaggerated and slow. Agent Riley spun on his heels at lightning speed, eyes almost as wide as his grin.

"Chavez!"

"Riley!" Nancy had missed how easily Riley would lift her off the ground as he squeezed her so tightly. But, as much as she adored the tight hug from a friend, her wounds were still fresh no matter how much she was determined to seem fine. With a light tap on the shoulder, Marshall put the young agent back on her feet.

"God, it's been..."

"Too long," agreed Nancy, almost upset for her feet to hit the ground.

"Been here two days, kid," laughed Marshall, "what are you avoiding me or something?" Nancy paused for a moment, as though considering giving a genuine answer.

"I've been busy, you know, fearing for my life and all,"

Marshall's smile dropped, "You alright?" he asked genuinely. Although he seemed, visibly, to regret asking such a question. She'd almost died mere hours ago and was the main target of a sadistic serial killer but nahhh she's fine!

Had anyone else asked, she would have simply lied or shot back some kind of sarcastic remark. But not with Riley. Not when she could tell he actually cared.

"I'll get back to you in a couple days," sighed the younger agent, glancing around the precinct as though purposely trying to avoid any kind of eye contact that a skilled profiler such as Agent Riley could read.

"Yeah..." he trailed off, deciding that, rather than pester her about the case any further, he'd simply ask her about her life before it all came crashing down, "Hey, I hear you're doin' a great job with the K9 unit,"

"Yeah, I... needed a change of scenery I think," confessed Nancy, grateful for the change of subject, "Although I must say shadowing you, even just for a case, was one of a few pre-graduate highlights for me," she complimented, earning herself a teasing nudge from the elder agent.

"Stop it, you're makin' me blush," he joked, deciding, although without actually saying, that the two should probably head up the stairs to do their jobs, "Come on, I'll walk you up," Nancy nodded gratefully, although she'd yet to move, trying her best to mask the deep breath she was taking. But of course, trying to hide anything from a profiler was futile, "You know, if you need a minute. To step back, anything-"

Nancy soon realized how her sudden silence looked and let out a nervous chuckle, "No, it's not that, I just..." she sighed, arms folded for a brief moment only to let them swing at her sides once again, "If you're around, that means Gideon is too,"

Trying to avoid Jason Gideon was not one of her best ideas. But being read like a book by the man that founded the BAU could not be lower on Nancy's wishlist. Especially since he too was there the night of the massacre.

"Ah, yes," smirked Riley, "Supervisory Special Agent Dad," Nancy's face scrunched into a rather dramatic grimace.

"Wow, never say that again," she laughed, following close behind the elder agent as they headed toward the elevators.

─────

Small talk continued through their journey upstairs, although it did little to comfort Nancy's spiraling mind. Clearly, Marshall had a need to take care of her. Like all the others on the team, he apparently felt the need to follow behind her like a lost puppy. Somehow, in the bustle of the early morning police precinct, she'd managed to lose him, deciding simply to beeline toward the breakroom, aka the only room in the place with half-decent coffee.

"Morning," greeted Nancy, sauntering rather casually toward the coffee pot. It still remained a mystery whether it was luck or misfortune that only Hotch was in the breakroom when she arrived.

"What are you doing here?" was all he asked, without returning the greeting. Nancy only turned, a deep sigh accompanying her tired stare.

"I'm working the case," she replied rather blatantly. Clearly dissatisfied with her reaction, Hotch's expression grew stern, like a teacher disciplining their student.

"Your brother is in the hospital. And you very nearly died last night,"

"But I didn't," she argued back, as though regretful of the fact, "I'm alive," coffee now poured into a cheap paper cup Nancy was too tired to care had began burning her hand, "And more people are dead," Aaron watched as she took a large sip, tongue running over her teeth, "People that don't fit the pattern, might I add," glancing behind Aaron to the ever-changing evidence board, Nancy shrugged in thought, "he's deviating,"

But Hotch didn't want to hear it, "You need to go home," A scoff escaped Nancy's exhausted lips before her mind had a chance to catch up.

"Cause it's so safe there?" with Aaron stunned into silence, Nancy finally had enough time to regret her words. He'd been through something like this before. Or rather, one of his agents had. Which he no doubt felt guilty for, but Nancy wasn't about to forget who the true victims were. First Elle Greenaway, who had since left the BAU because of such traumatic events. And now Nancy, whose mind had become so fractured that she'd simply decided to tuck the trauma of being attacked in her own home away in a little locked box in her brain. Of course, the healthy thing to do.

"I'm not safe anywhere until this motherfucker is behind bars or dead," continued Chavez, "and I'm not gonna stop working this case until he's at least one of 'em,"

Reluctant at first, Hotch soon let out a short sigh, nodding in agreement, "Okay," his eyes darted across the room in a way that made it blatant to Nancy that he was hiding something.

"What?" she prompted, relieved that she needn't press any further.

"We've... brought someone from your building into questioning," it was no mystery to Nancy who the first man they'd point their finger at could possibly be. If history did indeed repeat itself then her perfect boy next door made sense as, Lexi had so eloquently put it, suspect numero uno.

"It's Nick isn't it?" asked Nancy, rather calmly. Her brow simply raised, apparently more exasperated than angered by this revelation.

"Chavez-"

"Yeah, he's not our guy," moving past Hotch with a scoff, Nancy made her way out of the breakroom, maneuvering through the sea of uniformed officers as Hotch called out for her once again

"Nancy!"

"Where is he?" she asked, eyes scanning the bullpen "Handcuffed to a table or did you actually shove him into an interrogation room?" turning when she'd yet to get a verbal answer, Hotch once again made it easy for her to read the truth. Of course, they'd shoved him in interrogation with little to no evidence, "Oh fantastic," sarcasm had never come to her so easily as when in the presence of an increasingly irritated Aaron Hotchner. But there was nothing he could do. Less than willing to physically restrain her, he simply followed in pursuit as she made her way to put a stop to her (likely soon-to-be ex) boyfriend's interrogation, "This is over," she demanded, flashing her badge.

"Excuse me?" questioned the clearly confused detective, the state only growing when his eyes landed on the unit chief instead of his own captain.

"FBI," she smiled sarcastically, tone so condescending it envied that of a teacher scolding a second grader, "Get out," abrupt as she was, Nancy was well within her jurisdiction to demand such a thing. The second the BAU set foot in the precinct it was their case. So when the unnamed detective turned to Hotch for confirmation the unit chief simply nodded, the iron door still held open until the detective had no choice but to leave. Apparently approving nod sent Nancy's way, all he needed to do was glance toward the two-way glass to let her know he wouldn't be going far.

The second the door closed, the second they were left alone, Nancy's fearless facade dropped. She glanced toward Nick, apologetic for all that simply being a part of Nancy's life had put him through, "Are you okay?" she began, grateful when her wistful gaze was returned.

"Nance, what the hell is going on?" shrugged Nick.

"Nick-" she tried to explain.

"They don't seriously think I did this, do they?"

"Nick-"

But once again Nancy was interrupted, "I came here to try and help, not turn myself in, okay? Next thing I know some scrawny FBI guy is shoving me into an interrogation room!" Nancy's bros furrowed ever so slightly at that. Why had Spencer of all people had hauled his ass into interrogation?

Eyes fluttering closed for a moment, Nancy had to remind herself what she was truly doing there. Not just in the precinct, in her hometown. If history truly did repeat itself, there was a very real possibility that, even if she wanted it least to be true, Nick was behind the murders. Despite her unwitting apology, Nancy had to remain professional.

"We can't keep you here," she began, taking the chair that had once been occupied by a moe that capable detective and whirling it around with her dominant hand, simply to sit on it entirely the wrong way. Leaning against the metal back of the chair, fingertips tapping the edge of the table, Nancy's jaw clenched ever so slightly as she added, "Evidence? Circumstantial at best," at first, Nick seemed shocked at her words, "The boyfriend, the... boy next door. It's almost too perfect,"

Ever the man that was far too good for her, Nick frowned understandingly, reaching across the table in the hope that Nancy would allow him to place his hands over hers, only for the agent to slide them away into her lap, "Nancy..." he began, with emphasis, "I would never do anything to hurt you,"

I know.

Very nearly the words that left the young agent's lips. Shaking her head, Nancy glanced away tearfully as she leaned further back, becoming regretful that her choice of chair position when she had nothing to lean against.

"This isn't about you," she whispered, wiping away her tear before it had any chance to fall down her face. Tongue poking at her cheek, Nancy's arms came up to fold defensively across her chest, "You disappear, I get attacked, and you reappear when the bastard is gone. You know how that looks," Nick nodded reluctantly, although he'd yet to interrupt the nervous young agent, "This is bigger than you and me. I need you to understand that," deciding to lean away from her, Nick knew her statement was an attempt at a goodbye. This was something she had to go through alone.

"I understand," he reluctantly agreed, for which Nancy was rather thankful.

"I can't trust anybody," she added, visibly exhausted from the fact. Still, Nick didn't argue.

"I know," he smiled softly. But this time, the gaze was anything but returned. Not wanting to sit in the pained room any longer, Nancy got to her feet, opening the interrogation room door, much to everybody else's chagrin.

"You're free to go," slowly, he nodded, crossing the room toward the tearful brunette. He frowned, and paused in the doorway, yearning to hold her one last time

"Nance, I—" his hand raised, suddenly appalled with himself when Nancy simply flinched away.

"Don't," she warned, grimacing as the metal handle of the door dug into her back. Glare fixed to his features, Hotch soon came to the young agent's defense, still not needing to use force as he sneered at the soon-to-be free 'suspect'.

"Mr. Walker," his tone came out more warning than anything, leaving Nancy be as he gave Nick no other choice but to follow him out of the room. Door closing behind them, Nancy almost forgot that the place she now found herself alone was not in fact alone. Two-way glass gave the facade of privacy, when in fact anyone detective would be watching from the other side. She managed to compose herself, deep breaths escaping though pursed lips as she could t stop herself from pacing. By the time Aaron found himself back in the room, Nancy's hands had met her forehead in an apparent desperate attempt to physically relieve herself from such thoughts.

"Are you okay?" he asked breathlessly, as though expecting a lie for an answer.

"No," she shrugged honestly, surprising even herself. Fists clenched so tightly her fingernails threatened to draw blood, and Nancy's eyes darted anywhere but Aaron's eye line. Ever the welcome reminder that Nancy's sadness was never in the lead. No, her anger ruled over her emotions.

Taking a breath, Nancy decided once again that the best option she had was to simply throw herself back into work. Back into something that would keep her mind as occupied as possible. Which, of course, meant getting whatever information she needed straight from the ingenious source.

─────

An hour, maybe three, had passed by before Nancy actually managed to find said genius. Time that had been filled rather adequately by more (seemingly pointless) reading and research into her past.

Spencer had situated himself against one of the detectives' unoccupied desks, Emily had taken the chair, flicking through the pages with a rather concerning look of urgency. Nancy approached with caution, although she could tell Reid had spotted her in his peripherals.

"What's up, buttercup?" she teased, chipped facade doing little to earn her so much as a half-assed smirk from the increasingly concerned doctor. Puzzled, Nancy attempted to sit beside and peer at the pages of the case file, only for Reid to slam it shut, pushing onto his feet the second Nancy's back hit the desk.

"I wanna look over the case files again," he began, barely even acknowledging Nancy was there. She frowned, watching as he glanced down at Prentiss and ignored her completely, "do we have them all now?"

"All except one," overhearing Emily's reluctant response, Derek sauntered toward the three in confusion.

"What, why?"

"Well, Garcia got us everything she could buy, but part of it was sealed," shrugged Emily, seemingly just as unknowing as Morgan. Nancy, however, knew far too much. It took all the power she had not to form a grimace, opting simply to stare at her feet as the others discussed.

"She can't unseal it?" asked Morgan, stunned that Garcia had encountered something she couldn't actually do.

Prentiss shook her head "Not without permission from the lead investigating agent of the original case," Reid grew increasingly puzzled at that, folded once held almost in a protective grip now place onto the cool desk he'd once been leaning against.

"But that's... Gideon?" Spencer's statement became more of a question as he realized the implications of such a fact.

"If he wanted to, he would have unsealed it by now," Derek's eyes narrowed, picking up on Nancy's rather suspicious silence.

Emily frowned in confusion, "So why hasn't he?"

Just when it seemed that no one had an answer, Reid's confused gaze met Nancy's guilt-ridden expression. And soon enough her silence had gained suspicions from not just Reid, but Morgan as they looked her up and down.

"Something you wanna tell us?" ordinarily Nancy wouldn't take the bait when such an obscure accusation was thrown her way, but running on literal fumes left her fuse rather short.

"Excuse me?"

"Why's that case file still sealed?" noticing sudden tension in the air, Hotch and Gideon both stood, exchanging knowing glances as Nancy looked away in shame. She knew what he was talking about. Every detail of the case had been told explicitly to the members of the BAU. Almost every detail that is. There was just one key element that had been sealed away long ago.

"Morgan, stop," Gideon's voice was almost pleading, yet still he managed to maintain his sense of authority.

"No," Morgan pressed on, so much so that Nancy couldn't tell if he truly thought her guilty or was simply searching for a confession, "She said it herself! Everybody's a suspect, right?"

Nancy scoffed in disbelief, "You think I did this?"

"You tell me," shrugged Morgan, brows knitted as he awaited her response. Now he was staring to get under her skin.

"Why would I try to kill my brothers?" she asked, stepping forward as her arms wound together tightly across her chest, "Why would I stab myself?"

"Wouldn't be the first time an unsub got away with murder because of self-inflicted wounds," retorted Morgan, visibly satisfied that Nancy didn't have a retort for that. Even more shocking than the sudden aggressive behavior was that, still, none of the other agents had intervened. Which for Prentiss and Reid was understandable. They'd known her, what, a day and a half? Morgan... him they trusted. Gideon and Hotch, however, had no excuse for not rushing to Nancy's rescue. Although she did happen to recognize a signature shared look of theirs, "What's in that file?"

Still, Nancy held her own. She had no obligation to share what she knew to be in that file, "If the information in that file is 'it was me all along', that makes Hotch guilty too. And Gideon," sneered the Chavez girl, "Is that a road you wanna go down?"

"What is in that file?" repeated Morgan, emphasis on each and every word. Even when she did glance toward Hotch and Gideon for support, their firm expressions told her everything she needed to know about their opinion of the decisions she was about to make.

"What's in the file, Chavez?" Emily's voice came out, softer than Morgan's but still serious enough for Nancy to know she'd yet to gain her trust.

Eyes fluttering closed, Nancy forced herself to take a deep breath. Because the news she was about to share... there would be no going back once that was out in the open, "It's not a what, it's a how,"

"Chavez-" Gideon stood, apparently unable to remain unbiased, a stark contrast to their unit chief.

"No, it's okay," nodded Nancy, feeling her heartbeat in her ears as she took another deep breath, "When I... killed Tommy," — words she still struggled to say aloud — "It didn't happen exactly like everybody was told," brows knitted in confusion, Morgan's gaze flickered between Nancy and Gideon.

"What?"

"Hotch had to write the report," she couldn't stop shaking. Why couldnt she stop shaking? It wasn't like the opinions of the people in that room mattered to her in any way... right? "Gideon sealed it to protect me from... From the media, from... my family... from the truth,"

"The truth?" repeated Reid, with genuine worry and far less aggressive than his angered colleague.

"I-"

Suddenly cut off, Nancy's head whirled around to where Gideon was now stood by her side, "I reviewed that file myself," he finally confessed, hopeful that his word, more than anyone, would reassure the members of his team, "there's no connection to the current murders,"

"Has she?" argued Morgan, fingertip waving in Nancy's direction, "does she even know what's on it?"

"Yes!" the room fell quiet once more because there were no other words left to say. Nothing that could make it better. No excuse that could cover the truth Nancy had withheld for so long. She was grateful to Hotch and Gideon, they knew that. But no longer could she hide from her wicked actions, "Before I shot him, I stabbed him twenty-two times and then I slit his throat," Nancy's rush through the words was by no means purposeful. She simply feared taking her time would make it all the more difficult to get to the end. Mouths agape, all Morgan, Prentiss, and Reid could do was stare at one another in utter shock. The words well, that's a lot to unpack came to mind. And yet still Nancy found it in her to continue, "Hotch... was able to convince the NYPD they didn't need to reveal all the... details to the press. They wanted a C.O.D., they got one. And the truth was locked away, strictly need to know,"

Morgan's laugh wasn't in any way meant to mock the young agent. If anything, she could tell they commended her for finally confessing the truth. But still, and rightfully so, he was frustrated. That they'd all been kept in the dark for so long. That they hadn't considered just how crucial such information could be, whether they reviewed the case file themselves or not.

"That isn't information that's vital to the case?" his voice somehow hadn't raised, but Nancy could sense he was holding back, if not for her then to keep his damn job.

"I'm not the unsub," she emphasized, opting to match his anger even when she knew he had good reason for it.

"Maybe not," Nancy was shocked when the argument came from beside her, instead of the agent she was staring at. Reid's words were nowhere near as aggressive as Morgan but still Nancy could sense his disappointment, "but someone close to Tommy could have found out what you did,"

Hotch shook his head, "We already looked into that," he defended "The fact that Chavez killed him is known to the public, so the how wasn't a real concern,"

"Yeah, cause a self-defense headshot is the same as going Michael Myers on their ass," scoffed Morgan, earning himself a rather harsh glare from one Emily Prentiss.

"Morgan..." voice just above a whisper, Prentiss new there was nothing more she could say to get her point across without instigating further argumentative remarks.

"He's right," she defended, "We shouldn't have kept it from you, and I'm sorry for that. But I'm not sorry for what I did,"

Not once had anyone asked her to apologize for her actions. Frustrated as they may have been, nobody blamed her for being forced into such out-of-character brutality.

But before anybody had a chance to tell her. To remind her that she was a damn good agent no matter what. Phone in hand, Riley, of all people, suddenly came sprinting into the bullpen. He hadn't noticed a single one of his colleagues at first as he glanced helplessly around the sea of uniformed, "Nance- Nancy!" he called desperately, urgency immediately sending the young agent spiraling as her mind played over every single terrible piece of news he could possibly have. Dropping what was likely one of the most crucial conversations of the case entirely, Nancy shoved her way through to meet Riley halfway as she questioned

"What?" an anxious breath escaped her, "What's going on? What happened?" Riley's hands suddenly met her shoulders, even more out of breath than she was. He'd apparently elected to run from wherever he'd found himself receiving whatever important bit of information he was about to relay.

"Why... why is your phone off?" he groaned, Nancy's impatient testing thin as she whacked his arms off from their grip on her shoulder.

"Spit it out!"

"He's awake," he finally managed, just in time for Gideon to meet them where they stood, "Mateo... called," Riley swallowed, already catching his breath, "Eddie's awake," Guilt set in at the idea of suddenly abandoning the team. Leaving just as they found out her deepest, darkest secret made her stomach churn but she simply had no other choice.

Like magic, Gideon read her mind. His hand gripped her shoulder once more, nodding with urgency as he utter the single best word Nancy could possibly have waited to hear, "Go,"

hey uhhh

once again im so sorry its been a million years !! anyway gonna attempt to wrap up the (first) ghostface arc (rewatched scream 2 while finishing this chapter n everything) bc a month between updates is ridiculous i'm so sorry 😅

ANYWAY TY FOR 120k READS IM SO GRATEFUL FOR US STICKING AROUND W MY SLOW ASS UPDATES 😭

i think im struggling a little w this whole creating my own storyline thing bc i have SO MUCH planned for when i start writing actual episodes of criminal minds u have no idea i've written almost too much that i simply can't publish cause it's so far ahead in the storyline 😭

ty for reading and voting
and commenting it really does make my day!

<3