The Waste Land, 40/44
Title: The Waste Land
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Characters/Pairing: Team-centric - gen
Genre: Drama/Suspense
Summary: Part Three: George Foyet has returned. His isn’t going to let the BAU forget his legacy. Ever.
Warnings: Character Death
The Waste Land
Part Three: The Reaper’s Gambit
And then-the watcher at his pulse took fright.
No one believed. They listened at his heart.
Little-less-nothing!-and that ended it.
No more to build on there. And they, since they
Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.
Robert Frost - Out, Out-
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
William Shakespeare
Chapter Fourteen - Saints and Sinners (Rossi)
The sirens blare, even though they don’t really matter anymore.
It’s all over.
Foyet is dead.
Hotch is dead.
The rest of the team is safe.
Relatively speaking.
He pulls to a dangerously uneven stop outside the house. Just a regular, suburban house. “FOR SALE” says the sign in the front yard, surrounded by neatly trimmed hedges.
Sitting on the front step are Derek Morgan and Emily Prentiss. They look like they’ve been through hell. Morgan has been beaten up pretty badly, and there’s blood splatter on Emily’s face. Something dark inside of him says that it isn’t her blood.
Her head rests against Morgan’s shoulder, and he has his arm around her. It’s a quiet moment, that he almost doesn’t want to interrupt.
They stand, as he unbuckles his seatbelt. The passenger’s side door has slammed before he can even say anything, and Penelope Garcia has run over to wrap her two friends in what looks like it’s going to be the world’s longest bear hug.
JJ and Reid had stayed behind at the police station. As much as they’d wanted to come, this…this is too much. Rossi had ordered them both back to the hospital.
Too much for all of them, really.
‘Do you need an ambulance?’ Rossi says, trying to keep his composure. He’s an old pro at this. It shouldn’t be so difficult not to break down. It’s something that he should have asked before getting here, but then, he’d arranged for one anyway. He just wants to hear them say it.
You can break down later.
Garcia pulls away suddenly, as if afraid she might have made their injuries worse. Morgan gives Emily a quick look.
‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Probably,’ and the mere fact that he’s willing to admit that makes Rossi realize just how close they had come to losing two more agents.
‘How did you do it?’ Garcia asks, breathless. ‘Foyet wouldn’t just…’ She gives an awkward gesture. ‘Let you…you know…’
‘I shot him,’ he says shortly. When Garcia’s expression becomes even more confused, he adds, a little evasively, ‘It’s a long story.’ Rossi wonders if it’s the kind of “long story” that means he doesn’t want to tell Garcia about it. If nothing else, it will be in their official reports, so there’s no way they can keep any of it from Garcia.
It hits him with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer the moment he steps inside the house.
His best friend is dead.
Now that it’s all over, he can process that fact properly. Crying at a crime scene isn’t exactly the kind of behavior that the general public expects of an FBI agent, but screw the public. And when the reporters came, like vultures. Well, he’d deal with that when it happened.
The house is empty, and it smells like death.
He finds Foyet’s body first, single gunshot wound through his eye. After everything they’ve been through, it doesn’t quite seem enough.
He lingers at the door of the next room, not particularly wanting to step inside. No matter what he wants, though, it was something that he needs to do.
A sheet covers the body, specks of crimson starting to seep through. He wonders if it had been Morgan or Emily that had put it there. Probably Emily.
His stomach roils.
Looking, he can tell exactly how it had gone down. Gun to the back of the skull, with a decent sized bullet. Not a pretty way to die. Not that any way of dying is particularly dignified. But this one seems so much worse. Maybe because it’s Aaron Hotchner, the man that seems to starch even his boxer shorts.
This isn’t Hotch. Not anymore.
He replaces the sheet, and goes back outside to his team.
He must’ve spent longer inside than he’d realized, because when he returns, there’s an ambulance in the driveway, attending to both Morgan and Prentiss. Morgan has a lot of cuts and bruises, but it’s Emily that looks worse for wear. Morgan says something to the paramedic as he puts a stethoscope to her chest.
They’ll at least have to stay overnight at the hospital, he figures. With JJ and Reid going back, too, they might as well have a god damn slumber party.
‘Sir?’ Garcia says. Rossi looks over to see her eyes shining with tears.
‘I’m not going to stop you, if it’s what you really want,’ he tells her. ‘But I…strongly discourage you from looking at what’s inside that house.’
Her lips quiver, and she steels herself, nodding. He doubts that she would have anyway. It’s not that she isn’t strong - Penelope Garcia is one of the strongest people he knows. It’s just that her strength is different.
‘There’s nothing we can do here, is there?’ she asks, and Rossi shakes his head. The coroner will come and take the bodies away, and a forensic unit will do a sweep, but really all of that can be handled by the Boston Police Department. They don’t need to be here, and yet it feels like a betrayal to leave.
The ambulance leaves with Morgan and Prentiss, but Rossi waits until the coroner’s van arrives. Garcia hangs back, anxious.
‘It doesn’t feel right,’ she says, softly. ‘Putting them in the same van together.’ It doesn’t, but save from demanding that they bring another one to the scene, there really isn’t anything they can do about it.
There are two black body bags carried from the house, and Rossi can’t tell the difference.
They drive to the hospital in silence. At one point, Rossi realizes that he should call Haley, but it’s not a call that he wants to make.
He knows that they had never stopped loving one another. That’s the most heartbreaking thing of all.
Second-most, actually. Jack might be a little too young to understand what death really means, but it will still be a harrowing experience.
‘You go inside,’ he instructs Garcia, as they park the SUV. As temporary team leader, it’s his duty to do the dirty jobs. The jobs that no-one ever really knows are being done. ‘I’ve got to make some phone calls.’
He takes a deep breath, and dials.
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Characters/Pairing: Team-centric - gen
Genre: Drama/Suspense
Summary: Part Three: George Foyet has returned. His isn’t going to let the BAU forget his legacy. Ever.
Warnings: Character Death
The Waste Land
Part Three: The Reaper’s Gambit
And then-the watcher at his pulse took fright.
No one believed. They listened at his heart.
Little-less-nothing!-and that ended it.
No more to build on there. And they, since they
Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.
Robert Frost - Out, Out-
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
William Shakespeare
Chapter Fourteen - Saints and Sinners (Rossi)
The sirens blare, even though they don’t really matter anymore.
It’s all over.
Foyet is dead.
Hotch is dead.
The rest of the team is safe.
Relatively speaking.
He pulls to a dangerously uneven stop outside the house. Just a regular, suburban house. “FOR SALE” says the sign in the front yard, surrounded by neatly trimmed hedges.
Sitting on the front step are Derek Morgan and Emily Prentiss. They look like they’ve been through hell. Morgan has been beaten up pretty badly, and there’s blood splatter on Emily’s face. Something dark inside of him says that it isn’t her blood.
Her head rests against Morgan’s shoulder, and he has his arm around her. It’s a quiet moment, that he almost doesn’t want to interrupt.
They stand, as he unbuckles his seatbelt. The passenger’s side door has slammed before he can even say anything, and Penelope Garcia has run over to wrap her two friends in what looks like it’s going to be the world’s longest bear hug.
JJ and Reid had stayed behind at the police station. As much as they’d wanted to come, this…this is too much. Rossi had ordered them both back to the hospital.
Too much for all of them, really.
‘Do you need an ambulance?’ Rossi says, trying to keep his composure. He’s an old pro at this. It shouldn’t be so difficult not to break down. It’s something that he should have asked before getting here, but then, he’d arranged for one anyway. He just wants to hear them say it.
You can break down later.
Garcia pulls away suddenly, as if afraid she might have made their injuries worse. Morgan gives Emily a quick look.
‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Probably,’ and the mere fact that he’s willing to admit that makes Rossi realize just how close they had come to losing two more agents.
‘How did you do it?’ Garcia asks, breathless. ‘Foyet wouldn’t just…’ She gives an awkward gesture. ‘Let you…you know…’
‘I shot him,’ he says shortly. When Garcia’s expression becomes even more confused, he adds, a little evasively, ‘It’s a long story.’ Rossi wonders if it’s the kind of “long story” that means he doesn’t want to tell Garcia about it. If nothing else, it will be in their official reports, so there’s no way they can keep any of it from Garcia.
It hits him with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer the moment he steps inside the house.
His best friend is dead.
Now that it’s all over, he can process that fact properly. Crying at a crime scene isn’t exactly the kind of behavior that the general public expects of an FBI agent, but screw the public. And when the reporters came, like vultures. Well, he’d deal with that when it happened.
The house is empty, and it smells like death.
He finds Foyet’s body first, single gunshot wound through his eye. After everything they’ve been through, it doesn’t quite seem enough.
He lingers at the door of the next room, not particularly wanting to step inside. No matter what he wants, though, it was something that he needs to do.
A sheet covers the body, specks of crimson starting to seep through. He wonders if it had been Morgan or Emily that had put it there. Probably Emily.
His stomach roils.
Looking, he can tell exactly how it had gone down. Gun to the back of the skull, with a decent sized bullet. Not a pretty way to die. Not that any way of dying is particularly dignified. But this one seems so much worse. Maybe because it’s Aaron Hotchner, the man that seems to starch even his boxer shorts.
This isn’t Hotch. Not anymore.
He replaces the sheet, and goes back outside to his team.
He must’ve spent longer inside than he’d realized, because when he returns, there’s an ambulance in the driveway, attending to both Morgan and Prentiss. Morgan has a lot of cuts and bruises, but it’s Emily that looks worse for wear. Morgan says something to the paramedic as he puts a stethoscope to her chest.
They’ll at least have to stay overnight at the hospital, he figures. With JJ and Reid going back, too, they might as well have a god damn slumber party.
‘Sir?’ Garcia says. Rossi looks over to see her eyes shining with tears.
‘I’m not going to stop you, if it’s what you really want,’ he tells her. ‘But I…strongly discourage you from looking at what’s inside that house.’
Her lips quiver, and she steels herself, nodding. He doubts that she would have anyway. It’s not that she isn’t strong - Penelope Garcia is one of the strongest people he knows. It’s just that her strength is different.
‘There’s nothing we can do here, is there?’ she asks, and Rossi shakes his head. The coroner will come and take the bodies away, and a forensic unit will do a sweep, but really all of that can be handled by the Boston Police Department. They don’t need to be here, and yet it feels like a betrayal to leave.
The ambulance leaves with Morgan and Prentiss, but Rossi waits until the coroner’s van arrives. Garcia hangs back, anxious.
‘It doesn’t feel right,’ she says, softly. ‘Putting them in the same van together.’ It doesn’t, but save from demanding that they bring another one to the scene, there really isn’t anything they can do about it.
There are two black body bags carried from the house, and Rossi can’t tell the difference.
They drive to the hospital in silence. At one point, Rossi realizes that he should call Haley, but it’s not a call that he wants to make.
He knows that they had never stopped loving one another. That’s the most heartbreaking thing of all.
Second-most, actually. Jack might be a little too young to understand what death really means, but it will still be a harrowing experience.
‘You go inside,’ he instructs Garcia, as they park the SUV. As temporary team leader, it’s his duty to do the dirty jobs. The jobs that no-one ever really knows are being done. ‘I’ve got to make some phone calls.’
He takes a deep breath, and dials.