Short!fic - Cope (Criminal Minds)
Title: Cope
Author: Ry (curseangel / dreamsforlease)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Angst, dark.
Characters/Pairings: The team, a la season one (Gideon, Hotchner, Morgan, Reid, Greenaway, JJ, and Garcia).
Summary: There is a small death that occurs when they leave work, like they left part of themselves in an office filing cabinet, on their seat on the plane. My first Criminal Minds fic.
Cut text from Eve 6's "Promise".
Their cases were never easy. They never got there before. They never came until it was too late - someone was dead, someone broken, someone twisted beyond recognition or repair, whether internally or externally. They distanced themselves in different ways, coping mechanisms employed part and parcel of the job, just one of the many tools they needed to have in order to work the way they did.
Hotchner throws himself into the work headlong and doesn't look back, spends hours at the office looking over the same dry reports until his vision is swimming and he can't write anymore. Gideon goes home and thinks and doesn't sleep, or maybe he doesn't and stays in the office a while, looking at the pictures of the people they saved, the people whose lives were fractured but intact at the end of the day. Morgan goes back to his flat, most nights, and sometimes he calls one of the others from the team, Garcia or Reid, but most times he doesn't, watches television or goes out for a drink and tries not to think of what he leaves behind in the office. Elle has a glass of wine before bed every night so she won't dream, a trick she learned working sex crimes and hasn't needed to stop using since. Reid takes a couple of books to bed, doesn't turn off the light until his brain starts skipping beats, and it takes hours, and sometimes it doesn't work anyway, so he gets up and turns on the computer, does research on whatever until the nightmares fade or the morning comes. JJ goes out, but sometimes she stays in, sits down to dinner alone and thinks about the cases she didn't choose, the ones they didn't investigate, the ones she didn't know would be okay, and sometimes she throws out half the food on her plate because she just can't. Garcia immerses herself in World of Warcraft until she stops seeing things behind her eyelids when she closes them and goes to bed with a wish for their safety, all of them and all the victims out there who hadn't been hurt yet, hadn't been picked yet.
They don't know each other's quiet rituals, the steps they take to lull themselves into sleep. Sometimes they see clues, on late night flights back home when they're too exhausted to wait to get home to fall asleep, when it was too much and they've chased, been chased, been shot at, or it was just so emotionally draining they can't hold it anymore. When Hotchner sits straight up with a cup of tea most people would swear ought to put him to sleep that keeps him awake better than coffee sometimes. When JJ puts her coat over her legs and reclines her seat as much as she can, facing the others instead of the window when she closes her eyes. When Reid falls asleep curled up on the long seat at the table, legs pulled up because he's too tall to let them hang off the end comfortably, and Morgan pretends he doesn't sneak glances to make sure he stays asleep, but the boy never has nightmares on the plane.
Gideon just watches, watches them, his team. The ones he has to rescue at the end of the day, the birds under his care with their clipped feathers, their broken wings. They break themselves every day, and he's responsible for the slings, the tape and sutures to put them together again, even if it only means putting them close enough to each other that they fix themselves. They're brilliant, every single one of them could be counted a genius in their own right. Every one strong, capable, intelligent, educated. Every single one of them still a child in some way, every single one broken. Abused, injured, ostracized. Hotchner's abuse, Reid's isolation and his fear, Morgan's secrets. They hold together so well it's difficult to see, nearly impossible. But knowing people is what Gideon does. He sees. No one who does this job isn't broken somehow, hasn't been a victim themselves. If they weren't, they wouldn't be this good.
In rest, they repair. They cope. Gideon guides them as much as he can, but he knows.
Someday, they're going to have to rescue themselves.
Author: Ry (curseangel / dreamsforlease)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Angst, dark.
Characters/Pairings: The team, a la season one (Gideon, Hotchner, Morgan, Reid, Greenaway, JJ, and Garcia).
Summary: There is a small death that occurs when they leave work, like they left part of themselves in an office filing cabinet, on their seat on the plane. My first Criminal Minds fic.
Cut text from Eve 6's "Promise".
Their cases were never easy. They never got there before. They never came until it was too late - someone was dead, someone broken, someone twisted beyond recognition or repair, whether internally or externally. They distanced themselves in different ways, coping mechanisms employed part and parcel of the job, just one of the many tools they needed to have in order to work the way they did.
Hotchner throws himself into the work headlong and doesn't look back, spends hours at the office looking over the same dry reports until his vision is swimming and he can't write anymore. Gideon goes home and thinks and doesn't sleep, or maybe he doesn't and stays in the office a while, looking at the pictures of the people they saved, the people whose lives were fractured but intact at the end of the day. Morgan goes back to his flat, most nights, and sometimes he calls one of the others from the team, Garcia or Reid, but most times he doesn't, watches television or goes out for a drink and tries not to think of what he leaves behind in the office. Elle has a glass of wine before bed every night so she won't dream, a trick she learned working sex crimes and hasn't needed to stop using since. Reid takes a couple of books to bed, doesn't turn off the light until his brain starts skipping beats, and it takes hours, and sometimes it doesn't work anyway, so he gets up and turns on the computer, does research on whatever until the nightmares fade or the morning comes. JJ goes out, but sometimes she stays in, sits down to dinner alone and thinks about the cases she didn't choose, the ones they didn't investigate, the ones she didn't know would be okay, and sometimes she throws out half the food on her plate because she just can't. Garcia immerses herself in World of Warcraft until she stops seeing things behind her eyelids when she closes them and goes to bed with a wish for their safety, all of them and all the victims out there who hadn't been hurt yet, hadn't been picked yet.
They don't know each other's quiet rituals, the steps they take to lull themselves into sleep. Sometimes they see clues, on late night flights back home when they're too exhausted to wait to get home to fall asleep, when it was too much and they've chased, been chased, been shot at, or it was just so emotionally draining they can't hold it anymore. When Hotchner sits straight up with a cup of tea most people would swear ought to put him to sleep that keeps him awake better than coffee sometimes. When JJ puts her coat over her legs and reclines her seat as much as she can, facing the others instead of the window when she closes her eyes. When Reid falls asleep curled up on the long seat at the table, legs pulled up because he's too tall to let them hang off the end comfortably, and Morgan pretends he doesn't sneak glances to make sure he stays asleep, but the boy never has nightmares on the plane.
Gideon just watches, watches them, his team. The ones he has to rescue at the end of the day, the birds under his care with their clipped feathers, their broken wings. They break themselves every day, and he's responsible for the slings, the tape and sutures to put them together again, even if it only means putting them close enough to each other that they fix themselves. They're brilliant, every single one of them could be counted a genius in their own right. Every one strong, capable, intelligent, educated. Every single one of them still a child in some way, every single one broken. Abused, injured, ostracized. Hotchner's abuse, Reid's isolation and his fear, Morgan's secrets. They hold together so well it's difficult to see, nearly impossible. But knowing people is what Gideon does. He sees. No one who does this job isn't broken somehow, hasn't been a victim themselves. If they weren't, they wouldn't be this good.
In rest, they repair. They cope. Gideon guides them as much as he can, but he knows.
Someday, they're going to have to rescue themselves.