Ficlet: Penance
Four request drabbles/ficlets/whatever down, three to go? I think?
Title: Penance
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Character/Pairing: Elle, gen
Rating: PG-13 for dark themes, implied violence
Prompt: written for eviinsanemonkey with the prompt "Elle, repentance"
Summary: Absolution requires the admission of guilt and the willingness to change.
Seven hours is a lot of time to do nothing. Elle's legs are cramping and the muscles in her back are protesting loudly, and every once in a while she stretches as best as she can just so that she won't get frozen like this.
It's stiflingly hot and dark, only a few bars of light sneaking through the slats on the door, and the thought occurs to her more than once that she needs to stop taking cases like this.
She will never stop taking cases like this.
Someone turns on a television in the next room, not loud enough to tell what is playing but making enough noise to be a comfort, or a distraction. Elle stays just as quiet as before, a silence so deep it becomes a mockery of reverence. Crouching on the floor, the closet suddenly feels like a confessional, cramped and oppressive and shameful.
She gags at the thought, noiselessly, but she can't leave yet. It isn't as though this is the worst place she's hidden, either, or at least it shouldn't be. Objectively. The motel is a bit of a dump, but it's significantly cleaner and less odorous than the occasional truck stop bathroom or dumpster she's had to make use of.
The sound from the next room changes quality; the low thrum of dialogue swapped out for the concussive thump of an action movie - someone's gotten bored with the evening news, maybe. She has a watch, but it does her no good now. All the same, she thinks it must be after eleven.
She wants to leave. She misses reliable surveillance technology, neatly equipped vans for stakeouts, clean, efficient routines. Oddly, she even misses waiting for the call, chomping at the bit until they get the okay, then going in, guns blazing.
More oddly still, she misses having backup.
But really, the contacts she has now do far more good for her than the obedient BAU ever had. She is doing more good than she ever could, trapped under the weight of their rules.
It just gets - boring, sometimes, sitting in the dark alone. It has to be done alone. None of the BAU would approve of this case, anyway, not approve of what she's going to do in - a few minutes, that's all. Hopefully not much longer than that. She knew right off when she heard the details of the case that this guy was nothing like organized enough to have a routine, be on time for anything, but she hadn't thought he would be this late, either.
Really, if a scumbag is going to kidnap a teenage girl, you'd think he'd at least want to spend time with her in his seedy little sinful motel room. The longer he stays gone, the longer before Elle can finish her business here and get the hell out before thinking about things drives her insane.
This is not the place for revelations. This is the place for secrets. This is the case Elle doesn't get paid for, doesn't even get hired for, the case where she frees the girl and sets her on her way back to her parents without letting her see her face. There will be no witnesses, no one to know her involvement. She won't tell anyone, and she most certainly will not ask for forgiveness.
The only thing she needs to be forgiven for is not working these sorts of cases earlier.
The door to the motel room creaks open, and Elle wraps her fingers around her gun, pulling it from the holster and standing. The creep is walking into the room, and she has to time this just right - after he's passed her hiding place, before he's noticed the girl is missing.
She steps out of the closet, lines up the shot. She hardly makes a sound as she pulls the trigger.
Title: Penance
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Character/Pairing: Elle, gen
Rating: PG-13 for dark themes, implied violence
Prompt: written for eviinsanemonkey with the prompt "Elle, repentance"
Summary: Absolution requires the admission of guilt and the willingness to change.
Seven hours is a lot of time to do nothing. Elle's legs are cramping and the muscles in her back are protesting loudly, and every once in a while she stretches as best as she can just so that she won't get frozen like this.
It's stiflingly hot and dark, only a few bars of light sneaking through the slats on the door, and the thought occurs to her more than once that she needs to stop taking cases like this.
She will never stop taking cases like this.
Someone turns on a television in the next room, not loud enough to tell what is playing but making enough noise to be a comfort, or a distraction. Elle stays just as quiet as before, a silence so deep it becomes a mockery of reverence. Crouching on the floor, the closet suddenly feels like a confessional, cramped and oppressive and shameful.
She gags at the thought, noiselessly, but she can't leave yet. It isn't as though this is the worst place she's hidden, either, or at least it shouldn't be. Objectively. The motel is a bit of a dump, but it's significantly cleaner and less odorous than the occasional truck stop bathroom or dumpster she's had to make use of.
The sound from the next room changes quality; the low thrum of dialogue swapped out for the concussive thump of an action movie - someone's gotten bored with the evening news, maybe. She has a watch, but it does her no good now. All the same, she thinks it must be after eleven.
She wants to leave. She misses reliable surveillance technology, neatly equipped vans for stakeouts, clean, efficient routines. Oddly, she even misses waiting for the call, chomping at the bit until they get the okay, then going in, guns blazing.
More oddly still, she misses having backup.
But really, the contacts she has now do far more good for her than the obedient BAU ever had. She is doing more good than she ever could, trapped under the weight of their rules.
It just gets - boring, sometimes, sitting in the dark alone. It has to be done alone. None of the BAU would approve of this case, anyway, not approve of what she's going to do in - a few minutes, that's all. Hopefully not much longer than that. She knew right off when she heard the details of the case that this guy was nothing like organized enough to have a routine, be on time for anything, but she hadn't thought he would be this late, either.
Really, if a scumbag is going to kidnap a teenage girl, you'd think he'd at least want to spend time with her in his seedy little sinful motel room. The longer he stays gone, the longer before Elle can finish her business here and get the hell out before thinking about things drives her insane.
This is not the place for revelations. This is the place for secrets. This is the case Elle doesn't get paid for, doesn't even get hired for, the case where she frees the girl and sets her on her way back to her parents without letting her see her face. There will be no witnesses, no one to know her involvement. She won't tell anyone, and she most certainly will not ask for forgiveness.
The only thing she needs to be forgiven for is not working these sorts of cases earlier.
The door to the motel room creaks open, and Elle wraps her fingers around her gun, pulling it from the holster and standing. The creep is walking into the room, and she has to time this just right - after he's passed her hiding place, before he's noticed the girl is missing.
She steps out of the closet, lines up the shot. She hardly makes a sound as she pulls the trigger.