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continued from hereHe lets himself be guided, out of the compound and almost all of the awy back to his hut. They're both adults; they both know what could happen here. He keeps his hand in hers and he doesn't say anything. It's a long walk to his place, but it's a familiar one, and, quickly, he finds that they've fallen into step with each ( Read more... )

Most nights, he ends up in the Winchester, tucked at the table in the corner, book in front of him. It's easier that cooking for himself, more companionable than staying at home. Martha's old enough that she stays at the hut without a problem, so he feels relatively little guilt for being there. More importantly, it gets him out of the house ( Read more... )

He's sitting on the porch with Martha on his feet and he's watching the rain. There's a book open on his lap but he's not actually reading it. The rain, this sort of rain, reminds him of Fall in Virginia, meetings in D.C and a sea of black umbrellas. No umbrellas here. He got soaked hoofing it up to the compound for breakfast supplies, dried ( Read more... )

In a contest between the island and Quanitco, the island wins on several fronts...The weather is better. He has a porch to drink coffee on. He's always been an early riser, through nature and, later, by necessity, but, here, life has a slower pace. He sits on his porch and drinks his coffee. Later, there's the school, a run. Time spent with ( Read more... )

It feels like he's been struggling to breath, all day. The rings have barely any weight in his pocket but they feel like they're dragging him down. He could never feel anything but love for Haley but, suddenly, it feels like the weight of her memory is drowning him. And he can't deal with anymore. He absolutely cannot ( Read more... )

He knows that it's a dream, but that doesn't make it any better. In the dream, he can't move, can't speak, can't anything, but Foyet's there, moving around, and he knows what's coming, he knows, and he can't do anything to stop it, just lie there and bleed on the apartment floor and wait for the inevitable to start playing out and he breathes ( Read more... )

If we could sell our experiences for what they cost us, we'd all be millionaires - Abigail van Buren.
Enough is enough. Hotch has pieced together whatever the hell happened to him last weekend, and he's taken stock of the damage. He likes being with Pepper Potts, counts himself very lucky to have the opportunity. He thinks he can claim to know ( Read more... )

A borrowed bed and a now familiar body beside him. Last night was incredible (though fraught with moments of difficulty; he'd never had a Valentine's day with anyone but Haley before) and Hotch stirs slowly, rolling towards the heat pouring off Pepper's skin. He reaches out with one hand and finds the bare curve of her waist above the sheet, ( Read more... )

When it happens for the fifth time, Hotch actually stops and takes notice. They've been sitting in the rec-room for the best part of an hour in companionable silence. Thoroughly bucking the infamous Spencer Reid effect, Martha's taken up residence on the same sofa as Reid, her head resting on his knee and, as Hotch watches, Reid adjusts his ( Read more... )