summary: yet another angsty alex fic because i love the idea of just doting on her and being the one to take care of her for once. set immediately after 9x20 blood relations.
content: near drowning, hurt/comfort, unsub related fear, autistic!alex, gasping/lack of air, mild fear of water. fem!/nb reader, angry/concerned reader. reader is angry at the team but not angry at the team. just concerned for their gf really. hair washing, cussing, reader drops the f bomb like a lot, justified imo.
"Where is she?!"
The growl issues forth from your throat before the doors of the local station even fully swing open for you. How you'd found out, and how quickly you'd gotten here is irrelevant. All that matters is you're here now.
Aaron's is the first face you see and his doesn't help to calm you, to tame the anger masked worry on your face. He steps away from the officer, quickly excusing himself, to turn to you. He doesn't offer excuses, a credit to him, and he doesn't attempt to stop you.
"She's with JJ right now. She's okay."
Okay. Okay is a fucking understatement. Almost drowing at the hands of an inbred sociopath doesn't even come close to the definition of okay.
You shove past him, had he tried to stop you you would have shoulder-checked him and he would have let you, he would have allowed anyone to in this circumstance.
"How are you doing?"
Jennifer's voice lilts through the hallway as you stalk closer, and it sounds like a prompt, like she's asking for a real answer, it's not the first time she's asked.
And then you hear it. The voice that matters to you more than anyone else here, you loved the team, of course, but not the way you loved her. You hear Alex.
"I just..." Her voice breaks, shatters like stone, and it nearly sears your broken heart, "i couldn't breathe!" She sounds like she's fighting, clawing for air, and you want to burst in right now, to interrupt, but that wouldn't be fair, not to JJ, and not to her. It's Alex who needs this moment.
"We sent thirty bullets into that water." JJ's tone is soft, soothing, "Alex, he's dead."
You don't listen to what Alex might have said next, because it's then you make your presence known.
"He better fucking be."
Your growl, the snarl, it's poison on your own tongue, your hatred for a dead man, he'd better hope he was dead at least. Because if you got your hands on him...
"Oh god."
Alex breathes, knees buckling at the sight of you, the sound of your voice, you'd never seen her like this, so scared, not in all the time you've known her, she's been scared before, but not like this.
JJ rushes to keep her standing and you meet her halfway, accepting Alex's weight as your own. Your hand tangles in her damp hair, and you can smell the mildew and damp sock smell immediately.
"Oh god." She repeats, sobbing into your shoulder, a rare display of public fragility. She normally keeps everything inside so well, that seeing her like this, while not surprising to her co-workers, sends ripples of worry in them. "Oh god I'm sorry."
"No." You bark, harsher than you'd intended. "No." You repeat, softer now, "Don't. It's okay. I'm here. I'm right here."
"So scared." She mumbles against your shoulder, and she's gone, she can't hold the mask in place anymore, after tonight, no one could have expected her too. "I was so scared."
"I know. I know, you're safe now. I promise."
Your eyes find JJ's, a look passing between you, you need her help, to get Alex out of here and back to the hotel. She won't leave unless everyone else does, she won't rest until the case is done.
"Well, I am beat. I think i'm gonna head back to the hotel and check in with my boys. You guys should do the same. Derek and Spence left already, and I think Hotch is wrapping up."
Alex nods and you sigh internally in relief. One arm wraps around her middle, though she's perfectly capable of walking herself, she lets you hold her anyway. Needing the grounding you always provide.
"We aren't flying out until morning." She mumbles as you both pass by Aaron again, "how did you—"
"Penelope helped me out."
At this, Alex barks a waterlogged laugh that jostles her for a moment too long, and it genuinely scares you.
"Of.." she coughs, "of course she did."
"Easy, easy. Maybe we should go to the ER."
"No." Her whisper is half plea. "Please, no hospitals, I'm fine. I swear."
You don't need to look at her to see her eyes, to know the exact way she's looking at you. And you give in. Of course you do.
"Fine. But if you feel even the slightest bit sick..."
"I'll tell you." She finishes your exact thought. "I promise."
"Alright."
You hum your assent, and the SUV chirps to life from the key fob in your other hand. She grips the door handle and slides into the passenger side without complaint. Normally you wouldn't be allowed to drive a goverment issued vechicle like this, but given the situation, you doubt anyone would stop you. Not even Rossi.
Soon enough the hotel door closes behind you and the lock clicks into place. Alex hasn't really said much since you'd left the station and that was fine, until it wasn't. You need her to talk to you. After what happened, god she has too.
"Are you going to say anything?"
"I just want to take a shower and sleep."
"That's not fucking good enough Alex! I need you to fucking talk to me! You almost fucking died today and all you can think about is a fucking shower?! Jesus Christ!"
She backs away from you just slightly, the backs of her knees hitting the edge of the bedside table inbetween the two beds of the room.
"I don't know what you want me to say..."
"Anything! Alex! Any fucking thing!"
Hot tears swarm down your face and the anger melts away, fear replacing it. You know this about her, that she has trouble communicating, and you get it, you really really do. But god sometimes you just hate it. You hate it when she can't tell you anything, can't or won't.
Alex shrugs, slumping down on the first available bed and drops her head into her hands.
"I tried to shoot." She murmers at last, "my gun went off, I saw blood, I must have grazed him. He pulled me under with him... I couldn't... I couldn't..."
You drop on the bed next to her, guilt swirling in your stomach now, you shouldn't have yelled at her. Not after the ordeal she'd been through.
"I couldn't breathe!" Her nails claw at her throat helplessly and you carefully coax them away. Pulling her into your arms instead.
"I don't know what would have happened if I had missed. If... if my shot hadn't connected. If Morgan and JJ hadn't shown up... I... I was so scared I'd never see you again. Never see anyone again."
"Oh baby, oh honey." You coo, you don't kiss her hair, you're not keen on tasting that water, but you do keep your arms around her. "I'm sorry. I am so sorry I yelled at you. I'm not mad at you Alex, I was scared. So scared. And sometimes I forget how hard it is for you to... to open up. I'm sorry."
You stay like that for a while longer, your apology hangs in the thick, southern air around you, hugging you like smog, before you pull back some, take her face in your hands.
"Let me take care of you. Just for tonight?"
She nods, out of energy, out of words, body and brain shutting down, as you suspected they might. That's alright. You no longer need her to speak, just be alive, alive and safe with you.
You beckon her up, offering your hand, and guide her into the tiny bathroom. Lucky the bureau had sprung from rooms with actual tubs in them. Gently you lower yourself to the side of it, plugging the drain and adjusting the temp.
Alex stands, arms hugging across her lithe frame, damp clothes clinging to her body, wet hair curling around her face and throat.
When you're satisfied you stand up, closing the small distance between you both.
"Come on, can I help you out of these wet clothes?"
"Yeah."
Her consent is a whisper, but it's enough to hear, and slowly you peel her dark blue t-shirt from her chest, unhook her black bra—you don't linger— undo the button on her soaked jeans, and pull them from her legs, her underwear too, throwing them in a pile on the bathroom floor.
"Come on."
You take her hand, lead her toward the bath, but she falters, stops. A whimper spills from her throat, tiny, helpless, near silent.
"Hey..." you whisper, "it's okay. This... this is safe. I promise. I'm right here, and I'll be with you the whole time okay? I won't let you go under. Okay? Trust me?"
"Yeah." She echoes, taking a tiny step, and then another. Slowly you lift one of her ankles, placing her right foot into the warm water, then the other.
"Can you sit for me? So I can wash your hair?"
After another second of hesitation, Alex contemplates just calling this whole thing off, she acquiesces, and coaxes her body to sit.
The water does feel nice, admittedly, and she's surprised that she even relaxes a tiny bit.
"There you go. See. Nothing to be scared of."
You reach for the shampoo, she always brings hers from home, something else about her you'd learned, she hated not having her own supplies, her own things. Tiny routines like her own soap helped soothe her when her mind got too overstimulated.
You pour some into your hand, dipping it into the water to give it some purchase against her hair in a moment, and get to work, working the lather in until the scent of strawberries fills the small room.
You work until your fingers ache, massaging her scalp soothingly, not wanting to stop until you know she's ready. Finally though, you help her lean back, it makes her stiffen again.
"Right here. Remember?"
She hums her remembrance, and allows you to lower her slightly, just enough to rinse her hair. It floats around her in the tub and you're careful not to let it get into her eyes or near her neck.
"Alright. All done. Lets get you comfortable and dry."
You help her to stand and wrap a fluffy white, hotel grade towel around her, drying her hair with the other one left in the room. She likes to let her hair mostly air dry, so you just squeeze the excess water from it and let it be.
"Feel better?"
You ask her, once you're both dressed for bed and slightly more comfortable, with her laying across your chest, and your fingers dancing through her hair softly.
"I do. Thank you. For coming."
"Wild horses Blake, wild horses."
She snorts a laugh, rolling her eyes.
"Garcia tell you that one?"
"As a matter of fact, she did."
You kiss her hair this time, this time it smells like her again, as you chuckle into her scalp. The TV is on in the background, some historical documentary—Anne Boleyn you think— it's one of your shared niche interests, but it mostly just serves as something mindless that can drone on, putting you both to sleep.
"I should have waited for backup, I should have waited for Morgan."
"You were doing your job, Alex, you saved Cissy. You couldn't have known what would happen."
"It's quite literally my job to know."
"You're too hard on yourself."
"Someone has to be."
"And let it be the brass, fuck, let it be Aaron, but it doesn't have to be you. Okay? Let yourself forgive yourself, because you saved that woman's life. That is no small thing. I'm just glad... glad you're still alive to see that."
"You were really scared?"
"Fucking terrifed." You laugh, "If looks could kill, Rossi would be arresting me for homicide on Hotch."
"You should apologize. To all of them."
"I know. I will, but my first priority, always, is you."
"You spoil me."
"Maybe. But you deserve it."
You kiss her forehead, her nose, and finally find her lips, it's not a passionate, lover's kiss. Its sweet, chaste, and soft. All you both need.
"I love you." She says suddenly, "I don't say that nearly as much as I should. I'm terrible. I'm terrible at putting my feelings into words, at communication, which is so stupidly ironic considering I study people's words for a living, my brother, oh it drives him insane, drove my mom crazy too, none of them understood it. Not really, how I could be so good at words, understanding them, the syntax of language, and yet be so bad at expressing my own thoughts and feelings. I wish I were better at it, and I'm trying to be I really am, but sometimes i just can't seem to... to see the world the way everyone else does, sometimes I forget not everyone is so blunt, so straightforward. The world would be so much simpler if everyone just said what they mean, but that's probably asking way too much."
She's rambling again but you don't interrupt.
"So, rather than deal with that, I just... end up not saying anything at all, and that comes off as cold or uncaring, but I do care, a lot. I love my brother, my father, I adored my mother, but I could never find the right way to express that. And I love you, so so much, and it scares me, it scares me because I can't express that the way I know you wish I could, I'm trying, but I dont want you to think that I don't care, that I don't love you, because I do."
"I'm sorry for what I said earlier." Your lips ghost against her ear for a moment. "I know how hard it is for you, to communicate, at least in the way the world thinks you should, but I don't give a damn about what the world wants. Alex, I know you love me, I don't need fancy declarations to know that. I'm sorry that I implied i was angry at you for something you can't help, that was wrong."
"My dad thinks... my brother, they wish I would change, visit more, write more, as much as i wish i could, as much as I want too, I... I forget. Genuinely. I just... forget how much it hurts them, not hearing the words, because they can't, they can't feel it, they can't understand love without words, actions. It's not that I love them less, of course not, but... it would be nice if they could try to understand me, instead of trying to change me."
"I'm sorry." You say again, "I never, never want to change you. I'm sorry I said that. I was just so scared I lost you, that you going silent... god Alex, it scared the hell out of me."
"I didn't mean to frighten you."
"I know you didn't. I know you needed to regulate, and I'm glad you let me help you to do that. Thank you, for letting me take care of you."
"Just don't go around telling people okay?"
She chuckles, nuzzling deeper into your chest, her ear pressed against your ribs, listening to your heart.
"Your reputation is in good hands, I promise."
You tease, smiling to yourself a little. You still can hardly believe this gorgeous woman is yours. That it's you she comes home to after cases, you who she lets see her scared and vulnerable, you who she lets wash her hair. You almost want to pinch yourself to make sure you're not dreaming all of this. Alex Blake. Cunning linguist and badass FBI agent, is your girlfriend. Holy shit right? What had you ever done to deserve that? Deserve her?
You both turn your attention back to the televison, the pretty blonde British historian is telling you about a book of hours, from what Alex had told you, basically it's a book of prayers, meant to be read at certain hours of the day, hence the name. You settle into the explantion, letting the years of old travel you back in time.
When you look at Alex again, a short time later, you're unsurprised to find her asleep, one hand gripping the hem of your shirt.
Your phone's vibration takes you out of your revere. A text from JJ.
Sometimes I think I'm normal about The X-Files and then I remember that they re-used a two second exterior shot from Pilot in The Truth just to parallel the two motel room scenes and I know that because I immediately recognised it on SIGHT
