#fbi fic

[chartreuseblueandyellow]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

“We riding together?”

“What?” Maggie asked, pulling her jacket on.

“My family's holiday party?” OA reminded with a smile.

[stefanmikaleson1864]

To Much Weight

Maggie X OA 

This takes place after the events of Season 7 Episode 8 So if you haven’t watched it don’t read for spoilers ! I also wanna say Dick Wolf pissed me off with that ending because Maggie would never just leave, I feel like it was a attempt at poor and lazy writing. So this is my attempt at what I think fits them more

The car ride back to the field office was quiet. OA was sitting in the passenger seat not talking not moving just looking out the window.

 His face has no emotions on it, just blank and ghostly white. He didn’t look sad, he didn’t look hurt, he just looked empty. Which just seemed a lot worse than feeling anything at all. Where did he put it, what was he feeling ? 

Maggie didn’t say anything to him. She was stiff in her driving. Her muscles were tense with the feeling that she let down her partner

. If only she showed up a few moments early OA wouldn’t have to bear the weight that he was the one who pulled the trigger. 

Maybe Maggie could have also convinced Clay to put the gun down. She could have trapped him, she could have talked him out of it.

OA just barreled  so fast in there she couldn’t help but think if they had a more in set plan what could have been different. 

They reached the Office in what seemed like forever. Both itching to get out of this car.

To just get some fresh air and take a moment for themselves. Needing to de compress for a moment and process. But Maggie also knew that OA shouldn’t be alone for to long. 

OA had a bad habit of just holding things down and pushing people away. His parts of being the only son, the military, and just his flat out nature.

He always took on the worlds problem like a suitcase just carrying them but never gave any of it away or put it down. 

So as soon as they got out they both quietly made their way up to the offices.

OA made his was to his desk and just sat there looking into the oblivion. The same thing he did in the car, his face never changing. 

Maggie walked over to her desk. She thought about starting on some paperwork but the moment didn’t seem right.

She couldn’t stop glancing over at her partner. Her heart aching to go over and talk to him. 

She figured now she should walk over before he decided to just run up and bail or Isobel came over to him.

She walked over and sat down in the chair in front of him. 

OA didn’t break into just staring but Maggie slowly read his face trying to see anything but there was just nothing which made her stomach drop even more by now she thought something would have started bubbling. 

She slowly reached out and took his hand and gave it a little squeeze.

The movement made OA snap out of it and he slowly turned his head and looked at Maggie sitting in the seat. 

His face just kind of dropped and he gave her a soft look. 

“Hey I’m Here” Maggie said.

OA moved his lips to say something but then they just dropped again unsure of what he wanted to say. 

Maggie jumped in for him so he didn’t feel the pressure to do so. 

“OA you know you did nothing wrong” Maggie said soflty to him. 

OA locked eyes with her and just kept reading her face for some sort of answer he was looking for. 

“Maggie I killed the guy who saved my life” OA said his voice breaking a little. 

“No hey you look at me” Maggie said gripping her hand a little tighter on his hand. 

“You did the right thing you saved lives, you got justice, Clay made his choice he knew what he was doing was wrong and he still wanted to drag you down with him. But you are better than that” Maggie said.

“I have a obligation to him Maggie” OA said in a more angrier tone. 

“No Omar You listen to me right now okay you have a obligation to no one but yourself and you did the right thing, you are who you are a good person who helps peope who does the right thing and no one not even Clay can take that away from you” Maggie said. 

OA didn’t say anything he looked like he was just taking in the moment and what she told him.

He wasn’t sure about what she said. Clay always had a wild streak, he always played by his own rules but does that justify him dying over it ? 

“He was just scared and panicked and I should have tried to talk to him there was things that I could have done differently and I have to live with that” OA said 

Maggie gave OA a confused look, she shouldn’t be surprised he felt this way but she was in the moment she just hated hearing him talk so bad about himself. 

“Clay committed multiple crimes he lied and he stole and he used you for his own personal gain. He could have done things differently OA he could have not you, you are not responsible for his actions” Maggie said in a stern voice hoping to get her point across. 

OA really wasn’t easing up on this one and it was hard to blame him. The events of the night just happened and it was going to take time for him to process everything that happened. Maggie couldn’t blame him to much on that one. 

Her biggest hope is that he listened to the words she told him and didn’t just pick up another suitcase along the way. 

“Hey come let’s go” Maggie said She said smiling at him. 

“Let’s go we need drinks and you not gonna be alone right now” Maggie said 

Maggie got up and walked over to grab her jacket and bag. OA got up to following her lead. 

“So your buying right” OA said finally breaking a smile. 

“As long you promise to drive me home after” Maggie said laughing 

“I don’t have a choice do I” OA said laughing 

“No” As the two of them walked out of the offices together. 

They got on the elevator and OA looked over at Maggie giving her a soft and grateful look. He knew deep down she was right it was Maggie Bell after all. He trusted her with his life. 

OA was always grateful they had each other's backs on and off the field.

[stellaseverides]

right so i’m 15k words into a bangel x fbi fic and idk if I should post it when it’s complete as a huge one shot or to chapter it. what do people prefer to read? chapters or all at once?

let me know bangel lovers

[littlesolo]

FBI Fic - Child Like

Summary: Isobel is desperate to find an alternative ending for the sentence Maggie just started... Crack fic attempting to make better sense of S6.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[marshyswagswag]

Intrusive Chapter 1:

I’ve decided to start a new series where I turn the screenplay I’m writing into a piece of more traditional writing because I think a lot of people on here would enjoy it!

It’s based around FBI agents, slow burn, kinda angsty and I try to add a touch of comedy just to level out the sadness :)

Here we go...hope you enjoy!! :)

Word count: 2.2K

Characters: Callie Keys, Jacob Stevens and Ian Fender (all my original characters)

Whatever shell remains of Jacob Stevens sits slumped in the passenger seat of Callie's car. He doesn’t bother to look her way as she talks at him; ranting about her day and the new case she’d been assigned to work on.

After leaving the FBI last spring, he could care less for any sort of conversation around the subject, yet he would never tell that to Callie. He lets her drone on about whatever case she’s working on or maybe even one that one of her colleagues was working.

Stevens squints his eyes, making the streetlights dance in the dark. He’d done this since he was a child; he had many tricks like this up his sleeve. They came from years of dissociating from his surroundings and ignoring whatever was being said to him.

“The director assigned me to the case. My success rate was high last year.” Callie drones, fully aware that Stevens won’t acknowledge her.

Stevens picks at his fingernails, smelling the bleach and hand sanitizer residue from his lab coat. His feet ached from standing all day and his eyes could barely stay open. 

It’s sad to say but this was his routine. Escaping from work half-alive, Callie acting as his chauffeur, choking down what he could into his exhausted body then collapsing in his bed for upwards of ten hours. 

Today was one of the long days at the lab. It was a fight to keep his eyes open in the darkroom as he tested for traces of blood and developed film found at a crime scene. 

It would be better if he lived alone, he thought as Callie turned down the final street in their journey home.

Stevens doesn't see it, but soon after the gentle sway of the car, there’s a crash.

Both of their bodies are jolted forward, the crash not severe enough for the airbags to deploy. Callie throws one arm in front of Stevens’ chest as a suburban mom might do, not being of much help. 

“Are you okay?” Stevens shouts anxiously.

“I’m fine, you?”

“What did we crash into?” Stevens asks as if the haziness was from the crash.

“I don’t know.” Callie says, “Grab my bag.”

Stevens unbuckles his seatbelt before reaching into the back seat of the sedan. He struggles to find Callies black duffle bag in the dark car, but eventually is able to grasp it, feeling the hard polyester on his stiff hands.

Once given the bag, Callie calmly rifles through it to locate her gun and flashlight. She barely mutters an apology when her flashlight shines right in Stevens’ face.

Stevens gets out his phone flashlight, which is dim compared to Callie’s, but is still fully functional.

They both get out of the car, silently, years and years of working together preparing them for this moment.

With their backs to either side of the car, the two begin to survey the dark area, uncovering their surroundings. Directly in front of their car is another; no sign of functional head or tail lights, bumper to bumper. 

Callie’s flashlight illuminates a short, red-haired man assessing the damage done to his car. She recognizes him immediately. 

Stevens turns on Callie’s brights and begins to walk down the street; seeing what must be at least five cars piled up, bumper to bumper.

“Ian?” Callie calls, the man meeting her in between their two cars.

“How fucking ironic, right?” He calls back, unable to take his eyes off Stevens who is still assessing the situation.

“Why are your tail lights out?”

“They weren’t when I left. I must not have seen them go out.” Ian says casually, obviously unaffected by this.

“It looks to be a five-car pile up.” Stevens reveals, standing next to Callie and actively ignoring Ian.

“Dr. Jacob Stevens, this is Special Agent Ian Fender.” Callie says, with a smile almost hidden behind the stress. 

“Ironic, right?” Ian asks. 

Stevens nods, giving him a faux smile to hide his disinterest. 

Immediately after the introduction, Stevens heads back into his own world, treating the scene like an investigation. 

He walks through the pile of cars; all bumper to bumper, seemingly attached in some way. Callie’s car is the only one with headlights and the drivers at the front of the crash have already left. 

The car at the  front of the crash is pulled up to the stoplight. The passenger was probably waiting at a red light when the second car came and drove right into it. 

Stevens could see insurance information written on a sticky note on the windshield of the first car. Maybe the driver wasn’t in the car at the time of the crash, but that seemed unlikely. 

The second car had no insurance information to be found. 

It’s plausible that this is all a big coincidence, but the lump in his throat suggests otherwise. 

The second car's tail lights are either off or not functional, but before Stevens can check them, he’s interrupted. 

“Doctor, huh?” A voice calls from behind him. 

Stevens turns around to find Ian approaching him from behind. 

All Stevens can manage to choke out is a hesitant “Yeah.” 

“Left your job at the FBI to work forensics?” Ian asks genuinely. 

“It seems you know me, but I don’t know you.” Stevens remarks, continuing his investigation. Still, Ian follows him. 

“I’m Callie’s partner on the Wanaka case,” Ian adds, “I used to work forensics too.”

Stevens stops at this addition, relaxing a bit. “Forensic scientist to profiler.” Stevens asserts on behalf of Ian. 

“Tech analyst, actually.”

Stevens gets a bitter taste in his mouth, the kind you get with an old memory you’d rather forget. 

Stevens pauses again; almost like he’s going to say something, but he stays quiet. 

He looks at his phone; 10:30, it’s no use staying here. 

“Nice meeting you, Ian.” Stevens mumbles, making his way back to Callie’s car. 

“You as well.” Ian replies in a bad Australian accent. 

“We’re lucky to be close to home.” Callie says, taking her phone away from her ear, “All of the tow trucks are out of service after 10.”

Stevens nods, collecting his belongings from the back seat. Callie does the same. 

Stevens’ eyes are wide open now though his stride is still fatigued. His clothes are beginning to feel irritable and the weight of his messenger bag makes his shoulders droop. 

“Fender!” Callie calls as her and Stevens make their way towards their apartment. 

“What’s up?” He answers. 

Stevens takes the lead with his flashlight; Callie knowing it’d be idiotic to sport her gun on the street in the middle of the night. 

“How far is your place?” She calls again even though Ian isn’t too far. 

Ian calculates, looking around at the street signs, “About six miles. Any luck getting a tow?”

“They’re closed after 10.” Callie says with remorse in her voice; “You can crash with us, our apartments only a block up.”

Ian laughs at ‘crash’ before hesitantly agreeing; “Let me grab my bag.”

Stevens and Callie stand next to Ian’s car, waiting while he rifles through the mess inside. 

Out of courtesy, Stevens shines his flashlight in Ian’s direction, revealing a long blood stain running down the left leg of Ian’s grey slacks. 

Stevens jumps back, his eyes widening. Callie takes notice of this too, walking to Ian and whispering something in his ear. Stevens pretends to be on his phone and not listening to their hushed conversation. 

He can’t make it out, but Ian sighs angrily at whatever Callie whispered to him. He takes a moment before rifling through his car once again. He moves slower and more shakily. 

“I think there’s a clinic a couple blocks up—I don’t think any of us can drive you—“ Stevens stutters once Callie and Ian join him on the sidewalk. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Ian interrupts, “I cut my leg on some brush today; it’s an old stain.”

Stevens nods, reading Ian’s fast paced movements as embarrassment. 

The three walk in the moonlight towards Callie and Stevens’ apartment.

Ian spent the walk explaining how he crashed; he was pulling up to the stoplight when he bumped into a car in front of him that had no tail lights. It was completely dark even though it was only 9:30 and the driver in front of him had already left. 

Stevens and Callie’s apartment is small, sporting only two bedrooms, a bathroom and a kitchen. The interior design had been mostly up to Callie, though Stevens initially called the shots. 

The apartment looked typical for two 25 year olds. There’s a couch, coffee table, and TV but not much furniture beyond that. There’s a bookcase that’s only filled about half way and instead of a dining room or kitchen table there are three barstools set up in the kitchen. 

The fridge fit the same stereotype. Milk, cream cheese, maybe some fruit, but nothing else perishable. On the contrary, the freezer was stocked full with frozen meals. 

“Jacob, can you get Ian some clothes to change into?”

Stevens nods, guiding Ian into his bedroom. 

Stevens’ room told the story of someone who hadn’t lived there long, though that was mostly untrue. He had a mattress with no bed frame, a cardboard box as a nightstand and a lamp, but little else. 

His closet was perfectly arranged and neat, his bed made messily with a calendar next to it. 

Stevens gestures to Ian, suggesting he can pick out whatever he wants from the closet. 

Rather than hover over him, Stevens takes a sweatshirt and sweatpants for himself and changes in the bathroom. 

Callie is standing in the kitchen on her phone, eating peanut butter from a bowl when he comes out. 

“Ian; do you want to go over some case notes?” Callie asks.

Stevens sits down at a barstool, trying to finish his bowl of cereal as fast as possible. 

“Won’t be able to sleep, anyway.” He answers, walking out of Stevens’ room.  Stevens’ zip-up hoodie and flannel pants barely fit him; Stevens standing almost five inches taller than Ian. 

Stevens allows Ian to take his spot at the breakfast bar, putting his dish in the dishwasher. 

“Thanks for letting me borrow your clothes, Jake.” Ian says with a mouth full of peanut butter. 

Stevens pauses at “Jake”.  Nevertheless, he pulls himself together and callis back; “No problem” with the last of his energy. 

“‘Night, Jacob.” Callie calls. He gives her a wave. 

Before he reaches his bedroom he hears Ian ask Callie for something to which she replies “Under the sink.”

Lying restlessly in his bed, he half expects to hear Callie and Ian making out, but instead the night is filled with conversation; both serious and lighthearted. 

From the moment Stevens is conscious the next morning, he can feel his heavy body stiffening. His eyes are almost glued shut and his face is wet with tears. 

He decides to ignore the pain, walking out of his room on autopilot. 

Stevens looks at the couch; Ian’s make-shift bed already cleaned up. His blanket is folded, pillow on top. 

Already full of energy, Ian greets him in the kitchen with a fresh cup of coffee. “You look like you need it,” he jokes. 

“Thanks, Ian.” Stevens says, noting the empty cup of coffee in the seat next to him, probably Callie’s, “How long did you guys stay up?”

“We crashed around 1am. It’s a tough case.”

“I’ve heard.” Stevens drones, upset he has to endure a conversation about the work he left. 

“Yeah. I’m supposed to go down there today to check out the security cameras, but it doesn’t look like I’ll be going anywhere.”

“Mm.” Stevens mumbles, barely able to process Ian’s words until his second cup of coffee which he makes sure to thank him for. 

Callie emerges from her room, fully dressed and ready for the day, yelling at Stevens to get dressed. 

Stevens goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth. 

He stares at his face in the mirror: dry and swollen. His eyes droop lower than usual, the bags under them starting to gain definition. 

Stevens bites his lip, frosting his toothbrush and nearly choking on the overpowering toothpaste. 

He leans against the wall as he brushes his teeth; taking notice of the box of tampons next to the toilet and the Advil on the counter. 

After he’s brushed his teeth, Stevens pops an Advil into his mouth, swallowing it along with water in his cupped hand. 

The three of them walk back to the pileup, this time in broad daylight.

Callie and Ian try to tell Stevens some story about some case they worked on a few months ago, but all Stevens can do is watch Ian fiddle with his outfit; borrowed from Stevens. 

The pants nearly fall right off of him, barely held up by his belt. Good thing he didn’t need shoes. Ian’s wearing glasses today; similar to the wire ones Stevens wears on a daily basis. He must wear contacts, Stevens thinks. 

They all stop when they get to the scene; Stevens the last to look up. 

The pileup looks artificial. Lime green spikes impaled into the tail lights of each car. Well, each car except Callie and Stevens’. 

Shielding his eyes from the sun, Ian looks to Callie. He knows they’re nothing thinking the same thing. 

This was a set-up.

[chartreuseblueandyellow]

The Disaster in the Date

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65939974

He smiled softly at her, but that changed into a grin as he added, “besides, I can use it to my advantage given that I -” he leaned into Maggie’s space. “Like octopus.”

Gemma watched, astonished, as Omar very comfortably speared a few pieces from Maggie’s plate and ate it, the other woman unbothered, as if it were a common occurrence.

Was it?

[littlesolo]

FBI Fic - In the ON and OFF Hours

Chapter Twelve: Team Building

Summary: Team building exercises somehow manage to achieve the opposite.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[littlesolo]

FBI Fic - In the ON and OFF Hours

Chapter 5 - Wardrobe Mishap

Summary: The ending of a case is always a good thing, but expected press conferences can be a problem when you run out of spares.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works