I'm watching "Ashes and Dust", S2 Ep19 of Criminal Minds and I can't help thinking that Hotch often offers to be with fire victims or "help" the bereaved. And that he told Gideon it's okay for him to do it "again"!!! In another episode he once ran into a burning house, Morgan freaked out it, but Hotch didn't hesitate for a second.
I can also understand that he lied to Mrs Cutler in "Ashes and Dust" to take away her emotional pain, when the doctors knew she wouldn't survive, and it makes him very approachable and human to me.
I also have to think of a cannon from @masterwords that Hotch lost his sister in a fire, when he was a kid. Of course there is zero explanation in the show, but I find it exciting to think about possible reasons. Please go and check their work out, it's amazing! [unpaid ad]
Your daydream was interrupted by JJ’s question. You lift your head and JJ, Prentiss and Garcia are looking at you curiously.
”I’m fine.”
You're careful to keep your tone even, but it does nothing.
“Are you sure about that?”
Prentiss lifts a brow and you sigh, dropping the pen on the desk. The second you got the slip from Hotch you’ve been distracted.
“I have another joint case with the Las Vegas Police Department.”
“And that’s bad?” Garcia asks.
JJ and Prentiss seem to already evaluate why you’re so distracted.
They both take a seat and Garcia is more than ready for the inside scoop. She pulls a chair herself.
“I’m just..confused..”
“Confused about what exactly? An attractive intelligent man hitting on you?” Prentiss asks.
You stare in shock and JJ laughs at your expression.
“We knew the second you came back and stopped ranting about that supervisor. It wasn’t hard to put it together.”
If you were being that obvious you’re almost mortified now. If they figured it out then Spencer definitely knew.
“Don’t worry, Spencer is just as oblivious as you when it comes to these things. He has no idea.” JJ assures.
That’s actually a relief.
“H-Hey!”
Garcia giggles.
“It’s your character flaw. You can break down a case, but not the more finer things. It might be hereditary.”
They seem amused and you just sulk in your seat.
“What am I supposed to do?”
You’re not sure how to face him and act nonchalant after the encounter.
“It depends, do you like him?”
“N-No! He drives me crazy. He keeps questioning my work, he doesn’t like to admit it, even when I’m right and he says the most ridiculous things that are actually sometimes pretty sweet..”
You trail off and they exchange a look.
“So you really like him.”
You groan, dropping your head on the desk.
“This is going to suck.”
They just laugh.
The trip to Las Vegas felt like it just flew by.
Another murder case, one the sheriff was apparently paying close attention to. When you get on the scene, Sara and Grissom are already collecting all that they can. You’d read the witness statements on the way and did a preliminary evaluation on the suspect the police currently have in custody.
Sara is the first one that spots you making your way behind the yellow tape as you walk into the house where the body is currently laying.
A young woman.
“Good to see you again.”
You nod.
“I wish the visits were under more desirable circumstances.”
Grissom is second to notice and he looks over, glasses perched on his nose. Despite all the coaching you did to remain professional, the second your eyes met, that seemed to rush right out the window.
Unconsciously you lick your lips and he just watches you for a moment, the way he does when he exams something he’d like to solve. It makes you feel a bit bashful to be so carefully studied. You quickly divert your gaze.
“Catch me up.”
You state, ready to hear all that they’ve gotten so far.
The rundown is quick.
Gunshot wound to the back of the head.
From the wound as well as blood splatter, it’s clear that she’d been killed somewhere else.
Grissom informs you that they’d done their preliminary and he gives his insights before the body is taken away to be examined.
For the next hour they gather as much as they can before you’re all off again.
When you’d all made it to the morgue, the evaluation leaves a lot for thought.
Despite the obvious, there’s marks on both her wrists and ankles, as if she’s been restrained. All of which had been carefully covered before by her clothing.
“These aren’t the only marks we found. Superficial bruises on her gluteus maximus as well as similar healed bruising on her throat, over her eyes as well as along inner thighs.” Your gaze hardens at the doctor’s assessment.
“She was sexually abused?” Grissom questions.
“That was my first thought as well. But the kit came back negative. What I did find was a contraceptive.”
Your brows furrowed.
“She prepared?”
That doesn’t make much sense.
“Not just that.” She moves to the table and you watch as she holds up a sheet of paper, handing it to Grissom.
“There were pieces of leather remnants on her wrists. The trace came back and you’d never believe what we found.”
You’re a bit confused and Grissom simply looks like he understands better.
“Thank you.”
The doctor nods with a smile and you follow him out as he takes off as if on a mission.
“Are you going to share with the class?”
“You’ll know soon enough.”
Great, another riddle.
You’re both on the road again. When you step out the car you look around and the building Grissom heads for doesn’t truly answer any of your questions. He’d made a few calls before you left, so you’re not surprised that the people at the reception desk expect you.
“We’re devastated to hear about what happened to Ms. Harper. Anything we can do to help.”
The woman seems very cooperative.
You adjust the camera around your neck.
“We’d like to see the room she frequently used.”
“Yes, of course, follow me.”
Grissom sends you a look as you both follow her down the hall. As you walk through, the many doors are a bit lost on you. This looks like any other high end establishment. When you get to the desired room, the woman unlocks it, turning to the both of you with a sly smile.
“If you’re interested we’re very discreet about our clientele.”
She sends an awfully suggestive look to Grissom before excusing herself. With his kit in hand he enters and you prepare for a pristine office, but what you get is something completely different. The door closes and your face is possibly every shade of red.
“I-Is this a….”
“Sex room. Yes. The bruises found on our victim were not from any altercation. She had some very specific taste. It’s possible that one of her regular attendants could be our killer.”
He moves through the room and you swallow at the many whips, collars, chains and other erotic items around the room. He chooses a spot to begin his work.
You’re still a bit thrown off. You’re positive you’ve never been this flustered in your life. You can’t understand how he could be so casual about this. Then again, he’s probably seen worse.
“Make sure you photograph everything.”
You jolt out of your daze.
“Y-Yes!”
You practically scramble away and Grissom hides a small smile as he gets back to it.
For the next hour you’re logging everything of potential interest. You’d move to the corner with the few rows of stands that have an array of items. You can’t seem to really grasp it. You’ve never really considered venturing in this direction.
For a moment you lower your camera, reaching for one of the leather cuffs. You turn your hand once it’s around, as if to check the size and compare your hand with that of your victim, maybe understand when they were made, or what the appeal is.
You intend to just lightly close the metal, but it clasps shut and you flinch when you tug and it doesn’t release.
“N-No way..”
This could not be happening.
You pull and pull but it doesn’t give way, when you look over, the desk seems to hold a small container of keys but it’s at least ten feet away.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
This is embarrassing enough.
“You’ve gotten more involved in roleplay I see.”
Grissom’s voice makes your cheeks color.
“I-It’s not like that! I-I was just trying to understand the time frame of her bruises and the damn thing locked me in.”
He chuckles, easily spotting the keys, strolling over there with his kit in hand. He places the kit down and grabs the keys. As he’s making his way back over you’re still fighting against the restraints.
“If you keep pulling you’re going to bruise.”
You frown.
“How the hell do people even like this? It’s so primitive.”
Grissoms just wears a smile, and as he gets closer, you become more aware of how scandalous this situation is. You’re at his mercy in a sense. Chained to this structure.
He’s now standing right before you and the difference in height makes you swallow. He looks down at you, taking it all in. You’ve stopped resisting, lips parted, eyes solely on him, arm still in a lifted position from your predicament.
“BDSM is about power. Some people enjoy holding it, others enjoy being at the mercy of it. Regardless of the position, all of those engaged have control over what they want, what is done. For many it’s an escape from the things in their life they can’t control. For others…”
He moves in, and the lack of distance makes your mind go blank. He lifts both hands to free you, his lips a breath away.
“It’s the thrill, the racing in your chest when your partner has you completely captured..”
He’s right about one thing, your heart is indeed racing. You're dazed, and just for a second you assume he’ll close the distance. The click of your restraint echoes and he steps back as you stumble, your hand now free.
“We should get going. There’s a lot of work to be done.”
He turns, moving to grab his kit and you straighten your suit with a shaky breath.
“Damn him.”
This is actual torture.
For the next few hours you’re hard at work. Grissom is working the evidence with Sara. Nick and Warrick have stopped by for a bit of guidance, as well as to observe the progress on your case.
Grissom has presented a theory and he seems very sure the murder was done during one of the victim’s ‘sessions’. You haven’t ruled it out. It’s obvious that she was moved.
You know that much.
“Whoever did this, completed it in close quarters. According to the abrasions under her eyes, she was blindfolded first. This was someone she trusted. They were seated, and so was she.”
Grissom takes a seat on the chair he’s staged in the center of the room.
“So he had a chair adjacent to her?” Nick asks.
Grissom shakes his head.
“Not adjacent. He sat first, she sat second.”
Warrick looks curious.
“She sat in his lap? That’s pretty ballsy.”
“It explains the bruises on her inner thighs. Her body gave way when she died, so he had to physically move her, that’s why they were superficial. He added a little extra force than usual.”
Grissom makes motions with his hands as if to mimic the weight and action. Warrick grins.
“Nick, maybe you should help him out.” He nudges. Nick laughs and Sara puts her finger on her nose.
“Not it.”
They all laugh and even Grissom smiles at the antics. When their focus changes to you, well, you know it’s trouble.
“Maybe we should have our profiler do a bit of roleplay.” Warrick states.
You know he’s teasing, and from the looks you know they don’t expect you to actually do it. But you feel a need to prove yourself, especially after your little incident.
“Fine! I’ll do it.”
You march over and Grissom seems a bit impressed. Warrick and Nick are snickering and Sara shakes her head with a laugh. Now standing in front of Grissom, you’re determined. He opens his arms and you climb on, legs straddling him.
Instinctively you press closer to avoid falling and when you’re situated, you meet his eyes, as if waiting for instruction. He’s looking right back at you with that gaze that seems to penetrate you right to your soul. Your pulse once again has gotten a mind of its own.
“Close your eyes.”
“W-What! Why?”
“Blindfold.”
He gestures around your eyes.
You’d rather not, but you’ve already volunteered, so you might as well commit. Closing your eyes, you keep your hands steady on his shoulders. Without your sight you seem to be aware of so much more.
Like how broad his shoulders are, or how good it feels to be this close. His hands move down to your thighs, and you bite your lip to prevent any sounds from escaping. His hands are big, they seem to easily slip under each thigh. Unconsciously you tighten your grip on his shoulders, back arching.
“Good job, we got him.”
His words make your eyes open, and before you can question it, he stands with an almost victorious laugh with you still in tow. Clearly you're caught by surprise, the fear of falling imminent, but he easily manages your weight with a palm gently pressed to your back and your gaze once again meets his. He says nothing, just watches you for a moment before he places you gently on your feet.
“Thank you.”
That’s all he says before he’s diving back into the evidence.
You’re not sure what to say.
An hour later you’re arresting the spouse.
Apparently he’d caught wind of his wife’s extracurricular and decided to put an end to it before his reputation was compromised. Grissom was proud to report that moving the body was the husband’s biggest mistake.
Now with your criminal behind bars, everything feels right.
Warrick and the others have wrapped up their individual cases, bidding their goodbyes.
You’re the last to see Grissom.
You’re not sure how, but the second the door closes he seems to know it’s you, because he’s wearing that smile again. Like he can read your mind.
“Listen, I think we should talk.”
You need to set a few things straight.
“This little game you’re playing, I’m not interested. You’ve had your fun, proved your point. I’m clueless and inexperienced when it comes to certain things. I can admit that. What I don’t like is being someone’s puppet.”
“Who said anything about being a puppet?”
You frown.
“Don’t play dumb. You keep doing these little things that make me-”
“Make you what?”
He stands, and suddenly you don’t feel as sure. He slides his glasses off easily, placing them on the desk.
“Nothing I’ve done has been a game.”
You hate how such simple words make you so happy on the inside. His approach is slow and with each step, you can feel your defenses lowering. This man, he infuriated you.
“I question you because I want to understand what you do. My job is figuring out the how, the why has never been of much importance to me. Yet it works for you. I’d like to know more, apply it in a way that works with my evidence. What better way to learn than from the best.”
He stops, now looking down at you and your gaze wavers.
“You’re an amazing woman, and I’d be lying if I said that I don’t appreciate it, your perspectives, insights, presence..”
The last part is mumbled and you’re almost certain your legs will give out.
“I apologize if this makes you uncomfortable. If you’d like me to keep our meetings strictly professional then I respect that decision.”
You should say it, explain that professional is the only route forward. But when he looks at you that way, it almost makes you forget how truly deficient you are in this area. How much you really have missed because he looks about ready to ravish you and all you seem to think about is what it would feel like if he indeed decided to slam you against the wall and steal your breath away.
“I..I..”
You can’t form a coherent word, much less a sentence.
“Yes?”
He encourages.
You swallow, and he simply smiles, hands gently cupping your cheeks.
“I’ll be gentle since it’s your first time.”
He’s teasing you again, you know that. You should yell at him, but he closes the distance and any retaliation disappears because his lips are so soft and he smells so deliciously tantalizing. It must be aftershave, because he’s said on more than one occasion that he doesn’t wear cologne.
Messes with the evidence.
You moan, hands gripping his shirt as he gently pushes you to the wall. Your back makes a soft sound and his hands change direction, gently running down your body. One lands on your waist, sliding up your back to pull you flush against him. You gasp when his lips part for a moment only to reclaim yours, this time his tongue has taken control.
You whimper, bashful with your own inexperience. Grissom gently coaxes you to follow his lead and you do so, getting a bit light headed.
Maybe he realizes, because he pulls away this time and you pull in a shaky breath. His lips have changed direction, now trailing over your skin. He presses a kiss to your neck, then another and another, slowly caressing you.
You’re convinced that you no longer have the ability to speak, because all that seems to escape you are desperate moans.
Veronica Sterling: My father always treated me like I wasn't capable because I'm a woman.
Me: Same.
Veronica Sterling: My father always acted/treated me differently in public than in private to protect his image.
Me: Same.
Veronica Sterling: My father always listened to others opinions over mine, even when I knew best.
Me: Same.
Veronica Sterling: I became driven and felt the need to be the best in the hope that my father would treat me with the respect I deserve (he never did).
Me: Same.
Veronica Sterling: My father always prioritised power over anything else in life. Everything and everyone were just pawns for him to use to get to the top—including me.
Me: Same.
Veronica Sterling: I push people away when bad things happen because my relationship with my father taught me unhealthy coping mechanisms, and as a result, I don't know how to deal with trauma.
Me: Same.
Veronica Sterling: My father was secretly a serial killer.
Me: Okay, you've lost me there! Praying my father isn't a serial killer.
#lana del rey
#cats of tumblr
#horror movies
#photography
