0000. PROLOGUE
— what the heart yearns for

BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS.
DECEMBER, SEVEN YEARS AGO.

FALLING IN LOVE WITH SPENCER REID WASN'T A CHOICE, RYDER HOTCHNER FIGURED IT WAS A SET-EVENT IN THE GRAND SCHEME OF THE UNIVERSE. Not that she was the one to believe much in fate, but even she knew there were things that science and reason couldn't explain. And as she laid her head on his chest tangled up in a mass of blankets on their shared bed, she couldn't help but question how they had gotten to that point. It was like an instant, like she blinked and suddenly her heart was his. Like two people cut from the same stone, broken and ragged edges that came together perfectly. Ryder Hotchner had never planned on falling in love — she didn't have a good example of it growing up. And no one wanted to date the twelve year old genius, by the time she had turned nineteen she had more degrees than most, it just never piqued her interest. Then she met Spencer and he knew exactly what it was like to grow up like that, with eyes watching their every move waiting to see what amazing thing they would do. Spencer understood her apprehension about love, he did. But he was the very thing that opened up her mind to what it could bring. Like sipping a hot coffee on a really cold day to warm up. Or that moment in movies where everything just goes exactly to plan — that's what falling in love with Spencer Reid felt like.

There was no stopping it, it was an avalanche that started the minute they locked eyes.

Ryder knew in some way she would always be thankful for that, even if it turned out to be something that hurts her. Yet, she likes to think, there was no way that it could. Everything felt so right in their little bubble, Ryder couldn't imagine anything that could change it. They were both young, yet more educated than most people ten to twenty their senior. She stared out at the snow as it fell outside their apartment building, her fingers tracing symbols on Spencer's chest. He was still sleeping, she took to staring at him for a while. Watching as his mouth huffed with breath, lips puffing in and out with it. His chest moving her hand with it, he seemed so peaceful in that moment that Ryder wished she could fall asleep as well. But, she had never been the one to nap. Not that she ever let Spencer know, if he knew that napping wasn't something she did, he would never nap. She enjoyed having him next to her, holding onto him as he got the sleep she knew he deserved. If she made him feel comfortable, she was never going to fight that from happening. Before long, her hand skated up to trace his features. Fingers ghosting across his cheek and the bridge of his nose, before finally combing through his hair. A content hum left his sleeping figure as he stretched out not much unlike a cat. His eyes fluttered open, a tired smile forming on his lips as he spotted his girlfriend, "Have you been up long?"

Ryder wasn't sure what to response with, he had a knack of knowing when she was lying, "I couldn't nap today."

Spencer narrowed his eyes slightly, "Do you ever nap?"

Ryder shrugged, "Does it matter if I do?"

Spencer gave her an incredulous look, hoping for a moment that it said everything. Except the brunette just lifted a brow response leaning onto her hands with a smile. Spencer sat up, "I guess not, but these are supposed to be relaxing for you, not boring."

"It's anything but, Spence," Ryder smiled at him, her hand making its way to his cheek. "Besides, if it means you're taking care of yourself for a few hours of the day, it's not boring. You're cute when you sleep."

Spencer's cheeks flamed a scarlet color in response to her compliment, hazel eyes closing as her hand traveled to his hair, "You're cute all the time, you know."

Looking down at him again, Ryder felt her heart swell within her chest. She had never wanted this — growing up she alabaster avoided reading about love. She couldn't understand what made people want it, not after her parents (she didn't really know how to describe it, she didn't get to see a lot of it before her father died, but she knew it wasn't great based off of the stories Sean used to tell her), and even based off of the short memories she had of Aaron and his wife Haley. At least, she thinks they were married. Maybe not anymore. She could see exactly what their invitations looked like, but she remembered her mother tearing the card up and throwing it away more than anything else. Ryder never had much of an example to depict why love was such a necessary human emotion. Poetry didn't do it justice in her opinion. Perhaps she could equate that to the simple fact that the English language can only explain things in certain ways. And poets had the idea, they did, she understood what they were trying to say now. But, there was something about love that transcended words. Love was indescribable in the way that it changes a person, in a way that poetry can only point to the tip of the iceberg for. Ryder could only explain it to people as this: love is that unexpected rush of happiness that people feel after a dark time in their life. Spencer Reid was a constant in her life, a pillar she knew she would always be coming home to.

That's what love was. She understood it better now why people would fight for it. Why people would lose other things in their life to keep ahold of it. She knew if it came down to it, she would go swinging with a sword to keep her love afloat. Spencer sat up on the bed, his hand tilting the woman's head up by her chin, "I love you."

Smiling, she responded, "I love you too."

A sigh fell from the man's lips as the sound of their apartment landline rang through the place, having to break their bubble to grab the phone and answer it. Ryder let herself fall against the bed, arms stretched out above her as she watched him on the phone. Every other word came across as he spoke, but she knew him like he was her favorite book. Every page, back and forth. She was able to note what every upturn of his lips or the quiver in his breath meant. Ryder was quickly able to figure out the call wasn't a good one — not from the looks of his body language. He was slumped over, shoulders hunched forward and his head was tipped back. If she didn't know any better (and she did, Ryder was a genius who stood tall by her ability to know better than most people) (then again, her having an accelerated academic intelligence did not stand for her being the smartest person in the room) (life skills and street smarts were not her thing), Ryder would have taken his posture as one out of annoyance. But she knew him. As if he were the back of her hand (or at least, she was trying to convince herself of that). Something she had seen and traced over countless times again and again. Spencer Reid wasn't an enigma to her, she had cracked his code. A code that very few were even given the chance to see let alone try to destroy — from what she knew she was only one of two people who was capable of doing so. In fact, she knew him so well that she gathered the call was about the only other person who was able to crack his code. He had a way of dealing with his mother — or rather dealing with her doctors — and it always led to his posture shifting.

Ryder moved to lie on her back, eyes fixated at the ceiling above her. Her fingers toyed with the fringed edges of a blanket resting against the bed. She never wanted to infringe on Spencer's conversations with his mother, especially not since she was placed in care. Diana Reid had been in care the entire time she had known him, meaning their phone calls were limited and varying by the days (depending on whether or not they were a good day or a not so good day). Ryder knew how important his mother was to him and she knew in time he would open up more about how he handles everything like he does, but it wasn't now. And she wasn't going to impose herself into the conversation just to get a little bit more information and feel a little more attached to him. That went without thought for her, she knew if she spoke to any of her four older brothers that Spencer would have given her the same respect of space. She let out a huff, the cold air in their apartment mixing with the hot exhale to create a puff in front of her. The edges of her lips quirked up in response, their apartment was not the most expensive apartment in Boston. After all, they were two broke (not truly broke, after all they both were practically paid to go to school for most of their higher academic lives) graduate (PhD) students that had a housing stipend given to them by their respective schools. These stipends weren't much, not in the prices people typically pay for Boston. They were stuck in an older apartment building with heating that went out almost every other day, even on days like this where snow was falling down and outside the walls it was below freezing. Pulling the blankets up farther against her body, Ryder went to hide her body under the blankets once more, silently wishing that Spencer were there for her to cuddle back up to.

He stuck the phone back on the wall, looking into the bedroom before looking down at the floor. Ryder's eyes were slowly starting to flutter shut, so much for not being somebody who naps, right? Spencer stood in the living room of their apartment for a moment, deep in thought as his girlfriend in the other room was falling asleep. Somehow, despite his status as a genius, he didn't think to stop and wake her up to ask her a question. A question she would likely know the answer to considering she had a medical degree. And yet, he kept himself quiet as he looked into their shared bedroom again. He didn't want to be a burden to her — no, she deserved to have a life free of any burdens. Spencer Reid knew that she had one too many bad things happen to her throughout her life, she deserved someone who would always be able to give her the good. Not someone who could give her another thing that she would have to learn how to get over. Maybe it was self-sacrificial of him to do. But this phone call — his mother sliding farther down even with medical intervention — only solidified his fears that he would be someone weighing her down. Someone that, no matter how hard she would swim and try to get out to deeper waters, would constantly cause her to sink. Because there was no Spencer Reid without his mother, he would forever be responsible for her. And Ryder Hotchner would always be the person who had to deal with being second. She shouldn't be second. Spencer wished that she didn't have to be second in his life. Because she was special, he knew that much. This would be a decision that haunts him forever; he's certain something that keeps him up on nights when the rain is pouring, and thunder is rumbling through the ground. A decision that becomes a recurrent nightmare he wakes up from with a start, drenched in sweat.

Something that he will never be able to take back. Something that will forever change the way she looks at him. The way she thinks about him. A way that ruins their ability, their chances of doing anything with one another once again. This was going to burn down all of the bridges between them; Spencer Reid was bright enough to determine that. But, if it meant she had the chance to find someone who could treat her the way she deserves. Find someone who can put her first every single time. Then, the pain would be worth it for the both of them.

Right?

He hoped that would be the case, because there was no going back. Not with what was going on with his mother — he knew he was going to fly back home and stay there for however long he was needed. Even if it meant putting his PhD on pause. Or transferring to a school closer to Las Vegas. He wasn't going to have Ryder put her life on hold. Not when she was nearly finished with her PhD, not when she had just matched into a residency program. One of the only other things that eased some of his worries, he knew the statistics of how many unmarried couples actually make it through even just one person being in a residency program. She was months away from signing her life away, constantly and consistently being worked to the bone in the hospital with little to no time to herself. Spencer knew that was one of the only things that calmed some of the nerves that were growing within him. Of course, he couldn't believe they would have been part of the statistic. Not when she had changed her top match choice to be close to Quantico so they could live with one another. Fate seemed to have her back that time, unknowing of the future (obviously), when it placed her into the surgical residency program at Hopkins, a two-hour drive from Quantico.

Or, at least, Spencer now thought that date was on his side with this. She wasn't going to be ten minutes away from him. They weren't going to run into one another. Not randomly. Not just by accident. And without him, she would have no reason to leave Baltimore to visit Quantico. And somehow, no matter how much this decision broke him, he would never have to see her again. He would never have to face her; he would never have to see how he broke her. Not unless she asked, because he knew in some way he would always come back when she called. His heart was hers; he suspected it would always have her signature on it, even when he was a long-lost thought in her own mind. His only comfort was the knowledge that they would not randomly bump into one another. Without him as a part of her life, she would have no reason to travel from Baltimore to Quantico, there would be no reason for her to do so. Perhaps it was an odd thought, him being glad that he would not run into the woman he was in love with, but he could only think of it in a self-preservation sort of way. Spencer looked over his shoulder, taking a glance at the sleeping figure of Ryder Hotchner as he put pen to paper. Should he be doing this? He had half the mind to drop it all, to say fuck it to the world and join her as she napped. Yet, he couldn't find himself thinking of doing anything other than helping his mother. Even if it was a decision he would carry with regret for the rest of his life — even if it meant losing one of the few good things he would ever have in his life. And despite his mind screaming stop he continued to write. Scribbling words against a page trying to make his decision seem right. Trying to justify his decision to himself, knowing that it would never be something that she would find peace with.

It wasn't long after he finished the letter, folding the paper and putting her name on the outside of it, that he found himself packing up a bag of all of his things. Everything he knew he would need, leaving behind the things that he would have no care about whatever Ryder decided to do with them. With his bag slung over his shoulder and suitcase behind him, he took a look at their apartment. He closed his eyes, hand holding onto the doorknob, was this the right thing? Suddenly an entire year of memories flashed through his mind. Nights spent studying together, quizzing each other on topics that were far more advanced than what was even going to be on the exams. Nights spent dancing around the kitchen as Ryder cooked (because god forbid if Spencer even stepped close to the stove) and Spencer rambled on about whatever it was he was hyper-fixated on that day. Rainy days spent cuddled up with one another as they read books, their tea getting cold next to them. Snow days spent under a mound of blankets, trying to avoid the harsh cold of their apartment with each other. Countless hours of memories, laughs, smiles, soft touches, that he would never be able to get back. A year's worth of learning how to be a person — of how to be someone more than just a student or the very person they were expected to be. Before he could second guess himself more than he already had been doing, Spencer opened up the door to their apartment for the last time and walked out.

Even if it killed him to do so.

He was long gone by the time that Ryder woke up from her nap (a nap that had seemingly turned into her just catching up on lost sleep) (the sun was up when she went to sleep and was gone by the time she woke up) and for some reason, Ryder Hotchner had a sinking feeling that something was up. The apartment was eerily silent, normally even when it was quiet she could hear Spencer doing something (whether it was the noise of the pages of a book turning, water running from a shower, or even the soft volume of the television from the living room), and it was setting off some of her alarms. If Spencer were leaving to go somewhere he would have woken her up. He always did. That was one of the things she loved about him, how considerate he was. He would always ask if she needed anything while he was heading out or if she wanted to tag along, knowing that after a while of sitting at home she started to get stir-crazy. But he didn't do that this time. Maybe she just didn't wake up when he tried to wake her? That made sense. That eased some of her fears. But they weren't all gone. No, she found herself pushing up to sit on the bed and looking around the room. That's when she noticed the piece of folded paper with her name on it leaning against the vase on the desk. Her stomach jumped to her throat, suddenly she felt sick. A wave of nausea, fear sticking through her bones as she moved her legs to hang off of the side of the side of the bed. Spencer had left her notes before, sure, but they were never folded up and left with her name on them. Something about it made her uncomfortable, especially when she mixed it together with the fact that he looked like something was wrong when he answered the phone call. Was something wrong? Was it something with his mother? Ryder Hotchner let her mind jump through thousands of possibilities, her head being cradled in her own hands as she tried to breathe. Perhaps she was freaking herself out for no reason — perhaps she was overthinking everything like she was known to do.

And even as she stood up to grab the piece of paper, her stomach churned, worsening only when she had the paper in her hands. As she opened it up, recognizing the near chicken scratch that is Spencer's handwriting, her fears rang true. An arrow hitting her where it hurts the most, a shot to her heart that left her wanting to scream. All because of a letter that started with the words Dear Ryder.

Her life was flipped upside down, turned all around and there was no fixing it.

WASHINGTON, D.C.
OCTOBER, 7 YEARS LATER.

IF FALLING IN LOVE WITH SPENCER REID WAS A SET-POINT IN THE GRAND SCHEME OF THE UNIVERSE, RYDER HOTCHNER FIGURED THAT HER HEARTBREAK WAS AS WELL. She figured, despite all of her years of instruction and learning in everything surrounding science, that he was a part of her life to teach her how strong she was. Show her that despite being at her lowest (funny, Ryder thought, she had lost both of her parents and lost contact with her four brothers and yet, what broke her was an indirect break up with the only person she's loved), she could go on to thrive and shine no matter the environment. Of course, she argued, it was different for this. Academics had always been what she excelled in, they were her comfort space. The only thing that brought her compliments, the only place she knew she could outshine others with. The only place that put her above her brothers in her mother's eyes (back when her mother were still here) (that was a whole other story, though), the only place she felt comfortable to shine at. But, even if it was where she felt comfortable shining within, the playing grounds were even. Everyone had gone through medical school, everyone had worked their asses off to get into a surgical residency program. Especially a surgical residency program at John's Hopkins. Sure, she was sure that some things made her stand out, but no matter what everyone else was right on her heels.

Of course, every piece of art can find its way to shine even when surrounded by other beautifully crafted art pieces. And Ryder Hotchner had found that out when she got her trauma surgery fellowship offer from Georgetown. The very city and hospital she had once told Spencer she wanted to do her fellowship in, one that would be closer to him in Quantico. A place where they would be able to share an apartment again, see each other at hours that were at least semi-normal. And while she didn't have that to look forward to anymore, he wasn't a part of her life (the letter that she had kept from seven years ago was enough evidence of that) and she wasn't coming home to him, she still had that dream of Washington, D.C. A dream that had come true. One that felt like it was destined, after all, she found herself making connections and friends that she needed. People that once they entered her life, it felt like she was always missing them with how perfectly they had fit within her life.

Not to mention the fact that all of her brothers were nearby, Ryder felt like it was almost destiny that she would end up in D.C. A part of her wished that she would bump into one of them (whether it be Aaron, Eli, Declan, Sean or even Spencer), something that would allow her to reconnect with her past self. She had yet to do so, perhaps they weren't meant to see each other again. But it didn't stop her from wanting to push their numbers in her phone and hope it was the same as it used to be. She had better sense than to do that, there were a lot of things left unsaid with all five of them and she wasn't sure she was ready to unpack it. Actually, she was sure, she wasn't ready to unpack it.

So, she was fine with her life. She was content with her life as she created friendships and bonds that helped her grow into the surgeon she wished to be. But was content what she wanted out of life? Was Ryder Hotchner meant to be someone who was comfortable with her life, content with everything going on around her? Ryder almost felt like there was something within her that screamed for more. Something that was scratching from within, pulling at the skin between her ribs, trapped in the cage she had placed it within. An animal that wanted to be within the world once more, the very animal she had stored away after her heart had been broken seven years prior. An animal that Ryder Hotchner wanted to forget existed. Because life was easier when she didn't worry about if she had someone to return home to. Someone who could hold her when work was rough. A person who would gently hold her head between their hands, treat her softly, the antithesis to the people she puts up with at work. No, she didn't need that. She didn't want that. Yes, she did. There was no part of her that craved someone in that way, not since Spencer. Yes, actually she did crave having someone again.

Ryder Hotchner was content. That was enough. It wasn't, but the more she tells herself that, the more she believes it, right?

A laugh left her lips as she leaned back on the couch, surrounded by her friends. Jokes whipped through the air between them, a few glasses of wine downed previously among the food that had been eaten on throughout the night. Ryder found herself sitting with her legs tucked beneath her — it wasn't the most comfortable of positions but she was also three glasses of wine in and wasn't thinking about the pain she may be inflicting upon herself the next day. Dalia turned to her, "You're from around here, right?"

Ryder turned to her entire friend group who had apparently pulled their attention over to her, a laugh leaving her lips. The rest of them were from all around the U.S — Dalia was from California, the only one that Ryder knew was from somewhere close (enough) to D.C was Violet (she grew up in North Carolina). She nodded, "Somewhat close, yeah. My mom was from Manassas, she didn't want to move too far away even after she met my father. So we lived close to there, only about 50 minutes from here."

That seemed to pique Calum's interest. With his brows furrowed together, Calum questioned, "Wait, why don't you ever go home if you lived that close?"

Ryder shrugged, taking another sip from the glass in her hands, "My mom and dad are both dead, my brothers are all off doing their own things. No need to go back and relive my childhood."

Clearly taken aback at the fact that he had no idea her parents were dead, Calum was quick to spit out an apology, "I-I didn't."

"It's okay, Cal," Ryder waved him off, "I never told you guys my parents were dead. Besides, even if they weren't, I probably wouldn't go home. I wasn't there for long, I went off to college pretty young."

"Sometimes I forget that you're one of those child prodigies," Violet laughed, head leaning back against the couch. Ryder and the other three also laughed, "No, I'm being honest, I just."

"Violet, she's almost five years younger than I am," Dalia recounted, "and I'm the second youngest of the entire group."

"I know," Violet sighed, waving the blonde off. "I know that she's the youngest but half the time she gives me the best advice out of everyone else here."

"Hey!" Elina objected.

With a playful glare in response, Ryder joked, "I can't help I have a photographic memory, there's a lot of useless knowledge locked in this mind of mine."

"And a lot of very useful knowledge as well," Calum added.

Ryder shook her head, "That's a much smaller percentage of my brain storage."

"Brain storage is a funny way to put that," Elina narrowed her eyes, a laugh leaving her lips. "Maybe it's time to take away the wine from Ry."

"Hey! This is my home and my wine!" Ryder objected against that. "But, I probably do need someone to take it away from me, I'll probably hate myself for the hangover I'll be nursing in the morning."

Violet sighed as she stood up, "I have to get home, Emmy's babysitter is expecting me soon and she's got school in the morning."

"Are you calling a cab?" Calum questioned, smiling when Violet nodded. "Cool, can I take the same one as you and split the cost?"

Violet waved him over, "Of course, I figured we were going to do that anyway. It's about the only good thing we get out of living in the same neighborhood."

"You say that as if you don't call me over to fix things around your house for you," Calum put a hand over his chest in mock-offense.

With a roll of her eyes, "Well, if the hospital isn't going to put your orthopedic skills to use, I'll have you build things around my house."

"They do put my skills to use!" Calum interjected. "Quite often, in fact. I am almost always in the OR with patients."

"Yeah, well," Violet shrugged. "You're also very good at building furniture. And I have a daughter constantly changing what she wants her room to look like."

"I don't get why you continue to let her change her room decor on a whim like that," Elina laughed.

Ryder responded before Violet could (she was always the person that knew Violet the best, perhaps it was because Violet had taken the girl under her wing with her motherly instincts), "It's Violet's way of trying to help keep Emmy comfortable after the divorce, if it's helping Emmy settle down in her new home and the new city, so be it."

"See, someone agrees with my style of parenting," Violet pointed towards the brunette with a smile. "I knew I liked you for a reason Hotchner."

"You only like me because I agree with your style of parenting? I'm wounded," Ryder fake gasped. "Imagine liking me for something other than my extremely high IQ and dashing good looks."

"Oh? Did you not know that by hanging around us all day everyday, your IQ score is actually lowering? The brain cells are packing up their bags every minute of every hour and leaving out for a permanent vacation," Dalia teased. "They're actually all leaving for a vacation to Island Calum over there."

"I am not stupid!" Calum argued, though with the four women in front of him it was much like arguing with four walls put around him, "Just because I am a man does not make me less intelligent than the rest of you. I also went to medical school and went through residency."

"Yeah, but," Elina tilted her head, "you still have testosterone."

Sucking a breath in through her teeth, Ryder followed up, "She's got you there, Cal. Testosterone makes you men a whole lot lower on the IQ score than us women."

Calum rolled his eyes, "I hate you guys, you know."

Dalia stood up, hugging him quickly, "You love us."

"Yeah, yeah," Calum was quick to push her off of him, despite her insistence on staying in a hug. Which, is why it wasn't a shock to everyone when Dalia went back for another hug. And another reason to why no one was shocked that Calum did absolutely nothing to try and get her off this second time around.

"Say it," Dalia pestered. "I'm not going to stop hugging you until you say you love us back."

"Better hurry, Calum, our cabs outside."

Calum shook his head, "Alright, fine, I do not hate you guys. I guess, in fact, sometimes, I do love you all."

"That's more like it," Dalia pat him on his shoulder she took her arms away from being around him. "Text the group chat when you guys get home safe, alright?"

Violet nodded and waved as they walked out of the door, leaving just the three women alone in Ryder's small home. Elina stood up, stretching her arms above her head, "I should probably call it a night on my end too."

"Yeah, can't leave Scott home alone for too long," Ryder joked, though in some way they both knew the hint of the truth behind her words. "He might burn it down if you did."

"Exactly what I'm terrified of," Elina shook her head. "It's scary just how messy he can make the house when I'm not home. Of course, he cleans it up once I do get home but, how he can live in that mess is beyond me."

"Men," Dalia answered simply.

"You live with one too!" Ryder pointed out.

"Yeah, well, enjoy not living with one while you can Ry," Dalia sighed.

"I don't plan on it, not again at least," Ryder shook her head. "That one time was enough for me."

"I forgot about that," Dalia playfully pouted, waving goodbye to Elina as her husband pulled up outside. "How is it that we almost always forget about the details of your life yet you remember every single piece of ours?"

"I don't speak much about my past, Dalia," there was no need to do so, she thought, "You can't expect yourself to remember much about it if I'm not telling you anything."

"Yeah, but, that's my point. You know everything about ours, let us carry some of your pain with us like you do ours. That's what we're here for. If you're not going to have another person be a part of your life romantically and you're not close with your family, let us be the people you use to carry some of the weight of the things that have hurt you."

"That's sweet Dalia, but," Dalia hushed Ryder before she could continue her sentence.

"But what? You've done the same thing for the rest of us, it's time you finally let others do for you what you do for them."

Ryder smiled, letting out a soft sigh, "I'll try."

"That's all that I needed to hear," Dalia smiled. "I'm going walk home."

"You sure? You had three glasses of wine while you were here," Ryder objected, "you can just sleep in my guest bedroom, I don't mind."

"I'm fine, my house is right down the street I can get home," Dalia waved her off dismissively. "Not a problem at all."

"Dalia," Ryder's voice wavered with uncertainty. Even with the short distance (just about a block and a half between them), she knew that a lot could happen. Especially to someone who was tipsy like Dalia was. The world was not safe for women to begin with. Let alone drunk or tipsy women. "Please, just stay here tonight."

"No, no, I need to get home. I miss my dog," Dalia laughed. "But really, I'm fine. I'll call you when I get home."

Before Ryder could get another word out, Dalia had opened and closed the front door. There was an uneasy feeling that settled within the depths of her stomach. Something didn't feel right, she had only felt like this three times before in her life. Once when she was sat down by her mother and Aaron to be told her father had died, once when she was about to walk into her childhood home to find her mother dead on the floor of the kitchen, and when she had woken up from a nap in her cold apartment in Boston to find her boyfriend gone with only a letter left. She couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. Yet, she could only brush it off as being something to do with the nearly five glasses of wine she had drunk throughout the night. Perhaps that hangover she was talking about before was starting to settle in a lot earlier than expected. She shook her head, leaving the mess in her living room for herself to pick up in the morning (there wasn't much, just a room that looked slightly more lived in than it normally did) and turned off the lights. She could only hope that the anxiety would wash away with sleep like it normally did — maybe her reliance on sleep as a way to fix her anxiety and other issues was becoming a bit of a problem. After finding herself getting ready for bed, she slipped underneath the covers and allowed herself to be lulled by sleep.

Hoping that she would wake up to the sound of her phone ringing, hoping she would hear Dalia's voice on the other line.

Except, the only thing that woke her up was a knock on her door. She squinted, a groan leaving her slips as she turned to look at her alarm clock. In bright red numbers it screamed at her 2:57 AM, she had only been asleep for two hours. Did one of her friends leave something in the living room? She couldn't remember seeing anything important but maybe they did. Moving out of bed and slowly creeping her way into the living room, Ryder Hotchner saw the flashes of red and blue lights filter through the window.

That wasn't a good sign.

She couldn't be getting arrested for anything, right? Had she done anything wrong? She couldn't remember. There might have been that one time where she possibly ran a stop sign but they wouldn't arrest her at almost 3 in the morning for that, would they? Ryder's thoughts kept circling until she opened the door to be met with two cops with morose looks.

"Can I help you guys?" Ryder found herself asking.

"Doctor Ryder Hotchner?" Ryder nodded in response to one of the cops, "Can we come in?"

Ryder's brows furrowed, "What's going on?"

The woman, with a sad smile reached out to comfort Ryder with a hand on her upper arm, "You may want to be seated when we tell you this."

Ryder gestured for them to follow her into her home, taking a seat on the couch as the cops stood in front of her, "One hour ago the body of Dalia Rosenfeld was found and from what her boyfriend told us, you were the last person who saw her."

Did they just say "the body"? Ryder's mouth opened and closed wordlessly, "Dalia's dead?"

The cop gave her a sad nod, Ryder found her eyes welling up with tears in response, "We believe it was a homicide."

"Linked with the other two women that have been killed recently?" Ryder questioned, one that the cop nodded yes to. "They were both from the other side of D.C. and found there as well, why, how. Dalia's dead?"

"I'm sorry," the cop responded. "And I'm sorry to have woken you up to let you know, but we wanted to get your statement as soon as we could."

Ryder nodded, wiping away her tears, "Right, yeah I get it. Can I just, have a minute, please?"

They nodded and turned to speak to each other as Ryder processed the information. One of her best friends is dead. Murdered. She was murdered only an hour after she left her house. If she had just stayed there like Ryder asked her to do. If Ryder had only fought for her to stay there more. Maybe she would have been fine. She would have been alive and well. This wouldn't be happening. Ryder Hotchner couldn't believe this was happening. Maybe it was just a dream, a vile and cruel dream her mind is playing for her tonight.

Except, it wasn't a dream. One of her best friends was dead. And she was the last person (outside of whoever it was that killed her) to see her alive. Something about that just didn't seem fair — nothing about it seemed fair. Yet, somehow, as the cops came back around to get her statement. The only thing Ryder Hotchner could think about is: why are bad things always happening to her and the people she loves?

If she were in the mood for joking (which she definitely is not), Ryder Hotchner would even garner to say that there had to be a curse following her. Maybe there was. Maybe there isn't. Ryder wasn't quite sure.

AUTHORS NOTE

you guys to me after I hit you with not only the backstory & og "all too well" break up (in this city's barren cold, I still remember the first fall of snow and how it glistened as it fell, I remember it all too well type beat) BUT ALSO the murder that sets the entire story off! yuh!

anywho, buckle up folks because this story is going to take us all for a doozy. whether it be unpacking many years of familial trauma (bc somehow this murder case brings 4/5 Hotchner siblings in for a reunion) (how sweet!), dealing with grief (grief over a friend, parent, and relationship bc let's be honest Ryder hasn't efficiently grieved any of them), and still being in love with the very man who broke her heart (who also happens to be working on the case trying to figure out who murdered one of her best friends).

hope u all enjoyed this, sorry the writing is bad I fear I have lost all of my capabilities of writing and I am just ... merely putting words to a page. on the other hand I rewatched fleabag so we were getting more interjections in italics than normal bc it felt right.

anyway! leave ur comments with how ur feeling!!