chapter seven / season three.

AMELIA LIKEED TO BELIEVE SHE DIDN'T HAVE A FAVORITE PARENT: she liked to believe her parents loved her equally, so she loved them with equal parts of herself - a 50/50 spilt between the two.

What Amelia believed and how Amelia acted were two completely different things.

When she was younger, shamefully, she would always draw herself closer to her Mom in her drawings and her Dad would always be in scrubs, while Martha would wear a pink polka dot dress drawn by the young artist that was Amelia Levine.

Amelia didn't mean to, it just happened.

Amelia would argue it was nothing Thomas Levine had done, but it was everything Thomas Levine had done.

It was the raising of his voice when Amelia had only done the smallest thing wrong and then overwhelming her with hugs and kisses afterwards, avoiding an apology - Amelia was always the one to apologize, when all she had done was drop her toy on the floor. It was the strict tone in his voice when he told her she couldn't go to one of the girls parties in her school class because it was 'dangerous'.

Amelia didn't stop asking until he started ignoring her when she asked.

Or maybe her Dad's constant enforcement that Amelia had to be a doctor because it 'runs in the family', he had been so adamant on it that he'd even forced the girl to clean her own wounds and such so that she could be ready for med school.

Whilst Amelia was good at cleaning her own wounds, applying a plaster or maybe even doing a few stitches she wasn't interested in med schools.

Amelia was never interested in a medical career.

Thomas Levine had been the most disappointed when his daughter came home from careers day and exclaimed that Agent David Rossi had made her see the future, a job she would dedicate her whole life, a dream she'd spend everyday trying to achieve.

Thomas had called it obsessive.

He never failed to make a passing comment whenever Amelia mentioned she wanted to be a profilier.

He kept quiet when she was a negotiator, but perhaps Amelia's parents thought she had a greater chance of dying in negations than the BAU - Amelia wasn't sure on the percentages, she'd have to check with Spencer - and they didn't want to upset her just incase she got blown up one day.

So, maybe that was why Amelia drew her Dad further distance than her mom.

Or, maybe, Amelia believed that her Mom had the biggest heart.

Martha Levine was a teacher, of ten year olds, and made to be a mom: there was something about her that screamed maternal instincts. She'd known a kid was going to fall down to the ground before the kid ever knew, she was patient and willing to teach all, Martha would hold their hand until they felt brave enough to do it by themselves.

But, she would not hold Amelia's because Thomas did not want that.

Teacher Martha and Mom Martha were two different people, the first wasn't surrounded by Thomas and his parenting ways and was able to teach the children how she wanted.

It meant for confusing times when Amelia was growing up, it meant late night arguments and sitting on the top step listening in.

Her Dad was only ever home, on weekdays, after sunset and by that time Amelia just wanted to play with him and spend time with him but instead he would insist that she learn to make her own company and play by herself. He would shun her before he'd even stepped over the threshold. And when she got insistent, and he got annoyed because he was tired, he shouted.

Amelia would cry.

He would kneel before her and tell her that he was just tired, he didn't mean to - but there was still no apology.

Amelia would let the apology slip from her lips immediately.

He would pick her up and take her to the sofa where she'd cuddle into his side, hiccuping as he ate dinner.

He still acted like her dad, he still loved her like a dad.

Thomas was just more strict, had particular requirements that Amelia had to learn to avoid in hopes to not upset him.

So much so, that Amelia soon stopped asking him to play.

Martha would roll her eyes at her husband sat on the sofa and make her way to her daughter's room, asking if she'd like someone to play with while he ate.

Amelia would say no.

Martha would ask her husband to change his ways.

He would say no.

Amelia kept her Mom close, but still at the distance her dad encouraged, for a long time, all through her childhood, all through her teen years and even into the first few years of adulthood.

Amelia wondered if she'd gotten too close when they got a diagnosis, just months before Amelia was set to leave for college: breast cancer.

That was another time Amelia would cry with the tears streaming down onto her pillow with no-one around to wipe them away, even if she knew her Dad was in the next room crying into his wife's arm.

Martha hadn't cried into her husband's arms.

She cried into the arms of her only daughter, when they were in a treatment room, and let it all out.

They had arms wrapped around each other tightly, afraid to let go of one another just incase.

Martha had kissed the crown of her daughter's head and kept her safe in her arms, even if they were in a hospital that brought in all different types of people, the people saying goodbye, the people saying hello.

When they got home that day, Martha fell asleep almost instantly in the comfort of her bed, with her husband right next to her and her daughter in the next room.

The two others were not asleep and had instead both snook out of their rooms at different times but ended up in the living room at the same time.

He had beckoned Amelia to sit on the couch with him to talk and cry.

Not only could her mom die, but her dad had gone crazy.

She didn't mind if he'd gone crazy because it was the closest Amelia had felt to her Dad, and even considering the circumstances, she loved it all the same.

She wished they did it more when she was younger.

It was a grueling one and a half years for the Levines, but with chemo, surgery and radiation there was no more cancer. And with cuddles, kisses and stories Amelia had never felt so close to her parents.

She wondered if she had to draw a picture of the family, that maybe her Dad would be stood holding her hand as her mom held the other.

Amelia stayed at home for another six months before she decided it was now or never to go to college.

Thomas hadn't been so pleased that his daughter chose a Virginia college.

And Martha didn't want to see her daughter leave, but as a teacher she was more accustomed to watching the children move on into the next stages of their lives.

Martha had just wished her daughter had stayed a child for longer.

Thomas wished his daughter had chosen a medicinal degree.

So came the comments, so came the looks of distaste when she mentioned her degree.

By the time she left, Amelia was fed up of it and actually couldn't wait to get away from it.

Martha felt a frown form on her face that became more permanent overtime when she realized she hadn't done enough to get her husband to agree with their daughter's decisions and that the progress they had made as a family had soon been wiped away.

Not even cruises in Europe could bring her mother's smile back. (Even if it did give her a luxurious tan)

Maybe that's why Amelia wanted the ground to swallow her whole when they reached her apartment.

It was a mess, and that was saying something for Amelia Levine who was usually offering herself up to clean other people's messes.

There was shoes in the entry room scattered all in people's way, there was coats piled upon coats because Amelia didn't know how to install her coat rack onto the wall and there were no pictures on the walls.

Once you entered into Amelia's kitchen, which overlooked the dining room and living room, Martha nearly had a heart attack that there was no fresh fruit or veg in the fridge, there was actually nothing in the fridge. There was however sufficient bottles of wine in the wine fridge with a dirty glass left by the side of the sink.

And don't get Thomas started on the dining room. He was a firm believer that the place where you sit as a family at the beginning and end of the day was the most important room in the house. And Amelia's dining room just seemed to have a whiteboard smack, bang, right in the middle blocking access to half the seats at the table and don't forget the dead plants in the middle of the table and the windowsill.

The living room had blankets and pillow scattered across the couch, seeming as though Amelia had been sleeping there instead of her actual bed.

Her bedroom was in pristine condition with a clean en-suite next to it and an only somewhat disorganized wardrobe, the guest bedroom had been a no go zone - only because it was collecting dust because it was empty - and the guest bathroom was as clean as can be, only because Amelia actually hadn't had a reason to use it.

Amelia had thrown her go bag at the feet of the whiteboard, "My bedroom is all made up for you and I'll take the sofa."

Martha went to decline whilst Thomas was quite happy to agree.

He looked at the whiteboard behind Amelia with distaste, taking a step closer to it to be able to see it clearer.

Thomas sighed, "Amelia, Daisy Adler won't be found. Stop obsessing with her case and move on." He stalked into Amelia's bedroom, claiming he was going to have a shower and get ready for bed.

Martha came up behind her daughter and rubbed her shoulder, "I'm sorry about him, sweetheart, we had a long cruise and a long flight—"

Amelia felt like she was back in college with her mom making up excuses for her Dad's behavior.

Amelia nodded her head, "Yeah, I get it. You better get ready for bed too, we'll go out for breakfast tomorrow."

"Amelia—"

"It's fine, Mom." It's just how he is. "He'll be better in the morning."

They both doubted the words that fell from Amelia's lips as Martha exited the living room with a kiss on her daughter's cheek.

Amelia turned back to her whiteboard which had pictures and red string hung all over it. She did have to admit from afar, and to a stranger, it no doubt looked a bit creepy and a bit obsessive but Amelia understood every single piece of red string and picture hung on the board.

Daisy Adler... what was there to say about the baby that vanished from a New York hospital three days after being born?

Her parents held her, but they never got to know their own little girl. She was taken from them too soon, and unlike the other children in the case she was never given back.

Amelia had never quite understood why, and since the day David Rossi had shown up at her school she had spent time and effort trying to figure out why.

She was not obsessive.

She was trying to give two parents who had fallen apart over the loss of their daughter closure.

That was the job, wasn't it? That's why they did the job they do.

To give victim's families some form of closure, to put the bad guys away and prevent any other family from having to feel like this.

Amelia never quite got over how rewarding that was at the end of a case.

She'd always imagine what it would be like to tell the Adlers that their daughter was out there and why their daughter had been taken from them, but she wasn't quite sure yet.

And she wouldn't give up, even if her own dad made snide remarks towards the missing case, told her she was crazy for thinking Daisy could be found; she wouldn't listen.

One day, she'd bring Daisy home.

Maybe then her Dad might be accepting of her job.

✺

Breakfast the next day had gone by too fast and they'd soon returned back to Amelia's apartment because her parents were just begging to clean Amelia's apartment.

Amelia had to admit that there was some mess but it wasn't exactly unbearable.

Martha had assigned herself to cleaning and sent the other two members of her family to go shopping.

Amelia wished for a lorry to strike them in the middle of the road, anything would've been better than the awkward silence she was stuck in.

Usually, Amelia never had a moments silence in her car there was always music playing in the background, or her fingers tapping against the wheel as she hummed to a song she could imagine.

But, no, this time around she was withholding from playing any CDs, or the radio, or even tapping her fingers against the wheel.

Even Thomas didn't like it.

"Amelia—"

She much preferred the silence to her dad talking, she'd quickly decided.

Amelia only glanced at him out the corner of her eye.

"I didn't come here to critique you." He had done that since the moment he'd landed, he'd even gone so far as to critique the coffee shop they went to for breakfast.

(The one her and Jason visited, frequently, the one she'd received her phone call in. She'd been in optimistic in her hopes that she could make new memories in their special place and perhaps keep his memory alive - her dad had spent the time slandering Amelia and Jason)

Amelia scoffed and tightened her grip around the wheel.

"I didn't." He insisted.

They came to a red light, and Amelia turned her head to face her dad, "That's the only thing you've done since you landed."

"You don't like my job, okay. You don't like my friends, okay. You don't like Jason and you couldn't care less that I miss him and I have no clue where he is, okay." Amelia shook her head at him, "But, I don't want to know that. You keep that to yourself, it's your opinion and it has nothing to do with me."

"Because I'm not changing my job, my friends, or the fact I'm sad over a friend leaving after spending years with them."

This time, Thomas scoffed, "He wasn't your friend, Amelia, he was your teacher - you don't befriend your teachers. And those people in that office, they surely aren't your friends, they just accept you because they have to, it's apart of the job."

"It's like Clara."

Amelia pulled over.

Thomas didn't seem to notice, "She was your friend because you worked together and you were her teacher. She wasn't your friend, if you know what I mean." He turned to her, as if ready to explain his words more.

Amelia understood fully.

She understood that her Dad didn't know one single thing about friendship.

Amelia shook her head, "Why... why do you do this everytime?"

He looked confused, Amelia was sure he was faking it.

"Why can't you just accept this is where I am and that I'm happy here and that my friends in the BAU make me happy." If something bad was to happen now, Amelia would be sure that she was cursed or something like that. "Why do you constantly have to pick apart the life I have dreamed of?"

"I don't do that."

"You've done it since I told you I wanted to be a profiler!" Amelia raised her voice, finding that the frustration she had pent up with her dad over the last few years was reaching its peak. "You constantly shut me down, told me I couldn't do this a few times. That was you picking my dreams apart."

"You picked apart Jason this morning because he helped me get here, to my dream. You pick apart Clara, even after she died, because she was supportive of me getting into the BAU and you pick apart my team because they're just like me, in the same job you have hated since you heard about it."

Thomas nodded his head but Amelia couldn't see any regret, "Okay, maybe I do that."

"Maybe?" Amelia laughed at him, "Yeah, it's just a maybe."

"Amelia—"

"No. Let me talk."

His mouth shut.

"I just want you to say you're proud of me for what I did, the career I achieved by myself, without so much so a sprinkle of your encouragement! For once, I want you to look at me, like I'm your daughter, and I did something your proud of." Amelia bit her lip before speaking again, "Is that so hard?"

Thomas looked up at her from his gaze that had remained on his lap, at first, "Am I supposed to be proud of the two suicides that have followed in your wake since joining the 'team'. Or, the whole unit you managed to dismember after a colleague died at work. Or, the unit chief you got fired."

Amelia regretted asking her Dad for anything. She thought it would've been simple, but clearly it had not.

Amelia immediately lost her resolve of frustration with her dad, "I didn't— I didn't do that."

The Unit Chief had been fired due to his own actions.

The Section Chief had thought it best that the unit get spilt up after Clara died.

The suicides hadn't been her fault.

It hadn't all been her fault, had it?

Had she got the Unit Chief fired?

Had she got the unit spilt up?

Had the suicides of Anna and Stanley been her fault?

Amelia went quiet.

Thomas got mean.

"See, there's your answer, Amelia. Your silence is always the answer that you know I'm right."

"No..." her response was quiet, her unease made clear.

She didn't want to believe him, but hadn't be always been right?

No...

Maybe...

"Your dream is a sham, Amelia. Is so much death and controversy pinned to your name, our name, worth it?" He raised his eyebrows, "Tell me, Amelia, is it worth it?"

Yes.

She wanted to be the one who brought relief to a victim's family, or even a victim themself when they'd been saved from a kidnapping. She wanted to reassure significant others that the love of their life was coming home.

And even if it didn't go according to plan and Amelia had to comfort someone who had lost their loved one, she'd promise that it's somehow going to get better - she knows it does - but also that the unsub was caught and they weren't going to have to live in fear.

That was worth it.

"That's not fair..." Amelia's voice wobbled.

"What's not fair? The lives you've managed to ruin all in hopes of achieving some dream? The lives you've ended since achieving your dream?"

Amelia squeezed her eyes shut.

"Come on, Amelia, tell me what's not fair? That a man lost his livelihood because you worked too hard and let a rookie negotiate or that five other people had to move all across the country because your worked too hard. That some unstable girl lost her life because you didn't see the signs soon enough! And then, Stanley, well, you didn't try very hard to save him, did you?" He questioned and followed up with some cynical laugh, "Tell me what's not fair, Amelia. Because all those things you've done seem pretty unfair to me."

Amelia clenched her fists.

"You don't know what you're talking about." She whispered, lacking all courage.

She sounded like a child, a hopeless, scared child. She supposed that's all she ever was to Thomas: hopeless and scared.

Thomas laughed, again, "That's right! I don't know what I'm talking about because I have a medical degree not some prissy degree in psychology, so I can't read minds and put them in prison. Is that why I don't understand?"

Her degree had always been a sore spot for him.

Amelia looked at him, her firsts still clenched at her side, finding a surge in confidence, "Yeah. That's it. If you had my degree, or ever payed the tiniest bit of attention to the facts I've told you over the years, you'd know that saving Stanley from that ledge was highly unlikely and nearly no-one would be able to do it."

"And you didn't." He reminded her, as if she'd forgotten.

"No, I didn't save him but he thought about it," Amelia swore her Unit Chief had been somewhat proud of her when that happened, "Yeah. The man impossible of saving, listened to me and for a second he thought I was saying something logical, something that would get him off that ledge and put him in cuffs."

"But you didn't. It was a nearly, Amelia. A nearly isn't good enough."

Amelia sighed.

Thomas twisted in the passenger seat to see his daughter fully, "I'm just trying to protect you, Amelia, make you see if this is really what you want. You're still young, you could still be a doctor—"

"I don't want that." Amelia interjected, "I have never wanted that and I don't understand why you won't listen when I say that."

She decided to ignore his little guilt trip. She hadn't even noticed it at first, she was far too used to them.

"But it's what I am." He told her as if she hadn't known that her whole life.

"Exactly. It's what you are, it's who you are. But, I'm not you and I thought you'd know that by now."

Amelia shook her head, and pulled out of the lane they had been pulled over in.

Thomas furrowed his eyebrows as she made a u-turn.

"What are you doing?"

"Going home." She muttered and didn't bother to repeat herself knowing it would piss him off more.

"What? Amelia, you know I don't like muttering."

"Going home." She over enunciated.

"Why? We need to get you food and the ingredients for tonight, and breakfast tomorrow because we aren't going back to the coffee shop—"

"I'm going home because I'm having a takeaway tonight and going to bed early because I'm going to work tomorrow, so I'll have a breakfast bar on my way in." Amelia was supposed to have another two days off.

She didn't quite fancy being stuck with her dad in those two days.

Not when he slandered Jason, slandered Clara and had slandered her team all in one car ride.

(And he had slandered her, but he didn't like tears, so Amelia wouldn't cry about it - not in-front of him at least)

"No, Amelia, you have two more days off."

Amelia hummed, "I'll call Strauss in the morning, my so called break is over."

"It wasn't relaxing anyway."

"And what are your mother and I supposed to do?"

Amelia shrugged, "There's a nice diner down the street, it's past the Langham, really nice breakfasts and don't forget all the sites of Virginia! I'm sure you won't be bored while I'm off doing nothing of importance."

"Amelia." He warned.

Amelia didn't listen.

"Oh don't worry, you only won't see me if another case comes up. Let's hope it's not someone stood on the edge of a ledge because I'll kill them, won't I?"

"Amelia."

"And then you'll go home, pretend this argument never happened and then the next time you come to Virginia you'll have nothing nice to say and we'll repeat the cycle over, and over again." Amelia smiled falsely at him, "Isn't that lovely?"

"Amelia."

His tone made her feel like a child, it reminded her that no matter how much distance had shrunk between them all those years ago he was still the same man.

The same man that Amelia would never draw close enough to her pictures.

Amelia did have a favorite parent after all and it would never be her Dad.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
amelia being in denial about how her dad treats her is actually hotch's villian arc btw, he hates that man!!

plus when hotch gets his divorced dad complex at the langham isn't it so cute that he and amelia only live down the road from each other