chapter twelve / season three.

DEREK HAD TWO BEST FRIENDS.

And those two best friends of his warmed his heart, truly. Derek loved them like no tomorrow.

When he'd first met Penelope Garcia, he was unsure of how to react to the bubbly personality who walked the halls of the FBI building in complete contrast to everyone else. He was unsure how to react because he'd never seen anyone dress so brightly and have a smile on her face. That had been the first thing Derek had loved about Penelope, and the list had only grown since the first day.

And it had grown at such an extortionate rate that he had no clue what number the list was on.

Penelope wore bright clothes and had funky pens on her desk, she always had a spare stick of gum for Derek hanging around and detested anything bloody. She was so different from anyone Derek knew, and that was what he appreciated.

When Derek stayed over one night at Penelope's house he was not surprised to find the walls painted a deep purple with those beads hanging over almost every entrance, there was a wall in the dining room that was just dedicated with pictures (and overtime Derek had seen the walls become filled to the point there was no more room). Penelope had more decorative cushions than she had room and barely any spare room on side tables or coffee tables due to knick-knacks.

Even Penelope's bathroom had elements of the girl's colorful life; with a pink fuzzy rug, those renter friendly fake tiles in the same deep purple as her living room (that Derek had to install) and a sparkly toilet roll holder.

It was so Penelope.

He loved it.

His other best friend had only come into his life in more recent months, but he loved Amelia Levine nonetheless. She'd been Gideon's friend before she'd been his. That didn't matter.

She was a ball of nerves that could come undone at anymore, Derek had realized that within five minutes of meeting her. And for the girl who wore a smile (at the beginning) and brought in kind gestures for the members of the team (so she fitted in), she had so much backstory.

She'd lived in five states before turning ten.

She was a pleasure to teach.

She was a good team player.

She had a Unit Chief out to get her.

She had a dead friend.

She was on Strauss' list.

She had a douchey dad.

Amelia had a lot of things going on, was Derek's quick summary. And in recent weeks it seemed to be that the bad outweighed the good.

Well, if Derek was being honest in the past twelve months the bad had outweighed the good. The only good thing Derek could see in her recent history was getting the hell out of Seattle and getting her dream job in the BAU.

And considering that had happened to her two months ago, Derek believed she must've been having a pretty shitty time in Seattle.

While Derek believed Amelia to be the second happiest, and smiliest (if that was a word) in the unit, he was still concerned.

He was very concerned.

Amelia didn't make friends well, she didn't believe that people wanted to be her friend in the first place, she had many different tells that they had to figure out and she had a lot more backstory than Derek first believed.

He didn't want to rush her, he needed Amelia to open up to him on her own terms. But, he was also impatient.

So, he was constantly battling just sitting her down in-front of him and getting it all out in the air, instead of letting her wallow all alone.

Being the one to take her home and make sure she was safe tonight was the perfect opportunity to try and get her to open up.

What he hadn't expected was such a bland and blank canvas of an apartment. Derek had much imagined an apartment that was like Penelope's: filled to the brim with clutter, painted walls and cushions everywhere.

Instead, Derek had walked into an apartment that had white walls everywhere and a few brick walls, with no pictures, no clutter and shoes and bags scattered everywhere. The walls made him feel like he was in an asylum or something and the shoes and bags felt like a death trap.

He never realized Amelia had such a collection of shoes.

And on a night like tonight, Derek realized getting Amelia to open up was not the goal. It was far from it, actually.

All Derek wanted Amelia to do tonight was sleep in her own bed (and not the sofa that looked like she had slept on it more than her own bed) and make her feel safe and comfortable after her panic attack in the minuscule jet bathroom.

Oh yeah, Derek had figured her out the second she'd walked out of that bathroom. He wasn't blind, he was her friend.

He was her friend who was going to make her breakfast tomorrow and finally make her talk.

✺

Amelia didn't remember falling asleep. Actually, the last thing she remembered was getting Derek to hold her hand on the remainder of the flight home.

That had been nice.

She realized she never really held hands with anyone before. Her father had deemed it childish very early on in her childhood and had encouraged her mom to not do it either. (What Thomas says, goes) and she had never been surrounded by any other family member to hold her hand either.

The only family member who had done it was her Grandma: just hours before she died, breaking Thomas' rules and then succumbing to a random death.

(The woman had died of a heart attack, fairly young, and with no previous heart problems)

Amelia couldn't remember how it felt to have her Grandma's hand wrapped around hers, she was sure it had been nice and the comfort she had desired her whole life and had missed.

Derek's hand had been safe, it was warm around her sweaty hand, it was safe and with his squeezes, it brought her back to earth.

That she had suffered a panic attack in the jet bathroom.

That she had muffled her own sobs.

That she held her own hair back.

That she fixed herself.

She did it.

Just because she did it didn't make her any less tired after a perfect nights sleep - she'd been forced into her own bed by Derek, who threatened to tape her down to the sheets if she dared argued that she should sleep on the couch and fallen asleep within minutes.

She had been safe asleep.

She didn't dream, she didn't have a nightmare, she didn't wake up in sweats.

Amelia just slept.

She had forgotten what that felt like.

And even if she had gotten around eight hours of sleep, Amelia found herself rolling out of bed with a yawn and aching muscles.

Perhaps cramming herself in the space between the toilet and the sink hadn't been her brightest idea.

The weirdest part about waking up had not been her aching muscles or the headache she already felt coming on but the smell of breakfast cooking.

Amelia didn't have any food for Derek to be cooking.

Her feet scuffed along the floorboards as she navigated her way towards the kitchen and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

When she finally opened them and could see clearly, she realized Derek was already dressed and eggs were being scrambled and toast was being prepared to be toasted.

"What—?"

Derek turned around to her with a smile, "Good morning, sleepyhead. How'd you sleep? I'm guessing pretty good 'cause I accidentally slammed the door and you didn't wake up."

Amelia cleared her throat as she realized it felt a bit scratchy and sat at her kitchen island (considering she couldn't sit at her dining table due to the whiteboard in the way)

Oh. The whiteboard.

She quickly turned around in her seat to see that it had moved positions slightly, and that Derek had clearly looked at the information connected by red lines and tape on the board.

Oh. He probably thought I'm crazy.

He seemed to have noticed her attention was on the whiteboard behind her. "Oh! Yeah, is that all research? 'Cause if so, you're very in depth with it. I mean, the Daisy Adler case went cold nearly thirty years ago and you've got information I've never seen on files before."

She rubbed her neck, nervously. "I...uh..."

Derek noticed her nerves, "It's really cool, actually. It'd be interesting if I could read all your files one day, you seem to have a lot more than the FBI do." He laughed quietly and popped the toaster down, "It's impressive, Amelia."

Impressive.

Was he sure he didn't mean obsessive?

"It's not really." She admitted, quietly, "Well, my dad doesn't think so."

Her eyes widened when she realized she'd just let that slip.

Oh no. No. No. No. No.

Do not ask any questions, Derek Morgan. Do not ask any—

"What makes you say that?" He asked.

Amelia stared at him as he navigated around her kitchen.

She hadn't meant to say it. No. No. No!

How did he get her to slip up so easily?

Amelia watched him navigate around her kitchen as the penny dropped.

Oh.

He wanted her to talk with a side of breakfast. Classic move, that she should've seen coming.

Derek turned around when the toast had finally popped and raised his eyebrows.

She just stared back at him.

"Amelia?"

"What do you want to know?"

Derek paused the buttering of the toast. "What?"

"Your breakfast..." her hand gestured to the plates he was putting food onto, "has an ulterior motive. If you want me to talk, ask."

Derek thought it seemed too easy.

Had you met Amelia Levine? She ignores her problems until they all come crashing down on her in a jet bathroom and she can't breathe anymore.

That was Amelia Levine.

She was not someone who just let you in and told you to ask away.

"I don't want to ask, if you don't want to answer." Liar! Derek so desperately wanted to ask, but he was not going to ask if Amelia was going to lie her way through the questions and not give him the truth.

Oh, he knew her too well.

Amelia realized she had dug herself a moderately sized hole now. She'd confronted him and his ulterior and now she couldn't lie her way through his questions because he'd figured her out.

She couldn't just answer his questions. That was too easy and then she became a burden.

"You must not become other people's burdens, Amelia."

Her problems were her problems.

They were not meant to be Derek's problems or else they would've happened to him to, and not just her.

But wouldn't it be nice to be honest?

No.

No.

No.

(Yes)

Wouldn't it be nice to life some weight of your shoulders, Amelia?

No.

No.

No.

No.

(Yes)

Derek placed a plate in-front of her during her conflict, "We don't have to talk, I just thought that, maybe, you'd want to after what happened on the jet."

"Nothing happened on the jet."

Amelia hadn't even let a second pass before the response fell from her lips.

Well done Captain-fucking-obvious.

She expected Derek to laugh at her terrible lie, or roll his eyes and decide the conversation was over.

He didn't.

"Amelia."

"Derek."

"Your palms were sweaty, your hair was tied back, you stunk of my cologne - which you'd only ever put on in a life or death situation - and you had been crying."

Amelia glanced up at him, "Thanks for the reminder."

"I'm not—" Derek paused and sighed, "That's not what I'm trying to do, Amelia."

Amelia shook her hand and played with the egg on her fork, "No, you're trying to get me to talk."

Yeah, and it's fucking difficult. But, Derek honored his promise of not giving up.

"Is that a bad thing?" He asked.

Depends if you sign her into therapy afterwards.

Amelia shrugged.

"I just want to make sure you're okay."

When was the last time Amelia had been okay?

Probably not since she was four years old.

"I'm fine."

She expected him to scoff or sigh in frustration.

He didn't.

"You're not 'fine', Amelia. You've got all these things going on in that head of yours and you can't handle it all by yourself." Derek insisted, "And we don't let you handle these things by yourself, not in the BAU."

"I won't let you handle it all by yourself."

Amelia squeezed her eyes shut.

She bit the inside of her cheek before responding with, "I've done it before, Derek. I'll be fine."

"Will you?"

She bit her tongue this time.

"Whenever Gideon's mentioned," she tensed, "your shoulders and back tense."

She proved his point.

"That doesn't happen if you 'handle' something."

"It's spasms." She tried to tell him, not looking up from her half eaten toast. "I used to be a cheerleader and pull muscles, like, every session."

Fucking liar! Amelia wouldn't dare join the cheerleading team no matter how hard the girls tried to make her. Imagine if she fell flat on her face!

She'd never live it down.

"You weren't a cheerleader." He whispered, getting up from the stool he was sat on and washing his plate, drying it and putting it away.

Amelia watched his every move and every so often ate a small section of her toast.

Derek held his hands up as he put the towel back down, "You don't have to talk, Amelia. If it's not your thing, it's not your thing."

Amelia eyed him, suspiciously.

He wouldn't just drop it. Derek Morgan wasn't know for dropping things, what was he playing at?

And wouldn't it be nice if talking was her thing?

"I..." she said quietly.

Derek had never moved so fast to sit in the stool beside her.

Amelia would have laughed if she wasn't talking things out.

"I don't think or talk about Jason because..."

Why? Why? Why?

Because it made her angry? Because it made her feel confused? And she'd feel her eyes well with tears because he'd been her first friend.

Amelia liked to believe it had been Clara but really it never had been.

Jason Gideon had listened to the girl ramble nervously in a coffee shop every Saturday and he'd taught her and helped her with studies. That was the main reason for their meetings but she also just talked to him.

About anything and everything.

Her mom's illness and how that had made her feel.

Her father's coldness towards her since she left for college.

Her shower that didn't work very well in the dorm.

She talked. And he listened. Someone listened for once.

Jason had never shut her down, told her to shut up, or sent her away. She talked and he listened. And then he tried to guide her into what to do next.

He wasn't just a mentor who she'd spilt coffee on.

He was a friend.

She hadn't even realized it.

Amelia had never said thank you enough.

"I don't talk about him because I have so much to say to him. I want to thank him, but I wanna scream in his face at the same time. I wanna punch him and hug him." She gripped the edge of the counter, "Whenever any of you bring up Jason, I just get so confused."

"I don't know if I hate him, or miss him. It's like my mind can't decide."

"But then I don't know how to hate him, without missing him. And I don't know how to miss him and not hate him."

"So, I don't think or talk about him because it's too confusing and I don't know how to think about him anymore." She admitted.

It felt like a lame excuse but it was true. It was the truest Amelia had felt in a while.

That was nice.

"It's stupid." Soon fell from her lips.

It might've been nice, but it couldn't last. Soon, she would become Derek's burden.

That wasn't right.

That wasn't how you were raised.

Derek shook his head and grabbed tightly onto her hand, "Amelia, it's far from stupid. It's how you feel and you're allowed to feel like this. You're allowed to feel."

"You're allowed to hate him and you're allowed to miss him because it's just love. It's really just all the love you had for your friend that you didn't get to give him." Derek couldn't believe how cheesy he was being.

It was for Amelia. So, it was okay.

"You do know you're allowed to feel like this, don't you?"

No.

"Yes."

"Is that the truth?"

Yes.

"No."

Derek squeezed her hand, "Amelia, let me tell you this, what you feel is valid. The hate, the anger, the sadness. Whatever you feel, you're allowed to feel. And no-one should've ever told you differently."

"You're allowed to scream into a pillow and curse his name and you're allowed to cry about him." Amelia looked up at him with blurred vision, "You can't keep it all locked away, or it will come crashing down, Amelia."

It already had.

He knew that.

Derek didn't want it to happen again.

Amelia wiped the stray tear away.

"Keep 'em coming, Amelia." It felt like he was coaching her to cry. "I'll let you cry, Amelia. We will all let you cry, even Hotch will let you cry."

"Because it's allowed. There's not a law out there that says: you're not allowed to cry. We have to cry, because crying is feeling."

Her hands covered her face.

"Don't hide, Amelia." He delicately pulled her hands away and held them in his own, "You don't have to hide."

"You don't have to be alone."

She pulled her hands out of his in a quick motion, "I do. I do." She whispered frantically.

You do. You do, Amelia.

"No, no, no." Derek muttered, grabbing hold of her hands and squeezing them tightly, "Who told you that, Amelia? Who told you that you have to do everything alone?"

Derek knew the answer.

He just had to hear her say it.

She shook her head as her bottom lip trembled.

"I can't—"

"You can. You can tell me, Amelia."

"I can't." Her voice cracked.

You can.

You can.

You can.

"My..." hiccup, "Dad."

He didn't look shocked. He didn't look angry at her.

He just looked sad.

"I can't..." he squeezed her hands, "I can't be your problem."

Derek squeezed his eyes shut.

"You are not a problem. Not to me, Amelia. Not to any of your friends."

A sound came from her that broke his heart.

Derek wasn't sure if it was a sob, or a wail.

But he heard it, and he just wanted to wrap her in bubble wrap and not let her father near her ever again.

He'd imprison him if he had to.

Derek wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her in close to him. He just kept mumbling; "You are not a problem."

And Amelia kept letting the tears cascade down her cheeks and letting them fall onto the material of Derek's shirt.

✺

He didn't know how long for.

He didn't know how long they had remained in those two stools that were incredibly uncomfortable and just let Amelia feel safe.

She cried and she cried.

And she cried.

Her eyes stung and at some point her hand had wrapped around Derek's waist, as if to pull him even closer to her.

At the beginning of the day (which had been one hour and fifteen minutes ago) she had thought the biggest thing she'd ever missed out on as a child was just holding someone's hand.

Amelia has since, quickly, learnt that it wasn't just holding their hand. It was being held by someone you cherish. Someone who made you feel safe.

Amelia hadn't had that a lot.

Derek looked up at the clock and noticed Amelia was slowing down with her tears. "Do you want to go to work today?"

No.

"Yes." She whispered into the damp material of his shirt.

Amelia couldn't just not turn up at work. What would they think of her? That she was a wimp? Couldn't handle a panic attack?

No. Amelia. Don't think like that.

Maybe she just couldn't stomach being stuck in this apartment.

"Are you sure?" Derek asked with a furrowed eyebrow.

Maybe he shouldn't of given Amelia the option.

"You can call in sick, Hotch won't mind."

I'm not sick.

"I'm okay." Her voice croaked as she spoke, "I can go to work."

Your life must really be something if the place you work in is the place you feel most at home.

"Amelia—" Derek didn't feel like she had everything out in the open, she was still holding back. She might not have been holding back about Jason anymore, but there was something or someone that kept her held back.

Amelia knew who.

And Derek felt like he knew who.

And he knew he couldn't pressure her into talking about Clara.

She stood up from the stool and gave him a pointed look.

"I'm just worried about you, yesterday..." he trailed off, "It looked like a bad attack."

Oh, it was!

It was ugly. (And sweaty)

"You don't have to go through another one alone."

Amelia sighed.

I do.

"If you want to tell me what it was about, I'll listen, Amelia." He reached out for her hand and held it in his, "But you don't have to."

Amelia looked at their hands, and looked back up at him. "I..."

"I don't want to talk about that," she paused, "yet."

"I did a lot of talking today." Far too much for her liking, "And I just need to figure things out before I talk about that."

That.

Say what it was Amelia, go on.

Or are you scared you'll have another one.

Derek watched as her fists clenched at her sides.

"I can work. It'll only be paperwork. So, I can work."

Derek wasn't sure if she was convincing herself or him.

"I'm gonna take a shower, first, though. I feel like shit."

"You look like it too." Derek teased, knowing she had set herself up for that one so that she could lighten the mood.

Amelia didn't make a comment or even slap him on the arm. The corners of her lips turned upwards.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me, Amelia. To be there for you this morning was what I wanted. Thank you for letting me."

Amelia scowled at him, "A 'your welcome' would suffice, you know?"

Derek rolled his eyes, "Go and have a shower, stinky butt."

"Don't be so immature!"

✺

Derek had handed Amelia over his pair of sunglasses on the way to the offices after she claimed that her eyes looked all red and puffy, which she had then called embarrassing.

Derek had been lucky enough to hear it and hand her his expensive sunglasses.

The whole way over she'd been asking him if she could steal them.

Derek had argued that that wasn't stealing.

Amelia begged to differ up until the moment they stepped out of the elevator.

"There you two are!" Penelope screeched as she stormed over to the elevator, "I have been waiting an hour and forty-five minutes for you two!"

The blonde noticed Amelia's sunglasses and decided not to question the stylistic choice.

"Where have you been?" The technical analyst put her hands on her hips.

Derek felt like he was being questioned by his Mama on one of those nights he came home late and nearly laughed at Penelope and her scolding face.

Amelia shrunk. She'd never been scolded for being late before. Mostly because she was never late.

"Um..." Amelia stuttered and pointed at Derek, "Derek broke my shower!"

Derek raised his eyebrows and faced Amelia, "Did he now?"

"Yep! He was in the shower this morning and the shower head completely just flew off! He screamed like a little girl. And this was like ten minutes before we had to leave." Amelia pulled a face, "So, you can imagine how much of a conundrum that caused, I had to get the plumber in there before it flooded and I nearly saw Derek naked, oh, it was tragic!"

"Who saw Derek naked?" Emily asked and coming to join the small group after she realized Penelope had been missing for five minutes.

"Me!" Amelia exclaimed, "It was horrific, Em."

Em.

Emily smiled.

Amelia thought it was because she was making fun of Derek, but it had been far from that reason.

Em.

"And then, Pen, he set my toaster on fire." Amelia looped her arms through one of Emily's and one of Penelope's.

Penelope swore her heart burst at the nickname.

Derek stood in the waiting area with a shocked expression.

He hadn't done a single one of those things! And yet those two women believed those lies like it was truth.

Oh, Derek was so going to have to get his payback.

"Hi, Amelia!" Spencer greeted, waving at the agent who had just arrived.

"Morning, Spencer! Did you play any chess last night?"

He spun around happily in his seat, "No! But I watched this four hour long documentary about chess, I'll tell you the name of it if you want. It was really interesting."

He had already written the name of the documentary down on a piece of paper and handed it to Amelia.

Amelia gasped in real excitement, "I'm going to check this out. Does it have a cliffhanger or anything? What snacks are best suited for a chess documentary?"

"There's no cliffhangers and I just ate some chips."

Amelia hummed, "No cliffhangers... I'll text you when I watch it and rate it out of ten. What did you rate it out of ten?"

"A sold 8.5. I've seen better."

"I'll take that into consideration."

Amelia looked up at the sound of light footsteps, "JJ!"

Amelia seemed like someone who hadn't seen the team less than twelve hours ago.

They weren't sure why she was so enthusiastic or what had changed in the past twelve hours but they were certainly enjoying their Amelia.

"Amelia!" The media liaison replied with the same enthusiasm and brought the agent into a hug.

Amelia was certainly in a hugging mood today.

Maybe she realized how little she'd been hugged.

"Did you get a good nights sleep? Was Derek a good house guest?"

Amelia and Penelope gasped in sync, "You would not believe how terrible he is as a house guest."

"He broke the shower and the toaster, JJ!" The pair were like two excited children telling on their older brother.

David Rossi stood a few steps behind them and couldn't help but smile.

"And he nearly the flooded the apartment." Amelia added on, "And his cologne? He sprayed the one I hate, it felt like I was going to die."

Derek rolled his eyes as he walked past them, "Are you still talking about me?"

"No."

"Absolutely."

Guess which was Amelia's response and which was Penelope's.

"It's not my fault you broke everything in sight this morning." Amelia responded.

Derek raised his eyebrows, "Oh, yes, because I did break all those things this morning."

Amelia blinked.

"I will kick you."

"Do it." Derek dared and retreated to his desk when Amelia made no advance on him.

"Hey, Penelope, can you come over to check my computer, I think I broke it." Penelope furrowed her eyebrows but obliged and sat down beside Derek.

Amelia laughed, "Breaking everything today, Derek?"

"I will break you in half."

Amelia cackled, "I'd like to see you try."

The agent was sure Derek could easily snap her in half but she knew he would never.

Amelia turned around when Penelope and Derek began chatting in hushed tones and Emily resorted to making fun of Spencer (with JJ telling her off), Amelia found herself face to face with newest (was he really the newest?) agent in the unit.

"Agent Rossi, hi, good morning."

He smiled at her, "Call me, Dave."

Amelia sighed in relief, "Oh, thank goodness. I thought you would've hated me after the last case. I didn't mean to be weird or anything, I was just..." emotional unstable? "going through something."

But, I'm better now.

(Amelia had literally solved one of her problems. That was like 15% of them)

His hand rested on her elbow, "Don't worry about it. You were close friends with Jason, weren't you?" She nodded her head and didn't feel her shoulders or back tense, "I understand his departure must have hurt, and I don't want to step on any toes."

"You aren't." Amelia smiled at him, "Jason did what was best for him, and that's okay."

It was okay.

"What's your favorite coffee by the way? And, oh! Your favorite pastry?" Amelia did really have to visit that pastry place that just opened up or she was afraid Grant Anderson was going to go crazy in wait.

"Levine," a voice commanded just from the door of his office.

Amelia poked her head around Dave's frame, with an innocent expression on her face.

"Can I see you in my office, for a moment?"

Amelia's face fell. She nodded her head.

Okay.

Think Amelia, what fireable offense do you have on your name right now?

Being late, yeah, that's definitely one. A panic attack in the jet bathroom, probably - her old unit Chief would've definitely fired her for that - stealing the paper from the printer in the staff room.

Oh.

Not the paper. She'd forgotten about that.

She had been in desperate need for some! And desperate times call for desperate measures.

Rossi patted her on the shoulder, "I'll leave my favorites on your desk."

She nodded her head quickly and rubbed her palms against her thighs as she made her way to the Unit Chief's office.

Oh, she was so getting fired over some paper.

Amelia knocked, even if she knew he'd already invited her inside the office.

She'd heard a quiet, "Come in." before stepping into the office.

Amelia didn't even let Aaron Hotchner breathe before speaking at him, "Sir, I'm so sorry I was late this morning, and I'm sorry for making Derek late. We just... we got into some stuff and time went by pretty quickly and I lost track of time."

Time flies when you're crying.

"And, if it's about the paper I stole, I'm really sorry, I just was in urgent need of paper and I didn't think I'd cause any damage if I stole it from here."

Agent Hotchner laughed, quietly.

Amelia stopped talking instantly and stood up a lot straighter.

Had he just laughed?

Was she imagining things?

Did he just laugh?

She didn't care if it was as quiet as a mouse or just under his breath: he still laughed.

He was laughing.

And Amelia didn't realize she could love a sound she'd barely heard before.

"Amelia, it's not about the paper or being late." He already knew why she was late, Derek had sent him a quick text and he was not going to scold the two for getting into personal discussions and being late.

He wasn't a horrible person.

Well, some might beg to differ but he was trying.

He offered her a seat, she took it and watched him with wide eyes.

If it wasn't about the paper, or being late what could this be about?

He sat in the seat opposite her, surprising her as she assumed he would sit behind his desk.

James Conrad always sat behind his desk with his fingers interlocked, like a movie villian. All he had needed was the cat.

It was something to do with wanting to be imposing and show that he was the boss, the figurehead of the unit. And that no-one would attempt to undermine him or make comments.

Amelia had never saw through him till the day he was fired.

She never realized how quickly she complied to his way of doing things.

"It's nothing bad," he said, causing her head to snap up and look at him, "I promise."

Unit Chief's make promises all the time.

They usually go against them.

Hotchner quickly realized his promise meant nothing. He was going to have to earn Amelia's trust, and he could wait for that.

He'd wait for however long it took her.

"I'm worried about you, Amelia."

It's nothing bad, he said! Worrying about Amelia is always a bad thing!

She rubbed her thumb against the pad of her index finger.

Hotchner's eyes widened when he realized she did that too.

"Oh, you don't have to do that." Amelia said.

He hunched forward in his seat, "I want to. You are in my unit, Amelia, you are my agent. I worry about you because you are vital to this unit in such a short amount of time. You mean a lot to everyone here."

Did that include him?

"And I don't want anything slipping through the cracks with you."

Amelia slowly brought her head up to look at him, her lips were down turned into a frown.

He didn't like that. If anyone was to wear a frown; it was him. A frown better suited him than it did her. To Aaron, a frown on Amelia's face felt wrong and it only made his lips curve downward even more than usual.

Amelia didn't look like she was going to speak, so Hotchner took it upon himself to do so.

"Amelia, I was the one who walked past the bathroom when you'd been in there so long and I saw you come out of there with puffy eyes and trembling hands." The Unit Chief looked as though he was going to reach out and hold onto her hands, but he held back. "You pretended to sleep the whole journey home, Amelia."

"It's hard to sleep after a panic attack, I know."

Amelia's frown deepened.

"Did you get a good nights sleep last night? Was it easier than sleeping on the jet?"

She nodded her head. But couldn't find herself focused on his questions but rather his own words.

'I know.'

Maybe he shouldn't be worrying about her.

"I want to help you, Amelia. That's all I want. You don't have to tell me about them, you can tell Morgan or Garcia, but I want you to tell someone."

Amelia looked at him and even he couldn't quite tell what she was trying to communicate with him.

She picked at the nail polish on her nails.

"I..." she stumbled over her words for what felt like the hundredth time today. "I'd rather tell you."

Agent Hotchner's eyebrows furrowed.

"If it isn't too much..."

His face immediately fell.

It was with a softness that Amelia hadn't seen before, it was covered in concern and worry for her.

"Amelia, it's never too much. Whenever you want to talk to me, you can, okay? You don't even have to knock, the door is always open."

She giggled, quietly, "The door was shut earlier."

She looked up at him with no evidence of a frown on her face, anymore, the corners of her lips had curved upwards.

"I meant metaphorically." He rolled his eyes in a teasing manner.

The corners of his own lips curved upwards when he hears another giggle fall from her lips.

He leaned back in his seat, almost as his worries had been calmed by the fact she wanted to talk to him. Aaron had been sure he would be last on the list of people she'd ever want to talk to.

He had.

But, then Amelia realized he had panic attacks before and probably still had them.

Sure, he could be some expert in comforting her or whatever.

But, if Amelia talked to him, she hoped he would talk to her.

Agent Hotchner didn't want her to feel alone, and Amelia realized she didn't want him to feel alone either.

"Do you want to talk about it now, or do you want to let it settle?" He asked, that softness still firmly planted on his face.

Amelia realized this was a side of him she'd never seen before. (He'd laughed, he'd smiled and he wasn't frowning, this was turning into a large victory)

"Um, can I get back to you on that?" She tilted her head to the side, "I've done a lot of talking today, and I don't usually talk."

"Can I come back later? Or tomorrow, maybe?"

The Unit Chief nodded his head and leaned forward again, "Come back whenever, Amelia."

"Just don't call after hours." He joked.

She looked up at him with a smile, "Thank you."

"It's nothing, Amelia. If anything, thank you for letting me be the person you want to talk to."

Why did the men in her life find it so hard to just accept a thank you?

She nearly rolled her eyes and almost persisted that he didn't need to thank her, but instead she shook his hand (they definitely weren't on a hugging level yet) and began to exit his office.

Amelia nearly shut the door behind her before he called out to her.

"Leave it open, Amelia." He was smiling.

Amelia didn't have to turn around to know that.

✺

Amelia had not visited Agent Hotchner during her stay at the office today, and that was not because she was doing her usual regime of ignoring her (major) problems in life.

She was actually going about fixing them.

(Even if that was totally the wrong term, but Amelia kept sticking with it)

She was currently brushing her teeth with a notepad and pen in hand as she tried to jot down all the things her attack had made her feel and why she had even had it in the first place.

She'd started with the word; SHIT.

And hadn't thought of anything else since.

(Yes, it had been written over multiple times and was underlined)

She was trying her best and coming up blank.

And thank goodness her doorbell had gone off to interrupt her before brain exploded.

Amelia didn't even think of her current state before opening her front door. The slippers, pjs and toothbrush in mouth told her friends that the girl was getting ready for bed at eight in the evening...

Amelia was tired.

Amelia's eyes widened, "What are you doing here?"

Her eyes looked out onto all of her friend's confused faces.

She realized they hadn't understood a word of what she'd said because of the toothbrush in her mouth.

Amelia held a finger up to them and went to the nearest sink (in her kitchen), spitting and swirling the toothpaste out with the tap before quickly returning to the door.

"It's like eight o'clock, why are you all wearing dungarees?" Amelia looked at Penelope and a disgruntled Emily behind her, "Except Rossi and Hotchner."

Even Derek was in a pair of dungarees.

Suddenly, Penelope pulled a roller out from behind her, "We're going to paint your apartment!"

Emily nodded her head, "Derek said it reminded him of an asylum."

Derek hit her upside the head and spoke through gritted teeth, "I told you not to say that."

Emily scoffed, "Like I listen to you."

JJ rolled her eyes, "This is a nice activity, stop bickering."

Amelia hummed and pull the door open further, "The white walls are a bit creepy and a bit much."

Derek held his hands up, "Thank you!"

Amelia raised a brow, "I didn't say you could call it asylum like."

Spencer chuckled, "Serves you right."

"Watch it, pretty boy, or this roller will be somewhere the sun don't shine."

JJ flicked him on the ear.

Amelia let them into the apartment and didn't feel the overwhelming need to hide her whiteboard from them.

It wasn't obsessive after all.

Apparently it was impressive.

"What color did you bring, P?" Amelia questioned, noticing the woman had made Derek and Hotchner drag it all the way up to the apartment.

Penelope squealed in excitement, Amelia didn't know if it was from the nickname or the paint color, "So, a home is a place to destress right? So, I got this dark blue color for the living room because Derek said it would match your cream couch and that you already had some dark blue cushions. And I was thinking a few grey walls, maybe? Just to tie the two colors together?"

Amelia nodded her head.

She liked the idea of dark blue in her entry way, and the grey would work perfectly with the brick walls in her living room.

"And for your bedroom I got this lilac color! It's perfect for you, Amelia. It's honestly to die for!" Penelope made the Unit Chief pop open the tin of paint.

Amelia squealed when she saw the color inside, "That's my favorite color!"

"Shut up! It's my second favorite!"

The two girls squealed as Emily approached, "What rooms are we all painting?"

Penelope pulled a notepad out of her pocket, "Okay, okay, so, Derek and Spencer you are on entry room duty," she pointed a finger at them, "Do not make me regret it."

Derek rolled his eyes and led Spencer in the right direction, with the dark blue tin of paint in hand.

"Em and JJ you are on bedroom duty, Amelia can choose which walls, but I trust you two the most to not get any paint on her bed or anything like that." She ticked their names off with a pink pen.

"We heard that!" Derek shouted from the room he and Spencer had got situated in.

Penelope rolled her eyes, "And then the two oldies have got the living room because that's the most work and I don't want to do it."

Dave and Aaron both narrowed their eyes at her teasing.

"What? I've got decorating to do!" Penelope told them as JJ and Emily walked off with the tin of paint and laughing.

"Where do you want me?" Amelia asked.

"On the couch, not doing anything." Penelope instructed.

Amelia pulled a face.

"Nu-uh, don't do that. We are decorating your apartment for you, and you are going to sit there and critique everyone's painting skills." Penelope told her sternly. "Now where is your printer, I want to print some of my Derek pictures and some of you with us."

Amelia frowned, "I think it's in the guest room, good luck getting to it though, there's a lot of boxes."

"What's in these boxes?"

"Snow globes." Amelia responded without missing a beat.

"Snow globes?" David asked with confused etched on his face.

Amelia nodded happily, "Yeah! I moved around a lot as a kid so I thought I'd get a little memory of each state, so I decided to collect snow globes. I still do it when I go away and stuff."

She gasped, "Oh! There's this really nice one, Dave, you'd really like it!"

"I'll fish it out for you!" She offered as Dave shrugged and went to set himself up for painting.

Penelope hummed happily to herself as she made her way to the guest room to somehow find the printer.

Amelia gasped as she stood next to the Unit Chief and raced over to the kitchen to get her notepad, "This is for you."

His eyes scanned the page that said; SHIT and nothing else. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"That's how my panic attack made me feel." Amelia smiled at him, "You said I could talk to you and that's all I could come up with right now. I'm trying to find some other words but that's all I've got right now."

He looked down at her with somewhat of a smile, "Good."

Amelia's eyes widened.

"Oh, no. Not like that. It's not good that you had the attack of course, but it's good that you're trying to find the words, Amelia. It's really good."

"It feels good." She admitted quietly.

And to that Aaron Hotchner smiled.

And Amelia even felt like she wanted to admit that today was the best day she'd had in a while.

This was the best she'd felt in a years time.

That was progress.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
i got so carried away LMAO it i love them guys
and amelia has good things coming for the next chapter i swear ☝🏼

THIS IS AMELIA'S SONG IDC !!