AN: hey guys! happy monday! <3

we have some family bonding today to cheer everybody up a little bit after the past few chapters :)

TWs:
descriptions of injuries
mentions of murder
mentions of abuse
mentions of drug addiction

i hope you guys enjoy! <3

•

" 'am i my brother's keeper?' asks his brother's murderer. aren't we indeed the keepers of our dead?" - valzhyna mort

•

The immediate aftermath of any trauma is never as eventful as the months following, or the months prior. It was always how it went with Delilah. She was numb for the first few weeks, stumbling through the days in a blind haze, like she wasn't really there, and then it would all hit her.

She would fall apart.

Until then, the days trickled by.

The first night back in Virginia, Dave had taken them to the apartment and then went back out to check out some houses for them. Liv had barely managed to get Ziggy on the sofa before he was fast asleep, and Delilah wasn't too far behind him. The dumb dog was curled up at the end of the sofa, gentle snores filling the room.

They slept through the rest of the day, and the night, and most of the next day. They woke up for periodic doses of pain medication and wound cleanses and, every time, more and more of the apartment was packed up into boxes. The dog stayed in the same spot, as close to Ziggy as he could get.

They'd gotten back to Virginia on the first of November, the same day Ziggy and Delilah had been found, and, by the fourth, all they'd done was sleep. Liv relocated them to their beds, or to her bed so she could keep an eye on them, but they'd just slept.

They truly didn't have the energy to do much else.

When they did wake up after their three day hibernation, it was to a spread of pasta and pizza that Dave had cooked up, and Liv was packing up the family photos in bubblewrap so they didn't smash.

"You find somewhere, then?" Delilah asked, picking the pepperoni off her slice of pizza so she could nibble at it.

Ziggy was already four slices in, pizza sauce and cheese smeared over his face. Dave was almost as messy. The dog, who Ziggy had yet to rename, sat at Ziggy's feet with his head tilted to the side. The three adults all pretended they couldn't see Ziggy feeding the dog meatballs under the table.

"I did," Dave said. "The papers will be in my name by Friday, and then we can officially move in by Monday. I'm having decorators come over during the weekend. I'm going to need you guys to pick colours for your rooms."

"I'm gonna paint Ziggy's room. Just do a white base coat," Liv said.

"You got it," Dave nodded. "Lilah?"

"Uh, anything," Delilah murmured. "I'm barely home, anyway."

"Oh, that reminds me," Liv said. "Jace said he'll meet with you in a week. He's waiting for me to confirm the infection is gone."

"Is it gone?" Delilah asked, having felt Liv cleaning it several times while she was in and out of sleep.

"Almost," Liv said. "It's healing well."

Delilah nodded, chewing on her pepperoni. She flicked a piece of pizza under the table to the dog, Ziggy giggling as the dog caught it in his mouth and ate it in two bites.

"Strauss called, too," Liv said. "Wants to set up interviews over the weekend, so you two can start with therapy next week. She said something about Vince having a list for the kid?"

"Yeah," Delilah murmured. "I got him to pick the best child therapists."

"I have to go to therapy?" Ziggy asked. "Will there be pizza?"

"I'll teach you how to make pizza after it," Dave said.

"Deal," Ziggy shrugged. "What do I talk about in therapy? The, uh," Ziggy said, glancing at Delilah, "Do we have a name for this?"

"You can just say it," Delilah said. "And you talk about anything you want. Doesn't have to be Elliot. Can be your dad, or Talia. Or the foster system. Whatever."

"I could talk about elephants?" Ziggy asked.

"Well, dad's paying, so, talk about whatever you want," Liv said.

Ziggy grinned over at Dave.

"I'm gonna talk about so much shit," Ziggy said.

"Good," Dave chuckled. "That's the point."

"Is it normal to sleep as long as we did?" Ziggy asked.

"After a traumatic event?" Dave asked. "Yes. Sometimes, the body just can't cope with what's happened. Think of it like a computer battery. You can charge it in little bits, but sometimes it needs a full charge to one hundred. Your body needed real sleep, not just survival sleep."

"That makes sense," Ziggy said. "So, this new house, what's it like?"

"Big," Liv said. "More space than we need."

"I figured we should leave room for guests, and I don't doubt that Zara and little Jack will be having sleepovers with you girls again, and they'll need bedrooms. There's a big garden for the dog, and you, young man. And, this way, we can set up a home office for whenever you guys want to do some work," Dave said.

"What about you?" Ziggy asked. "What's your job, now?"

"I'm retired and I write books, give lectures, educate others," Dave said. "I'm not sure what my plans are. I may return to the BAU in Delilah's absence, fill the gap on the team as a favour for Hotch. And for Strauss. She's done a lot for us this week."

Delilah picked at a few more pieces of pepperoni with a small frown.

"I think I'm gonna get a shower, start packing my room up. I have way too many clothes," Delilah said.

"Need a hand?" Liv asked.

"After my shower, sure," Delilah said, eyeing the splints holding her broken knuckles into place. "Packing probably isn't the best move with dodgy hands."

"Probably not," Liv said. "You're gonna do it anyway?"

"Duh," Delilah said, sliding off the chair. "I'm going to shower."

"Don't wash your hair," Liv said. "We're gonna have to do that one together, I'm afraid. You can't condition with your broken fingers."

"You're a terrible gay with broken fingers, aunt Lilah," Ziggy said, kicking his legs at the island until Dave winced and shifted on his seat, clearly getting kicked in the shins. "How's JJ gonna cope?"

"Why do you know things like that?" Dave asked.

Ziggy raised an eyebrow at Dave, sipping on his soda through his straw.

"Take a wild guess why I know way too much about stuff like that," Ziggy said. "I can guarantee, you'll never get it."

"Cheeky," Dave chuckled. "Eat your pizza."

"Is JJ gonna be around?" Ziggy asked, taking a bite of his pizza. "Or Emily?"

"I don't know," Liv said. "And probably."

Delilah nodded. It made sense, in her mind. JJ was completely out of her depth with this, and Delilah didn't even know where they stood in terms of their relationship. Emily got this, even if she didn't get it specifically. She was a spy like Delilah, and she'd clearly bonded with Liv during this.

Maybe Liv knew Emily was more like Delilah than anyone else on the team. Maybe Liv found security and comfort in Emily because she knew that Emily wasn't going to judge them over any of this.

It made sense why Emily would be around, and why JJ might not be.

"They did offer to help us move," Liv said. "The team. Emily, too. She's gonna help me decorate Ziggy's room."

"That'll be good," Delilah said. "She's tall enough to reach the ceiling."

"Are you calling me short?" Liv frowned.

"Yeah," Delilah smiled. "Going to shower!"

"Ziggy isn't far behind you," Dave said, eyeing his grandson's pizza covered face. "Maybe we need a hose instead of a shower."

"I'm not a dog," Ziggy said. "He is," he said, looking at the dog at his feet.

"No? You're eating like him," Dave said.

Liv and Delilah shared a look as Delilah walked backwards down the hallway to her room. The two sisters smiled at each other, listening to the two boys bicker over menial things.

This was going to be their new normal.

Delilah loved it. This was the most she'd felt like part of a family in years, and that wasn't to be mean to Liv. They'd just never had a house this full and happy in their lives, even before everything fell to shit. They'd never been truly happy.

Maybe now was their chance to settle down, build that happy family unit.

"Hey," Delilah called, stopping in her bedroom doorway.

Liv, Dave, and Ziggy looked over at her, matching smiles on their faces.

"I love you guys," Delilah said.

Their smiles all grew. Dave chuckled, beaming. Liv and Ziggy's eyes squinted in the corners in the same way Eli's used to do, their smiles higher on the left side than the right, matching dimples prominent in their cheeks.

"I love you," the three of them chorused.

Delilah smiled, slipping into her bedroom to go for a shower. She closed the door behind her, walking into the bathroom and closing that door behind her, too.

Everything was the same as she'd left it. Delilah turned the shower on warm, leaving it to heat up while she started undoing the bandages and splints around her knuckles. She dropped them on the side of the sink for now, staring down at her hands with a blank look.

The swelling was almost gone, though the stiffness remained. The bruises bloomed across her skin like different shades of a flower garden; red, pink, yellow, blue, purple, green. The cuts across the grooves of her knuckles where she'd split the skin were starting to scab over in a purple-black colour. No infections, at least.

Delilah put her hands on either side of the sink, staring down at the evidence of her violent nature left on her skin. It ran deeper than just her skin, though. It was in her blood, her genetics, her bones. She couldn't escape what she'd always been, and she couldn't hide from it anymore.

Delilah swallowed, wincing at the ache in her throat, and looked up to stare at her own reflection in the mirror.

The bruises around her throat had started to fade, remaining in similar shades as the ones on her hands. The imprint of the chain was still stained there, though that memory would last longer than the evidence.

The imprint of Ros' necklace was still stained there, hidden underneath the actual pendant. Delilah didn't take it off, again. She wouldn't until she could return it to JJ and get Dylan's necklace back. She wanted that necklace back more than anything.

She wanted Dylan back, her Dylan back. Not corpse Dylan that had been in the basement, not victim Dylan that he'd been at the end, but her Dylan.

She knew he'd hate what she'd become, even if he would understand. How could anyone like the person she'd become when she didn't even herself?

Delilah reached up to rub her face, pausing with her hand inches away from the cuts on her face. She couldn't move her hand out of the position it was in, and she knew she shouldn't touch or move either set of injuries around.

The scar was a disgusting reminder of what he'd done to her, why he'd done it, and he was right. She did see her father every time she stared in the mirror, and it had taken her until she was two years into the BAU to stop seeing that the first time. That was barely fourteen years after the last time she'd seen her father.

Delilah was back where she started, and she didn't want to walk this road again.

So, she tugged her clothes off as carefully as she could, ignoring the fading bruises around her wrists and ankles from the chains, ignored the fading bruises on her ribs from the beatings, ignored the healing stab wound on her thigh, and climbed in the shower to get clean.

No amount of soap and water could clean her, though. It wasn't her body that was dirty and ruined. It was her soul, and that was something she'd have to live with forever.

•

•

Delilah was wearing Liv's pyjamas again. The faded dinosaurs were colourful against the dark blanket Delilah had wrapped around herself after putting the splints back on her hands and managing to brush through her hair.

She was sat in front of her bookshelf, staring at the multitude of books she'd collected over the years and the empty boxes she was going to pack them into. She didn't think it was wise to do it herself, but she could hear the dulled sounds of a movie playing in the living room and Dave's snoring so she figured Ziggy was probably asleep too, and Liv would be in soon.

There was a knock at Delilah's door, and Delilah couldn't help but smile slightly to herself.

"Come in," Delilah said.

The door swung open, Liv stepping into the room with two cups in her hands.

"Made tea, and came to help you pack," Liv said, kicking the door shut behind her. "Dad and the kid are out for the count on the couch with the dog."

"Thanks," Delilah smiled.

Liv put the two cups on top of the bookshelf, sitting down beside Delilah.

"How are we sorting them?" Liv asked.

"They're in alphabetical order of the author's surnames, so, start from the end and work to the start?" Delilah said.

"Sure thing," Liv said, starting to remove books from the bottom shelf starting at the Z authors. "How was your shower?"

"Refreshing," Delilah said. "How's packing going?"

"I'm about halfway through. I've been stir crazy these past few days," Liv admitted. "Lilah, I'm sorry."

Delilah blinked at her. She had no idea what Liv could be apologising for.

"What? Why are you sorry?" Delilah asked.

"For ignoring you after Ziggy called off the fostering. I took my frustration out on you by ignoring you, and it wasn't fair. It wasn't your fault. I'm sorry for doing that," Liv said.

"Oh," Delilah said.

Truthfully, she'd forgotten about that. She would've done the same if the roles were reversed, so she couldn't be mad at Liv for it. She wasn't. Liv had got everyone together to find her and Ziggy. Liv was basically her mother, but she was only eight years older than Delilah.

Delilah forgot that sometimes, and Liv deserved more credit for everything she'd done. Delilah would be dead without Liv.

"You don't have to apologise for that. I forgot about it, to be honest. But, Liv, you know this still would've happened regardless of how you reacted?" Delilah said.

"I know. Elliot had a plan, and an end game in mind. Nothing would've stopped him. Not even me," Liv murmured, tilting her head to the side with a sigh.

Delilah sat there for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip before picking up her cup of tea, sipping on the sugary drink silently.

"You okay?" Liv asked, raising an eyebrow as she looked at Delilah. "We don't have to talk-"

"He killed mom, and he hurt Eli growing up. He told me. I don't know if the mom thing is true, but the Eli thing probably is. It's why he wanted Ziggy, why he waited until now. Eli was the same age as Ziggy when Elliot first started, and it always come back to the first victim. That's why he didn't just take me," Delilah rushed out.

Liv stared at her blankly.

"Mom had a heart attack," Liv said.

"He said that, the night before she died, she found out about what he was. She found the evidence, and she was gonna do something about it the next day. You took me to stay with Dylan, and you and Eli stayed with a friend. They argued all night. We went back the next morning to grab our school things, and you came by to pick up some homework you'd forgotten," Delilah said.

"She knew he was going to kill her," Liv said, eyebrows furrowed in a frown. "I always wondered why she made me promise to protect you that morning. I've never seen her that..."

"Manic?" Delilah asked.

"Stable," Liv shook her head. "That was the only time I remember her being clear and coherent. She was always... off. She was weird that morning, like she knew something I didn't. I guess this was that."

"Maybe," Delilah murmured. "How would he have staged it as a heart attack?"

"They just assumed it was a heart attack," Liv mumbled. "The autopsy showed significant damage on her heart and, due to the drug history she had, I think they went with the most plausible option of a heart attack and called it a day. There was also no reason to look further. Nobody thought he was a killer back then."

Delilah felt sick, but she sipped on her tea and nodded slowly.

"So, what, he has fourteen victims?" Liv said.

"Technically. Though, I suppose what crime we're looking at. He's murdered fourteen, that we know of, but he's assaulted sixteen, also that we know of," Delilah said.

Liv stared at her for a moment. Delilah frowned.

"What?" Delilah asked.

"You said sixteen," Liv said.

Delilah stayed silent.

The thirteen original boys, Eli, and Ziggy made fifteen. Delilah was sixteen, and it seemed that Liv knew exactly what Delilah was talking about.

Liv chewed on her bottom lip for a minute, then moved the R books into the box, reaching for the two Q books and dropping them in, too.

"Did he suffer?" Liv asked quietly.

"What?" Delilah said.

"Elliot. Did he suffer when you killed him?" Liv asked.

"You saw his body, or what was left of it. What do you think?" Delilah scoffed.

"I know what I saw, Delilah," Liv said.

The two of them just stared at each other for a minute. Liv didn't ask any other questions, but Delilah hadn't really answered her first question. Delilah sipped her tea, watching Liv continue to pack the books away in the box.

"Yes."

Liv glanced at her. Delilah held her gaze, knew she needed to get this off her chest to somebody. Liv would understand. Delilah knew Liv wouldn't hate her for what she had done, not now she knew the things Delilah had learnt about their family, about herself, while she was gone.

"I made sure he suffered," Delilah whispered. "It was self defence. He would've killed me."

"I know that," Liv said, eyes drifting to the bruises around her throat.

"I could've stopped," Delilah murmured. "I did stop, for a minute. He would've just died on his own, choked on his own blood. He had to have the last word."

"And then?" Liv whispered.

"And then I made damned sure I hit him harder the second time around," Delilah said.

Liv's lips quirked in a melancholy smile, something sad in her eyes as she took a short but deep breath. She tilted her head to the side.

"Good," Liv murmured. "He deserved worse than what you did to him."

"He did," Delilah agreed. She chewed her bottom lip. "Ziggy said the same."

Liv blinked. She looked down, then back at Delilah.

"I don't want him to end up like me, or like Eli," Delilah whispered. "The three of us were in the same boat. One of us drugged himself to death, and the other one of us is a murderer-"

"You're not a murd-"

"I killed him," Delilah said. "That makes me a murderer. We have to do better with him. He can't end up like Eli and I."

Liv stared at her for a moment, then nodded. Delilah was grateful she didn't fight her on this.

"We'll do better with him," Liv murmured. "We'll break the cycle."

Delilah nodded. She put her cup on top of the bookshelf, moving across the floor so she was closer to Liv. Liv wrapped an arm around Delilah's shoulders, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

"No matter what name you have, no matter where you are, or what you do, you will always be my baby sister before anything else," Liv whispered.

"I love you," Delilah murmured.

"I love you, Lilah."

•

•

Delilah lay on her bed later that evening.

It was dark outside, the curtains left open to let the moonlight and whitish glow of the stars illuminate the room. Delilah could hear Dave still snoring in the living room, and she could hear the sound of a bath being ran in Liv's bathroom.

There was no noise going on in Delilah's room. There wasn't any need for her to drown her thoughts out with noise.

For the first time in weeks, Delilah's head was quiet enough for her to withstand the silence.

Liv understood what she did. Liv understood why she did it. Liv didn't hate her for it.

People would have their opinions, Delilah herself had her opinions about what she did, but the guilt seemed to have faded.

Elliot Milner deserved to die. Delilah had done the world a favour by murdering him.

Two quiet knocks broke the silence. Delilah propped herself up on her elbows, turning her head towards the door.

"Yeah?" Delilah said.

The door opened and Delilah couldn't help but chuckle.

Ziggy stood in the doorway on a pair of crutches, clearly fresh out of the shower judging by the wet hair drying in curls in front of his eyes and the brand new dinosaur pyjamas that matched the ones Delilah was wearing.

"Huh," Ziggy said, eyeing the dinosaur pyjamas. "Liv's one of those matchy family pyjama people, then?"

"I'm afraid so," Delilah chuckled. "You okay?"

"Bored," Ziggy sighed. "Dave's asleep, and I don't wanna play my gameboy, and Liv's going to get a bath 'cause she looks stressed and I told her it might help."

"So, I'm the solution to your boredom," Delilah said.

"Hopefully," Ziggy said, looking around her room curiously.

The bookshelf was entirely boxed up, as were most of the trinkets around Delilah's room. Her wardrobe was also half empty, only necessities kept out. Liv had packed almost everything in record time.

Liv used to joke that Delilah was born with a suitcase in her hand. If that was true, Liv was born with packing tape in hers. Together, the two of them were a perfect recipe for packing their entire life up and running away before you could realise they were even thinking about leaving.

"Did you choose this room because of the windows?" Ziggy asked.

"Yeah," Delilah said. "You can come in, dude."

Ziggy hobbled into the room, the dog moving to stand in the doorway where Ziggy had just been.

"What about him?" Ziggy asked.

"He can come in," Delilah said. "We own the place. He also seems well trained, according to dad."

"He is," Ziggy said, dropping onto the sofa by the window. "Close the door."

The dog walked into the room, turning and jumping up. His paws hit the door and it pushed with his weight, closing over. The dog jumped back down, moving over to sit at the side of Ziggy on the couch.

"Smart dog," Delilah mumbled. "He got a name?"

"I'm renaming him," Ziggy said. "Sparky isn't the right name."

"What are you thinking?" Delilah asked.

"No idea," Ziggy shrugged. "The stars are pretty."

"Yeah," Delilah murmured, walking over to sit beside him on the couch. "They always are."

"I get it," Ziggy said. "The star thing."

"Yeah?" Delilah said.

"Find the North star, follow it home," Ziggy recited the same motto Delilah had lived by during her time in the woods. "You didn't tell me you were a David Bowie fan."

Delilah blinked at him.

She loved David Bowie as a kid. Some of her only good memories with Eli were to the soundtrack of the Ziggy Stardust album. On the rare nights that Liv wasn't home when Elliot and Violet were fighting, she remembered Eli putting the vinyl on and turning it up as loud as it would go.

He'd always push his desk to block the door, and he'd drag Delilah off his bed to dance around the room until all she could hear was their laughter and David Bowie. She'd always start getting tired by the time they got to the Ziggy Stardust song.

Eli would lie beside her on the bed, the two of them underneath the glow in the dark stars stuck to the ceiling, and he'd sing the song to her while playing the air guitar. Her giggles would fade into an awed smile as he got to the last few lines, singing about the kids killing the man and having to break up the band.

"I put all my records into storage the day we found out your dad died," Delilah whispered.

"Your favourite album was The Rise of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars," Ziggy said.

Delilah stared at Ziggy.

His name was Ziggy. Ziggy meant victorious protector, but Delilah didn't think Eli would've even known that if he'd picked the name. And he must've picked the name, because why else would Ziggy be Ziggy?

"Liv's favourite was Led Zeppelin growing up," Ziggy said, stroking the dog's head for a minute.

Zepp. Eli's daughter. He'd picked both of their names, and he'd picked names that reminded him of his sisters. Eli was the only reason either of them listened to those artists growing up.

Eli swore he hated Delilah until his dying breath. She'd seen him for the last time when she was seventeen, when he was twenty seven. Ziggy wasn't even born, then. Zepp was. Liv still talked to Eli back then. Delilah had refused to ever speak to him again after he threw Dylan back in her face, so, she'd stayed silent as he ranted and raved about why he hated her, no matter how much it hurt her to see her brother hate her this way.

And then, two years later, he went on to name his son after an album that he and Delilah had bonded over before their lives fell to shit.

Maybe he'd never hated her. Maybe she'd never hated him. Maybe she'd just never understood why Eli was the way he was until now. They were in the same boat, after all. Both of them had fallen victim to Elliot Milner. Both had survived his hands, only for one to die of his own destruction.

They were more alike than Delilah had realised, and she wished he was alive more than anything right now so she could tell him she'd ended it, so he could know he was finally safe from the second father that had abused him.

"You know," Delilah started, "I think dad could arrange for those records to be shipped over from California when he sends for the rest of his things. We could set you up a vinyl station in your room, get you a guitar like Ziggy had in the song if you wanted."

Ziggy grinned at her, bruised eyes squinted in the corners, and nodded.

"I'd really like that. Thank you," Ziggy said.

Delilah smiled softly at him, at the little boy that looked so much like his father.

Ziggy was named for Delilah. He had survived in that basement because of Delilah. It felt strange, and Delilah was sure she was insane, but it felt like Eli had predicted this with some sick sense of foreshadowing and irony. It was a full circle moment, at the least.

"I think we have Uno cards somewhere," Delilah said. "Wanna play?"

"What's Uno?" Ziggy asked.

"What's Uno?" Delilah repeated. "What, have you been living under a rock?"

"No, in a basement, actually," Ziggy grinned.

"Fair," Delilah laughed, getting to her feet. "I'll grab the cards. Get comfy. Want anything from the kitchen?"

"Uh, a drink, please?" Ziggy asked. "And a snack for Bowie."

The dog whined, ears flattening.

"Okay. Feels kinda rude to not wanna be called Bowie when I have a David Bowie name, but, sure. We'll figure it out," Ziggy told the dog.

Delilah laughed again, heading down the hallway to grab the Uno cards and some drinks and snacks.

•