𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐈 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮
ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘺
𝗽𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗹𝗼𝗽𝗲'𝘀 𝗮𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁

"𝐍𝐨𝐚𝐡," the sound of Derek's voice comes from the other side of the bathroom door followed by loud knocking. "Hey, c'mon, kid."

Noah silently rolls her eyes as she leans over the sink. Derek knocks again and Noah lifts her head, revealing her reflection to herself. Her face is drained of its color and her eyes have heavy bags under them. This is the first time she's left the bed in hours, but she's gotten no sleep.

"Noah," Derek repeats as he knocks again.

The teen stands up straight and opens the door. She glares at Derek, daring him to speak again. She walks to Penelope's bedroom and closes the door behind her, isolating herself once again.

"It's been like this for too long," Penelope mutters from the couch.

Derek looks over at her and shrugs. "We can't force her to do anything."

"Not even talk to us?" Penelope asks. "Let us in?"

Derek shakes his head. "It's not worth making her more upset."

In the bedroom, Noah sits on the hardwood floor. She needs a change of pace from the mattress and it almost feels like a punishment. For not going back, for letting Doyle take Emily away, for allowing herself to promise she would go on. She didn't think she would have to keep her promise.

Noah replays the night in her head over and over again. She can't stop herself from memorizing every detail. She wishes it never happened, but she doesn't want her last memory of Emily to disappear with the agony. No one knows better than Noah that you have to find the good in the situation, no matter how dark it is.

But eventually, she falls asleep. The memories turn into dreams, the dreams turn into nightmares. Derek carrying her to the bed turns into her being kidnapped in the street. Penelope's hand over hers turns into Doyle's sidekick grabbing her arm. The sheets turn into the suffocating feeling of being tied to the chair. Any sound turns into the ringing she heard when the shot she took killed a man.

And then she wakes up and reality settles. And she's back where she started.

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨
𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗮𝘂

"Is there anything about that day that you'd like to tell us?" Erin asks as she looks across the table at Noah. "Maybe how you got there? Do you remember anyone's face? Or maybe something about what happened to the man in the room you were found in?"

Noah doesn't move an inch. She hasn't since Derek told her to sit down in the chair. She stares at the table, her eyes tracing the swirling lines of the wooden surface.

Erin takes a deep breath and reaches to stop the recorder. It's clear to her that she won't be getting anything out of Noah for the time being. "How about how you're doing?" she asks.

Noah slowly looks up at the woman without moving her head. Her eyes flicker back down to the table and she's frozen again. Erin knows that was her way of saying she had asked a stupid question.

"Noah, if you want to move in with one of the team members, you have to talk to me," the woman pleads. "I can't do much to help you if you don't give me anything."

"He called him Liam," Noah mutters.

Erin sits up at the sound of the teen's voice. "What?"

"He called him Liam. My father did."

"Who was Liam?"

"The man in the room."

"Do you remember what he looked like?"

Noah glares at Erin, which causes the woman to look away. She doesn't understand how someone's eyes can be exhausted and drained of all life while simultaneously saying so much. They seem hungry for justice and revenge, but they just don't know how to get it when they're starved of determination.

Erin clears her throat as she speaks again. "Do you remember anything about him?"

"Do you remember the first time you killed someone?"

The woman shifts uncomfortably in her chair. "I've never...hurt someone in that manner."

"If you ever find yourself doing so, just know that you'll never forget their face," Noah says before her eyes flicker down to the tape recorder. "I guess you should have been recording that."

Erin opens her mouth to speak, but Noah stands up to walk out. She makes her way to the hallway, where she stops and takes a deep breath.

"Done?" Derek asks as he walks down the hallway towards her.

"Can we go back?"

"I have to finish some work and then we can go."

The teen walks alongside Derek, passing Aaron in the hallway. He turns as they pass him, looking back to analyze Noah. He can see that something went wrong. Between her body language and Erin calling him to her office, it's obvious.

"Ma'am," Aaron greets her as he walks into her office.

"Aaron," she sighs. "She's not ready."

"Ready for what exactly?"

Erin huffs and holds her hands out as a sign that she's sort of given up. "It's bad enough she's not living with a legal guardian, but she refuses to speak to me?"

"Ma'am—"

"I can only let so much go, Aaron—"

"She's suffering," Hotch interrupts her. "Her mother is dead and she was kidnapped, branded, and held at gunpoint. And that's not the first time one of those things has happened to her."

"You need to get her to talk. The brass won't allow her to stay with Agent Morgan if it doesn't appear to be truly beneficial to her."

"Ma'am, her mother was murdered by the biological father that she had never met before. I don't think a new place would do her any good."

"It would give her a chance to start over—"

"For the second time?" Aaron asks in frustration.

"Those aren't my words, they'll be the up tops," Erin replies, wanting him to know that she truly wants to help. "You need to be very careful with how you go about this. I can only help you so much."

Aaron walks out of the office, making his way back to the sixth floor. He sees Morgan talking to Noah in his office and heads straight there. He walks in and asks Derek to have a word with the teen, who looks up at him as if she can already hear what he's going to say.

The man sits in the chair beside the sofa, eyeing Noah with patience. "You have to talk to Strauss," he says softly. Before she can protest, he speaks again. "I know you don't want to and, trust me, if you didn't have to, I wouldn't ask you to. But she has to know what you want. She can't help us unless you tell her that this is what you want. And...be honest. Whatever you want, we want to give you."

"I want to get rid of the witness protection—"

"Anything but that," Aaron shuts her down.

"Aaron—"

"Doyle wants you. And not dead, he wants to bring you into his life and he will torture you until you reach the edge of death, but he'll bring you back every time. So no, we have to put you under our protection," he explains, but the side of him that's a father can't help but fall for her expression. "What would make this easier for you?"

"My mom," she whispers through her clenched jaw. "All I want is to talk to someone who's dead."

Aaron isn't sure what to say. He's not sure what she wants to hear. Everything feels like the wrong thing to say, so he gives her a tissue and offers a hand. Noah hesitates before she reaches across the table and places her hand in Aaron's.

"I know you don't want to talk about any of it. If anything, you want to run far away from it, I know that, but this can't be pushed aside."

Noah gazes up at him and after some hesitation, nods her head. "I'll tell her."

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨
𝗽𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗹𝗼𝗽𝗲'𝘀 𝗮𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁

Noah's body feels heavy as it sinks deeper into Penelope's mattress. Once again, she has closed the door, shutting everyone out. From the other side, she can hear Penelope and Derek's muffled voices. Penelope is crying, and Derek's comforting words about how everyone misses Emily only deepen the ache in Noah's chest. She tries to block out their conversation, but the silence of the room makes it impossible. It is in this fragile quiet that she clings to the memory of her mother's voice, replaying it over and over in her mind. Each whispered recollection is a lifeline, the only way to fend off the fear that one day, the memory of her voice will fade away.

It hurts. There's nothing more and nothing less to it. It's the type of ache that never goes away, never to be fully healed. Trying to get by each day makes the anger slowly dissipate. And while the storm subsides, clouds remain above the heavy truth that still feels unreal.

Pulling Noah out of the silence, Penelope softly knocks on the door. She opens it just enough to see if Noah is awake, seeing her back facing her in bed. It's like she hasn't moved in days.

"Noah? Sweetie?" Penelope coos as she places a gentle hand on Noah's shoulder. "You should get up and stretch out a little. You can come sit on the couch and I can make you something to eat."

"I don't want to," Noah mumbles.

"Why? I know, stupid question, but I want you to talk to me," the blonde pleads. "I need to know what you want and I need you to at least eat, you haven't since last night. I know you're hungry, you can't punish yourself—"

Noah sits up and turns around to face Penelope. "What makes you think I'm punishing myself?"

Penelope almost jumps at the sounds of the empty words. There's no emotion, no understanding that everyone feels the weight of their loss.

"You don't have to do this to yourself, you don't have to make it harder—"

"There is no making it harder!" Noah exclaims, making Penelope pull her hand away. "There's nothing worse than what happened, so no, I don't have to make it harder because that's impossible. This is as hard as it gets."

The teen slumps back against the headboard and picks at her nails. Penelope just waits for her to say something—anything.

"I'm not hungry," Noah mutters.

Penelope slowly nods and stands up, tears brimming in her eyes as she turns her back. She can't cry in front of Noah, it's not fair. She steps out of the bedroom and closes the door behind her, never showing Noah that her emotions are getting the better of her.

Derek looks up and stands at the sight of her tears. "Hey, what's goin' on?"

"I'm supposed to be strong for her," Penelope wails into her hands. "But I can't be strong for the both of us. I'm trying to be the rock that helps her grieve but I haven't grieved myself."

Derek furrows his brows and puts his arms around his friend. "You don't have to always be strong. Baby girl, it's okay to break down. It will show Noah that she's not alone because, right now, that girl thinks she's breaking and everyone else is doing okay. We're all trying to be a rock for her, but we don't have to be. We can show her that it's okay to break down those walls. And I know you don't want her to feel alone."

"I don't know if I can watch her like this," she says as she cries.

"Noah wasn't always like this," he replies. "And she won't be like this forever. All we have to do is help her find her way out. It could take months, it could take years. But she'll get out. And we'll be there waiting for her."

Penelope nods in agreement at his words. "I just think I underestimated how hard this would be. And how soft she's become. And even though it was undeniable, how much she loved Emily."

"That's a good thing," Derek says softly as he puts a hand on her cheek. "She'll love Emily forever and she deserves that."

Penelope nods again, finding it difficult to speak. Derek leads her to the sofa and sits down beside her.

"You know, you're the one who made her this way," he says. "When you were in the hospital, she refused to leave. She didn't want you to be alone. She even moved the chair in the waiting room so you could see her every time you looked outside. That was the first time I saw a different kid."

"Softer," Penelope mutters. "More patient and gentle."

"She told the woman in the cafeteria to find a red Jell-O because 'Penelope has to have the best.'"

Penelope smiles as she shakes her head. "She's always been a softie deep down, that wasn't me."

As Derek and Penelope smile with the weight on their shoulders, Noah can't do the same. She sits on the other side of Penelope's bedroom door with the back of her head pressed against the cold wood, tears streaming down her cheeks. She can hear the muffled voices of Derek and Penelope in the living room, their words piercing through the thin barrier as they talk about her.

"She just needs time."

But for Noah, time feels like an endless, empty chasm that had swallowed her mother and left nothing but echoes of loss. Each word from her mother's friends twists the knife of sorrow deeper into her heart, reminding her that they can't understand the void her mother had left behind. She hugs her knees tighter, hoping she could drown out their conversation, wishing her mother could come back, and fearing the day when their predictions might come true—when she might start to forget the sound of her mother's voice.