𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲
ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ
𝗮 𝗳𝗲𝘄 𝗱𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘶

     "𝐈𝐭'𝐬 him," Penelope frets as she makes small, swift steps down the BAU hallway with her heels. "I'm pretty sure it's him, it's blurry and he's not, like, posing for the camera or anything like that, but you said he'd come and it's been a while, and now he's here, and—"

Derek meets her halfway and they head straight to her office. "Garcia, calm down, let me take a look," he says, quieting her rant.

Garcia sits at her desk once again as Derek leans down behind her. She zooms in on the security footage outside of Louise's house. There, in a blurry frame, Derek can recognize Ian Doyle clear as day. Driving by Louise and Declan's house with his window down, eyes trained towards the home.

"That's definitely him," Derek groans. "What's he planning?"

"That's not all," Penelope says as she pulls up another video. "I was looking past that day to see if he had come back at all, but it wasn't Doyle that I found..."

Derek watches as she pulls up a video of someone walking up the sidewalk to the house. Penelope zooms in on the person, clearing the image, but it doesn't take much for Derek to recognize this one either, even without the new red hair. His heart pounds, anger and guilt fusing together to bear weight on his chest.

"What the hell?" he mutters.

"Why would she know about this?" Penelope asks as she looks at the image of Noah heading straight up to the porch of her half-brother's house.

"Looks like the kid decided to do her own investigation," he says through gritted teeth. "Time to call in reinforcements," he adds. He pulls out his phone and dials the number of Hotch's satellite phone.

After the first ring, there's a voice. "Hotchner," he answers over the sound of men yelling orders and helicopters flying in and out.

"Hey, it's me," Derek replies. "How's it going out there?"

"You know, long days, some territorial issues to work out, nothing surprising. How's everything there?"

"Hotch, we found Declan Doyle."

"What?"

"Listen, I knew that finding the kid was the only way I could find Doyle, Hotch. I know what you're thinking, man."

"Is Declan safe?"

"Yeah, he is for now. I've had surveillance at his house and his school for a few weeks."

"Morgan, I didn't authorize this," Aaron says lowly, but he isn't as shocked as he should be.

"I know you didn't, Hotch, but listen to me, I think Doyle may have found Declan too."

"Alright, I'm coming back," Aaron replies.

"You want me to wait?" Derek asks, only now looking for some command.

"Morgan, it could be a trap. You make sure you have eyes on Doyle."

"And if it is him?"

"Then, you take the shot."

Derek calls the team into the round table room. Penelope pulls up the images on her tablet, her eyes drifting to the blurry image of Noah. She and Derek decided not to tell the team about Noah, it will only make them worry and they need to be focused on Doyle.

"What's going on?" JJ asks as she walks into the round table room. She looks around at everyone, the only person absent being Spencer.

"We've been investigating Doyle," Derek answers as he stands at the front of the room with Penelope.

"What?" Dave asks. "I didn't know we were doing that."

"Because we weren't," Derek replies. "We figured it'd be hard on all of us, so we sort of took it on by ourselves."

"Why?" JJ asks. "You think we don't wanna find him too?"

"There wasn't much we could do anyways," Penelope steps in. "Until now," she adds as she shows pictures on the TV screen.

"What's that?" Dave asks.

"This is Doyle outside of Declan's house," Derek answers.

"I thought Declan was in college," JJ says.

"He is, but the woman who took care of him still lives there and he goes back on breaks," Penelope explains. "But now Doyle knows where it is and probably has it staked out."

"I called Hotch and he's on his way back," Derek notes.

"Does this mean we're fully investigating?" Dave asks as he sits down at the round table, everyone mirroring his actions.

"Yes," Derek replies. "And this might be our only shot."

𝗮 𝗳𝗲𝘄 𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀 𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿
𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘬'𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵

"Shit," Noah mutters under her breath. "Where the hell is it?" she asks herself as she bends down to look under her bed.

Noah groans as she can't find her phone. She has looked everywhere and rolls her eyes as she stands up. She runs her hands through her hair and glances around her room again. She sucks her teeth and picks up her notebook full of notes on her investigation, hurling it against the wall.

She turns to look at the notebook and notices Derek standing in the doorway, holding her phone up.

"I didn't hear you come in," she says nonchalantly.

"I've been here for a little," he replies as he bends down to grab the notebook.

"Uhm—" Noah takes a step toward him, not wanting him to see her notes.

"You should come out here," Derek says as he holds onto the notebook, reading some of it. "We need to talk."

Noah looks at him curiously and follows him out to the living room. She sees Penelope standing by the dining table, making her furrow her brows.

"What's going on?" she asks.

"Sit," Derek says with his arms crossed.

Noah looks between him and Penelope. She's seen this scene before. They found out she did something wrong and they're going to play good cop, bad cop. She mostly looks at Penelope, pleading for her to sympathize with her for whatever she did.

"Don't look at her," Derek says, catching her strategy already. "Is there anything you wanna tell us?" he asks.

"No," Noah replies, almost too quickly.

"No?" he asks.

"No."

"Noah," Penelope coos.

Derek holds his hand up to the blonde, not wanting Noah to take this lightly. "We know what you're doing," he snaps as he holds up her notebook. "This. This is dangerous. What the hell are you doing making notes about Doyle and Declan?"

"It's just...random stuff," the teen says, trying to think of a lie. "Things that he told me and that I figured out."

"You just figured out that Declan lived with a woman named Louise?" Derek questions her. "Or that his father was killed by the British government because he supported the Irish Republican Army?"

Noah looks up at Derek with furrowed brows. "I don't know if that's true," she shrugs.

"Noah, c'mon—"

"Seriously," Noah insists.

"Noah, it was in our files."

Noah looks down at the table, tracing the wood pattern with her eyes. Derek continues to talk, but Noah can barely hear him. The haunting truth of the story she made up about her father simmers in her mind. But did she really make it up?

"It just gets better," Ian says with a smirk as he steps out from behind Derek, Noah's eyes following his every pace. "Psychopathically knowing my childhood? Or are you forgetting pieces of that night?"

Noah closes her eyes, telling herself that he's not real. Eventually, he'll go away, right?

"Did I tell you that story or did you just get lucky?" he keeps asking, drowning out Derek's lecture. "How do you know that I didn't have you drugged? Do you remember how you got to the warehouse?"

Stop, Noah pleads in her head, begging her own mind to let her go. Please, stop. He's not real.

"What if you could have saved her, but something in your mind decided to stop you?" Ian asks with a sinister smile. "Was Liam real? Did you really kill him? I mean, honestly, do you remember that night as well as you think you do?"

Noah puts her hands in her hair as she bows her head. Derek continues to lecture her, thinking he has her right where he wants her so that she'll finally listen—so he can keep her safe. But Penelope knows this side of Noah. It's the side that has nightmares and cries to herself the second she's alone, thinking no one will know.

"Stop," Penelope says to Derek, her tone taking him by surprise.

The blonde sits in the chair beside Noah's and puts a hand on her shoulder. She feels the subtle shake of the teen's shoulders, the feeling of her trying to conceal her emotions.

"Listen, kid, I don't wanna be harsh, but this is some real dangerous stuff you were looking into," Derek says, correcting his tone and leaning his hands on the table. "Emily was an adult, she wouldn't have let me help, even if I had known her past with him. But I'll be damned if I let him anywhere near you. Don't make that harder for me."

Noah takes a deep breath and lifts her head. "I'm sorry, I just...I feel like I can't move on until I know what happened and why he did what he did."

"Noah, he's a psychopath," Derek mutters. "He wanted revenge on the person who caught him. I understand it's frustrating, but we talked about this. You gotta let me know what's going on in your head."

Penelope looks between them, wondering what conversation he's referring to.

"I knew you wouldn't tell me if I asked—"

"Because you're a kid," Derek sighs. "If Emily was here, she'd do the same thing."

"And that's why she's not here anymore," Noah tells him, feeling like she's exhausted herself trying to get her point across.

"She's not here anymore because a psychopath committed crimes and has a twisted definition of revenge."

"Do you know what it feels like—"

"We talked about this—"

Noah raises her voice louder than his to talk over him. "Do you know what it feels like to have a psychopath's killer, twisted blood running through you?!" she shouts, leaning into the table as if it makes her words more clear. "Do you know what it feels like to be tied up by your own father that you met minutes before that?! I don't think you do!"

"You yelling doesn't solve anything—"

"Really?!" she asks, sarcastically referring to his lecture just moments before. "Penelope."

"You were yelling," Penelope says to Derek, avoiding eye contact.

"The fact that Emily kept all of this from me makes me sick to my stomach," Noah continues with her voice lower. "I hate being kept in the dark and she knew that. And now here I am, still in the dark, and the only people who can answer my questions are either dead or a psychopath."

"When this is all over..." Derek says, reaching out to put his hand over Noah's. "I can tell you everything you wanna know. But for now, let us take this off of your shoulders. Let us take care of you."

Noah peers into Derek's eyes, but shows no sign of agreeing.

"How much did you read?" he asks.

"Not much—"

"Noah," he says firmly.

She rolls her eyes and answers honestly. "All of it."

Derek groans quietly and pinches his nose while Penelope puts a hand on his shoulder, trying to act as the middleman.

"Okay, listen, Noah, this has put us in a tough position—"

"How?" the teen questions.

"Because you looked at classified FBI files, Noah!" he raises his voice again.

"And you investigated something that wasn't authorized!" Noah shouts back at him, standing from her seat. "As far as I'm concerned, this was a personal side project for both of us."

Penelope opens her mouth to interject, but Noah walks away, slamming her bedroom door. The blonde turns to Derek but isn't sure what to say to make it better. She understands both of their frustrations, but she would do anything to keep Noah safe, even if it meant making her angry.

ɴᴏᴀʜ

I lean my back against the door, taking deep breaths to calm myself. I close my eyes, praying that my father doesn't show up again. I can't bear to look at his smug smile again, especially since the line between illusion and reality is blurry.

Maybe I've made a mistake, drawn Ian closer to me. Maybe I keep seeing him because, in some twisted way, I'm trying to hold onto him. Am I blind to the fact that I could be longing for him because my mother is gone?

I can't lie to myself, I'm curious about him. I want to know his story, that's why I made it up on my own. I want to know why he did what he did and what his intentions were when he sent people to keep an eye on me. Was it a man seeking revenge or a father clawing at the smallest shred of his daughter?

Why can I see him, but not my mother? Why can I talk to him, but not her?

I remember what Dr. Stephenson had said. I can't think about his side of the story. He doesn't deserve any sympathy from me, not after what he took from me. And it wasn't my fault that my mother's fate became what it did, it's his.

Sometimes, I get so lost in the confusion that I wish he could just be erased from my life. Even though I begged to know more about him, I wish I had never met him. And even if fate made him my father, I wish I never had to know. Some people would try to forget about it, but is that possible?

I feel him in everything that I am and do. He's all around me in my dreams and nightmares, in the corner of every room I'm in, and hovering in the very air I breathe. I can see him in the mirror when I look into my own eyes. I can hear his voice influencing every decision I make. I can feel him in my blood as it rushes through me.

I glance down at the four-leaf clover burned into my inner forearm. It doesn't help much either. I gently rub my finger across it, feeling the uneven skin and remembering the pain. It's strange how that was the least painful consequence of it all.

I turn my head to scan the nightstand. I pull the top drawer open and see the box of bandaids. I've spent more on bandaids than I have on anything else. I grab one and open the packaging with my teeth. I slowly place the bandaid over the scar, feeling the familiar relief as it covers the sinful mark. For a moment, with the scar hidden, it feels like I can forget, even if just for a few seconds.