Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Therapists? Why would we need therapists?"

It was a non-case Monday, a rare one for these agents, according to what your supervisor said. It was also a perfect opportunity for Aaron Hotchner to gather the team around in the conference room and explain this new policy, and welcome a new... team member, sort of.

"You seem against this idea, Agent...?" You asked, standing next to Hotchner- Hotch, he asked you to call him that, an unconscious effort to ease you in- and in front of the whole team.

"Greenaway. Elle Greenaway- And no, no no, don't get me wrong, please, it wasn't mean to be demeaning." Her hand met yours in a firm shake as you reached out.

Determined. Driven. Ambitious. Confident.

Want to make a name for herself.

A little impatient.

"Nice to meet you, Agent Greenaway." You smiled. It's important to let her know you're not here to do a psych evaluation that will affect her job." As to why, I think it's really obvious right? Everyone has their own struggles and it's as much the FBI's responsibility to make sure you have coffee and cookies in the pantry, even if it's bad coffee, as it is responsible for your wellbeing. Mental wellbeing."

The BAU, as far as you know, especially needs this. They deal with the most crooked and disturbed criminal minds on a day to day basis, it's a matter of time until those experiences have some sort of negative impacts, even on the toughest minds here.

"See me as someone who will check up on you," You pulled out an empty chair around the round table and sit down. "A new friend, who you can talk to about problems without worrying about security breaches or me telling anyone, who you can come for advices, or just to sit with."

The several few days are not too interesting. You get your own office room, which you spent a good few days trying to transform it into something more... cozy.

The Quantico building itself was terrifying, fluorescent light bright, blinding even, from the ceilings, cold furniture with an agonising lack of personalities and warmth, pantry with tasteless cookies and coffee to fuel the minds of possibly the smartest agents in the country- you will have none of that.

It took you a whole morning to just order various chairs, couches, cushions and beanbags of various shapes and colours. You argued to get rid of the desk- utterly unnecessary and impractical- and opted for a makeshift conversation pit. You mostly work alone, really, the office itself was already busy and the BAU team are on their jet around the country almost everyday, so it was a bit of tiring task.

But help was offered when it's available. It started with Derek Morgan, who arrived surprisingly early in the morning one day to see you at the parking lot of Quantico, unloading huge cardboard boxes from your car.

"Hey," He seemed curious more than all, seeing the new team member with all sorts of unidentified boxes. "You need a hand? Oh right I don't know if you remember me, I'm De-"

"Special Agent Derek Morgan, yes, of course I remember you," You dropped the box you were carrying, and greeted him with a handshake and a friendly smile. "It's alright, they are just.. stuffs, really light stuffs, I can manage,"

"And I have an extra pair of arms and free time, mama, come on," He did not ask twice, eyeing around and stacked some of the boxes on each other, after knowing that they are relatively short, he decided on one more.

Friendly. Outgoing. Helpful. Trusting.

Lady's man.

It was incredibly helpful. You shared casual chit chats on the way, it started as Derek’s concern about how you are fitting in, sharing he was once where you are and the team all are just secretly “softies” that will warm up, and ended up as you learning about his favourite author. It actually seemed like he would not have stopped talking about Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse-Five if not for Hotch arrived and called him to duty.

It was no easy task transforming an office room into a place of comfort, but you could manage. By the end of two days, countless cushions, pillows and seats in all shapes and sizes surrounds a small coffee table in the middle of the room, shelves are filled with literature and entertainment of various genres instead of gruesome casefiles, soft ambience lamps replace the eye-damaging LED lights, plants, many plants, and much to Hotch’s hesitation, he gave you permission to burn scented candles, to your own risk of course.

And then there was the real job. You knew the team has not yet knew you and opened up to you, as much as you wanted- needed them to in order to do your job, and the easiest way is perhaps to go out of your way and open up to them first. You walk pass the bullpen and buy morning drinks for everyone occasionally and took it upon yourself to refill the cabinets with various treats and snacks.

And it worked.

Spencer Reid shared incredible statistics and knowledge over his sugar-with-a-bit-of-coffee kind of drink, and you make sure to show him how impressed you are at his 3 PhDs and 2 BAs, even if he is only your age.

Penelope Garcia discovered your room one afternoon and has declared it her secret hideout cave ever since. She brought her own colourful trinkets to decorate your shelves, spending more and more of her free time on your “madly divine goose feathers of goodness”, bonding over gossiping and short novels in your collection. She is really a sweet gem, you find yourself loving her company and has kept your door open for her since.

Elle Greenaway noticed the treats first, as she often is the last to leave the office and in her hunger, often finds herself rummaging through the cabinets. She sent you a thank-you card the next morning, decorated with swirly drawings of flowers and leaves, and you always make sure to keep her favourite granola bars refilled.

One day you came to work to a package, carefully wrapped, on your coffee table. It was Slaughterhouse-Five. Since then you put it first on your to-read list, and often invites Derek Morgan to your room for tea and to discuss the book and share annotations, which he most appreciated.

Jennifer “JJ” Jareau first popped by your office when she heard music playing, a rare occurrence in this government building. She stayed for the card games you shared passion in criticising how bad the team is at taking care of themselves, and you got yourself another person who will help give those poor agents soft pillows and refreshing drinks.

All of your delivery requests, unfortunately, go through Aaron Hotchner’s office. It was fine when it was a few chairs and couches from your budget, but when it’s Star Trek comic books, fairy lights and plushies, he can’t quite help his curiosity to pass by, once, and again, and again, especially when the Beatles is on the speaker.

Jason Gideon was most fascinating, you expected. After all, you’ve heard of his reputation since your early academy days, and by the look of it, he’s a man of many stories, and many burdens. One time you were observing a game of chess between him and Spencer, and the next thing you know you were playing against him next.

“Have you learned much about the team?” He asked, while clearly trying to not checkmate you too fast. You can’t blame him, chess is not your best gimmick.

“I’ve learned that playing chess against you is a really bad idea, sir.” Even when Spencer gives you a “it’s okay me too” look, you still can’t help but raised your hands in defeat, but still taking another move.

“You’re not too bad,” He chuckled and continued the game, barely taking time to think and already few steps ahead. “I’ve seen your qualifications. You’ve attended classes, why not become a profiler?”

“You guys are all dam good already, I can’t compete,” You frowned, there is a move he could have taken that would have rendered you defencelessly defeated, but he gave you another chance to fix it. Fixed you did. “I’d rather play a supporting role.”

“How so?”

“You.. You guys take adventures into distorted worlds of the mind everyday, it takes great courage and expertise. Your minds are all brilliant, I’ve read your cases as textbooks, you’re really quite famous, sir.” You spoke as the game carried on. “But the most brilliant minds that venture the furthest are the most troubled.”

He moved his bishop.

Check mate.

You didn’t see it coming, busy defending the other side of the board.

“If you guys save the world, who’s going to save you?”

Chapter Text

It’s officially been 1 week since you took the job and joined the BAU as a… very special agent. You do carry arm, after barely passing your firearm training exam, so you are technically allowed to follow the team around if you wanted to.

It’s also better to have an extra member on the team because you quickly realised that the team needed any extra pair of hands they could get, and you weren’t hesitant to try in your range of ability.

Your first case was the abduction of Trish and Cheryl Davenport, you mainly stayed in the back observing until Gideon was the one who suggested you keeping an eye on Cheryl. Your expertise in cognitive behaviourism and therapeutic counselling quickly revealed to be very useful when dealing with victim. After all, if your twin sister was in danger, it probably is hard to relax and talk to anyone, it’s easy to miss details, and Hotch’s seriously scary face or Spencer’s awkwardness and lack of social cues skill doesn’t away help ease her up.

And it was a frequent thing ever since then.

You had Spencer’s back through his failed firearm exam because sometimes all they needed to succeed is a pat on the shoulder and someone who believe in them, and maybe a cup of hot chocolate.

You offered Hotch a session to just talk after the case of Karl Arnold- he did come after saying he was fine at least 15 times- from which you learned a bit about his family, about how he often find himself more riled up when cases are related to families and children.

You and Elle spent a whole night out listening to Spencer’s ramblings about string theory after the incident on the Texas train, though it’s hard to say you remember anything except how a guy in the bar confused Spencer for a girl and bought them all drinks.

You glimpsed into the minds of psychotic delusional killers, cannibals, stayed back a day later than most of the team to offer most of the surviving victims some counselling, you make sure they can reach you if they ever needed help.

You even watched Spencer Reid flirt with a Hollywood rising star and make out with her in a pool, gosh you never expected that.

But it was.. extraordinary. You felt helpful. The team was opening up to you, letting you handle witness interviews and teach you profiling tricks, and most importantly, they saw you as someone they could trust and talk to. And that to you is more important than anything.

“Hey…” You heard the doorbell ring and saw Elle when you opened the door. She wasn’t supposed to be here, having just being discharged from the hospital. But then again, you remembered she got shot at her own home, and instantly understood that she could not bear another second in that place, and your place was her second option.

Elle Greenaway. 28. Female. Ambitious. Extrovert. Confident. Bold. Reckless. Compassionate. You’d say you’re pretty close to her, both newest members of the team, you enjoyed each other’s presence. What happened to her was… horrible, you were at the hospital when she woke up and was her 24/7 caregiver until she could walk around and take care of herself. You saw her as almost a sibling, as family, and watching her struggle breaks your heart.

But even when the attending physician said she was good to go, you know she wasn’t.

“Sorry I didn’t call- I just, I just, I know it’s late, but I.. thought I could see you.” She stood at the door, holding her arms.

Worried. Insecure. Doubtful. Vigilant. Of course she has to be, she just got shot by a psycho.

Her hair was cut short now, baggy t-shirt giving no clue into the layers of bandages beneath. The usual confident, cunning even, smile was missing from her face. It’s now just exhaustion, eyes darting left and right of the hallway, and then at you. She doesn’t seem to have any of her stuffs with her except her wallet, phone and badge. 

“You know you can come whenever you want, Ellie,” You pulled her into an embrace the second you saw her, stroking her back gently and guided her inside. “What can I get you? I guess it is late.. some warm milk?”

“.. Uhm.. yeah, that’s- that’s fine,” It’s not Elle’s first time here, so she could find her way even in the dim light, dragging her steps towards your couch and takes a pillow to hug, trying to feel anything else rather than the phantom pain banging on the side of her waist. You didn’t leave her alone for long, returning with a mug of warm milk -the mug she unofficially claimed as hers- and turns on a few more soft lamps, sitting next to her and taking her hand in yours.

I’m here to listen, you squeezed her hand once. If you need to talk. I’m here. If you need help. I am here.

You didn't push her, though. You both sit in the silence, her palm replying by curling up and wrapped around your thumb, so close you can sense a light shiver from time to time.

".. I can still.. feel it, y/n." Elle took a deep breath and whispered, her voice is so out of breath and fragile, that you almost fear you missed something.".. Every time time i close my eyes.. I.. I can still see.. see him, I feel him."

"I know. I understand," All you could do was to be there for her. She instinctively leaned closer to your body, shaking her head and gripping your finger, and all you could do was stroking her back, making your breathing more visible and clear so she could follow along." It's okay Elle, breathe."

"When he.. when he shot me, I was there but I- I wasn't unconscious- frankly I wasn't quite conscious either, just, I don't know.. just somewhere in between, y'know? But I could- I could feel as he reached his- his hand into my wound-"

"I'm so sorry.." You whispered, still sustaining a motion to comfort her, to ground her to you, to let her know she is here, right now, and not in her mind, where the Fisher King was still tearing her apart.

"And I can still feel it- god damn it- I still feel him thrusting into my waist- pulling me inside out- and write- write with the puddle of my blood- my blood- I feel it," With each word she uttered her voice got more shaky, and her palm more damp with cold sweats. "And I don't know how I'm supposed to- to feel damn lucky about this-! I- am stronger than this- I shouldn't be damn upset-"

"No, no, you can be upset, Elle, god I would be worried if you weren't, anyone would be-" You reached your arm across her shoulder and allow her to lean in and let it out. In your most recent evaluation of the team, you did mention how Elle seems to be lacking a healthy coping mechanism to trauma that she might come across in this line of work.

Now you know you were right.

"It's okay to not be invincible, Elle, it's okay.. it's okay, breathe for me."

When the warm yellow light illuminates only a half of her face, you can tell a single tear rolled down her cheek before she stopped speaking and started breathing, finally, mimicking your chest movement.

In.

And Out.

In.

And Out.

It didn't take long for you to get her to sleep. She was exhausted, and has not time to regain her usual stamina after the injury. You let her stay on the couch, turning all the lights off and making sure she is warm and tucked in, before carefully dabbing the layer of sheer sweat on her forehead off.

You remember the last thing she said before she dozed off, it echoing in your mind.

"I need help."

_______________

You barely slept.

First of all, Elle would just randomly start sweating and you were worried she would get sick, so you would carefully try to dry off her forehead and necks, before her arms as well after knowing she's out like drunk. And then she would start stirring, restlessly turning and mumbling, and you had to keep her from falling off the couch, not having the strength or confidence to carry her to bed. It's all common appearances of PTSD, as you have warned Hotch a few days prior, at least now you can send him a message that you're confident about your diagnosis. And to be fair, you couldn't really sleep.

When Elle settled down, you were back looking at case files again, to find all the details you can about what happened to her, to find out the best way to help her. As soon as the clock hits 8 am, you called Hotch and let him know you won't be coming in today.

Not great, Hotch, she's not great. I don't think she's ready to get back yet, but I'll need to talk to her.

Alright. Thanks for letting me know. Keep me updated.

Will.

When you walked out to check on Elle she was already in the kitchen, making coffee. She looked much calmer, regaining her confident posture, already much different from how you saw her last night.

"G'morning," You knocked on the wood counter as you walk up, to not startle her, before standing next to her side."How did you sleep?"

"Thought.. I could at least do something" She spoke, more like her usual self. Facade, but an improvement."... to say thank you,"

"You can stay for as long as you need," You took the mug she has made for you and sipped it while muttering a thank you, a much needed caffeine boost. "Only you can watch those soppy sitcoms with me, I need you here."

She looked over to you and puckered her lips, rolled her eyes in a very Elle-Greenaway™ manner before smiling at you.

"Just so you're prepared- I cleared out the entire day for you," You wait for her to finish making her own coffee before taking her hand by the wrist and pull her back to the couch, putting her down and throwing a few pillows her way. "so we can order breakfast from that shop you love, and might actually have a chance for a last binge watch marathon before Hotch get my ass back on the files I'm missing."

We can do anything. I will spend time with you. Whatever you're comfortable with.

"That place with the crepe you mean?"

"Yes of course, the place with the best crepe in Virginia." You take the place next to hers and tried to convey just how good the morning deals in that shop was. You couldn't, but whoever decided dessert for breakfast was a good idea should win a prize

"You're the best," She grinned. "And I was.. also wondering if..."

"If you need a session, professionally, that's what I am for. If you just need to talk, as friends, I'm also here for you."

It took a while. You both bundled up on the couch and ordered breakfast to be delivered to the door- one of the reasons why you love that shop so much- and you held Elle's hand as she figured herself out, that she guess she just wanted to figure out her feelings a little bit, but if you said she needed to be help professionally she would try to commit to the sessions. Try, was the keyword.

"That's absolutely fine, I don't think one or another is necessarily better for you right now, so let's just start with what's bothering you."

“Right… What bothers me…” Curled up on a comfy couch with soft crepe with berries and cream is, in your professional opinion, the best way to get someone to open up. Elle nestled herself with a plate of warm crepe with cream cheese and extra berries, she always said how she love that the berries here are fresh and they are just different.”.. I don’t know. Truly. I- I didn’t know why I was so.. upset- I just didn’t- I didn’t- I was standing at my door yesterday, and I just couldn’t pull the handle-”

“It’s natural for your mind to rejects going back to the same place. Like how you’d avoid the stove after being burnt. It’s how we learn. It’s okay to be upset.” Elle trusts you as a friend, and she struggles with authority, so it’s better to just sit next to her, also eating like she is, and offer some reassuring perspectives.

“I.. I guess you’re right- I just… I just.. you know what an UnSub told me a while ago- when I just joined the BAU?”

“Hm?”

“They said.. I can never fit in because it’s a boy’s club, and sometimes I feel like- I don’t.. everyone is so good, and- and I just feel like if I make one mistake-” She paused to take a deep breath, a little more shaky than usual as her fingers land on the bridge of her nose rubbing.

You moved a bit closer to her, putting a hand on her arm. “What if?”

“It’s over. If I make a mistake.. my- my position is compromised- if I make the wrong move, say the wrong thing- someone might die, a victim- an- an innocent victim..”

“Elle Greenaway, you’ve earned your position in the Bureau- In the BAU. From what I heard, it was Gideon himself that recommended your application. You’ve done more than earned this. Tell me- tell me, remember the victims you’ve saved?”

“.. I-”

“Remember that creepy guy that preyed on families? How many families have you saved putting that guy away?”

“.. Well-”

“And all those people on the train, that time- if you weren’t so amazing at keeping him calm, we wouldn’t have bought enough time to get there.”

“Spencer di-”

“Spencer could only came in because you’ve kept the situation under control for hours before. And not to mention all the victims- you were always the one to be so nice to them, dragging them away from pressing police officers. You are compassionate. You are attentive to those vulnerable. You are kind.”

“How did you-”

“I practically live with profilers, Ellie, you think I didn’t learn a thing or two?”

This time she didn’t deny it, or at least she knows you’re just gonna pull out more examples until she stops. She’s stubborn and it takes one to know one.

“I haven’t told you what Hotch said when I asked for a general evaluation of the team when I first came here either- my point is,” You shifted in your seat, leaning down and looking at her in the eyes. “You are, undoubtedly, doing this job well. Sure you will make mistakes- doctors do, presidents do, lawyers do, Hotch does, Gideon does- everyone does. It’s a part of being human.”

“People will die if I make mistakes, y/n. It’s-”

“Sometimes bad things happen, Elle, and it’s not your fault. People die all the time- and- and as amazing as you all are, you can’t save everyone. That’s why the ones you do save are so important, the ones you go against all odds to protect. Please, please remember that. Think about it, think about all the people you’ve helped. Think of those you will help.”

First she looks at you in disbelief. She stares at you in disbelief, but as you stares right back, encouraging her to actually do it, she did.

Her mind goes back to her first days out of the Academy, her first days at the job when she knew she wanted to use her power for the sake of others. All the women saved from abusive households. All the kids whose offenders she put to jail.

And then when she came to the BAU, she remembers the look on the victim’s face when they know they are saved, when she comes and tell them it’s all going to be alright and there’s just a spark of hope in those eyes. Hope in the better of humanity. Hope in a happy ending.

And when she did, the hope sparked in her eyes as well.

“.. Told you. Elle Greenaway, you are an amazing, fiery, angry at times, bold and reckless gem.” You sighed a breath of relief and reaches your arms around her, rubbing her back in circles. “And a hero needs to rest as well. You.. might not want to come back to that place for a while, you can crash in mine, indefinitely. It will take time, but the pain will fade, and one day it will all be a memory. A proof of how strong you were and always will be. A huge middle-finger in the face of the universe that screams HEY I SURVIVED”

“… It will go away?” Her face was resting on your shoulder and you can hear her voice almost muffled, her arms putting her plate aside and slowly around your back as well. “I promise it will go away. Don’t chase it, don’t try to ignore it, don’t hate it. Grow around it, like how your scars tissues grow around the injuries. And when it feels unbearable, just know.. I am here. I will be here. I will take you through it until you can walk by yourself.”

“Thank you-”

“The team will be here for you. We all love you, we do.”

“.. I know. I know.” It sounded like she was going to sob, but you don’t point it out. Elle doesn’t like to be vulnerable in front of others, as much as she does trust you. There was no point trying to hold her for it anyway, you were just going to hold her until she’s ready, whispering how you’re going to be there, how everyone is going to be there for her because she is like family.

You just hold her until she reloads and returns.