Anastasia Brooke has been a member of the BAU for four years. She loves every single one on the team like family.
And they love her equally as much too. However, a certain individual starts to realise that he wants to love Anastasia a little differe...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Aaron's POV
Usually I'd say I'm not really one to get angry, not unprovoked anyway. I consider myself as someone who's able to keep their emotions under control, staying cool and collected, thinking before I speak.
But back in Louisville, well, I have no idea what came over me. I was hurting. And I still am, even more so now.
Some sick, twisted part of me thinks that I wanted to hurt Ana, just so that I could regain some control. Everything she said was true, and because of that, I needed to protect myself. I wanted her to feel the same way as I did, because after all, we tend to hurt only those people whom we love the most.
However, the more rational part of me, the profiler part of me knows that I intentionally hurt Ana to further punish my self. Because of the guilt of putting my family in danger, because of the shame of being a failure as a husband and a father, because I'm ever so clearly undeserving of happiness and because, just like with Haley, I know I'll inevitably ruin anything good that could come from being with Ana.
What I'd said couldn't have been further from the truth. When I think of the vile words I spat at her, just screwing, I wince. My chest constricts painfully when I recall her expression, the image vividly imprinted in my brain.
It'd been an incredibly low move, a real nasty form of retaliation to suggest that I could completely disregard her opinions, undermining the incredible work that she does, in fact, continuously do at the BAU.
Within seconds of the spiteful words tumbling from my mouth, her whole body language changed, and that's when I knew. Knew that I had horridly, tremendously fucked up. Every emotion; worry, anger, concern, love, that she'd been directing at me, wholly dissipated.
The days that followed, after our return to Quantico, were no better. Probably worse. I'd have happily had her scream at me, scowl in my direction every time I glanced her way, make sarcastic remarks when I'd ask her to do something, but no. She didn't say one word to me, wouldn't meet my eye fully and would only nod in acknowledgment when I'd instructed her to do something. There had been one instant where I'd caught her eye, and it was like staring into a void. No emotion or feeling held in her once enchanting irises, just beautiful emptiness.
If she'd shown an ounce of emotion, then I'd know she still cared, but there was nothing. And that pained me more. Ana once thought so much of me, and held me in such high regard, that I was seemingly able to reduce her to nothing but a shell with my words.
The team had obviously heard what I'd said, but even if they hadn't, the deflated expression Ana now wore was noticeable enough to suggest something had happened. No one had commented on this however, not with me anyway, not until now at least.
Sitting at the back of the jet in the quietness, my thoughts begin to wonder, like they had done for the last few days, recalling all the events of the last few weeks.
