Finn? What the fuck are you doing?
Finn P.O.V
I grin into the darkness as the glowing smoke spills out of my mouth into the night air.
We’ve been in DC for two days now. The team is chasing after a cannibalistic murderer who’s been farming people for forty years just to eat them. Of course I’m not supposed to know that, but I snuck into the evidence room and looked at all the pictures.
Sometimes I hate having an eidetic memory, and the ridiculous amount of curiosity that my brain seems to always convey.
Now I’m seated on top of the police precinct, razor in my hand, while music plays softly into my right ear. Las Angeles is so much warmer than DC and there’s a lot less honking, especially at night. The street is too quiet for my tastes, hence the music, but it does give me privacy.
The team is down below in the evidence room, trying desperately to find Connor Thompson. They don’t know his name, or the fact that I already solved their case, but until he takes another victim, I’m not interfering. I have my own thing going on, and it involves staying in Las Angeles for two more days. I bought a bus ticket right before we touched down and it’s supposed to leave in ten minutes from right outside the precinct. I told Dad I was going to visit Grandma, which I will, but afterwards.
I sigh and drag the razor across my arm, transfixed as cherry red blood beads up. It drips down my wrist to the puddle forming on the edge of the roof next to me. I take a drag from the joint in my mouth and hold the smoke in for a moment. When it starts to burn I make glowing blue rings appear in the air with it.
What I’m smoking are no normal cigarettes. They’re a bit less harmful than normal drugs because they’re a specific kind of tobacco I spliced with blue jolly ranchers. They hide any tobacco smell and smother it in the scent of blue raspberry, which makes it very easy to hide from my dad.
“Finn? What the fuck are you doing?”
It doesn’t hide the sight of me smoking though-
I rip the joint out of my mouth and hide both it and my bloody arm behind me as I whirl around. Who the fuck would even go up on the roof, aren’t they all supposed to be on a case?
It’s Hotch. His arms are crossed over his chest and he’s trying to keep a nonchalant expression but I can see conflicting emotions flash across his expression. Mostly anger and sadness if his clenched fists are anything to go by.
I’m screwed, but I give him an innocent half-smile anyways, pulling out my earbud. “Hotch? What do you mean?” Subtly, I work my sleeve down over my bad wrist and his eyes catch on the movement.
“Don’t play dumb with me,” he says, stepping forwards and straightening his posture. “Wrists. Now.”
My chest seizes up and it’s hard to breathe. “I… I, um.” I shake my head. “I don’t know… know what you’re talking about.” I cringe at how jumbled my words come out, but
they’re even more mixed up in my head. The only two clear thoughts I can pick up on are ‘jump’ and ‘lie’.
Hotch’s face darkens and his age shows through for a moment as he looks sadder than anyone I’ve ever seen. It’s gone as soon as it starts and he takes another step. His hands twitch and I can tell he’s ready to stop me from jumping.
“It wasn’t a request,” he says, holding his hands out. “Wrists. Also, the joint you’re hiding behind your back.”
I’m trapped. I don’t know what to do. Part of me knew I’d get caught eventually, but now that it’s actually happening, I’m lost. There’s a pole next to me that leads to the ground, and I set a hand on it to make sure I don’t fall backwards. Hotch is trying to make eye contact with me, his expression pained, but I direct my gaze towards the sky.
He’s talking again and takes another step forward, but I can’t hear him. All I can hear is the screech of bus brakes behind us on the street. As soon as the sound stops I’m ripped back to the present. Hotch instantly catches on to my plan.
“Finley, don’t you dare-” He reaches out, about to grab me.
“Sorry Hotch,” I let out in a rush. “I promise I’m not suicidal, I’ll explain when I get back.”
I wrap my arms and legs around the pole and jump off the roof right before he grabs me. What I don’t count on is my blood making the pole slippery and I end up falling a lot
faster than I meant to. My stomach is left up on the roof of the building as I slide down four floors. My feet hit the ground hard, and I hear something crack but there’s too much adrenaline in my system to feel it.
The bus doors open in front of me and I’m met with the sight of the driver. She has a concerned look on her face as she glances between me and the pole. Her dark skin glows in the faint artificial lights of the vehicle and I hop up the stairs, handing her the ticket.
“Please, drive,” I beg.
Something in my face and the blood on the ticket makes her give me a sympathetic look, but she nods anyways. “Sure baby, go sit down. You’re going to the Mental Institution, right? Visiting someone?”
I don’t have time to talk, I need her to drive. The sound of panicking inside the precinct is getting louder so I nod. “Yes, my grandma, she’s dying. I need to get there really fast, please drive.” I’m a piece of shit for lying but she nods quickly and gestures for me to sit down.
Once I’m in one of the poorly padded grey bus seats the last thing I see is Hotch’s panicked face outside the bus before the woman steps on the gas and I close my eyes.
*****