Finley Reid

TW: Withdrawal symptoms, girl with way too many responsibilities

“I’m dying,” I groan and kick the blankets off my bed. The movement makes my muscles tense and I cry out as pain shoots through them. My breath comes in deep pants and gasps and I barely manage to bring my hand to my forehead. There’s a thin layer of sweat covering my skin and the cold presence of my hand helps with it.

The alarm clock by my mattress is way too bright and sears the time into my retinas as I punch it away. Three AM.

It’s been about four days since I quit smoking and cutting cold-turkey. The team had found out all together, and needless to say they were pissed. Rossi and Derek were less pissed, and even a bit understanding, but they too agreed I made the right choice trying to quit. Derek offered to get me nicotine patches to help ease off, but I said that I was going cold turkey. Him and Dad seemed really worried about that, and once the withdrawal started they haven’t stopped checking up on me. The only break I get is when they’re on a case like they are right now.

After I confessed and everything, Dad and Morgan decided to stay with the BAU and took back their resignations. Now all of them are in Texas for some kind of serial killer or whatever.

My stomach tightens and within seconds I’m out of my room and vomiting into the trash can in the kitchen.

I promised Dad I’d call Issie if things got bad like they are right now, but she’s not talking to me at the moment. She found out about my addiction and went off on me, being really hypocritical about getting addicted to something and self harming. I decided to be a dick and brought up her anorexia and she walked out and slammed the door.

Which is why it’s a surprise when there’s a knock on the door.

I wipe my mouth with the bottom of my tank top and stumble to the door. I throw it open without even looking out the peephole. I’m not suicidal but I’d take death over more of this.

Immediate regret hits when there’s a gorgeous girl standing in front of me. I must look like hell, which is embarrassing, but upon closer inspection she looks almost as exhausted as me.

“H-hi,” she stutters. Her tan skin glows under the artificial lights in the hallway. She shuffles her bare feet on the carpet and pulls her tank top down, having to adjust the little boys on her hips to do so.

Wait - little boys?

Sure enough there are identical little boys on the girl’s hips who can’t be older than four while she looks about sixteen. They’re almost identical to her as well, but they have caramel brown hair while hers is a bright rainbow ombre. There are two other little boys next to the girl who look the same as the twins, but one is most likely seven and the other is probably around. The five year old boy and the girl have matching silver eyes while the other three have chocolate brown eyes.

“I’m Aislin, I go by Ace.” Ace grins at me, showing straight, white teeth. There are dark shadows under her grey eyes. “Um, this is Rory,” she holds up the sleepy twin on her left hip, “and his twin brother Ross.” Ace pulls the boy on her right closer as he wraps a chubby fist in her tank top. “That’s Cade.” The five year old boy grabs her sweatpants. “And that’s Arthur.” The seven year old waves shyly. Ace seems to gain some confidence because she straightens up. “We live down the hall and I heard you vomiting, and I wanted to check on you but I couldn’t leave the boys alone, I’m sorry about that--'' she speaks almost too fast for my tired mind to keep up with.

I want to ask why her parents couldn’t watch the boys but I have to limp back to the trash can to hurl again. My stupid ankle still hasn’t healed but I can semi-walk on it.

“Oh shit,” Ace mutters and quickly says “Don’t repeat that,” to the giggling boys. She hesitates but comes into the apartment as I puke again and sets her brothers down by the doorway and tells them not to move.

She hesitantly moves next to me, but doesn’t touch me, which I can’t tell if I’m grateful for. Instead she goes behind me and takes a paper towel from the roll. She folds it and drenches it in cold water before coming back.

Once I’m done puking she ghosts a hand under my bicep and helps me to the couch. Ace gives me the paper towel. “Put it on your forehead, I can feel your fever from here.” She turns to her brothers. “Arthur, hun, can you get me another wet paper towel?”

“Otay,” he yawns and toddles over to the kitchen. 

“Is...he…” I mutter.

She tilts her head. “What was that?”

“He your son?” I ask, more clearly.

Ace shakes her head, but she isn’t offended. “No, he’s my brother.”

“You’re a good sister,” I mumble deliriously.

She snorts as Arthur comes back over. “Thanks, now here, wipe your mouth with this.” I do what she says as she inspects me. Ace’s grey eyes flicker to my flushed face, shivering body, and sweaty forehead and she nods. “You’re going through withdrawal. Nicotine. Trying to quit?”

“How’d you … know?” I gasp.

She crouches down by the sides of the couch and is about to answer when a whiny voice comes from the door. 

“Ay-lin,” the tiny voice calls. “Ay-lin, up!”

Another voice echoes the first. “Ay-lin, whewe awe you!”

Ace gives me an apologetic look but I wave her off. She trots over to the kids by the door so she’s out of my sight. A few seconds later and the door to the apartment closes with a click as the lock is turned.

My face falls as darkness fills the room. Of course they’d leave, I’m not their responsibility. And that girl seems to have her hands full, anyways.

“Sorry about that.” Ace appears from behind the couch with Rory and Ross on her hips. My heart soars. Cade and Arthur are basically attached at her hip. I gesture weakly for her to sit down on the couch, and she does so hesitantly, like she’s worried about damaging it. Which is ridiculous. Ace definitely weighs more than me, but she’s really curvy, even more so than Issie. And she has more muscle definition than almost Morgan. Despite that, I can almost see her ribs through the tank top, which is concerning.

Once she’s seated, Roy and Ross take their place in her lap and snuggle into her chest. Cade and Arthur climb on the couch and sit down at her sides. Ace rolls her eyes at all of them, but doesn’t really seem to mind.

“Sorry about the twins,” she says to me. “They’re in their clingy phase. Once they’re asleep--” little snores come from her lap, “Nevermind.” She eases the toddlers off her lap and places them in between the sleeping Cade and Arthur. Once she’s sure none of them are awake, she takes a step back and stretches.

Ace freezes and turns to me. “Omigosh, I’m so sorry. This is probably so rude. We basically just invited ourselves into your apartment and now the boys are crowding you on the couch. We should go--” She reaches for the boys.

“No!” I exclaim a bit too loudly, and clear my throat at her wide-eyed expression. “I mean no, it’s chill, really. Thanks for helping me.” I scooch up into a sitting position so she can sit next to me. The movement hurts but I ignore it. “How did you know I was going through withdrawals?”

Ace shrugs and fidgets with her fingers. “I’m a bit smarter than kids my age. Nowhere near genius level, of course, but smart enough to be in Senior year. I, uh, think we’re in a few of the same classes, but I’m not sure. I don’t really have time for friends.” Her face flames up at the admission and she fidgets with her hair.

“I like your hair,” I say without thinking.

She glances at the curl in her hand then beams at me. “Thanks! I dyed it because I’m gay.”

I choke on air.

Ace’s brows furrow. “Oh gosh, was that the wrong thing to say? Are you homophobic? That would be awkward, wouldn’t it.”

My coughing turns into laughter and I shake my head. Her shoulders relax and she joins me in quiet giggling before I rub my eyes.

“Holy crap,” I chuckle. “You’re very blunt.”

“I’ve been told that. So, are you gay too?”

I snort and hold out my clammy hand. “Yeah. I’m Finley. I’m a lesbian.”

She shakes my hand as an ‘oh shit’ expression comes over her face. “Oh! We do have classes together, you’re that genius kid! Sorry I didn’t recognise you. I’m Aislin Pines. I’m pan.”

My jaw drops. “You’re that girl on the football team!”

A red blush decorates her ears and she pulls on her hair. “Yup. That t’would be me.”

I go to ask another question but stop when the room starts to spin. Ace mumbles an ‘oh crap’ and within seconds is holding out tylenol for me. I take it and the room immediately screeches to a halt.

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” she shrugs. “Your symptoms mean this has probably been going on for about four days, so you should be fine after the next two.”

“How do you know so much about this?”

“I … used to have a bit of a nicotine problem, too. Football helped me get clean,” she 

says. 

I’m not the greatest with feelings, but even I can tell she’s getting uncomfortable, so I change the subject. “So, where are your parents?”

“At a business meeting,” she answers too quickly. Like she’s said the phrase a million times before.

I just met this girl, I’m not going to dig into her personal life. Especially not when I’m close to making a friend all by myself without Darren or Issie’s help. 

Ace is also two inches shorter than me, which is a nice change.

She looks around the apartment. “So where’s your parents?”

“My dad’s in the FBI, and he’s on a case right now. My mom was a pedophile so I killed her,” I blurt out. Ace’s eyes grow to the size of dinner plates and I facepalm.

I wait for her to get up and take her brothers and leave, but she doesn’t. Instead she relaxes and puts her back against the couch. “Dope.”

“Um, what?”

“Oh! Not the mom being a pedophile thing, that’s not dope. Dope that you stood up for yourself.” Ace shrugs. She’s currently my favorite person right now. “I killed someone once.”

My jaw hits the floor. “Um?”

“Yeah, this weird guy who looked like the Slenderman tried to kidnap the twins. I chased him three miles and beat the shit out of him. He bled out.”

“... Are you a sociopath?”

“Nope. Just very ‘protective’. What, don’t think I was in the right there?” Her voice isn’t challenging, in fact it’s super neutral. She seems like she genuinely wants to know what I think. Like maybe she’s a bit guilty over it.

I shake my head. “Nope. You were definitely in the right.”

She stares at her hair. “... I didn’t mean to kill him. I kept hitting him and he fell back and got impaled on a broken street sign.” She shakes herself out of it and looks at me. “Sorry. I came over here to help you and it’s turned into a therapy session for me.”

I shake my head. “No. It’s … helpful to have someone who’s gone through the same stuff as me.” I hesitate then finally ask the question that’s been circulating in my head for the past four days. “Does the guilt … go away?”

Ace looks thoughtful. “... Not completely. When you kill someone in self defense, you’re going to feel a lot more guilty than someone who did it just to kill. That’s a sign you’re human. It’s a sign you’re a good person.” She looks towards the ceiling. “For a while after I killed that guy, maybe a few months, I got super religious. I was obsessed with asking for forgiveness and all that stuff. Then one day, it all went away. I went full circle into a total atheist. I realised his death wasn’t my fault.” Her grey eyes find mine. “In your case, you did kill that woman directly, but it was self defense I assume by the cuts on your neck. Your guilt will fade eventually, but it’ll be a bitch and a half until it does.”

I’ve never understood the word flabbergasted until right now.

“Didn’t you say you weren’t a genius?” I blurt.

She laughs and quickly quiets herself so it comes out as giggles as to not wake the boys. “There’s a difference between intelligence and emotional maturity.” A guilty look appears on Ace’s face. “No offense, of course.”

“No! None taken.” I’m still gaping. My jaw snaps shut when shivers wrack my body and there’s suddenly a blanket over me that was previously on the back of the couch.

“Tell you what,” Ace says, and leans over to scribble something on a piece of paper she found on the coffee table. “There’s my number. I’m almost always up, so give me a call. Trust me, you’re not bothering me, I’m always super bored. On the rare case I’m asleep, I won’t answer, but I will eventually. I’m pretty bad with texts.” She leans back and looks at me. “If you’re feeling better you’re welcome to come hang out at our apartment - room 320. It’s the weekend so I don’t have work.”

Before I can ask what she does for work, she’s picked up all the boys and is somehow balancing all four of them in her grasp. 

She gives me a little smile. “See you tomorrow, hopefully. I’ll pop in around twelve to check on you. Eat some toast, you won’t throw it up. I’ll bring some applesauce tomorrow.”

I blink my eyes but that must lead to a mini nap because when I open them it’s four am and she’s gone.

******

Ace isn't gonna be like Alexa where's she's gone in two chapters cuz she's a jerk. Ace is here to stayyyy people! Hope ya like her!

You're wonderful! Stay safe