Little ms FBI

𝓗𝓪𝓵𝓮𝔂❦１２

A few months had gone by, now the fall air breezed through the days. Angie had been adapting nicely to the job, still becoming unsettled on some cases. Usually right now she would be at the edge of Reid's desk, working on a file.

But today was different. Today she sat outside of room, picking at her acrylics. The images of what had happened flashing through her mind.

Seeing Hotch covered in blood.

Seeing the team all become unraveled by the sounds of gunshots.

Listening to the phone calls herself.

It was new for her. She never really thought something like this would happen. "You all right?" Penelope asked quietly from next to the teen.

"Maybe. I mean, we all just basically witness Hotch's ex die. Imagine how hard that must be. Then there's Jack, who has to grow up with only stories and videos of his mother." She shook her head softly.

Before Garcia could say something relaxing, she got called in next. JJ walking out, taking her seat. "He'll be ok ya' know," she rubbed Angie's knee.

"I know he will," Angie rested her head on the blonde's shoulder. "I remember the first time I met her. It was at the hospital. We talked for the tiniest moment. And now, here I am wishing it was longer. We talked about the simple get-to-know things. Like how she met Hotch, how I met Hotch, their love story, and Jack. All within like 5 minutes. She seemed nice-ish. There wasn't much talking time to really tell. But I just can't seem to really shake it away. It's like burned into my brain." She went on, slightly tearing up.

"The somewhat good news is, her death was fast. She didn't suffer too much," JJ soothed. Playing with strands of the burnette's waves.

"You're dating right?" Angie spoke up. JJ gave a very delicate 'mm-hmm'. "Would you done the same thing Hotch did?"

"I...I don't know what would've done." She answered, not really knowing how to answer.

"Angie, they're ready for you." Anderson popped up, informing the teen. She inhaled while getting up.

She looked back towards JJ, who flashed a reassuring smile. Stepping into the room, Angie took in every detail. The empty chairs, the wall color, the recording box on the table, and Strauss looking a tad bit flustered.

"Agent Lucas, please take a seat." The older woman began. As Angie was sitting down, she went on. "How would you describe how Agent Hotchner acted?"

"Um, normal, I guess?" She doubted her answer. "Lost maybe? I really don't know." Her voice started to sound lost.

"Are you alright agent?" Strauss stopped the recording.

"I don't know that answer." She said, almost inaudible. "I mean, I think this would be protocol, but what are you trying to figure out? If he murdered Foyet? because in my eyes, he did what anybody would do. And if he didn't, he could've died himself and lost his son. I just personally think he did it right."

The section chief stood there, just staring at Angie. She started the recording once more. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"Any specific time? Or just it all?" She returned the question.

"When you arrived at the house." Strauss cleared up. Angie gave a little nod.

"Well, I was with Agents Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss. We were the first to arrive. The house from the outside looked dark and as if nobody was home. And when we went in, there Agent Hotchner was. Repeatedly going at the man. Morgan had to pull him off. And he cried. It was painful to watch. I had to leave the house because it couldn't watch. I bumped into the others. Soon watching JJ- Agent Jareau walk out with their son." She storied out. Trying not to visualize a thing.

"And do you think he did the wrong thing by killing George Foyet?" She went deeper into questioning.

"I don't think so. I believe he did the right thing," Angie shook her head. "What'll happen to him?"

"That is yet to be known. We still need to talk to the rest of the agents involved. You're free to go." She dismissed. Angie got up rather quickly, leaving towards the bathroom quickly.

All the nerves she tried to ignore finally hit. Making her become nauseous and on the verge of throwing up. She knew she should probably get that checked out.

Spilling the contents of her breakfast into the white bowl. Over all her noises, she listened to the door open. Soon feeling a hand rub circles on her back.

After what felt like forever, she had finished heaving. Leaning against the stall wall, eyes closed. "I promise I'm not pregnant," Angie chuckled. Her throat feeling dry.

"So is this a regular thing? Because this is the second time you've thrown up." Emily wore a worried expression.

"Actually not the second but! I don't know, I assume it if I get a bit too nervous. Which isn't often, but it's also often. It's like when you're by your crush. You get all nervous and clammy. And where it's like you like them so much, that it physically painful and unhealthy. That's the feeling." Angie rambled on. "But I'm fine, pinky promise."

"What other times have you thrown up?" Emily knitted her brows together. Angie gave the smallest shake of her head.

"Not that many, I mean when we were in the one room trying to make me official, I almost threw up. I distracted myself though. Was beyond happy. Oh and after every first day of a case! Other than that, I've done a pretty good job at not getting worked up." She said, standing off the bathroom floor. Brushing off her jeans.

"Why haven't you told anyone?" Emily followed her up. Her voice hinting a tad bit of annoyance.

"It was a problem I could handle myself. Didn't seem like a group problem," Angie pushed off, washing her hands and face.

"But if it is something serious," Emily protested.

"We can talk about it later. Right now we should be here for Hotch's well-being. And I promise this isn't me trying to push off my problems because I don't want to talk about them because I'll feel like a burden." She pressed her lips into a thin smile.

"I guess," Emily puffed out. The taller women left the room first. Angie close behind her. A tad bit upset that Emily was also a bit upset. It was evident as well.

"Don't be mad, please?" She whispered, wrapping her hands around her waist.

"I'm not mad," she responded. It's the way she said it that made Angie not believe her. It sounded cold and hurt. Yet, she didn't push it any further.

Instead the two walked into the roundtable room. Where everyone was with Jack.