save yourself I'll hold them back #1 || alex blake x reader
content: descriptions of self harm, implied/referenced torture/rape/kidnapping, implied/referenced suicide attempt, suicide ideation.
Read it on AO3
Read the first chapter on tumblr.
A few weeks at home, and you were going completely insane in a way you thought wouldn’t ever happen after the unsub. You’d spent nearly a month at the hospital, making sure several of your injuries were properly healed or healing. Psych evaluations had gone as well as could be expected. Alex had spent almost all the time with you, feeling uncomfortable with the idea of leaving you alone. But when it was finally time to go home, you had quietly told her you needed to be able to live by yourself.
Alex understood, she’d been an incredible companion at the hospital, making sure to leave whenever the conversation or procedure was private. Kind enough to ask if you wanted her to be there when the doctors were explaining your injuries or treatment plans. Never reacting if you asked her to leave. When you first woke up at the hospital it had taken a few moments for your brain to remember what had happened. Alex had softly reassured you as you remembered.
You wondered if you both would ever be able to go back to where you’ve been before. You’d both been flirting, going out on what you refused to call a date but was a date, 90and trying to walk the fine line of co-workers becoming something more. You had been slowly building a relationship, until you had been taken for almost an year. And now you felt completely broken.
Going home was supposed to be the end of the pain. It was supposed to be easy, the unsub was dead and buried. And yet you kept waking up in the middle of the night, screaming and crying until you realized you were home, you were in your own bed. You got up from bed, moving to the bathroom almost on automatic, grabbing your cellphone like a lifeline. Your finger hovered over the name of Alex. Ever since you went home you kept your phone on you constantly. You knew it was anxiety over the kidnapping. You knew it wasn't exactly healthy. You did it anyways.
Entering the bathroom, you closed the door. You don't need to think about your movements at all, and so your mind brings back the memories of the cage. The unsub had read the scars in your tights easily, had mocked them. He added to the scars almost every day, until he brought in the other girl. That’s when everything changed for you.
Before you’d been defying the unsub in every possible way. Hoping for a mistake on his part that would allow you to escape. You had faced the consequences of your actions too. Every single torture method he’d tried out on you made you more defiant. Until he brought the girl.
She couldn’t be more than seventeen. Way too young to be in this basement. Younger than the unsub seemed to prefer, you knew. It had all changed then. You knew you couldn’t let him do to her as he had been doing to you. Her crying and screams haunted you every single time you tried to rest. You had begged him to let her go, to not touch her. Every single time you did as he told, he would reward you by not punishing her.
Soon enough you were thanking him for torturing you.
Soon enough he had put the razor in your hand, for you to cut into your skin. To add on the scars. And you fell for it. You did it because when you held the razor at least you knew what to expect. When you were the one hurting yourself, you had some control over it.
And now, in your bathroom, feeling the razor against your skin and the blood run freely, you finally let yourself cry. When you were in the cage, feeling the razor was soothing. Now, it let you pour all of your feelings out. You let yourself cry, still holding the razor in your shaking hand.
On the floor, your cellphone lit up and started vibrating.
JJ’s name filled the screen.
You looked at it, paralyzed. The phone kept vibrating. Then it goes silent.
A beat.
A small vibration indicating a message. Your hand reaches out to it, only to put it on silent mode. Garcia can confirm you’re home through gps. And you know they are all in Florida because Garcia had mentioned she was on the field and going to Florida.
It’s a jerk move to not answer. But you can’t exactly care. You’re way more interested in the sensation of the cuts and the blood coating your tights and the tears that fall freely in your face. You hate that you think about pulling the razor to your wrist. How easy it would be. You can’t shake the voice of the unsub in your ears, saying you could end it all. It was literally in your hands. And they wouldn’t be able to say it was his fault. And he would release the girl, she wouldn’t suffer. She wasn’t even his type anyway.
You felt the taste of bile in your throat and you had to focus to not throw up. Back there it had made sense. It was part of his sick games. Now it was just your own bad decisions and impulses putting you in square one.
The sudden sound of the doorbell distracted from your own thoughts. It took a moment for you to realize it was your own doorbell. You felt your heart beat faster. With shaking hands you let the razor fall to the ground, before you could put it against your wrist. You picked up your phone and got up, stopping only to put a pair of sweatpants. As you made your way to your door, you opened the messages JJ has left.
“Just confirm to me that you’re home and safe.” was the first message. The second one was just your name followed by a bunch of interrogation points. “Garcia says your phone is inside your apartment.” was the next one, followed by: “Don’t do anything stupid.” “I’m sending out Alex. Sorry not sorry.” “If I don’t hear from any of you in 30 I’m sending out an ambulance and police.” was the last one.
You open the door to an Alex that has a hand on her gun and another on her phone.
– Alex had been nose deep into the files of the new case. Anything and Everything to keep herself awake and her thoughts as far away from you. At least while she was working she wasn’t worrying sick. She wasn’t unravelling over her guilt and that nagging feeling that she was letting you go. That you were done with her. You haven’t said as much, but she felt it deep in her gut.
She wasn’t surprised by her phone ringing, or even to see JJ’s name on it. She just assumed the blonde wanted to talk about the case. She was surprised by JJ’s worried voice as soon as she picked it up.
JJ had told her about the unanswered call and the ignored texts. Garcia had confirmed your phone was in your apartment. And really, JJ thought she was over-reacting but couldn’t Alex go to your apartment just to make sure. Alex had moved before JJ had explained the situation. Putting up shoes and grabbing her keys without a second thought.
She was out and on her way before JJ had finished. Alex didn’t care if you got angry. She’d been trying to not hover over you ever since you left the hospital, as per your request. Alex knew you all had to go back to living your lives. It didn’t mean it was easy. Or that she wasn’t worrying most of the time.
Rationally, she knew you were a capable adult. She knew you had lived through rough things before. Alex imagined nothing, though, could compare to it. To eleven months with the unsub. Every time she closed her eyes, Alex would see the basement. The cages, the torture tools. His face.
Alex must have past the speed limit, she’s sure of it. She doesn’t give a fuck because it means she gets to you faster. It means that not even 15 minutes later she’s ringing your doorbell. One of her hands hold her gun, the other holds the cellphone. –
“It’s just me. I’m home alone.” You say. Alex’s shoulders drop immediately. “Oh thank god. I didn’t know what I was going to find.” She says, and it hurts to hear how her voice breaks at the relief she feels. “You should let JJ know it’s ok.” you say, opening the door enough to let her into your place. You don’t wait at the door. Letting her enter and close it herself. Instead you enter the small kitchen space to make some tea. Hoping that doing anything might calm you down and make your hands stop shake. “Is it? Ok, I mean.” She follows you into the kitchen. You assume she has sent the message, but when you look at her, her eyes are glued to your pants.
Sweatpants that are a light grey. Your blood is steadily making a bigger stain on the pants by the second. The movement certainly not helping it. You might’ve cut harder than you thought. Deeper than you thought. You tried to find words, any words to tell her.
“Do you need an ambulance?” She asks. And for a second you really are glad for her straightforward brain.
“No. I don’t think so, anyway.” You say, and then you start walking. You know she’ll follow. You’re not sure if you want her to see it. But you know you need to clean up.
You take on the bathroom at the same time as she does. You can’t imagine what she’s thinking. You try not to think about it.
“I’m going to clean up. It’ll be a minute. You don’t have to see it.” You say. When you look at her, she looks angry. Upset. Her face does the thing you’ve only seen it doing when someone says something completely stupid. It disarms you. It’s probably the first time you’ve seen those expressions since they found you.
“I’m doing the clean up.” She says so matter of fact that it takes you aback. She gathers both your first aid kit and the razor from the ground. The razor goes to the trash, a dirty towel is put on the laundry basket and she goes to pick a clean one. A part of you wants to complain. But you stay quiet, sitting down at the edge of the tub and waiting.
When you look at Alex, she’s staring at you. “You need to take off your pants.” She says, you can tell she’s using her professional voice. “And you should probably thank JJ for saving your life.” she adds. You want to protest. You want to say it wasn’t like that. That it wouldn’t have come to that. You even open your mouth to say something but find your voice dying in your throat.
It’s not lost on you that once upon a time you would imagine taking off your clothes to Alex. Neither of you would imagine it would be like this. You don’t think you can stand to look at her face as she takes in on the state of your tights. She cleans your wounds slowly and softly. It barely stings and you’re shocked by the tears falling down your face. It’s not shocking to you that she’s mad, but you find yourself not knowing how to react to it.
For almost a year anger was met with pain. With humiliation. Both physical and verbal. And you knew, rationally, that Alex would never. And yet, you felt your own body tense and your brain expected retaliation, even if just for a second. It made you sick to your stomach that that was your reaction.
“I’m sorry.” you’re not sure what you’re apologizing for when you say it. Probably for your reaction, for worrying her. She just hums. And that’s the second thing don’t know how to react to. You’ve seen Alex angry before. She had never once been silent. She finishes addressing the wounds.
“I’ll finish organizing things here. Go. And I was serious, you should text JJ and thank her.” Alex says and it’s clear she’s also asking to be alone for a moment. You want to cry again. You don’t. Instead you do as you’re told. You leave the bathroom to go find some black pants and you text JJ really fast to tell her you‘re fine. Later you’ll properly thank her. Right now, you don’t need to distract her with your problems. Right now you’re still too worried about Alex to really pay attention to anything else
When Alex comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later she seems more tired than she’d looked before. She sits by your side on the bed.
“You should be sorry.” She says, her tone firm. It wasn’t shouting, or accusing. Just firm. “I trusted you. When you said you needed to be able to live on your own, when you said you could go back. I trusted that if you needed you would reach out. To me, to JJ, literally anyone. If JJ hadn’t called…” She continues; and it breaks your heart, you try to come up with any words to justify, to answer her but you fall flat. “I didn’t know what I was going to find when I got here, and then you tried to play it off like you were fine. You were bleeding. Fuck, I should've paid more attention. You said in the hospital that those wounds were made by him. I thought… I didn’t think, I guess. I just got you back. Do you even care?” The “about me” was implied in that question. And if before you kept your silence, kept every word you thought. Now it snapped.
“Do I care? Do I… Seriously Alex?” you felt the anger boiling inside of you. You got up from the bed. “OH, I’m so sorry that you had to see all that. I’m sorry that you had to get the front row seat to the shitshow that is my life at the moment.” Your voice started to get higher. “AND I’M SORRY THAT I SPENT MOST OF AN YEAR BEING BEATEN, AND RAPED, AND ABUSED AND HUMILIATED AND NOW I’M TOO FUCKING BROKEN TO GO BACK TO WHATEVER THE FUCK WE WERE ALEX. I APOLOGIZE IF THE WAY I’VE BEEN HANDLING EVERYTHING IS NOT UP TO YOUR STANDARTS. I’M SORRY THAT DYING SOUNDS EASIER THAN LIVING RIGHT NOW.” You shouted, not realizing exactly what you were saying until it was said. Alex looked defeated on the bed, you could see she was holding onto her tears, trying not to cry. You hadn’t even tried and the tears were freely running down your face.
