The First 5 Minutes of Criminal Minds. Kinda/Miss Secretary's Super Cute Jammies

It was around eight o'clock whenever Elizabeth Laine finally slipped into her small house, just outside of Rosebury. It was a twenty minute drive from the school itself, but only a short walk to town. She had hitched a cab home after hours of work, sorting through paperwork and getting everything in order. She was exhausted as she carelessly tossed her purse on the kitchen counter before slipping into her room to change. Later, she would realize that she left the door unlocked (very un-Elizabeth like behavior) but at the moment all she could think about was getting out of her uncomfortable work clothes and into her soft, plaid flannel pajamas.
A few moments later, she walked out of her room and padded over into the kitchen, enjoying the feel of her bare feet against the cold tile floor. She quickly fixed herself a cup of tea, humming softly to herself as she did so. Pushing a bit of hair out of her eyes, she collected the cup and a book off the counter before making her way to the couch. She sprawled out across it, thankful for the peace and quiet.
Little did she know, that wasn't going to last long.

He had decided to follow at a much slower pace, choosing to walk and take his time. He really had no idea what he was worried about. He supposed the common fears would be getting caught, which he wasn't as they were in the were in their own, secluded middle-of-nowhere. It was unlikely, and if anyone tried to stop him - Well, they couldn't. And yet, there was this uncomfortable feeling of dread that kept tugging him back.
Anyone else in this school, he hadn't a problem... But this was the first of a few, so he shouldn't hesistate.
He walked up to Miss Secretary's doorstep, flipping the sheathed knife around in the pocket of his leather jacket before taking in a deep breath. He walked inside quietly and shut the door behind him, locking it and glancing around for any sign of Elizabeth. With careful steps, he took to the living room.

She had been so absorbed in her book that she almost missed the sound of a door opening and closing, very faint in the back of her mind. But Elizabeth had always been a bit paranoid, a bit cautious about nearly everything. So at the sound of her door, her heart beat quickened almost instantly. She thought for a moment about calling out, but instead stayed put, her bright eyes wide in terror and her knuckles white as she tightly clenched her book. It was just the wind, or your imagination, or... or something that isn't trying to kill you. She tried to convince herself, with little result. Then what about those foot steps? If her house hadn't been so old and so familiar she wouldn't have noticed the light creak of pressure against the wood floor of the entryway. Her heartbeat was frantic now, rivaling the wings of a hummingbird in speed, and her breath was hollow and loud to her ears. So whenever she saw the shadow of a person entering the living room, she panicked. Hurtling her book as hard as she could at the intruder, she practically rolled off the couch, landing on her hands and knees before hopping up. She sprinted to the kitchen, hoping whoever was there didn't get near her first as she grabbed the closest knife she could find, though it was only a butter knife and probably couldn't do an damage to a piece of meat. Her eyes were wild and searching as she called out in a shaky voice she fought hard to keep steady, "Who's there?!"

Damn, that was way faster than anticipated. Barret quickly ducked out of the way of the book flying at him, making a grab for her wrist as she sprinted by, just missing and pulling back. He narrowed his eyes and reached into his pocket, his fingers wrapping around the cool metal before he stopped. No, not yet. There was no point in making this more difficult than it needed to be. He took his hand back out and followed the sounds of,her footsteps into the kitchen, walking leisurely, as if he were in no hurry. He was greeted by Elizabeth looking terrified, holding his shadow at butterknife-point. No, not yet... Barret laughed under his breath, taking a few steps closer to her. "Careful. You might hurt yourself." He took a closer look at her, admiring the pajamas and thinking to himself he'd much rather take this girl out for another drink, but regretfully, orders were orders, right? Honestly, nothing was really making sense to him at the moment.

Visions were already playing in her mind- ones that didn't even make sense. Memories from her past, of her father. Ones that could be from the future, of her father breaking into her house and- no, that was just her imagination. He was dead. She often had nightmares like that, though now it was almost real. But this intruder wasn't her father, and as soon as he stepped out of the shadows, Elizabeth sighed in relief. She set the knife down on the counter. "Barret, I thought-" I thought you were my long dead daddy. She paused for a moment, eyeing him cautiously. "Barret Spion," Her voice was steady and slow, but there was a panicked, shaken look in her eyes. "Why the hell are you sneaking around in my home? And you better have a damn good reason."

Barret raised an eyebrow, a bit surprised by the stern tone to her voice, though he supposed he should've seen it coming. This was technically considered breaking and entering, yes? The man let out a weak chuckle. "Elizabeth Laine." He mused, taking a few steps closer to her, far too casually. He slipped his hand in his pocket, pulling the small knife out, hiding it in his palm and the sleeve of his jacket, copper eyes glinting. His gaze traveled up and down her, not lingering anywhere, simply calculating every move she could make. He stopped with an expressionless look, his body mere inches away from hers. "Don't take any of this personally?" He brought up his free hand, the movement slow and unsteady before clenching it into a fist, as if he couldn't decide what he wanted to do. His eyes slit, leaning his face closers to hers and turning the weapon around in his hands. if she gets stabbed or not will depend on her reaction. >:U and nu kissin him won't getchu outta it or anythang itz nawt that simple. or running. or asdfaetht - YOU KNOW WHAT? GEWD FAWKIN LUCK KAY? D8<

Elizabeth swallowed as he moved closer and uttered her name. While one might have assumed he was going to kiss her, she couldn't help but feel terror rising in her heart. There was something cold in his eyes, usually hid from the world that we could easily see now. Without thinking she backed up, gently hitting the counter. There was no where to run, and he was right in front of her- so close she could see nearly every detail, from the flecks of color in his bright eyes, the small scar on his face that was barely visible, and the flick of light from his hand, though she wasn't sure if the latter was merely her imagination. 
Her hands clenched the counter edge, her amber eyes wide and searching. She didn't like people being this close to her. She felt like she couldn't breathe. She wondered if Barret was drunk- or maybe just unstable. She noticed his fisted hand, noted his words in wonder and trepidation. "Barret," She whispered, her voice breaking slightly. For a moment she studied his lips. If she leaned forward even a little her's would meet his- she flinched away from the thought. "Please. Don't." She didn't know what she was asking him not to do- anything and everything. She just knew she was scared. There was a firmness in her voice, matched with vulnerability and uncertainty. She was fearful and yet fearless, a paradox of emotions.

Something wasn't right here, aside from the obvious. There was no possible way she could no what he was going to do, and yet this couldn't be going the way it was. He had expected her to try to stop him, or push him away, or anything other than her broken whispers of protest. This was more like a deer frozen in headlights. Yet, she didn't seem completely helpless, her gaze searching him - completely aware. Terrified, he thought, but brave - how very admirable. This quiet book reader who had a heart of steel and a secret fascination with explosions and cheesy action movies. Still, he couldn't help but wonder what was wrong with her.
Barret said nothing, unable of think of anything to say, unclenching his fist and running his fingers gently on across her cheek; wanting almost desperately to close the distance between them, though he couldn't admit to himself why. He wanted it too much and had started to move several times, but stopped himself at each occurance. For a few good moments, he didn't move. 'If she pushes hard enough, she could get away. Even if I...' He thought, twisting the steel around in his hands still. Would killing her now be merciful in anyway? What would her cousin do to her if she found out he let her live? He already knew where the cavern was. He had told her. It was only a matter of time. 'She would die now or later, either way.' He shut his eyes tightly, gently touching his forehead to hers and, for a few heart beats, tearing his mental wall down; although he didn't notice it happen. In a slick movement, he unsheathed the knife with the flick of his wrist and a sharp click, pressing the blade against her stomach.
ooc;; because i'm honestly confused if you want her stabbed or not, if you want her to be, you can just go ahead and say he did it. /bricked

While Barret drug his fingers across her cheek and studied her for long, terrifying moments, Elizabeth did everything she could to calm down. They were so close she could smell his breath- Clove cigarettes and mint, but no alcohol. That both relieved her and scared her even more. That meant he was completely aware of whatever he was about to do. And she had a feeling that whatever he was about to do was something horrible. 
Whenever he finally leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers, she sighed without thinking- right before a sharp gasp escaped her lips. She hardly felt the metal dig into her stomach, drawing blood that painted her pajamas a deep red as it pierced the skin. No, she couldn't think, couldn't feel anything as memories invaded her mind. 

She was in a small boy's body, though she couldn't pin any particular age. This was a mixture of multiple memories, happy ones. Two faces appeared, a young woman and a young man. The woman had long blonde hair, which flowed in the wind as she pushed the small boy on the swing. Her smile was bright and full of love. A man came and swept her up in a hug, planting a kiss on her lips. In the small boy's body, Elizabeth heard laughter escape her lips. This moment was full of happiness and love. Love for his parents, and the child's ignorant love for life. This was a happy moment.

She was swept away, her head spinning. She felt herself fall against Barret as her head continued to spin, and she was warped away into another memory.

Same boy, a few years later, sitting on a small cot in a plain room. In his childish, tiny hands was a photo of two people- his parents. This memory had none of the joy from before; it was laced in darkness and despair. The boy's chin lifted as he looked over a box beside him- neatly wrapped, with a tag in rich, cursive letters stating, To, Barret. From, Mommy and Daddy. Happy Birthday! The box was slightly crumbled, as if it had been crushed by something. The boy's eyes teared up and Elizabeth couldn't tell if it was just the sharpness of the memory, or if it was real tears she tasted on her lips. Numbly, she realized what had happened. The room she was in, which was strikingly bare and austere, was a dorm in an orphanage. The present had been crumbled whenever a car collided with the car that carried it. A car that also carried this boy's parents, who hadn't been as lucky as this present, which escaped barely unscathed. Through the boy's eyes she watched as tears dampened the sheets, and she felt as his heart broke.

She gasped again, her body moving away from the blade's sharp touch, trying to move away from the memories as they swarmed around her, but proving unsuccessful.

Many years later, she saw the world through familiar golden eyes. She wondered, faintly, how she got from that broken boy in the orphanage to the tall man with a heart of steel. If she dug deeper into the memories from then and now, she saw a pattern of hard work and dark days. In this memory, she saw a tall woman; around Elizabeth's height, with sharp ice blue eyes and long, raven black hair, giving Barret instructions. She couldn't quite understand what she said, for Barret barely remember himself, but one part came out sharp and clear. "... You are to kill Elizabeth Laine, I don't need that bitch ruining my plans, after all." The women, striking familiar, clapped her hands together, a cold flame glowing in her eyes. "I have big plans for this school." She glanced up at Barret, the flame in her eyes darkening as she looked up and ran her finger along his jaw, forcing him to turn down and look at her. "Isn't it just all so exciting?" Not waiting for an answer, she then reached up on her toes, as if to kiss him, and Elizabeth felt like she was going to hurl as realization suddenly struck her-

And then she was dropped back into the present, gasping for air on the tile floor as she clenched her stomach. Tears streamed down her face, blood streamed down her stomach, and thoughts streamed through her brain. It took a lot of work, but she was finally able to spit out a line of unfinished thoughts, almost completely incoherent as her mind raced- "Phoebe. A-Agrona. Your- your parents- and you- you're a- why?" She whispered the last word as she stared at the ground with wide amber eyes, trying to take everything in at once, though finding that extremely hard to accomplish. She had placed what little trust she had left in him, and he had returned the favor by placing a knife into her torso. 
She wondered, a faint thought in her mind, (though it sounded loud above all the other trains of thoughts) why the ones she cared about always ended up hurting her in the end.

He shut his eyes tightly, momentarily trying to numb his conscious and make it easier pushing the blade in. He heard a sharp gasp from the girl, but said nothing, thrusting the small blade in deeper until he felt a familiar warm, red liquid on his hand. Why wasn't she screaming? Why wasn't she fighting? Barret flinched in realization. She was laughing. "Elizabeth?" He whispered, staying where he was and refusing to look at her. Like the girl had lost all control, she fell on him, sending herself deeper into the knife, head falling against his shoulder. He didn't understand what was going on. "Lizzie!" The man hissed in her ear. She gasped again and he pulled the blade out, tossing it on the counter and holding her up by the shoulders, his hand returning to her face - noticing how wet they were with tears. Looking at her now, her amber eyes seemed lost and in a total daze. She seemed completely out of it.
He helped her to gently fall on the tile, staring down at her and picking up his knife again, watching her for a few moments before she started gasping - as if she was desperately reaching for air after near drowning underwater. Barret's copper eyes widened in surprise at the words that she sputtered out, and then narrowed in anger. "What did you see?" He muttered, then shook his head. No, it wasn't important. She was dying anyways, though he felt extremely violated. He walked over and kneeled down next to her. "You wouldn't understand why," He said in a voice just louder than a whisper, "But your cousin has something I need, and you -" Barret paused, frowning. "You're just in the way."
He stayed silent for a good time after that, staring at the ground and the small red puddle that was starting to grow around her. "I didn't want to hurt you." Instinct told him to move now, leave her and stop wasting time, but...

Elizabeth looked up, her eyes still a bit dull from the memories that had previously flashed through her mind. Even through a daze and quickly darkening edges of her vision, she spotted anger darken Barret's eyes. Slowly looking down at the wound on her stomach, Elizabeth studied it for the first time. The blade had cut deep- probably pierced an important artery or vein, or maybe this amount of blood was normal. Because really, there was so much blood. She wrapped her hand around her wound, applying pressure like she thought she was suppose to do, numbly watching the red, metallic liquid paint her hand. "I saw enough." With each word, blood pulsed like a heart beat past her makeshift barrier and on to her now-ruined pajamas. Her next words came out barely a whisper, quiet and soft. "Barret. I'm so sorry. About what I saw- what you went through. I'm sorry I'm in the way. I'm always in the way." She used a blood stained hand to wipe away tears, leaving a trail of blood, quickly washed away in a stream of tears. She remembered her father's deep, slurred voice, telling her how she had gotten in the way of her parents marriage, how it was her fault that he was like he was. A drunk, broken hearted disaster, with hands and words that couldn't control themselves. Because of her.
She hardly felt the pain anymore, and knew that was a bad sign. She knew she was going to die. She could feel death's grip tightening around her throat, around her mind, around her whole world. She wondered if what they said was true, and that before you died your life flashed before your eyes. She hoped not. Her life hadn't been that pretty, and she'd rather die with it forgotten- though that was unlikely. Still, as she began to realize death was just on the horizon for her, she felt coldly calm. After all she had been through, a bit of peace and quiet couldn't be that horrible, right?
Closing her eyes, Elizabeth let out a shaky sigh.
At his last words, she noticeably flinched, her body shaking. Her face was pale, her eyes were red, but there was a fire to them that hadn't been there before. She lifted her chin just a bit to meet Barret's eyes. "But that's just it," She whispered, her words ringing in her ears. "We never mean to hurt the ones we care about- if you even cared about me. Probably not, but-" Her voice faltered for a moment and her head was spinning, but she went on anyway. "You say you didn't mean it, but you put a knife through my skin anyway, right?" Her eyes, previously tightly closed, blinked open. "My father always told me he didn't mean to hurt me. I don't know if anyone means anything they say anymore, but I know that whenever someone says they don't mean to hurt you, it's not entirely true." Looking down at her blood covered hands, she avoided his copper gaze. "Leave, Barret. Spare me your words. I think you've hurt me enough for a lifetime." She was content with just dying there, laying in a pool of her blood and a ocean of thoughts, if that meant she could finally rid herself of all the pain. Honestly, she could ask for nothing more.

Barret said nothing, his copper eyes clouded as he listened to her apologies, gripping his knife tighter and gritting his teeth. He wasn't sure how to answer that, or if it was even worthy anything to answer at all. He had always been one to have a tight grip on his emotions, never letting them get the best of him, to make him sway or keep him from doing from what he needed to accomplish. Yet, still, an overflowing feeling a guilt was starting to tear at him. The dark, red liquid spilling out across the cold tile reached his knees, "No." He growled, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.
Up until this moment, he'd done everything that had been asked of him with little or no question - Phoebe's plan seemingly flawless, but what was it all for? For revenge, he knew. For power. That was all he'd wanted, to be strong enough from letting even the universe from getting the best of him. Selfish reasons, surely, but now he felt there was something missing - something he didn't understand.
He swallowed hard, "I do care about you. Only you." Barret confessed, "But I can't..." He stared down at the silver in his hand, narrowing his eyes and sheathing it closed, he stuck it back in his jacket. "You think you understand, but you don't - you hardly know the half of it. I would've lost you sooner or later, it was inevitable." It would have never worked out between them, but...
A dark glint flashed in his eyes as she finished and he shook his head. No, he'd committed plenty of dire sins in the past - and would make many more tonight, but Elizabeth's death wasn't going to be one of them. It was almost certain to him that she'd never be able to forgive what he had done, or accept the person that he was; she probably hated him, but it didn't matter to him. Was he being a selfish bastard, or just being plain stupid to save her life? Perhaps both.
The man quickly stood up and started looking around in her drawers, finally finding and pulling out a kitchen towel. He got back down and quickly tore her shirt out of the way, pressing it against her stomach. "You're going to live and forget about who you are, all about this place, about me, everything. And you're going to run and never look back." There was no other option in his mind. He leaned forward and grabbed the side of her face with his free hand, trying to see if was still awake, and gently pressing his lips against her forehead when he realized she was so. "I'm sorry." He whispered.
It probably wasn't the best thing to do, but he had to try. Barret grabbed her keys and lifted her up in his arms, carrying her out and placing her in the passenger seat of her own car. He had to get her to the school, and to Melody - she'd be cared for then. And while the commotion might be a bit delaying, he could still finish the other jobs he had been given. But Elizabeth would live. She'd have too.