Two Sides of the Same Coin
A/N: An anon request for a fic where the reader has split personality disorder and the team finds out during an interrogation that Hotch is conducting. Starts out from the ‘you’ POV, but switches halfway through to the alter, referred to in the third person. I did name the alter, so if the alter happens to have your actual name, I’m sorry >.< @coveofmemories
Warnings: Referenced rape and cutting.
“Hello, Y/N,” the man said as he walked into the interrogation room. “My name is Agent Aaron Hotchner. I need to ask you a couple of questions about Chase Terry.”
You twitched at the name - the one you tried so hard to forget. To forget the feel of his breath at the nape of your neck. To forget the pervasive scent of cigarette smoke as he pushed himself against you. To forget the feel of his hand as it slipped into your panties. To forget the way you’d cried out in pain when he pushed himself into you. You’d been trying to forget, but the second this man brought up his name, everything came flooding back to you. “What about him?” you asked hotly. Why was it that every time you were close to putting this whole thing behind you, someone brought it up and forced you to relieve your ordeal over and over again?
“He’s dead,” he said, pulling out a picture of a body, which you immediately flinched from. “We’re trying to figure out who killed him?”
“And you think I did it?” you asked. As much as you wanted the man dead, so he could never hurt you or anyone else again, you didn’t have it in you to take the life of another.
Agent Hotchner searched your eyes for truth, but you couldn’t read him. “I didn’t say that. But I do need to ask you about your past with him.”
“There was no past!” you yelled to the unflinching agent as tears pricked the corners of your eyes. “I’d never met him before he pushed me up against a wall, ripped my clothes off and raped me up against a wall. If that’s what you consider a past, that was the extent of it!”
It was frustrating looking at the man across from you, because you couldn’t read him. Did he believe you? Did he think you killed this man? You couldn’t tell. “Where were you this past Tuesday at 10:15 PM?”
“I was at home in my apartment, alone,” you replied, knowing immediately the conclusion that he would make. But it wasn’t true, you didn’t have the ability to kill someone, no matter how much you hated them. Plus, the idea of actually going and seeking him out made you sick. You wanted nothing to do with that man again for as long as you lived. “I didn’t kill anyone, Agent Hotchner.”
He seemed to both believe and doubt you at the same time. However that was possible. “I want to believe you, Y/N,” he said softly, pushing a piece of paper across the table toward you. “But we found a drop of blood outside your apartment and it belongs to him.”
As you looked down at the paper, you didn’t know how to explain it, but it was there plain as day - it was his blood. “I don’t know what to tell you Agent Hotchner. Except that maybe someone is trying to frame me. I didn’t kill him. I hate him for what he did to me, making me feel like I could never truly be safe again, but I don’t have it in me to kill someone.” You glanced toward the side, keeping your gaze away from the picture of Chase stabbed and slashed to death. It was too gruesome to look at.
“Right now, our evidence points to you as the killer,” he said, “So we have to keep you here for a while until we figure things out.” That was the last thing you remembered…
Agent Hotchner stood up from the table, tapping the file against it as he got up. When all of a sudden Y/N buried her head in the table. “We’ll have you out of here soon,” he said softly.
“Don’t lie,” she said coolly, her head popping up from the table. The troubled angry woman from before had disappeared. The woman looking at him now was calm, cool, collected…nothing like before. “Why do you people always lie?”
This wasn’t the same person. Even physically, the body language had changed. Where before, she was crossing her arms over her chest in an attempt to protect herself, now she had her hands stretched behind her back, grabbing on to the chair. Hotch knew the signs when he saw them. “What is your name?”
“I’ve already told you,” she said, the corner of her mouth ticking upward in a smirk as her neck craned from side to side. “Y/N.”
“You’re not Y/N,” he said matter-of-factly. “She doesn’t know you exist, does she?”
A low, gravelly laugh emanated from her throat as her eyes fluttered closed and she began to stretch. “You’re not as dumb as you look.” She stood up from the table, cooly walking across the room as she introduced herself. “I’m Carla. Y/N needs me.”
“Why does she need you?” Agent Hotchner asked as the two circled the room. “How long have you been with her?”
Carla had been around since the second Y/N dropped to floor after her rape. She knew that Y/N wouldn’t be able to handle the aftermath on her own, so she showed herself so that her host would make it through instead of taking a blade to her arm the way she wanted to. “Since that disgusting excuse for a human being violated her. She needs me because if I’m not here, she wants to kill herself. When that happens, I take over.”
“Did you kill Chase?” he asked. He had a feeling he knew the answer, but he desperately wanted for it to not be true. Y/N didn’t do anything wrong, but the other person inside her mind didn’t seem to care.
Carla said nothing. Instead just smiling as she continued to circle the room, staring at Agent Hotchner like he were a fresh piece of roadkill to a hungry vulture.
“Does Y/N’s life mean nothing to you?” he asked. “She’ll go away for what you did.”
“No she won’t,” Carla said, sitting back down at the table and crossing her legs. “You have to prove it was me first. And even if you do, I just won’t let her out again. She needs to be protected and I will do whatever is necessary to keep her safe.”
“But then it’s not her life anymore. It’s yours,” he said. Reid had been through this once before. Amanda was still holding Adam hostage after all these years, and Hotch had a feeling Carla was about to do the same. “You keep talking about wanting to protect her, but you’re not. You’re not allowing her to work through her grief. You’re making her try and forget something that can’t be forgotten.”
“Sometimes that’s what it takes,” Carla said sadly. “But if effectively killing her is what it takes to save her sanity, I’ll take that chance.”