Chapter 19: The Invitation (Accepted)
The taste of Elle's lips lingered longer than the drive home.
I pulled into my apartment complex at half past midnight, the Virginia night cold and clear overhead. The engine ticked as it cooled. I sat in the dark, hands still on the wheel, processing what had just happened.
She kissed me. I kissed her back. Something started tonight.
The system had been silent for hours—no alerts, no analysis, no cold data overlaying the warmth of human connection. I appreciated that. Some things shouldn't be quantified.
My phone buzzed. Elle.
Get home safe?
I typed back: Just arrived. Tonight was good.
Her reply came fast: Yeah. It was.
Then, after a pause: We should talk about what this means. For work.
I stared at the screen. She was right. The BAU was a small world, and relationships between team members complicated everything. Hotch would have opinions. Gideon would analyze. Garcia would know before anyone said a word.
Tomorrow? I sent.
Call me in the morning. Before we go in.
Will do.
I pocketed the phone and finally got out of the car.
My apartment felt emptier than usual. The same four walls, the same sparse furniture, the same careful anonymity I'd cultivated since arriving in this world. But something had shifted. The isolation I'd built as armor suddenly felt less like protection and more like a cage.
She let you in. Into her space, her stories, her life.
And you're still lying to her about everything that matters.
I poured a glass of water, drank it standing at the kitchen sink. The reflection in the dark window showed a man who looked like he was thinking too hard.
Transmigrator. System user. Walking around with knowledge of futures I can't share.
And now romantically involved with a woman whose trajectory I know ends badly.
The Fisher King. The shooting. William Lee. The spiral that would cost Elle her badge and nearly her life.
Can you change that? Should you try?
Or does trying make it worse?
No answers came. The universe didn't offer those.
I showered, changed, lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Sleep was slow in coming, but when it arrived, it was deeper than expected.
[REST CYCLE: OPTIMAL]
[FOCUS POOL: RESTORED TO 50/50]
[NOTE: EMOTIONAL STATE ELEVATED — PSYCHOLOGICAL STABILITY IMPROVING]
The morning arrived gray and quiet.
I made coffee—the same cheap brand that tasted worse now that I'd shared good wine with Elle—and waited for a reasonable hour to call her. 7 AM felt safe. Early enough to be before work, late enough not to seem desperate.
She answered on the second ring.
"Hey."
"Hey yourself." Her voice was warm, slightly rough from sleep. "You're an early riser."
"Military habits. They stick."
"I'm making coffee. Hold on." Sounds of movement, water running, the click of a machine starting. "Okay. I'm back."
"We should talk about last night."
"We should." A pause. "I don't regret it, if that's what you're worried about."
Something loosened in my chest.
"Neither do I."
"Good. Then the only question is what we do about work."
I'd thought about this during the sleepless parts of the night.
"We keep it private," I said. "At least for now. No point complicating things when we don't even know what this is yet."
"Agreed. Professional at the office. Whatever we're doing, we do it on our own time."
"Can you do that? The professional distance thing?"
She laughed—short, dry, slightly bitter.
"I've been keeping distance my whole career, Mercer. It's practically my specialty." A beat. "The question is whether you can. You're harder to read than most people, but you're not invisible."
"I'll manage."
"Morgan's going to notice something. He's got radar for that kind of thing."
"Then we give him nothing to find."
"Easier said than done." But her voice was lighter now. "Okay. Game plan established. Professional distance at work, figure out the rest as we go."
"Works for me."
"Good." Another pause, longer this time. "Ethan?"
"Yeah?"
"I meant what I said last night. Whatever you're carrying—you don't have to carry it alone. I'm not saying you need to tell me everything. I know there are things you can't share. But the parts you can? I'm here for those."
The weight of what I couldn't tell her pressed against my ribs.
She's offering trust. Real trust.
And I can only give her pieces.
"Same goes for you," I said. "Whatever happens—we face it together."
"Deal." She yawned. "Okay, I need more coffee before I become a functional human. See you at work. Remember—professional."
"Professional," I agreed.
She hung up.
I finished my own coffee, showered again (a nervous habit I'd developed), and dressed for work. The face in the bathroom mirror looked the same as always, but something behind the eyes had changed.
You're not alone anymore.
Not completely.
The drive to Quantico was routine. Traffic on I-95, NPR murmuring about politics I barely tracked, the familiar exit that led to the BAU. I parked in my usual spot, gathered my things, and walked toward the building.
Elle's car was already there.
Professional distance. Starting now.
The bullpen was quiet when I arrived—early enough that only the dedicated were at their desks. Reid was there, predictably, buried in a case file. Morgan hadn't arrived yet. JJ was in her office, phone pressed to her ear.
Elle sat at her desk, coffee in hand, studying something on her computer screen. She looked up as I entered.
A nod. Professional. Appropriate.
I nodded back.
That was all. No lingering glances, no secret smiles, no indication that anything had changed between us.
Good. This can work.
I settled at my own desk, pulled up my email, let the routine of bureaucratic morning absorb me. Thirty minutes later, Morgan arrived with pastries from the bakery down the street.
"Breakfast," he announced, dropping a bag on Reid's desk. "You look like you haven't eaten in three days."
"I ate dinner last night," Reid protested. "A perfectly adequate meal of—"
"Don't tell me. I don't want to know." Morgan turned, offering the bag around. "Mercer. Greenaway. Sustenance?"
Elle took a croissant without looking up from her screen. "Thanks."
I grabbed a danish. "Appreciated."
Morgan's eyes moved between us—quick, assessing, the profiler's habit of cataloguing everything.
He's already looking. Don't give him anything.
"Quiet morning," Morgan said. "Too quiet. Makes me nervous."
"Enjoy it while it lasts," Elle replied. "JJ's got that look. Means something's coming."
She was right. Thirty minutes later, JJ emerged from her office with case files.
"Conference room in ten. New priority."
The day had officially begun.
To supporting Me in Pateron .
with exclusive access to more chapters (based on tiers more chapters for each tiers) on my Patreon, you get more chapters if you ask for more (in few days), plus new fanfic every week! Your support starting at just $6/month helps me keep crafting the stories you love across epic universes like [ In The Witcher With Avatar Powers,In The Vikings With Deja Vu System,Stranger Things Demogorgon Tamer ...].
By joining, you're not just getting more chapters—you're helping me bring new worlds, twists, and adventures to life. Every pledge makes a huge difference!
👉 Join now at patreon.com/TheFinex5 and start reading today!