Title: Let's Have Our Last Supper As Us Two Lovers.
Paring: Morgan/Reid.
Rating: Mature.
Warning(s): Death. Suicide.
Summary: Henning, Tennessee was a small town established in 1873. One or two murders had occurred in this small town within the last three decades, something the residents of Henning were immensely proud of.
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds, nor these characters.
Authors Note: This is probably the darkest I've ever gone with a story, and I find that even though it's dark, I quite like it, and hope you will give it a chance. It's not everyone's cup of tea, I understand this, and warn that it does not have a happy ending.
Let's Have Our Last Supper As Us Two Lovers.
Henning, Tennessee was a small town established in 1873. One or two murders had occurred in this small town within the last three decades, something the residents of Henning were immensely proud of. They weren't, however, very proud as of the past ten months. No, they were terrified. No one wanted to go outside past midnight. Some of the oddest occurrences were happening in this remote location in the western part of the volunteer state, and everyone was on edge. The police who were usually occupied with theft and public intoxication knew that they were out of their depth with this one and needed help, and quickly.
"Couples are murdered then staged?" questioned Prentiss, head tilted to the side with her lips pursed outward.
"Uh, no ma'am. These people never met, or hardly knew each other," admitted Sheriff Walters. The team had been given little to no information about the case at hand, but were vastly realizing that they had walked into a substantial mess.
"This is a rather small town, how could the victims not know each other?" Reid inquired, studying the crime scene photographs.
"Well, some folks come up here from Memphis to fish and hunt. Amy Seward and her husband Jonathan had just moved here from Alabama, and kept mostly to themselves, real quiet people."
"So, none of these people were actually in a relationship," Hotch synthesized.
"No, sir."
"It says here that all of the victims had chicken in their stomachs and alcohol in their system," Reid noted.
"Is it possible the Unsub's feeding them before shooting them?" Morgan pondered, catching Reid's eye, the other agent looking quickly away.
"It would appear that way," Rossi commented, going over the details of the case again, "I think the Unsub's making them reenact a certain event," he added after a moment.
"Making them reenact?" Sheriff Walters asked, perplexed.
"The victims are all found two days after they've been abducted. They've got to be doing something with them."
"They? Don't you mean he? Aren't most serial killers men?"
"Most, but not all," Morgan answered.
"The way they place the bodies, it's as though their embracing, saying their last goodbyes. The Unsub seems to be placing them to rest, taking time to lay them down gently and carefully," Prentiss mused.
After a few more hours of intense research, the team was forced back to the bed and breakfast they were staying at. Henning was so small that there were no hotels anywhere near the town. Marcy Anderson was the owner and sole operator of the bed and breakfast. She was a middle aged woman with a sweet smile and sad eyes.
"You know, your one team equals my guest list for three months," she joked.
"Wow," Reid commented, childlike.
"Are you the only one who runs this place, Mrs. Anderson?" Prentiss curiously asked.
"Oh goodness, yes. I only married once, we divorced many years ago, he was a nice man. I have a daughter, but she's off in the city, a big time journalist," Mrs. Anderson answered proudly.
Reid sighed deeply, he had a lot on his mind, and hoped a hot shower would help to sooth his unease. Never had he imagined this would ever be so difficult. Reid was pretty certain that the whole team was aware, and if not, at least suspected that he and Morgan were a couple. This frustrated Reid to no end because Morgan still kept their relationship so secretive. What was even more difficult then trying to hide themselves from their colleagues was them trying to hide their ever increasing arguments. This whole thing was beginning to take a toll on Reid. There were an ever increasing number of doubts running through his mind. They couldn't even brush up against each other accidentally without Morgan freaking. Reid decided that it was best if he put some distance between them.
Reid still carried a frown on his face as he laid down on the soft mattress. The bed and breakfast was definitely better than any hotel room the doctor had ever stayed in. It made him feel at ease, like home. Rubbing his eyes, he thought back on the case they were all currently facing, and just how odd it was. Eight bodies, four different locations where they were dumped. The victims appeared to be victims of opportunity. Two strangers abducted within the same day at different times. Bold. Two were placed on a familiar hiking trail. Two had been found in a local park. Two were placed in an abandoned dance studio, and two had been placed within a cemetery.
Those places must mean something to them, but what? Reid pondered and pondered late into the night, but never reached a solid conclusion, but then again, nothing was ever truly solid, he posed.
The next morning, the team was up bright and early. The department was small, and they took up most of the limited space. Reid stared intently at the portable white board, writing down small and large details, adding pictures and information of each and everyone of the eight victims. Six women and two men. Gender made no difference to the Unsub, and that made things all the more difficult. Reid stood, one hand under his chin and the other slung over his opposite hip. This puzzle was no closer to being solved then it had been when they first arrived.
"I thought you could use some coffee," Morgan announced, his way of saying apologizing.
"I'm not thirsty," Spencer retorted, telling Morgan that he was not forgiven.
"Listen, Spence..." Morgan was interrupted by a loud commotion, Sheriff Walters announced that they had another pair of bodies on their hands.
"Morgan, Reid, I need you two to go and check this out. That two pairs of bodies withing two weeks, it might be the beginning of a downward spiral," Hotch told them.
They quickly organized themselves, following two other officers plus the sheriff to the crime scene where three other officers had already sealed off the location. Reid knew something didn't feel right. The last four locations had been public areas. The current location where one man and one woman had been found was remote; isolated. There were only four houses within a twenty mile radius, two of which were abandoned, one leased, but the owner, Michael Reyes, had passed away two years ago, leaving the property to his daughter, Isabel, who resided in Memphis. Only one house was occupied, but the owners of the house were on vacation in Florida. Reid scanned the entire area, only noticing a small creek with a handmade wooden board substituting as a bridge.
With Morgan preoccupied, Reid wandered off and into the forest. The closest house was within walking distance, and as Reid approached closer, he noticed that this was one of the abandoned houses mentioned earlier. The few curtains that remained hanging were discolored and slowly falling apart. The door, pretty much rotted wood now, was easy enough to open. Inside, the entire lower floor felt hot and smelled of musk and mold. Whoever had left this place hadn't taken much with them. In fact, everything had seemed to be forgotten. Reid studied some of the pictures on the wall. What appeared to be a small family, consisting of a mother, father, and daughter. Higher up on the wall was a picture of the same blonde headed girl, this time with another female, a brunette. She appeared older in this photo, and as he studied the frame, Reid found an inscription on the back that read: Jasmine and Isabel, 1993.
They must be in their late twenties or early thirties by now, Reid estimated, setting the photograph down before climbing the rest of the way upstairs. Once there, he entered the first room to the right. Reid knew that this had to have belonged to Jasmine. The walls were decorated in paintings, art supplies decorated most of the room, but something was...off. The bed was only a full sized standard frame. The bedding was pink with white lace. The room hadn't aged, Reid noticed. More photo's littered the single desk in the room, mostly consisting of the same four people. Isabel & Jasmine, Fort Pillow State Park: 1994. Isabel & Jasmine, Lower Hatchive National Wild Life Refuge: 1998. Isabel and Jasmine, Rays dance studio: 1996. Reid studied each photograph's setting, they looked familiar, in fact...
A loud crash came from down stairs, startling Reid and alerting him to be careful. With his gun drawn, Reid crept down the stairs, slowly. Searching both the dinning room the and living room, Reid moved into the kitchen where he saw Morgan and a person, he presumed was the Unsub, dressed in black with a white mask and a gun in their hand, pointing it at Morgan's head.
"Put the gun on the ground, and get down on your knees," the voice that commanded Reid to surrender was that of a female. Reid starred at the sight in front of him, stunned. Morgan had a nasty gash to his head, and was cradling the injury.
"Don't do it, Spencer," Morgan warned.
"Put the gun on the ground or I'll shoot him!" She shouted.
"Maybe we can talk about this," Reid attempted, settling his gun onto the tiled floor.
"No. There's no more time to talk. I need you to get down on your knees next to him, and drink this," the woman tossed a small vile to him, most likely GHB. That made sense, Reid thought. She held her victims at gunpoint, told them to drink the narcotic and by the time she killed them, the drug had been flushed out of their system.
"Isabel, I can't do that," Reid spoke, wishing to hold and inspect Morgan.
"You can, and you will," she spat, it was obvious she was in distress. Reid swallowed harshly, knowing he had placed not only himself in mortal danger, but Morgan as well.
Hotch paced the room, it had been eight hours since they had found Reid and Morgan's SUV abandoned outside one of the houses. The team leader had ordered everyone that could go out there right away to tear the place apart if they had to, but all that was found were both Reid and Morgan's weapons and a small pool of blood in the kitchen.
"I need to know who lived in that house, sheriff," he demanded, patience wearing thin. The sheriff looked down at his desk shamefully.
"Amanda and Seth Johnson and their daughter, Jasmine," he answered.
"Why did they abandon that house?"
"Their daughter Jasmine was killed twelve years ago."
"Kill—"
"She wasn't killed, Jeff, she was slaughtered,"interrupted deputy Brian Mitchel, obviously upset.
"Did you know her?" Questioned Hotch, sternly.
"Knew her, I was in love with the girl from the time I was ten years old."
"Brian, shut it."
"No. These folks need to know, Jeff, and Jasmine...she needs some justice."
"The men who killed her were sent to prison."
"And have a chance of parole in three years!"
"Enough! Tell me what happened to her, now." Prentiss shook at the force of Hotch's words. She knew that whatever was going to come out of the deputies mouth was not going to be pleasant.
"I loved her alright, but she didn't love me. In fact, her heart didn't belong to any boy. She was tortured at school. She barely graduated, she was bullied so bad. I couldn't do anything to help her...I was so scrawny back then," his voice shook, eyes welling with tears," she got out, they both did...but her mama fell ill and her daddy needed help, so she came back, and it was like high school all over again, but with grown folks! I told her, I told her so many times, Jasmine don't go out after night, you know...you know that there's idiots out there at night, but she didn't listen. She refused to be afraid. They found her face down in a creek not two days later, beaten so bad that they couldn't recognize her by looking at her. Three men. Three grown men had brutalized her to death, and no one cared! No one cared...except for me and her daddy. I think her mama died of shock and a broken heart, I do," he finished, face red and fist clenched.
"You said they, who's they? Jasmine and?"
"...Sweet Jesus," muttered Walters, jumping to his feet.
"Dave, get Marcy on the phone!" he shouted.
"Marcy Anderson?" Prentiss pondered, surprised.
"Yes, Isabel's mama."
"Her daughter, you think he daughter did this?"
"Isabel and Jasmine were lovers, they had moved away together to Memphis."
"More like they were forced out. They were still young-in's when they left," Brian bit.
"Is Isabel's last name Anderson?" Hotch pressed, dialing Garcia's number.
"No, Reyes like her daddy, but he passed on a few years back. He left her a lot of property, though, but she hadn't touched it. Hadn't been around these parts since his funeral, I don't believe."
Morgan's vision came back blurry, and a throbbing pain danced around in his head. The agent was confused and sick to his stomach, but coming back to his senses, albeit slowly. A few more minutes passed and he was finally able to keep his eyes open. Morgan was upright in a wooden chair, a small dinning table in front of him. Reid sat opposite, already awake. Morgan reached out for him, but realized that his wrist were chained, but the chains that bound him were astoundingly long in length. On the table rested two plates filled with roasted chicken and what smelled to be garlic. Two lit candles also resided on the table along with two wine glasses, filled to the rim with red wine. In the back round, Morgan could hear Billie Holiday.
"Hey, Kid."
"Hey yourself," Reid replied softly, Morgan could see his hands trembling against the table top, could see his shoulders shaking softly.
"Spencer..."
"I'm sorry, Derek. I'm so, so sorry," he said, tears building in his eyes. Derek was resigned to the fact that there was a good possibility that they weren't going to make it out of this one.
"Hey now, don't go blaming this all on yourself. If I hadn't been so uptight, so distant...I wouldn't have let you wander off like that. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize you were gone," Morgan spoke, letting everything out; holding nothing back.
The two didn't touch their meals, but each drank their last glass of wine. They were constantly at war with each other, both mentally and physically separated. It was a shock that they were ever able to meet in the middle, but Morgan loved Reid, and Reid loved Morgan. Lady Sings the Blues came over the speakers. They were no doubt underground, a cellar more than likely, but that didn't matter. Morgan stood to his feet, a little wobbly at first, and extended his hand to Reid.
"You mind dancing with me one last time?" Reid smiled sadly at him, accepting his offer. They danced slowly, like they did when they were alone and Reid felt comfortable and relaxed enough.
"Too bad we couldn't do this openly, huh?" Morgan spoke hoarsely, raw emotion seeping out of him, "I'm really sorry, Spence," he cried, holding the man closer to him. Reid's fingers dug into his shoulder blades, holding him as tight to his person as he possibly could.
"Don't apologize, we're doing it now. Together."
"Together."
"Jasmine, please, think about this."
"Isabel, there's nothing to think about, she's my mom."
"We could bring her here. You shouldn't have to go back to that place," Isabel spoke with much emotion, holding her lovers hand in her own. Sapphire blue eyes looked at her with such love and admiration.
"Isabel, I'm not afraid," Jasmine promptly told her worried spouse, leaning forward and placing a soft kiss to the other woman's forehead, begging her to finally go to sleep. After much reluctance, the woman gave in. She held the love of her life close, bouncing those words around in her head.
"But I was," Isabel sobbed, bringing herself back to reality. She was distraught, reading the writing on the back of Jasmine's last letter.
Mama is looking and doing so much better! Hopefully, she will make a full recovery, and I can finally come back to you, baby.
Te am siempre y para siempre.
PS: Your daddy taught me that the other day.
Love, Jasmine.
Tears fell from dark eyes, how many years had passed since Jasmine's body had been placed into the cold, unforgiving ground? How many years had she had to walk this Earth alone? Too many. There was no forgiveness in her heart, no more love. Isabel was no longer a person, though she pretended to be. Blood stained her clothes as she took her fathers old shotgun into her trembling hands. Isabel had never been a fan of guns, but now she considered the one nestled in her lap as her best friend. It would finally end her suffering.
"I know you're leaving tomorrow, so I wanted to surprise you with dinner," Isabel spoke excitedly as Jasmine stepped inside the couples home, still dressed in her work scrubs. Art had taken a back seat to a nursing career.
"You, cooking dinner? Baby, I'm just surprised the house isn't burnt down!" Jasmine laughed, taking in the candle lit dinner of garlic roasted chicken and red wine."Gosh, Isabel, you didn't have to do all of this!"
"Yes, I did. Ten years of having to pretend that we were just friends, Jasmine, I was ready to shout it from the rooftop," Isabel spoke honestly, remembering all of the torment they were forced to endure. She wrapped her arms around the slender woman's waist, kissing her nose gently.
"Isabel, I love you so much. Those years didn't matter none to me, and you know why?"
"Why?"
"Because we were together."
"We always will be."
They always would be, forever together in death.
"Garcia, what do you have?" Prentiss questioned frantically in the passenger seat as they followed the sheriff to the Reyes' farm.
"Henry Reyes was married to Amy Anderson for three years, they divorced with one child. In 2003, Henry was diagnosed with colon cancer, and died soon afterward. Henry left over two hundred and fifty acres of land to his only daughter, Isabel. I scanned the property around the main house and was able to locate a barn and a cellar used mainly for severe thunder storms and tornadoes." When they arrived to the main house, they heard a loud scream emitted from within the rundown walls. Marcy Anderson ran outside, dropping to her knees as Brian held her, shedding his own regretful tears.
Isabel Reyes was pronounced dead at 1:15am.
Prentiss' throat constricted, and she suddenly felt weak. Rossi did his best to lead her forward, but as they approached the underground cellar, he lost his courage his courage as well.
Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid were pronounced dead at 2:20am.
On a Thursday afternoon, Isabel was laid to rest in a small cemetery not too far from her childhood home in the small town of Henning, Tennessee. Beside her, rested Jasmine Johnson. A small town had treated them with such cruelty, but within its confines, they were able to find each other.
Their tombstones each were respectfully engraved with two simple words: Para Siempre.
Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid died together in a small town not many people had ever heard of. On a Sunday morning, Derek and Spencer were laid to rest, side by side, by their friends, family, and colleagues. They had been found hand in hand, but had not been placed that way.
In their death, their love came to life.