Much as I would love to own Criminal Minds (not a criminal mind, just the TV show...), I, alas, do not. But if y'all do decide to sue me over this, I claim the right to meet Matthew Gray Gubler face to face. We can arrange that, right?
Okay, all fandom aside, this next set of one-shots needs a bit of an explanation. I was watching the fourth season episode, 'Amplification,' when it struck me that, while TV and the visual media does a very good job of relating some of the internal struggles of the characters, it lacks the narrative view available to writers and those of us whose primary mode of communication is words. *sneaky grin* Y'all know what happened next, right? Cue the Attack of the Muse, who kept me up way past my bedtime in order to get these little babies out of my head and onto my computer. And then off to you-all. Aren't you lucky?
Anyway, these are a few short one-shots written from the perspectives of the individual characters. I think I dropped in enough hints that you'll know where it's coming from, but if not, I do suggest re-watching the episode. Go out, buy the whole season if you have to. Then let the producers of the show know I encouraged it... I might swing my meet-and-greet yet!
For those of you not interested in going out to buy the season (and so help grease the wheels for my trip to meet the actors...) 'Amplification' is the one where a crazy lab assistant manufactures weapons-grade anthrax and then releases it in the Quantico region - literally in the team's backyard. They have to find him before he kills everyone, while dealing with the emotional fallout from being attacked on their own home base.
If you like it, give my review list some lovin'! If you don't like it, please, tell me why. I'm always looking for ways to improve. Thanks all!
"Spence! Did the baby survive?"
"Well, yeah, but, I mean, that was a curable strain. This thing's entirely different."
The conversation echoed through her head. Henry. How had she not thought about Henry? This was a local attack, it should have been setting off alarm bells from the first time she'd learned of it. What sort of mother was she that she could forget about her own son in a time of crisis?
Jennifer Jareau knew the psychological reason - she was so accustomed to cases being far outside of her home, far away, of Henry and Will always being her safe island to return to after the insanity of her work.
Now that barrier had been ripped away and her loved ones were exposed, potential targets of a random killer.
Every instinct within her screamed at her to call home, to warn Will, to get her family as far away as possible. It would cost her her job, but what of it? What would her life be worth without Henry?
But her hand froze as she reached for her cell, an image painting itself across the inside of her eyes of the panic this one phone call might cause. Of Will, holding Henry in his arms, rushing through an airport. An airport that was jammed full of panicking people, turning formerly orderly lines into a mob scene, overwhelming security as they fled the city of death. Her mind's eye pictured Henry knocked from Will's grip, thrown to the floor, crushed underfoot by the crazed crowds. Her line of work meant that she could fill in the picture with the actual, vivid colors and squishing sounds, far more gruesome than those fortunates who had to make do with Hollywood special effects.
Shuddering, she turned from the phone. She had dealt with the backwash of idiots blabbing confidential case details to the media too many times to want to risk doing that to her team, to the people of this region. Panic would kill more people than the anthrax, and she refused to let her son be one of them.
But oh, God please, let Henry be safe!