Title: Round and Round.
Rating: PG-13.
Pairing: Morgan/Reid.
Summary: That's when the idea nearly struck her off her feet: she needed to mesh them together!
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds, nor any of the characters mentioned.
Round and Round
The morning is dark and wet, the sun has yet to rise as the team boards the jet. They were off to Cleveland, Ohio. Now, Penelope didn't want to complain, but she needed at least a full nights rest to keep that beautiful face of hers, but never mind that. There were more important things at hand. I'm afraid they weren't heading to Ohio for pleasantries.
Cleveland had reached out for their help, three interracial couples had been brutally attacked, all of the men killed, and they were no where near identifying a suspect let alone apprehending one. The team wasted no time, however, in trying to build a profile with the information they had been given. They did their best at this early hour. Rossi was sitting across from the main table, dozing in and out, Seaver kept him alert as best as she could, waving her hand in front of his face.
Hotch remained standing, looking over Penelope's shoulder at the laptop she had brought with her. Reid sat, reading the documents that had been faxed over to them, nursing a coffee Morgan had offered to him. No matter what happened, what they faced, those two kept each other going. Penelope raised an eyebrow at them, but dropped the words that were at the tip of her tongue as Hotch began to speak.
"So, why does our Unsub attack couples?"
"Well, we can definitely rule out victims of opportunity," Rossi commented, hand over his face as he studied his own files.
"Yes. One interracial couple could be means of opportunity, but not three," Seaver added.
"Maybe he doesn't agree with two races mingling together," Reid mused, eyebrows turned downward. Morgan looked over the photographs of the victims, "It could be more than that."
"What makes you think so?" Hotch inquired.
"There's more than black and white couples out there, but he only goes after black and white couples. More specifically, white females and black males,"Morgan paused for a moment, looking at Reid before turning his attention towards Hotch and Penelope, "I think the Unsub is a bi-racial male with some serious anger management issues."
"That makes our search ten times more difficult, then," Seaver responded, concerned.
"Why's that?" Penelope questioned.
"For mixed children, unless they select one of their parents racial identification, select "other" or "unidentified". You don't only have children who are white and black selecting those boxes, the numbers are endless. Finding adolescent to early adult males with that racial makeup in the prison or juvenile system is well...near impossible," Reid answered, and all eyes were on him, but his eyes rested on Morgan; a mixed child himself.
"Reid's right, this does make finding him more difficult, but what else do we know?" Hotch questioned, and this time, Penelope had the answer.
"Well, this creep seems to only come out at night. As we know, all the victims are white females and black males perceived as couples. Now, I've looked at their files, all victims were attacked at a local store, caught off guard when loading their groceries when they were attacked. The three couples were either far back in the parking lot or off to the side of the building where not many people park. Now, the store surveillance was able to pick up one of the attacks, but the video is gritty, barely able to make out a white jacket with some sort of logo on the back," Penelope finished her piece, and awaited the outcome.
"The grocery stores are all unnamed mom and pop stores, all within the Cuyahoga County. 2.2% of Cleveland's population is of two or more races. Unless the victims are able to give us a description, identification could be hindered," Seaver presented.
The jet landed, but Penelope could not help but notice them again. The way they interacted with limited words and lots of eye contact. It was so obvious, Morgan and Reid had a thing for each other, and it was, Penelope felt, her duty as their friend to make them see that they were crazy for each other. She needed a way to make them see this without compromising the case at hand. She contemplated this the entire time they were checking in, all the way up to her hotel room.
That's when the idea nearly struck her off her feet: she needed to mesh them together! How she was suppose to do this, she wasn't sure. Penelope knew it would come to her though, sooner or later, but she had a job to do.
"Mrs. Whitman, I'm sorry for your loss, and I'm very sorry to put you through this again, but I need to ask you some questions," Derek spoke, sitting across from one of the victims, Lydia Whitman, in her living room. John and Lydia Whitman had been married for over twenty years, and had two children together; Jonathan and Rebecca, eighteen and twelve years of age.
"Okay," she answered softly, barely able to speak through her tears. Reid sat beside him, offering Lydia a box of tissues that rested on the coffee table.
"When the Unsub attacked you, did you get a look at him?"
"I already told the police that it was dark when he attacked us. He had on a white hoodie and black sweatpants...white sneakers..."
"Did you see his face, or notice any scars?"
"When...when John pushed him away from me, he...he looked up, his eyes were light...blue or green, I think."
"What about his hair?"
"Hidden."
"Did he say anything to you or your husband, Mrs. Whitman?" Reid inquired, Mrs. Whitman broke down at his question, there was something she was holding back. She took a deep breath, squeezing her sons hand for comfort and strength.
"He looked at me and said, "I won't let him hurt you, Mom. Not this time.""
Ten minutes of silence plagued Derek and Reid. Derek knew that the man sat in the passenger seat beside him was thinking just as hard as he was about this case, and about a lot of other things as well. The tension between them was high, and only climbing.
"The Unsub's substituting the women for his mother. My guess is that, in all likeliness, he may be substituting the men for his father."
"It's really looking that way," Derek concurs just as Reid's cellphone begins to ring.
"Yeah, Garcia?"he answers, only to hang up a few seconds later.
"What'd she want?"
"For us to pick up something to eat," Reid answers, slightly confused.
"Did she say what she wanted?"
"Dairy Queens."
The two men carried the three full bags in their hands up to Garcia's room. The woman in question opened the door with a smile on her face, and a remote in her hand.
"About time! My Oreo Blizzard better not have melted," she scolded as they entered, sitting down on her bed, and urging Derek and Reid to do the same. Reid ended up laying down on the bed beside Garcia. Derek ended up Indian style on the floor as they all looked over their current case.
"Interracial is the only thing our victims have in common. John and Lydia Whitman were forty and forty-three years old, married. Charles and Robyn Cruise were sixty-five and sixty-four, married over forty-five years, and Eleanor Ramsey and Tyrone Millet were childhood friends who attended the same college, eighteen and twenty-two years of age. Lydia and John were middle class, Charles and Robyn were living off of social security, and Eleanor and Tyrone were both broke college students," Reid commented, taking a bite of his burger as Derek stole one of his french fries, "Hey!"
"Sorry," Derek mumbled, mouth full. Reid shook his head.
"No you're not!"
"I can give it back to you, Pretty Boy, if you're that upset about it," Derek teased, sticking his tongue out at him. Garcia laughed loudly at their escapades until a heavy knock sounded at the door. Derek stood up, opening the door to see Rossi on the other side, a grave look to his face as he said, "He's struck again."
Reid grabbed his coat, and hurried as quickly as he could out the door. Derek following close behind him. Hotch ordered Garcia to come with him back to the police department, Seaver and Rossi rode together, leaving just Derek and Reid.
"He kills the men, and leaves the women unharmed," Reid responded to Garcia on the phone, "we think his father might have killed his mother. Search for black males between the age of forty-five and seventy who have been incarcerated for murdering their spouse or girlfriend, serving twenty-five to life."
Derek knew they were lost, and Reid's comments about his driving weren't helping any. Dispatch came over the radio, sounding off that the suspect was on foot, fleeing down Columbus Avenue, Reid pointed excitedly at an upcoming street. Derek made the next right, high beams on as a figure in a white hoodie ran away from them. Derek threw the SUV into park and went chasing after the Unsub, Reid following suit. Derek was able to tackle the man as he attempted to run into an abandoned apartment complex, weapon drawn as he ordered the man to the ground. The Unsub did as was told, hands above his head as he looked up at Derek, nothing but hatred loomed there.
Spencer was nervous when Morgan announced that he would be the one to interrogate the suspect, Daniel Haywood. Daniel was twenty-seven years old, his father, Jackson Haywood was serving a life sentence for the murder of Janice Haywood, Daniel's mother. Daniel had been raised by his grandparents, Matthew and Sarah Shaw. Matthew and Sarah reported that Daniel was a disturbed child, whose anger only escalated with age. Daniel had been in and out of prison from the time he was seventeen all the way up till last December. On Daniel's last lockup, however, was the first time he had seen his father since he was five years old. That accidental meeting is what they believe set Daniel off.
Spencer chose to stand outside of the interrogation room, watching Morgan work.
"So, what was it, Danny? Seeing your dear old dad make you upset?" he questioned, looming over the stockily built man. Danny merely looked at Morgan with complete and utter malice.
"Oh, don't look at me like that, Danny Boy. I'm not your father."
"You're all the same."
"No. We're not all the same, Danny." Morgan emphazized, piercing eyes studying him. Danny raised a serious brow.
"We're?"
"Yes, we're."
Danny didn't know what to say or think about that. He chose instead to only glare at Morgan harder, studying him.
"Your mom married..."
"Married, what? A black man? Yes, she did."
"Probably some lowlife, drug dealin' thug."
"Actually, my dad was a police officer."
Spencer looked down at his shoes, uncomfortably. Garcia looked at him oddly, but he only smiled faintly at the woman as she patted his shoulder in comfort.
"Do you have a wife? Someone special?"
"I have someone special in my life, yes."
"White? Black? Other?"
"White."
"You don't deserve them. You're only going to hurt them. It's in your blood, just like it's in mine."
"Like your dad hurt your mom? Like those men hurt their wives?"
"Yes!"
"You were only trying to protect them, save them from the same fate your mom suffered at the hands of your father."
"Yes! They're animals, and whether or not you want to believe it, we're animals, too."
They shared a few more words, but the damage was done. Daniel had dug his very own grave, and would more than likely be sent to the same prison where his father dwell. Morgan stepped out of the room, and looked at all of his colleagues that were there. Spencer shook his head, but Morgan stepped towards him anyway, hugging him tightly before releasing him from his embrace.
"You know I'd never leave or hurt you, right?" he asked, and Spencer knew that Daniel had gotten underneath Morgan's skin, at least partially.
"I know that, Derek."
Hotch looked between the two of them, then to the people who stood around them before saying, "Wheels up in thirty."
To say that Penelope Garcia had been surprised would have been the understatement of the year, but by the looks of it, she wasn't the only one. Seaver was the most openly surprised, blue eyes wide as she let the newly digested information sink in. Rossi had a smug look to his face as though his suspicions had finally been answered. Hotch kept his stoic appearance, but when he thought no one was looking, he would glance over to the pair. Penelope, on the other hand, was giddy with realization.
She admits, she had another set of plans ready for these two, but she was glad that she didn't have to initiate them. Penelope was happy to look over at them and know that her two most precious doves were not alone in this world, and had something to hold onto; each other.
"You okay?" Reid pondered openly, one leg crossing over the other. Derek looked at him, really looked at him, and wondered if this was the same way his father had looked at his mother everyday that they had spent together—in love.
Derek has to smile at the doctor, still young and yet so old. With mismatching socks, and messy hair. Placing a hand on the other mans ankle, he nods, "Yeah, just thinking."