Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds and no copyright infringement is intended
A/N: I was watching Elephant's Memory the other night and this popped into my head.
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"Man that flight felt longer than four hours," Morgan said as the team dragged their bodies, and their go bags, into the bullpen, where the rest of the BAU staff was just beginning their day.
"You shouldn't be surprised Morgan," Emily replied, "after all, it is two thousand miles between Tucson and DC…"
"1954 miles actually," Reid interjected before Emily could finish her sentence. "And the average jet flies at five hundred mile per hour, so that makes it," he paused for a nanosecond before rambling on, "3.908 hours, which is 3 hours, 54 minutes and 48 seconds, so, technically, it should feel under four hours."
"Kid, do not make me come over there and slap you," Morgan responded.
"The children are fighting again pops," Rossi said to Hotch as the pair ascended the stairs to their offices.
Reid set about looking at the mail that had accumulated in his IN box during the four days they had been in Tucson looking for an anger excitation rapist attacking nuns, of all people. The case had been made more difficult by the church's intrusion into their investigation and the unwillingness of the sisters to share any details of their ordeal with the team.
A few things, advertisements for the same periodicals they sent him every month, without fail, headed straight for his empty wastebasket until he came to an envelope from the Department of Corrections in Texas. What was this he thought as he ripped open the envelope, unfolded the papers enclosed and began to read the top page? His mouth dropped open at what he was reading. His reaction was not lost on Morgan and Prentiss.
"Everything okay kid?" Morgan asked from his desk, concerned that it might be something to do with Reid's mother.
Reid didn't speak for a moment, which caused Emily to look at Morgan, "Reid," she said.
"Yeah," he choked out, folding the letter back up and replacing it in the envelope. "Everything's fine."
"It's not about your mother, is it?" Emily asked.
"No," Reid responded, "my mom's fine."
"Then why do you look so shocked?" Morgan asked.
He might as well tell them, Reid thought. They'd pester him until he did. "It's a letter from the DOC in Texas. Owen…Owen Savage is …the date has been set for his execution." He pointed to the envelope on the desk, "It says since I was," he made quotation marks with his fingers, "invaluable in the search and capture of the prisoner, I am being offered," he stopped, seemingly unable to get the words out, "a seat to witness the execution."
"Isn't that a little quick? People are usually on death row for years," Prentiss stated.
"The letter says that Owen was to be tried as an adult, but he pleaded guilty, so no trial. He was sentenced to death and after the mandatory direct review he has refused the state collateral review and the federal habeas corpus and wants it over with with the utmost expediency, and, considering prison overcrowding and the cost of each inmate every year, I guess they're not about to argue," he told them. "You know Texas, they do favor their executions."
"Will you go?" Emily asked softly.
"I don't know." He put the rest of the unread mail back in the IN box and turned to the files on his desk. "I better get to work."
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Reid tried to concentrate on the case files JJ had left for him four days earlier, but his eyes kept straying to the letter sitting on his desk. Finally he got up and headed for the break room for some coffee.
After Reid had left his desk, Morgan slipped out of his and headed for the stairs and up to Hotch's office. He knocked softly on the door. "Come in," Hotch said from within.
He didn't raise his head from the report he was writing on their last case as Morgan entered and closed the door. "Do you have a minute Hotch?"
"Sure Morgan," he pointed to the seat in front of his desk.
"Reid found a letter in his mail when we got back this morning. It's from the DOC in Texas, inviting him to be a witness at the execution of Owen Savage."
"Already," Hotch said, "and why Reid?"
"Apparently Owen pleaded guilty and refused everything after the direct review, so they saw no reason to wait. They said Reid was invaluable in the search and capture of Owen. I think it shook Reid up pretty good."
"Yes, it would," Hotch agreed. "Did he say anything about going?"
"He said he hasn't decided. I don't think it's a good idea Hotch."
Hotch's expression looked more grim than usual. "The trouble is, it's not up to us, it's up to Reid and all we can do is support him in whatever decision he makes."
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Reid collected his bag from the carousel at George Bush Intercontinental Airport in Houston and headed off to rent the car he would drive the 52 miles to Huntsville, asking himself for the hundredth time what he was doing. He had told Hotch he had done what he'd done in West Bune because he hadn't wanted to watch another kid die in front of him, yet here he was renting a car to go watch another kid die in front of him, and it had been his choice!
He didn't know what was driving him, he told himself as he headed down the highway. How could he explain it to everyone on the team when he had none of the answers himself? Owen Savage had killed eight people, he shouldn't feel the sympathy or empathy he felt, should he? Did he feel that 'there but for the grace of God go I'? His life had been like Owen's, no support at home, an outcast at school, and no friends.
He navigated his rental with the help of the map he'd bought in Houston to the police station in Huntsville. He entered and quietly told the woman at the desk who he was. Her smile turned downward when he mentioned his reason for being here and she directed him to the second door on the left.
Upon entering the room he saw some faces he knew, Britt Hallum and Bart Lawford, the sheriff and one of his deputies, who both shook his hand and introduced him to Wayne Friesen, the DA who had handled Owen's case, and Lloyd Hamner from the DOC who would brief them and guide them through the procedure. Standing apart from them were Lori Hart and Keith Fenmore from the media. Reid shook hands with them all, noticing no titles were used. The media began asking who they were and why they were there since they had all just been labeled "citizen witnesses." What connection did they have to the condemned man, they wanted to know. The LEOs from West Bune declined to answer as did he, but his thoughts went back to that day. Hotch had been pissed at him for risking his life and others' while trying to spare Owen's, and not allowing him to commit suicide by cop. And what had he spared it for, he asked himself, this? Perhaps tonight was a penance for what he'd done on that street in West Bune.
"Since we're all here, I might as well begin briefing you on what is going to be happening today." Hamner explained how they would go from here in a DOC van to a holding area at Huntsville to wait to go into the viewing room. The victims' families would be in a separate holding room and viewing area. "So before proceeding to the van, everyone will have to be frisked," he said, which did not go over well with the members of the press.
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They reached the holding area a short time later, after, once again, being searched with a metal detector. The ride had been quiet, no one seeming to wish to talk other than the reporters that everyone ignored. Reid wondered what it was like for Sheriff Hallum and Deputy Lawford; they had known Owen all his life and had worked with his father. Their arrival at the prison had been uneventful. There had been none of the picketing and shouting the team had seen when they'd gone to interview Sarah Jean and Jacob Dawes prior to their execution. What did that mean, Reid asked himself? Was Owen Savage's life any less worthy of note than Sarah Jean's or Jacob's had been?
Another man from the DOC, Mike Crest, was now speaking to them, telling them what kind of day the prisoner had had. He'd had no last visit from family as most prisoners did and he was, at this moment with his spiritual advisor. The execution was slated for 9 PM, he told them. Reid looked at the clock and the hands said 8:30 PM. How must it feel to know the moment of your death was near? He suddenly wanted to jump up and say he didn't want to be here as the clock seemed to tick like a bomb in the deafening silence of the room. But he couldn't do that. He had to see this through.
At last they were led into the viewing room that contained three rows of five chairs, each row higher than the others like bleachers, only he wasn't here to watch some sporting event, was he, he was here to watch a man he had walked through the police station in West Bune, die. Through the glass, he could see the gurney where Owen would lie and a door behind it. There was a curtain that could be pulled across but, at the moment it was open. In one corner of the room was a red wall phone, where the deputy warden stood, a direct line to the governor, if perhaps there was a last minute stay or pardon. Reid doubted that that would happen. The door at the back of the chamber opened and Reid could see Owen in his prison attire as the Warden read the warrant to him and he was led, shackled, into the chamber with four large guards in attendance.
Owen turned his head to those in the viewing room. He saw Sheriff Hallum and Deputy Lawford, the looks on their faces saying, "You're finally getting what you deserve you little creep." There were a man and a woman he didn't know and the DA. Their faces were all rather expressionless. Lastly, there was Agent Reid, who had come unarmed to face him on the street and had taken him to say goodbye to Jordan. His eyes weren't like the others; he wasn't here for spite, revenge or curiosity. His deep brown eyes held compassion and sorrow. Owen nodded his head ever so slightly in his direction before being led to take his place on the gurney.
Owen was resigned to this, Reid realized as the guards strapped him down, and always had been. It was he who had been unable to give up on a young life that reminded him in so many ways of his own. You could not escape your past; it was always with you. Owen had tried to rid his life of those who had hurt him, but it hadn't worked. It never did. The best thing you could do with the hurt that would never go away was to use it to make you stronger. Reid's eyes welled up with tears, but he fought to control them. This was not the place.
The warden approached Owen, "Any last words?"
"Tell Jordan I love her."
The warden moved back and nodded to someone on the other side of the curtain behind the gurney. The silence in the room was overwhelming as Owen's breathing increased for a short period and then slowed and continued slowing until it stopped completely. The warden looked at the clock. "Time of death, 9:06 PM," the curtain then closed around the chamber and they saw no more.
The ride back to Huntsville was not as quiet as the ride to the prison. The reporters were busy reporting on what they'd just seen while the other three men talked quietly amongst themselves. Reid sat off to the side and quietly, made a brief phone call.
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When the van pulled up in front of the police station in Huntsville, Reid said a quick goodbye to the others and headed to the parking lot for his car. He needed to get away from there. He didn't notice until he was right up to the car that a man was leaning against it, one leg crossed over the other and his arms crossed in front of him. "Warm evening," Rossi said.
"Did you draw the short straw to come and hold my hand?" Reid said as he clicked the locks open.
"We didn't draw straws, I called in sick. Here," Rossi reached to Reid's hand and grabbed the keys away from him. "Why don't you let me drive. I don't think you're in a driving frame of mind."
Reid didn't argue with him and got into the passenger seat. "I don't want to talk about it." He said.
"That's okay," Rossi turned the key in the ignition and the car purred to life, "you will."
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"You didn't have to do this Rossi," Reid said as they flew south from Houston on a small plane Rossi had chartered.
"Don't worry about it. How did you sleep?" He asked, sitting across from the young profiler.
"Didn't…maybe I will after this." He paused for a moment but Rossi said nothing. He turned his head and looked out at the clouds. " I keep wondering if this is all my fault." Still Rossi remained silent. "I mean if Owen had died a couple of years ago, maybe these people, the families, could have somehow moved on, but they couldn't; they had to wait for the day he was executed and relive that horrible time all over again because of me; because I was bound and determined to be the savior of that kid. Was it my selfishness to try to save someone who didn't want saving, just so I could feel I'd done something that caused all this?"
"Reid, you got emotionally involved in a case, you're human. Hell I got so emotionally involved I bought the house where the crime occurred. Morgan gets particularly upset when children are abused. JJ was bothered by those teen suicides. We all have things that trigger an emotional response in us and for you it was this case. You can't continue to beat yourself up over it because, believe me, there will be others."
"Thanks Rossi," he said as the seatbelt lights flashed, "we're here."
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He remembered the large Cape Cod home from the last time he'd been here when Eileen had gotten a hold of Jordan for them through her PDA. He slowly walked up the front walk, onto the porch, and knocked softly on the door. From the car Rossi could see a middle aged woman answer. Reid spoke to her briefly and she left, only to be replaced a few minutes later by Jordan Norris.
From the red eyes and sniffles, Reid could tell she'd been crying. "Hi Jordan, I don't know if you remember me, I'm Spencer Reid."
"I remember you," she said.
"Do you think we could talk for a moment," he pointed to the wrought iron bench with wood slats on the seat and back that sat on the porch.
"Okay," Jordan joined him and sat down.
"I was there last night when Owen passed away," he said softly, seeing the young woman's eyes fill with tears. "Before…" Reid cleared his throat. "Before he died he said to tell Jordan I love her."
Rossi couldn't hear what Reid said but he saw the girl collapse into tears and Reid awkwardly put his arm around her.
"Owen wanted to give you so many things Jordan and take away the pain of the past. That's not always possible and even though he's not here, you still have the love he gave you, you'll always have it deep within your heart, and you still have what he wanted most to give you." The young woman looked up at him with confusion in her eyes. Reid reached out and softly fingered the necklace he had put in her hands two years ago, "Hope."