Merry Christmas everyone! I'm sorry this update is so late. It was a crazy day. I hope everyone enjoyed their families and got just what they wanted. Thank you to all of you who took the time to read this and add it to your story alerts. You own my heart.
Chapter 2
This Drama Sat Shotgun
After dropping off the unsub at the police station, the unusual suspects made their way to Melinda's. She was just on the outskirts of town, the only building considered in town limits that wasn't attached to another and had its own parking lot. Her home was of the unusual kind, but it fit her life because nothing was usual about it. She led the team to her place, stopping at what looked like a roadside local dive bar. That's probably because that's what it pretty much was.
"I thought you said all the bars in town were closed." Morgan was barely in the mood for games at this time of the night, especially after what they had gone through today. One of the people he cared most about had been previously assumed for dead in his mind, and after seeing this was their only option with the hospital so far away, he was ready to skip all casualties.
"Not if you're the owner." Melinda played with her key in the lock, cursing it for sticking under her breath. She finally pulled the door ajar. "Come on in. It's the hottest country western bar in town, just not on Christmas."
"I didn't see another country western bar in town, and I have an eidetic memory, so I'd remember." Melinda chuckled to herself as she began turning on the lights. She was good at reading people and she had him pegged for an unintentional know it all.
"Shush. You're ruining the moment." As the door shut behind Morgan, the last agent in, and the place was illuminated, she turned to face everyone for the first time in pure light. "I don't believe we've all been properly introduced. I'm Melinda. Just Melinda."
"This is SSA Morgan, SSA Prentiss, SSA Rossi, and the one you saved is Dr. Reid." Agent Hotchner introduced the team, which was fitting considering he was the only one she was properly introduced to.
"You can call me Spencer." He held his hand up in a half wave, almost as if he were looking for attention from the teacher to talk. He made no effort to come toward her or shake her hand, but she chalked it up to his mild frostbite.
"And what does everyone else call you?" She noted the look of confusion on his face, so she began to clarify. "Normally, when someone says 'you can call me,' it implies that's not what people usually call them."
"Reid." She nodded, almost extending her hand by instinct, but quickly catching herself.
"Nice to officially meet you, Dr. Spencer Reid." Seeing as the situation was awkward, no one knowing what to do or say after they day they had, Emily sensed this with her womanly instincts and stepped forward, extending her hand to Melinda.
"You can call me Emily." Upon shaking hands, the older male agent stepped forward, placing his hand on her shoulder like a fatherly figure would do.
"And you can call me Dave. Just Dave." His last sentence was eerily similar to how she had introduced herself, but somehow it made her like Just Dave.
"And how about you, Agent Morgan. What can I call you?" He stood there behind everyone else, still looking as stern and unamused as he had throughout this entire ordeal. Somehow, she thought this was Hotch's territory.
"Agent Morgan." There was no tone when he spoke, just pure deadpan. She knew it was because he wanted to be at a hospital; he was only trying to protect his friend, and he didn't trust her. She didn't blame him, but she was just trying to help.
"Ouch. You've killed me with your bitterness. Now my cat is homeless." Deep down, Melinda was one of the sweetest girls you'd ever want to meet, but when met with resistance she had a habit of becoming sarcastic, in an attempt to put her guard up.
"You'll have to excuse him. It's been a long day, and if it hadn't been for you, we would be dealing with a murder, instead of arresting the murderer." Hotch stepped in, diffusing the situation and verbally reprimanding Morgan without actually doing so, in one go. He was out of line. "You can call me Aaron, by the way."
"It's okay, Aaron, I don't have a cat. And Agent Morgan it is." Melinda walked over to the bar, avoiding the Christmas tree and the splash of decorations that made it seem as if the season had thrown up all over the place, which is just the way she liked it. "Now that we've been properly introduced, make yourselves at home. The thermostat is over on the wall to the right. Feel free to set it at whatever you want. There's glasses under the counter. The right tap is soda and tea, the left is beer. There's a coffee pot on the back counter over there, and there's other alcoholic beverages in the refrigerator in the back. The fridge is also filled with food, so feel free to help yourselves to whatever you want. The ovens are just basic grade ovens, so they're self explanatory. I'm going to take Spencer here and get him tended to. If you want to come with me, Spencer..."
Melinda pointed as she talked, making sure everyone had a map and the lay of the land. Once she was sure she had explained herself well enough, she placed her arm gently on Reid's shoulder. It was her way of asking him to trust her. He was still shaking, freezing.
"Where are you taking him to?" The still skeptical and worried Morgan piped in. It was so predictable that even Hotch was giving him "the look."
"There's an apartment attached to the back of the establishment, through the office. That's where I live. You're welcome to come if you would like. I'm just going to take him back there and thaw him out and see if he melts." She was testing him, seeing what he would do. He started to get out of his chair, but Hotch asserted himself in a way that would otherwise seem non-existent, only they were profilers. One look or one little movement told an entire story.
"It's okay. I think I'll just get a drink, if that's all right with you." He still rose from his chair, possibly as to not make it look as if he was just scolded by his boss. That was part of it, but he was also trying to get closer to Melinda to get a better feel for her, and she knew that.
"Like I said, help yourselves. It's on the house." She looked at Morgan during the last sentence, hoping he would drop at least some of his suspicions. She was sincere, but she new he wouldn't care about that until he was sure his friend was safe.
"So you really own this place?" Morgan walked around the counter, grabbing a glass and going for the state of the art beer tap, but not before questioning her once more. "How does a girl who claims she came from the streets end up with a bar?"
"This place saved my life. No one would give some homeless girl off the streets a job, but then Jolene, the original owner here, did. She believed in me. I worked and she let me live in the apartment out back, and I got all the free food I wanted. Like I told Aaron, I'm a grifter, but I don't grift for money. And she was different. She didn't do this because she wanted to look good by helping some homeless kid. She did it because she cared and we were friends. When she died a couple of months ago I found out she left everything she had to me. She saved my life by doing so, and made sure I would be okay in life after her death. I know it doesn't look like it, but this place pulls a six figure income." She gave more information than she had to, just like she had done earlier when talking to Hotch back at the crime scene. In her experience, the more personal things you said, the more someone tended to believe your sincerity. She didn't know why, and she didn't care, because her life was an open book. She had no one to hide from, and no one who cared enough about her to use what she told them to hurt her.
"You barely look old enough to be serving alcoholic drinks." Hotch observed Melinda; he couldn't stop. Part of his heart broke for her, although he'd never show it, while the other wondered how she got to be so strong. He was sold on her being exactly what she said she was, but just as he wanted to figure out why a serial killer killed, he wanted to figure out why she was tough against the world, but okay with what she had been through.
"Don't worry, Mr. FBI Man, I'm 23. I started here at sixteen, but I promise I didn't serve alcoholic drinks until I was twenty one, just food and the non alcoholic stuff. Jolene did things up right." For her own sake, Melinda just felt better referring to Hotch as Mr. FBI Man. If she did that, there was no way she could get attached to him. For some reason, he stood out as that fatherly figure she so desperately wanted, and reminded her of the one home she had been in where the man was kind, but the wife was not.
"This seems trivial, but I'm going to have to see some ID. I'm sorry." Melinda chuckled, not offended in the least. Even if it was for legal reasons, she was glad someone cared enough to ask.
"It's fine. You're a federal agent. I get it." She paused for a moment, walking around the counter near Morgan, and then getting in the drawer and pulling out a pen and paper. "189-77-4328." She sat the paper in front of Hotch. He looked up at her, about to ask what the numbers were, when Reid interjected.
"It's her social security number." He sounded more mystified than finite that she willingly gave that out without a second thought, but she just nodded.
"I may not have a driver's license, and I may not have a last name or carry an ID, but I do have a social security number. There's a computer in the back office, just through the kitchen. You can look me up. I'll check out." She grabbed across the counter for Reid, motioning him to come around. "Now, I'm going to take Spencer here to get warmed up and treat that frostbite. If you need me, we'll be right through the back of the office. I promise I'll take good care of him. I'll even return him in better shape than I got him in."
Just as Melinda normally did, she started walking, assuming the person would just follow. Reid did, but barely. He was cold, weak, hungry, but most of all he was in pain and having trouble walking. It took Melinda until he came through the door to realize, but once he did, she took a step back, falling in line next to him.
"Are you okay? If you need to go to the hospital I'll find a way to get you there. If not, put your arm around me and I'll help you to the back." She gave him time to make up his mind, and his arm fell around her shoulder. She was strong enough to bear the weight he was giving her. It took a little struggling, but they made it into her apartment.
"I know the place is small, and I'm sorry that's it's not cleaned up, but you can make yourself at home wherever." She lifted his arm from her, allowing him to make his own decision about what he wanted to do. She didn't know how badly he was hurting, or if he was okay to sit down or would rather not risk trying to get back up. He took a seat on her couch. She kneeled down in front of him, inspecting his frostbite more closely now. "I'm going to need to get a good look at your frostbite in order to know what I'm treating. What hurts the worst?"
"My hands, feet and earlobes. Other than that, I'm actually okay. I think it's because I was being kept under those intertwining trees. It's incomprehensibly warm under there, just not for your hands and feet." Before inspecting his frostbite, Melinda got up and pulled the afghan off her chair, throwing it over Reid's shoulders. Then, she cranked the separate apartment thermostat up to eighty just to try and warm him up.
"Tell me about it. That's my secret place to go and think. I know it's none of my business, but how are you doing with everything that's happened? I feel like no one's paid much attention to you in light of the spectacle I made. I'm sorry for that." While she spoke, she worked to take a good look at his frostbite, going over his hands and earlobes first.
"Don't be sorry. I'm doing surprisingly well. This isn't the first time I've been kidnapped." Melinda didn't stop looking up in her shock. She knew he needed attention, and because of her, he wasn't getting it. Everyone was so wrapped up in what she did, which was probably why Morgan was so cold to her.
"No kidding. So this happens a lot to FBI agents?" Feeling confident about her diagnosis on his hands and earlobes, she bent down further, taking off his shoes for him to get a look at his feet.
"No, just to me." She didn't even know what to say to that, but she now knew what kind of frostbite she was dealing with.
"Well, the good news is that your frostbite looks superficial. It's easily treatable with soaking it in warm water, then I'll put aloe vera on it and wrap up the worst parts. As long as you keep those places warm, you won't need to go to the hospital." He was very lucky. Even being under that tree, things could have been a lot worse for him. Someone was watching over him this holiday season.
"You said you learned all of this on the street?" Melinda nodded.
"It's cold out there. You make due." Just like everything else, she shrugged it off, not wanting to talk about how she knew what she knew, or be treated like some hero. She just wanted to get him fixed up, fed, and on his way again as good as new.
"But how did you get aloe vera on the streets?" Questions like this were common when people found out about Melinda's past. They were especially common when people realized she knew a little bit about a lot of things, and wasn't undereducated, nor dumb.
"The only way we knew how. Spencer, I wasn't a thief unless I had to be, and I only had to be if it was life or death. That's why I grifted. Like I said before, I didn't take money. I grifted for food and shelter only. I know that probably doesn't seem much like grifting to you, but I only got those things by being dishonest with people, and on the streets food and shelter were as good as cash."No matter how many times she tried to explain it, she still felt like she was convincing herself of it. She knew that she hadn't harmed anyone, or conned anyone out of anything they didn't have, but she still felt bad doing it in the first place.
"Can I ask you another question?" She smirked. If there was two things she learned about the FBI tonight, it was that one team member always had the misfortune of getting kidnapped more than once, usually the scrawny one that looked more like a teacher than a threat, and that they liked to ask a lot of personal questions.
"Your whole team can better than anyone I know. Keep talking, though. I'm going to go and get you some clothes." Melinda turned to walk to her room, which was only a few paces to the door. She knew it wouldn't interrupt their conversation.
"Sorry. Maybe I should have said 'may I ask you a question?" She was so close to the living room in the little apartment that, not only did neither of them have to raise their voice to talk, but she thought a nod would suffice as an answer. It took her a moment to realize that, although in most houses she would only be across the room, in this one there was a wall there.
"My answer to that is the same." She sorted through her drawers, but didn't get an answer. He obviously didn't share her sense of humor and sarcasm, so she gave him the green light. "Go ahead."
"If this place pulls in six figures, why are you living here. No offense, but I've seen storage sheds that are bigger. Didn't you say that Jolene left everything to you? There's no way she could have lived here, too." Finding what she was looking for, she came back out from the bedroom, now with questions of her own. She normally never bothered to ask questions, because that indicated she cared enough about someone to want to get to know them; someone who would leave, but this wasn't a question about him, it was a question for her.
"That's two questions, but I guess I'll answer them with another question. I'm not big on them, but I think fair is fair. That man I tackled, was he the one killing people around here?" Her voice went from tough, street chic girl, to small and quiet. Her eyes changed, tearing up a little bit, a hint of desperation in her movements and behavior.
"Yes. He's the reason we're here." She handed him his clothes, feeling like the wind had been knocked out of her and they suddenly weighed a ton of bricks.
"It's about time the Sheriff swallowed his pride and called someone. That man...no, a man wouldn't do that. That monster killed Jolene. She was his first victim. When she didn't come into the bar I knew something was wrong. I went to her house and found her shot on the couch. I own that house, but I can never go back in there. She was the only friend I had, and I can't relive that." She took a seat next to him, trying to catch her breath again. She didn't like talking about this for a lot of reasons.
"Surely she's not your only friend. I know I don't know you very well, but I'm a profiler, and I do know the kind of person you have to be to selflessly charge at someone with a gun to save the life of someone you've never met. People spend their whole lives looking for someone like you, and most never find them." She couldn't imagine what it would be like to be Reid, young and naive, knowing people had his back and understanding the way life should work. She didn't even try to understand that. She knew better. Fair tales were just that, tales.
"These people here, they look at me like some money sucking gold digger. They were never keen on me to begin with, but when they found out Jolene left everything to me, the damn Sheriff started investigating me. A few weeks later a man across town was killed, a man I didn't even know. The Sheriff left me alone, but nobody else did. The only reason those people still come into this bar is because it has the best damn food in town, and because it was Jolene's. Everyone loved her, and it's just their way of honoring her memory and showing her respect in death. So yeah, she was it." Her eyes faded out and away from Reid. How did her night turn out like this? How did his turn out this way? What does it take for two star crossed paths to cross like this, and on Christmas yet?
"I'm sorry you went through that. What's important is the guy is in jail, and it's because of you. Jolene would be proud." She could hear Jolene's voice in her head now, which warranted an unsuspected laugh.
"Nah, she'd just tell me it was about damn time I jumped a guy." Reid looked at her in disbelief, not sure how to respond. "No, I'm serious, that's what she would have told me. And you need to stop being so dramatic about this whole me saving your life and capturing the bad guy thing."
It wasn't that Melinda didn't know what she did. She just didn't want to develop feelings of grandeur, because once she did, she knew she'd be knocked further down than she had been before. She didn't think there was anything past rock bottom, or a big deal within what she had done.
"I don't think I'm being dramatic, but it worries me that you do. It's not healthy to not realize your own accomplishments. You know, I have a degree in psychology, so I would know that you probably just need to talk to a professional about this. Normally I wouldn't say this, but given your past I think it's important that you realize you're not that girl on the streets anymore and you're capable of more than that, or you could actually end up causing yourself emotional catastrophe. There's a lot to be said for someone who doesn't have enough self worth to accept something good they've done, but they are first to jump to heavily explain the bad." Out of all the people she had met on the street, she hadn't met anyone who actually wanted to help her emotionally. He was either extremely nice, or there was something seriously wrong with him.
"All this because pure dumb luck saved your life tonight? Shouldn't this be the other way around? I'm fine, really. Talking to someone is not what I need. I just need time." This threw Reid off. He thought he was doing a good thing by offering to be her sounding board. As broken as she seemed, though, she said that to him like she had it all together and all figured out. He was starting to rethink his profile on her already. For now, she was unclassified.
"Time for what? What's time going to do?" Time did nothing but exist on its own. It didn't interfere with life, nor did it have the ability to interact. His genius mind couldn't wrap itself around how time, and inanimate, universally neutral thing, could help.
"Time is going to let me grow and heal from my past. The further away from it, the longer I live in this life, the more I'll figure it out." Melinda believed in karma and the spiritual aspects of life, whereas Reid saw what was right in front of him. She never had anything but misery in front of her, so she had to find something to believe in.
"The human mind is an amazing thing. It can bounce back from almost anything, but it's also wired to respond better to companionship than being alone. Since you say you don't have anyone, I think talking to someone would be highly beneficial for you." He had this want to help her. Besides, she had saved his life. The least she could do was listen, and she could let him try to help. He was afraid she was destructing herself, but she was no longer worried. She knew the days ahead would be hard, but she finally felt stable, like if she was careful and smart about her money, she'd never find herself wanting for food and shelter again. All she needed were the essentials.
"Thanks, but I never put my faith in anybody. I've learned from experience that all it gets you is broken and alone." Sometimes she couldn't even put faith in herself. Reid couldn't imagine this. He put his faith in his mom, even though she was schizophrenic, and in himself to take care of her. And now that he was grown, he put it in his team.
"But you are alone." She shook her head, smiling. She didn't expect anyone else to get it.
"No, I have my faith." Reid fell silent and she could see him working out what she said in his head, but coming up blank. If she had faith in anything, even if it was just a far away dream, she saw it as being better than keeping faith in a person. People always let you do, but dreams can come true. She knew she couldn't explain that to him, though, so she shifted the conversation. "Anyway, you better get changed. The bathroom is through the door to the left. You should be okay to change, it just may hurt a little with the frostbite. Just try not to rub the frostbite, it will make it worse. I'm going to go out and start warming up the water. Just come out when you're ready."
The caring and sharing was becoming too much for her, and it certainly wasn't helping Reid, who may have actually been warm now that the heat was cranked up as high as it was. His team had to be wondering where he was by now, and she knew he was hungry. She also knew, with three men and only one woman in a kitchen, hers was probably a mighty mess by now. So she left her apartment and made her way back to the kitchen, intent on taking over and showing her true colors, leaving Reid to himself to do what no one expected; break down.
The kidnapping had been harder on him than he let on, and he found himself heavily searching her medicine cabinet for something, anything to take away the emotional pain, but he came up empty. He felt empty, and hypocritical for telling her she needed to talk to someone when he never would. If he would have known finding out his frostbite was superficial would allow his stream of emotions to flow so heavily, he may have gone on convincing himself it was as bad as it could get. At least then he wouldn't have to hold his chin up high and pretend to be fine in a room full of profilers.
