THE BLOG

Chapter Four

A Late Night Visit

-Washington D.C. PD-

"Reid?", Hotch called for him from a short distance, "Garcia has some information on Ralph for you, she's on the phone, line 2"

Reid nodded, not looking up from the glimmering screen and reached for the phone.

"What can you tell me?", he asked the tech-queen.

"His full name is Ralph Andrew Beckett, he turned twenty-one last months, he's been treated all through his childhood in several facilities for delusional behaviour. He'd been considered healed and he's a local in D.C., and Reid, his mother died of cancer two months ago, there is no father listed anywhere"

"That could be the trigger", Spencer estimated, "Garcia, could you find where he is situated?"

"I already did, honey-pie, through his IP, it's always saved when someone posts a comment on Lou's blog"

"You read her blog?", he knew when she called her 'Lou' but he had no idea what so ever why he asked that question immediately as supposed to 'So, where does he live?' but obviously his brain still wasn't working right; he seemed to need a good nights sleep so bad, he wasn't himself any more.

"Of course I did"; Garcia answered his absolutely exiguous question, "she's a pretty awesome person, I was laughing tears at time, the poor thing, and this Ralph is a creep. 'We'll run away together and the ocean-"

"-will caress your feet as my heart will caress your entity'", Spencer completed Garcia's quoting of Ralph from memory, frowning his brow, "where does he live?"

"He lives in Arlington, 22 S. Gleebe Road", Garcia replied immediately. So he was a local, which meant he could have the possibility of spying out Lou's family and possible hide-out-spots. But he still had no link to Louise other than the weird comments, that wasn't enough to nail him down. Her blog was public, every one could have read it and maybe even used her over-the-top-admirer as some sort of disguise. Get the money and get away with it, because, with the ransom demand linked to Lou's blog, police would suspect Ralph. Nevertheless Spencer was sure about Ralph being the unsub; the things he wrote her spoke a clear language but not clear enough to pass in front of court.

"Can you cross-reference him with Louise?", he asked, desperate to find another connection and again he heard Garcia run over her keys. Seconds later he heard her catch her breath.

"He's been a senior when she came to High School here, to the same High School, he knew her"

"Weird, she didn't mention knowing him", Spencer mused when he processed the information.

"Well, there's gotta be more Ralph Becketts out there, plus who says they really knew-knew each other, don't you think the guy's more the-"

"-admiring-from-a-distance-kind, you're right, she probably won't recall who he is, they weren't in the same grade", he completed yet another sentence of hers.

"So, I need you to repeat this to the rest of the team, you're on speaker", he informed her quickly after pushing the loudspeaker-button on the phone.

-University Hospital-

Louise Hansen had not seen a worse day in all her life. And there she had always been whining around about her non-existent love life, about the unfairness of life in general, her stupid freckles or the fact she was always so ghostly pale no matter how many hours she spent in the sun. It all seemed so meaningless, so pathetic now. She's had everything. Even if she had always wished to be closer to her Dad and even more often despised the decisions he made on his job – the reason for many fights in the Hansen-household when she was still living with her family – she still knew they were well and nothing threatened them. She was just like any other girl that sometimes had quarrels with their parents. Perfectly normal. Nothing was normal any more. What would she give to have her tan as her only concern at the moment.

Also, her sometimes-grudge against her father seemed like the biggest assault she'd ever made. Every inch of her body was tense, her soul was drenched in pain and guilt, it radiated through every limb and no matter how hard she tried to make it go away, it wouldn't fade. This was all her fault. Her parents could be dead already as much as she knew and she was solely to blame for it.

No matter what the FBI-guy – Spencer – no matter what he'd said. The person that took her family and abused her poor brother like that, he'd done it because of her. Because of this stupid blog. If she hadn't felt the need to share her insignificant thoughts with the whole world everyone would be perfectly safe now. Why had she always been so eager to be recognized? And with an even more painful stroke of remembrance through her brain, she recalled how flattered she had been at first by Ralph's comments. That was of course before he had started about eloping with her and carrying her through rich flower fields. She'd known that something was off about it, surely, everyone would have known that but she didn't consider it important. She should've talked to someone about it. She of all people had a staff of security people just a phone call away but she didn't even think about it, no, because she was a stupid kid, just the stupid little girl she'd always been, always unsuspicious, always happy-go-lucky with her head in the skies. She'd never expected to have to pay such a price for that. Once again she wondered how she had deserved this, she had never hurt a creature in her life. Sure she'd made mistakes, sure she sometimes threw people off with her honesty but in general she was a considerate, caring person and she'd always hated lying and pretending and...for crying out loud...she was a good person. That was in no way justified, neither for a probably non-existent God to do that to her or for Karma striking back. She couldn't have collected so much bad Karma it would be fair to do this to her.

Michael still showed no sign of recovery, the machines kept him breathing as he remained in coma. It was highly possible that once he woke up, and he just had to wake up, the other possibility was inconsiderable for Louise, he would never be the same person again. There'd been damage to his brain, the doctors had told her. He could be disabled for the rest of his life. He could wake up a different kid. Her stomach turned at the thought, this couldn't happen. The worries about her parents and the pain of seeing her brother like this felt like a huge bundle of acid, burning every bit of her. He just had to wake up, he had to be safe and the same he'd always been. He couldn't bare it if he was turning out to be someone else. She loved him so much and she cared so much, everything hurt, everything. She wished she lay on that bed instead of him. He was such a happy guy, he'd just finally been hit with puberty and was a bit of a pain in the ass but he was funny and could be really sweet. She remembered the last time they phoned and she could still hear his exited voice from the line, telling her about how he'd been accepted to the football-team although he wasn't buff as the other guys. He was lanky, tall and skinny, like Spencer, the FBI-agent. Michael wanted to be a police-man, too. He wanted to help people.

Only know, that hot fluid ran down her face, she noticed that she had started crying again.

-Washington D.C. PD-

"What? I don't get it", Spencer was furious, "how come that isn't enough for a house search? What other evidence do you need? He could have them hidden there"

"Reid, we believe your theory, but as long as we don't get a call from him, telling us he wants that money quick, there's nothing we can do. We have no more evidence and the fact that they went to the same school and that he was reading her blog isn't enough"; Morgan said, attempting to calm him down, but it didn't work.

"This is ridiculous", he snorted and at the same time he was shocked by his own behaviour, it wasn't like him to get that wound up, "I promised their nineteen-year old daughter we would safe them"

And that was the point.

"Reid", Hotch raised his voice ever so slightly but Spencer could sense the rebuke coming crystal-clearly, "let it go. We have to wait for the call"

Spencer couldn't believe his ears, for the first time in years he disagreed with his supervisory agent, sitting and waiting around was wrong. How didn't they see it?

"Fine", he hissed, took his jacket and stormed of. He didn't care if he was startling all his team or that he wasn't acting much like himself. If they could be so hideously unreasonable, so could he. And all the time he saw Louise crying in front of his inner eye. And once again he asked himself if he'd went crazy or everybody else. Or was is because he was just too-freaking involved in this case?

He should know better than this, he thought when the cold night air hit his face and the smell of rain captured his senses for a while. It had gotten dark outside and the TV-teams had trailed off so he could make his way through the streets unmolested.

He had no idea where he was going. His sense of duty told him to hurry back to the team and stick to the orders but his anger over their decisions and some other indicator he couldn't quiet locate were pushing him on and he walked. It would start to rain soon but it didn't matter. So he'd get wet, whatever. His knee wasn't hurting now, his system was too preoccupied with everything else to notice pain if there was any. This was still so unlike him. He could virtually see JJ's worried look and Hotch's disapproving featured when he left them. Reflexively he reached for his jacket-pocket and switched off his phone, he didn't want to deal with JJ now and he knew, it was only a matter of time until she would call him.

When the first drops of rain fell down, he still wasn't bothered much, but what started with some light drops, soon turned out to be a downright cloudburst and all too soon; Spencer was soaking wet and just looking for shelter from the rain. How he could always count on his Job-esque bad luck.

With hurried steps he finally found a subway station entrance and went down. Inside it was moderately busy with many people attempting to stay dry just like him, just waiting around for the weather to get less hostile. He was too agitated to just stand there like them, he wandered around, reading every sign or add that passed his eyes. And there it was. The until now unknown force that had made him walk on.

'Line 8, last stop: The University Hospital'

This was mental, even for him, he thought but somehow his protesting head didn't stop the rest of his body to take the escalator down to the platform and getting on the next train.

What would he even say to her? He had no good news, he had no questions, he had no purpose what so ever to be there. It was just crazy but he couldn't get off the train and when he finally did it was because he'd reached his destination. His feet dragging him forward mercilessly, he found his way to the hospital and took the elevator up. It was still the same nurse that stood behind the reception desk.

"Visiting time is over, Agent Reid", she said and he was surprised she remembered his name but then again, having the FBI visiting was memorable.

"I know", he said quietly, "but it's really important that I speak to Miss Hansen again"

Okay, this wasn't Spencer Reid talking any more, some strange person had taken control, someone so attached to that poor girls fate, he wouldn't rest until she was happy again. This must have been the wackiest case in transference-feelings there'd ever been and he could do absolutely nothing to help it. It was like this young woman was a magnet, pulling him closer to her, he couldn't escape. This was so wrong, he thought again and was scared, to his own surprise. This wasn't normal, not to this extent and not if you considered that he'd only seen her once, only talked to her for about five minutes and the undeniable fact that she was so young.

But then again she was not, in a way.

I don't see what is wrong with having values. Sure, I say I'd like to have relationship again, but why would I, attempting that, walk around the city and throw myself on top of every guy I see. I know it sounds ridiculously outworn and prude, but I'm not that kind of girl. Not that I don't see how some women find it appealing to get it on with someone they barely know and if they're fine with it, they shalt go ahead and be merry. But I consider it a matter of dignity not to be objectified for a wild night of pleasure or to objectify the guys on your part. That's not my perception of love or love-making. And I know some of you will disagree with me on that, but I think, and this has nothing to do with religious believes or some other sort of spiritual reason but simply because it's plain logic to me, I think that sex should happen between two people that sincerely care about each other. That are right for each other. Otherwise it's just the rubbing of two bodies against each other, a chain of dull chemical reactions and it means nothing in the air. And I'm screaming from experience, I've been there, I've done that and waking up the next morning, I felt the most disgusting in my life. Not because the sex was so bad but because I had given someone so important away to someone that didn't care a thing about me and that I didn't give a damn about. That's just not what I want.

Spencer recalled one of her entries perfectly. She wasn't so young. Her body might was but she was not a child any more. Not because her principles were overly mature but because she was so settled in them. She had made her mind up on her own and didn't just repeat something she'd heard her girlfriends say. No, clearly Louise Hansen wasn't a little girl any more, he thought when his fingers touched the doorknob to Michaels room.

Louise jumped up at the noise from the door. She'd dozed off a while ago, not able to resist the lack of sleep and the exhaustion but now she was wide awake when she saw who her late visitor was.

"Spencer", she said and her voice was crackly from sleeping, "has anything happened? Did he call?"

She couldn't make out his facial expression because the room was so poorly lit by one small lamp near the visitors couch, she had fallen asleep on, it was impossible to see what he was going to tell her. She was prepared to leave Michael with the doctors, if she was needed to help, if they'd let her, she'd haunt that unholy bastard down herself and make him see the stars he wanted to steal her from the skies. She would just take her jacket and go wherever Spencer told him to go. She was quiet happy that he had come and not his colleague who was intimidating, plus Spencer had really seemed to care about her when she broke down before.

But then Spencer answered her questions and her hope and actionism fell apart.

"I wish I could tell you any news but...there's no news, I'm sorry"

So no call. No answers. How long would she have to wait around and watch her brother lie there half-dead before something would happen? And-

"What are you doing here then?", she really didn't mean to sound so edgy but she was frustrated and scared and tired.

"I..um...", he was stuttering again, that was quiet a habit, "I just wanted to make sure you're alright"

That was surprising her, as far as she knew it wasn't his job to see if she was fine. His job was to safe her parents but if he was here instead, this couldn't look so promising. Her world became a shade darker again.

"I'm not", she said truthfully and felt sorry for giving him the hard time, after all he only meant well.

She turned around to check on her brother again. His state hadn't changed one bit and she felt tears fighting their way to the surface again.

"How is he?", Spencer asked and walked into the room, closing the door behind him. He walked towards her but kept a distance.

"Just the same, he won't wake up", she answered directing her attention at her brother again, "Komm schon, Kleiner, lass mich nicht im Stich. Bitte wach auf"

She talked to him in German because it would be ridiculous not to. They hardly ever spoke English with each other although there were both fluent having lived there for nearly four years, mostly because their mother pondered on keeping the language alive in their home. Her Mom missed Germany and speaking the language made her home-sickness go away at least a bit.

"I told him-", she started because she considered it rude to speak a language someone present didn't understand, but he was faster.

"-to wake up, to not leave you here alone". Spencer said quietly, "I know a bit of German and a couple of other languages"

"You're some kind of genius?", she asked because she didn't know what else to comment on that and she really wanted to keep the conversation going, happy about any company and distraction she was offered.

"Some people think me one", he said as if it was just a normal thing and not something to be smug about, "I have an eidetic memory and I can read 20.000 words per minute, I have three degrees in Maths, Chemistry and Engineering and a BA in Psychology and Sociology"

Everyone else would have sounded like a show-off but he made it sound as if it was no bit special.

"How old are you?", for a split second curiosity took hold of her. She's always been curious but somehow everything she'd once been slid through her fingers once she got that phone call, reporting her parents missing.

"I'm twenty-seven", he answered and she just had to get a closer look at him.

"You don't look twenty-seven", she announced when she stood opposite him, "You look twenty-three"

"Thanks", he pursed his lips.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to...", she had no idea what she hadn't meant to, "well, think of the good side, when you're forty and look like mid thirties, you'll be glad"

"I just wouldn't have thought you were nearly ten years older than me, although I did wonder what you were doing with the FBI", she added.

She noticed his mouth twitch for whatever reason when she talked about their age difference and she wondered why. Also she wondered how she could be that much of a horrible person, in her situation, under these circumstances, finding him cute. She hated herself even more now but she couldn't help adoring his sculpted high cheeks and the perfect jaw line and the cutest nose she'd ever seen. His eyes had dark shadows underneath and some extra pounds surely couldn't do harm on him but he was still one of the most attractive men she'd seen in her life, despite the fact he looked a bit like a living dead. But she did, too with her dead girl's paleness.

You're the devil, she thought in disgust, How could she even think about that now? How could she imagine his exquisite lips on hers? Her parents were held hostage by a madman and she was to blame for it, her brother would maybe wake up a crippled vegetable and she thought about kissing a guy she barely knew that was, on top of it all almost ten years older than her.

"What's wrong?", Spencer asked her softly as he probably noticed her features wobbling from her inner tirade.

"Nothing", she lied, "I'm pretty messed up" This was the absolute truth.

They stood there in silence for a moment and just stared at each other, both clueless what to do or say, when a nurse ended their private awkward moment by entering the room.

"Agent Reid?", she said with her raspy cigarette voice, "I have an Agent Morgan on the phone, he says I should tell you that they got the call, he said, you'd know what it is"

Louise's and Spencer's heads snapped up simultaneously.

"Tell him I'm on my way", he said to the nurse who left, rolling her eyes, obviously annoyed by the out-of-order-visit. She should go screw herself, Louise thought spiteful, this was important.

She looked back to Spencer, wondering why he wasn't on his heels already, looking for her parents., to be fair, he was showing signs of an attempted exit, but something held him back.

"When the time comes, will you help me on this?", he asked. She had no idea what he was talking about but anyway-

"Yes", she replied.

"It's going to be alright", he said and then, ever so lightly, his skin as soft as silk, his perfect man's hand squeezed hers.

You're a horrible person, Louise's inner voice yelled with rage as her heart tripped at the touch and then Spencer left her alone with the buzzing machines and her comatose brother. She couldn't blame her.