Author's Note: Yeah, she seems sort of Mary Sue-ish. *Sigh*, I'm going to have to fix that. Reviews, they'd be awesome! Enjoy!
"If Introversion is a disease, then can I please get a disability so I don't have to work with extroverts all the time?" ~Anonymous.
Sitting on the plane, I surveyed the world below through the breaks in the clouds. There were a lot of things playing through my mind as the playlist continued. Case files littered the table, but mine were tucked away in my bag. We were landing in an hour or so, thankfully. My nerves were a live wire and my fingers wouldn't stop shaking. Pulling out my earphones in annoyance, I wrapped the cords around the iPod and discarded it into the bag at my feet.
"Antsy?" Prentiss questioned raising her head from her novel. Everyone was so lost in books on this plane, and I was lounging around gazing out a window.
Shrugging my shoulders, I shook my head. Was I really that noticeably agitated? "I'm fine, too much coffee," I explained, even though I hadn't had a drop of the liquid. Reality was too daunting to heighten it with caffeine.
"If you say so," Emily suggested, abandoning the conversation. Continuing to glare out the window, I couldn't help but notice it wasn't all too interesting. A few sparse breaks in the forests, open fields, more forests, it was like reading a manual.
Last night wasn't good. Victor had ditched our date so he could watch a re-airing of MTV: Unplugged, but apparently I was supposed to care because it was Nirvana. As much as I love Nirvana, he could've recorded it. Hell, he could've watched it online any other time. Apparently though, I wasn't important enough.
What really made me irate and unable to function was his response when I told him I went out with Spencer. He was furious, yelling and screaming directly to my face. Eventually, he stormed upstairs and locked the door. I won't play innocent, because I was hollering back and fueling the fire, but this is not how I imagined 'us.'
Morgan stretched out his legs and stood in the aisle. Reaching into the overhead compartment, he readied his stuff for the landing. Absentmindedly, I played with my ring. Taking it off felt so relieving. Slipping it back on, it felt like a lie encased my knuckles.
Don't get me wrong, I love Victor. He's been there with me; he's helped me in so many ways. Victor is a beautiful person inside and out, this is just a bump. Of all things holy and sacramental, I pray that this is just a minor bump that we'll laugh about one day. If it's not 'just' a bump- I don't know what I'm going to do with myself.
Morgan shuffled through the abduction scene where I followed. Scanning the room, there were so many possibilities for ecstasy to be distributed. "We're talking part time sinners here," I poked around, checking behind the bar. The evil side of me wanted to snatch this champagne.
"What makes you think that, Carter?" Morgan questioned, probing through the bar alongside me. Picking out an ecstasy tablet, I stuffed it in a bag. Even though it wasn't evidence for the pressing topic, we still had to collect them.
Shrugging my shoulders, about to explain myself, Morgan's ringtone went off. After a few minutes of dialogue, Derek had a deep frown etched on his face. "We're meeting Reid in the lobby," he informed, standing up with the evidence bags. Discarding them to the local police, I followed Morgan out of the club area and up into the lobby where Reid was pacing.
Folding my arms, I waited patiently in the doorframe. Observing the surroundings, I saw a man, about Reid's stature and build move about in the closet area behind the desk. Hearing the snippet of the conversation with the brunette, I concurred that this person's name was Adam. Reid and Morgan continued questioning the woman and I proceeded to observe. Her body language was overly friendly, she talked with her hands—a sign that she needed to explain everything completely. Not only this, but she didn't want to incessantly repeat herself.
If she was one of the unsubs, she might give herself away if I give her time. "Excuse me, but who are you?" she whipped around, pointing to me. Snapping out of my reverie, I reached around to grab my credentials.
"Agent Carter with the BAU, I'm with Agents Reid and Morgan," I announced, trying to assert my authority in the room.
Reid crossed his arms and glared at me, "It's Dr. Reid," he stated annoyingly. Way to succeed, I thought slyly to myself.
"Well, Agent Morgan and Dr. Reid," I reiterated, placing my credentials in my back pocket. Her pupils were typical sized, so she wasn't hitting up on the E's after shift. All in all, she seemed highly unlikely on the surface to kill those men. Ted Bundy was highly unlikely as well, and look at his chaos.
Crossing her arms, I noted her agitation with my company. But nevertheless, Spencer and Derek took over the conversation. Her eyes kept darting back to me; I remained silent in the door frame, my arms crossed. For some reason she wasn't concerned with Reid or Morgan, but she sensed my authority. It was quite blatant that she was sizing up authority with me. "Have any questions for me?" she asked, smiling falsely.
"You're actions speak louder than you're words Julie," I reminded her. She raised her eyebrows at the statement. Reid and Morgan stared over to me and had looks of perplexity on their faces. Without a doubt, I began to see Julie uncensored.
"And that's supposed to mean?" she patronized, replying to my cliché quite callously. Waiting several moments longer, I refused to take that as my final answer from Julie Riley. Her eyes challenged to hold my gaze in a fierce eye contact battle, but I rejected the possibility. "People say I'm aggressive…" she trailed off trying not to make much of the sub- conscious note.
"As far as I'm concerned, your aggression is equivalent to that of a Girl Scout," I jabbed, making sure I gauged her reaction. It almost seemed like a breath of fresh air that I said that to her, similar to a compliment. Julie was a dominant female, or at least a switch with boundaries. Overall, she didn't match the profile. "Adam's on the roof, right?" I inquired. Julie nodded her head and I lead Reid and Morgan who were politely saying their goodbye to Julie. Screw that, it didn't match my style.
Leaving, we began our ascent of the winding steps. "Someone's intense," Derek jabbed at me as I took the lead in front of the two men.
"Just my style," I shrugged, trying to shake the obstinate glare I felt on the back of my neck.
I could feel that Spencer wanted to say something, but it was probably something I didn't want to hear. Climbing the next flight in a hurry, he blurted out, "Were you even listening?" Jetting farther ahead of him, I ignored the remark until I laid my foot on the last step.
"I observe people," I replied, flinging the door open discreetly. On the edge of the building was the same man I saw earlier, he was looking out into the sparkling bay. He didn't seem to acknowledge my presence, and that was a good thing. Reid emerged from the inside, which prompted me to walk slowly towards Adam.
"Adam?" I spoke softly; worried that he may jump off the ledge. Instead he slowly turned around. His eyes were wide open. Garcia had informed us that he had drug charges as a juvenile. Adam Jackson was in no way sober at the present moment. If he somehow was, he would be going through a withdrawal. Spencer paced in front of me, taking control of the situation.
Morgan inched out of the doorway and advanced to where Spencer was. They assumed the dominant positions, as they did before. Fading into the background, some things never change. Paying attention to the questions, it was exigent to gauge his reactions because there wasn't any to observe. He was almost similar to Hotch, but he surely wasn't an alpha male. In every move he made, one could see the abuse like a flashing sign.
"Um… You've seen bad stuff right?" Adam questioned Spencer, staring at him with his bulging eyes. Strangely, if Reid had darker hair, he and Adam would be brothers. It was an eerie similarity. Ultimately, if I was in regular mode, I would have felt severe pity for Adam Jackson. This was profiler mode; I didn't show sympathy at all. In ways, I was a monster. But in order to think like monsters, to counteract monsters, wouldn't it be best to facilitate a monster?
"I have. Yeah," Spencer replied, pangs of guilt played up on his features. He had been in the FBI seven years, of course he'd seen evil.
Adam wasn't helping his innocence, or maybe I thought everyone was guilty. My persona was the opposite of 'innocent until proven guilty.' "How long before you can close your eyes without it being there?" he posed. Reid paused; it was a good question, one that deserved an answer. Ignoring the body language, I awaited Spencer's answer. It was almost like Adam asked that question for me.
"I'm afraid I still don't know," Spencer responded. So much for figuring that out.
During the car ride back to the station, Derek turned off the radio. Clearing his throat, the muscular man stated, "You were awfully quiet." Reid continued to lay eyes on the bay through his passenger window.
"So?" I retorted, staring through the front windshield.
Derek sighed, this whole case I believed he was testing me. Testing all of my triggers, trying to guesstimate my growth as a person, with every question I knew he was profiling me. My performance has no correlation to my past, as harrowing as it was. Did he think the BAU would hire an insane agent; did he think I flew under the radar? "You didn't seem comfortable with asking the questions, were you listening?" he pressed, but not raising his voice in anger.
"From what I saw, I can tell you that if Julie was the Unsub, she's going to slip up. The way she talks with her hands shows a need to be understood one hundred percent of the time. Even though she has no problems with male authority figures, she had problems with me. That shows that she was either constantly put down by her mother, an adult female in her childhood, or her mother was a dormant parent. She thrives on control, and may have hints of manipulation," I broadcasted. Spencer was nodding his head in agreement from the front seat.
"What did you pick up on Adam?" Reid queried, realigning his body to proper posture in the front seat. Morgan smugly steered his way through the traffic.
Smirking, I tried to filter through all of my notes I had made to myself. "He's a nervous wreck, experiences migraines, has a history of drug abuse, and he looked like he hadn't slept in a week. Due to his low self esteem, I can concur he doesn't like his dependence. As for his drug history, he's probably experiencing a withdrawal from hyrdromorphone currently; he's been known to use hallucinogens. I wouldn't be surprised if he has used depressants and stimulants simultaneously to achieve 'high.' And without of a doubt he's tried hydrocodone," I explained. Reid cringed at the mentioning of hydromorhpone. Tension began rushing into the small space. Brushing it off, I refused to profile the team. Despite it being in nature for them, I still had shards of loyalty eclipsing my heart.
"What's the difference between hydromorphone and hydrocodone?" Morgan queried, raising his eyebrow. Despite the fact that I blew him off of his feet, he took defeat graciously. It wasn't a hindering to have a quiet observant eye to check your tracks.
Hopefully, I proved it to them, that I was an asset. Even if I didn't think I was, I still yearned for something to prove. "Hydrocodone, when speaking of the streets, is usually in pill form. The DEA classifies it as a Schedule II and III drug. These pills are a mixture of narcotics painkillers and either acetaminophen and ibuprofen. It is typically found under the brand name Vicodin," Reid informed for me. Evaluating his tracks, I realized they were right. How could I expect anything less?
Picking up on the conversation, I sorted through my knowledge of hydromorphone. "Thank you Spencer," I commented. Crossing my arms, I began my lecture, "On the other hand, hydromorphone is a more potent opioid. So potent, it can be compared to that of heroin. When compared to morphine, morphine looks like a joke," I explained, in attempts to prove my point. If it was true that Adam Jackson was hitting this up, it would be bad news. Reid cringed at each fact I put on the table. What was up with that?
"In comparison to morphine, hydromorphone six to eight times stronger. It is usually prescribed in pill form, but drug abusers prefer to snort it or inject it. This drug is sold under the brand name Dilaudid, and it's usually referred to as that," I administered. Derek's face even showed discomfort with the topic.
Nevertheless, even though his face was contorted into pain, Derek wasn't done. "If he was in withdrawal from Dilaudid, wouldn't he have the itchy feeling? Wouldn't his face be swollen?" Derek pressed. Looking in hindsight, it wasn't likely that he was in withdrawal. Anyways, why would he want to relive the trauma? Dilaudid makes you reminisce.
Then, operating with the new information that we received from the tape, I had an idea. Reaching the station, Morgan scavenged for a place to park, "What about Methadone?" I proposed.
"That's highly likely," Reid choked, trying to remain composure.