So Near Yet So Far Part 2

Disclaimer I own nothing but the ideas

And now, as long as I can, I'm holding on with both hands
'Cause forever I believe
That there's nothing I could need but you
So if I haven't yet, I've gotta let you know

. . . . . .

Reid busied himself at his desk. He tapped his pencil nervously waiting for Garcia to call him back to her room. What if Emily didn't want to speak to him? Did she trust Garcia more than him? How safe was it to communicate with her like this? How much trouble would they be in if anyone found out? It was times like this when he wished his mind wasn't as active as it was. He wished he could forget.

The buzz of his phone was enough to have him up and out of his seat, before he had even checked it was Garcia. Grabbing the files, he made his way rapidly to her office; he looked round before entering, as if someone may figure out what they were up to.

Sitting next to Garcia he stared at the screen. He didn't know what he expected to see but it wasn't this, whatever this was, it made no sense to him.

"Sweetie, did you read the message I sent you or just arrive blindly?"

Reid turned and looked Garcia. She could see the eagerness in his eyes, which answered her question.

Putting a hand on his, she looked into his eyes. "Hotch wants to talk to us about the case."

Reid dropped his head; he had assumed it was a message from Emily. He was gutted. Pulling himself together he faced the screen ready for their link up with the team.

. . . . . .

Garcia had a long list of tasks to complete, but she halted Reid's departure.

"Is there something I can help you with?" he asked half heartedly, though the distraction might be good.

"Yes, when I pull these files up you can sit and read through them a lot quicker than me. I know you prefer things on paper, but this is my world, so my rules."

Reid nodded, shifting round to her right and getting comfortable in front of the screen she had indicated he would use. He could read it quick enough. Looking quickly at what started to come up to be honest, none of it was the sort of information that you wanted to linger on. As he started reading he understood why Garcia had wanted him to read through the records. He knew how this sort of information upset her. The team had profiled that the killer had been abused in the past herself. He had the job of reading the records of ten possible suspects that they had already. He tried focus on the information in front of him. He knew how unusual it was for the killer to be female, especially how rare it was that female killers were as violent as this, but to be honest all of these women had been through horrendous ordeals as they grew up, enough to make any of them a killer.

As he read more he became distracted by a regular beeping nose coming from one of Garcia's computers. Looking at her, she seemed oblivious to the sound as she focused on the screen to her left.

Reid tried to block it out and continue, but he couldn't.

"Garcia, is that not annoying?"

"What honey?"

"That noise!" he gave by way of an explanation.

"Uh," she finally paused and looked up. "Oh!" She pushed her glasses back up her nose as she spun round to her personal laptop.

Reid was no further forward in understanding the cause of his irritation, but if it stopped he didn't need an explanation. After a moment he became aware of Garcia hovering beside him. He glanced sideways at her, a questioning look on his face.

"You might like to see this," she placed the shocking pink laptop in front of him.

He quickly read the script in front of him. It was Emily, she had replied to Garcia and was happy to talk to him. She wanted to know if he was there now.

"You just type in what you want to say and hit return, the programme does all the rest for you. I could bore you with how it encrypts and sends your message thorough various proxies, but I assume you trust me to have done a good job. I won't let anyone find her, I made mistakes in the past but I won't let her down. I'm going to get a coffee and something to eat, so you've got space to do your thing," Garcia turned to make her way to the door. "Oh it doesn't save what has been said, once you hit return it's gone. I guess with your memory that's not a problem, but it means you can say what you like without worrying about anyone else reading it," she winked and left.

Reid felt sick. What could he say to her? He asked her what the Italian notes meant. That's why Garcia had contacted her. Professional, he needed to be professional.

'This is Reid. Can you explain the Italian notes to me? I can translate them but they don't make sense. I don't know how they relate to the information they are next to. Thanks.'

. . . . . .

Emily read the message. Her heart sunk. So blunt and to the point. She hadn't expected some mass out pouring of his feelings but a 'Hi, how are you?' would have been good. Slowly she typed back an explanation - that the notes were bits of telephone conversations she had over heard before she had gone fully undercover. Obviously her notes stopped once she was living with Doyle. Since he had escaped she had spent nights trying to match the notes to the rest of the information, hoping in vain to find a link that might explain who is helping him and what his plan was.

Reading her response made things seem a little clearer, though he wished Emily had brought this to the hospital, they could have worked on it together, and it would definitely have been easier than having to contact her each time he had a question.

'As a profiler, what sort of person is Doyle?'

Emily could barely stand the impersonal nature of his messages. She sent back a brief description and waited.

'Thank you.'

Thank you, was that all he could say? He wasn't interviewing a witness now. She steadied herself resisting the urge to add a sarcastic reply. She knew she had asked him to forget her, but didn't imagine it would be this quick.

. . . . . .

Garcia returned to see Reid reading the last of the records for the team's case.

"All OK Hon?" she asked tentatively.

He nodded and carried on reading.

"How's Em doing?" she continued.

Reid stopped and looked at her quizzically. "How should I know?"

"You just spoke to her - well messaged her - but let's not get picky."

"About Doyle," he corrected, "we talked about Doyle."

"Dr Spencer Reid," Garcia's tone made it clear she was irritated, "please tell me you talked about more than him."

Reid just shrugged.

"Reid," she snapped, "Emily needs us, she needs our support, she needs to know we are still here thinking about her, that we haven't forgotten. I thought you of all people could do that. If I had known this was how you would treat her I'd have never let you know."

"What do you know?" he snapped back, "I need Emily, I need her back. I offered to go with her, to support her through this, she turned me down. She told me to forget her. I can't. I want her back and I will do everything I can to get her back. This is how I get her back." His long index finger tapped the file in front of him. "This is what I'm good at; words, numbers, facts, figures. I take them apart and piece them back together again, hopefully finding Doyle in the process. If she had shared this with me months ago she may never have had to leave. Don't criticise me, she's the stubborn one."

Garcia stood opened mouthed; she had never heard Reid speak with such passion.

"Sorry," she finally managed.

They both sat down and carried on. Reid hoped they could soon feedback to the team, than he planned to take over the conference room and start his word play.