Alone Ch. 7: "Pieces"
Hey, remember when I was all like "I'ma upload everyday"? Yeah, lol that was a funny joke. Honestly though, sorry about the delayed and sporadic uploads- I'll try to be more on top of it. I'm not abandoning this, I promise. - Cassidy
Hotch and Rossi were seated in the conference room when Spencer returned.
"How was Clara Wolf?" the young agent asked. Rossi responded,
"Well, she couldn't give us much information since she never attended any of John's meetings herself—"
"Yeah, I figured that would be the case, I asked how she was, not what she gave you," Reid interrupted. He was concerned for the newly widowed woman and was bothered by the older agent's lack of empathy— despite their job typically being benefitted by a certain level of objectivity. Hotch and Rossi both raised their eyebrows at the genius's uncharacteristically crude tongue, and though Rossi wanted to fire back with an equally biting retort, he decided he would respond better to gentler approach, given the circumstances, though he didn't sugar-coat,
"You're right, I apologize. She was expectedly devastated. She was still in shock, quite frankly I've amazed she got herself here given the state she was in". Reid knew Clara. He had been to John and Clara's home on several occasions— both for celebratory and consolatory reasons— and she had always been extremely gracious and accommodating towards him. Hotch decided to change the subject, seeing the worry on his agent's face,
"What did you find out at the church?" Focusing on the task at hand is what Reid needed to keep himself above water.
"Uh, I talked to the guy who's taking over for John and I got a few names for Garcia to cross-check with our current list of officers, fire fighters, and EMTs" Just then Hotch's phone rang. It was JJ calling to confirm that it looked to be the same MO used as the six previous murders. Hotch informed her of Reid's findings and JJ said she and Morgan would grab food and coffee for everyone since it would be another long night at the office.
The unit chief hung up and instructed the other two agents in the room,
"Alright, Morgan and JJ will be back in about an hour; I'm going to take your list of names to Garcia and schedule interviews with whatever matches we get. I'll have you two finish the geographical profile— we still haven't plotted John's house or the church sites" and with that he left Reid and Rossi to themselves.
In spite of their minor miscommunication, Reid was relieved to be working with Rossi— it was the second best thing to being alone. Rossi didn't normally pry, however, what Reid had anticipated to be a break from intrusive questioning was anything but. Because Rossi wasn't around during the Hankel case— he knew the gist but not the particulars— and because of the team's vow to not speak of it, he was left to put the pieces together himself, and what Rossi had put together over the years was something quite sensitive and rather deserving of an explanation. He eased into his inquiries,
"You're handling this remarkably well, you know?" Reid turned to face the older man, "correct me if I've gathered incorrectly, but John basically replaced Gideon as a sort of father-figure to you after he left, didn't he?" Reid returned his attention to pining crime scene photos onto the cork board in front of him, not wanting to respond at all to the borderline inappropriate question. Rossi wasn't trying to provoke or upset his colleague, he was simply trying to get him to open up and release some of the hazardous pent up emotion that he could see was weighing heavily on the young man, and if that required him to be intrusive and inconsiderately blunt then so be it. Acknowledging that the senior agent wouldn't let this go he sighed a reply,
"He helped me through some rough times." Rossi frowned at Reid's unwillingness to actually share what was going on in his head. Some times passed without another word spoken. Reid stepped back from the board and sat down in his chair at the round table. Rossi noticed Reid's knee bouncing up and down and that he was wringing his hands in an attempt to deter their involuntary trembling. The older man tried again to get the younger to talk,
"You know, it's okay to break down, it'd actually be healthier to let yourself properly grieve instead of keeping it all inside. You don't have to put on this brave face." Reid's expression was stoic, almost that of what you'd expect on their unit chief,
"Yes I do. My relationship to John is a conflict of interest so the only thing keeping me on this case is the fact that that relationship is protected by the anonymity of the program. I can't break down or else I'd risk Cruz or other higher ups finding out and then what?" Reid was getting a little worked up. He took a deep breath, looking down at his shoes, he continued quietly "if I lost this job, if I lost you guys, I honestly don't know what I would do…" he paused and let out a sad, breathy laugh, "…probably something really stupid." Rossi couldn't find words to respond to that. Reid's misty eyes met those of his colleague and then the door opened. Hotch and Garcia strolled in unaware of the scene they'd just interrupted. Rossi cleared his throat and Reid feigned rubbing something out of his eye while Garcia's jovial voice brought the two up to speed,
"Hello, mon amis, so here's what we've got," she handed them files on the three hits they received, "Peter Reynolds, Peter Savic, and Logan Tate…" she had a presentation ready to go with their pictures and information, "…Reynolds is a forty-one year old fire fighter, he had a couple charges of disorderly conduct back in 2011 as a result of his alcoholism. Savic and Tate are both EMTs; Savic, now thirty-four, had two charges of drug possession when he was twenty years old, then another one about a year ago. And then Tate is twenty-six. He was recently fired for skimming oxycodone from the pharmacy of the hospital that he reported to and they're currently pressing charges." Hotch was carefully evaluating the odd behavior of the two men in the room; Reid wasn't looking at anyone and was shifting uncomfortably in his seat while Rossi, who was usually the most relaxed of all of them, sat with his hands folded tightly on top of the table, also making frequent glances to the team's youngest. He made a mental note to investigate the cause of this as JJ and Morgan entered the room, setting styrofoam containers and cups down on the table.
The team took a break to eat and the get everyone on the same page. Rossi had reverted to his typical wise-cracking self and was carrying the conversation along with Morgan and Garcia while Hotch stayed focused on Reid who was fidgeting silently, just wanting it to be tomorrow so they could get on with the interviews and get somewhere with his case. JJ was also trained on the genius, intending on being the shoulder he could lean on after this case was over.
After a few more hours of organizing interviews and contacting the employers and landlords of their suspects they were all set for an early start the next day so Hotch sent everyone home. Reid's fidgeting had gotten worse. As their case went on the young agent was finding it more and more difficult to resist the urge to succumb to the pure bliss and euphoria his former vice would provide. On his way home Reid thought to himself, I just need a little something to relax; a small hit to get through this nightmare and then that's it. Reid ran his hand through his hair— something he'd been doing a lot these past couple days— then gripping onto his locks out of stress and frustration, No, no, no, what am I thinking?! What I need is to get home. Get home, go to sleep, a year from now this'll just be a bad memory, don't make it worse. What would John think?
He arrived at his apartment, his shaking hands making it difficult to get the key into the door to enter his place. He placed his bag and coat on the couch and began pacing around his living room, trying to calm himself down. He was beginning to feel desperate. He really didn't want to be alone right now, he didn't trust himself but who could he call. Reid would've normally called John is instances like this, but that thought only caused the genius to become even more on edge. He couldn't reach out to his teammates whom he'd assured several times that he could handle this case— which it was quickly becoming very apparent that he could not. He could call Matt. Reid and Matt weren't super close but he did say that he would be here for him, and what did the young agent have to lose— other than his sobriety?
Reid fumbled to get his phone out of his pocket and quickly dial Matt's number knowing that if took any time at all doing so he might change his mind. The phone rang a first time. Reid backed up until he hit a wall. The phone rang a second time. He started to slide down the wall into a seated position on the floor, wrapping his free arm around his knees, for he feared if he didn't restrain himself he would bolt out the door and into some back alley. The phone rang a third time. a single tear escaped from Reid's eye and ran down his cheek. He was beginning to fracture; beginning to come apart. A voice came through the phone,
"You've reached Matt Shepherd, sorry I missed your call. Please leave your name and number and I'll get back to you as soon as I can." Reid sat there for a moment until he dropped his phone onto the hardwood. He wiped the tear trail off his face, stood up abruptly, and made his way over to the couch. Within a few seconds the man hastily shoved his arms through the sleeves of his navy coat. He turned up the collar and marched out the door and into the cold, black, night.
OOooOHhhH! Where's he going? What's he gonna do?! Sorry again for not uploading regularly. I appreciate all the reviews/follows/favorites- they really motivate me to keep writing this so thank you, thank you, thank you! - Cassidy