Title: Red Riding Hood
Author: Sara Nublas
Characters: Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, all team involved
Rating: T
Warning: violence and creepy scenes
Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds, its characters or the tale of Little Red Riding Hood
A/N: Many people to thank for this story: withouttracelover996 for the prompt, Nix1978 for patiently listening to my ideas, freddlerabbit for the beta reading
Thanks a lot for all the reviews and sorry if I didn't manage to answer to all the comments, I appreciated each of them so much! It's really a hectic period lately and even finding the time to write is getting harder and harder, so you might have to wait a bit for the next chapter... Please R&R!
Jacob looks at Sylvia with a heavy heart; he remembers how hard it was for him to come back to society. He was a grown up man with a mind of his own at that time, and he knew already the difference between the Outside and the woods; yet it was a crashing shock to come to terms with it, and to realize that not all of the Outside was rotten and wrong.
This young, stubborn woman, instead, is like a newborn child; she's been brainwashed and kept away from the truth for such a long time; all of a sudden she's forced to face a completely new reality and to make a tough choice. It doesn't matter what her final decision will be, her scars are so deep and the consequences of her actions so definitive that she will never be able to have a normal existence, ever. So many lives are lost, so many futures obliterated, that he can't help wondering if he could have done something more back in time, when Kathy asked for his help, when he realized the monster his neighbor was. Could he have stopped him back then? And, most importantly, can he help to prevent another blood shed now?
Jacob turns to Hotch, his eyes lost in despair, pleading for advice from the profiler, who gives him a nod to proceed.
Slowly, with soft, cracked voice lest he hurt her, he starts recounting: "When I first met your mother it was a hot summer day. She had those blue eyes and a smile that never failed to make me feel at home. There was always an edge of melancholy in her gaze, but every time she saw you and your brother she would light up. She used to say you two were her sunshine."
Sylvia swallows, her nostrils flaring and her windpipe paralyzed by the bewilderment. She looks at him briefly, then away, focusing on a corner of the room. The first memory that finally escapes from the box where she was forced to shove her mother, is a scent, her scent. A mixture of fresh laundry and home made cookies, of cinnamon and blueberries that always made her feel safe.
Jacob carries on, reluctantly, as he can't stand watching the pain on Sylvia's face, "One thing she always used to say and I'll never forget, was that she loved the woods, but she missed the..."
"The sea." She interrupts him, finishing the sentence, almost in abashed surprise. Her voice coming out as a muffled cry, the memory mixing up with his recount, the awareness that no one could know this detail, unless they knew her mother personally.
"She really wanted to take you there once." He promises her.
"Did you take her away from us?" her tone is suddenly loaded with grudging accusation.
"No, Sylvia. Your mother came to me because she was concerned about yours and your brother's safety. She wanted me to take you away from there."
"I don't believe you." Her mask again in place.
The profilers in the room exchange a glance of impatience and tension, on one side understanding the turmoil of dwindling feelings shaking Sylvia's beliefs, but also aware that there's no time to waste.
Sylvia stubbornly tries to refuse what Jacob is trying to explain, while a flash of her father grabbing her mother by her arm and hitting her, runs through her mind, overwhelming her temporarily.
After that it's like Pandora's box has been opened. The memory of that day comes back at her with an impressive clarity. He mother was wearing her favorite blue dress, the same color of the sea during sunny days, as she used to say, and the necklace her mother had given to her when she was twelve, a silver charm shaped like a lily. Sylvia remembers her mother hugging her and Kyle, and making them promise to keep the secret. She remembers how their father went furious when he came back; how he managed to steal the secret from Kyle, how after that they were given the news that their mother didn't want them anymore and walked away. That day she and Kyle promised to stick together and never leave each other.
Hotch interrupts her stream of thoughts, "In the house where Agent Prentiss and Officer Madison were lured into a trap, we found the body of a woman, dead a long time ago…" he says in a soft tone as he lays down on the table in front of her a series of pictures taken inside the cottage.
Sylvia stares at him in disbelief, shaking her head; she doesn't want to look down, she doesn't want to admit what she knows already, she can't accept that the man she trusted blindly for so many years would be capable of that… Then, reluctantly she stares at the pictures; the dress, the necklace, too much of a coincidence.
She remembers how her father never wanted them to go back to that house, how he explicitly ordered her and Kyle to stay out of it. Suddenly she feels so stupid for always complying with his orders. It's a wave of grief, rage, betrayal and self-loathing crushing her, and a retch of guilt clutching her stomach, when she thinks of how the despite she nurtured toward her mother for all the time, actually dirtied the memory of a woman who never stopped loving her. Hotch and the other profilers watch the different emotions morphing Sylvia's face, then her expression sobers up into a cold, unruffled mask, as she addresses the unit chief with a piecing glare, "So, what are my options here?" she asks evenly.
Derek wakes up and a wince betrays the pain that just shot through his body.
When Kyle got tired with the prod, he moved up to the kicks. Derek knows he could have reacted and shielded himself in some way, but letting the guy download all his rage on him, may have at least spared Emily some brutality.
As he tries to inhale, and coughs painfully, bracing his ribs as a result; he feels a pair of hands steadying his forehead and his shoulders. She's back, he realizes and he allows himself a small sigh of relief, immediately followed by a feeling of failure.
"You really couldn't help yourself, eh?" she asks, continuing to hold him, needing to feel his presence, needing to make sure he's not going to do something reckless, again.
"What did you expect me to do? Stand in a corner while he was taking you to do hell knows what?" he justifies while he sits up, trying to recover his normal breathing rhythm.
"Maybe if you had trusted me…" she can't help the worry turning into rage for his reckless bravery.
"Maybe if you cared to share your plans with a bit more detail…" he retorts.
Emily prepares to answer, but then her temper fades and she lets out a deep sigh.
Derek stares at her, guessing her features and her expression as his eyes get more used to the darkness. He tries to assess what he did to her and if she's hurt, but frustratingly gives up as her gaze is not giving away any emotion.
"He just took more blood from me," she quickly explains, feeling his eyes on her and trying to dodge further questions by answering in advance.
Instead there are no questions, only a long moment of silence.
"Let me check that bandage," he eventually offers, "we have to try to keep the wounds clean."
She complies, and grimaces as he moves her arm under a shard of light coming from a crack in the wood panes over their heads.
"Does it hurt?" he asks, knowing already she will lie.
"A bit."
"What happened upstairs, Emily?" he finally manages.
"I told you, he just took more blood. And we talked."
"You talked…" he skeptically repeats.
"Yes. You knew that if you turned yourself into his punching bag then he would feel guilty and go soft on me. Didn't you?" she holds his gaze.
"I told you I wasn't going to stand by..."
"He could have killed you," she reproaches.
"He could have killed you too," he reciprocates.
"I think I opened a breach," she changes subject, "he's still terrorized of his father, but he definitely doesn't trust him with Sylvia, and he doubts his mother disappeared of her own will."
"Do you think he'll help us to get out of here?" he asks.
"He's devoured by guilt. He feels like he betrayed his mother. He needs redemption…"
Derek looks at her questioningly.
"Maybe." She finally settles the answer to his question.
"Maybe is better than no," he resolves.
Suddenly the whole house has gone quiet, "I wonder what they're doing," he looks up, through the cracked floor, stripes of light drawing his profile.
Emily stares at him in silence. No matter how stubborn, complicated, messed-up and mysterious she is, he's always there for her. Ready to listen and to understand. "You asked me why I was nervous and snappy those days…"
Derek immediately returns his gaze to her, "You don't have to share, unless you want to."
Emily realizes just then that he has never let go of her arm. She lets out a small smile, because it's paradoxical that she can still appreciate these sweet details in such an extreme situation, as she never did before. Then reassured she sighs and begins her story.
Sylvia stares at Hotch silently, not a shadow of emotion on her face. While Jacob is speechless and scared at the glacial detachment this young woman was able to pull off in a matter of seconds, the profiler studies her calmly. JJ, who by now has witnessed all the possible nuances of Sylvia's demeanor, is still dumbfounded by her duplicity and can't resolve whether to see her as a ruthless killer, a victim, or both. Was she a normal suspect, JJ would probably feel compassion for her. But nothing about this case is normal; Sylvia took an active part in the ordeal that had Emily and Derek taken, and now is bargaining her friends' lives for a way out, there's no room for pity or empathy right now.
"What's going to happen to me and my brother?" Sylvia inquires adamantly.
"You will be processed, and judged for your crimes," Hotch responds evenly.
"Even my father?"
"Yes."
"And I won't see Kyle ever again?"
"Men and women are kept in different penitentiaries," Hotch confirms.
"Will I be able to write to him?" this last question offering the slight trace of an emotion.
"It's possible."
She nods pensively, then she resolves "They're in a house in the middle of nowhere. I cannot tell you how to get there, but I can walk you there…"
Hotch stares at her frank expression and ponders her words; then he offers "You will be under close guard. If you lead us into a trap, or tip your father off, or do anything that might injure my agents, I'll shoot you myself."
She nods unimpressed by his threats.
"How can we know that Morgan and Prentiss are still alive?" Reid jumps in.
"They still have 48 hours before the sacrifice takes place."
"What does that imply?" Reid continues.
"Over the past few days they took blood from her already. At the dusk of the fourth day, a ritual will be performed. They will cut their wrists and ankles and they will beat them to death. Then they will cut them into pieces and offer their parts to different Gods. The blood will be shed over an altar and prayers will be said." The clinical and detached precision with which she describes the ritual gives the creeps to the profilers, who struggle keeping their cool thinking of their friends' lives in balance.
"To be a devoted daughter, she flipped sides very fast…" JJ argues as soon as the team gathers out of the interrogation room.
"She just discovered that her father killed her mother and lied to her and her brother for all these years," the Sheriff jumps in, "I believe she's flipping sides!".
"The photo we showed her could be a fake, and Jacob could be an actor," Hotch explains, "to be a diligent soldier, her change of mind was pretty fast, but almost nothing about her behavior fits into patterns."
"So what does this mean?" the Sheriff inquires further.
"Either her and her brother were already suspecting their father's lies or she's walking us into a trap." Rossi intervenes to explain.
"Then what do we do?" Reid asks.
"We don't have much choice, we let her take us to the hut, but we keep extra-careful," the Unit Chief responds sternly.
"My grandfather used to be a lawyer. Busy life, all work, running through the big city all the time. One day he got tired of it. He retired, went to France, bought a house in the middle of nowhere and forgot about the world," Emily starts.
Derek looks at her, silently and intently.
"He's always been a lover of outdoors, so it came natural for him to get used to live into nature, get his own logs and food and to find his way into the wilderness. He'd get into town once a month and check his mail."
"How did you end up spending time with him?" He asks, and she's surprised he remembers that detail disclosed haphazardly years ago while working on a case.
"My parents were going through a difficult time and I wasn't handling well the continuous changes of location. So my mother figured out that spending the summer in a stable place, faraway from distractions wouldn't have been a bad idea…" she takes a pause, her mind spiraling in distant memories.
"What happened?" he asks patiently.
"My grandfather turned it into a boot camp. He decided that I needed to learn to rely on myself and no one else and that my character had to be fortified."
"Fortified?" Derek asks doubtfully, "How old were you?"
"Ten at the time."
Derek remains silent, waiting silently and guessing nothing cheerful is about to come.
"At the beginning I even liked it…" she starts after a moment of silence. "Camping outside, recognizing the constellations, getting the woods for the fireplace…"
"And then?"
"Then he became more and more extreme, the hikes were exhausting walks going on for days, we would spend long hours in silence, he would snap for nothing. Then one day we got to this place, a day of walking away from his hut. He sent me to get some woods for the fire and when I got back he was gone. All he had left was a backpack and a note saying to find my way back on my own or don't bother to come back at all."
"He did what?" Derek exclaims in indignation.
"I found my way back eventually. I was so terrified and helpless… I held him a grudge for years. I made my mother promise not to send me there anymore; she didn't ask why, but she never let me spend another summer with him."
"Is this the reason why you were so nervous over the past few days?"
She doesn't respond directly, "I'm not a big fan of living in the outdoors since." She smirks and then she gets serious again, "But when I think about it, I wonder if I have to be grateful to him, because in someway he made me the person I am now..."
"No Emily. You have to be proud of yourself because you turned into the person you are despite what that man did to you," he stresses almost with anger, and Emily wonders if he's referring to her experience or if he's thinking back to what he's been through as a child.
"Nothing can justify him for abandoning you in the middle of nowhere, and if he wanted to teach you a lesson he could have done that in a million different, better ways."
A shiver runs through her as she suddenly starts feeling weaker and weaker. She feels Derek's hand pressing against her forehead and she relaxes against him as he does so. She never shared this confidence with anybody and she never thought it could be so relieving and exhausting at the same time.
When she opens her eyes, she can see how his face has morphed with concern, "I don't look good, do I?" she asks sarcastically.
"We're gonna be fine, Emily. I'll get you out of here. I promise" reassures her and as he speaks he gets closer and wraps her into a tight hug.
As Emily starts shivering with fever, Derek soothes her, running a hand through her hair.
The realization sinking in clearer than ever, whatever it takes, he's not going to let her die here.
