Chapter 8
Derek Morgan's Apartment
Washington DC
Morgan had a modest place, half of a duplex he owned. It was clean, kind of dark, streamlined in the way of bachelor pads and men who let their current girlfriend decorate at the mall. He had one of those counter height tables just off the small, functional kitchen, and that was where he planted Spencer after the younger man had quietly accepted an enthusiastic greeting from Clooney. While Spencer slouched there Morgan went to the kitchen to find some kind of food to heat. As he went past the switch he dimmed the light over the table. "You know, my Momma always said that sunglasses in the house were rude."
Spencer took the hint and pulled off the shades, rubbed his eyes and the bridge of his nose, then went rummaging in his pack. Morgan watched as he took out stuff for contact lenses. "So Dr. Messer said migraines?" he asked as he set about removing the torture devices from his eyeballs.
"Yeah." Other than Morgan calling Garcia before they pulled out and telling her that he had Reid, that he was safe so go home, they hadn't discussed anything on the ride over. Spencer was clearly trying to hold in his gorge and Morgan was not about to distract him from the effort. He pulled out some leftover take-out and put it in the microwave to heat. "That's her official finding. Don't be surprised if Hotch tells you to make a doctor's appointment come Monday."
"I wonder what Strauss will say about that." Spencer said, in the distracted, remote voice of someone fiddling with drops and lenses.
"Don't worry about Strauss. It was a righteous shoot; she's just making her presence known." When the food beeped Morgan started making up two plates, and brought them to the table.
"It's not like we don't know she's watching our every move." Spencer blinked a few times to spread out the drops, and then started putting everything away. "Wait, you said official report. That presumes an unofficial report?"
"Yes, it does." Morgan went back to the kitchen for a soda and a beer. He came back and settled opposite his friend, who was just settling his glasses into place. He looked over at the way his friend was curling, hunched over, protecting himself from something. "But you don't need to worry about that now."
There was a long moment's silence while they started eating. Or Morgan started eating and Spencer poked at his plate. Then, finally, "Am I turning into my Mom?"
"No." Morgan stopped with the beer halfway to his mouth. "And you know that as well as we all do. You aren't showing any of the signs of paranoid schizophrenia. Now stop going there."
"Well, what is it then?"
"Nothing that serious, just, trust me for once, all right?"
They ate, or pretended to eat, for a few moments more. "You know, I didn't see Garcia when I was leaving." Spencer said.
"Yeah, I know." Morgan debated telling him, but something told him he ought to go there. "Julio gave me a call, the guy from Miami? He said you were in trouble. "He watched as Spencer curled into himself a little further. "I figured I'd play it safe."
"Thank you." Spencer said, mostly down to his plate. "He called me as well, before we went to Montana."
"Oh yeah?" Just what they needed, right? "What did he say?"
A moment later, Morgan realized his mistake. "I could hear you screaming all the way down here. Did you pray like I told you to? No. You went to the doctor. I could have told you you're not sick. No, you are not crazy. The saints told you, you have bad egun on your head. You must find out what they are doing to you. No, you are not sick. The doctor told you you're not sick. The charm I gave you is from Ornula, he will keep you from getting sick, for a time. The feeling of sickness is the tool the egun are using to keep you from something important. I don't know. I don't know you. You and your friends are smart, you'll figure it out. Now listen to me." Spencer recited something back in another language. "A prayer to Ornula to help you sleep without dreams. Tonight you will sleep. But you must find out what you must do, and soon. And in the meantime you must do two things to survive. Trust your friends. They care for you far more than you believe. Any thoughts otherwise are the egun trying to isolate you. Don't let them, and pray."
Mental note, Morgan thought, next time ask him to paraphrase. He sipped his beer and mentally picked over this information. "Hear you screaming?"
"I wasn't feeling well. I assumed poetic license."
"How did he know you went to the doctor?"
"I don't know." Spencer looked up from his plate. "How do you know I went to the doctor?"
"Garcia." Morgan sipped his beer and considered. A lot of that lined up with what Dr. Messer said. "You up to working?"
"Yeah."
Morgan pulled out his phone and hit redial.
"What are you doing?" Spencer asked.
"Calling him back," Morgan replied. He set his phone to speaker and put it in the middle of the table.
"The saints can see him now." Julio said, with a relieved note in his voice, by way of greeting. "Thank you."
"Yeah, now, you want to tell me what the hell's going on?" Morgan asked him.
"As I told your friend, he has bad egun on his head. When he went behind the Shadow the saints told me to call you."
Spencer leaned in a bit closer. "I'm not an expert in Palo Mayombe, but from what I know you don't appear to strictly follow the theology of that faith. What are "egun" and "saints" in this context?"
"The Christians believe that their God is omnipotent and omniscient, that God can see and do all. We do not believe this is the case. For if man must have free will, then even the gods cannot see what he is to choose before he does so."
Spencer blinked as he considered this. "That's actually a fairly sophisticated question. The…" Morgan gave him the sign to cut it there, before they went off on a tangent.
"We believe the knowledge gained by Adam and Eve was that they could hide from the gods, that when they chose to lie and conceal themselves the Shadow came into the world, a Shadow beyond which the gods cannot see. This is what the serpent desired, for evil wishes to create chaos and destroy the balance in the world, while the gods strive to create balance. If the gods cannot see the unbalance, they cannot correct it. This is why the Christians call their god the Good Shepherd, for a good Shepherd always goes to look for the sheep he cannot see."
"That's an interesting interpretation of that metaphor." Spencer said.
"Now because the gods cannot see everywhere they must have help, from man. When those who dedicate their lives to restoring the balance die they become saints, spirits who continue this work. But there are also the egun, the ghosts of those who create evil and chaos in this world, and disrupt the balance." Julio paused for a moment. "That is why God did not hear you, Agent Morgan. There was one close to you who brought the Shadow with him, so the gods could not see or hear. They could not hear you until you reached Northwestern."
Morgan froze. He hadn't told anyone about that except Father Marks, and he knew he wouldn't have told anyone. "Uh, yeah, so assuming all this is true, why are they after Reid?"
"It is not just your friend; they are after all of you." Julio said. "There was one of you, not long ago, whom Death pulled behind the Shadow. The gods did not know you were lost until he cried for his wife. Even then, it has taken this long for the saints to find you."
"Wait," Spencer said. "You said they didn't hear him until he cried for his wife?" That was after Haley died, but Hotch had suffered for months before while his family was away. "When you say "death" what do you mean?"
"The saints showed me Death, the robe, the scythe, the bony hand… death."
Spencer looked up at Morgan, who nodded, "Okay, same question," Morgan asked, "why Reid?"
"He is the youngest. He is the first one the saints wish to help."
"Because he's the most vulnerable?"
"Yes and no. He is also young and one of the strongest among you. Did that woman today not tell you he is strong?"
Morgan ignored Spencer's curious look. "If he's so strong then why send him the help?"
"Because they want him strong enough to fight for a long time."
"All right, so what are they sending?"
"I don't know." Julio admitted. "If they tell me then the egun might overhear. But the egun know they are trying, and so they are trying to distract him so he cannot find the help they offer. Have you not been distracted from your work of late? Is this sickness not distracting him from what he would usually do?"
"So what does he need to start doing?"
"I don't know. I don't know him, and if they tell me and the egun overhear it makes it harder for the saints to work. My suggestion, as a student not a priest, is that you take him to church."
"Wait," Spencer spoke up. "I'm not a believer; I don't pray or go to church."
"Which church?" Morgan asked.
"Any church… your church," Julio answered, ignoring Spencer's protestations. "Take him to a Temple, if you prefer. Take him to a Mosque or a Synagogue. Take him to holy ground. There the egun cannot follow him."
"You think that's where we're going to find God?" That's too easy, Morgan thought.
"No. The gods have no need for a house. A house of God is a place of refuge for those who do the work of the gods on earth. It is a place for those people who choose to help bring the balance to come and strengthen each other. It is because of this the egun cannot go there. Your friend is very intelligent, perhaps if you can get the egun off his head, or if you prefer off his ass, for a time he can think of what he has been avoiding. At least it's a better idea than what that woman gave you." There were sounds in the background. "I have to go."
"Wait," Morgan called to him. "Why are you helping us?"
"I am a priest, dedicated to the work of the gods. You also help the gods, by fighting evil. It is better if we work together." He paused and said something to someone in the room in another language. "If I learn anything more from the saints I will call you." With that he hung up.
Spencer slumped and went back to poking at his supper while Morgan picked up his beer. "So, do you believe all this?"
"I don't know." Morgan said after a moment. "Like you said, if you believe in one you have to believe in the other. " He shook his head. "I don't know, I keep thinking of Floyd Feylinn, and how he caught every lucky break, or Father Paul Silvano and how he had diplomatic immunity or, well, Billie Flynn. " He hated to remind Reid of that, but. "How lucky was it for him that not only was there a power blackout that night but the cell system went down too?"
"The Unsubs do seem to catch every break." Spencer agreed. "How did he know that Hotch was targeted by The Reaper, or about your meeting with Dr. Messer?"
"That's part of what's making this so creepy."
"Why is going to church a better idea than the one Dr, Messer had?"
Morgan sighed, "Because she was still working on one when I left." He shook his head when he saw Spencer sag a little more. "Now stop that, we are not giving up."
"I should probably just leave the Bureau now before this gets any worse. Before I screw up so bad that someone gets hurt."
"I said stop that. Now look at me. Look." He didn't continue until Spencer made eye contact. "This is not going to get any worse. She said it wasn't organic, you're not sick, and we are going to find a way to fix this. In the meantime it hasn't been impacting your ability to do your job. You're still a valuable member of this team."
"Even with what happened in Miami?"
Morgan shook his head, "Even with that. We handled you being on crutches, we can handle this." Spencer slumped back down, went back to picking at his food. "Now in the meantime you're going to church tomorrow with me at 11."
"Why?"
"Why not? It can't hurt." Morgan took the final sip of his beer. "Look, Rossi was right when he said it was our job to stop evil, not to understand it. So I'm not going to sit here and decide who was right, the shrink or the priest. We're going to cover all our bases, just in case."
"All right." Spencer sagged a little more. "Mind if I take a shower."
"Sure. You know where it is. I'll go get the sheets for the couch."
Morgan stood up, gathered the plates, and took them to the kitchen. Spencer stood up as well, but he just stood there a moment. "Julio was right, I was in trouble." He reached into his pocket, put a small bottle on the table, then turned and headed for the living room where they'd left his go bag.
Morgan froze. Fear coiled in his gut, icy and tight. He slowly scraped and stacked the plates, then walked over and picked up the small bottle, begging whatever was out there that he would not see Dilaudid on the label, although he already knew it was what it had to be. This wouldn't have killed him, he thought, not tonight. But it would have sent that downward spiral going so fast that he might not have been able to stop.
He cradled the little bottle and turned to look at his friend through the doorway. Shame, that's what he had been seeing in his body language all night. I can't get angry with him, Morgan thought, that won't help. And while it's the worst treatment possible, it may be the only thing that holds him until we can find something better. "Hey." He waited until Spencer turned and looked at him, the longing for help clear in his eyes. "You need this, you come ask me. No one else. Me. Understand?" He waited until Spencer nodded before he stuck the bottle in his pocket and went to get the sheets.
Later he stood on his small back patio and watched Spencer sleep through a crack in the curtains. "So that's where we're at so far." He said into his phone. He was lying, of course. He hadn't told Garcia about the small bottle in his pocket. He'd told her he caught Reid heading out of the building, and suspected, maybe, but not that it had gotten that far.
"So what are you going to do? Are you going to do what creepy guy told you?"
"Yep, I'm taking him to church with me tomorrow." Morgan sighed. "I figure it can't hurt him, and at least it's something I can do, instead of just standing here waiting for him to fall apart."
"You know, I think I know why they'd want to help the youngest." Garcia said.
"Why is that, baby girl?"
"Well, think about it. Really, honestly, you may be Superman now, but how much longer do you plan to kick in doors?"
"As long as I can."
"And how long do you think that will be? I mean, that kind of thing is hard on the joints, isn't it?"
Morgan considered that a moment. He knew he was a good profiler, he knew he could bring that to the team. But a lot of his strength was physical and while at 37 he was at the top of his game, eventually age and use would tell. "I don't know, maybe 20 years, maybe a little more. Why?"
"What Reid does is all in his head, which lasts longer. And he's what. 28, 29? And he already has like nine or ten years experience. He could stay at the BAU another 40 years, easy. With his brains and 50 years experience, the Unsubs wouldn't stand a chance."
"Yeah, if we can get him to last that long."
"And another thing, maybe what the doctor and the creepy guy are saying is really the same thing."
Morgan frowned at that. Where did she get that connection? "What do you mean?"
"Well, Palo Mayombe is one of those Afro-Caribbean religions that came about when slaves from Africa mixed their traditional religions with Christianity. Well, they were slaves, right? Captives? And C-PTSD is something that happens to people who are trapped, held captive. And the priests were also the community healers, right?"
Morgan saw where she was going. "And maybe they recognized the symptoms of C-PTSD only they described it in spiritual terms, not psychological ones."
"Yeah, and so, maybe as part of their oral tradition they passed down both a description of the problem and a holistic treatment, including a way to talk about it that the sick person could hear. Maybe that's what he saw in Reid."
"Maybe," Morgan agreed. It was a distinct possibility that that could have been what attracted Julio to Reid to begin with. "And Dr. Messer said he had to make connections outside of the Bureau, in the community. A church group is a good place to find that."
"So, you know, maybe taking him to church with you is the right idea." Garcia said. "Oh, but leave your phones on vibrate, you're on call tomorrow."
"What?" Morgan groaned. "We weren't supposed to be back until Monday."
"Strauss said we're shorthanded." Garcia sighed. "You know, I can totally see her as an agent of Satan. Keep me posted?"
"You know I will baby girl. Now go to sleep, everyone is safe tonight."
After Garcia hung up Morgan stood there a moment, looking at the sleeping form of his friend, huddled on the couch. I don't know, little brother, he thought, I just don't know. But I know you're safe tonight, no one is going to hurt you. I got you. One day at a time, isn't that it? Now we'll see what happens tomorrow.
