Para-Noir
VIII
She's sitting on the last of the three chairs in the room, eyes closed in thought.
'Problem?' I put a hand on her back. To her credit, she doesn't jump.
'I'm just thinking,' she says. 'Whichever way we proceed, it's going to be dangerous as hell. We can either infiltrate an Inquisitorial Torture Camp to find JJ, or infiltrate a restricted medical facility to find Reid.' She's using the familiar names without thought now, as though she knows these people without ever having actually met them. I feel the same way.
'We'll go for the asylum first,' she says.
She seems to have decided on finding Reid first. A moment later, she tells me why. 'It's not hard to get into an Inquisitorial Torture Camp. It's getting out that's the problem.' She speaks as though she's had some experience in that area, and I don't doubt that she has.
'Garcia,' Emily moves to stand next to Penelope. 'What can you tell me about this mental health facility? Do they do consults? Allow visitors? Any contact at all with the outside world?'
'No visitors allowed – these people are apparently the worst of the worst. They don't do consults, but sources say that they are looking for a full time counselor to join their staff.' She turns, looks at me critically. Emily does the same.
'I think maybe horn-rimmed glasses would do the trick,' Emily says finally. I immediately understand what she's getting at.
'Come on,' she says, pulling me to the door. 'I know a fake ID guy that owes me a favor.'
***
My new name is Randal Ward, psychiatrist. I have a new job history, new IDs, and since Emily asked nicely, a distinct lack of nasty skeletons in the closet. I've heard stories of people getting fake identities, only to be arrested for crimes they didn't commit. An ironic joke made by the forger.
She takes me to a marginally nicer part of town, where you're less likely to be disemboweled for your wallet. In this "nice" part of the city, a few rays of sun penetrate the clouds.
She holds my hand. A façade, I'm sure, but I grip her fingers warmly anyway, relishing the contact.
The clothes she got from the general store are evidently insufficient to maintain my cover – I need something a little nicer. Something that isn't covered in blood and dirt.
When we get back, Penelope has already emailed my fake résumé, complete with fake references. According to her, they're renowned for their quick response times. It almost seems too easy. I'll be going in alone; there's no other way.
In the city, you're always alone.
It takes less than three hours for a response. They've run my references, checked by background. Emily's source is nothing if not thorough.
'They want an interview,' announces Penelope. 'If the interview is successful, you will be taken on to staff immediately. If it is unsuccessful, you will be booted out immediately.'
I'm in my suit, those horn-rimmed glasses firmly in place. I have a leather briefcase and it's not filled with paperwork. Penelope gives me a quick briefing on how to operate the sophisticated gadgetry. Then, she gives me a long hug.
'Be careful, hot stuff,' she whispers.
And then I'm gone.
***
Emily goes with me as far as she can. While I'm gone, she's separating from Penelope for safety reasons. If there's anyone looking – and we know there is – they'll have a much harder time finding three individuals than a group of three.
'Do you think someone's on our side?' she asks me as the train slows to a stop. It's a more sparsely populated area of the city, smaller buildings, and greater distance between buildings. The institute is a few miles from here.
'What do you mean?'
'I was just thinking. If this were some giant conspiracy, then we would have been caught by now. As it is, while things aren't going spectacularly, they aren't going terribly either. I'm just wondering if there's someone trying to balance the score.' She gave the one armed shrug that was becoming habitual for her. Then, she got to business.
'Okay. What's your name?'
'My name is Randal Ward.'
'And why are you here?'
'I'm interested in branching out further in forensic psychology.'
'And who would you like to meet first?'
'Spencer Reid.'
The lies come easily as she tests my cover. I wonder if I was like this before, hiding away my inner darkness with half-truths and misdirection.
She does the same thing, a voice tells me. I wonder what she was before this. A friend? A lover? The few memories I have are non-specific.
'Goodbye,' she says. Then she pulls me in for a long kiss. 'And good luck.'
She leaves without further warning.
I'm on my own.
Just like everyone else.
A/N: At least one person was wondering, but I'll make it clear that JJ is still alive - for now.
