Chapter 8
Anderson Residence
Washington DC
Spencer
"So were you able to initiate contact." Morgan asked.
"Not in any meaningful way." Spencer told him as the interview continued. "He fed us…."
"Wait, you've never seen Torchwood?" Cali sounded incredulous.
Spencer shook his head. Once he found the microphones he's tried to talk to the Unsub, but all he got was a pass drawer with a scattering of convenience store food. They'd dined on prepackaged turkey sandwiches and milk and split a small package of pretzel sticks. It had started out as a way to keep her calm while he tried to figure out what to do, but there was little to go on right now. Not exactly where he'd take a girl on a first date, but the conversation more than made up for it. "No, I've never even heard of it. Is it related to the Torchwood Institute from Blood and Claw? You know, where the werewolves go after Queen Victoria?" At first he had been worried, given that she wasn't really a huge Trekkie, but she shared his views on Star Wars (Han shot first) and turned out to be a massive Dr. Who fan. She was also sweetly easy to talk to, and remarkably intelligent. Also graceful and poised and there was just something….
Okay, yes, this could be a problem. He was starting to fall here.
"Yes. That became the Torchwood Institute in the last episode of the new season two, where Torchwood London was destroyed by the Cybermen and the Daleks. That was Torchwood team One I believe. They made a spinoff, based in Cardiff and focusing on Torchwood team Three, which was headed up by Capt. Jack Harkenss." Cali had finally relaxed somewhat; was sitting across from him in the pile of blankets. Her posture was still elegantly perfect to the point of being noticeable, and unlike most people he knew, he had yet to see her fidget at all. Instead she tended to sit perfectly still and yet make it look utterly comfortable, like she could stay like that for hours.
Ohhh, wait. "Not the Captain Jack from The Empty Child, the one who became a companion to the ninth Doctor?"
"The one and the same, he's wonderful."
"This makes me think that Torchwood would be the more, ahem, adult spinoff." Given that Capt. Jack profiled as one of the few true omnisexuals he'd ever seen, in fiction or real life.
"Very much so," she yawned hugely, finally moving to cover it. "Oh, I am sorry, that's rude of me." She held her watch up to the firelight. "But not surprising, it's three in the morning. Or maybe afternoon, I can't tell."
He sighed. "Neither can I, he took my pocket watch."
She smiled at him. "You wear a pocket watch?"
"Sometimes," he could feel his ears burning. "You're probably going to say that's the geekiest thing you've ever heard."
"No, not at all my…uh, the butler at Rothmere wears a pocket watch. I think it's quite distinguished."
"Rothmere?"
"Home. Manor house, ancestral seat of Lord and Lady Southerby. My parents work there, Mum's the housekeeper, Dad's the head gardener."
"Ahh. Following in your parent's footsteps then."
"Yes. I'll be the seventh generation in service in our family." She grinned "You're probably going to say that's the geekiest thing you've ever heard."
"No, I…um…I think it's kind of romantic actually. Anyway, one of the most common ways Un…people like this use to control their victims is to take away their sense of time and place. The disorientation is deliberate." Call it instinct but he did not want this one to know he was FBI. Not yet.
"Well, I am not going to give him the pleasure of watching me worry about it then. I am thinking nap though. Excuse me." She got up and ducked into the small bath.
There was one problem with this cell. At all of four foot, maybe, by eight at best there was simply no way to make two beds. When she came back he pointed it out. "We could go nose to toes, I guess."
"No need. You, however, have the long sleeves so you get the side by the fire in case you roll." The glass was not that hot, but a sleeve would provide more protection than bare skin. They stretched out, feet toward the door, heads toward the bath, as many blankets as they could under them to provide a makeshift bed. Spencer lay carefully on his back, his fingers laced over his chest. "What are you doing?" She asked as she lay down beside him.
"Um, nothing." She was lying right up against him; he could feel every curve through her thin dress, warm and soft. She smelled like honey, how did girls do that? "That's kind of the point."
"Nonsense, I'm not a fragile flower and you're taking all the space. Roll this way."
He did so, gingerly, only to have her roll away from him, then reach back, take his arm, and pull it over her waist. It was much more comfortable, and yet so much more intimate, with her rounded backside inches from his… and his hand so close to her… "You know, I never asked. Do you have a boyfriend?" He felt her grow tense under his arm, like a bow suddenly pulled. "Husband?" No, wait, maybe. "Girlfriend?"
"None of the above," she told him. "I am romantically unattached. How about you? Wife? Husband?"
"Uh, no, none of the above; I'm unattached myself." There's something she's not telling me, he realized, something about her romantic past. "This couldn't be a stalking ex-boyfriend, could it?"
She was relaxing again, and that question did nothing to stop that process. "No, not at all," he heard her yawn. "He's not going to come in here, is he? You're going to protect me while I sleep?"
He was smiling as she relaxed; now it seemed the most natural thing to do to pull her in snug, hold her a bit closer and feel her against him, "Always."
"You didn't explore that further?" Morgan asked him.
"Not then. Things started really happening after we woke up."
He woke up sometime later, stiff and sore as hell from not moving and sleeping on too little padding over thin concrete. He blinked several times, wondering when someone poured sand in his eyes, and rolled enough to get a look at her watch. It was ten, either AM or PM. Impossible to tell.
He scooted around until he could get to his feet then stagger in to stoop over in the tiny bathroom. His eyes were sore and hot and far too dry. He should not have slept with his contacts in, he thought. Now he needed his…oh hell.
He came back out just as Cali was stirring and knelt beside her in the makeshift bed. She must have noticed something on his face. "Good morning. What's wrong?"
"Good morning. I'm afraid I'm going to be going blind on you here fairly soon."
"Why?" That got her attention, had her sitting up and looking at him.
"Contacts." They were still functional at the moment, but without any kind of drops they weren't going to be anywhere close to comfortable that much longer. "I don't even have a place to put them when I take them out, and no glasses." He had already bemoaned the loss of his bag.
"Maybe we can use one of the milk bottles, rinse it out well. It would at least hold them."
"That might work." Granted he wouldn't be able to put them back in, but it was something. "At least I don't have to read anything."
She stepped to the bath. While she was in there the pass drawer opened. Inside were two milk bottles, two corn dogs, and two packages of potato wedges. The only thing going for them was that they were warm. Under that were two clipboards, with two pencils attached.
Well this was new.
He was looking them over when she came out and dropped down beside him. Her hair was a bit damp, probably from splashing her face and given the lack of towels. They were conserving the toilet paper, just in case. "What is this?" She asked as he handed her breakfast.
"Corn dogs."
She looked at it with a touch of despair. "I am going to pretend this is a sausage pasty. If he's going to do takeout, my kingdom for some decent curry."
It just kept getting better. "Ok, you are the first other person I've met who likes Indian food."
She sagged with longing. "Oh I miss it terribly. Do you know a good place in DC?"
"I know about four." He stopped to blink a moment. "I think I just asked you out to dinner four times."
She'd gone that too tense sort of unnatural quiet again. But after a moment she said. "If I can, I'd love to." She looked over at the clipboards. "What's that?"
"I don't know; some kind of questionnaire. I haven't had a chance to take a look at it yet. He probably heard me say that I wasn't going to be able to read soon." He passed her one but decided to finish his so-called breakfast before having a look.
She started right in as she nibbled. She looked, and turned very pale, and looked utterly shocked. "Bloody hell," she muttered. Then she turned up to where the microphones were. "Hey! Hello! I don't know who you are but…I can't do this. I'm a retainer at Rothmere. Mr. Dalton is my trainer-of-record, you can call him. I'm training in town under Mr. Parker. Look, I'm not rated for this kind of service, I can't…" That faint hissing, that background static noise stopped. "What the hell?"
All of a sudden Spencer placed that sound. "He stopped pumping in air." Now it was his turn to call out to the mysterious Unsub. "She'll do it, all right? I'll…I'll make her do it. Just…just turn the air back on, please!"
The faint hissing started up again.
Point made.
But Cali had worked herself to a state of near panic. "No!" She said more quietly to him. "I can't do this! I'm not supposed to!"
"Look." He leaned in and, as quietly as he could, explained the situation to her. The FBI, the BAU, that they were being held by an Unsub, and serial offender, and… "SOP in these situations is to pacify the Unsub, do whatever he wants, play to his fantasy and try to keep your eyes open for an opportunity to get word out. My team is looking for us, I know that, and they will find us, we just have to survive until they get here. And if that means filling out forms then we fill out forms, all right."
She looked like her world was crumbling under her, but she nodded. "It's just…I know what this means and…"
"Whatever it is we'll get through it." He finally had a chance to look at them. Quality paper, a letterhead with a crest, something he didn't recognize. The first page of questions were all about him, age, size, general medical, education, employment – college professor for that one, hopefully the lie wouldn't be caught- so on and on. He looked over and found her nervously filling out the same.
The second of several pages got more….personal.
He could feel his own jaw dropping as he flipped through the rest. They were very detailed, very specific, questions about his sex life. Desires, fantasies, experiences… He looked over to where she was trying to work through them, clearly shaking.
Oh boy.
Well, as difficult as this might be it wasn't going to change anything. SOP was still to pacify the Unsub, even if that meant… "Um, given where this is going I think I ought to tell you something." Boy he wasn't going to be able to answer a lot of these.
"Are you about to say you've never done this before?" She murmured back.
Well... "Do you mean filled out a questionnaire like this or had sex? Granted the answer to both is no."
"Neither have I."
"To which?"
"Both."
Oh boy.
