Just to let you guys know, it may take me a day or so to get back into the quick updates with this story. I woke up this morning with a yucky head cold and, well, it's a little hard to sit and write when your face aches with sinus pressure and you're sneezing constantly :P Hopefully I'll get back on track quickly, but if it takes me a day or so, that's why. Just wanted to give you all a heads up!
The next chapter for this story is mostly written, so I only need to write the opening paragraph for that one and then proofread the rest, so that shouldn't take me too long. We'll see how soon I can get to it. And to all your reviews, thank you, you guys! You're all fantastic! I've been trying to reply to some here and there lately, but like always, I'm slacking at it. Just because I don't reply doesn't mean I don't love it, though! Thanks :)
Sparrow,
The sun has barely begun to rise on this quiet, mostly grey morning. I sit here in the hotel's coffee shop, a cup of coffee on the table in front of me, my back tucked into a corner, and with a perfect view of the windows, allowing me to watch outside as the rising sun peeks its greeting through the clouds.
My, that has an almost lyrical sound to it, doesn't it? Not at all something typical for me to be writing. Maybe it has something to do with how I feel this morning. I don't exactly know the words to describe my mood. Last night, I had a talk with Morgan and it helped me. Really, it did. I went to sleep feeling a little better than I had all day. And then I spent a night in nightmares. The bone-chilling, sweating, make your heart race kind of nightmares. The kind that transcend from nightmares to night terrors. The only thing that kept the whole floor from being alerted was the fact that I don't react like a typical person to the night terrors. Instead of thrashing and screaming as I do with a regular nightmare, with my night terrors I always seem to wake up tightly curled and without my voice. This time I was grateful for that. It kept me from waking anyone else and worrying them further. I attempted to sleep more, but there was no way I was going to be able to. So, I got up and took a shower—Morgan never wakes up to that. He's used to me doing that if a nightmare hits on a case. Eventually, I made my way down here, after leaving him a note to let him know where to find me.
Better I sit here and write to you than try to force myself to go back to sleep; a sleep that would most likely be plagued with more nightmares. Speaking of this, relieving it, seeing Elijah, it's brought everything back up to the surface. The little box I've forced this inside of in my mind is breaking apart and there's nothing I can do about it. I don't know how to fix this, Sparrow. I think it's been coming for years now, little by little. I've written before about thinking about telling the team. But not like this. Not this way. It would have been one thing to tell them on my terms, away from work. To have to tell them this way, not just with words, but with case files and photos and evidence? It makes it more—real. They aren't just hearing me tell them. They're seeing it. They're reading graphic details. And then they're hunting one of the people responsible for this.
I can't help but worry. Are we going after this man because we sincerely believe that he's done it, or because I want to hurt the man who hurt me? I mean, yes, there are the scars that we found. Those aren't just a nasty coincidence. Coincidences don't exist. But, can we all be positive that those scars really are M shaped, or are we seeing what we want to see? I would regret nothing that would put this bastard into jail. However, I would hate to put him away and leave another murderer running free. Am I ridiculous for thinking this way? Am I over-thinking things once more? I can't be sure. I have to trust to the team to do this.
What am I going to do? I can't just sit here and watch them work this case without me. Yet I can't help or I could ruin the entire case. A good lawyer would have everything tossed out because my presence would jeopardize the integrity of the case. I can't just go home and wait for news, either. I have to be here. I have to know what happens. I can't be here or there. Helping or not. I just don't know how to be. And inside, I feel so much more mixed up. So ripped apart. Gideon would have told me to use my analytical mind and break down what I'm feeling and why. He always knew I dealt better in facts so he helped me make my emotions into facts for me to process. I guess it's worth a try.
I am scared. No, terrified. That's a much clearer description. I am utterly terrified. Why? Ezekiel and Emmeline aren't here. They can't hurt me. Elijah doesn't know that I'm here. He doesn't know who I am. I'm safe. I'm surrounded by FBI agents and protected by an identity that he doesn't know. So why am I so terrified? It's not just old terror, of moments past. It's fresh terror. No matter how much I tell myself that he doesn't know me and can't hurt me, the little boy in me still cowers at the thought of him. At the thought of making him angry.
In turn, I am angry because of this. Angry with him for making me feel this way. Angry with them for having ever done this to us. Angry with myself for letting him get to me and for letting him reduce me to a terrified little boy once more.
I'm scared I'm going to lose my friends over this. I'm scared I'll lose the people who have come to matter the most to me. I'm scared that, after this case, nothing is ever going to be the same again.
But I am also determined. I'm determined to make sure that he pays for his crimes against these boys if we find proof that he's the one to have done it. I'm determined to make sure that justice is served.
"You're up and about early."
The sound of Emily's voice almost had Spencer leaving his seat. One hand instinctively dropped down to where his gun sat while his head tipped up toward the sound. When he saw it was just Emily, he settled back into his seat. Heat filled his cheeks. "Sorry." He apologized quickly. "You uh, you startled me."
"I'm sorry, Reid." The sincerity was obvious in her words. "I thought you'd heard me when I was ordering the coffee. I wasn't trying to sneak up on you or anything." She smiled in her kind way to soften her words. With one hand she pulled a chair out before sitting down beside him. She looked at his coffee and at the notebook that he was already closing and then up to his face, which he knew would be showing signs of his lack of sleep. "Rough night?" she finally asked.
Was there any point in hiding it from a profiler? Chewing on his lip, Spencer shrugged one shoulder, not quite sure how to answer that. The last thing he wanted to do was to make them all worry about him even more. Or make them think he was any weaker than he already appeared. "Nothing I can't handle." He settled on saying. It seemed to be the safest answer.
He was beyond surprised when Emily leaned forward and rested one arm on the table, her other hand reaching out and wrapping around his. His team knew he wasn't usually the type that was comfortable with casual touches and embraces; most likely now they understood part of why. He would have thought they would've avoided touching him even more now. But here she was, reaching out to him, holding his hand in a firm grip, and her gaze was steady and sincere, locked right on his face. The touch wasn't unwelcome, either. Spencer let himself curl his fingers around hers, enjoying the comfort that it brought.
"Listen to me, Reid." Emily's voice was low, packed with emotion. "You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about. Do you hear me? I'd be more worried if you slept like a baby last night. After having everything brought out in the open like that, without you choosing for it to happen, and being confronted with that man, it is perfectly logical and normal for you to be having a hard time with it. None of us are going to judge you for having nightmares because of this, or if you were unable to sleep, or anything like that. We're not worried about what you can or can't handle. There's no one out there that knows better than this team exactly how strong you really are. Others may not see it when they look at you, but we do. Do you understand? We're your family."
The firm, serious look on her face reminded him of another conversation between them, on the flight back home after Benjamin Cyrus. She'd had that same look in her eyes then that she did now. It let him know how important the words were that she was saying and how serious she was about them. Smiling ever so slightly, he nodded and squeezed her hand. "Thank you."
"No problem." With one last squeeze, she let go of his hand. "Morgan told me you'd be here. We're gathering to go down to the station and Hotch says that, if you're up for it, you can ride with us."
"I can't work the case, though. I'll put too much at jeopardy if I do."
"Hotch said you and Rossi can quietly set up in another room, away from us, and that, if you think of anything, to funnel it to him through Rossi." Emily said with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Technically, you won't be working the case directly."
That had Spencer's eyebrows going up in surprise. Something like this wasn't like Aaron. The man wasn't the type to do something this, sneaky. It didn't make sense for him to do something that could eventually come back and bite him in the ass. "That doesn't make sense. It doesn't sound like Hotch." He told Emily quietly.
She smiled and nodded. "That's what I thought. But he told me that both he and the Chief feel that you've earned the right to see the case through. So long as you're not directly involved in anything and you're kept only on the paperwork end of things, they want to keep you there. You're going to be able to recognize certain things before the rest of us and you'll be able to provide a type of insight the rest of us can't, Reid. But the choice is entirely yours. You don't have to do this."
"Yes, I do." He said without hesitation.
A voice called out "Prentiss!" and Emily looked up to see that her order was ready. Rising, she looked at Spencer and offered him another smile. "Then let's get to work, Reid."
Spencer was able to admit to himself that it felt good to work. Though he and Dave were isolated from the others, Spencer was fine with that. He lost himself in facts and information, working on the current files they had and staying completely away from anything that dealt with his own past. Dave didn't bring it up and neither did Spencer. They worked on trying to piece together any connection between these boys. That, in turn, would lead them to discovering how the Unsub might have selected them. Spencer had to force himself to be as unbiased as possible. They had no proof right now that Elijah was their suspect and, if he was, he was currently under surveillance anyways. That was all they could do until they had more facts.
As much as he wished they could bring the man in, he knew they couldn't. They had no proof yet. Nothing to tie him to the murders except for the brand and Spencer's testimony. A good lawyer could rip that apart in seconds. They could try to bring him in and formally question him and go for a confession, but that was a risk. If he didn't confess and they were forced to set him free, well, they all knew what could happen then. He could vanish on them. They could try for a warrant and search his home, but if they found nothing there, again, he could vanish. And he was smart; he always had been. He would have a secondary location where all of this was done and where his mementos were kept. He wouldn't keep it at the house like his Dad. No, he would have learned from his Dad's mistake.
Knowing all those things, it was a surprise to him when Aaron came in late that afternoon to give them a heads up for what was going to happen. He shut the door behind him and looked straight to Spencer as he said "We're bringing Jonathan Yates in for questioning this afternoon." He told them without preamble. He kept going before either man could protest. "Not as a suspect. We've asked him to come in and answer a few questions for us about the boys. As far as he knows, he's coming in to help us. We want the chance to speak with him but we also are hoping this will allow him to relax slightly. We're going to feed him some information while he's here that's geared to making him feel as if he's safe as Jonathon Yates. We don't want him suspecting we know he's really Elijah McGuire."
"If he feels safe, he'll possibly make a mistake." Dave said in agreement. "It's a good plan. I'll have to stay out of the way. He'd recognize me." Turning, he looked toward Spencer, who was staring blankly at Aaron. "Reid and I will stay in here, out of the way. Who's doing the questioning?"
"JJ and I. I doubt Morgan could keep his cool long enough to do it. I'm going to send him in here with the two of you." Aaron gave a wry sort of grin. "Better to contain him in advance."
"When is he coming in?" Spencer asked quietly. After yesterday's reaction, he had no idea if he could handle seeing the man or not. The thought of it made his stomach churn. On the other hand, he didn't think he could be anywhere else. He had to see him, even just to prove to himself that he could.
"He'll be here in twenty minutes."
Twenty minutes? That…that wasn't long at all. That wasn't near long enough to prepare himself. No, no. He needed more time. He couldn't see this man in twenty minutes. No way, no how. No. But it wasn't like he had a choice. They weren't asking him. They were warning him, to give him a heads up so that he could prepare himself. But, oh God, he didn't know if he could do this. Could he see him again without reacting the way he had at the school? Was he strong enough to handle seeing the man? He didn't actually have to. He could stay in here with Dave and not look out the windows at all and just hide. He could if he wanted to. They would all understand. No one would judge him for it.
No, they might not, but he would. He would judge himself. Can you really stand here and be that much of a coward? He can't hurt you. You're not a child anymore. You're not Leland anymore. You've made yourself into Spencer and Spencer is a grown man, an FBI agent, and he's not powerless. You're not powerless. So what if you're afraid? Are you going to let the fear control you? IF you can't even handle looking at the man through a window, then you're just as pathetic as they used to tell you that you were. You can do this!
He felt his boss watching him and he made himself look up at Aaron's face. Words wouldn't come right then, so he settled for giving him a nod, silently letting him know that yes, he was okay and he would be okay with this. Aaron nodded back at him. As his boss left the room, Spencer swallowed the lump in his throat.
"Are you sure you're okay with this, kiddo?" Dave said quietly beside him. "We can close the blinds, keep ourselves in here until he's gone. You don't have to see him, you know."
"Yes I do." Spencer croaked. He had to. Even if no one else understood, he had to do this. He had to at least see the man just to prove to himself that he could. To prove that he was stronger now and he would not live the rest of his life afraid.