Infinite Possibilities
All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.
Edmund Burke
***
XIII
At Hotch's orders, Morgan held off on continuing his solo mission. He hoped that doing so would not prevent him from saving Emily. He stood quietly in the conference room, staring at the blackboard.
'Morgan.' Hotch's voice was soft – softer than Morgan had ever heard it – but it still made him jump.
'I…did you find something?' he asked, the exasperation evident in his voice.
Hotch lowered his head, and Morgan's heart skipped a beat. This couldn't be anything good. He led Morgan out of the conference room, as if he was a child needing to be guided. So overcome with apprehension, he didn't even notice where Hotch was taking him.
It wasn't the location that was important, Morgan realized the moment Hotch handed him a sealed evidence bag.
'This was left at the front desk in an envelope marked "FBI." There's no record of anything being left behind on camera.'
Morgan was still clutching the bag, afraid to actually look inside; was it a finger? An ear? He knew the kinds of things kidnappers usually sent to taunt the LEOs, the families of the victims. He felt with his fingers, looking down only when he was convinced that the contents of the bag were not of bodily origin.
The once gold chain was now red; there was not one inch of the necklace that had not been stained with blood.
'She hasn't worn this in over two years,' said Morgan softly. He stared at the tiny cross, finding bitter irony in the whole situation; the juxtaposition of faith and despair were in grave contrast.
Hotch nodded. He knew. Morgan continued to speak anyway.
'She took it off the day Gideon died. Said that if she couldn't have faith in cosmic justice, she couldn't have faith in anything.' There was something deeper in his words, as if he didn't believe that she had truly lost faith altogether. Hotch raised this matter, and Morgan furrowed his brow before answering.
'She kept it in her pocket. Just waiting for someone to prove to her that there was some order in the universe, that what we do matters, that good conquers evil.' He profiled her thoughts with ease, Hotch noticed. And then the Unit Chief realized – Morgan knew what Emily was thinking because he was thinking the same things.
He was questioning his own faith.
***
In her strange, dark cell, Emily Prentiss was not undergoing a crisis of faith. Even if she was in less pain, if her head throbbed a little less, then she wouldn't have considered asking herself why this was happening. She knew very well that bad things happened to good people, and she knew that that was one thing that was very wrong with the world.
Right now, though, she lacked the cognitive ability to process this information. She was stuck in a limbo, partway between consciousness and unconsciousness. Her eyes were open behind the blindfold, but she had shut away the outside world. Right now, Emily was focused on staying alive, on staying sane, even if it cost her capacity for emotion. Compartmentalization at its finest.
He had left almost an hour ago. She had been just responsive enough to notice the sound of a door slamming. She had not heard it open since. She was alone in the darkness.
If she were to be rescued right at this second – if the team were to come bursting through the door, rip off the blindfold, untie the hands, bandage the wounds, heal the physical pain – she didn't know if any of it would make a difference.
She knew she had willingly thrown herself into this dark place, this funeral pyre, to survive. Getting in there had been the easy bit.
Getting out would be the problem.
A/N: Again, sorry for the shortness. It's been a long week, and I'm sorry I didn't have this up sooner. The story is drawing to a close, but keep in mind that there may or may not be a sequel. How's that for inconclusive?