A/N: Disclaimer? What disclaimer? Oh right, the one in the first chapter. Big thanks goes out to those brave souls embarking on this journey with me (I'm working on wrapping it up and feel incredibly bad to those who have only begun… Word count alone is crazy and perhaps a little bit of a deterrent. However, I did try to keep the chapters manageable that way: a) I can keep a head by at least one chapter and b) it helps with remembering where one may have left off in reading (I don't think I could imagine this as one complete chapter… Although on the other hand, this wasn't supposed to be this long. Go figure). There is a conclusion somewhere on the horizon— I'm just not there yet. Please hang in there. I greatly appreciate any and all feedback— sometimes simple 'conversation' creates new ideas and directions. In any case, please enjoy and I hope to have the next chapter up soon!
Pull Me Through: Part XIV
With thoughts of the previous evening's conversation in his head, Gideon arrived at Quantico surrounded by an air of satisfaction—a noticeable spring in his step, should anyone have been present to witness it. He was glad to have arrived early enough to have a moment to himself, a moment to savour the tea he had been nursing from the café around the corner from his home and fully appreciate the calm before the inevitable storm— it was Monday morning after all, and case briefings were the norm. He entered his office, managed to shrug out of his jacket and hung it on the coat rack behind his door along with his scarf. Settling himself into his comfortable well aged leather chair behind his desk, he found the only un-occupied space for his paper cup. He thought to call her then; however, the file that rested on top of a pile of books begged for his attention and he suppressed a sigh as he reached out towards it. Opening the familiar flimsy, tan file, he thumbed through the contents in an attempt to quickly familiarise himself with the pending case. It felt strange how the cringe ran down his spine and rested at the bottom of his feet. It was obvious to him that it was far too late for the victims contained within the file he held between worn, callused fingertips. Despite the dark; however, he usually attempted to see the light and hoped that they would be able to assist in the apprehension of the un-sub before that individual struck again.
He tilted back in his seat, crossing his right ankle over his left knee and then placed the open file onto his lap, cradling it slightly. He sensed someone just outside his door, yet said nothing. He continued to view the contents, review the information— she watched as he rested his elbow on the arm of the chair and then ran a hand down his face with his classic heavy, deep in thought sigh. He hadn't known exactly how long she lurked outside his door, only that the gentle brush of delicate knuckles against his metal doorframe wasn't a surprise and he glanced up to greet her, her arms wrapped around a stack of thick files, with a warm smile and a curt nod. She had always been a breath of fresh air, gracefully fluttering about the office— always helpful and incredible kind hearted and genuine. Today, she could sense his happiness bubbling below the surface of seriousness the open file no doubt placed upon his rugged features. She entered his office, her blond hair hung straight around her shoulders— neatly framing her face. She quickly went through the files she held and found the one she wanted.
"Gideon, I thought that you would want to look at this. We've been asked to assist the Virginia Police Department with a case that has taken a rather interesting turn. I've already spoken to Hotch and he agrees that this case is a priority." She placed the file on his desk. "Are you all right?" her eyebrows furrowed and she tilted her head— the hair behind her shoulder fell forward. He closed the file in his lap and looked up at her. "I suppose you've spoken to Elle then?" he nodded slowly, deliberately. "When is she due back?" hope filled her voice.
"I'm not sure." He replied and opened the new case file. His eyebrow shot up, nearly meeting his hairline. "This looks like it would be right up her ally though." She took a deep breath. "If Elle returns, it has to be on her own terms. Right now, it's an issue of trust."
"Oh, I see." She replied, "Hotch wants to meet in the conference room in about ten minutes or so."
"Thanks." He returned his attention to the file, skimming through the contents— already formulating a profile, he grabbed a pen and a nearby pad of paper and began to jot down his thoughts.
The team assembled in the conference room, each ready to hammer out how they would deal with their most recent un-sub. Thorough careful calculation, it was quickly determined that he was well beyond an organised individual. Gideon remained quiet, Hotchner noticing this also held back— it was almost as though Gideon had been evaluating their team, more to the point, evaluating Prentiss and how well she interacted with the team and how well-thought out her input was. J.J. stood at the front, remote control in hand, flipped through the many images while they deconstructed the case. Hotchner took Gideon's silence into consideration while he found himself watching her. From what they knew, she had just under the required field experience, which didn't necessarily hinder her as far as being a member of the team. However, he always read her as appearing far too eager to prove herself, far too eager to prove that she belonged to the team, far too over zealous— and he and Gideon both felt and were all too aware that it was this attitude; that same over zealousness that could potentially get a field agent killed. This last thought over-shadowed her question.
"It local PD believes that they have a suspect. Then why ask for our assistance?" she repeated her inquiry. Hotchner uncrossed his arms before answering.
"Just because all evidence points in one particular direction, it doesn't mean that individual is their suspect. There have been many cases in which judgement has been clouded with the desire to close a case. Tunnel vision can happen to the best of us." He added and glanced over towards Gideon.
"Going over the file, I don't feel strongly enough that this guy, Frank Jewel, is our un-sub. He's far too disorganised and if you happen to have gone through the time-line, he doesn't fit that— nor does he fit into our profile." Prentiss nodded and wrote something on her note pad. Garcia sat quietly, her flamboyant dress the only indication of her presence. She could hardly bring herself to look at the crime scene photographs as Morgan spread them out on the table in front of him.
"There isn't enough in these photographs for us to fully conclude that he is an organised killer. Hell there isn't enough here for me to get an actual feel for his behaviour." His comment broke through the silence and all eyes focused on him. "I'd like to spend a bit of time at the last crime scene. As far as they know, this is the primary crime scene?" J.J. nodded and tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear.
"So far as they concluded." She replied and placed the remote on the top of her stack of files that sat on the table. "He's fairly systematic in the placement of his victims. Very meticulous in what he leaves behind, if anything." She added and her expression darkened. Hotchner seemed to pick up on the pattern. "I think we've seen this before." She crossed her arms tightly across her body in what appeared to Gideon an attempt to cease the shudder that probably ran down her spine. "Perhaps this is the work of a copy-cat?"
"Or the police had the wrong guy from the get go." Gideon thought for a moment; newspaper articles and televised broadcasts went through his mind as he sat back in his seat. "We'll meet downstairs in thirty." He lingered while the rest of the team disbursed, finally leaving him alone with Hotchner.
"Jason, are you all right?" he stood firmly in place and Gideon could only sigh and shake his head in response. Hotchner never liked his moments of quiet contemplation— it had never been a good sign.
"Just feeling a little torn— is all. It'll pass." He pushed his chair away from the table and stood. His expression remained unreadable, another bad sign, which worried Hotchner that Gideon was hiding something from him.
"Something isn't right." He added over his shoulder and headed to his office. He didn't have much time to himself; quickly collected a few files and picked up the phone— dialling her number from memory.
"Hello." Her voice immediately brought a smile to his lips.
"Elle, it's me. Listen, it's an at home case." He paused just long enough for her to interrupt him.
"Are you all right?" he didn't answer right away.
"Once this case is over I'll be a lot better." He replied honestly— and you're back on the team, he thought as he stood and pushed the chair back in its place behind the well utilised desk. "I'm not sure how long the case will go, but I'll keep in touch." He added and she heard the abruptness in his tone. Agent Emily Prentiss, deep blue power suit, crisp blouse underneath her well-cut blazer and every strand of hair in place stood at his door. He turned towards her and held up a hand.
"Sure Gideon, no problem. Let me know if you need anything. Talk to you soon."
"I'll call you later tonight." He added in a hushed tone before cradling the phone.
"Sir, I." She stopped herself in mid thought. He moved briskly through his office, grabbed his jacket and indicated her to follow. "I found several cases that mirror this one. I don't know if it helps." She held the obviously well-organised file in her hands and they stepped onto the elevator. They rode down in silence and met with the rest of the team in the parking lot where they divided themselves into two groups and drove to the police station.
Gideon hung back and watched as the team exited the SUVs, headed up towards the precinct chatting about the facts— working though the various scenarios. He watched as Prentiss continued to shove her thoughts and opinions on the motivation of the un-sub, not acting so much as a member of the team, rather it would appear, attempting to lead it— this unsettled him, but he also knew the difficulty in being the 'new kid'. Morgan always had an odd way of initiating the newer members of the team, with Prentiss; however, he was different— it was obvious to Gideon that he had difficulty in warming up to her. Perhaps it was because while she was overly active in the process, she also maintained an odd, closed posture that could easily be misread as uninviting. Hotchner glanced towards the board where J.J. stood working through a few points.
"I definitely have enough for a press conference; however, I'll hold off until we have a definitive working profile. I don't want to jump the gate here."
"Very good, I'm confident that we'll have that shortly." Hotchner replied and the team assembled in a group amongst the officers attending the briefing.
"We are dealing with a possible copy-cat, who has perfected his craft well beyond the original offender." Hotchner began and waited while a few officers scribbled notes and others maintained eye contact— nodding his or her understanding. "The kicker is to re-establish the pattern— that may allow us to head off this un-sub." Hotchner stood straight and gestured for an officer to ask a question.
"We've gone over the case file with a finer than fine toothed comb and haven't been able to head him off." He closed his small spiral notebook.
"What makes you think you'll get him before he strikes again?" another piped in.
"Probably because he hasn't received the attention he craves. He wants recognition for his work. The media hasn't given him nearly as much coverage as David Brown, for example. Brown's crime scene had been splashed across television screens for weeks before he was caught in Georgia. J.J. will be holding a press conference— this will be the beginning of his end." Hotchner crossed his arms across his chest. Prentiss joined him at the front of the room.
"By giving him what he craves, the probability of his making a mistake increases." She stated flatly, "and when he does, we'll be there." She added and the officers disbursed, quietly discussing their rounds and the routes that they would be taking. The sight where the bodies were located was always the same; surely if they had enough undercover, someone would catch him.
Gideon continued to keep back from the investigation, Morgan noticing his lack of passion sat himself in the vacant seat. He leaned in towards the seasoned, usually difficult to read profiler.
"I know that coming from me, it isn't the same. Gideon, if you need someone to talk to, I'm here." He raised a well-groomed brow and sat back. Gideon's gaze didn't change, he finally licked his lips and nodded his thanks and they watched J.J. as she and the lead detective Fuller exited the station, quickly becoming of interest to the media already gathered outside the precinct.
They worked late in the evening, the team going over the crime scene, over each and every significant characteristics of said crime scene— all working very well together. Gideon's cell rang and he dashed out of ear shot before answering— he didn't need to be profiled by a member of his team.
"Gideon." His tone was professional, as it always had been whenever she called him.
"Hi, I guess you're still working on the case." Her voice washed over him, calming his very raw nerves.
"We are. J.J. did the press conference for the dinner hour news. About two and a half hours ago."
"I saw her. Reminds me of the William Winter's case." She sat back on the sofa and twisted the telephone cord deliberately between her fingers.
"That's it!" Gideon exclaimed.
"What?"
"I knew that this case reeked of an old case." He paused and ran a hand through his closely cropped hair and sighed loudly. "The only problem is that we have to wait until this guy makes his move."
"Why not retrace Winter's pattern, see if this un-sub is following it exactly, or deviating." She continued to play with the cord.
"I could kiss you." She heard the smile in his voice, heard the burst of happiness that broke him from his slump.
"Later tonight?" she teased— in response she received a throaty laugh. "Well happy un-sub hunting. If you haven't eaten, drop by my place on your way home. I made your favourite."
"Really?" an eyebrow shot up and he thought for a moment. "I suppose there really isn't much that we can do at the moment. I'll check in with Hotch and I'll call you when I'm on my way. I have to go back to Quantico first to pick up my car." He paced between the trees.
He arrived at Elle's for a casual eight o'clock dinner— bottle of fine wine in hand. She opened the door and greeted him with a tender kiss before helping him out of his jacket and hanging it in the closet. Soft music played in the background and the scent of beautifully melding spices fragranced the air. They returned to the kitchen where she quickly checked the progress of their meal. Gideon found the wine glasses and the cork screw; poured the aged wine into the glasses and handed one to her.
"Thank you." She held out her glass and they gently clinked them before taking the first sip. It had never been his intension to break their understanding— that they wouldn't discuss anything pertaining to the BAU, unless it was to discuss her possible return. However, this evening seemed different— Elle seemed different. He hadn't said anything, but silently appreciated the silky camisole with a black open shirt over top— thankfully she hadn't done the buttons up to her chin. She appeared more confident, more comfortable with herself, and happy to open the conversation to their case— possibly sensing his need to talk. She sipped her wine and pondered their situation. In her mind everything pointed in one direction.
"Jason, isn't it the anniversary." She broke their comfortable silence, turning towards him; she placed her wine glass on the counter. "Either this un-sub is the original, or he is celebrating the work of another by carrying on the tradition." She grabbed the spoon and dipped it into the sauce, then scooped some to taste. Holding the spoon out towards him, he leaned into her and let her spoon feed him.
"That's amazing." He smiled brightly, wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into him and began to lightly kiss her jaw line, down towards the base of her graceful neck. She finished preparing their meal and they sat at the table, candles lit, fresh flowers, and more wine. Continuing to discuss the case, they worked through possible reasons; Elle even got up and grabbed a pad of paper to make some notes. She may not have the case file, or the Winter's file, for that matter; however, she did have the ability to help create a far more detailed working profile. Raising her glass to her lips, she tilted her head to the side.
"To catching this copy-cat un-sub." She sighed and they continued their meal; the conversation moving away from the BAU.
"I was wondering when you might be free to join me on a weekend away at my cabin." Gideon's cabin was the one place he felt his happiest and there were very few whom he had ever invited up there— very few he ever shared his whole self with; he had always thought it to be far too revealing. Elle looked up from her plate and just beamed. "I realise that winter may not be the nicest time to go up."
"Jason, you act as if I'm unfamiliar with the concept of roughing it." She pushed her chair away from the table and began to clear away their dishes. "While I tidy up, feel free to take a look at my notes, maybe something will help you with your case." She made her way to the sink and began to rinse the dishes, then placed them in the dishwasher. He had been stealth like in his approach, and had managed to wrap her up within a warm embrace, which she easily melted into.
"Elle," a light kiss was placed on the back of her neck that sent a shiver through her, "I don't," and another kiss, "feel like," he turned her within his embrace, "work right now." He whispered and stole yet another kiss. She returned his butterfly like kisses with passion filled kisses of her own. Playing with the buttons on his shirt, they moved towards the bedroom.
Morning roused her from sleep and she felt the warmth of the body that still lay beside her. He hadn't risen as yet, had contented himself with watching her sleep. Knowing that he had a case to work, she moaned and threw the blanket and sheets aside— before getting out of bed, she kissed him tenderly.
"I'll make the coffee, will you have something to eat before you leave?" she inquired, cinching the tie of her navy blue satin housecoat. He watched her with a wide grin, checked the time and nodded. "There's shaving cream and a razor in the vanity." She added before leaving him to ready himself for another day. He ventured into the adjoining bath and closed the door behind.
He emerged with a fresh perspective and found Elle at the kitchen table reading the paper and drinking coffee.
"What's this?" he read the head line and cringed. "They get a story and run with it, don't they?" he sat and she let the paper fall to the table and they ate.
"Please take my notes with you." She watched as he took his plate to the sink and returned to table. He pressed his lips to the top of her head and reached over her shoulder for the notepad.
"Thank you. I'll see you again tonight?" she smiled and nodded. "Have a good day." He got his jacket and she walked him to the door, grabbing one last kiss before closing and locking it behind him.
The precinct was a buzz with officers discussing the various cases— more so their copy-cat, as once again over night the un-sub had struck. It was a university student who had stayed late with her research team and their professor to complete the preliminary work for a study they were conducting. As the news travelled around them, the media carrying on the loudest buzz— the team worked alongside the police, hoping that they would catch him before another young woman fell victim to the un-sub.
"Sir, I think you'll want to see this." Prentiss arrived waving a tape. Both Gideon and Hotchner looked her way and she popped the tape into a nearby VCR. Prentiss had procured the security tape from campus security and they had been lucky to have been able to follow their latest victim to their un-sub. "Do you think Garcia can use this to get us a better shot of the un-sub?"
"It's possible." Morgan said taking a good look at the couple on the screen. "It's really blurry." He grinned.
"What?"
"Garcia always loves a challenge." He added. "I'll call my girl and we'll have someone get that to Quantico." He flipped open his phone. "Hey doll, we need your magic touch." He said in his most flattering tone.
"Oh really?" he could hear the gentle keystrokes, like music in the background. "What are we talking about?" she reframed from her usual banter.
"Garcia?"
"Yes Morgan." She paused and turned her attention to one of her various monitors. She had the Winter's case up and was going through the plethora of reports concerning that un-sub. "What do you have for me?"
"Prentiss, being her ever so persuasive self got last night's surveillance tape from the university campus security." Morgan explained their situation.
"Not a problem. Once I get the tape, I'll have an actual face to put a name to." She turned to another monitor where the latest news cast was running.
"Thanks sweetie." He cooed and she perked up.
"No problem hot stuff." She paused for a moment. "The tape?" she inquired as she jotted a note on a hot pink Post-it.
"Is on the way." He said and tossed it towards Prentiss to take to Quantico. She caught it and literally flew out the door.
To Be Continued…