Oh man! I ran straight to my computer when I realized how late this chapter was, guys! So sorry! But I hope you like it just the same!
"Hotch?"
"Garcia. I need you to look someone up. We got the name of the guy who hired Nikolas."
"Okay, go. I'm ready."
"His name is Pazel. No last name. But we believe he's probably a schizophrenic. You can try looking in mental hospitals in a couple hour radius from here. Probably a history of violence. And he owns an apartment on Hope Street."
"Alright. While I set up the searches I can tell you what I've found about your friend Nikolas. He was born in a small town in Northern Wisconsin by the name of Nikolas Mills, a seemingly normal kid. A few teenage delinquency issues, but nothing major. The farthest record I have for him is a high school diploma, and that's where his trail runs cold. That's basically it. Nothing outstanding."
"Okay," Hotch said slowly, writing it all down and handing the note to Rossi.
There were a few moments where all Hotch could hear was the clicking of keys and Garcia mumbling under her breath. He was just about to suggest that she call back if she found something when she shrieked, "Aha! I've found him!"
Hotch set his phone on speaker and set it down on the table.
"Okay, he was a tricky guy to find, which is odd considering how uncommon the name Pazel is. I looked into the records of the apartment building and the name his apartment is listed under is Pazel Jones. That turned out to be fake, but I got a hit in a mental hospital three hours north of you.
"Pazel Harris, currently thirty one years old. He was committed in nineteen ninety seven as a paranoid schizophrenic after he went bonkers and attacked one of his neighbors. He was there for a week and a half before he managed to sneak out and has been off the grid since."
"That sounds like our guy," Rossi said. "Do you have a picture?"
"Yes, but it is over ten years old," Garcia said.
"And we don't know what he looks like," Prentiss said.
"Yes, but we know someone who does," Rossi said, casting his eyes to the interrogation room.
"Do we trust him though?" JJ asked.
"We have to," Hotch said. "Can you fax over the picture, Garcia?"
"Already done, sir."
"Alright, thank you," he said, grabbing his phone of the table and hurrying over to the fax machine, pulling out a picture of a young man with shaggy brown hair. He walked over to the interrogation room and flung the door open. "Is this Pazel?"
"Hello again, Agent Hotchner. How are you? You seem a bit tense."
"Is this Pazel?" Hotch repeated forcefully.
Nikolas stopped and looked at the picture, studying it. He remained silent, staring at it longer than was necessary. Just to get under my skin Hotch thought.
"You don't have anything to gain from lying to me," Hotch said.
"Fine," Nikolas said. "That looks like it could be him, but from several years ago."
Hotch turned to go without a word, but was stopped by Nikolas shouting after him. "Oh, but Agent Hotchner! Before you go. I want to come with you."
"Why should you?"
"Because. If I'm there, then Pazel will open the door. I'm probably the only one he'd open it for. And it would give you all an element of surprise. You'd catch him off guard."
Hotch stepped outside, and just as he'd hoped, the others were standing there, listening. He shut the door before Morgan spoke up.
"I don't know about this guy, Hotch. He could tip off this Pazel somehow."
"But having the element of surprise might be good," Prentiss said. "If this guy is really as loony as we think, who knows what he'd do."
"And who knows what he's got in that apartment," JJ added.
Hotch looked back into the interrogation room, watching Nikolas smirk at the two way mirror. "He just wants to come to be in the middle of things. And he wants to know what happens," Rossi said. "But I think he might be too valuable of a resource to leave behind."
"We'd just have to make sure he was taken away immediately," Morgan said, nodding.
"Alright," Hotch said, going back in to face Nikolas. "Fine. You can come. But you will get him to open the door and that is it. You can't tip him off or anything. Got it?"
"Of course," Nikolas said. "This ought to be a blast."
The fleet of vehicles quietly pulled up to the old and cracking parking lot, sirens off. From what they'd learned from Nikolas, Pazel kept the windows blacked out, so they would hopefully be able to make it up to the top floor undetected.
The team, strapped in bullet proof vests, headed into the building, a few police officers accompanying them. Morgan had ahold of Nikolas, who had also been given a bullet proof vest. Unfortunately, in Morgan's opinion.
They crept silently up the stairs, Nikolas leading the way. Morgan grudgingly uncuffed him before they reached the right door, backing off so that they couldn't be seen and leaving him to stand there alone. Hotch gave Nikolas a warning glare, holding his gun out in front of him, and Nikolas nodded in his direction before knocking.
"Nikolas?" they heard after a few seconds. "Is that you?"
"Yes, of course."
"How can I be sure?"
"Ask me the question."
"Alright. When does the duck fly?"
"It doesn't fly. It is dead."
They immediately heard the sound of locks being undone, which lasted for almost a full minute. They tensed up and adjusted their positions. Until the voice called, "Alright. Come in."
The police men immediately moved forward and pulled Nikolas away, and Morgan silently walked over to open the door and cautiously stepped through. He could see Pazel walking away from him, towards the only piece of furniture in the room.
"Pazel Harris," he said firmly. Pazel shrieked and spun around, pulling a knife on him and slashing out with it, catching Morgan's forearm. He immediately started to back away, still waving the knife around.
"Who are you people?" he screamed. "What are you doing here? Get out of my home!"
"Pazel Harris. We are the FBI. We're here to arrest you for setting up four murders, and two attempted murders. Put down your weapon."
The whole time , Pazel had been screeching, backing himself into a wall and sliding down to the floor. "No! Go away! You're not real, you won't take me, you can't hurt me, I won't let you!"
"We're not going to hurt you. Just put down the knife," Morgan said.
"No, no, you're lying, you're here to hurt me and make me tell you my secrets, but I won't tell you, I won't let you get the chance."
"Pazel, listen," JJ said, stepping forward. She put her gun back in her belt holster. "Look, I've put away my gun. I can't hurt you, okay?"
She attempted to walk closer, but Pazel shouted louder. "No! Stay away from me, you can't hurt me, I won't let you, I won't, I can't let you, I have to stop you!"
Before any of them could react, he took the knife and cut a deep gash in his own throat. The knife clattered to the floor and blood began to trickle down his neck, staining the dirty white shirt he wore dark red. JJ started forwards as if to try to stop the bleeding and attempt to save him, but she fell back quickly, realizing it was far too late.
They slowly put away their guns, and for the first time they really looked around at the room they were in, noticing the newspaper covered walls, the definite lack of furniture, and the rank smell. Behind them, they could hear Nikolas laughing. "That poor bastard. He went and killed himself. He was a smart man, wasn't he?" His voice grew fainter as he was led down the hall.
They took one last look at Pazel, his eyes wide open and staring at them, before they walked back out of the dirty apartment, slightly dazed.
"At least it's over," JJ said as she stepped out into the bright sun. The rest of them nodded, as she'd voiced exactly what they'd been thinking.
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