Retaliation (S5E11)
Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference - Alcoholics Anonymous p. 40-41
"We got him," said Rossi quietly into his cell, "and the girl's ok. He's still in transit, so all the paperwork needs doing when he gets here. It's gone ten o'clock already, I'm guessing we won't fly home until tomorrow morning."
"Good," replied Pip on the other end of the line. "I'll extend your hotel rooms. Means you can all try and get some sleep. I had to translate JJ's last email to Phillips, poor guy had no idea what she was trying to ask him for."
Rossi chuckled, then yawned. "It's been a long couple of days."
"Always is when there's a missing kid."
"What about you, when do you get to go home?" asked Rossi.
"Oh, I'll neaten up and fall out of here in an hour or so I guess, once I've had confirmation regarding your flight plan for the trip home," replied Pip airily. "I can't leave until Schrader is in local custody and I know you're all safe in your beds, but I'll kick Phillips and Griffin out as soon as I'm off the phone."
"Ok. See you in the morning."
"Get some sleep!" ordered Pip sternly.
Rossi smiled. "Yes ma'am."
"Don't call me ma'am!" Pip laughed and hung up, just as the news came through that Bunting was dead, Emily was injured, and Schrader had escaped with the help of a previously unknown accomplice. Rossi looked down at his cell, wondering if he ought to call Pip back and tell her not to let her team go home just yet.
He needn't have worried, JJ was on the phone immediately to let the office know they'd be staying in Lockport. Rossi looked down as his phone beeped in his hand, notifying him of a text message.
"Spoke too soon. Let me know if you need anything. We're working all the time you are. P."
Two hours later, Emily was back with them. She looked a little battered and bruised, and a lot pissed off. Morgan took her down the hall to try a cognitive interview, while the rest of them tried to reconcile the profile they'd generated with Schrader's actions. To find him, they'd have to start all over again.
2am rolled around with no progress. Rossi craved some of Pip's hot, strong morning coffee. Even just a mouthful. He was starting to consider asking for an IV drip so he could mainline his caffeine. Anything would be an improvement on trying to drink it.
Cop shop coffee was a breed all of its own, usually terrible. It came either cold, or so hot it could have been heated by thermo-nuclear fusion. Rossi had consumed a lot of bad coffee over the years, but the stuff in Lockport police station was…uniquely awful. Not only was it lukewarm and peculiarly gritty, Rossi was fairly confident he'd washed dishes in thicker at some point in his life. There was no milk, but that wasn't a reasonable reason for the bottom of the cup to be visible through the coffee. Coffee so weak you could read through it ought to be impossible, but somehow, they'd managed it.
Four hours and three pots of the vile stuff between them later, Rossi gave in and drove to the nearest coffee shop so the team could at least drink something hot that they didn't have to chew or pick out of their teeth. He threw four sugars into his cup in lieu of actual breakfast and drove back to the station with the team's order balanced on the passenger seat. He made the most of the privacy the Suburban offered and phoned Pip as he drove.
"Morning!" trilled Pip brightly. "What's up?" She sounded remarkably chirpy and energetic for not-quite 6am, even over speakerphone. "Two phone calls while you're away, should I be honoured or concerned? You need something? Anything? Whatever you need. I had Phillips extend your hotel rooms again, just in case, not any of you actually used them last night for anything other than to store your bags in…"
"Nothing's wrong," he reassured her. "I'm just doing a coffee run, the stuff they drink at the station here is dreadful. I think someone mixed filter coffee with instant in the pot. Until now, I've never had coffee I needed to strain before I could drink it. It's an experience I could have done without." Pip roared with laughter and Rossi smiled. At least someone was happy this morning.
"How are you managing on the crap they keep in the break room?" he asked.
"I dashed home about 3am and made myself a thermos of that new super strong Robusta I bought the other week, desperate measures and all that; it's heady stuff, I'll probably be awake for about a month." Pip managed that all in one breath and then giggled.
Rossi groaned with envy. At least that explained why she was quite so bouncy so early in the morning. "I could do with some of that."
"I'm sure. If I could pour it down the line to you, I would. I'll give you an emergency ration of it to go in your go-bag for next time. Now go on. Get back to work and find this lunatic so you can go to bed. I've got people here waiting with baited breath for me to boss them about."
Rossi laughed and hung up feeling rejuvenated, as if he'd absorbed some of Pip's industrial strength coffee via his ears.
Morgan did the caffeine run at 8am, none of them willing to drink a single drop more of the rubbish Lockport PD called coffee. By then, they'd all been awake for over twenty-four hours and the dark smudges under all their eyes were growing. No amount of coffee would solve that, nor the bone-deep weariness that came with it.
By 10am, Rossi felt like they were actually getting somewhere. Best laid plans were scuppered again once Schrader was dead. They'd found their man, but now there was a missing family to find.
And find them they did, although it took them all day. Everyone was exhausted, everyone was desperate to get home, but the whole team stood in the dank abandoned building to watch emotional reunion of the Muller family. Just basking in the love.
Rossi barely glanced up from his book when Hotch's cell rang as they were flying home. Everyone else was asleep, but despite being exhausted Rossi couldn't doze off. Unashamedly nosy, he strained his ears to listen as Hotch talked quietly on the phone.
"Hotchner…Hi…Yes, we're ok. Tired, but that's all." Hotch's eyes flicked over to where Emily was curled up, snoring lightly. "Yes, she's fine too." He smiled in response to something said. "Of course, I know how hard this was for everyone." Hotch stole a brief glance at Rossi, long enough to work out that he was listening. "You'll let him know?...Good…No, no problem at all…I will…You too." Hotch tucked his cell phone back into his jacket.
"You were listening." Hotch's quiet accusation came without malice or disapproval.
Rossi shrugged. "It's a small jet."
He pulled his cell from his pocket as it rang and glanced at the caller ID. Pip. Hotch just looked at him with a raised eyebrow as if he knew who was calling. On reflection, Rossi realised he probably did. The timing was too much of a coincidence, he had an idea it had been Pip who called Hotch only a moment before. He ducked into the galley area for some semblance of privacy.
"Hey. You ok?"
"Yes and no," said Pip. She sounded exasperated. "It's kinda long story, but I won't be there when you get back. I'm leaving now actually; I'm leaving Phillips in charge, he's going to do the paperwork with Agent Hotchner. I just wanted to let you know."
"What's wrong?"
"Did I mention it's a long story?" sniped Pip sharply, before she let out a deep sigh. "Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't take it out on you."
Rossi was used to fielding the worst of Pip's temper, same as she did for him. On the Pip Harker scale, that volley barely even registered against background noise.
"It's ok, Pip, just tell me," he said gently.
Pip sighed again. "I'm coming down off that bloody coffee and Griffin has developed the most disgusting cold. There's snot everywhere. On top of that, now I've got an errand to run tonight before I can go home and sleep."
"What errand?" He should be used to cryptic answers and half-truths by now, but Rossi was too tired to beat about the bush.
"A meeting."
"Well, I can hang around if you're still going to be in the building…"
"Not that sort."
"What other sort of…" Oh. Oh. Rossi stopped in mid-sentence as understanding rushed through him, rapidly followed by a thread of worry. Underneath the frustration, she sounded wary, and it was that wariness that had finally clued him in on what she was talking about. The NA. She was going to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting and she didn't want to broadcast it to whoever was left in the office by telling him outright over the phone.
"Oh. Ok. Ah, are you…is everything…that is, you're not…?" His extensive vocabulary had apparently abandoned him for the time being. Rossi didn't want to pressure her into telling him anything she didn't want to, nor shout out his concern like an idiot while in a small enclosed space with no privacy. In trying to achieve both things he'd managed neither and sounded like a complete twit into the bargain.
She'd been to a meeting only the previous week, her usual once-a-month habit. He couldn't imagine anything from the case would be a trigger strong enough to make her want to go back to the opiates or attend meetings more regularly. Pip was fairly open with him about her previous problem and had told him in detail about what she'd done when he asked, along with what to do if she ever relapsed. Some addicts suffered psychological cravings long after the physical ones had been dealt with. From what he could see, Pip was lucky; she didn't struggle with that. She'd got clean and stayed that way. For her, the meetings had been about making friends in a time when she had none. People, who as fellow addicts, would understand what she'd done and not judge her for it.
But he couldn't help being a little anxious.
"I'm fine," she reassured him. Rossi could hear the soothing smile and knew she'd picked up on his burst of concern for her. The effect was somewhat ruined by Griffin sneezing explosively in the background. Repeatedly.
"Hear that?" Pip said drily, raising her voice over the soggy sound effects. "Looks worse than it sounds, if you can believe that. You should hear him cough, sounds like someone throwing a bag of gravel at a wall. I'm going to tell him not to come in tomorrow, I can't think with that racket going on." Pip breathed a sigh of relief as Griffin fell silent.
"Oh, that's better," she sighed. "He's either hyperventilated and passed out or drowned in his own bodily fluids. Either is fine with me as long as he's quiet, I've got a stinking headache. Anyway, there's a new addition that needs escorting, that's all. Not usually my responsibility, but I'm standing in for someone out, um, sick. It's a last-minute thing, kinda an emergency."
So, the newbie's sponsor had fallen off the wagon and Pip was picking up the pieces, even though she was already worn out. Rossi held back the sigh. At least it wasn't just him she tidied up after, but he had to wonder how Pip had ever coped before she had him to do the same for her.
"After that," continued Pip, "I think I'm going to go home, fall flat on my face on my bed and pass out."
"Sounds very similar to what I'm going to do. Home, bed, sleep 'til Thursday."
Pip laughed. "It's already Thursday, you've lost a couple of days there somewhere. Not that I don't appreciate the sentiment. I'd much rather go straight home too, but duty calls. I think my entire life can be summed up as "well, that didn't go as fucking planned"." She groaned as Griffin started sneezing again. "Here we go again. I'm outa here. See you tomorrow."
"Good night Pip."
"Good night Dave."
