Broken
Chapter 48
In the end, it required some finessing from the BAU's section chief, but the hierarchy of the FBI decided they were willing to back up their agency's looking into possible malfeasance within another. The FBI was, after all, the nation's last stand against internal treachery. After that, things moved quickly, and the team could virtually hear the tumblers falling into place.
The NSA had blown it with Peter Lewis, their policy of keeping company with the nation's most gifted mathematical geniuses having backfired on them. Once they'd realized that, they'd tried to cover it up. But Axelrod's sharing of information with the BAU had subverted that plan, and the NSA, under the corporate 'the CEO is always right' leadership style of William Booker, had tried another tack. They'd simply erased all evidence of having had anything to do with the felon known as Mr. Scratch. Without proof, the FBI hadn't been able to pursue an investigation into the partner government agency, and it seemed as though the NSA had dodged a bullet. Until 'The Storm'.
Peter Lewis' escape from prison had done more than put the public at risk. To William Booker's mind, the real threat had been to the integrity of the NSA's reputation and, by extension, his own. Political ambition prevented him from acknowledging the failure of his leadership. Instead, he'd allowed himself to be coerced into providing Scratch with a means to search the BAU personnel files. Booker had remained silent as Scratch had used that information to threaten the family of Aaron Hotchner, and then seized upon an opportunity in the life circumstance of Spencer Reid.
Confronted with proof of his treachery, Booker had bargained his way out of a serious penalty, making concessions and providing evidence of collusion with the warden at Milburn, who had, in turn, traded a lesser charge for giving up the prison guard who'd assisted Wilkins and who'd given Reid's journal to Scratch.
Mateo Cruz had been only too happy at the chance to restore the sullied reputation of one of his own by proving that he'd been set up via the NSA. As he concluded his meeting with Reid and Emily Prentiss, Cruz placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder.
"That newspaper retraction from a few months ago might have been on page fifteen. But this….this deserves a headline, my friend. If only I could offer it to you."
Reid blushed, embarrassed. "I understand. It wouldn't exactly inspire confidence in our public institutions if people knew how easy it was to compromise them."
"You're a better man than I am, Spencer Reid. I don't think I could keep my head if I thought all of the punishments would be accomplished sub rosa. But that's how the wheels of justice turn in the upper echelons."
Emily snorted. "You mean 'that's how the wheels of justice fall off their axles'. I can't believe Booker is going to get away with a simple agreement to resign."
"And to not hold any other government position, nor to run for public office," corrected Cruz. "And, don't forget, the second prison guard will be charged with accessory to several crimes, including the kidnapping of Mrs. Reid. And the warden has been charged with infringing on a prisoner's rights, by not putting Agent Reid into protective custody."
"What will happen to Scratch?" asked Reid.
Emily knew. "He'll return to federal prison pending trial on the kidnappings. He's already got a life term, but if we're lucky, he'll lose the possibility of parole. That will keep him locked up for the rest of his miserable life."
The idea of a trial didn't sit well with Reid, who didn't want those he cared about put through anything further because of the one, sick individual.
"Are we all through here? There's something I need to do."
"Ah, Dr. Reid. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
The felon's voice carried the tone of malevolent delight that Reid had come to despise.
"I want you to plead guilty."
Scratch narrowed his eyes in surprise.
"What?"
"You heard me. I want you to forego a trial, and plead guilty."
"Really. I see. I suppose you don't want to put poor Clare and young Henry through having to testify. I don't know, Dr. Reid. I was so looking forward to seeing them again. It would be one of the few pleasures I have left in life, you see, watching them as they relive our time together, listening to them as they tell the story of our little party. Why would I want to miss that?"
Reid managed to control his anger, but only barely.
"What will it take?"
"Oh, are we bargaining now? Well, if it's that important to you. Hmm, let me see..."
Long fingers tapping against one another.
"Oh, I've got it! It would be quite a sacrifice on my part, don't you think, if I were to forego the pleasure of watching them relive their ordeal in the courtroom? I would need a fitting substitute. I think...yes! I think I would like the original experience captured for posterity."
"What does that mean?"
"I want you to draw it for me, Dr. Reid. Just like you did that lovely little scene of you visiting a park with another man's wife and children."
"That wasn't…." Annoyed and getting increasingly riled.
"Oh, yes, I know. It was all very innocent, wasn't it? Just like you are. Well, maybe the drawing I want is a bit less …. innocent, shall we say? But it's fair compensation for your request. I'll spend my life in prison regardless. But it would be so very nice to spend it with a remembrance of my last little project. I do have a soft spot for children, and mothers."
Reid leaned across the table, lowering his voice to an angry whisper.
"You're a bastard, Peter Lewis. And I doubt you have a soft spot for anyone but yourself. But, if it will spare the people I love some anguish, I'll give you what you're asking for. After you plead out."
Scratch clapped his long fingers together in glee. "Oh, lovely! What an unexpected surprise!"
A week later, Reid returned from what he hoped would be his last visit to the federal prison. Dropping his messenger bag on his desk, he fell into his chair and leaned back, feet up, eyes closed, enjoying the lack of stimulus. He felt as though he was floating, relieved of a stifling weight, able to breathe freely for the first time in a very long time.
He might have dozed off in that position, or simply gone into a vegetative state. All he knew was that he roused to the aroma of coffee, wafting from right under his nose.
Reid blinked his eyes open to see the smiling face of his best friend, holding two steaming mugs.
"Thought you could use some."
He brought himself upright, and gratefully accepted the mug, amended to his most recent taste. When JJ held up an additional sugar packet, he declined.
"Leveling off at three, are you?"
He smiled. "I think my dentist will appreciate it. Besides, I have much more sophisticated taste now."
She laughed. "Right. Wasn't that you eating dinosaur chicken nuggets with the boys the other night?"
"I meant, in coffee."
JJ grinned at him. "It feels good to be able to laugh, doesn't it? It seems like it's been forever."
"It has been a long time. But I think the worst is behind us."
JJ agreed. "Did you hear? Peter Lewis took a 'guilty' plea. There won't be a trial, thank God. I was praying that would happen. The last thing I wanted was for Henry to have to face him again at trial."
"Little man's been through enough. There was no way I was going to let him go through more."
JJ narrowed her eyes at him. "What does that mean? Did you have something to do with the plea?"
Reid looked around at the busy bullpen, and decided it was best to take their conversation elsewhere. He motioned JJ upstairs, to the conference room. Once he closed the door behind them, she pushed him on it.
"All right, something's obviously up. What happened? What did you do?"
Reid responded to the tone of caution in her voice.
"Nothing illegal. I just… I made a deal with the devil, I guess you could say."
Eyes wide, JJ demanded to know.
"Spence, are you saying it was you who got him to plead out? How?"
"I just made a bargain with him. I didn't want any of you having to relive what he'd done to you…not Henry, not Clare…and not you. He told me what he wanted, and I gave it to him."
"What could you possibly have had that he would want?"
"A memory. He wanted me to preserve the moment in the laundromat, by drawing it for him."
JJ reacted to the strange, sick symmetry of Scratch having been tripped up by the drawing Reid had done of her, and his demand for the new one.
"I don't think I like the idea of him looking at me, even if it's only a sketch."
Reid grinned. "Don't worry. He won't be."
"What does that mean?"
"It means he forgot how he lost in the laundromat. He forgot I'm a magician."
JJ's mouth fell open, in an amused gape. "Disappearing ink?"
"Special formula. Lasts a full day."
Laughing, JJ threw her arms around her best friend. "Oh, I love you, Spencer Reid!"
He accepted the hug, and drew her closer. "I love you too, Jennifer Jareau. I don't think this day would have come, if not for you. But I think it's over. I mean, I really think it's over."
They leaned back, still in each other's arms.
"It does feel that way, doesn't it? Like we're emerging from some long, terrible nightmare. Like maybe things can get back to normal again."
"A new normal, maybe. I don't know that things will ever be the same again."
She conceded it. "I know. You can't go through what you went through and emerge unchanged. But you're still Spencer Reid. You're still my best friend. You're still the boys' godfather. You can still love who you love. And you can still let us love you."
Remembering a time, shortly after Milburn, when she feared he would not.
"I am, all of those things, and I do love all of you. My life is different now, but I guess that was inevitable no matter what happened. Look at Mom. Even though it's for a difficult reason, I'm lucky to have her nearby, for however long I have her."
"She loves seeing you, period. But she especially loves seeing you happy."
He nodded. "I'm glad she's had the chance to get to know my friends better. And I'll be forever grateful for the care you took of her, when I couldn't."
"It was my privilege, Spence. You're my family. I couldn't have done anything else."
He squeezed her close once more, and then released her.
"I need to go. Clare's got a new IP case she wants me to look at, and then we're going to dinner."
JJ smiled approvingly. "Another difference." Getting a return grin from him. "Tell her I said 'hi'. And maybe we can set up a time for brunch again."
"I will. See you in the morning."
She watched from the window of the conference room as he packed his messenger bag, and hurried out the door, and toward Clare. Then she smiled to herself.
I don't think the dentist has anything to do with those three packets, Spence. I think you've found another way to sweeten your life.
The landscape of northern Virginia blew by him as Reid looked out the window of the train. Despite the feeling of lightness he'd felt earlier, despite what he'd told JJ, his mind went back to the ordeal he'd suffered a few nights ago.
He would comply with his end of the bargain, but he wasn't about to let Scratch see things as he'd seen them that night in the laundromat. The fear, the horror, the helplessness of three people he loved so deeply was indelibly etched into his mind. He would never forget it, but nor would he reveal it to the felon. So he'd decided to mute the expressions in the drawing. But the process of creating it had still required him to revisit that time, and the excruciating details that he would refuse to portray.
In the laundromat, he'd been hyper-focused. Single-minded, intent on saving them, unwilling to permit a single stray thought to intrude on his purpose. But the revisiting of it had been a completely different experience for him. As he'd sketched the scene, he'd felt the fear he hadn't allowed himself to feel in the moment. The anger, the resentment of having been put into that position. Briefly, he'd felt the temptation to regress to his much younger self, the one that had found the world a treacherous place, and relationships things to be avoided, lest they become sources of pain.
But he was no longer that younger self. He'd grown, and matured, and changed in ways too many to articulate. Still, some things remained the same. He still found the world to be a treacherous place. He still found relationships challenging. But he also found them to be sources of fullness, and hope, and healing. Reasons for living. It was true his life would be much less complicated without his mother in it, nor JJ and the boys, nor any of his teammates and friends. Nor Clare. But he also knew that his life would be much lesser, period, without the relationships he'd come to treasure.
So he'd carried out his part of the bargain, sketching those he loved for a man he hated, taking pleasure in knowing that their expressions would dissolve before Scratch's eyes, his final act of protection.
As the train drew near to DC, Reid's mood elevated with the thought of spending the rest of the day with Clare. Over the past few weeks, as he'd found himself wanting to know her more and more deeply, he'd been making his way through the books on her bookshelves. The back row, the deep row, behind the law books. The row where the real Clare lived.
He'd learned much about her, in the things that she treasured. But he'd also learned something about himself. Of all that he'd read, a single paragraph had stood out to him, as though the author had been speaking directly to him. As though she'd known the events of his life, and his frailties. As though she'd known he was on the brink of some huge change. He'd seen her wisdom, and decided to follow her advice.
His eidetic memory brought it back to him, word for word.
"Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won't either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up." **
FINIS
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** Louise Erdrich, The Painted Drum
A.N. When I started this story, I thought it would be finished by the time we started season 13 (that's the one after the prison arc). Now we're in the middle of season 14. So much for what I know, but that's what happens when one's writing time shrinks and stories grow. Thanks to all who have hung in there to the end, and especially to the few who have been so generous in sharing their reactions. Special thanks to Spygoose for the Erdrich quote at the end. It was perfect!
There's a lot of story left untold here, which means this universe is ripe for revisiting. But, for now, onward. And Happy New Year!
