Chapter 54
St. Martin's Episcopal Church
Woodley Park
Washington DC
Elizabeth
Even though it was not yet dawn, Elizabeth got out of bed, got herself fully dressed and went across the street to open the church. Later she would have no memory of any of it, of putting on her shoes or fixing her hair or lighting the candles in the sanctuary. All she would remember of that long, impossible time was the thoughts going through her head.
It's not fair. Lord, it's not fair. I've given everything to You. I've dedicated my life to You. He's dedicated his life to doing Your work. So why then? Why? Why us? Why now? You have to bring him back to me Lord, You have to. Oh please bring him back to me. Please.
She settled in the front pew, holding herself, rocking gently, praying with all of her heart and soul and being, over and over. Please keep him safe; please bring him back to me. Oh please Lord, oh please.
That was where Harry found her. He settled in next to her and pulled her in to his side. "Shh now, it will be all right. Agent Morgan told me what has happened. We will pray for him. Come now."
A few minutes later Thelma walked in, caught Harry's eye, nodded her understanding, and headed for the phone in her office.
A few moments more and someone touched Harry on the shoulder. He turned to find Pastor Dean and a group of people from Northwest Community church. "We're here to pray with you." Pastor Dean said, as they settled in the pews behind them.
And so it began.
Abandoned mine
Oregon
Spencer
Agony.
Sheer agony.
That was the only way he could describe it. It was somewhat ironic that these new burns hurt more than the one on his arm because they were actually shallower, more superficial. Not that it would matter, they would still scar. And sitting here drenched in the stink of vinegar and lye and his own charred flesh, restrained in a chair with an unstable Unsub nearby, and in utter agony from every hint of draft that brushed the now raw skin of his neck, he ought to be in mortal terror as well. But the terror that he had felt moments ago when the Unsub swabbed down his neck, when he donned gloves and mixed up a thick paste, when he started spreading it over his skin, all the while muttering that she wouldn't think him so pretty anymore, so tasty anymore, had pushed him right past the point where he could no longer be afraid.
He wasn't afraid.
He wasn't.
He was angry.
No, correct that. He was pissed.
The quiet, analytical side of his brain, the side that never shut down, noticed that the Unsub appeared to be showing signs of Dissociative Identity Disorder, or a split personality. It was not as complete as it had been for Tobias or for Adam, but it appeared that one personality was deeply angry, and taking some kind of wrong out on him and on Ashley. The other was calmer, more nurturing, and probably didn't quite know what he was doing; only that he was doing it and it was bad. The calmer side was the one responsible for the bandaging, and since the Unsub had yet to switch over he was still stuck here, in the chair, trying hard not to move at all so as not to torment the traumatized nerves, or expose himself to an infection.
The other side, the side of his mind that had just been creeping out into the light, the side that lived in this moment and no other, was about ready to rip someone's head off. It's not fair, he thought, this is just not fair! I finally let go of my fear enough to be touched just there, to accept that much from the woman I love, and now that's taken away. That is just bloody well not fair!
He looked up as the Unsub came back into view. This appeared to be the calmer one, the one who came with a tray of bandages and supplies. A profile is your best weapon, isn't that what Jason always said? "Thank you." Spencer managed to whisper between waves of pain. "Thank you for taking care of us. This really hurts." Appeal to the calmer, nurturing side, see if you can get them to ally with you. In theory that ought to keep that side in control longer.
"I know." The Unsub murmured back. "I am so sorry about this."
"It's all right. I understand. Why don't you just let us go? Why don't…why don't you just let Ashley here go and...and we'll make it all right. Somehow we'll make it right."
"I can't do that. I'm sorry." The Unsub had been laying out his supplies, now he sterilized his hands and put on fresh gloves and took a look at the damage he had caused, examining the burns that now covered the sides of Spencer's neck from ears to shoulder.
"Why not?"
"If you go to the police I'll lose."
"You'll lose? What will you lose?"
"Hang on, this is going to hurt." He had laid some absorbent cloth over Spencer's right shoulder. Now he picked up a bottle of sterile water, cracked the seal, and began to clean the wounds.
Spencer couldn't even scream as the pain made everything go white.
St. Martin's Episcopal Church
Woodley Park
Washington DC
In ones and twos and threes people began to find their way to the small church. Seniors from the neighborhood came and stayed most of the day. Doctors, nurses and staff from Georgetown hospital came before and after their shifts. Students and faculty from Georgetown, George Washington and the other universities in the area skipped or canceled classes to come sit for a while. People from St. Martin's and Northwest Community and eventually other churches came to pray as word spread. A group of Roman Catholic Nuns who also volunteered at Second Harvest took up their rosaries; taking turns to be sure one of them was always on her knees. Teachers from the nearest elementary school came at the end of the day, and grateful parents came and brought their children. Cops who had only ever seen each other at a certain morning meeting came and brought others from their departments, some stopping by for a few minutes break while on patrol, some longer. Homeless people from the park across the street came and stayed because it was warm and they wanted to help. Members of the GLBT community who attended one of the few churches where they ever found acceptance came to offer support to those who had supported them. The newly born and the newly wed and the newly bereaved, in ones and twos and threes they filed into the small church and sat for a time to pray.
Eventually Nanny came in, took up her place on Elizabeth's other side. Sam and Danny drove 300 miles in a single shot to sit in the pew behind her. Rabbi Shulman took up a corner where he was joined by others from the Jewish community. Bobby from New York sent word that he would be praying from there, as would as many of the NYPD as he could rally, but the doctor didn't want Sharon to fly. Thelma stood in the back and somehow kept everything going.
Thus, when a slender man with kindly blue eyes and little boy in his arms came up to the front pew that evening no one was truly surprised. It was standing room only in there by now, and the silent crowd had overflowed into the gardens in front of the church. But they were all silent, so when he spoke up it was somewhat shocking. "'Scuse me," he said in a slow southern drawl with a bit of Cajun in it. "I know this is a bad time to meet you and all, but I'm, um, Will. Will LaMontagne, this is Henry."
It took a moment, but eventually Elizabeth's reddened, tear-damp eyes met his, "Spencer's godson?"
"Yeah, that's right. Morgan asked me to come check when you didn't answer your phone."
She slid over to make space for him in the pew and held out her arms for the boy. He put the uncomplaining Henry in her arms, but then stood up. "I got to do one thing first." He stood in the front of the church and opened his cell phone. "You are not going to believe this." He said to the person who answered, and then held it up as he took a short video, slowly turning to take in the entire crowd.
Sheriff's substation parking lot
Cave Junction, OR
Morgan
"Thanks man." Morgan said to Will, and then he gave a satisfied nod at the church full of people, all out to pray for his brother. Now we can beat the damn devil, he thought, now he can't win.
Abandoned mine
Oregon
It was hot in the desert. The sky was a bowl of liquid heat poured out over the world. The old football stadium retained that heat, concentrated it, and raised it to the level of a furnace.
They were laughing.
Trent and his friends were standing in front of the chair and they were laughing. "I told you I'd hurt you if you ever tried to get close to a girl." Trent yelled at him. "Now look what you made me do."
"No!" Spencer yelled at him. Somehow, from somewhere he found the strength, broke the restraints, stood up, and faced his old nemesis head on. "No! I reject you! I reject the fear of you! You are insignificant in my life! You are nothing but a shadow of a memory that can no longer hurt me! If I'm going to be afraid of something it's going to be the real monsters that are out there, not you! You mean nothing to me! When I get out of this, and I will get out of this, I am going to go back home to a life of pleasure and beauty and the woman I love and I am not going to be ashamed or afraid ever again! I am going to continue to stop the monsters out there and you are not going to stop me from doing any of it! I am going to savor every moment of the life I've been given and you…you can just go to hell!"
With that, Trent and his friends disappeared.
It was hot in the desert. The sky was a perfect cerulean blue. The scrub and earth went on and on and finally met where the mountains reached up to the sky. The breeze was a gentle, warm caress full of love and power. He turned when he felt familiar arms go around his waist, turned and wrapped his arms around familiar shoulders, and buried his face in silken, soft curls.
"Don't be afraid." Elizabeth murmured to him. "You're no longer alone."
