Note: This was co-authored with the amazingly awesome terriblycontrite!

Chapter 20

Progression and Retrogression

Kate is the only person in the bullpen when Dave comes looking for her. Alone at her desk, she appears to be concentrating on what she's reading, but Dave isn't fooled. He's sure her sudden interest in expense reports is an avoidance strategy, rather than a career change.

"Kate, join me." He says jovially, as he approaches her desk and perches on the edge. "I'm on my way to the conference room to join the others. It's high time we all turn our attention to the Amelia Porter case and how we can help from here."

Without looking up Kate replies warily.

"Dave I would like to help but let's be honest, I won't be welcome."

Dave expected this, but they will never make things right with the team by brooding in separate rooms. They need to set aside their personal issues and look at the bigger picture, which for them, means solving cases.

"You are a member of the team. As a team we are going to formulate a plan, and therefore you need to be present"

"Look Dave, I appreciate what you're doing but I'm fine here. Working on my paperwork." It is more of a plea than a statement. Kate wants to agree with his logic, but she knows better; at best it will be a cold reception in the conference room.

"That may be, but Amelia Porter takes priority over your paperwork and your comfort." Dave insists, firmly but not unkindly. "The others will meet us there."

Kate stays seated, her demeanor changing to reflect all the hard feelings she's holding onto. She's not keen on giving them another chance to interrogate and reject her.

"They want someone to blame, and what happened was not all on me Dave! I'm getting tired of apologizing." She insists.

"It's not you and them, Kate." Dave sighs, shifting to face her directly. "It's us. Just us as a team. We are strongest together and it will take all of us to get Aaron and Reid back home."

Dave is not an ignorant man and he is not without concerns about the team dynamic, and the harsh words that have been thrown around. Nor is he under any illusion that Kate is wrong. He wouldn't be a very good profiler if he missed how angry Derek is, or how hesitant JJ is to make a move that isn't loyal to Reid, or how desperate Garcia is to find a fix. But he is also aware that Kate has one foot out the door and that is not a solution. Stay or go there will be an effect on everyone, there will be lingering slights and unresolved feelings that will distract from the task at hand, and they cannot afford distraction now.

Kate hasn't responded, but she does lean back in her chair to study him. She looks exhausted, he feels exhausted but now is the time to rally. They are the best and most effective team in the BAU, and they need to start acting like it.

"So, my going with you isn't just rubbing salt in everyone's wounds?" Kate asks. He can see the hurt in her eyes. "I would be just as thrilled as them to finish the Amelia Porter case, to have her put away where she can't do any more harm. I'm just as shaken by what happened to Reid as they are! But I'm the only one who can't show it, because they think it's my fault. And yours too, Dave! So im asking again if you're sure we will be welcome?"

"It's a fair question, Kate." Dave concedes reaching over to place a hand on her crossed arms. "Maybe we won't be, but I'm confident in one thing and that is that the team, the whole team, wants to solve this case and no one will sabotage our chances of doing that."

Kate's lips form a thin line as she takes that in, nodding finally. "Did you know they're already working on it? Where do you think they all are?"

Dave hadn't known that, but their goal is the same as his, so without missing a beat he pulls Kate to her feet.

"All the more reason for us to get going then." He replies firmly. "Now come on, time waits for no man."

Derek was unenthusiastic about tracking Rossi and Callahan down to include them, but Garcia had given him her disappointed look, complete with disapproving frown. He hates when she does that, and knowing she wants peace and everyone to get along, he concedes. He doesn't truly think peace is an option without some truth from Rossi but getting Amelia takes precedence over the rift, and in any case Derek can't refuse Penelope after making her cry.

It takes some time to assemble everyone but its less than an hour before they are ready to roll, lunch ordered and on the conference table in front of them, Penelope muttering under her breath about the quality of technology the FBI can afford versus what they supply.

Complaints aside, in minutes she is pulling up the slightly blurry, zoomed in photo of Amelia on the large screen and smiling triumphantly at her expectant audience.

"In my spare time, my sleep time, and in addition to any official FBI work," Penelope starts, with a sidelong look at Dave, who holds his hands up in mock surrender, "I have been delving deep and deeper still to track Amelia Porter on her flight from justice, and shed some light on how she passed the time."

Penelope pulls a face at the last sentence, as she turns to point at the picture of Amelia, extracted from the larger group shot of the track meet teams. Appearing as just another face in the crowd Amelia gives nothing away with her stance and body language. She looks to be at ease watching the proceedings without a care in the world. Would she have cared if she knew she was in the photo? Derek wasn't sure.

"I struck out on almost every front, credit cards, social media, DMV records…truly the woman went invisible!" Penelope is saying, "but, this photo you see on my screen, and also on your tablets if you brought them, is Amelia Porter, at a high school track meet, in the city of Fort Smith, in the North West Territories of Canada, in the year 2006!"

Pausing to catch her breath and allow everyone in the room to get up to speed, Garcia waits for the inevitable questions. She gives Derek a smile as her eyes fall to him, and he smiles back reassuringly. Her information is good, and she is the only one of them to make any progress on this case so far. As always, Derek is impressed by her ability to find a needle in a haystack.

Across the table Dave is squinting at the large screen, having not brought his tablet. Derek doesn't miss the fact that they are still divided, Dave and Kate on one side, JJ and himself on the other. Penelope has remained the most neutral party throughout with her love conquers all philosophy, frowning even now at the controlled tension in the room.

"How can you be sure it's her?" Dave asks bluntly, and Derek bristles but Penelope is unfazed.

"The best facial recognition software FBI money can buy, and the best they can buy is the best there is." Penelope is quick to respond having been ready for that question.

"I'm impressed, Penelope." JJ says eyes on her tablet. "Really, this is great. It's a place to start, but I get the impression there's more?"

"Sure is!" Garcia flips to the next picture, this one the zoomed-out photo of the whole track team. "Now bear with me before passing judgement, my lovelies." She reaches up to point to a skinny blond kid, not one of the medal winners, but in the foreground with the rest of his team. He is crammed into the back of the group wearing green and gold uniforms, and he is not smiling.

"This is Ryan August, and sadly he committed suicide not long after this track meet took place. Now, his parents described him as introverted, socially awkward, suffering from depression, and admit he had talked of suicide. Sounds clear cut, I know, but they also mentioned a mystery woman that Ryan had started dating not long before his…well demise. They never met her, never laid eyes on her in fact, but they said for a time their son was happy. Like a different person, his mom told the local police. She said she was glad she got to see him smiling one last time before…" Penelope informs the room, choking up on the last sentence and accepting the tissue Derek hands her.

Kate speaks up next, lifting her gaze from the tablet in her hands, after leaving reasonable time for the somber news to settle.

"You think the mystery woman was Amelia," she acknowledges slowly. "And that she had something to do with this boy's death? Why the connection?"

"Well," Derek cuts in, directing a hard look at Kate. "Ryan was seventeen, same as Benton was when he hooked up with Amelia. Plus, they were both loners with mental health issues. Easy prey for her."

Kate looks apprehensive but she speaks up again. "Yes, but that's where the similarities end. Benton wasn't a suicidal youth that Amelia picked out to prey on, it was a totally different dynamic. Benton had a terrible childhood and was likely hell bent on revenge even before Amelia entered into things. She may have encouraged him, even been a driving force, but Benton was suffering from psychosis in his own right, Derek. He was more sinister than a sad kid having trouble fitting in, he was primed and ready to buy what Amelia was selling. Whatever her motives, I doubt she's just a sucker for sad kids who need a friend."

"She's a narcissist, Kate, so he would fulfill her need for attention, bolster her ego and he wouldn't be likely to talk if he was infatuated with her." Derek counters. "You said it yourself, we don't know what motivated her to start a relationship with Benton, or to help him kill Miriam. We can't rule anything out with our current profile, we need more, and this is a huge coincidence."

"Is it?" Kate questions, leaning forward in her chair. "They're two people in the same city, that's about it as far as I can see."

"A city with a population of only two thousand, Kate!" Derek fires back.

"Regardless!" JJ interrupts loudly, steering the conversation back to the task at hand. "It's a good lead Kate. This is a picture of Amelia, and that's big. Someone in that little town has got to have known her and be able to give us an alias to work with."

Kate sits back, pressing her lips together, opting to say nothing more.

"So, let's make a plan. Where do we go from here?" Dave cuts in, looking around the table at everyone in turn, trying to forge ahead. "And who wants to visit the Canadian North in winter?"

Penelope clears her throat from where she is still standing looking unsure of herself. It bugs the hell out of Derek that this case has even Garcia doubting herself, and it rankles that it was Kate questioning her information, but before he can say anything she straightens her shoulders, adjusts her fairy themed cardigan and answers Dave with confidence.

"I would rather avoid the Canadian North if I can and I have lots of other information to sift through to see what shakes out. Police reports, validating sightings, security footage and so on. I would like to make that my focus without distractions while we don't have another case." Garcia states firmly, and Derek knows how fed up she is with being pulled away from her work on the Amelia Porter case for other FBI business. He knows that Penelope believes all the infighting and upset will go away if they find Amelia; that Reid will be ok, Hotch will come back, and things will go back to normal. That's what motivates her, and while its admirable, Derek isn't sure things will ever be exactly the same.

"Absolutely, my lady." Rossi answers, getting to his feet and grabbing his suit jacket from the back of his chair. "Until I hear otherwise from Hotch or Cruz this is our only case, and we are pouring all of resources into it. Now let's divide up the work. Garcia?"

"Some of you could look into suicides that fit the same criteria as Ryan August. Stick to the cities where Amelia Porter was sighted. It may be a long shot, but I think it's worthwhile, especially if we identify a pattern." She nods to Kate as she says it." "There is so much paper to go through, I could use help whittling it down too."

"I can contact the locals in Fort Smith and arrange to fly out tonight." JJ offers, sliding her tablet into its case. "If Derek wants to help Penelope, Kate and I can head to Canada."

"Sounds good," Dave agrees, ready to breeze out of the room. "I will check in with Aaron, update him and see where they're at. I will also keep Cruz off our back in case he has designs on our time. Excellent work Garcia, you have given us purpose. Everyone, work diligently and check in often."

If Hotch had been expecting reassurance from the hospital visit he didn't get it. First it was the vascular surgeon voicing his concerns about the slow healing of Spencer's leg, indicators of arterial graft failure and the possible need for further surgery. Next, the general surgeon gave a gloomy rundown on nerve damage in Spencer's neck and shoulder, admitting that it was likely more extensive than he had originally hoped. The physiotherapist joined them to say she had expected more progress, that she did not think Spencer was keeping up with the exercises and should reconsider a rehab facility. This at least garnered a response from the younger agent, who up until that point, had been stubbornly silent, refusing to participate in a discussion.

Spencer sat suddenly straight and turned a panicked gaze on Hotch.

"No, that's not an option!" He practically shouted, eyes never leaving Hotch. "Right? We talked about me going home with you. As soon as we wrap up the case right?"

Reaching out to put a hand on Spencer's shoulder, Hotch quickly assured the doctors that that wouldn't be necessary. Even as he said it, he wondered if it was true though. He would be lying if he said he wasn't worried, or that he understood Spencer's motives for attempting to hide his pain and jeopardize his recovery.

They finished the appointment with Spencer denying that he was having any trouble, rejecting the idea of a sling for his arm, and questioning the validity of physiotherapy as a practice in general.

Now, back at the SUV waiting for Spencer to climb in the truck, Hotch's concern is only growing. He can see that Spencer is struggling, all he wants to do is help, but he's losing patience. He has been nothing but understanding since the hospital, he has facilitated Spencer's desire to work the case, stayed in cursed Salt Lake City to make it possible and negotiated a truce with his boss who was demanding their presence back home; he does not deserve to be stonewalled and he wishes he knew Spencer's reasons for shutting him out.

"You know, I can lift you in if you're having trouble." Hotch offers with more edge to his voice than he intended. It's a legitimate offer that he hopes might provoke an honest response from Spencer.

He is rewarded with a glare, but Spencer remains tight lipped, shoulders tense, clutching the door as if he doesn't have the strength to stand without it. Hotch suspects he might not. It has been a long day and they could both use some rest.

"I just need a minute. Are we in that big of a hurry?" Spencer answers in a strained voice.

Hotch crosses his arms and leans against the side of the truck. "No rush but I'm curious what the problem is. You just told the doctor you were fine, and that poor physiotherapist that she wasted 5 years in school. Forgive me, but this, right now, doesn't look fine Spencer."

Hotch can see Spencer suck in his breath, trying to formulate a response. He's angry, Hotch can see that, at who he isn't sure. The doctors, Amelia, himself, fate…all of the above maybe. Being mad is one thing, pretending you're not can be damaging. Not for the first time he wishes that JJ or Garcia were here to force Spencer to talk, because Hotch feels like a hypocrite preaching about the dangers of internalizing your emotions.

Hotch knows he should just insist on putting Spencer in the truck because standing in the parking lot is a pointless waste of time, but he holds off. He wants Spencer to ask, to know he can count on him. Likewise, he wants to know that Spencer wants the help is offering.

It takes a while but finally Spencer gives in.

"I need you to…can you just come here?" Spencer questions now, subdued, and likely as ready as Hotch is to get out of here.

Suppressing a sigh that he does not want to be misconstrued as reluctance on his part, Hotch steps up behind Spencer, lifting his injured leg carefully, and bracing him as he pulls himself up into his seat. He waits for him to situate himself, pretending he doesn't see the drawn look on his face or hear the grimace as he shifts so that Hotch can shut his door.

Moving around to the driver's side Hotch thinks tiredly that it is already late afternoon, Spencer is exhausted, they are getting nowhere, and more than ever they need to talk.

The shower was providing both a much-needed reprieve for Hotch from Spencer's sullen silence, and an opportunity to organize his thoughts. He allows the too hot water to cascade over his shoulders easing some of the tension from the day, the week…hell the last few weeks. So much has happened, Spencer's close call, the Amelia Porter case blowing up, the team leaving to go home, that he has had no time to process how he feels about any of it.

The truth is he has been distracted by thoughts of George Foyet, comparing him to Amelia, and envisioning what will happen to Spencer if he refuses to let this case go. Hotch lost his wife to Foyet, but before that he lost just about everything, contact with his son, his peace of mind, his confidence. Finding him, bringing him in, making him pay became all consuming. It absorbed his every waking thought and took over his dreams, left him waking in a cold sweat every night. On his mission to the right thing, protect his family and maintain his pride, he never once considered the cost.

It is because of his own experience that he knows how Spencer is feeling, and well enough to be afraid it is already consuming him. Foyet…his only reason for being was to find him, and he would never have agreed to pass that burden, and ultimately that reward, onto another team…but that is exactly what he is going to ask Spencer to do.

Sighing heavily, he reaches for the shampoo, mentally preparing himself for the discussion ahead. God knows Spencer deals in logic, but there is no line of reasoning that will make what Hotch has to say easy to hear. Regardless, he will not allow him to spiral down into Amelia's demented world and lose himself there. He is going to be there every step of the way to keep them both afloat, but first he has to try like hell to make Spencer see things his way.

Stepping out of the shower, Hotch wraps a towel around his waist and takes his time using another to dry his hair. It occurs to him that he really does need to update the team, let them know about Green's death and get Garcia working on a possible connection with the cartel. Every lead they get takes them further down an ever-twisting path to nowhere and no closer, it seems, to a light at the end of it all. He is honestly disheartened, aware that they grossly underestimated Amelia Porter, her role in Miriam's murder, and now they are left to play a game of catch up that they are losing miserably.

If they manage to unravel the mystery of Amelia, how many more skeletons will they unleash, and will it bring them any closer to her…here alone in a hotel bathroom, disheartened and questioning his reputation as one the top profilers in the field, Hotch can admit to himself that the chances are looking more grim with every passing day.

Spencer hears the shower shut off and rushes to straighten up his pile of notes and maps, wincing at the stretch, wanting everything neat and ready. He is going to need logic and not heartfelt pleas if he is going to win Hotch over and stop himself being relegated to medical leave. He cringes remembering the hospital and Hotch's face as listened to the droning on about more surgery, physio exercises and rehab centers. Spencer can manage his physical pain, but he cannot go home. Not until they find Amelia Porter.

If only he hadn't misread the situation back at Green's, been so indiscrete about his feelings, and given Hotch another reason to send him home; to avoid the awkwardness that they have been skillfully avoiding talking about all day. It was immature, a foolish mistake and he put Hotch in the awkward position of responding or maintaining his professionalism which was not fair at all. Still, he can't help wishing.. wanting to know what Hotch would have said in a different time and place when he could have be completely open and totally honest.

Thankfully Hotch picks that moment to emerge from the bathroom and distract Spencer from that train of thought. With wet hair and damp skin, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, it is a welcome distraction too. Hotch's body is flawless, all taut skin stretched tight over defined muscle, he is lean but strong. There are very visible scars around his navel, and on his lower abdomen just above where the towel rests on his prominent hip bones, but they are a testament to what he has endured and how he has survived. Spencer finds himself wanting to touch them, imagines being intimate enough with his friend and mentor to trace them with his fingers, prompting Aaron to confide some of the dark memories that Spencer knows he must have and never talks about.

Flushing at the warmth growing low in his belly, Spencer shakes the thoughts away as Hotch turns to look at him. His gaze is intense and Spencer wonders for a second if he can read his mind. It is not so hard to believe Hotch may have superpowers, Spencer thinks.

"Are you ok?" Hotch asks, forehead creasing with concern. Spencer moves his eyes to the bedspread, hoping the other man didn't notice him staring and moves some of his papers around distractedly.

"Uh huh, I'm fine." Spencer clears his throat. "I've just been looking over my notes and I wanted to talk to you about some…stuff."

Well that was eloquent, Spencer thinks. Hotch looks unconvinced but nods anyway as he pulls a white undershirt over his head. Spencer can still clearly see the outline of his abs protruding through the shirt, which is thin and now damp from Hotch's skin. Squinting he can even make out the thin line of dark hair that starts just under his navel and disappears under the edge of the towel still fastened at his waist…

"Spencer!" Hotch calls, waving a hand to regain Spencer's attention. Chuckling he teases, "thought I lost you there."

Spencer forces a laugh but its weak at best and Hotch takes a hint and moves on.

"So, we need to eat, you need to shower, but, yes, most of all we need to talk." Hotch pauses to take a deep breath, and Spencer wishes he would put on pants so he could stop picturing what's under that stupid towel. "I need to tell you something and…well it won't be what you want to hear. I really don't want it to hurt our dynamic or damage our friendship." Hotch continues and Spencer wishes Hotch's face wasn't so unreadable, and suddenly his ears are ringing, and he feels like he's going to be sick. He knows what Hotch wants to tell him, and he definitely does not want to hear it! Spencer needs to hang onto the hope that he didn't misinterpret the connection between them those nights in Hotch's office doing paperwork that didn't need to be done… the times that Hotch has come to his rescue, taken the time to teach him to shoot, to save his life…now is not the time to find out that the relationship they share is no different than any other student and mentor. Spencer did not realize until this very second that he was counting on something that will never happen, and it is a horrible, crushing feeling. He can't seem to speak to stop Hotch from letting him down gently, from saying the words he can't bear to hear…he can't even catch his breath, his heart is racing, and it crosses his mind that he might actually be dying.

"I have been putting it off because it's so personal," Hotch is saying but he sounds like he's under water and Spencer has to stop this, and oh God why can't he form words…"There are some things that you just don't talk about because other people can't be expected to understand, but I have to now Spencer because I can't let you-"

"Wait!"

Hotch is both interrupted and startled when Spencer manages to find his voice and shouts.

They stare at each other, Hotch frozen in confusion and Spencer struggling with a hundred emotions at once, desperate to stop Hotch from spoiling the notion that one day things could be the way they are in his head when he thinks about the future.

"I-I mean-that is-I need to go first." Spencer manages to stutter before Hotch can go back to talking and ruin everything. "You said we would compare notes, you said we need to talk, well I need to go first. I need to tell you about that day at the Appleby farm, I need to tell you everything. I need to talk about it all…and-well-I need to go first. Ok?"

Because Spencer can't stand to hear what Hotch is going to say. He would rather talk about all of his failures, the multiple ways he let his team down, his fear that Amelia was right, and he really is just a trick pony. All facts and statistics but weak in the field…anything, anything at all but hear Aaron tell him he does not and will never love him back.

"Derek!" Penelope screeches, after over three hours of alternating between typing search parameters, and intensely scrutinizing long boring documents on her screen, only to pick up some folder or other to study before going back to typing.

The sound startles Derek where he is busy doing much the same thing on his tablet, albeit with less success. Camping out in Garcia's private tech cave had seemed like an inspired way to not only avoid Rossi, but to be the first to know if Garcia dredged up something new, and if that screech was anything to go by, it just paid off.

"Come here, come here!" Penelope is waving him over impatiently. "Oh, my chiseled Adonis, you are going to be so impressed by what I have found that you are going to beg to have my babies just to ensure my legacy of making something out of nothing lives on!"

Derek snorts as he joins her at her computer, curiosity piqued. "I am always impressed with you PG and having your babies would be an honour. Now fill me in, what have you got?"

"Sure thing and after we can talk baby names." She teases with a wink. It's the most lighthearted Derek has seen her since Salt Lake City, and it makes him glad. Penelope is the glue that holds them together and without her wit and humor they are lost.

"Ok think back to when we talked about Amelia's farm, officially the Appleby Farm, and I told you that it was sold to Jane Appleby by the bank in 2009. Remember?" She prompts and Derek nods because he does remember. The details of this case have been floating around in his brain for weeks.

"Well it turns out that wasn't entirely correct, it only appeared that way because I had just scratched the surface. The farm was actually sold to one Lucas Olson who paid for it in cash, three weeks before the deed was transferred, by him, to Jane Appleby's name!" Penelope scans Derek's face to make sure he is keeping up. "Now let me tell you why that is such a weird big deal, above and beyond someone up and giving away a farm that they just paid close to a million dollars in cash for."

"I am no boy wonder, but I knew I had come across the name Lucas Olson before and you'll die when I tell you where, Derek Morgan! Lucas Olson was the friend who found Alec Smythe, former owner of the Appleby farm, dead in the farmhouse. Crazy right?" Penelope pauses to allow Derek to react to this news.

"Ok, yeah that is a really strange connection." Derek ponders slowly, thinking it over.

"Hang on," Penelope holds up a hand, turning her chair back to her computer, tapping a few keys to bring up a web page called truthlocator. "This is a free site that anyone can use. All you have to do is type in a few basic details about a person and it will bring up any public record that is available containing their name."

"Ok…" Derek says, waiting for her to connect the dots for him.

"I did just that with Lucas Olson's name, and I found something really juicy, Derek. You are going to throw up, or have kittens, maybe both. I know I almost did. Ready?"

Derek nods riveted at this point.

"I was looking for Olson's financials to figure out where he got the cash to buy a farm, and I found what I was looking for. Boy did I ever." Penelope tells him. "Derek, Lucas Olson was the sole beneficiary of Gordon and Claire Porter's life insurance."

Notes:

Dun, dun dunnnnn!

We're baaaaaaaack. ...again... I know, we're terrible.

Wasn't that after shower scene just perfection? Ahh! Editing that I was so drawn into the distraction and all like squealy and drooly. No, those probably aren't words, but I'm using them, so there! lol Regardless of my made up words, wasn't that scene just so very YUM!?

Though it seems like Hotch and Reid are floundering a little bit, at least the team now has some direction thanks to the amazing Garcia! More team interaction and cooperation is on its way!

We have a lot of the next couple chapters planned, trust me, we just have to get it down on paper. SO many exciting things planned that will make all of you all squealy and drooly too! hahaha!

As always, please let us know what you think by reviewing! As I said, we have some very drool worthy scenes we're thinking of writing, and your comments could help us decide exactly how steamy these scenes get, if you know what I mean... Come on, don't you want some more sex appeal in this story, leave a comment, let us know how bad you want it!

Be sure to favourite the story so that you can be the first to be notified when we update so you can see if we've been encouraged enough to write in the sexy stuff!

~CC~