Commencement

Chapter 14

At the sound of the gunshot, Reid dropped his crutch and attempted to run in the direction where he'd last seen JJ. As he did, his mind replayed the sounds that had thrust his body into motion.

Did the voice come first, and then the gunshot?

It had been barely a word, if it had even been a word at all, so he couldn't be sure. But his mind had processed it as a female voice.

But was it hers? Or was it Linda's? Was it JJ, trying to command a situation, or Linda, trying to command her? Or calling out to one of her partners? Or was it JJ, calling out to me? Was she calling for help?

Unavoidably reminded of that time, so many years ago, so many life experiences ago, when they'd been separated, and he'd heard her cry out, and started running to her. And never reached her.

What if it had been JJ he'd heard, just now? What if she'd been calling for help? What if she needed to know he'd heard her?

He'd called out to her all those years ago, wanting her to know he was coming to her aid, but it had ended in his own abduction. He couldn't call out to her now, couldn't give his position away, not for the sake of his own safety, but for hers. Nor could he afford to give thought to the source of that rustling sound that had originally gotten his attention.

As he started to run, the adrenalin rush allowed him to power through the pain, but he encountered an unexpected problem. The wearing of the extremely tight tourniquet had been effective in keeping his bleeding to a minimum, but it had apparently also been effective in putting pressure on the nerves within his leg. He realized that he could barely feel the ball of his left foot, and he couldn't feel his heel at all. He was still pondering the danger of that lack of sensation when the foot apparently encountered an obstacle, and he was launched forward, coming down hard on his bruised torso and thighs.

The pain was excruciating, and he nearly passed out from it. Realizing, he put himself into a Valsalva maneuver to push blood to his brain.

Don't do this, she needs you! Get up!

With difficulty, he pulled to his knees, and his hands fell upon his thighs, where his left hand felt fresh wetness. He'd opened up his deep wound once again.

Reid had a decision to make, for which he wished that he could get to a better state of alertness, but he would have to operate as he was.

I'm already bleeding. Should I just take the tourniquet off, and get my sensation back? What if I start bleeding out? I can't help her then!

But he also couldn't help her if he kept stumbling through the woods. In the end, he thought she stood the best chance of surviving if he could get to her quickly, and that meant leaving the belt behind, even if it put his own survival at greater risk.

What difference does it make? If I save myself, but lose her….I might as well be dead.

So he loosened the tourniquet, and held his palm to his thigh, feeling for a significant surge in wetness that might mean he would bleed out too quickly to be helpful. When it didn't come, he sighed in relief, and removed the belt entirely. Then he pushed himself to his feet, oddly missing the sense of support the belt had given his leg.

Once he'd reoriented himself to the angle of the moonlight, Reid set forward, moving as quietly, and with as much stealth, as his leg would allow him. Sensation returned to his foot in the form of pins and needles that didn't quite transmit the sense of touch, so he had to compensate by reaching his long arms outward to grasp supporting branches as he moved along. That was successful in allowing him to right himself each time he stumbled, but it also kept him from having a hand on his weapon. He had to hope that, should it be needed, he would be in a stable enough position to grab it quickly.

What should have been a ten-minute walk became a laborious journey, during which Reid's mind had the opportunity to present to him all manner of horrific possibilities, interspersed with some equally disturbing memories. It was times such as this one that he considered his eidetic memory to be a curse of sorts, because it had so successfully catalogued the innumerable ways in which humans could be inhumane to one another.

He knew what JJ would have told him, because she'd said it so many times after his ordeal in prison. Frequently, and without warning, he would become lost for a bit, reviling himself, reviling the things he'd seen and done, and the things that had been done to him. Whenever she found him like that… whenever she thought I was lost….. she would bring him back, with a different memory. A happy one. A good outcome. A story about one of the boys.

So now, when it seemed that she might be lost, he forced his memory into a u-turn. He consciously drew up stored images of her smiling, of each of them bringing the other coffee, of games of poker, and gin, of a thousand minor breakthroughs celebrated in a thousand police precincts around the country. He remembered the look on her face when he'd dragged his exhausted self into her hospital room on the day Henry had been born. His telling her she looked beautiful, simply because it was true. The look on her face when she had come to him, at Milburn, to tell him she was taking him home. He remembered that embrace as he would remember no other in his life.

Along the way, as he moved through the woods, Reid encountered several areas where the tree cover was light, making it possible for him to be visible to an observer. He knew it might mean that their unsubs could see him, and thereby put him in danger. But he also realized it might mean that JJ could see him, and that she might be able to signal him where she was.

If she's conscious. Please, God, let her be conscious!

Weighing the two possibilities, Reid opted to make himself visible for a few minutes at each such location. He would stop, doing his best to balance without a branch to hold him steady, grateful that feeling had now completely returned to his foot, and considerably less grateful that it had also returned to his throbbing left thigh. Still, he stood, moving his arms to draw attention, whether it was hers or theirs didn't matter to him. He was more than willing to take the chance. Even if JJ couldn't see him, even if she was injured somewhere, she stood a better chance of surviving if their pursuers spotted him, and took him, and not her. But the strategy proved fruitless. He was apparently invisible to every human eye.

At last, Reid could make out the edge of the wooded area, which abrupted on a short lawn leading to what looked like a curved section of a highway service road. He positioned himself behind a thick tree trunk and allowed his eyes to fully accommodate to the light. Then he scanned a 360 degree circumference around his position, seeing nothing but trees, grass and asphalt. No vehicles, no unsubs, and no JJ.

Maybe I've gotten off center. Maybe she's up or down the road a bit.

He knew that the absence of their car didn't mean that one or more of their unsubs wasn't lying in wait, but he had already resigned himself to whatever fate might be his, if only he could save his best friend. So Reid left the tree cover and hobbled his way to the lawn at the very edge of the woods, wishing that the service road had been better traveled at this time of night. With effort, and without a means of balancing himself save to use his tender leg, Reid slowly made his way up and down the swath of lawn, venturing now and then back past the tree line, to search for her. But there was only silence, and dappled moonlight.

With nothing left to lose, Reid decided to make his presence fully known. He began to call out to her, over and over and over again, listening, hoping, praying, each time. But there was nothing.

Exhausted, but too afraid to sit without having a means to get up again, Reid leaned against a tree, panting.

She's not here. Did I walk past her? Is she lying in there? Did they take her? What do I do? God help me, what do I do?

He had so little reserve left. He would have had nothing at all, if he hadn't been so driven to find her. He was injured, weak, in pain, not quite thinking clearly. He was left without a crutch, without a cell phone to call for help, and without his partner, and the closest relationship he'd ever had in his life.

He'd become dehydrated with all of the effort of his trek, which was the only reason his despair wasn't pouring out in tears. Instead, it emanated from him as a virtual miasma, one that reeked of familiarity. He'd known this before.

This is how I felt when Maeve died. It's how I felt when I let down everyone I loved and got myself thrown into prison. Milburn literally reeked of it, all those men, with not even a molecule of hope.

The memory of Milburn brought him out of it. When he'd been there, he'd been in deep, blinding despair, and he'd not been able to see the other side of it. Not until she'd brought it to him.

And now I'm going to bring it to you!

With new resolve, he pushed away from the tree and moved back into the wooded area, searching for something just the right size. If he had to, he would walk to the highway, flag someone down, use their phone to call for help. He just needed something to serve as a crutch, because time was of the essence.

He needed a dead branch, either hanging or already on the ground. He knew it might be brittle, but he didn't have the strength to try to pull a green branch from a tree. Briefly, he considered trying to shoot it off, but he needed to conserve his ammunition.

He'd just found a likely candidate, when his attention was abruptly drawn away. He heard the sound of tires moving on pavement before he saw the light. Someone was on the service road, and if he could make it there in time, he might be able to wave them down!

Still without a crutch, Reid did his best to move quickly without falling, but his progress was slow. Which was why he still hadn't reached the edge of the woods when he saw the headlights turn, and illuminate the place where he'd just been. Curious, but not afraid, for he'd resigned himself to his fate, Reid peered out from behind a tree trunk that would not have been able to hide someone with more bulk.

From his observation post, Reid could see that the vehicle was not the sedan that had been used by the unsubs. They had apparently exchanged their car for an SUV. He watched as three doors were flung open at once, and three people alighted from the vehicle. Away from the woods, with the moonlight unfiltered, he could see them moving toward the tree line, two males and a female.

They've taken her. And they've come back for me.

If that was the case, he fully intended to let himself be captured. The last thing he would do would be to leave JJ alone in their talons. Whether or not he could save her, whether or not they could save each other, didn't matter to him. Reid simply couldn't live with the idea of her being alone in it.

If we go, we go together.

He'd been about to make himself known to them when a particular set of synapses fired, and his eyes widened in shocked surprise. Of the three unsubs, he'd seen only Linda, and he wasn't sure he would be able to recognize her figure in the shadows. But he definitely recognized these silhouettes, and their blessedly familiar patterns of movement. The slim female figure, half-running, weapon drawn. The male, walking with experienced stride, just behind her. And the other male, the one who'd taken the lead, grim determination leading him by broad shoulders and purposeful steps, no weapon in his hands save the power of his fists.

Reid knew those fists well. And the shoulders. And the man.

"Morgan!"