Okay, so depression sucks (Which is 100% of the reason this is sooooooooo late), but i'm slowly falling back into my old writing habits. Although I can no longer promise that updates will be regular or following any sort of schedule because lately i've been feeling down in the dumps that writing is the furtherest thing from my mind. All I can promise is that if you be patient, updates will come eventually.
When the video of the murder was posted online, Jessa tried her best to remain strong, but she could feel Hankel getting under her skin. She avoided the computer room at all costs, knowing what the images would do to her. She was pacing the main room, fingers hovering over her phone debating whether or not to call her brothers. She needed affirmation. She needed to hear the calming voice of her twin to clear her head. Dean had always had that effect on her. No matter the situation, his presence calmed her. She was about to call when Gideon stormed from the computer room. Jessa was rushing into the room in an instant, Morgan hot on her heels, only to find Garcia silently sobbing in front of then screens.
"Penelope, what is it?" Jessa asked softly.
"He killed him." Penelope sobbed, "He was beating on him, and then Reid just started having a seizure and he died."
Jessa felt Morgan tense at her side, and she glanced up at the screens only to confirm Penelope's story. Laying on the ground in the centre of the room, still bound to the chair, was an unmoving Reid.
"Oh my God." Jessa whispered.
"What's going on?" Hotch demanded, barrelling into the room with Emily in tow. No one answered, but the look on his face said he knew as soon as he glanced at the screens. Hotch's face was an unreadable mask, but those who knew him would pick up on the grief glistening in his eyes. "Where's Jason?"
"He stormed out."
"He blames himself because of what he said at the murder scene." Garcia supplied quietly.
Suddenly, Hankel rushed back into the room and began CPR on Reid.
"Emily—" Hotch started but she already knew what he was going to ask and was halfway out the door.
The rest of the Agents watched in astonishment as the Unsub worked to bring back to life the man he had killed moments ago.
After a few tense minutes, Reid inhaled sharply and began coughing and everyone in the room let out a relieved breath.
Jessa felt Hotch's hand reach for hers, but the contact only lasted a moment before he withdrew it.
"Hang on, what time was the latest video posted?" Emily asked.
"9:23." Garcia answered.
"And what was time of death?"
"The 911 call came in at 9:04 and the murders had to be moments after that." Hotch said.
"That's only a nineteen-minute difference." JJ realised.
"How long would it take to post the MPEG?" Morgan asked, catching on to Prentiss' train of thought.
"Two or three minutes." Garcia answered.
"Let's call it two. You factor in a maximum of sixty miles an hour in a residential area, that means Hankel has to be within a seventeen-mile radius of the crime scene."
"Garcia, can we see it on a map?" Hotch asked the analyst.
Penelope had it up in seconds, the radius marked out.
"Call Farraday." Gideon said, his voice stony and his eyes fixed to the computer, "I want that area locked down like it's martial law."
JJ nodded and pulled out her phone, but was stopped by Garcia's voice, urging them to look to the screens.
"You came back to life." Hankel said to Reid, who was still laying on the ground.
"Raphael." Reid said, but the man ignored him.
"There can be only one of two reasons."
"I was given CPR."
"There are no accidents." 'Raphael' said to him, "How many members of your team are looking for you?"
"Seven."
"The seven angels who had the seven trumpets prepared themselves to sound. The first sounding followed hail and fire mixed with blood and they were thrown to earth."
"He thinks its Revelations." Hotch thought aloud, "The seven archangels versus the seven angels of death."
Jessa watched as 'Raphael' sat Reid and the chair upright before he spoke again.
"Tell me who you serve."
"I serve you!" Reid's tone was pleading and Jessa felt her heart break for him.
"Then choose one to die."
"What?"
"He won't actually choose one of us, would he?" Garcia asked quietly, more of an aloud thought than a genuine question.
"Your team members—choose one to die."
"Kill me." Again, Jessa felt Hotch's hand reach for hers, but this time she held on with equal force.
"You said you weren't one of them."
"I lied."
"You are not one of the seven. Tell me who dies."
"No."
'Raphael' pulled out his gun and spun the chamber, placing the single bullet in a random place and aiming it at Reid's head. "Choose, and prove you'll do God's will."
"No."
Click. 'Raphael' squeezed the trigger and when no bullet fired, he asked again.
But again, Reid refused.
Click.
"Life is a choice."
"No."
Click.
"Choose."
There was a long pause in which everyone held their breath.
"I," Jessa glued her eyes to the screen and watched Reid look up at his captor. "I choose Aaron Hotchner."
As soon as his name left Reid's lips, Hotch dropped Jessa's hand. He visibly tensed but stared straight ahead.
"He's a classic narcissist." Reid went on, "He thinks he's better than everyone else on the team. Genesis 23:4, 'Let him not deceive himself and trust in emptiness, vanity, falseness, and futility, for these shall be his recompense.'"
'Raphael' raised the gun above Reid's head and squeezed the trigger. Bang.
Hotch fled the room, and Jessa followed.
"I'm not a narcissist." He mumbled fumbling for a bible.
"I know that, Aaron. We all know that."
"He's not in his right mind, Hotch." Gideon told him.
"No, stop!" He ordered, "Everyone right now, what's my worst quality?"
No one spoke, unsure of what he was trying to do.
"Okay, I'll start. I have no sense of humour."
"You're a bully." JJ told him.
"I'm a bully." He agreed.
"You can be a drill sergeant sometimes." Morgan added.
"Right."
"You don't trust women as much as men." Prentiss told him.
"Okay, good." Hotch smiled slightly, which struck Jessa as odd considering the things everyone had just said about him. "I'm all these things, but none of you said that I ever put myself above the team. Because I don't, ever. Reid and I argued about the definition of classic narcissism, and he knew that I would remember that. And he also quoted Genesis chapter twenty-three, verse four."
"Right." Jessa stated, "He said Genesis, but quoted Job." She thought to recall Genesis. "'I am a stranger and a sojourner among you; give me possession of a burial plot among you that I may bury my dead out of my sight.'"
"He wouldn't get it wrong unless it was on purpose." Hotch was full on smiling now.
"He's in a cemetery." Morgan finished off the thought.
They all rushed back into the computer room to relay the information to Garcia.
"I don't see a cemetery." She told them, going over her map.
"Call up the first time we saw Reid." Gideon told her.
Garcia nodded and pulled up the very first clip of Reid. "I won't choose who gets slaughtered and have you leave their remains behind like a poacher." He had said.
"Check to see if there are any reports of poaching in the last couple of days." Hotch ordered.
"Uh, okay." She did as he asked, even though her mind hadn't caught up to his yet. "A farmer reported two sheep being slaughtered on his property."
"Where're we talking?" Morgan asked.
Garcia zoomed in on her map to where the poaching report had come from.
"What's that patch of green there?" JJ asked, pointing to a small section of the map.
"Marshall Parish. I think it's an old plantation." Hotch told her.
"Wait." Emily stopped them all, "Tobias wrote in his journals about staying clean and keeping away from Marshall."
While they were talking, Garcia did her thing and had up all the information on Marshall Parish. "Guys, there's a cemetery on the grounds."
"Let's move." Hotch ordered. Everyone acted in that moment, grabbing their weapons and heading to the SUV's. "Winchester," He started.
"Stay here, got it." She smiled at him, "I know my limitations, Hotch."
"Okay." He turned to walk away, but Jessa called him back.
"Call me when you find him."
"Of course."
Jessa sat herself down on the rotting porch and lit a cigarette. After a few drags she pulled out her phone. Normally when she was feeling like this, she poured herself a glass of whiskey—or rather just drank it straight from the bottle—but that wasn't an option, so she called the only person who would talk her through it with her.
"This'd better be good." A sleepy Jo answered.
"How many times have I talked you through a crisis at all hours of the morning?"
"Fair point. What's up?" Jo sounded slightly less annoyed.
Jessa launched into a brief explanation of the case, of Reid's kidnapping, the unsubs games, and finally, what Reid said about their boss and her negative feelings toward the genius for it.
"Are you sure you aren't being unreasonable?"
"You don't sell out your family, Jo. No matter what."
"But he didn't. Not really. He was sending a message; I know you see that. So that begs the question: what's this really about?"
"What do you mean?"
"This isn't about the fact that you're in love with your boss—who happens to be married, by the way—and the thought of him being hurt nearly killed you?"
"What?!" Jessa asked, her voice an octave higher than usual.
"Tell me it isn't true."
"It's not true, Joanna Beth Harvelle."
"Don't you dare full name me, Jessamine Mary Winchester, you know it's true."
"It's not true, Jo." Jessa told her 'sister' adamantly, "He's married. I would never cross that line."
There was a sadness to her tone when she said that, and Jo picked up on it but chose not to mention it. "Alright, I believe you."
"Thank you." She stubbed out her cigarette on the porch next to her, wondering for a moment if it would go up in flames. Thankfully it didn't.
"Look, Jessa, it's late and I've got to go on a supply run in the morning. As much as I love you, and enjoy these little chats, I need some sleep." Jo said after a short silence.
"Yeah, sure."
"Talk soon, okay?"
"I love you, Jo."
"I love you, too, Jessa."
She hung up and dropped the phone next to her, hearing an unnerving groan from the flimsy porch.
"You mind if I sit?" Garcia appeared in the doorway behind her.
"Of course you can." Jessa scooted over. "Sorry, I needed to talk to someone."
"You could have talked to me." She plopped down next to Jessa, an action that elicited a scurrying sound from somewhere behind them.
"I'm sorry, Pen." And she was. Throughout all of this, Jessa had been selfish. Now she could see it: Penelope had been their first line. She had sifted through the images, censored the videos, sat for hours on end and watched Reid be tortured. And here Jessa was, shutting her out because of her own selfish reasons.
"Don't be."
"No, I am." She wrapped an arm around her friend, who then placed her head on her shoulder. "Do you know what we need?"
"To stop seeing horrific things like this on a daily basis?" Garcia supplied.
"No, we need a girls' weekend. You, me, JJ, and Emily. I'm sure Hotch and Gideon could give us a four-day weekend when we get back. God knows we've earned it."
"I like the way you think, Miss Winchester." Penelope grinned, "But what do you have in mind?"
Jessa hadn't thought it this far through, "I don't know… Somewhere with alcohol."
"Why don't we do a spa weekend? There's supposed to be this really good one in Pennsylvania. It's only like a five-hour drive."
"As long as we get really drunk."
"Deal."
The pair sat in silence for a few long minutes, but eventually cleared up the house and headed back to the Atlanta field office to wait news of Reid. They had just pulled up when Jessa's phone rang.
"Is he okay?" She answered eagerly.
"We got there." Morgan told her. "Gideon is taking him to the hospital to get checked out and the rest of us are heading back to Atlanta. Can you and Garcia meet us there?"
"Way ahead of you. We just arrived."
"We'll see you soon."
Jessa and Penelope sat in the break room sipping on coffee when the others filed in.
"Spencer's okay, isn't he?" Garcia asked the moment they sat down, "He's not like, dying or anything?"
"Relax, mama." Morgan said, "Physically, he's alright. I mean, he's battered and bruised, but he'll recover."
Jessa let out a sigh of relief. In her head she had been giving him hell for selling out Hotch, but she didn't mean it. Not really. Reid was family, and nothing family does is unforgivable.
"Is this a bad time to ask for a four-day weekend, Boss Man?" Garcia turned to Hotch.
A small and rare smile graced their boss' lips, "I'll put a call in to Strauss on the plane."
