Reid "Carl Jung once said, 'The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.'"
County Hospital
Agent Elle Greenaway tried to close the door as quietly as possible. It was a challenge – she had a cup of coffee in each hand and a file folder under one arm. The hospital room she entered was dark; both occupants were asleep. Ann-Elise Miller was surrounded by tubes and wires. Elle had seen her the morning of the attack and had thought the young lady was extremely pale. Now, she looked deathly pale. Spencer Reid, head in hand, was sitting in a chair near the foot of the bed, his elbow resting at the edge of the mattress. Elle hated to wake him but he had asked to see the file as soon as possible. She put one cup of coffee on the bedside table, put the file folder on the bed and gently touched Reid's shoulder.
"Reid. Reid, wake up." He opened his eyes and looked up. "I have coffee." He took the cup from her hand and immediately took a sip. "The file is on the bed."
Reid thanked her, took another sip of coffee and opened the folder.
"C.S.U. found a body while they were searching the Murphy house."
"There was another victim? When was she taken?" He flipped through the pages even quicker.
"Fifteen years ago." Reid stopped looking through the file and looked up at Elle. "The body was found inside a trunk in the attic. Coroner identified the body yesterday – Leslie Adams. She was Wayne's fiancée. Seems his mother didn't approve of the match and when the bride-to-be disappeared weeks before the wedding everyone assumed she had been run off by her future-mother-in-law."
"Instead Wayne Murphy's mother had killed her?"
"Wayne found the body when he inherited the house after his mother's death."
"I guess that would be enough to send someone. . . ." Reid stopped – Ann-Elise moved slightly, turning her head from side to side and then settled again. He just stared at her.
"How is she doing?"
"Better. She's breathing on her own and she's out of the I.C.U. We're just waiting for her to wake up."
"I thought Hotch said that she woke up yesterday."
"Well, she opened her eyes and tried to talk but she really wasn't aware-awake. Not yet."
"How are you doing?"
"Tired and . . . . feeling guilty for what happened. This is all my fault. Hotch told me to stay out of sight. If I hadn't of stepped into the hallway. . . ."
"Reid, you can't blame yourself. It wasn't your fault. Reid. . . . look." Elle pointed to Ann-Elise. Her eyes had opened and for a few seconds she stared straight ahead and then she looked around the room.
"Ann-Elise?" Slowly she turned her head towards Reid's voice. "Good morning." She gave him a weak smile. She looked around the room and then back to Reid. "You're in the hospital."
"Why?" Her voice barely a whisper. Reid wasn't sure what to tell her. After thinking it over for days he realized his explanation sounded too technical, too scientific. He lacked a definitive bedside manner.
Not getting an immediate answer, Ann-Elise tried to sit up but fell back to the pillow.
"No, you just need to be still right now."
"What happened?" She winced. "My throat hurts." She felt around her neck, found a small bandage but nothing else. "My necklace?"
"I have it right here. You had a breathing tube removed just yesterday, your throat will stop hurting soon." Reid reached in to his shirt pocket and pulled out a small plastic baggie. He opened it and carefully picked up a silver chain with a saint's medal and crucifix attached. He held up the medal. "Saint Genesius – Patron Saint of actors. From what I understand, you gave a performance that he would have approved of in your classroom. . . ."
"Reid, she's out again." He looked up. Ann-Elise's eyes were closed. Reid sighed.
"Just like yesterday."
"She's been through a great deal -- physically and mentally."
"I just want her to get better."
"She will. Go home, get some rest. You look exhausted."
"I don't want her to be alone. If she wakes up alone . . . . I need to be here for her."
"At least get some sleep. Go lay down, I think that love seat pulls out into a bed. I'll stay here until someone else can come in." Reluctantly Reid agreed.
The next time Ann-Elise woke up she knew where she was and she expected to see Spencer Reid sitting next to her bed. Instead she found Agent Hotchner.
"How are you feeling?" She took a few seconds before she answered.
"Like I'm floating."
"I'm almost positive there is morphine in one of those." He pointed toward one of the I.V.'s.
"How bad is it?"
"You'll live, if that is what you are asking." Hotchner gave her a rare smile. He took her hand and placed something inside it. "You are going to be just fine. Reid asked me to give this to you."
"Where is he?" He pointed to the other side of the room. Ann-Elise raised her head just enough to see Reid.
"It was a compromise – you weren't left alone and he got some sleep. I think this was one of the few times he has ever disobeyed a direct order. He's become quite. . . loyal to you."
"He's become important to me too." She looked at her necklace and rubbed the saint's medal. "Agent Hotchner, what happened to me? I can't . . . why don't I remember getting hurt?"
"What do you remember?"
"Being at school?" Hotchner nodded. Ann-Elise shook her head. "I don't remember anything else."
"The unsub got into the school and into your room."
"My room?" She tried to sit up and Hotchner stood up, ready to keep her from hurting herself. "My students? Please tell me they are alright."
"They are fine. Scared but completely unharmed." She relaxed and settled back on the bed. Hotchner sat back down and took her hand in his. "According to your students' if you ever leave the teaching-world, you should become a negotiator."
"My students used the word 'negotiator'?"
"You should be very proud of yourself. You kept your students safe. It could have become a much worse situation."
"What did happen?"
"Wayne Murphy entered your classroom. . . ."
"Wayne? It was . . . . I remember, he came in and punched me."
"You hit your head" Keep it simple, Hotchner thought. He spoke slowly, allowing her to take in each statement before moving on to the next. "You had quite a severe concussion. You convinced him to leave your students in the room and the two of you left your room. Before I could stop him he stabbed you. The knife lacerated your diaphragm and the doctors have, to help you get better, allowed you to sleep for awhile." He was amazed how well she was taking it all in -- probably the drugs.
"How long is 'awhile'?"
"Five days. It's Wednesday evening."
"Guess I needed a lot of sleep."
"You did. Again, you are going to be fine." She again stared at her medal. "Agent Hotchner, did you find Karen?" He gave her hand a small squeeze.
"Yes, we did. She's been waiting for you to wake up."
"She's alive?"
"She's alive. In fact, she's come through this whole experience in much better shape than you." Hotchner was pleased to see her smile.
One more Chapter to come