A/N: I don't own any of the Criminal Minds characters, plot, etc. all belong to CBS
"Change is the law of life. And those who look only to the past or present are certain to miss the future." John Fitzgerald Kennedy
Rossi POV
I walk off the elevator into the bullpen on Wednesday, the first day Jade is expected to be a full, paid intern with the BAU. Everyone is excited at their desks, awaiting her arrival and I can practically smell the collection of sugary pastries Garcia has waiting in her tech den of an office. I admit, I was very apprehensive of Hotch taking on an intern this spring, but now she is already part of the team and I cannot imaging going back to working without her. The last two weeks while she was on her family vacation was already a drag, her quirky quips and humanizing softness she brings to the cases, it brings a level of compassion and freshness that we sometimes miss. A minute later, when I am filling my cup with a fresh espresso, I hear the elevator ding and turn to see Jade stride confidently off the elevator. She looks great, professional in the suit she claims is her best "for looking like an adult on the news." But then I take in her face and notice her normally bright and clear eyes are red, puffy, bloodshot.
That means one thing. Crying. Wait, crying? Why? Was her vacation okay? I think she mentioned visiting her grandparents, maybe they are ill? Did something happen to shake this little optimistic female? I swiftly dig out my phone and text Hotch.
'Hey. Get Bennett in your office ASAP, somethings not right.'
Then I turn to the latte machine and make one of her preferred overly sweet beverages and take it to her the instant it is finished. She nods in acknowledgment but doesn't say anything. Her eyes do soften for a moment, before she dips her head and focuses intently on whatever stack of papers were laying before her. I offer a comforting pat on her shoulder which doesn't garner a response before I turn and head up to my office, glancing in Hotch's office as I pass. He offers a curt nod of acknowledgment, his sharp eyes taking in the distraught young woman sitting at her desk below. By this time I also see Reid and Morgan have noticed Jade is not her usual peppy and upbeat self, but are holding back, no sure of how to proceed either.
Hotch POV
I dial Jade's cell number and gently request she come to my office, I have some things I need to discuss with her. I do not mention Rossi's message or the fact that all of my agents are giving her a wide berth for some reason. She mutters a quick, mumbled reply and disconnects the call. I set my cell to silent and my desk phone to go straight to voicemail, so we are not interrupted. I make sure my desk is mostly clear and the furniture is free, for whatever arrangement she needs to vent what is bothering her. I then stand and close the blinds to my office so no one can see in and pry, giving Jade every possible privacy.
Moments later, the door swings open, she rushes in, shoulders rolled forward, head tucked down and she shuts the door. The instant the door is shut, and the sound is concealed to my office, she begins bawling, again, from the looks of her eyes and general pallor and splotchy red face The dark circles haunting her eyes. Honestly, she looked better after her and Reid were retrieved. I brace myself, whatever happened to Jade had to be bad, if she's looking like death warmed over, but not quite. She slumps against the closed door and slides to the floor, folding in on herself some more, wracked with sobs.
I just sit in the armchair closest to the door, letting her get it out. I fight myself from going closer, from invading her privacy. If it is something like what happened after her and Reid were kidnapped, I doubt she would want me inside her personal bubble. I know if I ask her to speak right now I won't get any response, or at least not one I would be able to make sense of, so I sit silently, observing Jade as she sobs, tears freely streaming down her face, body shuddering from the internal agony. Since I don't know her very well yet, and we are still mostly on a boss/employee role, I don't offer her physical comfort, unsure if she will respond well to that or if it will make things worse. So I let her sob, venting her sadness and sorrow, tears staining her favorite suit.
Minutes pass and eventually the body-wracking sobs subside and she sniffles a few times before she speaks.
"It's over." She manages to get out before the sobs return anew, nearly as sorrowful and painful as they were initially.
"It?" I ask, tentatively, softly, looking down to her crumpled and pitiful form still slumped against my office door.
She nods, once, rubbing some tears from her face with the charcoal sleeve of her suit jacket, sniffling heavily.
"It what?" I ask, not sure what she means, my voice soft, tender. "The internship? Your university studies?" I offer?
She shakes her head, sniffling again, struggling to regain her composure enough to get her thoughts out. I offer her the box of tissues from my desk, which she gladly accepts, tugging several free and wiping her face before she can answer, "No, my relationship with Em. With Prentiss." Then she sobs some more, taking another tissue and blowing her nose soundly as the tears continue to run freely down her face, as if the faucet is open full bore. She then tells me the story of what happened to her in the airport, the phone call she took, everything Prentiss said to her, how she ended things so coldly, so abruptly. How she has been doing nothing but crying since then.
I offer Jade to sit on my couch "It has to be more comfortable than that darn floor, at any rate. Smashed against the oak door, too." Jade assesses me carefully, or perhaps assesses if she trusts her limbs enough to raise up and get to the couch. She tests her legs once, twice, then she finds the strength or inner resolve to stand, bringing the box of tissues with her and stumbles to the couch. Once I am satisfied with her level of comfort on my couch, I ask her to try and recall what exactly Prentiss said. Jade levels me with a careful look, so I explain, I want more information, to see if she said anything specific. If she was trying to give any clues.
Blowing her nose and wiping her eyes again, Jade collects herself and tells me as close as she can recall, the conversation over the phone at the airport. What she said, what Prentiss insisted on, her tone, how she repeated the phrase "I'm done".
I raise from the armchair I was in, approach Jade and offer her a gentle hug, rubbing her back tenderly, not unlike the way I soothe Jack when he is awoken from a nightmare and cannot separate reality from the horrors of his subconscious, of his nightmare. I suppose a terrible breakup, especially so out of the blue, is a bit like a waking nightmare. It definitely felt like a nightmare when Haley pushed for the divorce. I can feel her calm down, slightly, hear her breathing even, and I release her before sitting on the opposite side of the couch, giving her a bit of a berth, some room to breathe. We sit in silence a moment, allowing Jade to find some composure, return to some middle ground of calm and coherency.
"Bourbon?" I offer, "It's not got the bite of Rossi's Scotch, but it should do the trick."
"Sir, it is a Wednesday and it's barely past 8am." Jade protests, then appears to reconsider, "AND-and-aw hell, if you are my boss and you are offering, sure."
"This office is a sanctuary, Jade. If you need a finger of bourbon at," I check my watch, "8:26am to clear your head, this one time, then I will make the executive decision to pour it for you." I say, offering her the exquisitely cut glass of amber liquid. I settle back into the opposite side of the couch once more and we sit in silence a moment as she sips. I offer a tender and soothing hand on her shoulder and she leans into the touch. Sometimes all we need is a comfortable silence to sit and sort through our lot in life. We sit for maybe thirty minutes more, Jade sniffling occasionally and finishing the bourbon and I just sit there, silent and sympathetic.
While I sit there, comfortable on my couch, my mind is working hard. Some of the things Emily said, the things she said to break up with Jade, are sticking in my mind. I place them in the original context, and try to compare them to what she said this time, see if they fit and shed any light to why she would break Jade's heart just after she openly came out to everyone on our team. Having put most of it together, or at least enough that I feel confident in sharing my thoughts with Jade, I speak, enlightening her.
"Jade, it might not be over, not in the way that you think. Prentiss said nearly those exact same things to Reid and myself before she fled, leading Doyle away from us, buying us time to save ourselves, to work on a plan. Drawing him away in a manner only Emily Prentiss or Lauren Reynolds could." I explain, "Has she mentioned any upcoming work, something she might need to go undercover or work off the official grid for a while?"
Jade thinks about this for a minute, considering my words, wiping her face yet again before she turns to face me, her eyes bloodshot and face blotchy from the tears, but her expression was calculating and clear. "No, I am not sure, but she definitely did not mention anything sensitive that may require undercover work."
"I still think it is an option. For her to use such similar language, that had to be a hint, a clue. She knew you'd be upset and we would notice, she knew you would tell us, she knew we would never forget her words, her last words to us before she sacrificed herself."
Jade nods, whatever I said seems to resonate with something she was already thinking, and she leans into me, her head resting on my shoulder as she continues to sob, but no where near as dramatically. Eventually her tears dry and we continue to chat about relationships, love, how difficult it is to be in a relationship and work for a federal agency, let alone both partners working in very different organizations, across oceans, and keeping so many secrets from each other, it is hard to know when they are being genuine, when they are lying or secretive for work, or when they are lying and secretive to protect each other. I admit it never gets easier. Relationships are quite difficult and no matter how much we study them, how many courses can be taught on them, no one ever gets it completely right. Jade manages a dark chuckle at that, "if there is no hope, why do we keep trying so hard?"
"Because, Jade, with the right person, the struggle seems worth it. Love makes us do the impossible."
"Is that what it was like with Haley? Doing the impossible without even realizing it?"
"Pretty much. And every second was worth it." I admit, sadly. I may have found Beth, and she might be amazing, but Haley was, is and will forever be the love of my life. The mother of my child. The center of my universe.
"You are lucky to have found that person, even if it ended so tragically. Not everyone gets those years of happiness to make the struggling to figure it out worth it."
"You are young, you'll find your person, Jade. Don't give up." I offer with a gentle squeeze of her shoulder as I stand up and return to my desk.
"Thank you for listening and talking me off the edge. I might not be on my A-Game today, but it looks like I have a mountain of paperwork to plug away and get through. I should be able to do that with a wounded heart." Jade says, rising from the couch as well, looking down at the tear-stained and slightly wrinkled suit, smoothing it with one hand and setting her empty glass on the edge of my desk.
"You are most welcome, Jade. You are always welcome in my office if you ever need to cry, talk or vent your frustrations." I offer with a warm, sincere smile.
"Thanks." Jade says, walking to the door, taking a deep breath, ready to face the day. I hope our team gives her space, doesn't press her for information. I contemplate sending them a message, but a glance out the door as she leaves and I see they are busy at their desks, and not at all the "fake lets look like we are busy because the boss man is looking" but actually deep in their work. They think they can fool me, but a good boss can tell the difference between true hard work and pretend.
Just before lunch an email from our contact in Baltimore catches my eye. Since our office is so close, the Baltimore departments often just reach out to me directly, much to Cruz and everyone above his offices' chagrin. Either way, I open the email to read the enclosed brief of the case.
Over the last few months a few people have gone missing after taking sailing lessons. Age and demographics are spread, middle, upper and elite classes. I call the team into the conference room and present the case. Garcia and Jade appear glad that I took over, and Garcia has her arm comfortingly around Jades shoulders, as if Jade went straight from my office to Garcia's and spent most of the morning there. Which I think is a good idea, the two have a good, close bond. I amend my assessment to myself, she certainly stopped at some point. Jade's makeup was back in tip-top condition, her hair smooth and professional, her outfit no longer looked like she was caught in the rain. Good, she is coping, able to make an effort for the job. Able to separate the two facets of her life. Just like I knew she could, just like I wrote in her official reports to her professors at George Washington University. Wrote into my recommendations to Cruz and all our bosses up the chain in the J Edgar Hoover Building.
We grab our go bags, a quick bag lunch from the cafeteria before we pile into the SUVs and drive out to Baltimore. Over the ride there we wolf down our lunches, knowing we will need the energy to jump right into a case. Arriving at the Baltimore PD, I split the team up, Jade, Blake and Reid staying in our unofficial second office in the Baltimore PD, to comb through each of the files and update us if they find anything interesting. Rossi and Morgan head to interview families of the missing persons, and finally I head out with JJ to see if we can find any leads at the marina where the sailing lessons are hosted.
Arriving at the marina, JJ and I share a glance with raised eyebrows. Normally, affording sailing lessons is a luxury for the more wealthy and higher class people. In fancy sailing boats worth as much as my house. This particular marina is directly across a commercial, industrial dock, the boats advertising the sailing lessons practically sharing space with the grimy crabbing and fishing boats of the Chesapeake Bay. If I were a sailing enthusiast, I would not in a million years find this marina as an acceptable mooring of my boat. I guess everyone must start somewhere though, so perhaps this company is trying to reach a new generation of sailors, appeal to some youth who frequent these docks. Perhaps they advertise their affordability, and that is what drew in our missing persons, hanging around this somewhat unsavory area.
JJ and I explore and investigate the marina and the commercial area across from it. There are a few warehouses nearby, that we both think could be a potential holding location. The warehouses are all old and in need of repair, without a proper investigation it would be difficult to tell which were abandoned. No one appears to be at the business hosting the sailing lessons, perhaps everyone is out in the bay, learning how to sail. It is a very hot, very sunny July day, with a pleasant, consistent sea breeze keeping us cool even in our professional attire, and it would be an ideal day to be out learning how to sail, if one were so inclined.
JJ and I discuss what we saw and discovered while we drove back to the Baltimore PD, and we are in agreement. That is not the type of location where any sensible person would sign up for sailing lessons, so perhaps the missing persons are just unfortunate and were easy targets for others hanging around the marina, not the sailing company itself. That said, there are enough warehouses nearby that the victims are probably not far. We will work on obtaining search warrants for each warehouse and the marina maintenance shed. One thing we both noticed was the clearly lacking surveillance of the area. Not a single security guard, security shack, or even a camera hanging from the corner of a building. No wonder the people could go missing without a trace.
As soon as we return to our secondary office, as I like to think of it, I check on Jade. She appears fine, there are no traces of the tears, the body-wracking sobs. Jade assures me she is alright, she does not need babysat. Not today. Not her first day as a legitimate intern, outside of her school program. She is determined to be strong, to not let her personal life distract her, no matter how devastating it may be. I smile softly and we return to the assembled team, where JJ has already caught them up on what we saw at the marina. Blake and Reid tell us about their afternoon at the department.
"Every mother on this side of the Bay is upset. They think any time their children are late for dinner they have been kidnapped, despite not every being to the marina in question. It has been a long afternoon assuring them their children are safe, it is people who are old enough to be sailing, taking paid lessons, that appear to be most at risk. Please tell me we have something more to go on now?" Blake says, looking every bit as exasperated and tired of the repetitive and unneeded calls of concerns as she sounded.
"Yes, I think there are more leads, at least, for where the missing persons might be. I am going to contact the judge to obtain search warrants for every warehouse and maintenance shack within a mile of the marina."
"Bad part of town?"
"The worst that I've seen along the Bay. I didn't know it got that bad out here, I thought it was just the inner city of Baltimore that was rough like this. If I were to pick a place to stash kidnapped people, this is the first location I'd choose." JJ informs everyone, glancing at me to confirm, which I do with my curt nod.
I leave to request the warrants and bring in some fresh coffee. By the time I return, Rossi and Morgan have returned and are waiting for me to reveal what they learned interviewing the family members. I distribute the coffee to the waiting agents and eager liaison and take a sip of my own coffee.
"I have never met a more confused group of people. Not a single clue was left behind. The missing persons all said they were off for their first sailing lessons, and never to be seen again. No calls, no texts, no social media activity. The phones are either dead and the calls go straight to voicemail or the the phone just rings and rings until it eventually ends up unanswered in voicemail." Rossi shares.
"Right. And the sailing lessons are apparently paid for in cash. The family members all have checked the banking statements and activity of the missing persons, none have made a traceable payment to the sailing company. No large ATM withdrawals either, nothing suspicious or above the normal value for each person to withdraw at one time." Morgan adds, looking fed up and disgusted. He takes another drink from his coffee.
"Maybe that is because the kidnappers plan to ask for a large ransom sum?" JJ asks, eyebrows knitted together as she finishes her coffee and tosses it into the bin by the whiteboard.
"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Has anyone taken these sailing lessons and not turned up missing? Safely returned after the lessons?" Blake asks, considering the new details.
"Yes, a few. Morgan and I spoke to some of them as we were interviewing family members. The neighbor of the first missing person. They took the lesson together. Said the missing person, Danny, hung back to keep talking about deep sea fishing with the instructor, but planned to meet for dinner shortly after. He never showed up. No call or text to say why. Angelo ended up eating alone, watched the Orioles game, then went home. Figured Danny ditched him to eat with the instructor so they could keep going on about their love for deep sea fishing."
"So we know he made it back to shore. At least temporarily." Jade remarks, voice somewhat more cold and detached than normal, but otherwise appearing fine, adding a bullet point to the list on the whiteboard.
"Right." Rossi agrees, assessing Jade much the same way I am, the rest of the team is. I am not sure if they know what is going on in her life, but they certainly all noticed her spending an hour in my office this morning, and how off she seemed earlier. "They all seem to make it back to shore. No dumping them out in the open waters. The UNSUBs must want them alive."
"If it even is the sailing company. Now that we know they make it ashore, it could be someone lurking at the marina or in the warehouses nearby, catching a lone straggler unaware in the early evening hours."
"Warehouses? What kind of sailing outfit has warehouses." Rossi asks, incredulous.
"This isn't the normal sailing operation, Rossi." I tell him. I inform he and Morgan about the unsavory neighborhood, the warehouses, the industrial and commercial boats docked just across a narrow inlet. Well within the range of a careful captor. Especially without any form of surveillance or security.
We continue debating the case, possible motives and potential leads until about 10pm, when I decide to call it. If we have not got the warrants for the warehouses yet, and we have no more credible leads elsewhere, we might as well get some rest to start fresh early tomorrow morning.
Thursday and Friday we spend the whole days searching the maria and warehouses to no avail. Thursday morning Jade and Blake work hard to develop a well worded and carefully constructed media plea. Jade looks just as competent and confident as ever on the noon news break as she delivers the plea, asking the public for assistance and clues to the location of the missing persons. Every time the team takes a break in our searching, I check on Jade. She is still sorting through the breakup, the information I gave her, deciding what her next step might be. If she thinks Prentiss was indeed giving her a hint.
There still have not been any ransom demands, but everyone on the team feels the people are out there, hidden away in one of the warehouses. We continue searching. I didn't realize it on Wednesday when JJ and I surveyed the warehouses, but they spread back quite a distance from the marina. It might be a week until we get through them all, even splitting the team into pairs and assigning warehouses.
Friday is another late night, and I call it around midnight, pulling the team back and crashing in our suites in Baltimore. Morgan gets very frustrated and tries to convince me to let us keep searching, there are only 2 more warehouses. The people might be inside, might be able to sleep in their own beds tonight if we keep searching. Despite the argument making sense, I remain firm, we call it. If we are tired, fatigued, we make unsafe judgments. One of us could be hurt if we do not think, if we cut corners just one time.
I am not willing to take that risk, put lives in danger just on the hope that we can save the day.
It will never be worth that risk. Our team has to stay together.
Early Saturday morning we are back at the marina, splitting into teams of two to finish off the warehouses. Morgan, Reid and I take the farthest warehouse, while Rossi, JJ and Blake take the one in the opposite corner, closest to the waters edge. Reid watches the front as Morgan and I take the rear door, a small, access door, nearly completely hidden from view, padlocked not once, but with three separate locks. Luckily for us, the opposite side of the door, with the hinge, was nearly rusted through and with two well placed blows from our shoulders, gave way. We pry the door open and hear hushed voices instantly stop.
Morgan and I pause to reassess. I whisper into my radio, directly to Reid, alerting him that we might have the missing people inside. That we hear voices, hushed and afraid. This warehouse was supposed to be one of the abandoned ones. The last occupants left over a decade ago. Clicking our radios off, we ready ourselves by the door to make entry. Carefully, we pry the door open further, allowing us access to the warehouse, handguns drawn and ready, eyes sharp, searching the deep, barely daybreak shadows for any movement and sign of life.
The warehouse is full of shipping containers and discarded fishing gear, plenty of rows and shadowy areas to hide. And something rotting, from the putrid mixture of scents wafting and assaulting my nose with each step. We creep, silently and slowly, into the warehouse. Assessing our surroundings and allowing our eyes to adjust to the darkness and shadows, we stand shoulder to shoulder. We step forward, and I feel very glad that I put my full vest on, it is too quiet, The voices we heard earlier have entirely disappeared. There is not even the rustle of bodies moving in the darkness. Utter stillness is eerie, is not something I will ever find comforting. Life is always moving, shifting, making some sound. Even our near-silent footsteps on the hard, dust covered, cement leave some faint sounds to be heard by careful and trained ears.
We carefully move through the stacks of containers, stepping around discarded nets and gear, making our way forward, toward the large bay doors. The putrid smells are increasing so much so that Morgan and I raise our shirts above our noses at the same moment, hoping to keep the stench out. Keep the smell at bay at least long enough to search the warehouse and be gone. It is hard to tell, but as far as I am able to discern, the warehouse is all one floor, no separate level above for anyone to be hiding in. Not wanting to tip off any UNSUBs or other unsavory individuals, Morgan and I decide to inch along without drawing our flashlights. Without knowing our surroundings, knowing who was speaking in hushed tones minutes ago, it is unsafe to draw attention to ourselves by calling out or using the lights. The shipping containers are stacked high, blocking the dawn light from the high windows lining the upper heights of the warehouse so barely any rays reach the floor level.
Morgan indicates to the floor and I train my gaze to where he is pointing. Indeed, the decade thick dust ahead appears to be disturbed, by many feet or a pacing individual, and recently. We pause, taking a breath and proceed to the corner where the dust is most disturbed, and listen. It seems like the cause of the stench has been found. It appears that this area is a bathroom of sorts, for a long time. Mounds of human feces and puddles of urine can barely be made out in the shadows. Morgan and I retreat quickly, choosing to put some distance between us and the nasty waste. Any victims trapped inside here are likely to be doing the same, I don't think anyone would choose to be in that corner a moment longer than necessary.
Quickly we are far enough away from the "bathroom" that we can breathe somewhat comfortably without our shirts pinched over our noses. We pause, listening again. I hear footsteps, retreating. They sound light, barely scraping on the cement floor. Possibly a petite woman or teenager. The footsteps retreat quickly, becoming even more faint. Morgan and I follow the sound, careful not to make a sound either. We follow the footsteps, just out of eyesight, the the very front of the warehouse, where the daylight is brightest and we see a group of nearly a dozen people in various states of starvation and devastation, bringing to mind the images of emaciated Holocaust survivors.
"Hello, we are here to help, we are with the FBI." I announce in a serious and commanding but still gentle tone.
"FBI? Thank god! I've been here a month, I think." A man replies, struggling to stand. Morgan rushes to his side, helps him stand up as everyone else stands, stretching their legs, preparing for some grand escape.
"I am agent Aaron Hotchner and this is my partner Derek Morgan. Can everyone walk? Can you follow us out the back?"
"And go past the shit mountain? Heavens no." A middle aged woman who looks nearly as emaciated as the man Morgan helped up.
"Do you know how to open the bay doors?" Morgan asks as he supports the man and appears to be wishing he had his shirt back over his nose.
"No, we can't figure it out, I think they have a key that fits into that pad over there" Another person says, indicating to the space just to the right of the bay door. I go over, drawing my flashlight and clicking it on. It appears they are right, a key of some sort will be needed to open the bay door, a small groove is located below the control panel. Very curious that there is a lock on the internal control panel and not just the outdoor one. I click on my radio and relay the information to Reid. Then I change to the channel for the rest of the team, letting them know we found the missing persons and the missing key to escape.
"Why can't you go out the way you went in?" Rossi asks immediately.
"The unbearable shit mountain they have been using for a bathroom. It would be against the Geneva Conventions to make them pass it to get to the door. I don't know if Morgan and I could survive it again, even at a run. These people are certainly not up for a run."
"Blake is calling locksmiths and JJ is speaking to the warehouse block supervisor. Someone will be getting you out shortly." Rossi relays to us and we hold tight, waiting for the team and our saviors to arrive.
As we wait, Morgan and I get the story of what happened. The sailing instructor would make some excuse to talk to them, keep them back from the group, in the guise of normal chit-chat, perhaps a new friendship. Then, he would hug them goodbye, but they would be knocked out from something that smelled like mothballs overwhelming them. They would wake up here with a dozen sandwiches and a case of water. Each time a new person would arrive, another dozen sandwiches and case of water would arrive as well. The sailing instructor would carry them over his shoulder and would have a gun drawn, so the already captive victims would not attempt to escape. There was no discussion of ransom, no demands, no apparent reason to keep them hostage. He wouldn't interact with them in any way, aside from the new victim and food drop offs.
As the door is opened, we hear ambulances approaching, to take the victims to the hospital for immediate evaluation and at least IV's for rehydration. Morgan and I go make formal statements while Rossi and JJ arrest the sailing instructor just as he arrives for the days lessons.
"There is only one thing that makes a dream impossible to achieve: the fear of failure." Paul Coelho
