Chapter two: an ode to old

"Would you like a drink? Something to eat?"

This is not the first time, and definitely won't be the last time, that J.J has had to deal with traumatized children. Which is readily apparent with this child, their so far designated subject two. The lines are shaky when it comes to the interrogation of a child, and although he appears to be young, without a concise age for 'the boy', they are 'free' to interrogate him under the assumption that he is of age.

Not that the previous scenario has not been well considered, as a selected child advocate for 'the boy' is currently on route to the sheriff's office. Though slightly uncomfortable using the blurred lines of the legal system, she readily agreed with Hotch to make the most of their short time with the kid, and lightly test the waters, without further traumatizing him, of course.

"We can get you anything you like? Mcdonald's? A soda?" Nothing but a slight twitch of his downturned, blue eye. "Are you cold? I can grab you a blanket if you'd like..?" Arms tightly crossed, the kid stares down at the metal table blankly, almost in apparent resignation, the mostly stained white, slightly reddened bandage covering his other eye like a neon sign painted on his face. "It would really be no trouble at all."

He purses his chapped lips tightly, lowering his head a bit more, sweat licked hair sticking to his blood speckled neck like glue.

"Might respond better to a man." Prentiss suggests, rather distasteful. Only she, Hotch, and Gideon stand inside of the interrogation viewing room, inspecting J.J's rather unsuccessful rapport building.

"He might." Hotch concedes, stone faced. "However, we can't risk further traumatizing him. Or lose any of the points J.J has won with him, unseen progress or not."

"He's a tough kid," Gideon points out, in that dot connecting tone in his voice. "Just like Grimes. Kid might look up to him. That or he's completely terrified."

"Who is he more terrified of, do you think? Us, or him?" Prentiss wonders, slightly baffled. She shakes her head, frowning ever so slightly. "Kid clearly learned from their mistrust of law enforcement, otherwise you'd think an abused, possibly kidnapped child would be at least a little relieved to be picked up by the cops?"

Hotch nods his chin, looking almost frustrated. "Most likely he was induced into the delusion at a very young age, though it is curious when you consider the fact he appears to be the only child involved with the group. All of whom are tight lipped, bloody, yet defiant. You'd think at least one would have broken by now if they were being held under duress by this man."

"It was their choice." Gideon concludes, stifling a sigh while wiping at his chin and lifting his shoulders. "Not like this is the first time we've seen a group willingly follow a less than favorable man."

J.J taps her fingers on the table top silently, leaning back in her seat with a concerned, understanding expression. "I know I've said this already, but what do you say about me having somebody come in to look at your eye? I'm worried you might have an infection under there."

"Just stop."

J.J straightens in her seat, frowning slightly, a bit surprised at the low, almost whispered response. It only takes her a moment of silence, waiting to see if the kid would elaborate further, but he only closes in on himself more, staring down at his lap rather than the table top with clamped lips, looking frustrated.

"Stop?" She questions, lightly, carefully. When he doesn't respond, she sighs quietly. At least there's progress being made, however slight. "It's a bit hard to stop worrying about you kid," She smiles sadly, tucking her hair behind her ear. "We just want to ask you some questions, figure out what you guys were doing out in the woods for so long."

The kid looks up at that comment, almost on instinct, before looking back down and shaking his head with a sigh through his nose. He looks monumentally uncomfortable, almost unnatural with his dirt covered, ragged appearance in the almost sterile interrogation room. J.J would have preferred to conduct this interview in a far less clinical setting but the entire sheriff's office is currently filled with officers, not only because of this current case, but also the ones dealing with the rest of the Chain-link killer's mess.

Those in the viewing room all turn as the door opens up, and a sheriff's deputy squints, jerking his head back over his shoulder. "One of yours asked for yah, says the lady with the sword is talkin'."

Hotch turns to Prentiss, nodding his head to her and Gideon. "You two go ahead, I'll stay and see if J.J makes any more progress."

"You mind if I stick around instead?" Gideon asks, turning his gaze back towards the pane of tempered glass. "There's a reason Grimes only wanted to know about him. I'd like to see if I can figure it out."

"Fine, but no confrontations until the child advocate arrives. Call us if you find out anything." Hotch turns to follow Prentiss out of the room with a nod and the two of them speed walk along with the sheriff's deputy towards interrogation room three.

"Hello?" The bloodied woman questions the empty interrogation room as the group walk in, Morgan turns towards them with a slight frown. She's pacing the length of the table and back in an almost calm fashion, face unreadable and stained with blood.

"Has she said anything else?" Hotch asks upon their entrance, dismissing the deputy sheriff with a nod. The man nods back in return, sending a glance towards the window before closing the door on his way out. The two turn to face Morgan, standing alongside him next to the one way mirror.

"No." Morgan shakes his head, sending them a sparse glance. "The kid talking yet?"

"No, but we're getting there. Slowly." Prentiss responds, jerking her chin towards the pacing woman. "What's our approach here?"

"We need to suss out her relationship with Grimes, see if we can get any leads from her as to what delusion their living out is. That is, if there even is one."

Morgan looks over at Hotch, raising an eyebrow. "You think they're faking it?"

"Wouldn't be the first time that's happened." Prentiss shrugs deftly, shooting him a lowered look. "People hear they can get an easier sentence with an insanity plea, so they act crazy. I can't say comfortably that that's what's happening here however. They know we haven't found anything for a conviction yet, at the very least Grimes does, so what's the point in acting?"

"Maybe it's just in case we have something?" Morgan lifts a shoulder, frowning towards the lean woman and her stained, crossed arms. "That or they actually have something to hide. I've got a suspicious feeling that that isn't Bambi's blood they're all covered in."

"Hello..?" The woman sends a glance towards the one way mirror, sighing through her nose and glancing towards the door sporadically. Her facial appearance is calm, but it is quite clear she is fraught with tension, the muscles in her arms twitching here and there.

"Morgan, you and Prentiss go, see how she reacts to a direct confrontation. If it looks like she's just going to stay quiet, come out and we'll regroup."

"Alright, how do you want to play this?" Prentiss questions as they make their way out of the viewing room. "I'll play good cop?"

"That works." Morgan nods, and with one last final look, he turns the knob and enters interrogation room three.

"Have you found anything?" Reid asks the moment his ear touches the phone, and the frantic clacking of keys in the background is an almost calming noise amongst the rapid firing of his thoughts. Rick Grimes has taken to staring at the table top, looking carefully blank, yet displeased. He's clearly not a man that's fond of being out of control.

"I have never dealt with a more frustrating group in my life Spencer!" Garcia sounds absolutely frazzled, nearly growling into the receptor. "I ran the name through the database, got a few pop ups, none matching the description of our guy, and get this, the one that did? Died at age 5 from T.B. Sad, sad, world we live in."

Reid can understand her frustration, he's not so far behind himself. How is it they're completely wiped from the map? Could just be that the man gave them a fake name, perhaps it's just the identity he's adopted for himself since the start of his delusion, in that case, it would make sense that a match wouldn't be made. Given that their faces have also escaped their lengthy database, there are very few, very unlikely remaining conclusions as to how these people have been successfully living off the grid for so long.

"It's probably a fake name, don't be too hard on yourself." Reid chews at his lip, contemplative. "Delusions of these sorts usually surround themselves around some element of fantasy, see if you can find any stories with that name, folk lore, old legends. It's probably got something relating to being off the grid." He's just throwing out guesses at this point, and it is endlessly frustrating.

"Alright sweet-cheeks, I'll see what I can do. Don't you worry, mama's getting peed-off now. Garcia signing off."

Reid pulls the phone from his ear, pocketing it with a tense frown. He checks his watch. That's seven hours now.