Penelope kept her hands clasped tight over her ears, blocking out as much sound as she could. Seeing it was bad enough. Hearing it was too much.
She kept her eyes glued to her monitor and tried not to let her gaze drift to whatever sparkly doodad was closest. She needed to focus. She needed to solve this. As much as it disturbed her, frightened her, pained her, she would keep watching.
On the screen, her babies stood spaced out and pointing their weapons at an unsub holding a gun to a woman's head. Hotch was speaking. When his efforts failed, Reid holstered his gun and stepped forward. He kept his hands held in front of him, speaking gentle, understanding words to the unsub.
All at once, the unsub's weapon moved from the woman to Reid. His hand jerked and there was a flash as the weapon fired. Even with the volume turned down and her hands pressed over her ears, Penelope jumped as if the weapon had gone off right next to her.
In the video, Reid collapsed to the ground, blood pooling around him so fast it looked like the video was fast-forwarding. Hotch came to his aid, the rest of the team subdued the unsub and helped the hostage.
Penelope's eyes stayed on Spencer Reid. She saw him gasp and writhe on the floor. His skin grew pale and his eyes dull. His movements slowed. The low-resolution video didn't show his shallow breathing. He looked as still as a corpse.
Hotch moved aside only when the medics arrived. They carted Reid off to a hospital where doctors performed a miracle. Reid was still with them. He'd pulled through this near tragedy.
Penelope rewound the video to watch again. She slowed it down, analyzing the footage frame by frame, zooming in to check details, and enhancing portions of grainy material. She found the moment, the exact, pivotal moment just before Hotch stepped aside. That moment when Reid ceased to move. It was like Tobias Hankel all over again. Spencer lay on the floor, suffering, dying, but somehow surviving. That single frame gave Garcia more nightmares than the entire video.
"Baby girl, again?"
Penelope jumped for the second time. This time the sound was not just in her head. She turned around to see Morgan watching her with a furrowed brow.
"Don't sneak up on me!" Garcia complained.
"Don't sit at your desk with your hands over your ears," he teased. He came up behind Penelope's chair and leaned over to inspect the image on the screen.
"You have got to stop obsessing over this," he said.
"I can't help it," Garcia argued. "It's been months but every time I close my eyes I see him lying there like some victim and I then I feel awful that I clump all the victims together in my mind and I don't take the time to think of them as people and then I think about how Reid can keep all that information stored in his perfect memory and then I think about how he looked when he was shot and I come right back to this!" She gestured wildly at the screen.
Morgan sighed. "I know, baby girl. It scares me too. But you have to remember that no matter what happens, he is sitting right out there in that bullpen."
"Well, Derek, that's the thing," Penelope spun around to face him. "He isn't always there."
"Are you and Rossi on the same schedule? I've heard him mutter a complaint or two about the kid wandering off. I promise he is sitting out there right now."
"Then why isn't he showing up on the security feed?"
Instead of answering, Derek dispatched a cowering glare at the tech genius. "Garcia, have you been hacking the FBI security cameras?"
Penelope's mouth dropped open in horror at the accusation. A minute later it closed, and her expression turned guilty. "Look, sometimes when the memories get bad, I need to see for myself that he's all right. So, I pull up the cameras for the bullpen and maybe I have the world's worst timing because I'm always looking when he's in the bathroom or getting coffee."
Derek grinned. "It's comforting to know your stalking skills aren't infallible."
"Now is not the time to insult my goddess-like observational abilities, Derek Morgan."
"Sorry, mama," he said, giving her a friendly peck on the cheek. "Show me your skills right now. I promise he's there. I just walked past him on my way in here. He's sitting at his desk."
Grumbling, Penelope clicked away at her keyboard, pulling up a new window on the screen. The live feed from the security camera showed the bullpen from above. Agents and assistants worked through stacks of files, occasionally moving about the room. Right in the middle of the screen was an unmistakably empty desk.
The grin fell from Morgan's lips.
"See, Morgan? He's not there. He's never there."
"…That doesn't make sense," Morgan mumbled. "The kid was sitting there a minute ago. I teased him. Knocked over his pencil holder. Look…"
Penelope could see half a dozen pens and pencils strewn across the desktop. More were likely on the floor.
Morgan continued, "Did I take things too far? Is Reid upset?"
Without waiting for Penelope to respond, Morgan turned and strode out of her office. Penelope watched him go then turned back to the monitor. Seconds later, she saw Morgan enter the bullpen and walk up to Reid's desk. He had his back to the camera, but his posture was relaxed. She even saw his shoulders shake like he was talking and laughing. He bent down and collected the scattered writing utensils from the floor.
The moment Morgan's figured dipped below the desk, Penelope saw something that made her heart stop. The pencil cup righted itself. The half-dozen pencils rolled into a neat pile and seemed to float into their holder. Then Morgan stood and dropped his handful of pencils in with the rest.
Penelope blinked. That couldn't be possible. Something was wrong with the cameras or her monitor. It was a malfunction of technology. That was the only logical explanation.
If technology was to blame, then why was cold sweat dripping down Garcia's neck? Why were her hands shaking? Why did she have a horrible feeling that something was terribly wrong?
On the screen, Morgan turned and flashed the camera a grin. Then he turned and continued off in the direction of his office. He obviously thought he'd reassured her. He had no idea that things were worse. Things were so much worse.
This time, Penelope didn't rewind the tape. She didn't analyze the footage frame by frame. She sat in her chair, shaking and cold.
If she thought the video of Spencer being shot was bad, this one was even worse.
- O -
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