--Have fun boys and girls!--
9
There were seven dead bodies now. And Deaton was not happy about it.
"This would have been solved so much earlier if you didn't have the extra baggage." He mumbled. Hotch, who was standing closest to him, ignored him.
Gideon looked at the body, running over the details of the case in his head. He turned to Morgan.
"This is out of pattern," Gideon said. Morgan nodded. "It's too soon for him to devolve so quickly." Morgan shook his head.
"I don't know Gideon," He said. "We know he's intimidated by us being here. We know he's smart enough to slow down Garcia, but he's sloppy enough to leave a body in plain sight."
"But why water? Always, these women are always left by water but they were never drowned."
"Water has to be the stressor that's obvious," Hotch said, joining the other two. "I think as soon as Garcia breaks through this guy's firewall we'll have what we need," He said. Gideon was staring at the dead body, at a loss.
This man was meticulous, sadistic, but cowardice enough to blindfold his victims. Cowardice enough to hide wherever he went so no one would notice anything and everything he did. He taunted the Police whenever he could, like slowing Garcia down in her hunt to find this man. But he would never hold a face-to-face confrontation. Like when they were at the construction site. He fled. He almost killed Reid, but once again, that cowardice came into play. And, it wasn't the right conditions for him to kill. He had a ritual. A ritual that was becoming shorter and more violent as time went on. But as long as there was water, murder was inevitable.
"We're missing something." Gideon said. Morgan nodded in agreement.
"Deaton wants to know what we should do next." Hotch said, approaching with Emily and J.J. behind him. "And I honestly don't know what to tell him."
"We've got the profile out. We've warned everybody to be careful around bodies of water," Emily said. "What else do we need?" Gideon sighed.
"We need Reid."
I think I'm right. Correction I know I'm right. Well, maybe. My eye lids felt heavy as I stared at the boards again. The second dose of Amytal I had taken this morning was starting to kick in. But I wasn't about to let myself sleep. I had to talk to Penelope, or Morgan or Gideon. I really didn't want to talk to Hotch, he sort of scared me a little. He always looked so mad.
I forced my eyes to stay open and I turned around, heading for the door where I could talk to Penelope. I was about halfway there when I got dizzy.
I steadied myself on the table. I didn't need this now! Not now! Please, please not now!
It's too late. Other Me thought. I'm too late. I know, I just know Nathan did it. I had no idea where I was, or where Other Me was going. Who's Nathan? Other Me's heart was going ninety miles an hour as he approached the bad looking building that said "Motel" on a glowing sign. Please don't let me be too late. I'm begging you please. Other Me thought. I think he was praying, but it wasn't specific. There was something else I didn't understand, God.
Other Me was standing over a boy, a young boy. His wrists were bleeding, the blood coming in torrents. To my horror Other Me wrapped his own hands around his wrists, like he was trying to hold the blood inside.
"Nathan," Other Me said, frantic. "Nathan can you hear me?" The boy was looking at me, his face chalk white. I was breathing hard and fast, my heart thudded in my chest, the warm blood trickled over my hands. To my surprise we aren't alone. There's another woman screaming something at me a few feet away and I can hear Penelope behind me.
"Let me die," Nathan gasped. "I don't want to hurt anyone. Let me die."
Other Me couldn't. This boy, there was hope for him. Hope that he might not kill anyone. Hope that he would fight his urges to kill. And Other Me was hanging onto that hope now.
"I, I can't do that Nathan." Other Me stammered, his voice shaking. God all the blood. What if this boy did die? Then what? Penelope was saying something to me but I couldn't hear her, my heart beat was too loud.
Where is the ambulance?! Other Me screamed in his head.
Suddenly someone touches my shoulder.
"Sir you can let go." The calm voice says.
No, if I let go he'll die. I can't let go.
"Sir, let go." The voice repeated.
I can't let him go. He will die. And it will be my fault. Who's talking anyway?
"Sir, we need to get him to the hospital, you have to let go."
Paramedic. Other Me recalled. He let Nathan go reluctantly, a feeling in the pit of his stomach that this was his fault. Something he could have prevented.
I was back in the Con France room, gripping the table so tight my fingers hurt under white knuckles. Nathan had tried to take his own life. He tried to kill himself, but not with a gun. No, guns leave holes, not long lines of blood. I have no idea what it is.
Why would anyone want to die? How could anyone try and end their existence on Earth?
I looked down at my hands, making sure the young boy's blood was gone. I saw my hands shaking, and so was the rest of me.
I'm not taking anymore of that drug. I can't. Other Me's life was awful. There was no happiness from what I could tell. He had no happy memories. Well, except the one with Lila.
I want to know who I am. Who I'm supposed to be. But not like this. Not through painful and agonizing memories that made me want to explode every time I saw something that reminded me of it.
I had remembered my Father last night. How he left me to take care of Mom without another thought. He just abandoned us.
I shook my head. There was something I had to do. I had to tell everyone that I knew who this unsub was, where he was, and how close he had come to him. It seemed obvious now. It made sense. I shook my head again, fighting my stubborn eyes again and walked out of the room, toward Penelope.
"Are you sure?" Garcia asked. Spencer nodded. "How do you know?" She asked.
"I don't really know," He admitted. "I just, I looked at the boards in there and it all came together. My head was going so fast I have no idea how I got the answer, but I did. I think if you do a background check on this guy it might make more sense." His eyes grew, like he hadn't meant to say that,
"You have no idea where that came from do you?" Garcia asked. Spencer shook his head. Garcia giggled. "Well, at this rate you'll be back to normal in no time." She said.
"Now can you tell me the name again?" She asked. Spencer looked at the ground.
"I only know what he looks like, I don't know his name." He said quietly. Garcia nodded. She had broken through the roadblock the unsub had laid out and still found nothing that important that he was trying to hide. He had blocked the Police database that held the description, location, and residence of each officer in the Toledo station. Weird.
She brought up the picture of each officer and moved out of the way so Spencer could see.
"Can you show me which one?" She asked. Spencer leaned forward. He looked so exhausted, physically and mentally. Garcia wondered how much sleep he had gotten in the last, well, almost 48 hours now. He scanned the monitor quickly, lightly pushing a lock of his hair behind his ear. Garcia scrolled down at a steady pace, watching in amazement how fast Spencer's eyes darted back and forth across the screen.
"There," He said, suddenly pointing at a face. "That's him."
"Are you sure?" Garcia asked. He nodded. "I'll call Hotch." She said. She reached for her phone but stopped when Spencer stumbled back. She turned around quickly. After he had stumbled he was swaying where he stood, a hand pressed to his forehead, his eyes closed.
"Spencer what's wrong?" She asked. He shook his head.
"I don't know." He whispered. It might be the medicine, it might be the lack of sleep, it might be an injury Dr. Manning missed.
Garcia grasped his shoulders gently and sat him down in an office chair that was parked at an unused desk.
"Can you tell me what's the matter?" She asked gently. Spencer shook his head and opened his eyes.
"I don't…know." He said, even quieter than the first time. Garcia was starting to panic.
"Spencer," She said, lifting his chin when his head drooped. "Do you feel okay?" She asked. Once again he shook his head.
"I don't, feel right." God his voice was quiet. He couldn't keep his eyes open for more than a few seconds. Garcia lifted her hand to his forehead.
"You're burning up." She said. Spencer looked confused.
"Wassat mean?" He slurred.
"You have a fever." Garcia said. Spencer still had no clue what she had just said. She grabbed her cell phone off of her desk, flipped it open and pressed a button.
"Hotch," She said a few seconds later. "There's something wrong with Reid. I don't know what to do." She said frantically. "Okay…okay. Oh! He figured out who the unsub is…I don't know. His name's Harrison Black…Yes…Okay…I will. Please hurry."
"Penelope," Spencer said, his voice so soft it was barely audible. "What's wrong with me?" He asked. Garcia gave a fake small smile.
"We're gonna find out okay?" She assured. "I'll be right back okay?" She said. Hotch said he would be here soon, and in the mean time she should take the usual household remedies to get rid of this fever.
"God what the hell is going on?" She whispered.
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