Chapter Seven

At the police station, the team was seated and waiting for Hotch to bring them all up to date, when Reid sprinted in. He had his customary coffee mug in one hand, notebook in the other, jacket hung over one arm, and his hair was wet. He sported a red plain red T-shirt, and looked as neat as always but completely out of character. Morgan and Prentiss exchanged knowing glances - their little brother did definitely not come directly from his hotel room. J.J. bit her lip and stifled a giggle. Rossi stared at Reid, puzzled.

"What?" challenged Reid as he sat down. Morgan chuckled.

"Okay, we have a positive ID on the one in custody," focused Hotch,"the bite marks match the dental records of one Brandon Fleiss."

The team all focused on the files in front of them, which contained mug shots and criminal history and documentation on Fleiss. "What about the other one? Do we know who he is?" asked Morgan.

"Not yet. Fleiss has been busy. Two priors for sexual contact with a minor, one domestic battery - on his grandmother."

Prentiss squirmed in her chair, "I'll bet the forensics from the murders will match him too. So what's the plan?"

"Morgan and Rossi will interview Fleiss. We need to know who the partner is, and where they have taken the children."

"You think they are still alive?" wondered Morgan.

"We don't know exactly why they took them," speculated Rossi, "There is always a chance that Jacob would keep them alive - they are his own flesh and blood."

"He doesn't seem to have any qualms about that so far..." mumbled Prentiss, "he watched as they butchered his own wife, or did it himself."

"What about Leah?" asked Reid,"How is she?"

"Traumatized," stated J.J., "she hasn't spoken since they got her to the hospital. She's pretty beat up, and has a minor head injury. They'll keep her for a few days for observation before letting her go home."

"Home isn't a safe place," said Rossi.

"Well, we'll have a few days to think about that," said Hotch.

"Wait a minute," said Morgan, standing up to pace and think as he spoke, "why would Fleiss come back for Leah? We know why Jacob would want her...but why would Fleiss risk getting caught?"

"Jacob was with him," said Rossi. "It would have taken at least two of them to set the barn afire, and take Leah without being seen."

Penelope had been watching the team's discussion from her computer-laden cave back at the BAU. Now she had some information to offer. "What do you have Garcia?" prompted Hotch.

"Hello Puppets. You are all out there in the beautiful countryside and I am up to my ears in city traffic and road construction, for which reason I have been stuck in traffic until just a few minutes ago, but...I do have some interesting information on Mr. Brandon Fleiss. He grew up where you are, pretty average childhood, normal kid until he beat up his grandmother at seventeen and spent some time in Juvie."

"We know all that..." began Hotch.

"Ah, but here is what you don't know - while there he took up as a best buddy one Derrick Kramer - sorry Morgan - who at the ripe old age of 18 had been convicted of trafficking child porn."

Rossi and Hotch exchanged a concerned look. "Where is this Kramer now?" asked Rossi.

"Way ahead of you. He is living on a large wooded acreage that backs up to a large wooded expanse of government land. In other words, miles and miles of woods. I located a mailing address, which was a post office box of course, but after that I tracked down his actual place of residence. Texting you driving directions."

"Thanks, Garcia," said Hotch, and then to the team, "let's see if this Kramer has anything to do with these kids. First we need to talk to Fleiss. Hopefully we will get confirmation that Kramer is the partner and know where to start looking. The rest of you stay nearby."

~~/~~

Aubrey was driving back from a morning search and rescue dog training session, when her cellphone rang. She felt her heart race when she saw Spencer's name come onto the screen. It could have have been from excitement, but it wasn't. It was just cold fear.

The night with him had brought surprises, to be sure. Spencer was a tender, careful lover. He seemed to take time to watch her, to know her, as his hands and mouth explored her. He never left her - never wandered away from the connection. He wasn't afraid of it. He often stopped and looked into her eyes, so long that she grew uncomfortable - but she couldn't look away. She was drawn into the dark brown abyss of his penetrating, demanding gaze. He wasn't afraid of the connection their spirits made, and he insisted upon that connection. She had awakened in the morning and realized that not once had she felt humiliated, not once had the things he was doing hurt her, not once had she felt pressured into doing something to him that she didn't want to do. This was all new to her. To be so free, so accepted, to not have to perform for a man. This was new to her. And to have been maskless and naked all night long - even while it was healing her soul - terrified her.

But to walk away from this man was something she couldn't do. Since leaving John, she had felt such relief. There was never a day of emptiness - there was only freedom and peace. Aubrey no longer dreaded nightfall, or avoided the look in a man's eye that told her she would have a job to do soon, to please him. Now there was no man, and no job, and she started to learn who she was again. She had learned to be alone, and live alone, and stop craving a man's touch. And she had been content. But the first time she saw Spencer, saw his hair fall into his eyes, saw his long fingers, heard his soft, smooth, quirky voice - all of her self-imposed rules of isolation had melted away. She had started down a path of trying-once-more, a path of some kind of unreasonable hope, that love could feel good. And that journey had culminated with her welcoming him into her bed, her life, the peaceful places of her life. Now, she found she wanted to stop it, but that she couldn't resist the momentum; the hope was sweet and enticing, and growing so much stronger than the fear.

Aubrey looked at the phone and hesitated, wondering how long it would be before the sight of his call coming in would be a happy feeling. His voice was kind as always. He asked her to meet him at the hotel for lunch.

She drove home to drop off Griffon. The house was cool from a summer breeze that had wafted through the open windows for hours. She stopped and stared at the unmade bed; she felt detached from it, as if someone else had passed the sweet hours there with Spencer. As if she hadn't deserved to embrace that sweetness. His body was warm, and his slender arms strong. The scent of him was strangely familiar to her as if she had known it before somewhere. She remembered that the smell of John's skin had always made her tense, and she shuddered.

Spencer's dress shirt lay on the chair where he had accidently left it behind. A formal gray with thin lavender stipes. He had worn one of her own T-shirts when he left, probably not wanting to be seen in the same shirt as yesterday. She started to pick it up to take it to the hotel with her, but then stopped and put it down again, feeling a small flush of guilt for not wanting to part with it yet - she would launder it for him. She left the bed unmade and went to open the doggy door for Griff. Spencer had laughed when she said that she kept it locked much of the time, for fear an intruder would find it an easy entry. "It's a big door," he had said, "Big door means big dog. Would you want to crawl through there head first?"

Spencer was waiting at a quiet table in the corner of the sun-drenched restaurant when Aubrey arrived. He stood when he saw her, smiling shyly, and placed a hand on her shoulder as she sat down.

"We have two names," he said, before Aubrey could breathe a word of small talk. Spencer leaned in closer and pronounced the names carefully to her, "Brandon Fleiss. Derrick Kramer. Do you know either one of them?"

Taken aback by his abrupt focus on the case, Aubrey stared at him for a few moments. "Uh...yes. I do. I went to high school with one of them. Uh...Brandon, I knew him. He was into some bad things though. We didn't really run with the same crowd, you know."

Spencer nodded. "What about Kramer?"

"No. Brandon...went away for awhile, to jail. I heard. When he came back he was different. I mean, he was always pretty wild. He used to sit in back of me in math class and joke about being high," she laughed.

Spencer frowned slightly. "Do you see him now?"

"Well, it's a small town. You know. He's around. He works at the garage on 8th street, where Ward crosses it. He parties a lot. He has some friend with a cabin up north."

"What?" Spencer interrupted. "Where?"

"I don't know." Aubrey was nervous at his intensity. "Some guy he knew from jail. He has a cabin I guess."

"Where?"

"I don't know!" Aubrey was a little defensive now. He had hardly said 'hello' to her, and now she felt like she was being interrogated. He was changed since this morning, when he had been warm and responsive to her. He had sung - badly - in the shower, and gratefully accepted a large mug of coffee as he dressed. He had been funny and made her laugh. He had kissed her - deeply - when he left. He was different now. Cool. She knew he had the urgency of the case on his mind, she understood that. She was trying not to feel slighted or to be selfish. But something had changed and she felt a knot growing in the pit of her stomach. A familiar fear she had learned to anticipate years ago. A fear that she had called it all wrong, that nothing was at it seemed. Again.

But Spencer didn't see her discomfort - he was already on the phone. "Morgan! Aubrey says Fleiss has a friend from juvie with a cabin up north. She doesn't know where, but it could be Kramer."

It slowly dawned on Aubrey what was happening. "Are the children there?" she asked frantically as Spencer hung up.

"I don't know," he said, "Maybe." He stood up.

"I'm sorry...I have to go."

"What?"

"I have to be ready. Hotch and Rossi are talking to Fleiss now. If he tells them where it is, we'll be going to the cabin." He looked down at her, "Finish your lunch."

Aubrey watched him stop on the way out to pay the cashier. She suddenly realized she had no further appetite and slid her chair back. She was leaving the table when he suddenly appeared again. "Oh! By the way, uh...I'll give you your shirt back too. I am going upstairs to change.

Aubrey forced a smile, "Whenever."

She stepped around him to leave, suddenly feeling angry again. "Well, I don't want to keep it.." he said, "You know, in case you want it or something."

Aubrey breathed deeply. She was ashamed of herself, being so stupid as to leave his shirt at her house. She didn't want it now. She looked up into his face and spoke her words lowly and slowly so as not to call attention to them from fellow diners, "Spencer, I really don't care what you do with it." Then she walked out of the restaurant.

Without turning she could feel him following her into the lobby. "What? Are you mad at me?" he was asking behind her. "What did I do?"

She whirled to face him. "Spencer, I ..." she looked around and lowered her voice again, "I spent the NIGHT with you. You hardly said hello to me!"

"I'm sorry!" he said, looking away from her. "I'm just...working."

She didn't believe him. He had been far less than warm with her at lunch. "You have been talking to me for the last half hour like I'm an acquaintance," she said.

He stood and looked across the room and out the window at some imaginary fascination in the street. She could feel his mind turning, and saw his cheek twitch. She resolved to walk out and not look back. These games were exhausting for her. She had played far too many of them, years ago, enough of them for a lifetime. Now, she was tired. And she wouldn't do this again. She turned to go.

"Aubrey.." he said. "Please stop."

She did, and stood with her back to him, breathing deeply to keep her self-control.

"Would you...just come upstairs with me? And talk to me? Please?"

Aubrey turned slowly and looked at him. "Please?" he said again.

He led her to the elevator. They didn't speak on the way up, and Aubrey thought she might be sick. She wanted to be anywhere but here. But if he didn't want her she wanted to know why, how he could have spent the night with her and been so changed now. How she could have so misjudged him. Her mind was fairly screaming for an answer. She couldn't leave without it.

Inside Spencer's room all was orderly. There were a few books on the nightstand - one in German. He took off his gunbelt and laid it gently on the table. Then he moved a chair in front of her and nodded.

"You going to ask me more questions?" Aubrey demanded petulantly. She regretted it immediately.

Spencer looked down at her, so beautiful. He felt his heart sink and knew what he needed to say. He had to be fair to her, after all. She hadn't done anything wrong. It was all him. He shouldn't have stayed with her the night before. He sat on the edge of the bed.

"Aubrey...there are a lot of things," then he stopped, confused. He looked at the floor. "I live in Virginia! I work impossible hours, and... I mean, what are we doing?"

She was silent and looking past him at the window. He studied her eyes...bright and gray now...and wondered if she were fighting tears. He couldn't tell. He couldn't read anything on her face. He felt as if she had already left the room. Left his life."There is a lot you don't know," he continued, somehow more comfortable sharing about himself as she shut down and shut him away, "my...my mother is a schizophrenic hospitalized in Las Vegas!" a small laugh escaped him. "Three years ago, I was kidnapped by an unsub and tortured for two days, and afterward," he looked down at his hands, "...afterward I got addicted to a drug...Aubrey...you have a life here. This would never work." He chuckled nervously, trying to make light of it all, make it all easier and less painful.

Aubrey sat silent and still for so many continuous moments that he thought his head might explode. Finally she said slowly, "Why did you stay with me last night?" She didn't look at him, but continued to stare at the window.

"What?"

"Why did you do that?"

Spencer was at a loss. He had stayed because he had looked at her and had no choice. Because once in his life, he wanted to make love to a woman that moved him to his core. Perhaps he had been selfish...

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Are you," she said, and laughed coldly. It wasn't a question. Then she stood and turned to leave. She reached the door and turned back to face him. Spencer was standing by the bed, helpless, hopeless, confused by his own uncertainty in the face of this. He'd always been a mess when it came to girls. He was only doing what he thought he should. When she turned around her face was wet.

She strode toward him with such determination that he took a step back and nearly tumbled onto the bed. "You're a liar, Spencer," she said, crying, "you aren't sorry at all. You know what? I've been terrified of you! Terrified at what I felt for you! I ...don't you understand? I jumped off a cliff last night! I jumped off a cliff, Spencer!" She stopped to catch her breath. He started to reach for her and she stepped back, out of his reach. "You weren't even worth it," she said then. "I was so stupid! You're a coward, and you aren't worth it." She looked down at the floor and added, so softly that he almost didn't hear it, "And you aren't worth ME." Then she turned and was gone.

Spencer stood stunned, his heart pounding. He realized suddenly that he hadn't even heard the door close. Although he couldn't quite comprehend in his confusion what he had done wrong, he was certain that she was right about all of it. He had made a disaster of everything.

Spencer stumbled into the bathroom and threw himself at the foot of the toilet basin, vomiting. His own self-loathing made his head spin, and he rested his head on the toilet rim and closed his eyes. When he did, he could see nothing but her face as she screamed at him. "You're a coward." "You aren't worth ME." He had almost done it. In spite of all his dark past, he had almost done it - caused this incredible female to want him. And he had ambushed it - safer to end it before she could. He heard himself moan aloud, and then to his amazement he heard himself sobbing. Why had he done this?

~~/~~

In the first hours after her encounter with Spencer, Aubrey was distraught. She drove home with tears blurring her vision, grateful that she was in town and the speed limit was only 30mph, the route familiar. She prayed that she would not pass someone who knew her, who would see her face and ask questions. When she arrived home, she stripped the bed, and washed the sheets. She vacuumed. She wanted to wash every bit of him out of her house, her life. At the end of three hours the house was spotless. She was reminded once again: God had taken a lot from her in her life, but he had made her strong and resilient. This experience would not be in vain. She would be wiser next time. If there was ever a next time.

She tried to force her mind away from Spencer and it wandered to John. He had been so different from Spencer. There were dark moments locked away in Aubrey's mind that she had never told to anyone, partly because there were no words. Moments where in the dark of night he had made her do things. Things she hadn't wanted, things that made her feel like less of a human being. Things that made her feel ugly. A toy. A nothing. If she were honest with herself, they had also happened in the daylight. Her humiliation had never moved him, it only made him more excited, more determined to go through with his fantasy. And through the months and the years, her soul had suffered a wound that she had yet to find a way to heal.

Aubrey had never stopped hating herself for allowing it to go on for three years. Three years of her life, lost. And three years in which she was taught lessons she couldn't seem to unlearn. In her more self-forgiving moments, she told herself that she had been so alone, after Edith died, and then William. She would have done anything, lived with anyone, put up with anything. Anyone to be with, to take care of her. That's why she had stayed too long. But in other moments, when she was suffering the most regret, the darkest of memories, she knew nothing but self-chastisement. Any idiot would have left earlier...

And now she was paying the price. Those years had taught her well, to see the signs. To know when the world was going to explode. But this time she had been so stupid. She had let him get to her. This man. This Spencer Reid. She had let him see the deepest most private parts of her spirit and she was so ashamed now. And worse, she still hadn't learned enough to see rejection coming and prevent it. She had walked right into it. She had, in fact, led HIM into it. She was so stupid that she had not waited for Spencer to take the lead. She had done it for him. No wonder he looked down on her now. No wonder it was so easy for him to do this. She had broken her first rule: she had given him all the power.

She picked his shirt up off the chair, but was unable to throw it into the bundle of laundry. She put it to her face and inhaled its scent. It occurred to her that for a few days, and a few intense hours, she had believed. Even if what she believed in hadn't been real, she had been able to live in that place for awhile. Spencer had made her feel like the world was right again - and she had not felt that in many years. She had those few hours and that memory. Even his abhorrent behavior couldn't change it - she had had that experience in this lifetime, for a few hours, and he couldn't ever take it from her. She opened the bottom drawer of the bureau, a drawer she seldom used, and stuffed the shirt into it. If he wanted it back he could come and get it.