Lost in a Memory
Chapter Four
By The Chronicler
Elle stood at the edge of the pool of blood. "This is wrong." she observed, mostly to herself.
Sheriff Jackson finished signing something one of his men handed to him, before asking "You find a murder scene wrong? Blood splatter, missing bodies, an amnesiac witness…. Wrong? Whatever could possibly be wrong?"
Elle crossed her arms over her chest. "That's just it. It isn't splatter." She shook her head as she crouched down at the edge of the blood. "Look at it. It's nearly a perfect circle, except for where the foot prints went through. If a body was here and bled out, then there should be some… indication of where the body was." She shrugged. "This looks like… poured. Like it was poured out on to the floor." She rose to her feet again, jabbing a finger down at the puddle. "This scene isn't real. This was…"
"Staged." Gideon finished as he stood in the doorway.
"Gideon." Elle exclaimed looking back over her shoulder at him. "What are you doing here?"
Despite being surprised at his appearance, she couldn't help but be relieved to see him. He always seemed to be able to make sense out of what confused everyone else. Then again, he tended to confuse everyone else often enough.
Gideon stepped inside, his sharp gray eyes scanning the entry way, taking in every detail of the crime scene. "I was hoping to speak with Mister Domas."
Jackson huffed. "So was I." He eyed the new comer. "Another agent, huh? Or just another big brother?"
Gideon glanced at the man. "Big brother?" he repeated, tilting his head to one side.
Elle smiled. "The sheriff here has this theory that we all look after Reid like he's our kid brother or something."
"Deny it!" Jackson challenged.
The older agent stuck his bottom lip out for a second of thought, before answering with a simple "No." Then he turned and began to examine the bloody hand prints on the wall.
"No?" Sheriff Jackson glanced at Elle, then back at Gideon. "No what? No agent? No big brother?"
Gideon shrugged. "No, I won't deny it. In fact, I won't deny anything." Careful not to touch them, Gideon held his hand over the small hand print.
The palm was small, almost child size, but the fingers were long, artistic.
"Have we confirmed that these are Reid's?" he asked without being told that that was the suspicion.
Elle stiffened. "Reid didn't do this!" she repeated for…. Damn it, she lost count! But it was a lot of times!
Gideon frowned at her. "Of course he didn't." he agreed without question. "But he was here."
"Thank you." Jackson clapped his hands lightly and off to the side, as if he was applauding an opera. "I was beginning to think all the brain power on your team was flushed out with the kid's memory." Then again… "Why do you think the scene was staged?"
The agent looked about again. He waved a hand at the blood pool. "Poured, not bled." Another wave. "Hand prints are pressed directly on the wall, forming complete prints. An unnatural state for the hand unless pressed flat. Some low, but others too high for him to be trying to steady himself." A wave at the floor. "Footprints don't roll, which, if he was walking when they were made, would have."
The sheriff listened to all of this, looking at each point as it was made. He had already figured out half of that. But, there was one thing that the agents were forgetting. "Fact is, Agent Reid was here. Two people are missing. And that is a hell of a lot of human blood." He offered Elle a sarcastic smile. "And I have yet to hear from Agent Hotchner as to when I will be allowed to interview your kid."
Gideon turned to look at Elle, his eye brows raised in an unvoiced question. Did Hotch actually agree to letting the sheriff question Reid? How un-lawyer like of him.
But Elle kept her eyes on the sheriff as she answered "When I know, I will be sure to let you know." That said, she changed the subject by asking Gideon "How did you get here?"
Gideon shrugged, knowing Elle would fill him in when it was more appropriate. "In the neighborhood. Thought I'd drop in on an old acquaintance."
"Which you and Senator Domas were?" Jackson inquired. "How so?"
Elle put her hands on her hips. "Now Gideon is a suspect?" she growled.
Jackson sighed. "Little girl, for supposedly bein' a help in this little crime scene, you sure are a pain in the ass."
Gideon chuckled at that, earning himself a glare from his agent. Tilting his head to one side, he admitted to the sheriff "Domas and I have been on opposite sides of several arguments for a very long time. And, yes, one of which was the appointment of Dr Reid to the B.A.U."
Jackson scratched his chin, wondering "And what'd the Senator have against Reid?"
The agent blinked, shaking his head, a tilt to his smile. "You would have to ask Mister' Domas."
The sheriff huffed. "Now, wouldn't that make everything a hell of a lot easier. Just ask the missing, assumed murdered, man just what bug flew up his ass. Oh, and by the way, where is he, who killed him, and why couldn't he leave all that information bundled up all nice and neat in a little letter taped to the door. Video would have been nice."
Gideon smiled. "Yes, it would have been nice." he agreed. "Elle, we need to get the team together on this. Let's head back to Quantico."
Sheriff Jackson snapped his fingers in the air. "What a great idea. I'll get the car." he offered, leaving no room for argument as he headed out the door.
"Wonderful." Elle grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. "This aughta be fun." She looked at Gideon. "Something I should know about you and Domas?" she asked.
Gideon was once again holding his hand over a bloody hand print. "Why was he here?" he wondered.
Garcia stood at the top of the steps and glanced around the Bull Pen.
For the exception of the occasional intern or tech passing through or down one of the halls, there was no one to be seen.
Not entirely unexpected. After all, nearly everyone was out and about looking for their not-so missing agent.
Well, not so not so any more.
"Well, crap. Now where did he go?" Garcia groaned. Juggling a hot cup-of-soup in one hand and her huge litter mug with curly straw in the other, she stepped down into the Bull Pen and started looking around for Reid. "Turn my back for two seconds…." she started, but stopped when she saw the file cabinets between Reid's and Morgan's desks open, files scattered on the floor.
The drawers of the desks were also open. They had been rummaged through.
Garcia glanced about quickly. "Reid?" she whispered, a little afraid of who or what would answer. If anyone would answer.
There was a paper shuffling sound from the other side of Reid's desk.
Frowning, Garcia leaned over the desk.
Reid sat on the floor, one knee pulled up to his chest, the other leg stretched out to the side. All around him were scattered files, notes, pictures, profiles, reports… He chewed on the tip of his left thumb while his right hand absently scratched at the cuts on his arm. So engrossed in the files, he didn't even seem to notice his fingernails digging into the cuts, starting them to bleed.
Garcia stared at the mess. "Hotch is gonna have a freakin' stroke." she breathed. Though it wasn't just the chaos of the filed. Setting the soup and mug down on the desk, she dropped to her knees. "You're bleeding." she pointed out.
The young agent didn't seem to take notice of her, his eyes shifting about from one paper to the next to another.
Garcia sighed. Reaching out, she touched Reid's right hand, brushing it away from the bloody marks on his arm.
Instantly, Reid's head snapped away and down, his hands coming up to cup his ears as if her concerned touch had been a cruel blow. He scrambled back, bumping into the corner where the filing cabinet met his desk.
"Hey!" Garcia cried, startled at his reaction. "Take it easy! Calm down!"
His eyes shifted, glancing at her, then quickly away. "Leave me alone!" he hissed.
"Leave you…?" she huffed. "Yea, that'd be smart. Every time some one turns their back you're off and into trouble. Look at this mess!" she leaned forward, though making sure she didn't touch him. "Hotch is gonna have a stroke." she repeated. She paused, glancing around. "Did you read all of these?" she wanted to know.
Despite hands still cupped over his ears, Reid answered, shaking his head. "Don't need to. Already know what's in them. In them all. I know every word, every dotted I', every crossed t'. Every bloody finger print, every child rape, and serial monster, and fucking terrorist!" His voice rose until he was yelling. "I remember everything written in them!" But then his voice suddenly dropped to a whisper. "I…. I just don't remember them." His big eyes rose just enough to look at her. "Did… did I… we just write about…. .those things? Or did they really happen?"
Garcia glanced down at a file. She did remember it, and it had been a bad one. So bad, she couldn't help but shiver.
But, then again, how many of the files were good ones? After all, B.A.U. generally isn't called in to profile the local Girl Scout Leader.
Though she was pretty sure they had a bad one of those too.
Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, she admitted "I'd of thought you'd of wanted to forget most of this stuff. I mean… everything you guys see, everyday, out there… I mean sometimes I wish I could forget what I've seen!"
"You wish!" Reid hissed. In an angry fit, he grabbed a file and tossed it away from him. "I want to remember! Even this….this…." His hands balled up in fists and he pressed them against his eyes. "I do remember….. But I don't! I remember every word…." His hands dropped so he could look at her. "Did you know I shot someone? Shot him dead? I wrote it. I read it. Shot him in defense of…'" he left the quote hanging with a wave of a hand in the air. "But I don't remember! I don't remember pulling the trigger! I don't remember the sound! The gun slamming in my hand! I don't remember what it felt like to know that I had killed a man!" He looked down at his hands. "Did it feel natural? Did I get sick? Did it mean nothing to me that I took a life?" His hands balling up in fists again, he slammed them down on the floor in frustration. "I don't remember!"
"Of course it meant something!" Garcia snapped. "You're not an animal!" It was out of her mouth before she gave it any thought. Hell, anyone else called anyone on the team a cold blooded killer and she would of jumped on their back and given them a damn good reason to invest in hair plugs.
Reid looked up at her, blinking. "How do you know?" he wondered.
Garcia stumbled on what to say next. The obvious was easy. Just blurt it out. Backing it up without computer networking and virtual realities… now that was hard. "Well…. 'cause… I do. You're a sweet kid. Little geeky…. Okay, a lot geeky. But you're a good kid. Everyone likes you. Don't matter if you don't remember, 'cause I do! And you should always listen to the Goddess of the Information Highway! I! Know! Everything!" That said, she stood up, grabbed the cup-of-soup off the desk, and offered it down to him. "Eat!"
Someone cleared his throat.
Garcia's head snapped about.
Two hulking men in dark suits, government hair cuts, and suspicious budges under their jackets stood at the base of the steps.
Garcia's eyes narrowed. She didn't know these men. And she knew just about every one who came through here. Sure, she only took time to pry into the interesting files, the ones with the cute pictures, but she'd seen just about every pic of everyone who belonged in the building.
The advantage of running the computers info of the unit.
These two did not belong.
The one on the right offered a friendly smile, his perfect teeth almost dazzling. "Hello, ma'am. Who were you talking to, if you don't mind my asking?"
Garcia's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Me." she said just a little too quickly. Resisting the urge to glance down at the young agent who still sat on the floor, out of sight, she did her very best to look nonchalant.
And failing miserably.
Ending up leaning against the desk, tapping a nervous finger on the top of her coffee mug, she tried again "I mean…. me, and I do mind you're asking. Who are you?"
The man on the left stepped away from his companion, glancing about the floor. "Looks like you've had a bit of a disaster." he observed, poking at a file on the floor with the toe of his shoe.
"Yea, well the housekeeper has the day off." the woman growled. "Who are you? How'd you get through the front door?"
The man on the right walked directly toward her, while the man on the left continued to roam the Bull Pen. "We are looking for Dr. Reid. Where is he?"
Garcia shrugged. "What makes you think I know?"
The right man continued to smile. He reached up, unbuttoning his suit jacket. "Miss Penelope Garcia, computer jocky of the B.A.U." His head tilted to one side. "You know everything.."
Garcia crossed her arms over her chest. "Flattery'll get you no where with me, hot stuff. My heart belongs to another man."
The speaker chuckled, nodding. "Yes, I have no doubt that a woman such as yourself can fend off any form of flattery that comes your way." He turned his head to look at his companion.
The left man did not look pleased. Slipping out of his jacket, he laid it over the back of a chair and proceeded to adjust his shoulder holsters.
Garcia straightened, her eyes widening. "Look." she started, still trying to sound tough. "I don't know who you are. I don't know how you got in here. And I don't know where Agent Reid is. Maybe you should come back when one of the agents are… Ow!"
The right man suddenly reached out, grabbing her arm in a painful grip. His hand squeezing, his thumb digging into the soft bend of her arm, he still offered that friendly smile. "Miss Garcia, I know you are not stupid. I know that you know what will happen if you don't cooperate."
"Let go!" Garcia cried, tears leaping to her eyes as she tried to twist free. "You're hurting me!"
He shook his head sympathetically. "You're not paid to take this. So, why don't you just give me what I want and you can return to your cubicle and your virtual reality with nothing more than a little bruise and a bad memory."
"Let her go!" Reid yelled, rising up from his hiding spot. "Leave her alone!"
The left man instantly spun about on Reid, his hand landing on the butt of his gun.
But the right man held up his hand, calming his partner.
"Reid…" Garcia gasped, her knees wobbling from the pain as iron fingers squeezed just a little harder.
"Let her go!" the young agent practically screamed at the man, his hand coming up, aiming a small pistol directly at his head.
The right man turned his friendly smile on the boy. His grip turned gentle as he moved Garcia to the side and out of the way. "Thank you for your company, Miss Garcia. But it would be best if your returned to your cubicle now."
Garcia, cradling her bruised arm against her chest, hesitated, glancing back at Reid.
She couldn't just leave him.
But wasn't like she was a real agent or anything. No one taught her anything about Kong Fu or whatever crap they taught agents!
She was a computer tech. A hacker!
If they were waging war in binary code, she'd be freakin' Zena the Warrior Princess!
But this real life stuff…
"It's alright, Garcia." Reid encouraged, cocking the pistol. "Don't worry about me." he told her, his tone sounding far too calm for her liking.
The man standing in front of him seemed unaware of the gun pointed directly at his chest.. "That's right, Miss Garcia. No need for you to worry that pretty, little head of yours. Dr. Reid and I are just going to have a little chat."
Even as she backed away, Garcia mustered the courage to shake her head. "Uh-uh. No way. I'm goin' no where, buddy, ol' pal. Think I'm gonna leave him alone with you? Not a chance in hell! Think I don't know men in black when I see them? Turn my back and you'll probably harvest his brain or some super secret shit like that!"
The Left man threw her a glare, a mixture of disbelief and threat. "This isn't some X-Files computer game, tootsie!" he growled a warning.
"Tootsie?" Garcia held up a hand. "Excuse me, did you just call me… tootsie?" She jabbed a finger at him, and ordered Reid "Shoot that one first!"
"Dr. Reid isn't going to shoot anyone." the right man assured softly as he took a step toward his target. "Dr. Reid is not a killer. It isn't in him to shoot anyone."
Reid's eyes narrowed. "You haven't been reading the same files I have."
"I would suggest you back the hell away from my agent!" Hotch warned as he came down the steps. His suit jacket was open, one hand on the butt of his gun, the other reaching out to take Garcia by the elbow and pull her behind him.
The right man's eyes shifted slightly, the only acknowledgement he gave that anyone else had entered the scene. He left that to his partner.
"You don't want a part of this, Agent Hotchner." the left man called out, trying to draw the agent's attention away from Reid and the right man.
"Standing in an F.B.I. Office, threatening an F.B.I. Agent, telling an F.B.I. Boy scout that it's none of his bee's wax?" Garcia barked out a laugh.
"Would you shut the hell up?" the left man snapped at her.
"Make me, bubble head!"
"Enough!" Hotch snapped at both of them. To the right man he said "You need to back away from him now." he ordered one more time.
The right man sighed, still smiling at Reid. "This could have been so much easier, so much quicker." Raising his hands up, he slowly turned to face Hotch. "Take it easy, agent Hotchner. I am reaching for my identification." very carefully he pulled from his breast pocket a badge, holding it out for inspection. "We are from the sheriff's department. We have orders to locate and take in to question Dr. Reid." he informed Hotch.
Hotch frowned. "Sheriff Jackson agreed to leave him our custody and question him under our roof."
The right man shrugged. "Well, he wasn't in your custody, was he?" he pointed out. "A sick, little boy skipped out of a hospital right under your agents' noses."
The left man huffed. "Didn't exactly hammer in the notion of competence on your part."
Hotch stiffened.
Garcia leaned into his shoulder from behind. "Don't believe it." she urged in a loud whisper. "He never said he was a cop 'til someone his own size came along. He's a bully. And he just doesn't…"
"Thank you, Garcia!" Hotch silenced her. "Reid is not going with them."
"We have orders…" the left man protested.
"But do you have a warrant?" the agent snapped.
"What are you? His lawyer?"
"Yes, I am." Hotch didn't hesitate to answer. "And as such, I am telling you right now, no warrant: no Reid." Then he offered a friendly smile. "If you like, you can wait for a warrant in the waiting room." he offered.
The right man chuckled, dropping his chin to his chest. "A.K.A. Interrogation room?"
Hotch's eyes narrowed. "I suppose that depends on how you look at it."
"Could throw in a few thumb screws to help along the mood." Garcia offered, but quickly ducked behind Hotch again when the left man growled
Tbc