Lost in a Memory
Chapter Five
By The Chronicler
Elle glanced around the computer room, a little surprised that she didn't find what she was looking for. Frowning, she set the lap top down on a stake of official looking folders topped with a magazine, then snatched a piece of paper. She glanced at the array of fur and feather and boingy topped writing utensils poking up out of a Spiro mug. Tentatively she bobbed them around with the tip of her finger until she found on that almost resembled a pen and snatched it up before it could mutate into something else.
"Not that one." Garcia warned as she stepped into her office.
Elle spun about, startled at the sudden intrusion. "Garcia… I was just looking…. Why not this one?" She held the pen up for closer inspection.
"007." the computer whiz answered. When the agent frowned at her, Garcia sighed a loud, exaggerated sound. Snatching the pen from her friend, she clicked the end twice. "Hadn't you seen that James Bond movie with Peirce Bronson where he had this pen and when you clicked it three times… " she paused to dramatically click it for a third time, before saying "it became a bomb. And if you didn't click it again real fast like…" Again she paused to click it one more time "It'd blow the hell out of the joint?"
Elle's eye brows raised. "You have got to be kidding me. That is a bomb?"
Garcia held the pen up, clicked it three times and said "Maybe…" Clicked it a fourth time. "Maybe not. But we won't find out in MY office." Sticking the suspicious pen behind her ear, she asked "So, what can the lady of the data stream do for you, oh so lowsome peasant of the physical realm?" Her nose wiggled, and her eyes darted about.
Elle tapped the laptop. "Reid's computer. It might have something on it, but it's password protected and we can't figure it out."
"Of course not." Garcia mumbled as she glanced around the room, sniffing loudly. "Reid's a genius with a photographic memory. He uses a nonsense password."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning the password changes every so many hours and is made of random letters, numbers, and symbols that he memorized the sequence of sometime ago. Only an awesome brain can pop that lid."
"So…. You can't do it?"
"Didn't say that." Garcia pointed out, rubbing her nose. Her eyes narrowed as she glared down at the small cage sitting at Elle's feet. "Is that a cat!" she asked, though it sounded more like an accusation.
"Well, I'm not the expert, but looks like one to me.." Elle answered. "He's Reid's. Thought he could use the company and I just couldn't leave him back at the loft with all the CSI guys running around. So the laptop…"
"That shouldn't be here." Garcia told her, her nose twitching. "Do you know what cat fur can do to a computer system? And that smell…. And those things claw everything!" She glared up at her, sniffing. "If my chair gets shredded, I'm gonna sue!" Her chin trembled. "Not to mention, some of us are…" Suddenly she sneezed with such explosive force that Elle practically leaped forward to catch her. Sniffing loudly, she glared up at her again. "… allergic."
"Oh…. Sorry." Elle quickly grabbed the cage and backed toward the door. "But the laptop…."
"Out! Let the great mystic do her…." another sneeze landed Garcia back in her chair. "OUT!"
Elle quickly slipped out into the hall, closing the door behind her. She winced when she heard a third sneeze quickly followed by a fourth. With a sigh, Elle glanced down at the cat cage. "She's not going to let me forget this." she complained to the feline.
Galen offered a consoling meow, but, otherwise, seemed undisturbed by the agent's possible future discomfort.
"Elle!" Morgan called out as he came down the hall with J.J. Between them was…
"Abby." Elle growled.
The prisoner tilted her head to one side, smiling a calm, sweet smile. Her eyes flickered to the cat cage. "And how is Galen? Have you fed him?"
"Shut up." Derek snapped. He nodded to two agents who had accompanied them as added security for the prisoner. "Interrogation Two." he ordered before stepping aside to let them walk on.
"I'm going to keep an eye on her." J.J. let them know as she continued on with the prisoner.
When they were down the hall and gone, Morgan turned his attention on Elle. Crossing his arms over his chest, he asked "So, having fun yet?"
"No." she answered without the slightest hint of amusement. She threw her head in the direction J.J. went. "She okay? She looks pretty pissed off."
Morgan smiled. "Yea, well, let's just say I found out why she doesn't go on raids and such."
"Why's that?"
"She's too damn mean!"
Elle started to laugh, but then stopped when she saw Morgan wasn't laughing. "Oh, you have got to tell me what happened."
88888
His world was a kaleidoscope of vague images. Odd shapes and colors, hints of details, twisting and turning, swirling in toward the center where they came together for the briefest of heart beats, forming a complete picture, a still shot of a memory.
Images, places, people, things…
He knew them, he recognized them.
It was just on the tip of his tongue…
But the kaleidoscope continued to turn, the images pulled apart, the bits and pieces and details lost to the debris of the whirlpool.
He tried to focus on one particular detail, try to concentrate on it, keep it in sight, don't let it get away….
A blade, squared tip, edge glistening as it tipped up, pressed into the soft flesh. A thin red line, a trickle of blood, sliding down, dripping into the whirlpool, twisting and swirling away…
Swirled and twisted…
Spinning…
going around…
and around….
and around……
and around……..
His world lurched, aching, sick, begging him to look away.
He tried to squeeze his eyes close, only to discover he wasn't using them.
He reached out, trying to capture images, stop the swirling. But, as his finger tips dipped into the swirling, trickling blood rolled down his fingers, spreading out into the water.
The red swirled into the whirlpool, seeping into the kaleidoscope images, until all there was was swirling blood red.
He felt panicked as the last of the only things in the world he recognized was drowned in the blood dyed waters. He grasped at the vanishing bits, but the odd shapes and colors, hints of details slipped away, sinking into the darkening pool of red.
When there was nothing left for the blood to drown out, it turned its attention to him, climbing up his arms. Higher and higher, over his shoulders, pulling him into its warm, sticky embrace, like a mother pulls her child to her breast….
And smothers him to death…
88888
Hotch glanced up from the his desk when he heard the whimper.
Reid was sitting sideways on the couch, his knees were pulled to his chest, his head leaning to the side against the cushions. His eyes were closed, but twitching, his fingers seemingly to scratch absently at the cuts on his arms, leaving red, angry looking marks, some of which were bleeding slightly.
Hotch considered going over, waking him up, but thought better of it. He had no doubt what made his agent whimper had something to do with memories.
Lost memories.
Memories that would only be found if he let Reid face them, however bad, however frightening. Spencer Reid had to face them, had to remember them if Hotch and the rest of the team had any hope of helping him.
But, as the young man twisted, a soft cry escaping before he turned his face into the couch cushions, Hotch rose to his feet, ready to run to the rescue, whatever the consequences.
A tap at the window just above the couch stopped him. He looked up to see Gideon just on the other side, offering a calm, reassuring smile.
Taking a deep breath, Hotch steadied himself. Quietly, he crossed his office and slipped out the door, carefully closing the door behind him and, after a hesitation, locking it.
"Aaron." Gideon greeted, though his smile faltered slightly when he saw the locked door.
Hotch shrugged slightly. "He seems to have picked up a tendency to wander off." he explained.
"How did he get here?" Gideon wondered a mixture of amusement and surprise twinkling in his expression.
"Apparently, he walked." He couldn't quite hide the amazement from his voice. It would have been a long, cold walk for some one in a winter coat, boots, and good health. For Reid… "His slippers were shredded. His feet aren't in too much better shape." He paused to look through the window at Reid.
"He's dreaming." Gideon observed.
Hotch nodded. "He's been sleeping mostly. Garcia tried to get him to eat something, but that lasted about ten minutes before he was sick.." He rubbed the bridge of his nose with a long, tired sigh.
Gideon looked at him. "You should try to get some sleep. Get some rest while you can." he suggested.
The agent shook his head. "More frustrated than tired." he admitted. "Jason, what the hell is going on?"
"Seems to be the popular question." Sheriff Jackson took the steps two at a time until he was on the same level as the agents. With a shrug, he tugged on the visitor's badge clipped to the star on his chest. "Didn't know it took so much to get through your doors." He looked through the window. "Ah, there's our boy." Then started for the door.
But Hotch stepped in his way.
Jackson stopped. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the agent in front of him. "I thought we had a deal!" he growled, more warning than question.
"I thought we did too." Hotch answered just as dangerously.
Gideon tilted his head to one side, curious as to Hotch's stance. He wondered just what had happened? Better yet, what was about to happen?
The Sheriff tilted his head to one side. "Wanna tell me what you mean by that? Think I broke the deal?"
Hotch crossed his arms over his chest. "Two sheriffs deputies, claiming to be under your order, entered this department and tried to forcibly remove Agent Reid from here."
"Indeed?" Gideon's eye brows rose, tilting his head until he was looking at Jackson.
Sheriff Jackson shrugged. "They were ordered to keep an eye out for the boy."
"Doctor." Gideon corrected. "Dr. Reid."
Jackson pointed a finger at Hotch. "Deal was that you would keep him in custody. Yet, somehow, he made it from the hospital to here… without a single FBI tag along." He shrugged. "So, my deputies saw a possible murder suspect supposedly in custody wandering around. They did their job. They attempted to pick him up." he concluded.
Hotch was not satisfied. "Was it also their job to threaten and abuse one of our civilian staff… without identifying themselves?"
Gideon stiffened. "Who?" he wanted to know.
"Garcia." Hotch answered, glancing at him. Seeing his concern, he quickly added "She's alright. Feeling less secure, but alright."
Both agents turned their attention back to the Sheriff, waiting for an explanation.
Apparently, Jackson didn't have one. Spreading his hands, he said "There's no excuse for that behavior. If it's true, they will be disciplined." But then he set his hands on his hips. "But that doesn't change the fact that that doctor' is still a witness, a possible suspect, and I need to question him."
Hotch shook his head. "Not until he is released from doctor's care."
Jackson huffed. "I don't see a doctor." he pointed out.
"As you pointed out, he slipped out of doctor's care." Gideon brought up, backing his man with a crooked smile. "As you might know, slipped out and released are not the same."
Jackson dropped his chin to his chest, shaking his head. Chuckling, he looked back up at the two men. "So? The boy's not the only one thinks he's too smart for normal society, huh? Seems to be the tone of your brainiac club here." Not bothering to wait for an answer, he spun about. "I understand that you have brought in the attacker from the hospital? May I, at least, sit in on the interrogation?"
Hotch nodded once, though the man wasn't looking at him. "Roberts." he called to an agent who was standing nearby, keeping a protective eye on the office that held their youngest agent.
The man snapped to. "Sir?"
"Show Sheriff Jackson to the observation room of Interrogation." Hotch ordered.
Roberts nodded. "Yes, sir." He hurried to get ahead of the Sheriff, looking back at him to say "This way, sir."
Jackson waved a sarcastic hand, following the man.
When out of ear shot, Hotch turned a frown at Gideon. "How many people use the term brainiac'?" he wondered.
Gideon also frowned. "Not many. Why?"
Hotch shook his head. "I'm not sure yet." He glanced back at his office. "I need to go talk to Garcia."
Gideon held out his hand. "Go. I'll sit with Reid." he offered.
Hotch dropped his office keys in Gideon's hand. "I'll stop back before going to interrogation." he promised before hurrying off.
He was half way to Garcia's office when he saw Derek and Elle.
"Hey, Hotch, man, did you miss something." Derek greeted him.
"I heard." Hotch answered. "Is J.J. alright?"
Derek nodded. "A couple of bruises. But she'll live." Then it was his turn. "How's the kid? Did he really walk all the way? It's freakin' cold out there!"
But Hotch was otherwise distracted. "Elle, Reid's laptop…"
"Delivered to Garcia safe and sound." Garcia assured. "Though I'm not quite sure she said she could or couldn't break the password. She seemed to have cat issues." She indicated the cage Derek now carried.
"Think she has cat issues?" Derek chuckled. "You should see what happened when she met my little, sweet pooch."
"That thing!" Elle turned on him. "Is neither little nor sweet…. Okay, maybe overly sweet. Like having a horse confusing itself with one of those little wiener dogs."
"Drop the cat off at my office." Hotch interrupted. "Then the two of you get down to interrogation. Take the two deputies. Something is off about the way they handle themselves."
"What about Sheriff Jackson?" Elle wondered. "He's not going to like…"
"Good." Hotch finished. "We want him on edge. In fact, I want him right out uncomfortable."
Derek and Elle glanced at each other, but, alas, they trusted Hotch, knew that he knew what he was doing. So they started on their way.
But, as if remembering something, Hotch called Morgan back. "Derek, did you get anything from the woman?"
"Not a word. Not even serial number."
Hotch frowned. "Serial number? You think she's military?"
Morgan shook his head. "Military, no. Someone a lot quieter and meaner, though. Someone who can get their hands on and know how to use Kerasine."
"Kerasine?" Hotch paused. "Where did you hear about Kerasine?" he wanted to know.
Morgan stopped, puzzled at the expression on his friend's face. Now that's a look he hadn't seen before. "Kerasine." he repeated, slowly, carefully watching Hotch's reaction, trying to read him. "It was one of the drugs in Reid's system. It's a…."
"Government tested drug that makes the subject highly susceptible to hypnotic suggestion and/or brainwashing. Yes, I know." Hotch shook his head. "That's a very much Top Secret subject. Only a few, very select people of a very select organization would have known about it, much less have access to it and know how to use it." He frowned.
When Hotch didn't continue, Morgan had to ask "Anyone we know?"
Hotch looked at him for a long, silent moment, before finally answering with one, simple word. "Gideon."
tbc