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Lost in a Memory
Chapter Nine
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No.
No!
No, no, no, nononononononono….
Gideon squeezed his eyes closed, silently commanding his heart to slow down. He couldn't lose it now. He couldn't let guilt and worry cloud things up. He had to think. He had to figure this out.
He had had a feeling about the sheriff. Why didn't he act on it? He knew he wasn't who he said he was. But he allowed himself to be distracted.
"Gideon!"
His eyes opened, though he didn't look up. Even when his eyes were closed, he couldn't turn away from the blood on the floor of the garage.
Who was it?
Young, innocent Spencer Reid with so much potential, mind so amazing, heart so open and trusting, so much life ahead of him…
Or always strong Aaron Hotchner with a brand new baby boy and loving wife, a long and, no doubt, heroic future in the FBI, intelligent, insightful…
"Gideon, what happened?" Derek demanded, coming to stand over the man. Elle was a step behind him.
Gideon turned to look at him. "Stupidity." he answered.
Derek frowned. "What?"
"This shouldn't have happened." Gideon went on, turning back to the blood. "He felt safe with us. With me. I told him we would protect him. That he could trust us." Again his eyes closed. "And I let him walk right out the door with him."
Derek's eyes narrowed. "Sheriff Jackson took him." he concluded. With a growl, he spun away, kicking at the ground. "Son of a bitch." he snapped.
"Derek." Elle whispered, laying a hand on his arm. When he glanced down at her, she nodded to the blood Gideon was crouched over. "Who was hurt?"
Gideon glanced sharply up at her. Then his eyes shifted to look pass her. Rising up, he stepped pass Elle as J.J. crossed the garage toward them. "Who was it?" he asked softly.
J.J. licked her lips. Glancing around the garage, she once again took in the sights.
Dead man. Blood pools. A fallen gun.
How could this happen here? To them? Agents of the FBI!
Sure, in the field something like this was always possible. They were prepared for that.
But here? In the garage of the FBI offices? Their offices? Their home? Their safe place?
If an FBI Agent wasn't safe in their own office, how could anyone be safe anywhere?
"J.J.?" Derek encouraged, leaning just close enough that his shoulder brushed against her's, offering what little emotional strength he had to offer.
Her eyes snapped up to meet his strong, reassuring eyes. Again she licked her lips, before turning her attention back to Gideon. "Yea… yes, sir. There was some sort of delay on the security signal. That's why help didn't get down here sooner. Garcia thinks it could be some sort of electronic scrambler. She's working on it now." She took a deep breath, forcing herself not to look at the blood… again. "It was Agent Hotchner, sir. Sheriff Jackson shot Hotch."
Gideon's eyes closed again.
No, no, no, no, no, no…..
Shaking his head angrily, he ordered "Morgan, interrogate the deputies." He walked back towards the entrance, calling over his shoulder as what was left of his team fell in step behind him. "Elle, help Garcia. J.J. with me."
"Where are we going?" J.J. wanted to know.
"I'm going to get some straight answers for once."
Hotch stumbled forward, loosing his balance. He tried to twist, tried to protect his already bruised and damaged body. But he slammed into the metal table with bone jarring force. The world faded, blackness being a blessed relief from the agony that rippled through his body.
"Stop it!" Reid cried, rushing forward, putting himself between Hotch and their kidnapper. "You don't need to hurt him!"
Like the single star in the dark night, Reid's voice cut through the blackness, reaching Hotchner. Grinding his teeth, he forced his eyes open again. "Reid…" he gasped.
But his young agent's back was to him as he faced off with Jackson.
Jackson stepped into the room, chuckling. "What are you going to do?" he wanted to know, spreading his arms wide, as if welcoming Reid to take a swing. "Stop me?"
Reid tilted his head to one side. "Stop you?" His eye brows raised. "Thought you were at least smart enough not to kill the only reason I'm going to do anything for you." He shrugged. "Are you really so stupid that…"
Jackson's fist snapped out, striking Reid in the jaw and slamming him back against Hotch.
Hotchner bit back a cry as he was, once again, slammed into the table. Blindly, he snatched at the edge to keep from falling.
Dazed and hurt himself, Reid's hands cradled his jaw. He took a stumbling step away from his teammate and started to turn as if to check on the damage.
But Jackson grabbed his shirt front and jerked him around to face him again. "He ain't dead yet, boy." he hissed. "That can change in a heartbeat." He threw him back, taking care to aim him at Hotch again.
Reid threw his hand back, catching himself before he hit the wounded Agent.
The Sheriff jabbed a finger at him. "All depends on just how good of a nature you keep me in." he warned. Then he spun about and stomped out of the room, slamming the heavy metal door behind him. An ominous thunk sounded a bolt being slid into place.
For a moment the two agents leaned against the table, breathing hard, trying to out last the pain.
Finally, rubbing his jaw one more time, Reid pushed away from the table and took Hotch's good arm. "Agent Hotchner, are you alright?" he asked.
Hotch looked at him. He breathed in deep and let it out slowly, trying to decide if the kid was stable enough to handle the truth.
But, before he could come to a decision, Reid spun away from him. "Of course not!" He waved his hands in the air as he began to walk the room. "You've been shot! He shot you! Shot you because of me! Son of a…"
"Reid!" Hotch snapped.
Reid's head snapped about, looking over his shoulder, his wide eyes locking on the older man.
Not taking any time to think this time, Aaron Hotchner told him "I'm alright."
Reid blinked at him, but, otherwise, didn't move.
Hotch's eyes narrowed.
He had been tempted many times to profile Reid, but always turned away just short. It was his rule: don't profile your team; don't profile your friends; don't profile your family.
Now that he stood here, wounded, bleeding, his life depending on what they did next, he wondered about that rule. He almost felt unarmed, naked even, without a profile of his own agent in his hands.
Not that it would have done him any good. The kid was so twisted around, still coming down from the drugs, scared, confused, picking fights with the unsub…
Hotchner paused. "Why did you pick a fight?" he wondered aloud.
Again Reid blinked at him.
Holding his breath, Hotch adjusted his wounded shoulder until he was cradling his arm against his chest. Streaks of pain ran down his arm, across his chest and back, forcing him to gasp. It took every ounce of strength he had not to double over.
Focus! His mind snapped at his body.
Think.
Stay in control.
Have to stay focus!
"Reid, you don't pick fights. You don't do that." he started, forcing his words out through a clenched jaw. "You know the unsub. You've profiled him. You know his triggers." He paused to catch his breath. "Why are you picky a fight with him?"
The agent blinked at him yet again. Slowly he turned and began to aimlessly wander the room. His hand reached out, fingers just barely brushing this and that.
It was a cold room, most everything a cold, stainless steel. The walls and high ceiling were a smooth, hospital white. The floor a clean, polished vinyl. A steel desk in the corner with a water pitcher and glass. On the wall next to that was a one way mirror, looking in. The door was in the corner on the other side of the mirror. On the opposite side was a porcelain sink sitting on a metal cabinet, and a Bio-waste can hanging from the wall. Beside the can was a wire basket that held a box of latex gloves. On the other side of the sink was a tall, metal cabinet. In the middle of the room was a stainless steel table, shaped like a cross.
Frowning, Hotch watched him. He could see his mind work, putting pieces together. Like when he looked at the Crime Board, making connections, puzzling together the dark secrets of an unsub's mind, creating a scene, a profile.
"Reid?" Hotch called to him, wanting to know… needing to know what he saw.
Reid's head snapped about. "You're bleeding." he said in that off handed tone he used when he knew something no one else even thought about knowing. Suddenly he was moving across the room, pass Hotch, and to the cabinet beside the sink. Opening the door, he went straight to the shelf he wanted as if he had done it before, and retrieved a package of gauze. Then he returned to the older agent. "Take your shirt off."
With his good hand, Hotchner reached up and worked the buttons of his shirt. "You've been here before." he said.
Reid didn't answer as he helped ease the shirt down Hotch's shoulders.
Hotch hissed when the material was peeled away from the bullet hole. He had to bite back a cry when his agent pressed a bandage to the wound.
"Sorry." Reid mumbled.
Blinking away tears, Hotch took a moment to regain his composure. Licking his lips, he said again "You've been here before." When he didn't get a response, he reached out with his good hand and touched Reid's wrist.
"No! Don't do that!" Reid snapped, leaping back. Spinning away, he crossed his wrists over his chest and shook his head.
"Reid!" Hotch called after him. He tried to take a step after him, but his shoulder screamed at being moved any more than it had been. Falling back against the table, he ground out through clenched teeth "Damn it."
The young agent was spinning about, his eyes scanning the room again. "No, no, no…" he whispered in a panic. "We need to leave. We need to get out of here.
Taking a deep breath, Hotch tried again. "Reid?" he called softly.
No response.
Hotchner licked his lips. "Spencer."
Reid stopped spinning, but he didn't look at him.
"Spencer," Hotch started again, "you've been here before."
"Yes!" he yelled at him.
An answer.
Hotch finally got an answer. A one syllable answer, but an answer none the less. The door had opened.
"What happened?" the lead agent asked, pushing for another answer. Keep the kid talking, keep him focused, keep him moving and thinking and working towards the next answer. "What did you see here?"
Reid's tilted his head slightly, listening to Hotch's voice. "They… they hurt her. Killed her… But he wouldn't give it to them."
Hotchner closed his eyes. "Sarah Dommas." he guessed.
He was almost relieved. Reid said they.' They' killed her. Not him. He didn't do it.
But he had seen it. He had been here. Gentle, analytical Spencer Reid had been forced to watch a woman being murdered. That alone would have screwed anyone up.
But how did Reid get from here to thrown out of a car, drugged and abused.
"He wouldn't help them." Reid continued, suddenly very calm. "They killed her. He begged them to stop. He cried. But he wouldn't help them." He finally turned his head to look at Hotch. "They thought I would."
"What do they want?"
His chin trembled, but he quickly clenched his jaw and looked away.
Hotch shook his head. "The Alpha/Omega File." he breathed. "Dommas was protecting the file. Something he thought was worth his life… worth his wife's life. But why send it to you? Why get you involved?"
A clank sounded the bolt being released on the door.
"Reid, come here!" Hotch ordered, though the younger agent was already backing up to his side.
Sheriff Jackson swung the door open and stepped in. "Agent Hotchner, Dr. Reid." he greeted with a smile, almost as if he was meeting them in a coffee shop for pie. But then he stepped aside. "I believe you both know Dr. Wesslim."
The woman walked into the room carrying a small case.
Reid's eyes went big and he wrapped his arms around himself tightly.
"Agent Hotchner." the doctor greeted him. "If you will please sit on the table, we'll get started."
Abby leaped to her feet, thrusting her seat back. "You let that bastard take him? What kind of fool are you?" she roared. "You're supposed to the brainacs of the FBI! You're supposed to be better than this. For crying out loud, he's one of your own!"
"Abby." Gideon said, his tone calm and steady. "Sit down." He raised his hand, stilling the agents who were closing in on the upset prisoner.
Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Abby calmed herself. "You should have let me take him." she grumbled. Turning she quickly located her seat. Using the toe of her boot, she dragged it back and sank down. "You're chasing the wrong horse, Jason." She smirked. "The Senator always said you were a smart man. Just off track."
Gideon glanced up as J.J. slipped in the door. There was a look on her face that he recognized at once. She needed to talk to him and now.
But Abby was talking and he didn't know how long that would last. So Gideon returned his attention to the prisoner. "Give me something better." he encouraged. "Tell me what is going on."
"Something better?" Abby huffed. She too glanced up at the intruder, but decided to ignore her. "You want me to tell you a funny story while Jackson drives off into the sunset with a genuine code breaker?" She straightened up, letting her cuffed hands hang in front of her. "Once upon a time there was a great man who fought for great things. He worked with others on a committee. This committee kept a file, encoded so no peeping eyes could use and abuse their secrets. But he was opposed by men who confused knowledge with wisdom. In their confusion, they dissolved the committee, and thrust this great man from their ranks. Knowing the dangers of this file in the wrong hands, this great man, in all his wisdom, took the file with him and kept it safe for many, many years."
"Someone found out about the file." Gideon concluded.
Abby nodded slightly. "And you just handed that someone a code breaker." she accused. She smacked the table. "It was my job to make sure Jackson didn't get his hands on that kid."
"By any means necessary." Gideon added.
Abby took a moment to answer, her eyes narrowing. "Yes."
"You drugged him."
Again her answer was short and simple. "Yes."
He understood. Really he did! Yet Gideon just couldn't help but be pissed off.
She did it! She drugged Reid! She screwed up his head! She!
He closed his eyes, needing a minute to regain control.
J.J. wasn't so understanding. "You drugged him?! That's how you protect him? Give him amnesia and dump him, lost and alone, in the woods?!"
"My job was to protect the file!" Abby snapped. "Not the kid." She turned her head to glare at the blond. "You should be grateful."
"Grateful?"
"Grateful." Gideon interrupted. He opened his eyes again, looking straight at Abby. "She could have killed him, absolutely and undeniably assuring that he could not be used to read the file. Instead she tried to erase his memory of the file."
Abby shrugged. "Which didn't work." she admitted. She frowned, genuinely confused. "Another unexpected event. It might have been the tranquilizers already in his system… but it shouldn't have…"
"He has autism." Gideon told her. "Katrine wouldn't have worked the same on him."
"Autism?" She tilted her head to one side. "That wasn't in his file."
"Not everything can be learned from a file." Gideon reminded her.
"Point." Abby allowed. Sighing and shaking her head, she said "So, you screwed up. Let me go and I'll fix it." She held her hands out.
"Fix it how?" J.J. wanted to know. "By finishing Reid off?"
The prisoner huffed. Tilting her head, looking up at her from the corner of her eye. "You want me to answer that?"
Gideon spoke, bringing their attention back to him. "Were you on Jackson's team? Or he on yours?"
Abby smiled. "Thought we agreed I wasn't a team player?" She chuckled. But then she shrugged. "Jackson is a traitor. A traitor to the Senator. A traitor to our country. As soon as the Senator began to suspect, he put me on him. But it was too late." She paused to lick her lips. "He had already stolen the file and was feeding it to a code breaker. Senator Dommas challenged him directly." She closed her eyes. "He should have waited for me." Abby shook her head. "Guess Jackson decided to skip the hassle of the code breaker and go straight for the source. I got there too late."
"He took Dommas." Gideon concluded. "Used his wife to make him talk."
Abby's voice growled in defense. "He would never betray his country. Not even to save his life. Not even to save Mrs. Dommas."
The profiler nodded. "So he needed the code breaker again. He needed Reid."
Abby nodded.
"Where did he take him?" Gideon wanted to know.
The woman smiled. She held her hands out again.
Gideon smiled back, but made no move to release the cuffs.
Abby sighed, dropping her hands again. Leaning forward, she asked "Hawkins, right? Means his pit bull, Franklin, too." She shrugged. "Let Franklin go."
J.J. crossed her arms over her chest. "Anyone else?" she wondered sarcastically.
Abby looked up at her again. "Your file didn't say anything about that temper of yours."
The agent shrugged. "Not everything can be learned from a file."
Abby laughed. She turned back to Gideon. "She is one surprise after another."
Gideon smacked his hand down on the table, making both women jump. "Two agents are missing. I want them back." he snapped.
All humor left the prisoner's expression. Licking her lips, she spoke carefully, her tone low and serious. "Franklin needs a leader. He's helpless without one. You keep Hawkins locked up and toss Franklin out on the street with the appropriate amount of scare, and he'll run straight for the next leader-like person he knows."
"Jackson." Gideon sighed, dropping his eyes. After a moment, he rose to his feet. "Let her go."
J.J. stared at him. "What?" she asked in disbelief.
Gideon looked at her. "Do it."