Title: Standing Still (2/4)
Rating: R for this chapter, but Part Four will definitely be NC-17
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Characters/Pairing: Rossi/Prentiss
Genre: Drama
Summary: Whilst conducting a custodial interview, Rossi and Prentiss find the nature of their relationship shifting. Things don't go as planned on both fronts.
Author's Note: Big thanks to Windy City Dreamer, who betaed this, despite the fact that she doesn't really like the pairing, and would much prefer that I be writing Morgan/Prentiss.
Warning: Some dark imagery, and be pre-empted of the fact that Part Four will be NC-17 rated. But you don't have to worry about that just yet.
Standing Still
Do not fear going forward slowly; fear only to stand still.
Chinese Proverb
Part Two
It still mostly dark when Emily wakes, the slightest hint of sunlight peeking through the curtains. She fumbles for her watch, the low light levels enough to tell her that it's a little past six a.m. They're due at the prison by 9, so she has a bit of time to prepare herself for the day's events.
The first thing she does is make coffee, careful not to spill boiling coffee all over herself. She hasn't showered yet, but first degree burns would be starting off the day on a poor note. There's a soft knock on the door that separates the rooms.
'Come in,' she calls out. The door had been left unlocked for security reasons. The last thing they need is for one of them to end up dead because of a locked door.
He's dressed already, which only serves to make her wonder what time he got up. All the foodstuffs had been left in her room though, so they're both going to have to face the music.
It's difficult for her, because she has to admit, it's not as though she didn't enjoy the kiss. Rossi's a good person – he cares – and she's almost positive she doesn't deserve him. It's part of the reason why she's so confused. Because things like this don't happen to people like her. After having screwed her life up so much, she'd thought she was destined to become an old spinster. Some kind of karmic retribution for her past misdeeds.
She's still sipping at her coffee when Rossi pours out two bowls of cereal. She usually has toast for breakfast, but the hotel room doesn't have a toaster, and the plan is to go straight to the prison. For about thirty seconds, there's nothing but the sound of teeth crunching cereal, and she takes a moment to process how strange it looks watching a fully dressed Rossi eating Honey Bunches of Oats from a bright red plastic bowl. Usually, any breakfast involving the team includes a bag full of pastries from the nearest bakery.
She keeps her eyes down, fervently hoping that he's not going to make mention of the bright pink Hello Kitty pajamas she's wearing. Garcia had given them to her as a gag gift on her previous birthday and, as luck would have it, they're the only ones she could find when last repacking her bag in a mad rush. They're actually surprisingly comfortable, so she doesn't mind so much. It's just the stigma of having Rossi see her in them that she's worried about. But then, he's not going to judge. He might make a comment, but he won't think any less of her for it. It's the kind of situation that makes her wish she'd taken her sweats to the laundromat along with her work clothes.
He's not even paying attention to her pajamas though, a fact for which she's grateful. He's finished his cereal, and is now making good use of the coffee machine. Why he couldn't just use the machine in his own room, she's not quite sure. The idea that he's finding an excuse to spend time with her briefly crosses her mind, followed almost immediately by a wave of embarrassment at the thought. In any case, he's always been a little more of a morning person than her; for him, coffee isn't such a survival mechanism. It's cold outside, though, so if nothing else, they'll need warming up.
She finishes her own coffee without major incident, and then grabs her clothes from the go bag that's lying open against the wall. Her toiletries are still in the bathroom from when she'd brushed her teeth, the taste of Rossi replaced with Cool Mint Crest.
She shuts herself in the bathroom, slipping her shirt and pants onto a hanger, and then hooking the hanger onto the door. The steam from the shower will be as close as she's going to get to an iron, something that's important today of all days. Freshly pressed clothes aren't going to change the fact that she fits the victimology to a T, but it might remind Albright that if it came down to it, she could probably hold her own in a confrontation. And in the end, that's what they're banking on; the fact that he might be distracted enough by her presence to reveal the information they're looking for.
Hello Kitty is introduced to the bathroom tiles, followed by a pair of black panties. They're not nearly as embarrassing, only she isn't about to go and flaunt them in from of Rossi. Not yet, anyhow. That sends another wave of embarrassment down her spine, so she tries to put the whole thing out of her mind. It isn't as easy as it look, even with her compartmentalization running at full cylinders. There's a reason why fraternization is frowned upon. No, she corrects herself. Rossi's the reason fraternization is frowned upon. She's heard the rumors, and doesn't care to guess which ones are actually true.
She fiddles with the mixer tap; she's been to so many different hotels in the past two years, some with more user-friendly valves than others. This is one of the good ones, and she has the water flowing from the shower head almost immediately, grateful for the sensation of it on her bare skin. With a loofah, she scrubs away the sweat and dirt of the last twenty-four hours, hyperaware of the fact that she can almost feel Rossi's arm wrapped around her waist, as if he were still holding her.
God damnit.
Her head tips back, as though letting the water wash over her face might somehow get Rossi out of her mind. The problem is, she's still thinking of him as Rossi while simultaneously wanting to jump his bones, which tells her that the boundary between personal and professional is starting to blur. She wonders if that came out of nowhere, but then remembers the friendly moments she's shared with him in the past, and realizes that it's not quite out of nowhere. It's just that she had been too blind to notice it.
She finishes up quickly, drying off with the criminally undersized hotel-issue towel. She hadn't washed her hair, so it's not long before she's out of the bathroom, dressed in dark slacks, white blouse and a dark jacket. Rossi is sitting at the table, going over the case file one last time. His coffee isn't quite finished yet. He doesn't look up as she sits on the edge of the bed, pulling on her low-heeled boots.
'You ready?' he asks, flipping the case file shut. She nods and gives a slightly bitter smile, because it's almost as though nothing even happened between them.
***
She doesn't say much on the drive out, but he gathers that's probably due to the fact that she's mentally preparing herself for the day ahead. Thoughts in all the right s, face a blank slate. He doesn't blame her; it's not the easiest thing in the world to pretend you don't care when you really, really do.
There's a multitude of security procedures that they need to go through before they can even get inside the prison, but, being federal agents, they're allowed to forgo some of them. They hand over their weapons at the appropriate checkpoint, and he feels a little bit naked without the M1911 pistol at his belt, even if it feels a little lighter without it. Emily's face is expressionless as she hands over her Glock 17. She doesn't use her weapon as a crutch as much as some agents do. It's a tool, and if she needs it, she'll use it, even if she doesn't want to. The guard gives them a small nod as he locks away their weapons, and it might mean a lot of things: "Good luck" or "be careful in there" or even just "have a nice day." All are possibilities, especially when he considers the fact that the inmates of this prison aren't exactly the safest people around, and in spite of the fairly tight security, he and Emily are heavily escorted.
He tries to block out the jeers from the cells as they walk down the hallway. Tries to block out the fact that a lot of these men haven't been with a woman in a long time, and some of them will never be with a woman again. They'd expected this kind of reception though, so remaining stoic is not as hard as it should be. But it's still pretty fucking hard.
Emily's taking it all in stride, though he's sure that she'll be thinking about it later, when she's let down those barriers. The barriers that are so adept at keeping things out are just as practiced at keeping things in, under the right circumstances, so he's not entirely sure how she's feeling right now. The profiler in him says that she's nervous but determined, though really, that has nothing to do with profiling. That's just Prentiss.
They're led into a small windowless room that feels as much like a cell as the rest of the prison does. There are two men already there, both in suits – one blue, one grey. They are, he discovers – as the blue suited one makes introductions – Correctional Officer Michael Rosenberg, and Detective Clifford Hewitt. Rossi recognizes both name and face of the Detective – he had been the lead investigator in the disappearance of the four Ohio girls, before the case had gone federal. Before the BAU had been called in.
They shake Rossi's hand with something that's akin to respect (he's well known in the law enforcement community after all) and Emily's with hesitation. It's probably not any one thing, but rather a combination of things; that she's a woman, that she fits the victimology, that she's not David Rossi, that she isn't a white male over the age of fifty with a love of fine Scotch. He's seen her drink, though, and while she's usually fairly worse off in the morning, she's by no means a lightweight. That said, she's usually drinking beer or wine, rather than two fingers of Lagavulin, no ice.
He doesn't think of it for very much longer, because Hewitt is asking his permission to sit in on the interview – permission that's swiftly denied. The detective bristles slightly, and Rossi has a moment of sympathy, because he knows more than he'd like to about unsolved cases – still has nightmares about them sometimes – and he knows that Hewitt is still feeling the burden of those half a dozen women whose fate had never been determined.
'It would be more beneficial if you observed,' says Rossi, holding the man's gaze. 'If we're both in the interrogation room, then Albright will be less inclined to reveal pertinent information.' He doesn't mention the fact that Hewitt has something of a personal interest in the case, and is likely to become overemotional. Such an outburst would be considered a win by Albright.
'What about her?' Hewitt asks, clearly irritated, and Rossi feels his sympathy shifting into annoyance. He waits a few seconds - partially to cool down – but by the time he's formulated an answer, Emily has already spoken.
'He doesn't see me as a threat,' she says bluntly, evidently not impressed by Hewitt's attitude. 'He sees me as a conquest.' It's not the word Rossi would have chosen. He probably would have said "victim," but he understands why Emily wouldn't want to see it that way. It's not as though the interview isn't going to be hard enough.
Hewitt doesn't seem happy with the answer, but he doesn't argue, which is good, because he really doesn't want to be thinking about a tiff-up with a local cop right now. He wants to go in there and get this interview over with.
So they do.
***
They're already seated when the guards bring in Albright. Rossi has taken the position closest to the chair Albright is about to be cuffed into, and Emily finds herself sitting a little further away. It's both a safety thing, and a pragmatism thing – Rossi needs to establish his dominance. Privately, she doesn't really think he needs any help on that front. Part of her wonders if this is going to end up a pissing contest between him and Albright.
She tenses slightly as the door opens; there are three of them – two guards on either side of the prisoner – but Albright is the only one she really sees. She's met serial killers up close before – usually right as they're being cuffed. Her interview experiences are more limited than she'd like – only a few with actual serial killers, and even then, it's rarely her who's taken the lead. Technically speaking, Rossi's taking the lead today anyway, because there's no chance in hell that Robert Albright is going to consider her worthy of even being there, let alone conducting the interview.
He's thin – much thinner than the photos in the file show – but still retains some vestiges of handsomeness. It makes him look kind of creepy, she thinks – an appearance to match the demons she knows are lurking beneath his exterior. Dark eyes meet hers briefly, and she's almost tempted to turn away – something about looking into an abyss – but she doesn't, and in less than a second, the gaze has passed on.
There's a few minutes of silence as the guards transfer him to the chair, a series of cuffs and chains ensuring that unless he's got some kind of Kryptonian blood, breaking free is going to be very, very difficult. One of the guards nods at Rossi, indicating the button on the wall, and adding that someone will be outside the door for the duration of the interview. On top of that, Detective Hewitt and Corrections Officer Rosenberg are watching the live video footage of the interview. If anything should happen to go wrong, then they'll have back-up within seconds. Though, looking at those dead eyes, she privately wonders if seconds will be enough.
Rossi has the truncated file in front of him, but that's not what he's looking at. He's looking straight ahead, at Albright, and if he's worrying about the abyss staring into him, then it doesn't show. Of course, it rarely does.
'My name is Supervisory Special Agent Rossi,' he introduces himself, trying to encourage a professional atmosphere, because if he tries to get friendly, then there's no way that Albright is ever going to respect him. The fact that Supervisory Special Agent Rossi managed to make upwards of a million dollars on that profession only gives him credibility. Of course, she's not so sure that Deviance: The Secret Desires of Sadistic Serial Killers is on the approved reading list for death row inmates. Although, and it's been a few years since she's read Deviance, she seems to recall Albright being one of the killers used as an example in the book. If Rossi's actually interviewed this guy before though, he's never mentioned it, and she doesn't think he'd forget such a pertinent detail.
'It's my understanding that you've agreed to reveal certain details with regards to your crimes,' starts Rossi, and Albright gives the tiniest indication of annoyance when he realizes that Rossi isn't going to introduce the other agent in the room. That's not going to stop whatever fantasies he's going to have, but at least he won't be able to put a name to the face. It's small comfort.
'Can you describe to me your most practiced methods of torture,' he asks, and it's an open-ended question, because it means that Albright might be more inclined to mention something that's not mentioned in the autopsy reports – something that might be pertinent to the six missing women – bodies, really, they must be by now – that they need to find.
Albright spends the first two hours of the session describing his torture methods in detail, and Emily finds herself taking notes for later reference. Every so often he glances towards her, as if silently asking if she's enjoying the story. He goes into less detail regarding the sexual aspects of his crime, which is par for the course of this type of offender.
'Of course,' he says finally, 'That's not including the first six.' He's got a knowing smile on his face, as if he had known that that is what they were here for all along. It's unsurprising, really; he might be a narcissist, but he's also very intelligent, and part of her wonders what has been going through his mind has been for the duration of the interview. But then, she remembers that she really, really doesn't want to know.
'The first six?' Rossi asks, as though he's feigning ignorance, but Albright is too smart for that. He looks at Emily directly, giving her a lecherous smile, and she feels her stomach roil.
'You would have made a fine victim,' he says softly, and she almost has to bite her tongue to keep herself from making a sarcastic retort. Compartmentalization is all well and good at keep fear out, but sometimes anger can be a much stronger emotion. He closes his eyes, and she still doesn't want to know what he's thinking, but, much to her consternation, he tells her – because even though Rossi's listening in, it's not him that Albright's talking to. 'I'd have whipped you until you body was nothing more than a mess of flesh, blood and bone, and then I would have raped you to death, and dumped your corpse in amongst the earth and rocks, in a place so dark that not even air dares venture there.'
She raises her eyebrow at the phrasing, rather than the content itself. It's not the worst thing that she's ever heard, after all. There's definitely something in there that they can use.
Rossi seems to think so too, because he gives her a silent gesture that they should wrap things up, and less than two minutes later, they're walking out the door, leaving a smug looking Albright in the care of the two guards.
***
In the observation room, they find a consternated looking Correctional Officer, and a determined looking Detective. Hewitt, at least, finally seems to understand the reasoning behind the decisions made. Emily seems unaffected by the experience, which, for some reason, makes Rossi swell with pride. She's been through a fair bit in her time; as far as he knows, she's never been tortured, but she's taken a couple of beatings, and he knows for a fact that her childhood was no cakewalk. Albright's words are nothing compared to that. She even gives a slight smirk when Rosenberg demands to know the significance of Albright's last words to them.
'He was telling them where the bodies are,' says Hewitt matter-of-factly. His vision is a little bit narrow, Rossi thinks. He can't see the forest for the trees. He's so focused on wanting to get Albright to talk, that he hasn't considered the fact that they're talking to a man with whom deceit is a major personality trait.
'He's telling us what we want to hear,' corrects Rossi. 'We can't trust anything he says.' That's true for the majority of the offenders they've profiled in the past. They've learned to read between the lines, and the between the lines tells Rossi that Robert Albright isn't telling them everything.
'We still need to check it out,' argues Hewitt. He's had the burden of these women on his shoulders for so long, Rossi remembers. He also remembers the lengths Prentiss, Morgan and JJ went to help him solve his own cold case, and he knows that he can't just let this go. If it's a trap, they've some measure of preparation. If it's not, then there's a chance they'll be able to give those womens' families closure.
He and Emily share a sideways glance. 'Fine,' he concedes. 'Do you have a map of the area? We've got some searching to do.'