TW: some of the discussions around migraine pain and remedies might sound a little like self harm (I promise its not, but nevertheless) if this is triggering to you, please don't read this, and get help, you deserve to delight in sunrises again, even if it isn't right now.
also, major angst, Maeve's death storyline is in here, but we are not leaving Reid to grieve alone this time.
This story begins somewhere between seasons 4-6, After Reid gets clean and before Emily 'dies' I'm going to try to keep it in the correct sequence, but I'm likely to get a few things wrong, so please, be gracious.
Chapter 1: Suspect in the Sights
The third body in as many days was found in the Potomac. T branded into their left thumb and the right hand missing entirely.
Reverse engineering the current of the river and the locations of each discovery in relation to time of death led them to a tributary and a small town just thirty minutes drive of Quantico.
"The Petersons property runs next to the river for a few miles, but they're clean, blue collar man Mr. Peterson, he runs the autobody shop just down the road." Officer Davis explained, looking at the map Hotch showed him. "And then there's the Bernards place, keep to themselves mostly, I've locked that feller up a few times for drunken disorderlys."
"And on the other side of the river?"
"That ain't in my jurisdiction, but I can call the county over and ask."
"Do that, thank you." Hotch nodded and turned to his team. "Reid, Morgan, pay the Peterson's and Bernard's a visit, Rossi, you and Prentiss head over the river, I'll have Garcia call you with the details on the way."
Reid and Morgan pulled up a long driveway. A woman standing in front of an open garage brought an axe down on a block of wood, splitting it in half and turning to watch them as the SUV came to a halt and they exited cautiously.
A large dog stared them down from an old-fashioned hitching post between them and the house as though ready to tear out their throats.
"Ma'am, I need you to drop the weapon." Morgan commanded.
She put down the axe and spoke a low command: "at ease Frankie." The dog still watched, but she slunk to her belly in the grass. Nodding at their ready weapons the woman said, "your turn, I put mine away, and Frankie won't bite unless you give her a reason."
Morgan answered, "so you say, but Reid here is like canine kryptonite."
"actually, kryptonite-" Reid began, taking a half step back as the dog rose again to its feet. "Ma'am, your dog…"
"Frankie- heel- at ease." The woman commanded in staccato to bring the dog slinking back to her side. "Please, holster your guns, she will see you as a threat until you put them away."
Slowly, with an eye on the dog at all times, they did as she asked. As soon as their hands left the grips the dog's ears perked forward and she dropped onto her belly in a relaxed and regal manner.
Morgan set his palm slowly back on the gun and the dog shifted to a forward position, her mane bristling and her focus on him, he lifted his hand away, showing her the empty palm and Frankie relaxed again. "Good dog."
A slow sweep of the tail through the leaves rewarded him for this praise.
"Ma'am we're looking for Mister Bernard."
The woman froze, "Ben? What has he- no. no, if he'd- no… if you were here to notify you wouldn't have drawn on me."
"Please stay calm ma'am, we're just here to talk to him, now can you tell us if your husband is home?"
The woman shook her head, wiping her hands on the canvas apron she wore. "Ben is my brother, and he hasn't lived here for years. What is this about?"
"May we come inside Miss?" Derek asked politely.
"Olivia." She supplied, dropping the apron onto the axe handle and leading the way.
Reid was still watching the dog apprehensively, but he followed the other two into the house, looking relieved when the dog was left outside.
"Can I pour you a glass of sweet tea? Or if you prefer, I could make coffee…" Ms. Bernard asked, washing her hands in the kitchen sink while keeping both of them in her line of sight.
Morgan sat at the small table and nodded, "sweet tea is fine, don't trouble yourself."
She poured three glasses from a tall pitcher in the fridge, never leaving her back to them for more than the moment needed. She slid all three glasses onto the table and sat down across from Morgan, maintaining eye contact as he began.
"Ma'am"-
She interrupted him with a raised palm, "Olivia, please."
"Olivia, we need to ask you some questions about your brother."
"Ben." She spoke his name like an exhale of breath.
"When's the last time you talked to your brother?"
"Gosh, I don't know, couple of weeks maybe? I can check." She pulled a phone from a pocket in her cargo pants.
"So, you haven't seen him recently?"
"No, he's… inconsistent."
"Does he have access to the property, maybe when you're at work?"
"I work from home, don't spend a lot of time away. What exactly is this about?"
Reid returned from his examination of the living room, and dropped onto the available chair only to squint at the light coming in the window.
Olivia was on her feet and closing the blinds without a word, returning to her seat and taking another sip from her drink. "The FBI doesn't make house calls about dui's, so you think Ben did something serious."
"Drunk and impaired drivers cause more than 1.35 million deaths each year worldwide, I'd say that's pretty serious, wouldn't you?"
"Reid." Derek warned.
"What? it's a fact." Reid answered, looking away from him to find Olivia watching him. She didn't look away, even when he grimaced and shielded his eyes.
"I'm sorry about him." Derek said with an apologetic look at her and a grim one for his colleague.
"Don't be." Olivia answered, a sad sort of smile on her face. "I know the stats. Ben's license was revoked 4 years ago. I don't think he's been driving; he doesn't have a truck anymore. But he could have hitched a ride out here and hidden away in the bush. What exactly do you think Ben could have done?"
Derek refocused her attention on him by leaning forward with his forearms on the table. "We're working on a profile for a local case, I'm sure you've heard of the bodies in the Potomac?"
"Yeah, its all over the news."
"I know its difficult to think a family member could be guilty of this kind of thing, but we need you to be honest, could Ben be responsible?"
"Could my brother be a murderer? Maybe." Olivia nodded slowly, her gaze dropping to the table. "I mean, given the wrong circumstances and provocation, a lot of people could."
There was something so calm in her voice, so unsurprised by the question and pre-considered in her manner that Reid and Morgan shared a glance.
Reid pressed on, "The man we're looking for is a loner, someone who feels like the world has cheated him of something he ought to have, and he might have extensive experience with boats."
"He is organized and methodical, and he's targeting successful young men." Derek added.
"Sounded like Ben until you said organized, Ben's, well, Ben's an alcoholic with ptsd, he's as disorganized as it comes, doesn't know if he's coming or going the few times a year I hear from him, and he's in Montana, was, last I heard anyway."
"It's probably not him." Reid said, standing up suddenly and stalking out of the house as he dialed. "Hotch? Yeah, Benjamin Bernard is unlikely to be our unsub. No, Montana. Morgan's just wrapping up with the sister."
Reid watched from the car as Morgan turned one of his most charming smiles on Ms. Olivia Bernard and handed her his card with a request to call him if she thought of anything else.
"Flirting with a suspect." He muttered under his breath as Derek turned the key in the ignition.
"What did you just say to me?"
"You gave her that smile, told her to call you."
"Yeah, because people are more cooperative if you don't antagonize them. And she's not a suspect Reid, you know the guy we're looking for is male in his early thirties."
Reid, more stubborn than usual refused to let it go, "You saw the woodworking tools, the axe, a woman with masculine personality aspects could fit. And I looked at her bookshelves while you were making doe eyes over sweet tea, she's got books on crime, narcissism, addiction, schizophrenia, even the most recent printing of the dsm-5, and she didn't flinch when you suggested her brother could be a murderer."
"Maybe so, but there wasn't a single power tool in that workshop, why would she use hand tools at home and use a power saw on the victims?"
"You just think she's attractive." Reid muttered mutinously.
"And you're pissed that she read your headache."
The phone rang relieving Reid of the need for another barbed quip. Fortunate, as he'd run out of good reasons to be as uncomfortable about Ms. Bernard as he was. There was just something… off, about her.
Her slow careful movements, like a predator choosing each footstep with precision to avoid startling its prey. The obvious hypervigilance, never leaving her back open to attack, completely at odds with the fearlessness in her face when they had their guns drawn. Even her micro-expressions seemed carefully manufactured.
Morgan looked over at him again, "…and Garcia, while you're at it I've got another name for you to run."
"Let it fly my pretty."
"Olivia Bernard."
"Consider it done, sweetness."
"Thanks baby girl."