Let me just say that I am SOOO sorry for making you wait for an update for so long… But I had finals (Theology essay, Geography essays, a project and a test, and an English portfolio), and I had to move out of my room, so I had no time to do anything. Plus I was suffering from a short bout of writer's block, but I think I'm over it for the most part. I found that listening to music helped me a lot with my thought process (thanks to bands like The Fray, Five for Fighting, Snow Patrol, Linkin Park and even Rob Pattinson for helping me sort out this chapter). I'm giving you an extra long chapter (over 3,000 words) to make up for my lack of updates.
And an extra special "thank you!" to my reviews: SayidRocks, cloudgirl9 and dothepepperminttwist; you guys are AWESOME! And thank you to the reviewers of my other stories, and the people who favorite me and my stories, as well as put them on alert, and everyone who has been waiting patiently for my update. Free virtual chocolate brownies with extra frosting for all of you!
I only own Aislinn and the UnSub and some other original characters in this and past chapters. I don't own Criminal Minds, Linkin Park, Leave Out All The Rest (the song), Eoin Colfer, Artemis Fowl, Yeats, Proust, Chaucer or any other literary references. Nor do I own the college; I go there, and attend classes, that's it. I only own an iPod, a laptop, a cell phone, some books and clothes and a dog. That's it. ENJOY!
….
Aislinn's first class of the day consisted on an early morning Geography class, where they were learning about dead and dying languages; the entire class period was spent watching a movie about these languages, some of which had only one person speaking them.
"Can you imagine that?" Prentiss asked as they left the room. "I spent my entire childhood moving from place to place, and to think that all those languages were right there in front of me makes me wonder what would've happened if I had stayed in even one place."
"It's actually not uncommon for a language to die out," Reid began. "There is a possibility that sometime in the near-future, that the entire planet will in fact switch to a single language, making all other languages obsolete. In fact, the top choices for this theory include French, English, Spanish…."
"But two weeks?" Prentiss asked. That's… uncommonly fast."
"Not if you're the last native speaker of that language." Aislinn replied.
In English, Aislinn was reading Dubliners, which interested both Reid and Prentiss; Prentiss hadn't read the book since high school and college herself, and Reid had only seen the book once in an English class, his mother having never read the book, or kept it in the house, as far as he knew.
"Music plays an important role in the theme of each of the stories," Aislinn began. "Actually, music is a very intricate part of the Irish heritage and Irish society. In fact, the Irish are well-known for their jigs and airs, as well as their dancing, beer and legends of fairies."
"Ireland was also the home of many famous literary names," Reid added. "There was James Joyce, for one. But there was also Edna O'Brien, Oscar Wilde…"
"There's also William Butler Yeats, and Eoin Colfer; he wrote Artemis Fowl" Aislinn added, "and Bono."
"You mean the singer?" Prentiss asked.
"Yeah," Aislinn replied eagerly. "The lead singer form U2!"
"Wait," Reid asked, confused. "Who's Bono? What's 'U2?' What are you even talking about?"
"It's a band, Reid," Prentiss explained. "They're from Ireland, and they're really good."
I actually have some of their songs on my computer," Aislinn added. "I'll burn you some music from their CD's. They're really good."
"Wait a minute, burn?" Now poor Spencer was confused. "What's 'burn?' Isn't that bad for the environment, if you burn a CD."
"No, it isn't" Aislinn said. "It's kinda slang for 'I'll make you a copy of this CD, and put it on a disk for you so you can listen to it.' Usually I'll put just the ones I like, which I probably will, but I'll also put some of the other songs on it, too."
There was a pause before Reid continued. "I find the Artemis Fowl series enlightening. All the rules that Colfer set up for the fairies of his world are actually based on real Irish legends involving fairies; the whole concept that they, the fairies, were not allowed to enter a house unless invited, for example. Add the different scientific and technological advances that appear in the novels, and you come up with a very sophisticated race of people."
Aislinn nodded. "The fact that Colfer made his fairies more technologically advanced than humans speaks volumes through the series overall. I think it gives light to the fact there may be other races of people out there, more sophisticated than humans, don't you think?"
Reid nodded just as his phone started ringing. He pulled it out of his messenger bag to answer.
"Reid."
A short pause, where Spencer's whole demeanor changed before replying to whatever was said. "Okay, where?" he asked. "Okay… I'll be there in a…" He trained off. "Okay… Yeah… Thanks, Morgan." He hung up, turning to Prentiss and Aislinn.
"What is it?"
"They found another body; they think it's Matthew Colton's." Reid said. "Emily, they want you over at the dump site, on the corner of Edgcumbe and Randolph. Morgan asked me to stay here; he'll be along soon.
"Okay, sure." Emily said. "But why call you and not me?"
"Your phone's on, right?" Aislinn asked. Prentiss dug into her pocket and checked her phone.
"Damn," she muttered. "The battery died. But don't worry about it," she added hastily. "I'll grab the charger from the hotel on my way back."
"That's Matthew Colton's body," Donahue muttered as Prentiss approached the scene, Hotch and Rossi not far behind. "He was discovered at about 1:30 by a couple of people walking their dogs; they were heading home from the Patisserie just down the block." Donahue sighed. "I knew his father. Good man; he's a public attorney; his mother's an estate lawyer. Kid wanted to play hockey."
"We're sorry for your loss," Rossi said sympathetically. "This must be a very hard time for you."
Donahue nodded. "I promised his mother I'd find him alive."
Rossi and Hotch nodded; they had heard that sentence many times before, from cops and parents alike. It wasn't an easy thing to hear, despite it being repeated many times.
"I expect you probably hear that a lot," Donahue said, with an air of finality in his voice, "It's just…" he trailed off, hands frozen in a vague gesture. He lowered them, clearing his throat.
"He was found at about 1:30 this afternoon, and he expect the possibility that he was dropped off sometime this morning, probably around ten am."
"It's clear that no one saw him," Hotch explained, strolling around the area. "It's a suburban neighborhood. It's mostly families with children. Or couples with nine-to-five jobs that cause them to either not be here, or unable to see the street from their home office, if that is where they work."
"Wait, you said that 'it's a possibility that the body was dumped at about twn this morning?" Prentiss asked.
Donahue nodded. "According to the shape of the body, as well as the fact that nobody saw it until now, makes me believe that theory works best for your timeline."
"Aislinn Werner's first class is at 10:55 in the morning on Monday, Wednesday and Friday," Prentiss exclaimed. "Which, if your timeline is correct, would give the UnSub more than plenty of time to drive over to wherever his next victim is. Which means that his next victim is…"
"Aislinn Werner." Rossi said.
"We need to get to St. Catherine's now." Donahue roared. "Swan, Richards, you're with Agents Hotchner and Rossi. Prentiss, you and I will swing by the station and get Agent Jareau."
"Where's Morgan?" Prentiss asked.
"I called him before we arrived; he'll meet us on the St. Catherine's campus," cried Rossi as he and Hotch raced for the SUV. "Call Reid; have him and Aislinn meet us by Whitby Hall so we can get them out of there."
Aislinn sat at the foot of a tree sitting at the edge of the pond. She was playing with the silver chain of a small, inexpensive locket, staring out at the ducks swimming on its edge. Reid leaned against the tree, in a sort of relaxed stance. He saw the ducks, obviously grabbing Aislinn's attention, but he also found himself looking at Aislinn. The way the sun glanced off her hair, turning some of the light brown hairs into a fiery, copper red-orange color. The way the wind teased it, throwing it into her face, and the way she tucked it back behind her ear. She was quite lovely.
It's alright," she said suddenly.
Reid was confused. "What's alright?"
"You can come and sit with me," she turned toward him, patting a patch of grass next to her.
He sat; the sun was setting, giving the pond the illusion of being set on fire. He found that it was a beautiful sight, calming, reflective. When had Spencer ever sat and just… relaxed? Had just taken in the environment around him? He sighed, feeling the stress and fear of his job, his life, even, fall away.
"I like coming out here," Aislinn said. "It's a nice view. It's calming, despite being in the middle of the city."
You're right," Reid said. "It is."
"I sometimes come out here, and feed the ducks." She admitted. "When I feel stressed, or angry, I come here. I like seeing how simple life is for them. I sometimes come out here, to… think, I guess." Aislinn placed her chin on her hands.
Reid smiled; he admitted to doing that too. There was a small park not far from his apartment; sometimes, after a hard case, he'd go there, sometimes with a few stale pieces of bread, and just feed the ducks. It was a calming activity, like reading.
"What do you think about?" He found himself asking.
"The memories," Aislinn replied. "I mean, you don't just lose a parent without remembering everything that happened, all the events that led up to that moment. Sometimes I wonder if it was something I did, or if I'd been there when it happened, something would've changed, and could've, I don't know, stopped it, or seen the signs before it happened, and prevented it."
"Your father, Aislinn, was ill," Spencer said. "Believe me when I say, I know what it's like, to see a parent, someone you love, waste away from an illness, and knowing that you can do nothing to stop it. It's…" He paused, trying to think of something to say, to explain what he'd gone through trying to care for his mother.
"It's like there's a hole inside your chest, and there's nothing you can do to plug it up." She offered. "You want to do something, anything, to make them better. You hope they'll find a miracle cure, and that he'll be cured. You worry every time he goes to the hospital, because you feel that if they go, they might not come out alive, or that they won't even make it there alive."
"You couldn't have prevented it, Aislinn," Reid continued. "His body was shutting down; he knew it was over for him, and he wanted to go as peacefully as possibly."
"'When my time comes, forget the wrong that I've done; help me leave behind some reasons to be missed. Don't resent me, and when you're feeling empty, keep me in your memory, leave out all the rest.'" Aislinn whispered. "Linkin Park." At Reid's confused look, she explained. "It was a song I heard once. To me, it means that when someone you love dies, you should remember them the way they'd want to be remembered by you. That there should be good memories left behind, not regrets and resentments. Basically, you should hold on to your memories of the person, and leave behind any other memories that may tarnish that memory."
She looked at him, turning away from the ducks on the pond. "What happened with you?"
"My mother has schizophrenia, and my father left when I was ten." Spencer started. "I loved my mother, and on her good days, even if she stayed in bed, would read to me. Proust, Chaucer… It was always nice to listen to her. Sometimes, she would get out of bed, take a walk, cook sometimes, even. And for a moment, I would think that she would get better, that she would fight it off, and return to normal."
"And on her bad days?"
"Sometimes, she would think that she was being watched. I came home from school one day to find her burning all my toys and stuffed animals. She thought the government was watching her through their eyes. Other times, she'd have me write down the lyrics of Bob Dylan songs, thinking that they were telling the stories of our lives. And there were days," He paused, fingers fidgeting slightly. "Sometimes, I would come home, and she wouldn't even notice I was there, or she would think I was a government agent."
"What happened?"
Reid sighed, looking back out over the pond. "When I was 18, I committed my mother to a sanitarium in Las Vegas. Bennington. It was a really nice place, with great doctors and everything, but it felt like I had… failed her. It felt like I'd given up. But I'd known there was nothing I could do. I couldn't help her, and I felt helpless because of it. I still feel guilty about sending her away, and I write her a letter every day, telling her about what's happening, what I'm doing. I've been told that she enjoys them quite a bit."
Aislinn smiled. "Are all your stories like that?"
"Something of that sort," Reid admitted. "So…"
"I had just graduated, and the Sunday after my graduation party, we were having breakfast, when my parents explained that… There weren't many options left to pursue in treating dad's cancer." Aislinn paused. "I was… I was just getting ready for college a few months later when it happened. A childhood friend of my dad's and his son had come up to visit, and we were showing him around town. We were on the other side of the tracks when he called; Cowtown is what it's called, but it's mostly older houses over there. There hadn't been any livestock there for years."
"What happened?"
"Dad called mom, and said he couldn't breathe. Mom told him to call 911, and she'd come home." Aislinn swallowed. "We arrived at the house slightly ahead of the ambulance, but mom wouldn't let us kids in the house. She told us to move the patio furniture so the EMT's could get in. They stabilized him there in the house, but took him to the hospital just in case."
"And then?"
Aislinn started picking at her nails again. "He was supposed to start hospice that day, and the hospice nurse showed up just after the ambulance arrived. My aunt showed up shortly after it left. Mom and Robert, my dad's friend, left for the hospital in Robert's car. We went about an hour after the ambulance left to go to the hospital. We went in, went down the hall, but by then…"
"It was over?" Reid asked
Aislinn nodded; she didn't need to clarify. Tears started falling from her eyes. "Cardiac arrest," she whispered. "I can't remember what mom said, but I like to think he went peacefully." She sniffed. "I'm sorry about this," she muttered.
Spencer awkwardly patted her shoulder, and she curled up against him, burying her face in his shirt. He didn't know why, but it seemed right to Spencer. He noticed that her hair smelled of lavender and ocean breezes, and her clothes smelled of spring. He felt comfortable here; he felt that he could sit here all day and night. It almost seemed like several sunlit days had passed…
And then his phone rang.
Aislinn pulled away. "You should probably get that," she said, wiping the tears off her face, smiling slightly; Reid felt that it seemed… forced.
"What about…?"
"I'll be fine," she said. "Go."
Reid moved a slight distance away, toward the bridge that led out onto an island in the middle of the pond, and answered the phone.
"Reid."
"Oh Thank GOD!" Garcia cried in relief. "None of the others answered their phones, and I didn't know why…"
"They found another body, Garcia," Raid started, confused. "What…?"
"Don't speak, Boy Wonder; I have trèsimportant news that you MUST hear!" She sounded exasperated, but excited. "I think I have a connection between your victims…"
Soon she would be mine. Soon I would free her. Just as I had the others.
One of the Agents is with her. He is obviously watching so I can't take her, keeping me from saving her. She is so beautiful, and so sad. She needs to be saved, more than any of the others have. Maybe I'll do it here, there is no one else around. Save for the Agent, of course. But he looks as sad as she does. I could save him; hopefully it isn't too late for him, like it is for me.
WAIT! …He's getting up. He is answering his phone… And he's leaving the girl. Alone. He's not going too far away; just over the bridge, but he's far enough away for me to do what I came here to do, which is to save her….
Now is my chance; I may not get another one…
Aislinn watched Spencer walk along the edge of the Dew Drop Pond while talking on his phone to Garcia. She felt a smile come unbidden to her lips. She had felt so… comfortable in Spencer's arms; it was like she was supposed to be there, with him. He was amazing, and nice. And his life had been similar to her own life, in many ways….
She wiped at another tear that fell from her eyes. She really didn't want him to leave; they had so much in common; before her English class, they had chatted about various authors, and upon hearing just a minute ago that he had read Chaucer, Proust and other literary greats made her think that there were people in this world who cared about good literature, not just what was popular at the present moment.
But she knew he would have to leave; Spencer had a job, a home, a life back in Virginia; there was no way he would stay in Minnesota for her, and not a snowball's chance that he would even wait for her. Their age difference was astronomically astonishing at best; there were compatible now, but what about if they started dating? Moved in together? Got married? If he was even that remotely interested in her in the first place. She hadn't even had a boyfriend yet.
She stared at him for a moment, and almost didn't hear footsteps approaching her. She turned when she heard a stick in the grass break just off her right.
She looked up to see a man staring down at her. Dark hair, thin, muscular, dark clothes, a kind face… but Aislinn thought there was something off about his eyes….
"Can I help you with something?" She asked politely.
He smiled. "Actually, you can." He said….
….
A/N: I was feeling kinda heated over that major cliffhanger the Criminal Minds writers left us. I mean, HOW DARE THEY? TO BE CONTINUED? **gasp, faints** …INCONCIEVIBLE! Haha… But still, Poor Morgan…
Something else… Oh YEAH! Ummm… I have a poll up on my profile about a xover I'm planning, and I also have two stories submitted for a contest that The-Vampire-Act is hosting… Please check out the stories, they are on my profile: 12 Hours, and Off The Tracks And On Fire, both of which are a product of my musings (one of which is a result of something the AMAZING Matthew Gray Gubler posted on his Twitter… Who else couldn't concentrate on the last few episodes because of his yummy hair?). Check out the poll, and my stories, and vote (poll for the contest is on The-Vampire-Act's profile).
Hoping you leave me a review!
*~N_CBAU~*