"This is the Goddess of the Information Superhighway, how can I help you?"
"Hey baby, what've you got for us?" Morgan grinned. Reid was leaning over his shoulder, and Prentiss and Rossi were setting up the board at the other end of the room.
"Okay, well trying to find connections between the victims was a bust, they don't even all have the same bank. I'm cross-referencing phone records right now but that could take some time. All of them grew up in middle class households, the third woman's parents died in a car crash when she was seventeen. Other than that, I've drawn a blank so far, sorry chocolate thunder. How's Santa Barbara?"
"The police department has a psychic," Reid spoke up, his eyes sparkling. Garcia gasped.
"A psychic? When do I get to meet him!"
"He's not a real psychic, those don't exist," Emily called from across the room.
"Actually, there's no evidence to prove that they do or don't exist," Reid rocketed off. "So he could be a psychic." Morgan snorted.
"He's not a psychic, he's just a damn good profiler. He was looking at us the same way we look at any unsub. I know that look anywhere."
"Whoever he is, I want to meet him," Garcia squealed, clearly excited.
"Well, here he comes. Apparently Hotch commandeered him, and the kid doesn't look too happy about it," Rossi chuckled as he hung up another photo. Morgan chuckled as Garcia squealed again, her hands clapping together. Reid stood up, watching as Hotch led JJ and Shawn Spencer into the room, the detectives following close behind. The Chief had probably gone back to her own office to handle some politics or other cases. The resident psychic did look distinctly uncomfortable, but that was probably due to the fact that Detective Lassiter was hissing something angrily in his ear, and Shawn kept trying to shy away from him without responding or making a big deal out of it. Irritation flashed over the psychic's face, and it was clear he was used to being able to deal with the detective verbally, but probably felt he needed to be on better behavior in front of the FBI.
"Lassie, would you stop?" Reid heard the psychic hiss, not unkindly, before he stepped away from the taller man, who looked completely livid. The female detective, Detective O'Hara, put a restraining hand on his arm, and Lassiter glanced at her, let out a sigh, and visibly calmed down. Shawn seemed to notice they were drawing attention, because he suddenly broke into a broad grin and threw his arms out. "Welcome to our lair, Agents!" he chirped in an obvious attempt to cut the tension. Rossi, at the other end of the room, chuckled, and Morgan shook his head. Hotch had a strange look on his face.
"Shawn!" Detective O'Hara hissed, and the psychic shot her a look, lowering his arms.
"It's fine, Detective," Hotch assured her, shaking his head. "With a case like this, we could all use some humor." The grin was back on Shawn's face. "Besides, we heard he's been very useful to his department."
"He's a menace," Detective Lassiter shot off before he seemed to realize what he was saying and froze dead. Hotch tilted his head curiously.
"What he means to say," Detective O'Hara sighed, defusing the situation, "is that Shawn's methods are... unique. But it is undeniable that he is a valuable resource. There isn't a case he's been on that he hasn't solved."
"Before putting someone in danger," Detective Lassiter grumbled, and Shawn looked stricken and embarrassed.
"Lassie, you know I don't do it on purpose! I'm not the one putting people in danger, it's the criminals with the weapons!" Lassiter opened his mouth to shoot back a retort but seemed to rethink it as he saw the amused looks on the agents' faces.
"Is that the psychic?" Garcia's voice came in a stage whisper from the computer's speakers. Both detectives jumped, and Emily held back a snicker.
"Yes, baby girl, that's the psychic," Morgan chuckled as he beckoned Shawn forward. The man seemed nervous, glancing at Juliet, who nodded, before going around the table to the computer, leaning down behind Morgan and waving.
"Psychic Detective Shawn Spencer, at your service, my lady," he sung with a cheeky smile.
"So you're really psychic?" Garcia asked, looking at him through narrowed eyes.
"Of course I am, what else would I be?"
"A damn good liar," Morgan muttered, and he heard Detective Lassiter snort across the room. Shawn chose not to respond.
"Why, who are you?"
"Penelope Garcia," was all Garcia said. Shawn grinned at her.
"Nice to meet you, Penelope."
"Garcia."
"Alright, Garcia," he corrected, still smiling. Agent Hotchner cleared his throat.
"If we're done with the pleasantries..."
Everyone took a seat around the table. Shawn was glad he was seated next to Agent Dr. Reid, who seemed nice, but mortified that he was also seated next to Agent Morgan, who acted like Shawn might try to take Dr. Reid's head off at any moment. "What do you have so far, Detectives?" Hotch asked, looking at Jules and Lassie. The two glanced at each other before letting out long sighs.
"Honestly? A whole lot of nothing," Lassiter responded, rubbing his forehead. "No fingerprints, no DNA, no murder weapon, no witnesses. No connections between the victims. We've been tracking down people known to be connected to the cartels, but they all claim not to know anything about the crimes, and without probable cause we can't keep them."
Shawn tuned out the conversation as ideas were tossed around, studying the board set up across the room. As far as he could tell, there were no connections between the victims. He wracked his brain for anything that would help the agents, something that he had missed before when sneaking a look at the files, but came up blank. All the victims were single, kept to themselves, owned their own apartments. Three were white, one was black, and one was Hispanic. If the timeline was correct, another body would be found tomorrow - most likely Tommy Munich, who had been reported missing two days ago and fit the age range.
Agent Hotchner's voice drew Shawn out of his musings. He was addressing his team. "Reid, you stay here and work on the geographical profile. Rossi, Prentiss, you go to the first two crime scenes and see what you can find. Morgan and I will go to the last three. JJ, work with the Detectives to see if you can find anything connecting the victims, since Garcia couldn't dig up anything. We'll reconvene here at dinner." Shawn blinked at being left out of the planning, glancing up as everyone around him began to rise and grab their coats, but he decided not to say anything. He didn't feel like drawing attention to himself, not now that he knew these people were profilers.
As it was, Spencer Reid had no problem with Shawn Spencer, whether he was psychic or not. He found the man incredibly easy to talk to, in fact, and talk they did. Shawn could provide a lot of information on the victims, but nothing that wasn't in the files already, which Spencer knew already. He contributed best he could to the geographical profile, and suggested places within the boundaries Spencer finally determined where the victims were likely to meet the unsub: a supermarket, a library, a church, a soup kitchen. But Spencer could tell Shawn was troubled about something when they finally did finish the geographical profile, which took most of the day and was finished just before the others got back for dinner of Chinese takeout.
"What's wrong?" he finally asked, not sure he would get an answer. Shawn glanced up and flashed a small smile.
"It's just..." He finally sighed and pointed to a place on the map, right in the middle of the profiled area. "That's my new apartment." He bit his lip, glancing up at Spencer. "So, I hope you can tell me you think that's a coincidence man, because I'm having a hard time thinking it." Reid blinked, looking back down at the point on the map. It was right in the middle of where the victims were last seen.
"It's kind of hard to think that's a coincidence, certainly." Spencer could tell the psychic's anxiety spiked with his words and immediately bit his tongue. He hadn't meant to make his new friend nervous.
"This implicates me, doesn't it? Do you think Agent Hotchner will find me suspect?" Reid studied Shawn's face, watching his body language closely, before shaking his head.
"Hotch won't, because it's pretty clear you didn't do this. Despite the fact that many serial killers like to insert themselves into investigations, you've been investigating for far longer than the killings have been going on, and you show no evidence of sadism." It was complete bullshit, but it seemed to put Shawn at ease.
"You're bullshiting me, man," Shawn laughed after a moment. "But thanks." Spencer smiled a bit. "Really though, am I a suspect now?" Reid tilted his head, considering how to answer.
"If you are, I'll vouch for you." Shawn blinked, seeming surprised, before breaking into a grin.
"Thanks."
Reid was about to say something else, but his phone started to ring. He flipped it open without looking at the caller ID. "Spencer Reid."
"Hey Reid, it's Morgan. Hotch and I didn't find anything, and Prentiss and Rossi just called to say the same thing. We've been out all day, so we're just going to head back to the hotel and order in. We can discuss the case before bed, Hotch says. I'll come pick you up?"
"Sure. I want to show you the geographical profile anyway. Shawn and I noticed something that might be important." Spencer glanced at the psychic to see him listening in, his head tilted in thought.
"You think these have something to do with me?" he whispered, suddenly coming to the same conclusion Reid had. Spencer watched Shawn for a moment before deciding not to answer.
"Alright man, I'll be there in about twenty minutes, I just need to drop Hotch off."
"Okay, we already ordered Chinese so we can eat here if you like?"
"Sounds good."
Reid flipped his phone closed as Shawn sunk into a chair, staring at the map. "Damn," he muttered. "This could be about me...?" He looked up at Reid. "They could be dead because-" He broke off, looking down at the map again. He almost hoped that they had done something wrong, but he knew they hadn't. Spencer, if not him, was too smart for that.
"It's just a theory I have," Spencer tried to reassure him, but he had a sickening feeling that this was much bigger than they originally thought.
Shawn had just left to make more coffee when Morgan walked in laden down with Chinese. "I intercepted the delivery guy on the way in here," he said with a grin, before he saw the grave look on Reid's face and his smile fell. He put down the food. "What's going on, kid?"
"I think this is a lot more complicated than we thought."
A second later Detective Lassiter stormed in, trailed by Shawn, who carried two cups of coffee, offering one to Morgan. "Jules and JJ will be here in a minute, they're interviewing MaryKate's mother."
"The second victim?" Morgan asked as he sipped the coffee thankfully. Shawn nodded confirmation. Lassiter glanced at Shawn before speaking up.
"Spencer said that you guys found something?" Shawn and Reid both looked up, and Shawn started laughing.
"That could get confusing Lassie. Dr. Reid's first name is Spencer. Perhaps you can call me Shawn for just one case?" Lassie shook his head, drinking his own coffee as he sank gratefully into a seat and pulled some orange chicken towards him.
"What did you find anyway?" Shawn heaved a sigh, sitting in a chair himself and placing the other coffee next to Spencer. Morgan had gone around behind Reid, studying the map.
"This the profile?" Spencer nodded, pointing to a spot in the middle.
"That's Shawn's apartment." Shawn thought Lassie was going to spit out his coffee. "I wanted a second opinion," Reid said, looking up at Morgan. "Do you think this is a coincidence?" Morgan rubbed the back of his neck, studying the map before slowly shaking his head, glancing at the psychic.
"Probably not." Shawn visibly wilted, resting his head in his hands. Lassiter, for his part, looked livid, and obviously didn't come to the same conclusion as the rest of them.
"Get up, Spencer," he growled, grabbing Shawn's shoulder. "You're going to tell me where Tommy is."
"Lassie- Lassie what the hell! I didn't do it, man! Someone's trying to get at me!" Shawn seemed stricken and confused, surprised that Lassiter could even think such a thing was done by him. The detective was having none of it, and Morgan rushed over to pull the taller man off.
"Detective! Detective! He didn't do it!"
"How do you know? I wouldn't put it past him! I bet that's why he became a private investigator - he likes looking at the bodies! But that's not enough for him anymore!"
"I think I'm going to be sick," Shawn said weakly, sinking down into a chair again, and Lassiter finally froze, staring at the man.
"It really wasn't you, was it?"
"No," Shawn said in a small voice, trying to chuckle. "But, thanks for the vote of confidence, Lassie. Glad you have such high expectations of me." He covered his face, wracking his brain. "I can't even think of anyone who would do this," he said weakly. "I don't know, man, I don't know what's happening."
"Can't you just ask the spirits?" Lassiter shot at him with only a little bit of mirth. Shawn looked up at him, and Lassiter was stricken by the lost look on his face.
"Man, don't you think I have?"
Silence fell in the room, and Shawn stared at the map, suddenly not feeling hungry. "Well," Reid said timidly, "maybe you and I can work out a list of people who would potentially like to target you." Shawn nodded, moving over to a seat beside Spencer, and the two began to talk. Morgan watched as Spencer cheered the older man up considerably, both of them quickly devolving into rattling off different facts or stories they'd heard. He retreated to the other side of the table, eager to start eating himself, and heard Detective Lassiter following him. He took a long drink of his coffee, sighing.
Presently, somehow, Shawn had gotten Reid onto one of his tangents, and was hanging on every word with surprised interest, even asking questions. And Morgan found himself unable to stand it. Why were they both so loud and incredibly annoying?
Apparently he wasn't the only one annoyed, because the same time he opened his mouth he heard an annoyed shout of "Spencer!" Both of the men at the other end of the table flinched, looking up.
"Yeah, Lassie-face?" Shawn answered, as Reid seemed slightly taken aback.
"Will you shut the fuck up?" Detective Lassiter growled.
"Oh Lassie, you know I have a hard time doing that on the best of days." Lassiter slammed his hands down on the table and stood up, causing Reid to stand as well.
"Morgan!" he called anxiously, positive he wouldn't be able to diffuse the situation.
"Oh shut up, Reid," Morgan heard himself snarl, to his own surprise. "No one likes your little spiels anyway, always having to prove how goddamn smart you are, aren't you?!" Reid took a step back like he had been physically struck, paling slightly.
"M-Morgan- I-" Shawn had stood up by this point, staring at Lassiter and Morgan.
"Spencer, something's wrong with them."
"You're what's wrong with me, Spencer!" Lassiter shouted angrily before launching across the room. "I don't know how you fooled these agents, but I know you killed those people! You're under arrest!"
"Las- Detective Lassiter- Please, just calm down man, you know I didn't do it-!" Shawn stumbled back, placing his body between Spencer and Lassiter, which Morgan thought was admirable, before grabbing the lanky agent's hand and running for the door.
Morgan's rage was bubbling up - this fake psychic was trying to resist arrest - and positioned himself between them and the door. Lassiter grabbed Shawn's arm and yanked him away from Spencer, throwing him on the ground. Spencer seemed to shake out of his shock and pulled his gun, pointing it at the detective. "Let him go, now."
Lassiter froze, glaring at Spencer, as Morgan drew his own gun and flipped the safety off, pressing it against the back of Spencer's head. Oh God, how he would love to pull the trigger and be rid of the damned smart-ass once and for all. Reid froze. "Drop it," Morgan growled, and slowly Reid complied, pushing it across the table next to him. The detective grinned as Shawn looked up in horror, his hands being cuffed behind his back. Morgan reached over and locked the door.
"Detective, what do you say we get some answers from that guy?"
Everything seemed to blur for Reid. He didn't understand what was going on, but Morgan's hateful words echoed sharply in his head while he watched on with horror as Lassiter proceeded to beat the shit out of Shawn Spencer. Shawn scrambled to his feet as best he could, trying to get the table between him and Lassie, but a sharp kick to his knees brought him down again, and a fist to his face drew a cry.
"Where is Tommy Munich?!"
"I don't know, Lassiter, I don't know!" he wailed, curling up the best he could to protect himself from the attacks. Lassiter grabbed his shoulders and picked him up, throwing him into the evidence board. A well placed kick to the ribs gave a sickening crack and a scream, and Lassiter's face was twisted with rage. Reid started forward - he needed to stop this - but Morgan's strong grip drew him back, a gun pressed to his jaw leaving him breathless in terror.
"You're fucking useless, Reid," he heard the hiss in his ear. "You can't even stop one simple public disturbance."
"You aren't stopping it either," Reid replied, unable to stop his mouth, and he felt the gun draw back before a sharp pain in his temple sent him sprawling to the floor, blood trickling down his face, spots dancing in front of his eyes.
"You're always the smart assed little bitch, aren't you Reid?!" Morgan's foot connected with his stomach and he cried out, tears coming to his eyes. He could hear Shawn wailing, and someone trying to unlock the door. He scrambled under the table to escape Morgan's wrath, and heard the older man laughing hysterically.
"You're so fucking weak! How did you become an FBI agent?!"
There was his gun, on the floor on the other side of the table.
But before he could get to it, Shawn landed on his back next to it, and time seemed to slow as Shawn and Spencer locked eyes in horror. Reid could see the detective's hand reach down and pick up his own discarded gun, could hear the safety click off. He could see as Shawn turned his head, the complete terror in his eyes that started to stream tears. And then he could feel a hand on his ankle, drawing him out before a foot stomped down on his shin, undeniably cracking it and making him scream shrilly.
Then the door burst open and the room was swarming with SPBD cops, Detective Juliet and JJ in the lead.
"Lassiter!" Juliet cried, her gun pointed at her partner, while JJ's own gun was trained on Morgan, her jaw locked like she might be sick. Both of the attacking men were sweating and shaking now, looking worse for wear.
"There was something in the coffee," Spencer sobbed in the sudden silence, gripping his leg. "They're on something. There was something in the coffee." There was ragged breathing from Shawn on the other side of the table, small whimpers filling the room.
And then Morgan and Lassiter both collapsed, their eyes rolling back, and the room was filled with movement again.
AN: Sorry for the cliffhanger, this is what I have written up until this point. I know the story is really confusing right now, I might rewrite this chapter? But hopefully things start to get clearer and make more sense. I don't know when I'll update next, I have a couple projects due in the next few weeks I need to work on, but reviews would be greatly appreciated.
