FOUND

Chapter Three

Lonely People

"You know, Prentiss, the R in CARD actually stands for 'rapid'," Derek Morgan calls out as soon as he sees his old colleague get out of her car. It's shiny and new, obviously a fleet vehicle. The lights would have given it away even if it hadn't been in a cavalcade. Three vehicles carrying seven agents, the Crimes Against Children Unit are ready to get down to business.

Emily shakes her head, bemused, and raises her eyebrows. "Child Abduction Rapid Deployment team, yes, I believe I'm aware," she replies. "We got stuck in traffic. Lots of it." She's been involved with the CACU for a year, unit chief for the past eight months, and the position suits her well. Her pantsuit is black and fitted, but the blouse is less casual than the ones she used to wear around the BAU.

"Everyone's waiting in a conference room," Morgan says, "Kelly sent me down to welcome you and send your team on ahead. I suppose she thinks you ought to be filled in on a few things before you enter upstairs."

Ten years in the same team with him apparently did Emily some good when it came to reading Morgan's thoughts. She waves her team off and doesn't miss the way Derek's stance relaxes just a little as the CARD team go on ahead. "What is it you don't want to discuss in front of them?" Emily asks, one hand sliding up to her hip and resting there as she listens to the answer.

Morgan runs a hand over his smooth bald head, knowing he may as well come right out with it. Emily Prentiss is good at prioritizing and keeping herself removed from a situation. It's the reason why she was headhunted by the CACU for unit chief. Just tell her, he thinks to himself. "Bridget Gardiner's mom, Pip, is actually Penelope Garcia. Our Garcia. She's been in Alexandria hanging out with Gideon the whole time," Morgan knows he's missing out a few things but that's basically all he knows.

"Wow," Emily says, drawing out the vowel, "well have I got a few more questions for her, then."

"Don't we all?" Morgan replies, then gestures towards the door. "Briefing first though, right?"

. . . . .

It's been years since Garcia saw the inside of a precinct. Now that she's here, she's struck by the thought that this one in particular resembles an ant colony. People are scuttling to and fro, mincing around the numerous desks and chairs. There are snatches of paperwork scattered around, some in disarray and others in neat little piles. In a way it resembles the old bullpen that agents were always shunted into before they'd earned an office.

Penelope trails behind Hotch and Reid with Liam's little backpack hooked awkwardly on one shoulder while she leads him by his hand. It feels like all of the eyes in the room are staring at her, which is kind of understandable. She gets it, she's the mother, but the walk wouldn't be so difficult if she didn't feel like she was being judged. You let Bridie get kidnapped and didn't even notice, she thinks guiltily, of course they're judging.

Her grip on Liam's hand is tighter than usual but he doesn't seem to mind. She gives it a soft squeeze and listens half-heartedly to numerous introductions. There are detectives and deputy chiefs, but she can't be bothered learning all of their names just yet. "I'm Pippin Gardiner, and this is Liam," she tells them when it's her turn. They all look at her with pity but she can't decide whether it's because they're sympathetic, or she looks so dishevelled and miserable. Perhaps it's both.

They're shuffled along and herded to one of the larger conference rooms and Penelope is about to enter too until she feels a hand on her elbow. She looks around, surprised to see one of the plainclothes police women reaching out. "We've got a break room all decked out for you and the little guy, if you'll come with me?" The detective stands there in her ironed clothes with a polite smile on her face and all Garcia can think is that she looks fake.

The room they come to is small, but big enough for a few bits of nondescript looking furniture. A kitchenette occupies one of the walls and a couch is lined up along another. It's plain, grey, and has a smattering of different stains, but Garcia figures it's pretty much going to be her home until Bridget is found. She shakes her head at the offer of coffee and tentatively perches on the couch. "A three year old and highlighters? That's just begging for vandalism," she comments, gesturing towards a collection of materials that Liam has already pounced upon.

"Brightening up this room wouldn't be such a bad thing," the detective replies with a small grin, "that FBI girl made sure it got done. There's also got a phone if you'd like to call any friends or family. If there's someone who could come and keep you company, or perhaps babysit your son."

Garcia shakes her head, trying to think of the correct response. There doesn't seem to be a right one, so instead she opts for the truth. "I don't have many of those," she admits quietly, "and I'd prefer for Liam to stay with me."

"That's fine, ma'am," the detective replies, giving her a sad look. Pip Gardiner only has mild acquaintances, though she gets along with most people. It always seemed traitorous to get close to people when she wasn't being honest about who she was. "Now, ah, I'm not sure what other people have got you to do, but would you mind making a few lists for us? One for places you've been to in the past month or so, and another of anyone you've come in contact with. Even if a detail seems insignificant, it might help."

Penelope nods and reaches out for a scrap piece of paper and one of Liam's highlighters.

. . . . .

They don't have much of a profile yet, but each of the BAU members shares what they have so far with the CACU agents. Reid and Hotch volunteer their observations about the Gardiner family and Gideon adds whatever information he thinks might be helpful. "I live upstairs but just arrived home from a two week stay in Chicago just yesterday. Pip takes the kids to a playgroup every second Wednesday, but otherwise she keeps mostly to herself. She shops locally, takes Liam and Bridget to the park, and is a very dedicated mother," he tells them, then launches into the morning's events.

Reid produces the note and passes it around the room while the agents talk about its significance. Soon the discussion extends to a preliminary profile and the agents are debating motive, but it's interrupted by the ringing of a phone. Emily reaches out and presses the speaker button, "everyone is all ears," she says.

"Ma'am, I got patched through to you 'cause my partner and I are down at Waterfront Park standing in front of a girl's body. She matches the AMBER that went out a half hour ago, 'cept for the clothes," the voice on the other end of the line sounds strained and distressed.

The tension within the room increases tenfold and no one looks happy. However, it's Gideon who leans closer to the phone and barks out, "does she have freckles, two of them, on the back of her left hand, or recent scrapes on both of her knees?"

"I'm checking, sir," the voice replies hastily, "no freckles. Ah, no, no scrape on her right knee, or her left."

Gideon flattens his hand on the table next to the phone, spreading his fingers out in relief. "Then I don't think it's Bridie, but I want you or your partner to take a clear photo of her face right now and send it along to-" he clicks his fingers at one of the agents who has their PDA sitting on the long table. The number is read out twice to the beat cop and it's only moments before the PDA gives off some telltale beeps.

"It's not the same girl," the CARD agent announces, and passes her phone to Gideon for confirmation, "though probably the same unsub."

Hotch leans across and looks at the PDA's screen for himself, and though he's mollified somewhat because it's not Bridget Gardiner who's been left in a local park, it's still a dead little girl and he can't be completely relieved. "I need four of us there right now," he tells all of the agents in the room. "Jason, are you alright to go?"

"Absolutely," he replies, standing up and grabbing the coat he'd tossed over the back of his chair.

Emily stands up too and gestures towards two of her agents. Past and present members of the BAU know that Reid will be most useful in front of a map, and Hotch needs to exude his authority all over the precinct so the investigation can be orderly. Morgan gives his head a small shake, "I'm going to stick around and talk with the Gardiners, see if they've remembered anything new."

. . . . .

The four of them, Gideon, Emily, Helen, and Mike, file into one of the CACU cars and rush down Duke Street with the sirens blaring. They manage to make it to the scene within seven minutes, which seems impressive for 8:30am. There are a couple of patrol cars in the parking lot, two motorcycles, and no vans yet but that's a good thing. It means there's less chance of the scene having been disturbed.

Emily only worked with Gideon for a year, which was long enough to learn a lot from him, but too far back for her to remember how impolite he is. Direct might be a better adjective, but whichever one she decides on, it's a term to describe how he completely ignores the cops and heads straight for the body. She understands the appeal in that, but that's not how she handles things and she introduces herself and her agents to the first responders.

The backstory is short, though not necessarily sweet. Emily learns that an elderly couple noticed the little girl laying in a flower bed, "they thought she was ruining it, crumpling the flowers, you know, and they couldn't see any parents around," one of the cops states. Emily recognizes that voice from the phone and she feels sorry for the guy, he's young and probably hasn't come across something like this before. "They're right over there, we thought it'd be best for them to sit down," he adds, pointing to a park bench close by.

Emily sends off her agents to go talk with the couple and it's only then, after she's made sure everyone knows their task, that she walks to where Gideon is bent over a flowerbed. The little girl and Bridget Gardiner are part of a type. Although that was obvious in the original grainy cell phone picture, it's even more obvious now. The girl is around Bridget's age, maybe older, but there's similarity in the facial structure and colouring.

For a moment the unfamiliar girl's face becomes Bridget's in Emily's mind (as if she wasn't already motivated enough to get this case solved, and solved now). Prentiss has seen photographs of Bridget and she's one of those beautiful little girls with a beaming smile and innocence in her eyes. The girl in the flowerbed has an air of innocence too. It's staged and forced, but still there.

"Hands are resting on her chest, hugging the doll close. Her legs are crossed, she's tidy, clean, and placed rather than dumped, but we are likely to find evidence of molestation," Gideon says, musing aloud. Emily can see such things for herself. It's impossible to miss that the girl has been posed, and it's probably because there's remorse. However, it's the clothes and accessories that really strike Emily as odd.

"I haven't seen a dress like that this side of the eighties, early nineties at the latest," she remarks dryly, staring at the frilly monstrosity. It's mostly bright purple with pink polkadots, proof that not all fashion is timeless. If she focuses on small details it's easier to ignore the big picture, that she is examining the corpse of a child who could easily be the daughter of a friend. Ex-friend. Friend. Focus on the scene, Emily, she reprimands herself.

Gideon nods and rises up from the ground, batting soil from his knees. "Crime scene folks are here," he notes and takes a few steps backwards so they can take the necessary pictures. "This site is accessible and public, but set back from the footpath. Our unsub wanted the body to be found quickly but not immediately," he frowns and looks around at the pathways that thread through the expanse of lawn. Prentiss recognizes his concern and she knows that it's warranted.

"He's expressing a great deal of remorse," she replies, "and although he's emotional, this isn't spur of the moment."

Emily tucks her hair behind her ear and watches on as photographs and video footage are taken. The police from Alexandria's investigation bureau are fast and efficient but Emily knows it's best to keep out of their way during their initial inspection. It gives her time to properly look at the park, which is oddly open for a dump site. She takes note of the differences between this park and the ones they passed on the way. "He could have easily gone to a less isolated place, or more public, but he chose here," she observes.

"Look around," Gideon says, waving a hand at their surroundings. "There are trees, birds, flowers, the Potomac. He wasn't trying to make a statement, he just sought out a peaceful resting place, a disposal site." Emily hadn't really noticed it before, being too concerned about the body to properly inspect the area, but Gideon is right. There's a tranquil air about this place, with a gentle breeze rolling off the river to gently brush past the trees.

"He cared for that girl and hopefully he'll care about Bridget enough to keep her alive until we can find her," Emily replies with a hint of optimism. She points across the small stretch of grass to the parking lot, where a white van has just arrived. "Coroner," she remarks, "time to find out more."

. . . . .

The table meeting is adjourned while Prentiss and Gideon check out the crime scene. Kelly has already excused herself so she can put a hold on the press conference, and Derek figures he should start making himself useful. "Come on, kid," he says, using the nickname that he'll never let Reid grow out of. Not even now, when he's thirty years old and no longer the most inexperienced person on the team. "Let's go talk with Gar- the Gardiners," he suggests, correcting himself at the last minute.

Reid excuses himself from the discussion he's having with one of the CACU agents and stands up, reluctance showing in his face and mannerisms, "do you think we'll get much more from them than Gideon?"

Morgan has to hand it to the guy, he's handling the appearance of his old mentor rather well. He shrugs and picks up his notepad, "Gideon is incredibly close to the situation, he might have missed something, and they've had time to think things through. You can make friends with your map once we know where the Gardiners have been."

There's logic and reason in that, right? It's not just that he simply doesn't want to do this interview alone. Even so, it's a good idea to have Reid around to have someone else there and the younger man doesn't give any more protests. They find the break room easily and Derek enters the room first. He doesn't say anything as he sets himself against the wall.

Now that he's had some time to get used to the idea of his old best friend being around, he realises that it's not just her hair and fashion sense that has changed. She's less frivolous, less open, and it kind of sucks. He wouldn't have believed she could ever stop being vibrant and noticeable, but perhaps it's just been a slow decline since Kevin died and Morgan just wasn't around to see.

Liam looks up from his drawing for a few seconds and ducks his head back down, but Garcia is staring at them with a look of uncertainty on her face. She catches herself and blushes, then hurries to stir the coffee she's making. "Want a cup?" she asks, moving to grab two more mugs before either of them reply, "black and mostly sugar, the other white with one?"

"I take mine black now," Morgan replies, "but good memory."

The room is run of the mill cop shop, though Derek figures it's better than waiting at home alone. Once the drinks are fixed Reid moves to help carry them to the coffee table. "It's not mostly sugar. There's just a lot of it," he smiles impishly as he sets them down. He's careful to put the hot cups in a place where they won't interfere with Liam's artistic pursuits. "That's a pretty cool drawing," he comments.

There are a few moments of awkward silence and it's Garcia who breaks it. "Liam is fantastic at drawing," she says, "Liam, these two men are Mummy's friends who she hasn't seen in a long time. They're both very nice, do you want to meet them?"

He shakes his head and continues with his drawing, which causes Garcia to frown. He'll come around, Morgan thinks, and we can hold off on the recall until he does. "It's okay, we can wait until Liam finishes up. He's probably scared of me because I was so upset this morning, but that was because I was very surprised," he says it loud enough for Liam to hear and he hopes that the boy will warm up to him after they've shared the same space for a while.

"Probably," Penelope replies, "I don't think he's ever been quite so close to someone who's yelling before." It's impossible to tell what she means by her statement, it's neither accusatory nor forgiving. She pinches the fabric of her dress and sweeps it out as she sits down.

"I'll have to make sure I say sorry to him then," Morgan comments as he drags one of the rickety chairs from the table. Because Liam is kneeling on the ground there's enough room on the couch for the three adults, but it doesn't seem right to squash together like that. Morgan would have once revelled in the chance to sidle up next to Garcia and throw an arm around her, but he can't revert back to that so quickly. "I know you've probably been asked a million questions today already, but we need to ask some more so we can figure out why this guy targeted your family," he tells her once they're all seated.

"Ask away," she responds. The corners of her lips turn slightly upwards in a rather poor attempt to smile. They know that somehow her time as the BAU's technical analyst has prepared her for this. Other mothers would be sobbing and inconsolable at this point but she's managing to focus.

"Can you tell us about your typical day? Like what you do, when you leave the house, who you speak to?" Reid prompts. He's trying to be all business, which is probably the best way to get around this. They've been taught, each of them, that it's dangerous to let your mind wander from the job at hand. By the same token, they shouldn't be involved in cases that are too close to home. However, the BAU are collectively the best profilers in the country and there's no one more qualified to work this case as long as they can keep their feelings in check.

Penelope takes a sip of her coffee, her fingers spreading out over the outside of the cup and cradling it protectively. "I don't have a regular job. I mean, I do freelance web design sometimes, but it's Jason who financially supports us. He says I'll pay him back one day, and he likes the company," she looks at the deep brown liquid rather than at either of the profilers as she begins to talk about her life.

The picture she paints seems completely normal enough for a suburban stay at home mom, until Derek realises the only name she ever mentions is Jason. "I noticed there wasn't anything in your home to indicate you have links with anyone else, but are there any other people in your life? Friends maybe? Or are you alone?" Reid asks. If Morgan were any closer to him he may have tried to jostle Reid with his elbow. As it is, he settles for a firm glare.

Penelope shakes her head, "it feels wrong," she states. She ducks her head a little, causing hair to form a curtain over her face. "It's kind of dishonest to befriend people when I'm lying about who I am," she explains. A soft clunk resonates through the room as she places her empty mug down on the table, "I'm friendly to people, but not friends with them, if that makes any sense."

"It doesn't, really," Reid remarks, furrowing his brow, "not unless you went missing to punish yourself, rather than start a new life." He doesn't mean for it to be vindictive, it's not in his nature, but he doesn't seem to have properly considered how his words are out of place. They're treading a line here between too familiar and too distant, which seems to be making interactions harder.

Derek notices the injured look on Garcia's face and his dormant protective feelings towards her start to stir. Despite being angry at the woman, Derek loves Penelope just as much as he did when she left and he believes she's already hurting enough. "Hey, Doctor Reid with the four PHDs and fancy memory, I don't suppose you have the Webster definition of 'tact' memorised?" he interjects. Morgan reaches out to clasp his hands around one of Penelope's, "forgive him, baby girl. The more he learns in academia, the less he remembers about real life interactions." His tone is joking and warm and, for the first time since setting eyes on Garcia an hour ago, he smiles.

"Sorry," Reid says, giving her an apologetic look. He is amazed by Morgan's quick turn, but then he remembers how lost Morgan was when Garcia left. Her disappearance had been hard on all of the team, but it had probably changed Derek the most. "I'm just getting used to this, to you, and trying my best to help," Reid states. He gives her a small smile and it can't measure up to Derek's broad hopeful one, but it's a start.

A/N: Once again, thank you for reading (especially to those lovely people who left reviews). Before a chapter is posted it gets edited at least five times, so I have endless gratitude for the compliments and feedback.

As Aivee and celticstarwolf both pointed out, we're yet to see some of the team. Fear not, they will all appear in some way or another. While planning this fic I decided that it would be unreasonable to have the whole team together in 2016. As much as I love our amazing seven, I think it would be a bit stagnant for them if nothing had changed over six years. I hope people are pleased with Emily's new position and are looking forward to finding out what everyone has been up to!