Hi Friends!
So I was attacked by a nasty case of writers block. I toiled over this chapter and to be honest I am not completely satisfied with it. If it feels a little bit tortured than you'll know why.
Thank you everyone for reviewing and following the story! I was unable to respond to each of your reviews this time :( My daughter who just turned 5 months old yesterday is still colicky, which leaves me with very little free time. OMG, for all you mothers out there that have had to deal with colicky babies I just want you to know you have my undying respect. It is such a challenge! Don't get me wrong, I love my baby girl! I just wish I could set her down for five minutes without her getting into a screaming fit.
Anyways, I digress...
Please forgive any mistakes.
Enjoy!
Spencer curled his body into the corner of the jet where the couch met the wall. Hotch had just finished leading them through a quick review of the case and told everyone to relax for a bit until they got to Miami. The genius knew right away that he wanted to isolate himself from the others in order to ponder what had occurred over the last few days.
He pulled up his legs and wrapped his arms around them, resting his head against his knees in order to look out the tiny window. He knew that his position would ring alarm bells in the others' heads, if they cared enough to notice, but that was the least of his worries. He just really needed to use this time to sort through his thoughts without interruption.
Unfortunately, before he had even begun his travels through his memories the couch groan under the added weight of one of his teammates.
"Reid?" came Hotch's voice, strong yet soft.
The addressed agent didn't respond, choosing to tighten his arms around his legs instead.
"Reid, I'm not here to talk about earlier. This isn't the most private location and we have plenty of time to discuss the incident later. I just wanted to make sure you were feeling alright."
"I'm fine," came his muffled response. "Just thinking."
"Well then I'll leave you to it," the older agent said as his weight disappeared from the seat.
The profiler didn't acknowledge his boss's departure, instead he steadied his gaze out on the cottony clouds in order to help him get lost in his thoughts.
The first thing that popped into his head was the unexpected confrontation with Garcia on Monday. Sure, he had been noticing her acting strange but he had chalked it up to boyfriend issues. He still couldn't get over the shock of finding out that it was her remorse that was pulling them apart. Why did he always have to be the reason people suffered? Of course he knew that shooting that man had really damaged her psyche; hell, she said her karma was knocked down a few points just from pulling the fire alarm. But he didn't know that just looking at him was bringing back all those negative feelings for her.
It seemed like that was a growing trend lately.
At least he could assuage her torment by staying away like she asked. Like he had said to her on Monday, it was the least he could do.
While the Garcia issue was a surprise, the subsequent confrontation with Morgan was a staggering blow. Had he and his best friend drifted so far apart that Derek thought him capable of upsetting another human being on purpose? If Morgan actually believed that then maybe the man didn't know him as well as Reid had thought he did. Perhaps all those hours the genius had put into cultivating their friendship had been in vain. The man hadn't been paying attention to him all along, just using him to pass the time.
But then, why did Morgan come and apologize later on that day? The darker agent had gone out of his way to take Reid out for a quick dinner and say he was sorry. Derek had explained that he hadn't intended to come off as concerned only for Garcia and that he never meant to blame Reid for her sorrow. He also mentioned that Garcia had told him about what was plaguing her and that he could understand why the genius had been so upset after leaving the tech analyst's lair. Then in typical Morgan style he said he would be there if Reid needed to talk about it. The genius graciously rejected Derek's offer with the promise that he would come to the man if he needed someone to talk to. Since their dinner Monday night the two have had only a few conversations around the office but not much else in the way of interactions.
So what should he do? Does he put his trust in Morgan again and maintain their friendship? Was waiting for Garcia to come around worth his time? Or was it better to let both of them go to the wayside and save himself the pain of them leaving him in the future? In the end he really didn't know what to make of his relationships with his two coworkers.
The profiler shook his head as he turned it away from the window. His big brown eyes swept over the interior of the plane, lingering on each teammate as they wandered. Most of his coworkers were settled around the table, each engrossed in their own activities. Hotch was rifling through the case files and at the moment he was paying particular attention to what looked like a coroner's report. Morgan and JJ were playing gin and based on the cards that Reid could see, Morgan was about to win. Then there was Rossi penning down his theories on the legal pad in front of him. Whatever he was pondering must have been case related because he was only jotting down thoughts after perusing the files that Hotch handed him.
That left Agent West, who had chosen one of the solitary seats at the back of the jet; one that gave him a full perspective of the interior and an unobstructed view of Reid. The man seemed to be using his vantage point to scrutinize the genius to no end. His beady eyes seemed to bore straight through the profiler's skin and down into his soul. The man's obvious inspection left the younger agent feeling raw and exposed, a feeling which he had experienced frequently when dealing with bullies in the past. And he would be damned if he would allow another bully to affect his life.
So, instead of backing down to West's unwavering stare, the profiler decided to meet him head on. He purposefully locked his gaze with the other agent's dark green eyes, sending the man warning messages with his expressive orbs.
Unfortunately the other man didn't back down from the genius's penetrating glare and met him look for look. The battle of wills had commenced and neither agent was prepared to back down. It felt like whomever came out of this war victorious would reign supreme on the team.
Therefore Reid, settling in for the long haul, rested his chin on his knees and wrapped his arms tighter around his body. He could feel his eyes start to water as he had yet to blink them, not wanting to send the other man any signal that could imply weakness. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the other man's fingers clamped on the arms of the chair in a strength that matched the clench of his jaw. West, who seemed just as determined to win this fight, shifted slightly in his seat before he surprised the genius by standing up.
Damien's eyes never broke contact as he stalked down the aisle of the jet, heading toward the profiler who was still perched on the couch. Reid, startled at this turn of events, straightened his back in order to give off a stronger vibe. Was West about to confront him here on the jet, in front of everyone?
The other man's confident stride took him right up to the genius, where he paused for a quick second. The bully's position next to the couch allowed him to tower above Reid and forced the young man to look up to him in order to hold the stare. A sardonic smile erupted on the older agent's face before he continued on his path into the galley.
Reid, uncomfortable with the thought that West was behind him, started to extricate himself from his folded position. He was halfway to planting his feet on the floor when the jet hit an extreme patch of turbulence. The air current bounced the plane like a Ping-Pong ball, pushing the cabin up and down in one sharp burst. The choppy flow caught the lanky youth off guard and sent him tumbling to the floor of the cabin in a jumble of limbs.
The young man's gangly appendages became entangled with each new jostle of the aircraft. He couldn't seem to get up off the floor before another whiff of air moved the plane. Across the cabin his fellow profilers weren't having any better luck. He could hear their cries of surprise and irritation as the four cups of coffee occupying the table spilled all over the place.
Moments later a particularly violent toss of the air sent his body flying forwards, thrusting his head into the supports that kept the couch bolted to the floor. Reid was barely aware of the moan he let out as he brought his hand up to the left side of his head. His nimble digits quickly found a significant scratch that was the source of the blood oozing down his forehead.
It took a few minutes for him to realize that the plane had entered a stable patch of atmosphere once more. Behind him he heard Rossi cursing the fact that his shirt was ruined while the other were trying to save the case files that had been exposed to the caffeinated fluid. Once he became fully satisfied that the plane wasn't going to send him back down to the ground the genius began the process of boosting himself from up off the floor. He had gotten as far as propping his body up on his elbows when a spiteful laugh entered his ears.
"It seems that even Mother Nature is trying to put you in your place," came Damien's biting remark.
Slightly confused due to the head wound, Reid looked up at the other man through bleary eyes. "What?"
"The ground. You're right where you belong. I'd offer you a hand but I rather like having you in a position beneath me," the man taunted while walking past the agent sprawled out on the floor.
Reid opened his mouth intent retaliation when Derek's voice cut through the cabin, "Yo, pretty boy, are you alright?"
Snapping his jaw closed, the profiler gave a simple nod.
Morgan left the other agents to clean up the spill and made his way over to his friend, "Here, let me help you up."
Reid stared at the muscular man's proffered hand before shifting his weight around in order to get up off the floor unassisted.
"Don't worry about me, I'm fine. Go help the others."
Derek, slightly hurt at his help being shunned, retorted, "If you're so fine than why is there a ruby river flowing down the side of your head?"
The genius, having forgotten about his injury, touched the cut again. "I…uh…I hit my head on the foot of the couch."
"I can see that. Here, come on and let me help you."
Ever reluctant to accept any aid, even if it was from a so-called friend, Reid shook his head, "I've got it."
"Nah man, I insist. Anyways the seatbelt light just came on, a little late I might add. Let me grab the first aid kit while you buckle up. We're about to land and we can't have you walking into the police station a bloody mess."
"Fine," Reid acquiesced halfheartedly, plopping down on the couch. The pilot came over the PA and announced their descent as Derek came back with the supplies.
"Turn your head for me," the man ordered as he started dabbing at the cut.
Spencer turned his neck obediently and stared down to the other end of the cabin, right into the laughing eyes of Damien West.
After the jet touched down the profilers dispersed to their assigned locations, intent on catching the unsub before he could kill again. Unfortunately, that meant Reid had to go with JJ and West to the police precinct and endure the most awkward car ride of his life. The silence in the vehicle was stifling as the two men did their best to ignore each other. Eventually it became too much for JJ to handle and she started trying to make small talk with them both.
"How's your head, Spence?"
"It's fine."
"That's good. I can't believe how violent the turbulence was on the way here. I'm going to look into inventing a turbulence proof coffee mug. That way I'll never have to experience another one of Rossi's fits when his designer clothes get ruined," she said with a forced laugh. Neither one of the men commented on her remark so the car fell back into oppressive silence once again.
When the trio arrived at the station JJ took charge of the introductions, falling back on her old habits as the media liaison of the team. They were quickly escorted to a small conference room that had already been set up with maps, supplies and any new information the detectives had garnered from their investigation.
Reid made a beeline for the map and started sticking in pushpins at various locations connected to the case. He had color coordinated the tacks, red for dump sites and blue for last known locations. From there he started making correlations connected to the data points.
While the genius was engrossed with his job, JJ and West started putting together the board and discussing vicitmology. The victims' families were set to be there within the hour and the two wanted to be fully prepared to interview them.
The tension from the car ride disappeared over the next few hours. The rival agents were both focused on the case and kept any necessary interactions professional. From the outside looking in, it would seem like everything was copasetic, only the two men knew any different.
Eventually the rest of the team made their way back to the station to reconvene and sort through any new information. Morgan and Rossi were only able to add that the dump sites locations were filthy. They felt that the unsub was showing the world that the women were pieces of garbage, totally useless and unwanted in the world. Hotch found that each of the women disappeared while they were running wedding errands. Chloe Burt had been picking up the last of her centerpieces, Kylee May was leaving was finalizing her reception details, and Hannah Sabuda had just paid the DJ.
"It seems like the unsub is purposefully taking them while they are putting the finishing touches on their wedding," Hotch explained.
"Well it's obvious he doesn't think these women are worthy of getting married," JJ observed. "I mean, he took them all a few days before their ceremonies and dumps their tortured bodies in the seedy back alleys of Miami."
"So, is the unsub acting out because his own fiancée deceived him? Did his wife-to-be leave him at the altar? Was she cheating on him? Is he enacting his revenge on other woman who he perceives as being disloyal to their future husbands?" Morgan posed to the team.
Reid suddenly piped up, "Did you guys find any connection between the brides, JJ?"
"Well –"
"No, there weren't any distinguishable connections besides the fact that they were all days away from getting married," West interjected before she could answer. "They had booked different churches, reception locations, DJs, limo services, etc. None of the details of their weddings were even remotely close. Chloe was having a country western themed reception while Hannah was going traditional."
"We have to be missing a connection somewhere. How is he picking out the brides? How does he know when each one of them is getting married? You can't just call up a reception hall and ask them the details of who booked the room. There has to be something these women have in common," Rossi postulated.
JJ straightened up quickly, "You know what, tons of brides go to those wedding expos. There are always booths there to win prizes like honeymoons or free photography. Maybe they all filled out forms at the unsub's booth. I'll have Garcia look into it."
"How could he possibly know whether or not they attended an expo?"
"You have to buy tickets to get in and I'm sure they all got caught up in filling out forms. There is no way they all walked out of there without signing up for something," JJ said.
"Okay, JJ call Garcia and give her the parameters for the search. The rest of us will keep rifling through the files. We not only need to figure out how he gets information about the brides but also how he decides whether or not they're unfaithful," Hotch ordered.
JJ got up and left the room to talk to the tech analyst in a quieter environment. The rest of the team got back to work, searching feverishly for a clue.
Sadly, their investigation was short lived due to the local police chief coming in an announcing that another woman had gone missing. Chief Willis quickly relayed all the known information about the woman, Megan Johnson, and supplied the profilers with the contact information for her family.
"Alright, I was hoping that we were called in with enough time to stop another abduction, but it looks like I was wrong. Rossi, Morgan, you two come with me to interview the family and inspect the abduction site. The rest of you stay here and keep working all angles. We need to act fast, because if we go by his priors Megan only has two days," the unit chief announced grimly as he got up and left with the other profilers.
Reid, used to being left behind, moved back to his map to plot the new data point. He was busy triangulating what he thought might prove to be the unsub's comfort zone that he barely paid any attention to JJ's conversation with West.
"What else do brides do to prepare for their weddings?"
JJ just shook her head, "Don't ask me. My wedding was a surprise. Rossi planned it all behind my back. I was lucky and dodged all the drama that comes with planning the perfect ceremony. I didn't even get a bachelorette party, Garcia and Prentiss took me out a few weeks later for a belated one."
"What?"
"Yeah, they took me out clubbing and tricked me into going to a strip club called the Lumberyard," she laughed, shuffling through the files.
Damien started to vigorously comb through the files, ignoring the rest of JJ's story. "Do we know if the victims had bachelorette parties?"
JJ crinkled her brow, "I don't think so."
"We need to find out, now!"
"Why? What are you thinking," Reid asked out of nowhere, turning his concentration away from the map.
"If you would just think about it, you'd understand," West said scathingly. "Haven't you ever been to a club on a Friday or Saturday night? They are usual crawling with bachelorettes and their entourages of loud wild women."
JJ's eyes went wide with comprehension, "Ohhhh, that could be where he's finding the victims."
"What? How?" Spencer asked obliviously.
Damien scoffed, "Seriously?"
"Spence doesn't go clubbing," JJ explained to West. She then turned to the genius and said, "Women participating in a bachelorette party usually act crazier than normal, especially the bride. It's not uncommon for the bride's friends to get her insanely wasted and dare her to complete different challenges."
"What types of challenges?"
"Well, they usual deal with flirting and interacting with the men at the club. I once dared my friend to get a guy to give her his boxers. And another friend of mine had to kiss 10 random strangers."
"So basically – "
"So basically women tend to go out and act like whores for one final night before they are no longer single," West cut in, clearly frustrated with Reid's ignorance on the subject.
"That's a bit harsher than I would put it," JJ countered, frowning at the new agent.
"Am I wrong?"
"N-no…I guess not," she conceded.
"Moving on. The unsub must be witnessing the brides acting wild at the clubs and taking that as a sign that she is unfaithful to her fiancée."
"But how does he get the intimate details about her and the wedding?" JJ asked.
"I don't know, I haven't figured that part out yet," Damien admitted. "Look, I'm going to go call all the families and find out if the brides had a party in the first place. We can worry about the rest of the details later."
The two profilers watched as the man marched out of the room.
"Spence, you've worked across from him all week…is he always so intense?"
Reid cleared his throat and tried to avoid the question, "He's just excited to have a potential lead."
"I guess…he just better not let Hotch see him act like that."
"Yeah," was all Reid said as he turned his focus back to the board.
Awhile later West rushed back in the room and shoved a sheet of paper in the genius's face. "Here are all the addresses of the clubs the brides visited for their bachelorette parties. Some of the girls went to multiple locations, and only two of the clubs were visited by more than one bride."
Wordlessly, Reid glanced down at the paper, memorizing the addresses before setting it down on the table. Then he started to tack up the new locations, using yellow pins this time.
Once he was finished he stepped back to view the resulting hunting zone, "So they all went to clubs on the west side of the city…strange."
"What is?" came Morgan's voice from behind him.
Startled, Reid turned around, "You guys are back already?"
"Already? We've been gone for two hours."
The lanky profiler glanced down at his watch and realized that he had been working the geographic profile for longer than he thought.
"So what is strange?" asked Rossi as he sat down at the table with the rest of the profilers.
"Well, all of the activity has been focused on the southeast side of Miami and the surrounding suburbs. The location of the clubs don't fit into that pattern. It throws off the whole profile and doubles the size of his comfort zone."
"So, we're still missing something," Morgan deduced.
"Yeah…something seems off to me," Damien muttered, getting up from the table to inspect Reid's work.
"Like what?"
Agent West furrowed his brow as he pointed to one of the yellow flags on the map, "Did you place these according to the addresses I gave you?"
Taken aback, Reid raised his eyebrow, "Yes."
"Are you sure? Because I don't remember writing an address for a club on Church Street."
"What? Are you accusing me of making the addresses up?"
"No, I'm alleging that you got them wrong," Damien said with scrutiny.
Reid spun around to the table and started searching through the loose papers on the table. "I put them exactly where you told me."
"Reid? What are you doing?" Hotch ventured as he watched the genius frantically flinging white sheets everywhere.
"He wrote all the addresses on a piece of paper. I put it on the table after I memorized them. It's got to be around here somewhere," he said desperately, unaware of the looks of concern the other profilers were sending his way.
"Look Reid, it's not important right now. Just double check the address and fix them if you need to," Hotch said firmly, trying to refocus the agent.
"But…Ah ha! Here it is," he exclaimed, holding the paper up in triumph.
Damien grabbed the small sheet of lined paper and read it. He then handed it to Hotch with a smug look of joy.
Hotch briefly glanced at the document and handed it back to the younger agent, "Correct the pins and outline the new comfort zone."
Utter confusion painted Reid's face as he looked down at the sheet. There, on the bold blue lines, were completely different locations than the ones he tacked onto the board. "I…I don't understand. These aren't the same addresses as before. Hotch –"
"Reid, we will look into it later. Right now we all need to concentrate on the case and find Megan Johnson," the stoic man said refocusing the frenzied agent and his spectating coworkers.
"Right…," he said, scrubbing his hands against his eyes in an effort to clear his head.
As he turned back to fix the board, he crumpled up the piece of paper and stuck it in his pocket. He knew that Agent West had purposefully messed with his geographical profile, he just needed to prove it.
So many of you have commented on the fact that Damien shouldn't be able to get away with his poor attitude and treacherous ways around our favorite profilers...but honestly that's the whole point of this story. The team members are so wrapped up in their own lives right now that they aren't seeing the forest for the trees and Reid feels like he needs to take care of business on his own. But, don't go assuming that everyone is ignorant to what is happening...they just haven't said anything yet. There were two scenes that were supposed to be included in this chapter that didn't make it, but wait till next time and you'll see that the team isn't as oblivious as they seem.
Take care!