AN: This chapter has been successfully edited! Any and all translations will always be located at the end of the chapter.
"It didn't matter that she fell apart,
it was how she put herself back together."
-Atticus
Chapter 2: Extreme Aggressor
Ariadne POV:
I didn't have to wait long before Derek pulled up, something I was immensely grateful for. It was fucking cold as shit out here. I quickly ran to the passenger's side and got in, relishing the hot air that blew out of the vents. "So what's the plan for this one?" I asked turning to look at my amused brother.
"Well Hotch called, turns out they've decided it's time for Gideon to come back." Derek pulled away from my apartment and briefly glanced at me, "We're gonna meet Hotch at the college before we head to the tarmac."
I wasn't surprised, Gideon may have been placed on leave but he was far too valuable for the FBI to give him up entirely. It was really just a matter of when he was coming back and not if. To be honest I was a bit surprised that he had been absent for as long as he had.
I mean I get it, given the circumstances of the situation it was natural for anyone to feel a bit responsible. The problem was that Gideon had always been one to shoulder guilt, whether it was his or someone else's, like it was some kind of contest.
I knew that it would fall to me to ensure that he would be able to continue doing his job properly. The rest of the team would say he was fine, but as much as I liked Gideon, I wouldn't lie about his mental state. If he had another break down in the field he could compromise the safety of everyone else.
That was a chance I wasn't willing to take.
It wasn't too long of a drive to get to the college, and I spent most of the time thinking about how the team dynamic was going to work with Gideon back, as well as trying to tune out the sound of Derek's obnoxious humming along to the radio.
I'm not really much of a morning person, preferring to spend the time under my covers trying to make up for the lack of sleep I get throughout the night, so Derek's level of energy at this time simply astounded me. Over the past year it became abundantly clear that the entire team had become accustomed to early mornings, I was the only one who hadn't gotten on that train.
The way I see it; if the sun hasn't bothered to get its ass up in the sky, then why the fuck would I leave the comforts of my warm bed?
Hotch was already in the parking lot when we arrived, and stepped out of his car dressed to the nines when we pulled in next to him. Bracing myself for the sub arctic temperatures that awaited me, I slid out of the car, and almost instantly regretted it the second the cold wind whipped across my face.
I tried to use Derek's body as a shield against the cold. It was only fair that I exercise my younger sibling rights and use his tall stature to my advantage. Hotch on the other hand apparently didn't have any sensors in his entire body, because not once did his expression change once the freezing air around us hit him. "Sup boss man, what do we have this time?" I was rubbing my hands up and down my arms, trying to create a bit of friction.
Boss man was my unique nickname for Hotch. Sure he pretended not to be too fond of it, but I had seen the upturn of his lips on occasion, so he couldn't hate it all too much. I had a very specific name for each member in my contacts, same thing I had done with my old team.
The importance of anonymity was drilled into us at the start of training. If we were not in a secure location we didn't refer to each other by our given names, the consequences of anyone overhearing them was far too high. Maybe that helped to make what we did a little easier.
Everything we were, everything we did, fell onto the shoulders of a different identity.
Then again maybe that was nothing more than the guilt talking.
Derek was listed under big brother, that was the one thing I couldn't bring myself to change. That's who he was, who he would always be, there was no other possible thing I could call him. He was my big brother, my safe house, my goddamn hero.
But still I couldn't silence the nagging voice that whispered all the ways they could be hurt if someone used my phone for information. So I switched it up, ensuring that I was the only one who could decipher it.
"I'll explain once we have everyone." And with that, Hotch turned and made his way to the entrance of the college, knowing we'd fall in step behind him. He was a pretty big fan of short answers, and he was intimidating enough to get away with it.
Eager to get out of this disgusting weather, the two of us made long strides to get into the warmer building. I guess whatever classroom Gideon had been using was close by because after just a few minutes of walking I could hear his voice from behind one of the doors.
Without knocking, Hotch walked right on into the room, "You're gonna be with us in Seattle asap." I had to hand it to him, he sure knew how to make an entrance.
I saw Spencer hanging back to my left and sidled up to him, "What's up buttercup?" I grinned up at him through my stage whisper and couldn't help the flutter in my heart when a smile graced his features.
So I may have a small crush on the man.
Sue me.
I wasn't like I looked into his eyes the first moment we met and fell in love or anything. It crept up on me slowly. At first he was nothing more than a colleague who I thought was a touch out of place in the BAU. He seemed far too innocent to surround himself with this level of violence all the time. But he quickly proved me wrong, his actions revealing a maturity few our age were capable of.
The more I treated him like a qualified teammate, the more he opened up. We became friends because of shared experience, his past contained more demons than I thought.
I guess one day, a very normal day I might add, I was just sitting around and listening to him explain the works of one of his favorite authors when it hit me. It was the little things about him that got to me, which is why it took so long for me to realize I was slowly falling for him.
The way his eyes would light up when he got to share some obscure fact with everyone. If you looked real closely you could see golden rays encase those brown irises the more excited he became.
How he would fidget with his hands whenever he was remotely uncomfortable, twisting his digits into some sort of pattern that only he could see.
The strands of his unruly hair often falling down just close enough to brush up against the tips of his eyelashes whenever he moved too quickly.
When he was so happy that he couldn't help but laugh, his lopsided grin would make his right dimple just a tad deeper than the left.
That's how I knew I was falling for him.
Because I noticed the little things. I learned all about the things that seemed so insignificant in nature that they were often easily overlooked. Things I had only ever bothered to know about Maria and Derek.
And I hated it. I hated how my heart could open up and let someone else in when it knew full well how deep the pain of loss could run. But once you notice those little things, you can't just forget about them, that's not how it works.
If it was then I would have long forgotten the way Lilly could bandage the worst of our wounds, broken bones and gunshot wounds galore, but would freak out whenever she got the smallest of paper cuts. I wouldn't remember how proudly Tara bore her stretch marks, satisfied that her body had the ability to conform in order to fit the needs of her growing children. The sound of Darcie's voice, how it would get deeper and raspier the more passionate she got, would have faded from my memory. And I was forever haunted by the scar at the base of Maria's jaw, how she would lightly touch it to remind herself of how far she had come since childhood.
How I desperately wished my heart could forget all those things.
"It's good to see you too Ari." Spencer spared me one last soft look before he turned to listen in on the conversation taking place in front of us. I let my gaze linger on him for a moment, once again wanting to bash myself over the head for the timing of my inconvenient feelings.
"For heaven's sake, catch me before I kill more. I cannot control myself."
I was able to catch the ladder half of Gideon reading off the unsub's words from the paper Hotch gave him. I couldn't help but roll my eyes though. I hated when there was some bullshit excuse about their lack of control, like somehow the rest of us were supposed to understand and feel some sort of pity for them.
Taking a life was a conscious decision, something well within our power. The excuse of not being able to control yourself is nothing more than a cop out. Each time I pulled the trigger, I knew exactly what I was about to do.
Hotch went on to explain the details to us; that the unsub didn't keep women for more than seven days, so unfortunately we only had thirty-six hours left to find our victim. It wasn't a lot of time, but I had seen this team work with less and still pull it off, so I was still pretty confident.
Despite my optimism, Derek wasn't quite as trusting of Gideon as I was. "Looks like they want you back in the saddle, you ready?" I knew that although Derek held a great amount of respect for our team leader, seeing him go through a mental breakdown had diminished a large portion of the faith he had in his abilities.
I would be lying if I said I wasn't slightly concerned he might go off the rails once more. But then again we'd never know if he was better if we never gave him the chance to prove himself. Plus it didn't hurt that Gideon had never been one to judge my performance due to my young age.
"You sure they want me?" Perhaps Derek and I weren't as subtle with our reservations as we thought, because Gideon's face was lined with apprehension. It wasn't a look I was familiar with when it came to our unit chief.
Hotch was quick to assuage his fears, "The order came from the director." That may have been true, but Hotch forgot to mention the part where Gideon was to be placed under watch, with a report attached to all his cases to ensure he wasn't going to have another breakdown.
But the details were neither here nor there.
Despite what he had gone through, all the things he had seen over the years, that spark of adventure still came alive in his eyes, "Then we better get started." I never understood how he could still willingly be here after the horrors he had witnessed. After just a year I was so over this whole serial killer thing. I didn't want to see this shit for the rest of my life.
The only reason I was still here was because of Derek.
Spencer looked equally as excited that Gideon was coming back, and for good reason. He was a father figure to Spencer, which is why he could be found here in this college instead of in the bullpen with the rest of us.
It had only been a couple months ago that Spencer confided in me about his home life. How his mother became too sick for him to deal with and how he had to make the hard decision to place her in a care facility. I had been honored he trusted me enough with something so personal, but then he told me about his father and that was the moment I realized just how much trust he put in me.
It was pretty common knowledge that my father was a subject to avoid. Derek and I had enough hushed arguments about the man that by now his name was never brought up in conversation.
My brother and I would never come to an agreement about Hank Morgan. He was Derek's idol, the person he aspired to be. My siblings got him at his best, and all I got were empty promises and a nice view of his back.
Derek would never understand the echoing loneliness that rattled against my bones every time father's day rolled around and I had no one to give a card to. Or how my eyes would burn with unshed tears when I was greeted with the dial tone to a number that never connected when I called.
Hank Morgan had abandoned me, cast me aside because I was nothing more than a reminder of his greatest mistake. So when Spencer told me that his father had walked out on him and his mother, I couldn't help but feel all the more connected to him.
It was hard to describe abandonment, especially when it comes from a parent. It's such a deep-rooted pain and not many can understand it. There's a hole in you, and nothing you do ever fills it.
There are times when I think maybe I just wasn't meant to have a father. And maybe my father wasn't meant to have a fourth child.
I have to physically shove those thoughts back into a box before I begin to get lost in those emotions once again. I deal with enough demons at night, I shouldn't have to face them in the light of day.
The rest of us stepped outside the room while Gideon gathered his things, assuming he had his go bag here with him. Even though I had pushed the toxic thoughts from my head, the feelings they dredged up sill lingered. My father was my weakest point, without a doubt it was the one thing that could make me downright volatile at the drop of a hat.
I hated how angry a dead man could still make me.
Trying to play it off as though I were simply cold, I snuggled up to Derek, latching my arms around his waist and laying my head against his heart. It wasn't uncommon for me to be affectionate with my brother, the others had come to understand this about me. I may have been hardened by the things I did in my service, but I couldn't stop that age old need to gather comfort from my big brother when something was wrong.
Typically Derek didn't think much about me becoming a human monkey around him, but I suppose that due to my earlier nightmare he was a little more perceptive than normal. He wrapped his arm around my back and pulled me in closer, ignoring the brief looks from both Hotch and Spencer, before he leaned down to plant a kiss on my forehead.
This is typically the reason siblings aren't allowed to work together. People think that the emotional attachment to one another will hinder their work, allowing them to become vulnerable. Clearly someone without siblings created that rule. Because contrary to what they think, it doesn't make us weak, it gives us something to fight for.
"You don't have to tell me what's going on, but I'll always be here for you sweetheart. Don't ever forget that." His voice was quiet, ensuring that only the two of us could hear and I was grateful for it. I had the strong desire to cry, because certainly I didn't deserve my brother, didn't deserve the endless love and patience he gave me.
I tightened my grip on his shirt, feeling my nails dig into the material. This is who I was protecting, who I'd give up everything for without a second thought.
I could light this goddamn world on fire, but I would never let a flame touch him or my sisters.
When we finally arrive at the tarmac everyone gets out and begins to make their way towards the jet. I notice that Gideon is pretty far ahead of us all, and for that I don't blame him one bit. The weather hadn't let up in the slightest so it was still a modern day ice age out here. Jogging to reach Gideon had an upside and a downside. On one hand I was getting to the warm jet faster, but I was also getting slapped with the cold a lot faster as well. But there was no way in seven hells that I was going to stay out in the cold any longer than I absolutely had to.
The blast of hot air that enveloped me as I stepped on the jet felt a little like what I'm sure heaven must be like. I tried to relish the feeling when the back of my calves were nipped with the cold. Turning, I noticed that Spencer was waiting for Hotch along the stairs.
Oh no, this would not do at all. Leaning my head past his, I yelled out, "Aye yo Hotch! It's freezing, hurry it up!"
Not only is it early as fuck, but Santa came early and brought his dumbass Northern weather with him. I was hoping to catch a few more hours of sleep on the ride, and was so not in the mood for anyone to get in the way of that.
I plopped myself into one of the seats on the plane towards the back where it was the warmest. These days it seemed like the only time I could find some real sleep was when I was on this jet. Here I didn't have to constantly watch the team, because really how much trouble could they get into while up in the air? The only downside was that this was typically when they debriefed. So occasionally I would have to pretend that I was paying attention, since I was supposed to be a junior profiler and all that.
I think Derek might have told them about my sleeping patterns because whenever I did fall asleep, not one of them ever tried to wake me up or scold me for sleeping in the first place. The only reason I could think as to why they didn't was that Derek had told them that I really don't get to sleep anytime else.
It also wouldn't surprise me if one of them had tried only to have Derek block their path. I may have been overprotective of my brother, but I almost had nothing on the levels he could reach when it came down to Sarah, Desiree, or I.
Also, not to brag or anything, but I'm pretty fucking adorable. I've seen some of the pictures that my siblings have snuck while I was sleeping, and I have to say; I wouldn't wake me up either.
One of the things I have learned about my team, much to my chagrin, was that often times they are so focused on finding the unsub and saving the next victim that their own safety was pushed to the backburner.
It was shit like that which made the director even consider hiring me in the first place. I was put in charge of protecting a group of people who would willingly put themselves in front of a bullet for a stranger.
I wasn't complaining that they were good people or anything, I'm just pissed that they don't understand the value of their own lives. If they get killed who else is gonna find the scum of the earth?
Once the jet took off everyone decided to gather around where I was sitting in order to debrief, Spencer taking the seat beside me. Apparently it was too much to ask that they let me have a peaceful rest, because without further ado Spencer went straight into the background of the previous murders. "His first victim was twenty-six year old Melissa Kirsh. Stab wounds, strangulation-"
I did a double take while Derek chose to interrupt, "Wait, wait. Back up, back up. He stabbed her… and then strangled her to finish her off?" A valid question in my opinion. I mean wouldn't that just be more effort for the unsub? You'd think that they would pick one way and be consistent with it. That's the whole point of an M.O.
"Other way around," Gideon is the one who answers. "Why do you think he started using the belt with the second murder?"
Hold up, now I'm more confused. The unsub strangled her to death, and then stabbed her? What the hell was the purpose of that? She was already dead after being strangled.
I stop myself from asking the question, because if I was being honest with myself, I really didn't want to know.
I could feel my eyelids grow heavy as the conversation continues around me. I couldn't stop my head from falling against Spencer's shoulder as sleep took hold of me. The last thing I hear before I fade out was entirely unpleasant.
"He's learning, perfecting his scenario. Becoming a better killer."
I was able to sleep peacefully throughout the rest of the flight, apparently neither Spencer or I moved because once I woke up to his nudging, I realized we were in the exact spot we had been when I drifted off.
I was a weird sleeper. At times I could wake up at the slightest of noises, I could thank the trauma for that one, and other times it could take Derek five minutes to try and wake me from a nightmare. I still remember the hard days when Major Cole would burst into the bunks at any given hour and make us run laps to ensure that we could wake up alert and focused at all times.
I didn't like it then and I don't like it now.
"Ari, we're here. It's time to get to work." He kept his voice quiet, I figure he thinks I'm still in the process of waking up, but as soon as he started to move, I was up.
I stood and smiled down at him, "Thank for being my pillow Spence."
I may have had a giant crush on the guy, but that wouldn't stop me from being a good friend to him. Spencer deserved to have a true friend, not just someone who was close to him in hopes of it going anywhere, and that's what I was determined to be.
I'd rather be a true friend than not be in his life at all.
"What are best friends for?" He grins before standing as well, "C'mon we gotta go." I follow him and the rest of the team off the jet and into the car that was waiting on the tarmac for us. On the drive to the local FBI station I thought about how I was going to divide my time watching each member. It was hard to do when they liked splitting up so damn much. I'd gotten a little leeway with Gideon being gone, but now that he's back it just means there's one more person I have to keep my eye on.
Typically I end up going with the one who has the least amount of backup, which is sometimes hard for me if it's not Derek. But I know that my job is to technically watch out for all of them and if I don't do that properly, then I'm no longer needed.
Things do get a little dicey when I have to come up with an excuse as to why I want to go with certain members, often times I chalk it up to the fact that I could learn a certain thing in the moment with different members. Hotch took the longest to convince that I might be good partner for him. And it wasn't until he saw with his own two eyes that I could actually hold my own, that he even considered letting me call myself his backup.
Soon enough we pull up to the FBI field office in Seattle. We all get out of the cars and head inside where we have to go through baggage check to enter. Occasionally it'll take a while, which can be annoying, but I know that it's for the safety of not only myself but also for every other agent in the building, including my team.
I was taking the lead in the back when Derek decided he had enough of silently observing Gideon, and instead wanted to share his findings. "He never stands with his back to a window. When I was between him and a doorway, he asked me to move."
I couldn't exactly fault him for those attributes, those were pretty basic symptoms for people who had gone through some form of trauma. It wasn't uncommon for me to display my own symptoms, although I tried my best to keep them discreet.
If I drew too much attention to them then Derek might just realize that I've had them since before I enlisted. The last thing I needed was him realizing what went on in that house while Joey was around. I didn't need anyone knowing just how damaged I am. It's bad enough that my mother still remembers and tries to talk about it whenever I call or visit.
"That's hyper vigilance. It's not uncommon in post-traumatic stress disorder."
Another reason I don't want anyone knowing. Their profilers, it's their job to look into things as deep as they go. I don't need Spencer or anyone else looking at me like I'm a puzzle they need to solve.
"Just how much disorder are we talking about?" Derek scoffs and fires back. Almost as if he's been hit over the head, he turns to look at me with an apology written in his eyes. I know he wasn't talking about me and even if he was, there was nothing for forgive. I'm a big girl, I can handle the knowledge that I'm not normal, Derek shouldn't feel bad because he thinks he's reminding me of that.
I reach forward and squeeze his hand, assuring him that all is well.
His look of contrite will always haunt me. He tries his best to shoulder my pain, even going as far as trying to take the blame for how I feel about our father, which isn't his fault in the slightest. He's a good person my brother. Far too good for this world.
I plaster a bright smile to my lips, one that grips my throat in a hollow fist, and continue to walk with my head held high.
The past could kiss my ass.
Once we entered the room where we would be setting up, it wasn't hard to miss the complete disorganization that could make a lesser man weep. I mean really, it was like an overcrowded pig pen. While I stood marveling at how they were able to get any work done in these conditions, Hotch remained unfazed, "This is Special Agent Gideon. Special Agent Morgan, our expert on obsessional crimes. Special Agent Reid…"
At that Gideon interjected, "Doctor Reid." I had to give it to him, Spencer had worked way too hard not to be recognized by his official title.
Instead of letting it throw him off, Hotch simply corrected himself and carried on. "Dr. Reid, our expert on, well, everything. This is the other Special Agent Morgan, our junior profiler. And after two years busting my butt in this office, I hope you remember me." That gathered a laugh from the other agents.
We all spread out to the different stations that had been set up. Gideon made his way over to the maps while Spencer chose to migrate towards a board littered with paperwork. Once again I chose to stick by Derek's side and tried to look busy while he took in information. I really only needed to know where the team was at all times, but sometimes the guys would give me lessons about things like geological profiling, which wasn't all that bad. I definitely knew how to read a map.
Derek, Spencer, and Hotch all started debating about the kind of car the unsub was driving, something about how Jeeps were masculine. I had to roll my eyes, I don't think I'll ever understand how the male species works.
Gideon wandered over sometimes during the discussion and put his two cents in, "And we all know how an unsub feels about asserting his masculinity."
Cue another eye roll.
I chose to lean up against the edge of one of the tables while Hotch went on to ask a plethora of questions. I honestly wasn't feeling up to the whole 'let's pretend I know what the fuck I'm doing' game at the moment. This wasn't my forte at all.
Put a gun in my hands and give me a target and I'm your girl. But if you hand me a bunch of crime scene photographs and tell me to predict the unsub's next move, I won't be able to do it.
However I can hear the irritation that lines my brother's voice when he speaks to Gideon. "An accurate profile by four today?"
Derek hated being rushed, knowing it would make them more susceptible to making mistakes.
I suppose that Gideon was one hundred percent ready to step back into his shoes because he was as confident as ever. "That's not a problem," he says as he heads over to the board I was hanging around.
"Ariadne, where do you think we should start?" Hotch turned to look at me. I fucking hated when they did this, when that junior profiling seemed to kick in and they asked me a buttload of questions to make sure I was learning shit.
I never let the brief panic show on my face though. The last thing I wanted them to think was that I couldn't handle this, too many questions could come up if that was the case.
I turned to look at the board that Gideon had spent so much time studying. Thank god I was perceptive. I pointed to the picture he had spent the longest looking at, "The site of the last murder."
I must have gotten something right because Hotch nodded at me, a bigger fucking deal than most people thought, and both Derek and Spencer looked at me encouragingly.
I hid my clenched teeth behind a closed mouth smile and wondered if they'd be as proud of me when they realized I had successfully been lying to their faces for a year.
Would Derek's eyes still shine bright when he discovered just how much I had hidden from him?
Derek and Gideon went to the recent crime scene with one of the local officers, while I made my way with Spencer and Hotch. In no way was I saying that Spencer was the weakest link between us, but he wasn't licensed to carry. And that put a serious damper on where he could and couldn't go.
So unless he had been elected to stay back at the temporary base and work from there, I could usually be found at his and Derek's side. I doubt Hotch or Gideon understood the fear that would shoot through me whenever they tried to send the two of them alone.
Spencer was great and all, but if they got caught in a shootout, he would be no help. And I wasn't about to place my brother in that kind of situation.
Hotch, Spencer and I were headed to our missing person, Heather's, house. As soon as we walked in the door, I noticed a dog. And because I have almost no impulse control, I immediately got down to her level and started to pet her. Dogs in my opinion, besides cats, are the most adorable things on the planet. There is something so pure and good about them that just warms my chest.
Although from the look on Spencer's face he doesn't seem to share the same sentiment. The dog started barking at him and in turn he clutched his things closer to his chest like a frightened damsel in distress. I just continue to pet and shush the dog, telling her that everything was just fine.
"Sandy, no, no, no. I'm so sorry." There was a redheaded man that spoke as he moved towards us.
"No, it's okay. It's what we call the Reid effect. It uh, happens with children too."
So Hotch does have a sense of humor. Who would have thought?
He goes on to introduce the rest of us, seeing as how we had just walked into the place, and as expected the mention of the fact that Spencer is a doctor causes the man to tilt his head and search Spencer's face. "You look too young to have gone to medical school."
I'm no longer surprised by the confusion. Before I really got to know Spencer and how his mind worked, I had been lost as hell as to how he was a couple years older than me and yet still managed to become a doctor.
"They're Ph.D.'s. three of them," Spencer sheepishly explains.
As if on cue the man's eyebrows hit his hairline. "Are you a genius or something?"
"I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified. But I do have an IQ of one eighty-seven, an eidetic memory, and can read twenty thousand words per minute." The response is rushed and he stumbles over a few words, but I'm proud of him none the less. I know it's not always easy for him, talking to people, due to difficult it is for him to pick up on social cues.
There is a brief lapse of silence where it seemed like no one quite knew what to say. But I was an unapologetically loud person, so I just went for it, "So yes, he is certainly classified as a genius."
I was awarded with a side grin from the genius himself. I felt like such a fucking middle schooler by the way I felt my cheeks heat up in response to his attention. I'd never been one to really need or want someone's attention who wasn't my family, I thought that meant I had fortunately skipped the girly preteen stage, but here it was ready to bite me in the ass.
I wandered over to the window while Hotch and Spencer continued asking the man about Heather. Since I was now successfully out of their sight, I was able to pull out my phone in order to check the GPS I had installed on Derek's phone.
When the director said I could do anything I deemed necessary to watch over them, he wasn't kidding. I only had to voice my concerns about needing to find a way to keep track of the ones I wasn't currently with once before he was giving me a handful of small chips. Once activated, I would receive a signal through a program on my phone that I could track from anywhere in the world.
The director and I ran off of a trust system. For instance he didn't try to pry into the classified details of my service, not that he could have, and I didn't ask how or where the tracking chips came from. It was a mutually beneficial system for the two of us.
It really shockingly easy to attach that little chip in the backs of their batteries in their phones. I snagged Derek's while he was over at my house and I got the rest of them while they were busy with their physical evals.
Six dots for six different people. Some may view it as a breach of privacy, but I only used it to ensure that they would never be lost. It had definitely come in handy a few times whenever one of them decided to go off on their own and be a hero.
There was always a rush of relief whenever I saw that Derek's dot was in the same place he said he'd be. He didn't often go somewhere without telling me, but anything could happen and sometimes things on this job moved way too fast.
My attention was pulled from my phone when Hotch's voice reached me. "Ariadne we got something. Tell Gideon and Morgan to meet us back at the base." I nod to let him know I heard him before shooting Derek a text to let him know we found something and would be seeing him soon.
"Okay, then how about the fact that on one hand, we have paranoid psychosis, but the autopsy protocol says what?"
You would have to be deaf to miss the agitation in Derek's voice as he walked around repeatedly throwing a baseball into the air. The rest of us weren't doing much better either. I mean Spencer was spinning around in his chair and I was trying to balance a pencil between my upper lip and nose.
It was fair to say that I was bored out of my goddamn mind.
"Adhesive residue shows he put layer after layer of duct tape over his victims' eyes."
Spencer's words didn't paint a pretty picture and I was really wasn't in the mood to imagine what that looked like.
"He knows he wants to kill them, but he still covers their eyes like a blindfold. He doesn't want them looking at him apparently. But then he takes the body and dumps it right out in the open, murder weapon nearby." Derek's voice steadily rose with unchecked aggression the more he spoke.
That little box of memories I shoved to the corners of my mind kept trying to open at the word 'blindfold', and I would've rather stabbed myself through the hand with this pencil than open up that shit show.
Knowing that I was expected to chime in, I did my best to throw something out there. "Maybe he's deformed in some way, doesn't want his victims to see him. He could be more self-conscious than paranoid."
Spencer nods along, "Yeah, because it's really not the M.O. of a paranoid convinced he's being watched or surveilled."
None of this appeased my brother's growing frustration, "Paranoid psychosis, but behavior that's not paranoid." At this point even I looked up at him, normally he wasn't this short with people.
"Maybe he's schizophrenic," Hotch tried to pitch in. I didn't think it was a good idea, once Derek's in a mood not much can get him out of it.
"Maybe we just don't have enough for a complete profile," Derek finally spits out angrily. Ah, there it is. That's what's bugging him. Gideon telling everyone when we'd have a profile out without talking to the rest of us must have pissed him off more than I thought.
Derek continues to argue with Hotch while Spencer sat watching them, not wanting to get in the middle. I chose to sit back and let him ride out the anger. I was in no position to tell someone to calm down, especially given the fact that it wasn't uncommon for me to punch walls. As long as Derek was using his words, even if he did end up yelling, he was still doing better than me.
Gideon who had previously kept absolutely silent, finally spoke. "Alright enough. Hotch tell them we're ready." And with that, he walked right on out of the room.
That certainly didn't help Derek in the slightest.
"We're ready?" He cried incredulously, "Reid. You're good with this? We've got a woman who's only got a few hours left to live, an incomplete profile, and a unit chief on the verge of a nervous breakdown."
I know my brother better than anyone, if Gideon would just explain what's going on in his head, I know that Derek would calm down a little. He doesn't like feeling like an outsider on his own team, no one does.
I guess Gideon was intent on pushing every button my brother had, because he stuck his head in just to say, "They don't call them nervous breakdowns anymore."
I pinched the bridge of my nose, now I was frustrated. Maybe Gideon wasn't ready, maybe he was simply trying to prove something, I really didn't know. What I did know was that he was getting on my brother's last nerve. While I greatly respected Gideon, if he kept pushing and it came down to a choice, I'd stand by Derek's side without a second thought.
"It's called a major depressive episode."
Spencer may look like an adorable puppy, but he probably had the worst timing ever.
Exasperation weighed down Derek's shoulders and the only thing he could bring himself to do was haphazardly raise his hand in Spencer's direction, "I, I know Reid."
There genuinely wasn't anything I could do in this situation. I couldn't make Gideon come back and explain himself, or give Derek any peace of mind about the mental health of our newly reinstated unit chief.
Which reminded me.
"Oh! By the way," I say as I turn to look over at Hotch, who's already up and ready to walk out of the room. "I thought you were the unit chief now."
"The unidentified subject is white and in his late twenties. He's someone you wouldn't notice at first, he's someone who'd blend into any crowd. The violent nature of the crime suggests a previous criminal record. Petty crimes, maybe auto theft. We've classified him as an organized killer, careful, psychopathic as opposed to psychotic. He follows the news, has good hygiene, he's smart. Cause he's smart, the only physical evidence you'll find is what he wants you to find. He's mobile, car in good condition. Our guess, jeep Cherokee, tinted windows. The murders have all involved rapes. But rape without penetration is a form of picquerism, and that tells us he's sexually inadequate." Gideon droned on and on about the profile.
I personally stopped listening when he brought up rape. I couldn't stand to sit there and listen to him try to explain everything that was wrong with this unsub, I never could. Although he was wrong about one thing.
Just because a man doesn't use penetrative rape doesn't mean he's inadequate. Sometimes it just means he's sadistic. Sometimes there is no other reason than their own sick twisted minds.
I felt my phone vibrate against my leg and fished it out to see that the director was calling me. Quickly, I excused myself from where we had all been standing in the back of the room listening to Gideon. Usually the director didn't call me at all, he preferred to send emails or just wait to check my case reports. So the fact that he was calling meant he needed to tell me something important.
I answered as soon as I was out of the room, "Hello?"
"Ah Morgan, I hope I'm not interrupting anything too important."
I wasn't about to tell him that I was grateful for any reason to be out of the room where Gideon was debriefing. "Not at all sir. Agent Gideon is just giving out the profile as we speak."
"I'm glad to hear that." There was a brief pause where he seemed to collect his thoughts. "I'm sure it goes without saying that you should keep a very close eye on Agent Gideon for the next few weeks. In light of the Bale incident, our psych team has cleared him for active duty."
"Of course, sir. You'll be the first to know if that clearance should be taken away or not." Like I said, I respected Gideon, but I had a job to do.
"I appreciate that Agent Morgan. But there was something else I wanted to discuss with you. We are currently training a new section chief for your team, her name is Erin Strauss. I want the two of you to meet sometime after you get back so that you can fill her in on how to deal with the team on a more personal level."
"I can certainly do that sir. I look forward to meeting her and I will make sure that I send in my report as soon as we get back." I just hope this Erin Strauss was going to be a better fit for the team instead of our current section chief, that man let people do whatever they wanted since he was so close to retirement.
"Keep up the good work Morgan, we'll talk more once you're back at base."
"Thank you, sir."
And with that the call was over. I had just shoved my phone into my pocket when the doors opened, letting me know that Gideon was done giving the profile.
I couldn't say I was too disappointed that I missed it.
The only thing of importance I had seemingly missed was that the unsub had supposedly been found and apprehended during the brief time I spent on the phone. Sometimes things in this job happen way too fast.
Once we arrive to the house, Gideon heads straight in while the rest of us are a little slower. Normally I'd be worried about how hard Gideon seems to be pushing himself to prove he's fine, but he had been taking care of himself longer than I'd been alive, so I figure he'll be alright.
The first thing Hotch does once we get inside is head straight upstairs to go do god knows what. The rest of us gather around Gideon, and I notice a woman linger out of the corner of my eye, but I really don't pay her any attention.
"There's no sign of the girl here. We can arrest him with probable cause but we won't be able to hold him," Spencer winces when he tells us the bad news. I don't know why I even bothered hoping for things to be easy for once, it never was.
I'm glad we caught the guy, but if we couldn't find something to tie him to Heather, in forty-eight hours we would have to let him go. Sometimes it seemed like the law worked against us. In retrospect, forty-eight hours could pass by in the blink of an eye when it came down to the wire, it just meant we all needed to work twice as hard to uncover evidence.
"Before his Son of Sam murders, David Berkowitz set a multitude of fires." Spencer had been exploring the kitchen, but rejoined the rest of us back in the main room so that we could hear him clearly.
"Exactly how much is a multitude?"
It never failed to amuse me when Derek would ask the exact question that was roaming around my head.
"According to his diary, one thousand four hundred and-"
"Eighty-eight."
The interruption of an unfamiliar feminine voice had me spinning around to take in the brunette woman standing in the doorway. She seemed to be about my height, but it was obvious by the way her clothes hung off of her that I was much curvier. One of the only good things my father had given me in life; half of my wonderful genetics. I inherited my mother's vibrant green eyes and loose curls. Naturally I was a little lighter than Derek, but our father's dark skin tone definitely contributed to my mocha complexion.
I was proud of my thickness, something I noticed this woman severely lacked.
Taking one look at her attire damn near had me about to curl my lip. She wore a light purple button up, which wouldn't have been too awful if she hadn't have paired it with a red leather jacket. Needless to say, she wasn't pulling it off.
I guess Gideon must have known her because without any hesitation he addressed her, "Luring him out was your idea, right? Greenaway?"
I genuinely couldn't explain why my hackles rose when she straightened up proudly and began to speak, but they did. "Elle. I don't send a SWAT team into a house with children."
Resisting the urge to roll my eyes was hard. Why exactly was she proud of something that anyone with a brain would do? And because I'm kind of a bitch, I couldn't help but bring it to her attention. "That's pretty much standard practice. I've never heard of anyone sending SWAT into a home where there's potentially children involved."
I was about one hundred percent positive that Gideon knew I was baiting her because he moved on to the next subject faster than one could snap their fingers. "Hotch says your background is in sex offender cases. What can you tell us?"
While she responded I chose to study her. I had no idea why she was here on this case. We really only worked with the local police during our cases and when we worked with other branches of the FBI there was always a group of them, never just one agent.
The whole situation just rubbed me up the wrong way. And I had learned to trust my gut feelings a long time ago.
Spencer and Gideon had wandered off upstairs while she was giving her explanation, once she finished running her mouth, I turned to follow Derek, who also begun making his way up the stairs. Like fuck he was going to leave me down here with her. "Next time show a little leg," he told her jokingly. Once again I was confused. How the hell did my brother know this chick? There were footsteps behind me and I briefly turned to see her taking two steps at a time, trying to catch up with us.
Fan-fucking-tastic. Just what I wanted.
She looked past me and pointed a finger up at him, "Morgan, the only time you're gonna see a little leg from me is when I'm about to kick your ass."
I stopped moving instantly, causing her to bump into my back before she took a step down. If there was one thing I would never tolerate, it was a threat to my brother. I didn't give a flying fuck who it was coming from or even if he did something to deserve it.
I'd burn this bitch to the ground before I ever let her lay a finger on him.
Turning around slowly, the icy glare on my face surprised her. "I don't know who the hell you are, but you don't talk to my brother that way." Before she can say anything, Derek gently grabbed ahold of my arm and pulled me closer to him.
"Don't mind her, she can be a bit overprotective sometimes." He laughed lightly, trying to play it off. But I held my glare steady because I didn't think it was funny.
She shot me a few side glances before she turned her attention back to Derek, "Seriously I want that opening at the BAU. You got any advice?"
I hated people like this. It now made sense as to why she was here. She was hoping to get in on this case and impress either Hotch or Gideon enough that she could worm her way into getting a spot on the team. She disguised her desperation as eagerness.
This chick was going to be a pain in my ass, I just knew it.
Realizing that I was moments away from sprouting off yet another sarcastic reply, Derek gently tugged on me, maneuvering us so that he was behind and nudging me up the stairs. "Just trust your instincts." Derek didn't spare her a second glance, his focus completely on getting me away from her.
I still didn't know how he knew her, but I'm guessing there was a reason that he had never mentioned her before. Maybe he instinctually knew I wouldn't get along with her.
He noticed Spencer at the top of the stairs that led to the attic and sent me towards him with a nod before he went off in the direction of a bedroom that some of the officers were searching.
I tried to force that Greenaway girl from my mind. I had a job to do and it wouldn't get done if I was distracted.
Spencer was waiting for me in the attic and I knew that if he took one look at the aggravation that no doubt lined my face, he would know something was up and would pry until I finally spilled the beans. I could bitch about Greenaway later on the jet, once we found the unsub, now was not the time. So I plastered on a look of complete nonchalance before meeting his eyes.
Without a word, I link my arm with his and nod over to where Hotch and Gideon are standing over what appears to be a weird ass checker table. "So, what the hell is that?" If anyone would know, it would be Spencer.
"In China it's called Wei-Chi. We know it as 'Go'. It's considered to be the most difficult board game ever conceived."
I chuckled under my breath. I knew he'd be able to tell me what it was without needing to do any research. Sometimes I wondered why Spencer bothered collecting knowledge about things that seemed useless, but whatever made him happy I guess.
The stairs behind us started creaking and I couldn't help the way my body stiffened in response. I knew that it would be impossible for it to be an assailant considering how many police were currently swarming the entire house, but for so many years my survival depended on my senses, and that never truly went away.
Apparently Greenaway had decided that it was alright to invite herself into our space, because she wandered over to us without any care in the world.
"What kind of game is it?"
I was starting to wish I had just stayed with Derek.
Spencer opens his mouth to answer but I beat him to the punch, "The most difficult game in the world." There was no need for him to get into semantics with her, it's not like she'd be sticking around anyway.
"Chairman Mao required his generals to learn it," Gideon absentmindedly adds.
I decide to head out of the attic. It wasn't really a calm zone for me since Greenaway showed up, and I really had no interest in discussing some old ass board game.
"What kind of player is Slessman?" Hotch's voice grows fainter with every step I take away from them.
"Extreme aggressor."
I had found Derek sitting in front of a computer with his brows furrowed in slight agitation. It only took me a couple seconds after looking at the screen to realize the cause. I was standing behind him, resting my hands atop his shoulders, when everyone decided to join us.
"What's the number six at the bottom of the screen?" Greenaway asks after invading our personal space yet again. That was getting real fucking annoying.
It did not escape my notice that this agent apparently didn't possess the ability to read.
"It says 'login attempts remaining' underneath the number. Was that understandable, or would you like me to explain further?" I casually turned to look at her before cocking an eyebrow. There was nothing but pure professionalism in my tone.
I could practically see her feathers getting ruffled by the way she shot me a what I'm sure she thought was a death glare, when in reality she looked more like a petulant toddler. "There could be an email or a journal in the computer, something that tells us where Heather is." Deeming me unworthy of her attention, she moved on to Derek, "Do you think you can break in?"
"In six tries?" Derek had reached the point where he couldn't even contain his scoff. Us Morgans were pretty fiery people, and we were quick to clapback as well. I mean we could only hold back the attitude for so long before it started seeping through the cracks.
"Try again. Fail again. Fail better."
By now the rest of us had all gotten pretty used to Gideon's penchant for spouting off whatever quotes he thought helped benefit the situation. It didn't necessarily bother me, I just didn't happen to find it as useful as I'm sure he intended it to be.
"Samuel Beckett." Spencer on the other hand, ate that kind of shit up. Maybe it was due to his eidetic memory, but I had a feeling that he knew every author of every quote Gideon would ever use.
And because Derek likes fuckery more than he'll ever admit, he can't help but throw in his own version of a quote, "Try not. Do or do not."
Gideon looks utterly lost and that's all it takes for me to let loose a chuckle. "Yoda, vecchio uomo. He's quoting Yoda." His look of confusion lessened slightly, but I could tell he didn't really get the point.
There was a lapse of silence that could almost be described as peaceful. Greenaway was searching for god knows what, Spencer and Derek were both thinking about what could crack that computer code, and I was just happy that my team was under one roof.
But of course that couldn't last because the world takes pleasure in making my life a living hell. It took Gideon maybe thirty seconds before he broke the quiet, "I wanna talk to him."
I guess he decided that no one else had anything to say about that, because he walked right on out of the room. I growled under my breath before making my way after him, could no one sit still for longer than five goddamn minutes?
It's not like I could let him go alone, Gideon had a bad habit of believing he was invincible. Okay maybe he didn't think that, but whatever it was, for some odd reason he never took himself into consideration when times like this arose. Not once did he worry about his own safety, or what it could do to his psyche. He just walked towards the danger headfirst.
Not that I really had any room to speak.
I'd always been a little on the reckless side myself. Pointing that gun at Joey, ready to end his life without a thought as to the repercussions it would mean for me as a minor. All the fights I got into during high school because I refused to let anyone speak poorly about my mother, regardless of the fact that they were right, she had been a druggie. Or my actions in that small camp in Afghanistan, how I had no intention of leaving there alive.
Yeah, I really couldn't lecture Gideon about shit.
Slessman had a certain air around him. His frail stature stopped him from coming anywhere close to intimidating, but it was his eyes that told the real story. The eerie emptiness that swirled in those dark pools was borderline suffocating.
He was seated at the kitchen table, an officer standing directly behind him. Gideon took a seat across from him while I opted to stand beside him. I didn't like the way his gaze stuck to us, it felt murky, like a thick fog that sticks to your skin in a humid swamp.
"So you read my paper. Learn anything?" Gideon has always preferred to take a roundabout approach to his interviews. He liked to lull them into a false sense of security, they were more likely to slip up that way.
"Heirens said a man living inside of his head was the one who committed the murders. You said he was lying." There's a potent detachment in his voice, one I've never been able to understand. How someone could close themselves off to the horrific things they had done, never made sense to me. "You said that there had never been an actual case of multiple personalities."
Gideon looks real bored at the moment, he's really not feeling the vibe Slessman's putting off. Not that I blame him in the slightest. "You have an academic interest in dissociative identity disorder, or are you just planning your defense?"
Apparently this weasel of a man had come to the incorrect conclusion that he had outsmarted Gideon judging by the twisted half smirk he displayed while chuckling lowly.
Opening up a book he had grabbed from upstairs, Gideon took out an old newspaper clipping. It wasn't until he slid it in front of Slessman that I got a good look at it. Featured on the front page was Gideon, hands covered in blood with a shell-shocked look plastered across his face.
I really hated how this seemed to keep popping up every which way we turned.
Gideon's face is hard as he stares Slessman down, "You a fan of Adrien Bale's work?"
The way Slessman couldn't keep his eyes off the paper could have made me think he was possessed. That shit wasn't normal. "No," he shook his head before finally glancing up, seemingly gazing directly into Gideon's soul. "I'm a fan of yours."
Holy shit.
Talk about textbook definition of psychopath.
While Slessman and Gideon continue to stare at one another, no doubt trying to see who'll break first, I took stock of the little things I had seen. Every head twitch, the subtle shifts in his expression when Gideon hit a sore spot, hell even the pattern that he tapped his fingers to against the table. I look for anything that might indicate he'll pounce in Gideon's direction.
It doesn't help that the officer who's supposedly keeping an eye on Slessman, has his hands resting on his belt. God forbid anything go wrong, this officer wouldn't be quick enough to grab his gun. Compared to his stance, I'm sure mine just screams paranoia. I've got one hand twitching against the handle of my firearm, while the other is resting tensely at my side, ready to snap up at a moment's notice.
Suddenly any light that might have been in his eyes was gone. Slessman tilted his head and spoke slowly, "You know they never give you the real facts about CPR. That outside of a hospital it's only effective seven percent of the time. Your friend had a ninety-three percent certainty of dying, but you kept trying." I could feel my anger rising the more he continued to talk, "Even after you'd broken his ribs, even after his blood was all over your hands." His lips upturned in triumph before he made to lean forward, no doubt about to taunt Gideon again.
Having absolutely enough of this, I promptly grab his shoulder and push him back in his chair. "You don't get to move." His heated glare swung towards me, offended that I dared to interrupt his conversation with Gideon. Clearly this motherfucker didn't know who I was.
I did whatever the fuck I wanted, and this pathetic excuse of a man would not intimidate me.
"If you would like to test me on this, I will have a strait jacket brought in. I will strap you into it, lay you on the floor, and then watch as you squirm about uncomfortably."
I didn't bother lowering my voice, after a year of working together Gideon woulda known exactly what I said without having to hear it, so I didn't bother concealing it. I wait until his body relaxes back into the chair before I remove the firm hand I placed on his shoulder.
Him and I continue to stare one another down, I wasn't kidding about the strait jacket. I did find his look of frustration amusing though. With the training I've undergone and my experience during my service, I'm the last person he wants to try to overpower. When he continues to glare, I narrow my own eyes in a manner that I hope conveys the message: try it, I dare you.
Laying this guy flat on his ass would be of no great consequence to me.
Gideon drew Slessman's attention back to him, "Why don't you tell us where Heather Woodland is?"
Slessman paused and looked off into the corner before refocusing back on Gideon, "Woodland..." He licked his bottom lip, much to my disgust, before tilting his head mockingly. "Isn't she the girl that went missing a couple days ago?"
Was it too much to ask that these creeps just fess up when we ask them to?
Gideon took stock of the room around us for a moment before he made eye contact with the officer behind Slessman, "Get him out of here."
I personally didn't move until Gideon was out of the kitchen. I saw Hotch standing in the hallway, looking off in the direction Gideon had walked off in. Before I could say anything, he turned to look at me, "I got this. Go upstairs and try to help them figure out the code."
Nodding, I turned and made my way up the stairs, content in the knowledge that Hotch could handle Gideon just fine.
Gideon brought Hotch and Greenaway back to the field office with Slessman. Gideon's always been super observant and I'm sure it wasn't hard to feel the tension between Greenaway and I, thus I had come to the conclusion that Greenaway had been taken to keep the peace around here.
Derek's voice brought me back to the moment, he was standing with his back to me as he talked into his phone. "Hey it's Morgan. Need you to work me some magic here. I got a program called Deadbolt Defense, and a girl with only a couple of hours to live, so what do you know?" There was a pause before a playful glint entered his eyes that caught my attention. "I thought I was calling the office of supreme genius."
That was all I needed to know exactly who was on the other end of this phone call. Two steps forward and I was right behind him, plucking the phone from his grip just in time to hear, "Well gorgeous, you've been rerouted to the office of too friggin' bad." I ignored the look of fond exasperation that my brother directed my way.
"Aw, I think you're gorgeous too bambola."
I was rewarded with a sharp squeal that I was one hundred percent expecting. "Hi Darling! What a treat, both Morgans calling little ole' me."
I had to laugh, she was just so precious. It was damn near impossible for someone to hate that woman, she quite literally lit up whatever room she entered. "Well I haven't gotten to see you for a week, I'm going through withdrawals." I didn't have to be there to know she had one hand to her heart as she gushed. "I just wanted to make sure I said my hellos before my brother got away with hogging you all to himself, you know how he can be. Can't talk much now, but I promise that we'll get together once we're back, okay?"
"I'll be eagerly awaiting your arrival." Penelope was too sweet sometimes.
I blew a kiss into the phone before snapping it shut and tossing it back to Derek, who like always was expecting it, and caught the phone perfectly. Sometimes he was a straight up showoff. I leaned my back against the wall and watched as Derek started to wander around the room, trying to get a feel for who Slessman is.
He made his way into the bathroom where he pulled out a prescription bottle from the medicine cabinet, "My name is Richard Slessman and I have trouble sleeping." Apparently being a profiler meant you spoke to yourself whenever, the whole team did it and sometimes it was a little weird depending on the subject matter.
"Not to point out the obvious, but that little creep looked like he'd get off if he got to sleep in a coffin rather than a bed."
Derek's gaze swung to mine, "Seriously?" He looked like he wanted to ask why I thought that but also didn't really want an answer.
I shrugged, "Dunno. He seems like the type."
"Ari, that's a pretty specific type."
"You wouldn't be questioning it if you'd seen the way he looked at Gideon downstairs."
Derek took a moment for my words to sink in before slowly nodding in acquiesce. Another one of the many reasons my brother is beyond amazing in my eyes. In the middle of an investigation, if I went completely off topic, he never scolded me. Hell he'd join in most of the time.
Moving on, Derek walked past me to lay down on Slessman's bed and no bullshit, a full body shudder ran through me. Why in the name of fuck would he do that? I mean surely that can't be sanitary. Normal people do all sorts of weird shit in their beds, who the hell wanted to think about what that little serial killer was doing in his.
"Okay, what do I do when I'm trying to get to sleep?"
I continued to stare at my brother like he had lost his mind, and after a minute or two, he finally noticed. Eyebrows furrowed at my expression, he looked at me like I was the one with the problem. "We just gonna pretend you're not laying on the bed of a suspected vampire?" Naturally, I just couldn't let it go.
Derek rolled his eyes in mock annoyance, "Hey now, the vampirism wasn't fully confirmed."
"Listen Derek, he came close enough. I bet he woulda lit up like a funeral pyre doused in gasoline if I sprayed him with some holy water."
"I mean if we're being honest," he looks over at me with a knowing smirk, "if I was sprayed with holy water, I'd probably go up in flames too."
This cheeky bastard. I couldn't keep the smile off my face as I walked over to him, "You got something to tell me?" I moved like I was gonna grab his face, "Open your mouth, I wanna check your teeth."
Laughing, Derek reached over to grab one of the pillows and swung it at me. Luckily I had fast reflexes and got the fuck outta dodge. I hadn't been joking about the hygiene of Slessman's personal items. I pointed at my childish older brother, "You best believe you'll be bathing in hand sanitizer before you come near me again. Who knows what you just caught."
I went to wipe my hands on my pants when they hit something solid beside me. Turning, I saw a CD rack that was filled to capacity. Derek's original question ran through my head as I continued to stare at the vast selection. "By the way," I drew Derek's attention over to where I was pointing next to me, "that might have something to do with your little insomnia problem."
"Well it's a better place to start than nowhere."
I turned to stare at him with a deadpan expression, "You know, 'thank you for the help my dear sweet sister' is also an acceptable answer."
Derek and I had been going through Slessman's CD's for what seemed like hours before Spencer wandered down to come help us. In reality it had probably only been about half an hour, but it felt like an eternity. Derek and I had found jack shit, so Spencer decided to sit on the bed and scatter the CD's around him.
What the fuck was with my boys and this bed? Maybe I was a germaphobe, but there was just something so fundamentally wrong with them sitting on this bed. I scowled down at the object in offense.
Suddenly grasping onto a plastic case, Spencer's head shot up, "I think I've got something. Where's Morgan?"
Oh, did I forget to mention that Derek had essentially said 'fuck this' and wandered off back to the attic about five minutes after Spencer came to help?
Cause he totally did. Not that I blamed him, I was over this before we even started.
I pointed up, indicating that he was on the level above us. Knowing that he would follow, I turned and made my way towards my brother. As soon as I cleared the stairs I could see his figure pacing back and forth in agitation.
I felt myself soften at the sight. Sometimes you couldn't save everyone. That doesn't mean you don't try, it just means that at the end of the day even we have our limitations. It sucks, but that's life.
It was a lesson Derek didn't like, but I was forced to learn it the hard way and I didn't want that for him.
Squeezing past me, Spencer made for Slessman's computer. "I think we may have missed the obvious," he used a paper clip to hit the eject button and out popped a CD.
An irrational amount of anger coursed through me. All that fucking time going through CD's and the one we needed was right here the whole time? I should go slap Slessman for wasting my motherfucking time.
Although how Spencer figured it out went right over my head.
Derek quickly came over to take a seat in front of the computer screen where a passcode was required to unlock it, "Alright. I'm an insomniac who listens to Metallica to go to sleep at night. What song could possibly speak to me?"
None that I was familiar with. Plus I was still convinced that Slessman was a vampire.
"Enter Sandman."
I made my way to stand behind the two of them while Spencer figured it out. Derek quickly typed in the password and the next thing we knew a live video feed of Heather was on the screen.
The sight of her caused me to freeze.
I could barely hear Derek telling Spencer to call Gideon over the sound of my pounding heart. It felt like all the heat in the room vanished as a chill ran up my spine. I had to grip the back of the couch to keep myself standing.
The burn behind my eyes told me that tears were soon to follow if I didn't get myself under control. But I couldn't, the carefully constructed walls I had built around me shook and creaked under the pressure. Here this poor girl was, trapped in a cage, tape wrapped around her eyes tightly, and a rag shoved in her throat to prevent her muffled cries from being heard. It was truly a very sad sight, but that's not what hit me.
Heather's face had been replaced with Tara's and I had to fight to get air back in my lungs.
Tara, sweet Tara, who wanted nothing more than to watch her kids grow up. Tara, whose motherly instincts made the rest of us miss home a little less.
The same Tara who had gone missing when she volunteered to help another unit for a recon mission.
Private Lieutenant Tara Woods who was forced on her knees, blindfolded, as her and two other soldiers were shot in an act of retaliation.
Tara Amelia Woods whose execution I had to watch on tape, whose body I'd had to identify and send home for proper burial.
Tara with a hole in the back of her head.
Tara who left three little kids motherless.
Tara who died with nothing more than the goddamn dark to comfort her-
The tear that ran down my cheek pulled me from my rapid spiraling thoughts and I roughly wiped it away before it could be seen. Tara had deserved so much more than what the world had given her, all of them did.
I never could figure out why I was the only one who didn't come home in a box.
I had to force myself to remember that this was Heather, not Tara. Heather needed our help now and Tara had been far beyond my reach for quite some time, I couldn't change what had happened.
I had to stay in the present; otherwise the past would suffocate me with the guilt. And I wasn't sure I was strong enough to fight it again.
Hotch had called to inform us that while we had been searching through CD's, a time consuming and quite frankly boring task, they had found Slessman's partner. A man named Vogel was apparently the dominant one of the two of them. He had also managed to find a way to dupe them.
We wanted to come in, help them track Vogel, but Hotch ordered us to stay put, saying we could be more helpful here. So for the past couple minutes all we've been able to do was watch helplessly as Heather continued to cry from within her cage. We may not have known where she was, but it was a small comfort that she was still alive.
Spencer hadn't stopped pacing behind us, shooting the computer an odd glance ever so often. I knew not to ask him what he was doing, it went without saying that his brain was moving too fast for me to keep up anyway.
It didn't take much longer before Spencer locked onto something, "Morgan can you show me the last twelve images lined up next to each other?"
Derek did as he was asked and we all leaned closer to see that the hanging light was moving slightly. Spencer noticeably perked up, "Right there, right there. You see that?" He pointed at the screen, "The light bulb hanging from the wire? It's shifting positions. Like it's swaying..." His words trailed off as he moved his head along with the light. "It's like the earth is tilting."
Bingo.
"Oh, she's not on land doc," I looked back and smirked at Spencer, incredibly proud that he had noticed something so small yet important. "She's in the ocean."
Derek, being the seasoned agent between the three of us, immediately went into command mode. "Ariadne go call Hotch and let him know the search parameters have changed." I stood and let Spencer take my place beside Derek while the two of them pulled the computer closer, trying to find any more hidden clues that might help with the location.
I pulled out my phone, hoping that Hotch would pick up. I knew he was probably in the middle of an intense interrogation with Slessman, or 'the vampire' as I liked to refer to him as, but this was a serious game changer that he needed to know about now.
"Hotch." I thanked the heavens that he picked up.
"Hey, so Spencer just figured out that Heather's on a boat."
The sound of rustling clothes fills my ears and when he replies Hotch's voice is labored, "She's on a boat? Where?" He must be jogging somewhere with the way he was exhaling into the receiver.
"If I knew her exact location I woulda started with that key piece of information. That being said, she's gotta be on a pier or a dock. There's no way he'd be able to transmit a live feed from somewhere in the middle of the ocean." I felt I deserved a little bit of credit here, if I had known the address I would've called Gideon since he was the one out in the field at the moment.
"You're sure about this?"
I let a small chuckle slip through my lips, "C'mon boss man, I wouldn't call you with some half assed guess." I could imagine him nodding along to that. "Spencer knows what he's doing, we just have to trust him. But Slessman's still the only one who knows exactly where she is, that's where you come in."
It was a shame I wasn't there to break the little man. I would've enjoyed it after what he had said to Gideon.
"What's it you two always ask Garcia?"
"To give up the location of the hidden photoshopped pictures she's made of Derek and I that we all know are on her hard drive."
Probably not what he meant, but it is something I frequently ask.
There was a moment of silence before he spoke, "I'm not saying that isn't true, but that's not what I'm talking about."
Knowing my time was running short, I hurried to wrap this up. "Derek always asks her to work a little magic for him, I'll see what I can do about that. You have fun with Slessman, and don't be afraid to beat the answers out of him."
I was only partly joking.
I hung up the phone and made my way back to the boys wondering if there was truly anything else we could do from here.
I wasn't messing around about the existence of those pictures either. Penelope swore she'd take the location of those photos to the grave, but I'll find them one day.
It was kinda funny in a way. Most people assumed Penelope was straight as an arrow with the way she and Derek constantly went back and forth with the heavy banter. So it came as a shock to a few people when I received the same attention upon joining the team.
I guess she just had a thing for Morgans.
Hotch ended up letting us know they got the location out of Slessman through text. Apparently he did not need to physically harm the smaller man into giving up his partner. That was a pity, dude definitely deserved at least one solid punch to the throat.
Gideon and Greenaway were on their way to the shipyard that Heather was being held hostage at. The only problem was that Vogel had gotten a significant head start on them, so it was our job to watch and let them know when he arrived.
I was biting my fingernail when a shadow appeared on the screen. I quickly nudged Derek to get his attention and we watched as a body approached the cage.
There you are you bastard. Caught you red fucking handed.
I couldn't help but bite down on my nail harder in anticipation. I should be there with Gideon right now, ensuring his safety. Instead I was sitting around uselessly watching a screen. My job was to be out there, if only I'd known they would end up chasing after the unsub.
Greenaway better be the best damn lookout or I'll make sure she never even hears about the BAU again.
Derek turns and points at Spencer, "Get Elle on the phone."
That makes me stop short. What in the ever-loving hell is going on?
Why does Spencer have her number? Why aren't we calling Gideon? And again, why does Spencer have her number?
When the fuck did I miss that exchange of information?
Spencer, oblivious to my brief crisis, quickly does as he's told and before I know it he's handing the phone over to my brother. It doesn't take Derek long before he's up and pacing once again, "Listen to me. You need to wait for backup."
I could've scoffed at his request. This girl was aiming for a spot in the BAU, there is no way on this green earth that she was gonna let her moment to shine slip through her fingers.
I couldn't hear what Greenaway said in response but going off of Derek's tone of voice, it wasn't anything helpful. "And if we had waited in Boston-"
Boston was a tricky situation, one that affected all of us. The only reason Gideon lost it was because the blame fell solely upon his shoulders according to most people. Had the roles been reversed, I couldn't say for sure that the rest of us would be as okay as we were now. That was why I grabbed the phone before Derek could continue on.
"Greenaway, just watch his back and you won't have anything to worry about." I hung up after that, there was nothing else for me to say to her. I handed the phone back to my brother, making sure I caught his eyes before letting go, "Boston wasn't his fault, he only did what he thought was best at the time. None of us are perfect and it would be hypocritical of us to hold him to an impossible standard."
I hadn't been there for the whole thing that day, I was on a conference call with the director when I found out that the rest of my team was onsite. I'd never driven so fast in my life. It was one of the few times in my life where I've been so close to losing it. It wasn't something I liked to remember, so I had sympathy for Gideon.
I maintained eye contact with my brother until he gave me a slight nod to let me know he got the point. I knew there wasn't anything else I could do up here, nothing beside sit around, and I had no desire to keep seeing Tara's face flash across the back of my eyelids whenever I closed my eyes for more than a second. So I made my way through the house, intent on getting some fresh air while I awaited the news.
We didn't have to wait long before we were informed that Vogel had been caught and Heather was safe and sound. That came as a major relief to us, I don't know what it would've done to Gideon if his first case back had ended in tragedy.
It didn't take long for Derek, Spencer and I to make it down to the shipyard. Once we rolled up, I quickly made my way out of the car towards where Gideon and Greenaway were standing. I was relieved to see that he looked alright, that was until my eyes wandered down to his bandaged arm. Without a single word, I lifted the limb in order to inspect it.
The wound had bleed through the white gauze a little, creating a more circular shape. Had the pattern been anything else I would have assumed he'd been grazed with a knife. I met the older man's eyes, "Through and through?" I asked him, making sure to keep my calm.
Gideon visible softened at the look of concern I shot him, "Yeah, nothing to worry about. The paramedics have already taken care of it." And to my complete and utter horror he praised the woman standing next to us, "Elle here shot him at first opening."
I couldn't give a rat's ass about what Elle did.
Clearly she was too slow if he had gotten shot in the first place. Jesus, these people did their absolute best to give me a heart attack. I was going to go prematurely grey doing this job.
The rest of the team had gathered around us at this point and I let go of Gideon's arm. I refused to look over at Greenaway, not wanting to rile myself up any further. While conversation broke out among us, Gideon took off to go speak to one of the officers near the ship.
"So what kind of report do they want on him?"
Derek's question made me focus my attention back on him and Hotch. I knew that as our boss Hotch was required to turn in his own report, probably to HR, as to Gideon's performance in the field. A report I'm sure wouldn't differ too much from mine.
"I suppose whether he's fit to be a field agent." Hotch looked serious for a moment before a small smile covered his face, "You know Haley and I were looking at a baby names book. Guess what Gideon means in Hebrew."
If he even thought about naming his kid Gideon, I was gonna riot.
"Mighty warrior," Spencer popped up outta nowhere before he smirked, "Appropriate." And with that he walked over to Gideon without a single glance back at us.
I had to laugh a little at it. His timing was kind of impeccable with that one. Not even Derek or Hotch were immune to the humor of the situation if their slight chuckles were anything to go off of. I was a firm believer that Hotch's smiles were to be protected at all costs, seeing as how they were few and far between. Plus he looked far less intimidating with them.
Derek was the first to sober up as he continued with the previous topic of conversation, "So, what are you gonna tell them?"
I knew there was no way that Hotch would give a report indicating that Gideon was unfit for the field. The man would have had to be drinking straight from a flask for Hotch to even consider thinking he couldn't handle the stress. Loyalty ran deep within the team, not even Hotch's need for professionalism overrode it.
"He saved that girl's life. That'll be good enough for the director for now," I so wasn't going to get into how I knew that.
I reached out for Derek's hand and dragged him over to where Gideon and Spencer were standing.
Every one of us was having a hard time keeping our eyes open by the time the plane settled into the air. Spencer had passed out in one of the chairs almost immediately, his soft snores were actually kind of adorable.
Not that I would ever let him know I thought that.
Derek and I claimed the couch for ourselves, he chose to be a gentleman and let me spread out before resting my head on his leg. I sent him a sleepy smile that I hoped conveyed my gratitude. I had a feeling that the nightmares would be kept at bay with his presence.
Fingers made their way into my hair, lulling me into a feeling of warm nothingness. "Buona notte," my voice drifted off as I closed my eyes.
"Buona notte principessa."
I clutched his pantleg a little tighter before I let my consciousness drift. It hadn't been our worst case, but it also wasn't the easiest either. However at the end of the day my team was here, safe on the jet, heading home with only minor injuries.
That's all I could really ask for.
Translations:
Vecchio uomo- Old man
Bambola: Doll
Buona notte- Goodnight
Principessa: Princess
