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Hopefully they'll be another chapter up tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then definitely Tuesday!

Where the Blue of the Night

"The things which the child loves remain in the domain of the heart until old age. The most beautiful thing in life is that our souls remaining over the places where we once enjoyed ourselves."

- Kahlil Gibran

Chapter Thirty One

November 8th - Evening

Hush, little baby, don't say a word

It was strange, sitting in the back of the vehicle, blacked out windows shielding him from prying eyes. Not that there would be any of those tonight; no one was interested in him, or what he was doing, unless they needed to know something, or he hurriedly called one of the points of contact he had been given.

They'd not given a profile yet, and Reid wasn't sure if they would do. As far as he was aware, Hotch, Emily, Morgan and JJ, along with Garcia and Kevin, were back at the safe house, gathering information on Martha Moore from whatever stone had yet to be unturned. He'd had a phone call almost every six minutes precisely.

But he still felt detached.

It wasn't like he ever played a main role in searching houses. Reid had long since accepted – around about the time he'd been barricaded in a toilet cubicle by three sophomore girls when he was a junior – that he was never going to be an action man. He still smarted when he remembered having to renew his gun licence; not because it had taken a lot of help from Hotch, but because of the sympathy it had wrought from his colleagues, the sympathy that was entwined with the notion that he didn't really need to carry a weapon anyway. Another bruise to add to his shins.

And here he was, being kept safe again.

There was no one to hide from in the car, no reason to hide under a facade of facts and figures that were always a safety net for awkwardness or when he really wasn't sure how to relate to the people he was with. He could have pulled out a few statistics for comfort, but the lights around him from the flashlights were too distracting and he almost felt like opening the window and shouting to them to turn them off. But that wouldn't help much. It would just antagonise the officers who were searching, and that, he knew, was not wanted.

He'd been left in the back of a car as a child once for three hours. His mom had driven them to a grocery store as there was no food left in the house. She'd told him to wait in the car while she went in the store, telling him that he'd only get under her feet and ask for things she couldn't afford if he came in, so he'd waited.

And waited.

Then waited some more.

It hadn't been summer and the car had been cold, almost freezing. She'd locked him in to keep him safe from any bad people that were walking round and he couldn't unlock the doors to get out and go look for her. So he'd been stuck there.

When she returned it was dark, a neat, cloudless sky had hung overhead, spotted with stars that he could name. He hadn't complained when she got back, he hadn't cried or become upset or gotten cross. Instead he'd named the constellations that he'd seen while she cried, sat on the driver's seat, her head against the steering wheel as she realised what she'd done.

She'd forgotten the food.

He'd said it was alright, and they drove to a diner. He'd had a burger and she'd eaten fried chicken, and they both drank coke and shared an ice cream sundae.

Sitting now in the back of the car, catching glimpses of the lights carried by the officers reminded him of that night, and as he reached into his pocket for his phone he thought of the small boy they were ultimately looking for and hoped he'd taste that burger and drink that coke with his mom soon.

Papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird

And if that mockingbird won't sing...

He felt annoyed. He knew they had been given a case to work on; there had been no other explanation for them to be outside that woman's house, although he'd figured it was because of some minor stalker incident, something to keep the team occupied while they were considered to be 'safe'. Now he knew that it wasn't just some mild stalker case, it was bigger than that, or so he'd heard from a friend in the press who'd rang to see if he knew anything about Alfie Fletcher being Geoff Thompson's son, and Thompson being arrested for murder. He'd given Tim a few leads from time to time, let him know over a drink in a bar what was going on – particularly with the BAU. He never gave details that would show too much knowledge; just what anyone in the local PD could have found out.

It had stung when he hadn't known as much as Tim. It had stung even more when he realised that his carefully enacted plans had been as successful as he had anticipated. He hadn't brought the BAU to its knees.

He'd taken a few personal days. No one had asked why. They didn't pry into his business. They knew he was professional and would only take time off when it was necessary and there was nothing pressing on the job. He'd picked up a couple of cars under different names, using identities he'd carefully created. There was no way they'd be traced back to him. He'd been too careful. Another car he'd used had been stolen a while ago and picked up by a petty criminal after it had been dumped. The criminal had just happened to live in the apartment next to his old school friend, and he'd sold it for peanuts. He had it all under control. They wouldn't find out who he was until he wanted them too.

Part of him felt a little guilty. Sophie, the girl, was still stuck in the converted basement. She hadn't done anything really, except become friendly with Agent Prentiss, but that word still struck him hard. Friendly. Prentiss had never been like that with him, never been anything more cordial, polite. When she'd started at the BAU he'd thought she might have given him a way into Jennifer's world, introduced them, befriended him. But instead she'd just been polite, with a slight sneer underneath. She reminded him of the girls at school who had used to smile at him to his face, and be nice, and then they'd go and giggle quietly about him when they thought he wasn't looking. She was just like that; her and Derek Morgan.

Bitterness cascaded into his stomach, irritating the ulcer that he was sure was already there. He had some tablets in one of the other cars, but not this one; and he cursed himself for being unprepared. Still, there wasn't much reason to hang around here now. There was only Agent Reid about, tucked away in a car, and what he was about to do required him to drive a few streets away anyhow. Then he may as well head home, maybe send some groceries down to Sophie, or just leave her with what was left in the freezer.

He bet Prentiss had laughed about him with Sophie too. He could see her telling Sophie about this guy they worked with, how he couldn't keep his wife, how he was always thinking he had a shot at being in their group. Maybe Sophie laughed back. She was probably one of the popular ones at school too. She probably laughed at boys like he was, made fun of them.

He'd leave her to manage what food she had.

A cop pulled him over as he drove away, asked him if he'd seen Martha Moore at all. He'd told him no, the truth – he wouldn't stop them from catching someone who was harming children of course. Then he'd driven two blocks away, to where a group of boys had been kicking a ball about, playing soccer.

"Here," he said to one, his window wound down. "Take this to one of the officers who are over there." He passed him an envelope and a ten dollar bill.

"Is it dangerous?" the boy said, cautious.

He shook his head. "It's a note I need to get to Agent Reid. They'll pass it too him."

"You an agent too?" the boy said, sounding excited.

He smiled and nodded. "Yeah. But I'm off duty now, and if I take this myself they'll have me working again. A bit like how you hide away when your mom wants you to empty the dishwasher." He knew they wouldn't have to wash the dishes round here. None of them would be used to the childhood he'd had.

"Sure," said the boy, taking the envelope and the money. "I'll go now."

He gave him a smile and then revved the engine, seeing the boy running in the correct direction as he drove off.

Papa's gonna buy you a diamond ring

The night time whispered in through open blinds, making the winter that little more obvious. Will had made it his afternoon mission to collect enough wood to get the open fire going properly, and now it was spitting sparks against the guard, a low roar fascinating Henry.

JJ was sitting opposite him, her legs curled under her as she looked down a page of notes that to him were illegible. "Rossi faxed these over about ten minutes ago. Hotch has asked us all to have a look separately; see what we think."

"There's still nothing to suggest John Moore is implicated in some way?" Will said, casting an eye to Henry, who was gazing drowsily at the fire.

JJ shook her head. "There's nothing clear cut about the case at all. Nothing else has been found in their house, and there's no sign of Martha in any of the places they've looked so far, or of Officer Bergamon either. It turns out that Martha Moore was Bergamon's elementary school teacher, and was particularly well liked. Her partner, Bradley Calliss, has told Rossi that Lyndsay couldn't believe people were even suggesting that Martha could be somehow involved in the disappearance of these children. It would have been easy for Martha to persuade her to get her out of the hospital."

"Would her husband have realised her plans?" Will said, holding his feet closer to the fire.

"Rossi seems to think so. His reaction when he found out that Martha was missing from the hospital was very false," JJ checked the notes, "and Rossi says that after denying knowing anything at all, John Moore has pretty much said nothing for the entire time they've been trying to question him." She handed the notes to Will.

He began to read them while JJ sat by Henry on the floor, bouncing a toy in front of him, but their son's eyes were fixed on the fire. "I think we've created a pyromaniac," JJ said.

Will smiled, continuing to read. Rossi's notes were thorough, but that meant he had written quickly and it was sometimes hard to work out what he had put. The notes had been given out in the hope it would help build up Martha's profile, so they could think of places where she may have hidden, or have taken Alfie. The concern now was that she would panic and run, taking the child with her and disposing of him during her flight. The perimeters around places known to her would be tightened, but that wouldn't make them impenetrable. She would have allies, possibly, as well, people who could be identified by her husband, but he was saying nothing.

However, Rossi knew better than probably anyone else that over ninety percent of communication was non-verbal, so when he couldn't write down a spoken response, he made a note of Moore's expression, his gestures, where his eyes flicked to, and this interpretation could give some information at least.

"Moore isn't very bright, is he?" Will said. JJ had now taken Henry out of his seat and was playing with him on the floor, the fire creating a shadow play behind them.

"No," she said, looking up. "It appears he's tried to cover up the fact that he knows something at the very least."

"So the best possible situation for him would be that he knew his wife was up to something bad, and that they may have had a conversation in the past where she said she'd never manage in jail. Or that he believes she is innocent, and thinks she did the best thing in getting out of hospital. He may know he's at risk of saying something that incriminates her, so he's keeping his mouth closed," Will said. "The worst is that Martha hasn't been acting alone in this, he's made a partnership with her and he's probably hoping she's disposing of the evidence."

Will passed the notes back to JJ, who now had Henry on her knee. "What does your gut tell you?" she said.

He shrugged. "More if I could speak to him myself. I can't get that much from Rossi's observations."

"I could ask Hotch if you could speak with Moore tomorrow," she said, looking at him questioningly.

"I don't mind, Jayje, if it helps with the case, but I have no jurisdiction here. I couldn't even interview him as an officer."

She nodded. "That might be what it needs. Someone who he can talk with."

"Maybe," Will said, standing up. "I think Rossi and Reid have just parked. I'll take Henry up to bed and let you get ready for your meeting." He picked up his son, and leaned over, kissing JJ on the cheek. She leaned into him, one of her hands grasping hold of his back as she nuzzled into his neck.

"I just want to go home," she said. "Spend some time without a case with just you and I and Henry."

"I know, cher," he said. "It'll all be sorted out soon." He wished he could promise that, but at the moment, from what he could see, they were no closer to finding the person who was keeping them hostage in this house than they were when they first got there, and now it seemed the team as a whole were functioning on the lowest ebb he'd seen.

Will glanced back to JJ as he opened the door to the hallway, seeing the shadows created by the fire dance up and down the walls. She cut a sorry figure, sat there, her head resting on one hand, her hair slightly mussed by her son's fingers, and he wondered for how much longer they could carry on like this.

I am hopefully going to get chance this week to write that short HP piece to regular reviewers I promised ages ago, so keep an eye on your inbox. It may not be long, but I will try to make it 'soothing' to make up for the HP tension in the previous chapter!

Sarah x