Thank you for the reviews one the previous chapters. Those consistent reviewers will be getting a nice little HP piece tomorrow morning – not quite finished yet and I've just taken my migraine meds so won't be quite ready tonight. Shorter chapter too on this due to time reasons and migraine - sorry!
Please have a look at my new short story, How Far Away the Stars as I'd really, really like feedback and constructive criticism. Thank you to those who have already reviewed, you'll have your reward on Sunday.
Next chapter of these will be Sunday too, finger crossed that the migraine goes quickly.
Where the Blue of the Night
" Obsessional does not necessarily mean sexual obsession, not even obsession for this, or for that in particular; to be an obsessional means to find oneself caught in a mechanism, in a trap increasingly demanding and endless."
- Jacques Lacan
Chapter Thirty Three
November 9th
She didn't want to, put she had to, so she did it before he woke. Small children sleep through the strangest things, she'd noticed. Matthew should have woken when she bound his hands together; then put tape over his mouth. She'd tied his feet to the workbench first; make sure they were secure enough so that he wouldn't make noise by kicking things. That was the only problem with this place; it wasn't sound proofed, and people like Mrs Peachman would walk by occasionally.
Martha looked at him, assessing how much danger he was currently posing her. He'd lost weight; the baby fat from all the candy and chocolate he'd been given at his bad mother's had gone quickly, and she'd noticed that he was shivering last night. He had a cough too, but at least with the tape round his mouth no one would hear it. Children were so silly sometimes, getting ill. It would be better when he was a little older and his immune system was better developed.
She hoped he would be a bit better when she returned to get him. There were some things she had to do today, some things that hadn't been essential up until now, but now they needed doing. Once they were out of the way, she would come back for Matthew and they would leave, starting their new life, and a better life it would be for both of them. But first she had those things to do.
Emily was in the car already, her seat belt fastened and a thick scarf around her neck that Hotch identified as being one of Reid's. For the briefest moment, he felt a pang of jealousy, trying to brush it off like dandruff that just won't quite all go.
"Did you manage to get any more sleep?" he said to her as he got in the car. The wind was up today, the trees bending and bowing as if watching a Broadway show.
"Not really," she said, her voice lacking energy and she didn't make eye contact.
"You don't have to go today," Hotch said, the key in the ignition. "I can ask JJ instead." He'd decided last night, or rather early morning; that it must be Emily who was the UnSub's target, and not JJ whom he'd originally supposed. Given the news about Sophie he was reluctant to take Emily. He thought she'd be better at the safe house, sitting safely with Llewellyn and Garcia.
"No," she said, only now turning her head to look at him. "I need to do something, Hotch. I can't stay here doing nothing."
He nodded, understanding what she meant. "You need to make sure you are focused on what's going on around you. I'll be with you as much as I can, but I'm going to have to make a few calls and speak with the media." Agent Boyd had disappeared, something he had divulged to no one else on the team other than Rossi and Llewellyn, and as the case they were working on was only known by a handful of people, it was down to Hotch and Boyd's own team to investigate, beginning with a trip to Boyd's apartment later.
Emily nodded. "I'm always focused, Hotch."
He almost decided not to take her right then, but instead he let the fury he was now struggling to control dictate the speed at which he drove, setting off from the safe house in a storm of leaves. He regretted his words the night after she came out of hospital. He thought that keeping her at arm's length would make it easier on him when it came to situations that posed danger for them both. For the whole of today, until she was safely back at the safe house, he would be on pins, unable to be comfortable. But not being able to comfort her, to confess his fears, was making it worse.
The road through the forest widened ahead, creating room for a stopping point. He slowed suddenly and pulled the car off the road, leaving the engine on to maintain the heat. She looked at him, her eyes saddened by him, by Sophie, by the whole mess they were in.
"Hotch," she said. "I'm not going back. The local PD has asked us to continue to help them on this, and we need to give them a more detailed profile of Martha Moore..."
"I know you're not going back," he said, keeping his voice quiet. "I'm not asking you to, and I don't want you to. I'm not stopping because of that."
"Are you stopping because you've been a complete and utter idiot?" Her voice was sharp now, and he guessed there were other words she could have chosen. Idiot was fairly mild to what he'd heard from her before, although never about her boss.
He looked out of the windscreen and saw their reflections in the glass. "I guess I am."
She looked a little surprise at his lack of denial, or excuse.
"You want to explain why you decided to call it off? I suspect it's something to do with trying to 'protect' me, or making it easier to work together. However, I can't say that it's worked," she said, her voice snappish.
Hotch let go of the steering wheel and turned to her to look at her properly. "I didn't like the fact that I hadn't protected you." It was a confession. "I thought that by ending it, I'd start to feel that you were a colleague again."
Her eyes were defiant, and he knew he wasn't the one in control here. "Hotch, you haven't felt that way since the compound and Cyrus showed me the sole of his boots." There was a certain amount of humour in the words, as there was truth also. "And, since when are any of our team 'just colleagues'? I had you down as feeling more for us that just regulatory emotion."
She was goading him now, taking her revenge by making him feel bad. He'd never really thought she'd be capable of doing that, but then he guessed he didn't know quite everything about Emily Prentiss. But was he going to get the chance to learn more? Did he want to?
He was silent, looking back out of the window at the trees in front, their branches bare. "I regret saying what I did the other night," he said, after a few minutes had passed. "It's actually more difficult to not be with you, than it is to want to try and protect you all the time – which, I know, you don't need." He had thought about how she would react to these words, or very similar ones, but he couldn't decide on a definite outcome.
"I think we should carry on with our journey," she said, as if she hadn't heard him.
He nodded, putting the car into drive, and steering them back onto the road.
It was a surprise just how long it had taken them to realise Sophie was missing. He'd known they would realise immediately, but he'd expected it to be quicker than this. Her picture was on the news, and in a couple of papers that had gone to press later than others, asking for witnesses from the airport to come forward if they had seen Sophie Tucker meeting a man there.
There would be responses, he knew, but none would tally. It was too long ago for people to remember clearly, and their memories would be jumbled. He had nothing to fear from what they said.
The media was also starting to get wind of what was happening with the missing boy case. Alfie Fletcher's picture was on the front page of two local newspapers, and he was mentioned on page five of the New York Times. The main scandal was of his father's arrest for the murder of Jennifer Keeley, a brief description of the discovery of the body was given, but nothing was said about the BAU's involvement.
He sat back in the driver's seat, watching the hubbub that was going on a couple of hundred metres away. During the night, he'd taken a dog for a walk round, having a nosy at the house where Martha Moore had lived and her neighbour, where they had found the body of the officer who had rather stupidly taken Moore out of the hospital. He'd also found a rather nice place to view from, an old dear's house, who was so impressed to find out what was going on, she'd asked him round for mid-morning coffee.
It would give him an excellent view of any BAU members that might turn up.
His plans had changed somewhat in recent days; he was less uncertain about what he wanted to do, but the desire to capture his butterfly was becoming stronger. He should have had her years ago, and he would have done too, but for the people who blocked his way. He was pleased with how he'd hurt them so far, and the distress he would have caused, but that wasn't mattering than much now. He just wanted her.
Irritation and impatience dirtied his blood and added to his annoyance at the situation. He'd been stupid, driving her away. She'd have been easier to get hold of if she was still at the BAU every day, where he could see her. He hadn't realised just how seriously Strauss and Agent Hotchner would take his threats and the couple of things he'd done to scare them.
So he needed to draw them out of hiding. Well, maybe that wouldn't be too difficult, given how this case going that they were working on. They would start to look for Sophie as well, there was no way Emily would want any harm to come to her, which meant there would be less people around JJ. And there were other ways to move them from safety. He could think of plenty.
"You up for another drive later?"
Morgan looked up at Llewellyn as he came into the kitchen. "Think I'll pass on that for today. Your driving is definitely a good way to lose weight."
Llewellyn laughed, opening the cupboard where the cereal was kept and examining the box. He fascinated Morgan; he had some similar tendencies as Reid, but also had a more reckless side that for some reason reminded Morgan of Rossi. "You need help reading that?" Morgan said.
Llewellyn chuckled. "I can manage. You look at those photos I gave you? Anything spring to mind?"
About ten minutes ago, Morgan had been presented with four photographs, all FBI identity pictures that were used on security passes, along with each individual's name and position. He'd briefly looked at them, but hadn't come to any conclusion as of yet. "I've seen them, and I know all four, but I haven't given it a ton of thought yet," he said, studying Llewellyn's expression. "You're convinced the UnSub is one of these, aren't you?"
He nodded. "They all fit the profile you gave, and each one has at some point applied for a job in the BAU and failed to get it. None of them would have really had the skills for the job they applied for, which made me wonder whether there was another reason for them to want it. Two are currently on leave. I've left messages for both of their bosses, and asked them to call me back urgently."
"What time did you leave the messages?" Morgan said, looking at the photos while Llewellyn began to crunch his cereal. He hadn't bothered with milk.
"Just after three am," he said, waiting to he'd swallowed.
"You don't sleep, do you?" Morgan said with a laugh.
Llewellyn shrugged. "What do you know about them?"
Morgan raised an eyebrow. "David Henessey – works in Counter-Terrorism as a translator and requested a transfer to the BAU; Nick Ridings - works in Fingerprint and Criminal History records training, applied for Reid's post when it was advertised; Daniel Clarke – works in Technology Services and applied for the tech role that Garcia eventually got; and then we have Sean Billington who works in Firearms Training keeping the database updated and applied for the same role. I know all of these in one way or another, and you're right, they all fit the profile."
"Any of them hung around JJ a lot?"
Morgan squinted at Llewellyn. "That's Hotch's line, isn't it? He thinks JJ's the target."
"You don't agree?" Llewellyn said, putting down his cereal bowl.
"Given the fact that Sophie has been abducted, I'd have said it was more likely to be Emily. However, thinking back to the communication we've had from him, he seems to have blamed Emily for getting in the way. What if her getting in the way was the way she made JJ confess to her relationship with Will?" Morgan said, studying each photo more carefully now.
Llewellyn nodded. "Did you see more of one than the others?"
"These two," Morgan said, pointing to Sean Billington and Daniel Clarke. "We saw them a lot, whereas the other two guys were just around occasionally."
"That's good," Llewellyn said. He grabbed his pocket. "Excuse me, I have a call."
Morgan watched him leave the room, then stood up and stretched, ignoring the various shooting pains, and decided now was a good time to see Garcia, and find out if she had any more light to shed on these possible suspects.
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Sarah x