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Where the Blue of the Night
"There is a time for departure even when there's no certain place to go."
- Tennessee Williams
Chapter Forty-Nine
November 10th
The floor was damp underneath him. Later he would wonder why that was his first realisation, coming to the conclusion that his mind had tried to protect himself by assessing the conditions instead of immediately thinking of Emily who was somewhere with Rossi.
Hotch pulled himself off the ground. "Reid," he said, noticing movement from a few feet away. The air was smoky, a spluttering cloud rising above them. They'd been far enough away from the house to avoid any serious injury – at least he and Reid had.
"Hotch," Reid said, coughing immediately. He was standing awkwardly and Hotch wondered if he'd been thrown with the force of the blast. "Fire service..."
"Will be on their way. You okay to move?"
Reid shook his head. "Shoulder... think it's dislocated. You go." He coughed violently.
Hotch nodded, he hated to leave Reid, but he had to press on and find the rest of his team and Sophie. The ambulances would be here soon, and he could already hear more vehicles in the distance.
"Aaron!"
He turned, seeing Emily.
"Thank God you're okay. It's clear – Clark's dead," Emily said, gesturing for him to come with her. "Rossi and I had just taken aim when Llewellyn and Sophie shot him down and he pressed the button. JJ's fine..."
He silenced her with a quick arm around her waist and a deep exhalation of breath. She was alive and fine, apart from a long scratch across her forehead, probably from some flying debris.
The land before them seemed empty, desolate. Everything was still, like actors on a stage that had been directed to pause. Sophie was sat with JJ, their arms around each other; Rossi was bend over Llewellyn, who was lying too flat on the ground near to the house that was now simmering on a low heat. Clark wasn't really there, the explosion his exit out of this life.
Red intermingled with the green between where Clark would have been stood and where Llewellyn was. Hotch stepped over to Rossi. "Is he..."
"We need medics," Rossi said, his fingers immersed in blood. "He's been thrown pretty bad by the explosion – I saw him go up like he was on a trampoline, and the glass that was thrown out from the windows..."
Footsteps banged on the ground; voices began to break the cloudy silence. Hotch backed away, realising that there was ringing in his ears from the explosion. He could see Emily with Sophie, the girl pulled into her chest. A medic was with JJ, supporting her while she walked.
"Sir."
Everything was confused, a blur. There was a sense of relief hovering, and Hotch sank down to his knees.
"Sir."
The ground was still damp.
"Sir."
Hotch looked up, the voice finally acknowledged. "Sorry," he said.
"We need to get you checked out."
He followed the medic away from what was left of Dan Clark, noticing that the bomb techs had arrived, their equipment on, faces covered.
"Hotch," one of them called. He looked at them. "We got the other house in time. And the bull pen at the station."
Hotch nodded, seeing that Reid was being attended to, and noticed a couple of paper bags from some women's shops sitting stagnant on the ground, undamaged.
Everyone was kind of okay. He could relax. Maybe.
...
Rossi stood back as they loaded Llewellyn onto the stretcher. He was unconscious, still, too still. Rossi knew it wasn't good, not that being almost blown to pieces could ever be good.
"Do you need any assistance?" a medic asked him.
Rossi shook his head. "I'll ride with Agent Llewellyn if that's okay. I guess we're done here."
The medic nodded her head. "This may not have a happy ending," she said as her colleagues began to put Llewellyn into the back of the ambulance that had just arrived in the middle of the field.
"Sometimes these things don't," Rossi said. He saw JJ looking crumpled, and IV line being fixed up. He wondered if anyone had phoned Will, and figured that Reid probably had.
The ambulance smelled the same as every other one he'd been in, the atmosphere the same as at every other crime scene that hadn't been entirely successful. He glanced up at the sky, the fast moving clouds carried by a wind he couldn't feel, and some sense of relief fell down on him. It was over. They would be able to go home.
...
Emily watched Sophie being treated for her cuts, a couple of which had gotten infected. Sophie screwed up her face as they were being cleaned and almost growled when stitches were mentioned.
"I don't need to stay in overnight, do I?" Sophie said, looking more at Emily than at the medic who had decided that sitting in the back of the ambulance was necessary, even though Sophie hadn't shown much in the way of physical injury.
"That's up to the doctor," Emily said. She'd spoken to Sophie's mom who was faxing a note over to the hospital where they were heading, to say that Emily had the right to act in loco parentis in her absence.
"I have no broken bones. I might have a concussion, but it can't be that bad because I haven't thrown up and I really, really don't want to stay somewhere on my own again tonight," Sophie said, looking from Emily to the nurse.
"Sophie," Emily said. "If the doctor doesn't say that it's essential that you stay in, you can come back and stay with me. God knows we have enough rooms. If the doctor says."
Sophie nodded, looking out of the window. She was thinner; had probably been undernourished, and some of the cuts from the window escapade looked nasty. But she was in good spirits, her resilient nature her guardian angel. "The sky's moving quicker than we are," she said, her head tilted upwards. "That sky will always remind me of this day. How's the agent who gave me his gun?"
"Agent Llewellyn?" Emily said. "I don't know. He got caught in the explosion."
Sophie lost her smile. "I told him to stay with us," she said. "But he wanted to make sure everything was safe for you and the rest of the team."
"I guess he did. And you shot Dan Clark at the same time."
Sophie nodded. "It was the first time I could. I followed him and JJ through the woods, but I couldn't get close enough to be sure it would be him I'd be hitting, or he had JJ in the way."
"It was on target as well."
There was no smile. "I had to pretend he was a can. That's the only thing I've ever shot before."
"I doubt it'll stay that way," Emily said. It seemed Sophie's future was mapped out for her; her toughness, spirit, quick thinking and now aim gave her the right ingredients to be a FBI agent as and when she wished, age dependant. But there was time for that conversation later. Maybe a few years later.
"I know." It was a sad acceptance in her voice. "Let's talk about something else. How are you and Hotch?"
Emily raised her eyebrows. "You sure you don't want to stay in that hospital tonight?"
Sophie smiled, looking out again at the sky.
...
The safe house felt safer now.
Reid sat on a cushioned window seat, looking out into the night and the darkness that surrounded them. Soon, everyone apart from JJ, Will and Henry would be back for one last night together before they could all go home and have their two week vacation.
"Will's just called," Morgan said, putting his head round the door into the snug. "JJ's comfortable and settled for the night. She's asked if you'll go visit tomorrow."
Reid nodded. "Sure. What time are visiting hours?"
"Any time you want for the boy genius," Morgan said, entering fully. "Hotch and Emily have just got here. They're taking Sophie to one of the spare rooms – the doctor discharged her into Emily's care – and Rossi's driving back by himself via a take out. Llewellyn's in surgery; his girlfriend and his mother are there, so Rossi thinks it's best to leave them. It's not looking good."
They were silent for a moment. It could have been any of them, or none of them, and they would have lost JJ, or Sophie or both.
"You want a beer?" Morgan said, breaking the surface of the water, whose depth they didn't want to delve into with each other.
"I don't think you've asked if I've ever wanted a beer before, Derek," Reid said, glad there was something else to talk about. "And no, I think I'll have a glass of Rossi's wine instead."
"Whatever you want," Morgan said, leaving him be.
Reid continued to stare out at the night sky, seeing the stars and able to lose himself in their identification for the first time in what seemed like weeks.
"Reid?"
He jumped, startled, and saw Hotch and Emily, both dressed in FBI t-shirts and jogging bottoms. He would have laughed at their similarity, but decided that it was inappropriate, what with Hotch being his superior.
"Sorry – I didn't realise you were there," he said.
"How's your shoulder?" Emily asked.
Reid shrugged, a spark of pain still there. "Uncomfortable, but then it has been dislocated, so it's not going to be exactly fine straight away. How's Sophie?"
"Asleep, and I suspect she'll stay like that for a good few hours. She ate at the hospital and fell asleep in the car on the way back. I think she sleepwalked into here, managed to get excited when I gave her an FBI t-shirt to wear for bed, and then collapsed on top of the blankets and had to be folded in," Emily said, rolling her eyes. "Rossi's here with the food. I suggest you come get something before Kevin and Morgan devour it all."
Reid stood up and followed, noticing Hotch lightly brushing Emily's arm with his hand in a soft gesture. He smiled at the sight, managing to avoid commenting on it.
Morgan was taking the lids off the take out containers while Rossi was doling out plates and bowls. It looked to be enough to feed the five thousand, and not just seven bureau employees, but Reid figured a lot would be used up for breakfast tomorrow and Morgan's midnight snack.
Garcia and Lynch were bickering over what ingredients went in a Sex on the Beach cocktail, and Reid decided not to correct them, as it would only result in Morgan teasing him about never having had sex on the beach in any format. He sat down at the table, his shoulder aching more prominently, but he still refused to take any painkillers. Hopefully a glass or two of Rossi's wine would do the job.
The atmosphere was muted rather than overtly worried or relieved. There would be a lot to discuss, but now wasn't the time for any in depth analysis on what had happened. They were all too tired, exhausted, emotionally drained. They needed rest and relaxation. And some time apart, or maybe together in Hotch and Emily's case.
"I heard from Mrs Fletcher a few minutes ago about Alfie," Hotch said as dim sums were passed around. "He's out of danger and should make a good recovery."
"That's one piece of good news," Rossi said. "Another is that I'm intending to go to Calverville Point in three days, so I'll happily escort Sophie home and keep an eye on her for a week or so. If I don't go, Jolene will hunt me down and use my head in a stew."
There was quiet laughter, a small break in the fragile tension.
"That's good," Emily said. "Not that your head won't be in a stew – I'd quite happily prepare the vegetables to be served with it sometimes – but that you can take Soph back. I've promised her she can have a couple of days with me, but then she needs to get back to school and to her routine."
"How about I show her round the academy?" Reid said. He liked Sophie very much, and the esteem he held her in was growing higher after everything she had coped with.
Emily nodded. "That would be great, Reid. I've also promised to take her shopping and out for a meal or two, and Hotch has said he'll take her to the firing range, although we figure she's already better than him, but it would be good for her to have someone closer to her own age for company."
"Then she can have the diametrically opposite on the way home," Morgan said, eyeing Rossi. "She can keep an eye on Grandpa during the flight."
Everyone looked to Rossi, who merely tapped the bottom of his fork on the table a few times and raised an eyebrow at Morgan. "Careful," he said, before scooping up some noodles in his mouth, saying nothing else, although everyone knew they'd be the equivalent of a horse's head on Morgan's desk at some point in the future as revenge.
"Anyone know how Martha Moore's doing?" Reid said, eating a slice of prawn toast that tasted particularly fishy.
There was a brief murmur round the table, which Reid knew he could assume to be a no.
"I read on a file I probably shouldn't have been checking that she's been being assessed by a psychiatrist," Lynch said. "That will slow things down, won't it?"
Hotch shrugged, and Reid felt a little envious of the movement. "It depends. She'll have to have a guilty plea. I expect we'll interview her again in a few months to gain greater perspective on the reasons behind what she did, but until then it's no longer our problem, with the exception of the paperwork."
Shoulders collectively relaxed around the table. It was only just beginning to sink in that it was finally over. They had both UnSubs and tomorrow could go home. Then they'd be a day or so of interviews and enquiries and paperwork, and then it would be vacation time. Reid knew where he should go, but he wasn't sure he was up to it. Still, he needed to get away for a few days at least, and he could always book into somewhere that had a chess tournament nearby.
He wanted some chance to collect his thoughts on Dan Clark as well. There would be lot of future discussion around him, and Reid had no doubt that
"It seems strange that it's all over," Emily said. "This will be the first decent night's sleep I've had in too long." She punctuated her sentence with a deep sigh. "In fact, I could probably fall asleep here right now."
"If you do, I'll eat your share of the chow mein for you," Morgan said, already starting on a second plate of starters.
"No chance," Emily said, staring at Rossi as he started to vibrate weirdly.
"Oh," Rossi said, taking his cell phone out of his shirt pocket. "It's the hospital." He stood up and moved out of the room, returning less than a minute later, his face relaxed and eyes brighter. "Llewellyn's pulled through the operation. It's still touch and go, but if he gets through the next twenty four hours he's got an excellent chance."
Reid felt the fog around the table clear, and Garcia's hair suddenly seemed a lot brighter. "I think that deserves a toast," he said, holding up his glass. "To Llewellyn."
"To Llewellyn," echoed around the table, glasses chinking like notes on a xylophone.
Reid sat back and allowed a smile to form. They'd survived. Only just this time, but they'd survived. Just like they'd always done in the past, and like they would continue to do in the future.