My Life Had Stood

Chapter 22: The Soul Has Bandaged Moments

2003:

"Shh, shh. It's all right." A soothing voice whispered while a comforting hand patted his hand. With the hand came the floral scent of lotion. It wasn't rose or lilac, but it smelled nice.

He wondered if he was dreaming. Reaching into his memory, that's all that made sense. He recalled driving to the bar, having a few drinks and whiling away the time. Just waiting for one of the women patrons to catch his eye.

None of them had, so he'd exited the bar after his second bourbon. And he'd reached his van when he noticed her, waiting across the parking lot at the bus stop.

The first thing he noticed was the umbrella she gripped tightly in her hand. Not one of the compact-able ones but the cane-length kind. He found it curious since there weren't any clouds in the sky. The next thing he noticed was how tiny she seemed.

She seemed so delicate. He knew he had to have her.

Licking his lip, he strolled toward her. His blood pumping in anticipation. He recalled hitting on her, and asking if she needed a ride. Also he made a comment about the umbrella, and that it didn't seem likely to rain.

Unlike the flirting and offer for a ride, that comment was what prompted the petite woman to respond. She spewed forth observations about the atmosphere and scent in the air, as well as the activity of insects: each being an indication that it would rain. At least according to her.

He had scoffed at that, which caused the woman to protest. The next moment, as though nature itself had decided to back the woman, a light rain drop hit his cheek. The woman smiled bemusedly immediately afterwards.

"Guess I was wrong. How about I give you a lift?" James had told the petite woman, as he took in her face and form. Her eyes were brown, though lighter than his, and her hair was also a shade of brown. The smooth strands were pulled so the right side of her face was covered.

"Um..." She grimaced, wrinkling her nose at the scent of alcohol on his breath. "How much did you have to drink?"

"Ah, I can still drive. It's not a big deal." He countered, standing as steady as he would fully sober.

"...twenty-eight people die each day from alcohol impaired driving. That's roughly one every fifty-three minutes." The woman said in her soft voice, pausing briefly to grimace again. James was about to refute that and reassure her he hadn't drank that much when she held out her hand.

"...what?"

"Keys. I'll drive." She said, surprising James. He considered refusing for a moment, but instead complied - he wanted to get her in his van after all. It didn't matter if he or she drove, just that she'd get in.

"Fine." He had handed her the keys and they both headed to the van. It had been simple giving her directions and leading her to where he wanted. Simpler than if he'd been driving.

"Shh. Shh. Do you remember?" The soft voice spoke to him, and he felt her dabbing a cloth against a cut on his forehead. He assumed it was, since each dab stung.

"What the..." He opened his eyes, his vision blurry. He realized something other than alcohol was impairing his brain. He slowly recalled a struggle. "What did you give me?"

The woman hushed him again, ignoring his question until he grabbed her wrist. She gasped, her eyes round with concern. As James squeezed the petite wrist, he noticed that the doe-like eyes suddenly changed. Turned cold and harsh.

His own eyes widened, recognizing the shift as the same as had occurred when he'd attempted to overpower her once they'd parked outside his base. He hadn't realized the shift before, which to his detriment had led to quite a struggle. One he had apparently lost.

"..." The woman glared at him, not making a sound. Instead she grabbed the pinky finger of the hand he held her wrist with, and twisted it. He swore he heard it snap despite the sound of his own shout of pain.

"Shit!" He yowled, letting go of her wrist. Realizing that whatever she'd given him wasn't something that numbed pain. On the contrary, it increased it. He cursed again: using every swear he could think of.

The woman chuckled after his spiel, and unexpectedly climbed on top of him. She straddled him and bit her lip seductively while looking down at him. "Emmie made a mess of you, didn't she?"

The bizarre question flabbergasted James, and he briefly forgot the pain of his broken pinky. "What?"

"I'm Ana." The woman chuckled, rubbing her thumb over his lip. Her demeanor and the name she gave entirely changed from before. He swallowed, wondering if the woman on top of him was fooling or actually crazy. -

2015:

James opened his eyes at the sound of his cell opening. After he'd recuperated from his injuries resulting from his psychotic break, he'd been given a new cell. A single, that was in the protective custody ward of the prison.

"You have a visitor." The guard said, standing at the cell's entrance.

James didn't budge and simply narrowed his eyes. There were only a few people who knew he was incarcerated, and most of them were connected to the BAU. And none of them he wished to see.

"Whoever it is, tell them to f- off." James growled and closed his eyes, intent on returning to his dream. It'd been years since he thought about that day, twelve nearly thirteen years ago.

"James." David Rossi replied and stepped into view, having been just beside the guard. "We need to talk."

James scowled.

He glared at Rossi as the man took a step into his cell.

"We need to talk, James. And we can do so either in one of the private visitation rooms or in your cell." Rossi continued after receiving no response aside from a scowl. He took another step further into the cell.

"What do we need to talk about?" James seethed, emphasizing the 'what'. Receiving an answer, no matter how rude or venomous, surprised Rossi. Ever since James had been sentence, the 36 year old had refused to talk to him.

"Actually, we have a lot of things to talk about. Considering everything that's happened and how much we missed out on." Rossi said, taking James not making a direct refusal to speak as a good sign. "But right now we need to talk about Dr. Morland Somerfield."

James drew in a breath, tensing immediately after hearing that name. The next second he tried masking his response with nonchalance. Rossi didn't miss the shift however.

"...He terrifies you." Rossi observed, his gut roiling as he considered what that fear meant. He should've investigated further and not simply stopped when the letter led him to that old lady. Studying James closely, Rossi caught a glimmer of something other than fear. "...you hate Somerfield."

James glowered, his eyes colder than Rossi had ever seen them. The younger man sat up, keeping himself less aloof. "So? What about Somerfield?"

Rossi noted the loathing tone James used when saying the name. "What did he do to you?"

A bitter laugh escaped James lips at the question, and at the same time he shook his head.

"James..."

"I had a calico kitten when I was seven." James said after a moment, side-stepping the question Rossi had asked. "It was a tiny thing, and I took it with me everywhere. Even to sessions with Somerfield..."

James paused, while Rossi listened quietly. He prepared himself for the expected end of James' story: considering James' crimes, it was likely the kitten had met a grisly fate. The amount of care and brutality in how James had mutilated his victims had to have had a precursor.

"...during one session, Kalic, the kitten, scratched Somerfield." James glowered at the memory, paying more attention to it than Rossi. "The very next moment he brought us both to the his lab. Particularly, the dissection area. 'Do it or it'll be you', that's what he said."

Rossi's eyes widened slightly, the story taking an unexpected twist. "Do what?" Rossi prompted after James trailed off into silence, though his gut knew what James meant.

"...he'd brought me there to dissect lab mice before, so I understood what he wanted. But..." James paused, the next second he shook away his hesitance. "Well, he kept me locked up in that lab until I did it. Four long days..."

Rossi felt sickened and angered, though more at Somerfield than at James. There were no signs of deception coming from his son throughout the story. "Somerfield kept you locked up for four days? What about the Wagners? They didn't raise a fuss?" Rossi asked, his anger at the family that'd taken James equal to his toward Somerfield.

"Mo..." James interrupted himself with a head shake, correcting himself. "That bitch Amy Wagner thought I was safer with Somerfield. Away from Kevin Wagner Sr."

Rossi drew in a breath, his gut roiling with anger. "What about the Room with the box? The prison's psychiatrist said you mentioned it after..."

James laughed mirthlessly when Rossi faltered while referring to the former's psychotic break. "That...why should I mention any more to you? Hm? Will you make sure Somerfield and I are in the same prison cell block?"

"No, James." Rossi replied, noting the mixed signs of rage and fear in James' body language.

"Whatever..." James scowled and lied back down on his bed. "I'm done talking to you."

"James..." Rossi said, not budging from where he stood. The younger man continued to ignore him. "James David Rossi, you will listen to what I have to say." Rossi spoke authoriatively, using his son's full name. It felt surreal, not just saying his son's full name but doing so in such a parental manner. And in such a place.

"..."

"I know, you believe I failed you. And...you're right. I failed to see through Dr. Richards' lie, and I keep asking myself how I could've been fooled. How I could not have known you were alive." Rossi drew in a breath, keeping his emotions stable enough to say what he wanted. "I failed as a father. You lived in the same city as Carolyn and I for three years before the Wagners moved. Just one neighborhood away from us. I...I still can't believe how close by you were back then."

Rossi paused, recalling all that Garcia had been able to glean about James' life as Kevin Jr. When he had learned that the Wagners had lived just a few streets away for the first three years of James' life, he'd been stunned anew. So close by, yet he never knew.

"I can't undo what's been done. Or that I failed to protect you. But, I can see to it that those responsible for kidnapping you and those responsible for whatever horrors you went through answer for what they did." Rossi studied his son, knowing that he might not get through to James. But it wasn't just for his son's benefit that he needed to speak. His own psyche needed this. "But, I'm going to need your help. I need to know what you went through, and who else beside Dr. Somerfield and Dr. Connell was involved."

"..." James drew in a slow, deliberate breath. "...you found out about Dr. Connell?"

"Yes." Rossi replied, slowly comprehending something that he should've realized before. "Tobias Connell tricked Dr. Richards into falsifying your death. And Kenneth Connell, Tobias Connell's nephew, revealed your identity to the inmates here to get them to attack you."

James grimaced, closing then opening his eyes before bringing his gaze back to his father.

"Did you know of either Connell? Or was it a coincidence that Dr. Kenneth Connell was working in the same city we found you in?" Rossi asked. "Do you know if he is connected to Dr. Somerfield?"

James stared at Rossi, mulling something over in his thoughts. Should he lie or tell the truth? It occurred to him that lying to his father or just refusing to cooperate would be a terrific way to get back at Rossi. Yet, the cost would be allowing Somerfield and the Connells to get away.

"..." James glowered, his eyes narrowed. After a moment he smirked though without amusement. "...Somerfield never mentioned the Connells, not by name at least. Not around me." He paused, massaging his knuckles, then his recently healed wrist. "But when I was fourteen, I did overhear Somerfield arguing over the phone with a Tobias. Something about Tobias being greedy and doing things on his own again. And that it was too dangerous to keep using twins, despite the benefits."

Rossi drew in a sharp breath. After what happened with the Fletchers and Ms. Kaurich, he knew Connell had taken other children by falsifying their deaths. But the idea of twins being taken boggled his mind. Was it even possible to falsify two deaths at once without being caught?

"Are you sure that's what he said? That they'd taken twins?"

"He said using not taking, but yeah." James replied nonchalantly, while his brain whirled with what else to mention. "...you know, I'll tell you anything you want to know if you put Kenneth Connell in the same room as me..."

"That isn't possible." Rossi mentioned after a moment. "Kenneth Connell was found murdered weeks ago."

"..." James clicked his tongue, surprised by the information. He then laughed.

Rossi inwardly flinched at the delight arising in James after hearing about the younger Connell's death.