Sam looks up as a guard opens the door and escorts his prisoner inside.
Prophet meets his eyes as he enters the room, and there's recognition in the man's gaze as he tilts his head in acknowledgment-or greeting-Sam's not entirely sure which.
"Agent Cooper," the inmate drawls. His tone is mild, almost conversational as he takes a seat, though his eyes are guarded, and the way his chair slides back to put even more distance between the two of them feels far too calculated to be anywhere near as casual as he seems to be going for.
The distance puts the man a couple inches out of arm's reach for Sam specifically. That aside, the agent doesn't miss the way the man's shoulders loosen up just a fraction as that distance settles between them.
There's still tension there, tension that was largely absent when Sam was last here with Jason, at least as long as Sam didn't get too close, but that could easily be chalked up to the fact that Prophet had apparently been consulting for the other agent for a couple of years now-he'd only just met Sam a few months ago, and that just the one time.
Prophet leans back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest, waiting. His expression is carefully neutral, and it occurs to Sam that while Jason's initial introduction might have gotten the inmate to agree to sit down with him, building some kind of working relationship with the man was up to him.
He decides to follow Jason's lead. "Thank you for seeing me," he says.
Prophet shrugs. "Not much else going on," he says. "Arts and crafts isn't till this afternoon."
Sam isn't expecting the joke any more than he's expecting the dry tone that accompanies it. The amused huff of air that escapes him in response is the right one, though, or so it would seem, because something in the other man loosens just a little bit more.
"All the same, I appreciate it." Prophet tilts his head in acknowledgment-Sam doesn't need to say more. The man's taking a risk, helping them. If any of the other inmates found out, it could mean serious trouble for him. "Got an interview I'd like you to take a look at. I'd like to know what you think."
Prophet's eyebrows furrows. "You want a general opinion, or something specific?" he asks. "I'm gonna assume, since you're asking me, the guy your interviewing's done time."
Sam nods. "Suspect did time here, actually. Got out last year, so the two of you may have crossed paths."
Sam doesn't offer any more. He has his own thoughts on the interview-and the suspect himself-but this is just as much about getting an idea of what the other man's capabilities are as it is about the case. He'd been more useful than Sam could have hoped last time, but this is an entirely different situation.
Prophet's eyes narrow as Sam leans over and reaches for the computer bag on the floor beside him, and while he probably could have offered the man more of a warning, he wants to get to know the man's limits every bit as much as his abilities.
He comes back up with the laptop, opens it, and brings up the video file before turning it around so Prophet can see. When the man doesn't make any effort to start the clip, Sam reaches around and does so himself.
Prophet's eyes follow the path of his hand until the interview catches his attention. Sam doesn't miss the recognition that flashes in his eyes-he knows the man in the interview-or the deepening interest as the interview goes on. He doesn't comment though, and Sam's content to wait until the video's finished to press for an opinion.
Prophet almost chuckles as the interview comes to a close. Shaking his head, he turns his attention back to Sam. "Timmy the Shark is harmless," he says. "All bluff and bluster. Brother's lying through his teeth."
"Why would he say he did it?" Sam asks. "He signed a full confession. He could go to jail for murder."
Prophet shrugs. "Murder's not bad. Gives people pause before they decide to hassle you. In this case, though, he probably owed somebody a favor. Maybe Nico, or Cliff. They're both out, and the three of them all ran together with Harry and his gang before their release."
"And he'd do time for murder for one of them?"
"Or they'd get so far in a trial before it came out that he actually had an alibi for the night in question and it gets thrown out. Either way, if he ends up back in Harry's not going to let something happen to his baby cousin."
"And the people you think he might have owed a favor? Nico?"
"Nico Carloni or Cliff Edwards. Might be covering for one of them directly, or it could be a friend-of-a-friend type situation."
The door opens behind Sam, and he figures Derek's finally finished jawing with the guard at the front desk about whatever game he watched yesterday and decided to join them.
There's a two-fold purpose for the man coming with them: Derek wasn't particularly happy to hear that Prophet had agreed to see both Jason and Sam on that last case after refusing to work with him again, but Sam also wants to see how the inmate will react to the presence of someone he's already made it clear he doesn't want to work with.
The room goes cold, and though Prophet never so much as blinks as he looks up, Sam can practically feel the unease rolling off the man in waves. His posture remains almost defiantly casual, but there's no doubting it: Prophet is not remotely pleased by the other man's arrival.
"Mister Simms," Derek says, shoving his hands in his pockets and offering up an insincere smile as he crosses the room to join them.
"Agent Fletcher," Prophet's tone, while still overtly casual, now carries a sharp edge of an undertone. His attention lingers on the other agent as he approaches.
Sam finds it interesting that while Prophet had apparently felt no qualms about adjusting the distance between the two of them earlier to keep him out of Sam's reach-maybe him out of Prophet's, though that seems unlikely-he makes no move to do the same with Derek even as the man crosses his arms and casually settles on the side of the table that has up until now far served more or less as a barrier between agent and inmate.
Prophet tilts his head back so he can see the man currently looming over him, and Sam has a brief moment to wonder if it's pure arrogance on Derek's part to put himself within easy arm's reach of someone who had beaten another man to death with his bare hands, even if that man had been a child molester, and even if Prophet currently seems to be fully in control of the temper that had allegedly gotten the better of him that day.
"Prophet thinks he might be covering for someone else," Sam offers in an attempt to distract his fellow agent-Derek seems like he might almost be trying to make a point by invading the other man's personal space so casually, and the tension is slowly but steadily starting to build in Prophet's shoulders.
"Is that so?" Derek doesn't take his eyes off Prophet, which, given the lack of distance between the two of them, is probably a wise choice on his part, but there's something in his reply that the inmate doesn't seem to care for.
Sam's not sure he cares for it either, but Prophet is practically vibrating with tension by this time, and Derek may or may not be goading him on. Sam's starting to think, though, that he's intentionally pressing the other man's buttons.
He seems fairly confident Prophet won't try anything, at least not yet, so Sam takes the opportunity to observe the situation-and get a feel for how the other man acts under pressure.
"Gave us a couple names of people Tim might owe a favor. Both inside and out."
"Awfully helpful, isn't he?" Derek quips, his grin mocking. He's half turned so he can see both Prophet and his fellow agent at the same time, leaving his balance a little off, and though Prophet hasn't so much as shifted in his chair since Derek sat down, Sam can't dismiss how easy it would be to take advantage of the other agent's precarious perch.
Derek shifts, just a little, and Prophet's eyes darken. Whatever Derek's doing, Sam is suddenly worried he's taking it too far. He's pretty sure he can handle Prophet if things get physical, but there's enough distance between them that if Prophet snaps and decides to try something with Derek, he's fully capable of doing a good bit of damage in the time it will take Sam to reach them.
Prophet's eyes flicker briefly in Sam's direction, just long enough that he doesn't miss the sudden flash of alarm in them, and Sam realizes too late he's shifted so as to be ready if something does happen, and that he might have just escalated the situation.
Sam forces himself to relax. "Anything else you can tell us?" he asks, hoping that if they can get back to the case Derek will ease off, and Prophet will calm down. "Anything we can use for leverage against Timmy the Shark?"
"They call him Timmy the Minnow behind his back," Prophet offers, gaze coming to rest on some imaginary point halfway between Derek and Sam, most likely so he can keep an eye on them both at the same time. "He's only brave as long as he thinks he's protected by one of his gang. If you can convince him he isn't, he'll crumble fairly quickly." He can't quite keep his eyes from flickering back toward Derek, however briefly. "He thinks Nico and Cliff have his back out there, Harry in here. Doesn't really have any friends at the station though, if you take my meaning."
"No one to watch his back," Derek suggests, and while Sam wasn't exactly unaware that the other agent had a reputation for being more than a little rough when it came to handling suspects, it only now just occurs to him to wonder if that reputation has anything to do with the current situation.
"Exactly," Prophet jerks his head in a terse nod. "Not that I'm suggesting you take a phone book along with you on your next interview..." he trails off, and there's something in his tone that suggests he thinks they might do just that.
Derek grins. "We don't use phone books anymore," he jokes, and something in Prophet's jaw twitches as the man leans closer as if sharing a secret. "They don't really like it when we leave bruises, you know."
Prophet lets out a breath, a long, slow exhale through his nose, and his shoulders suddenly drop. The sudden looseness in the man's frame surprises Sam until he realizes what it means. "Different world out there." The statement could have been simply idle comment.
Derek chuckles, seemingly unaware of the sudden danger. "Sure is."
He's up off the desk in the same second Prophet moves, using the momentum to shove the man off balance. The chair goes flying at the same time the inmate goes down. Derek barely dodges what truly would have been a vicious kick-there was enough force behind the attempt that Prophet could easily have broken something had it connected.
By the time Sam's on his feet the scuffle's over and Derek has the other man pinned. Prophet has gone very still in a way that makes Sam uneasy as he approaches, but as he kneels beside the man and their eyes lock, that unease shifts completely into something else.
The rage he's expecting-the kind of rage one might expect of a someone capable of beating a man to death-is completely absent. No longer guarded, Sam can read the emotions in the man's gaze clearly, and he's absolutely certain he does not care for what he sees.
Fear is at the forefront, strongest and most prevalent. Desperation follows closely behind. Deeper, further back in concession to the urgency of the first two, are resignation, frustration, and just a hint of accusation.
"Agents?" Sam doesn't have to turn to realize they've attracted the attention of several guards. The Prophet's brown eyes are still boring into Sam's soul, and as the seconds tick by, resignation takes center stage.
"Lunged at me," Derek says easily from where he has the other man pinned, though in the second he says it Sam realizes that Prophet had done no such thing-Prophet had been moving away from the agent, or he wouldn't have gone sprawling in quite the same way when Derek tackled him. "Had this on him." He nodded toward a spot on the floor, just out of reach.
Sam hadn't even seen the shiv.
The guards exchange glances. One of them approaches carefully, one hand on his baton. He comes to stand beside Sam, gesturing for him to move back with a nod.
"Okay, let's make this nice and easy, huh?" The guard says to Prophet, grip tightening around his baton. "Agent Fletcher's gonna let you go, and you're just gonna stay right where you are for a minute, got it?" A jerk of the head, barely a nod, but apparently it's enough to satisfy the guard. "Let him go-" Derek obliges, stepping back out of the man's reach for the first time since he'd sat down, and the guard turns his attention back to the man on the floor.
"Now, Agent Fletcher's going to step outside while you calm down." The guard continues, tone conversational in spite of the white knuckled grip he currently has on his baton. He nods toward the door.
Fletcher rolls his eyes, but heads for the exit.
"You want Agent Cooper to leave too?" the guard asks, and gets a minute shake of the head in response. "You wanna sit up?"
Prophet nods, pushing himself almost gingerly off the floor, and the guard takes a step back.
"We good?"
Another nod. The guard turns to Sam. "You done talking to him, or you got more you want to ask?"
Prophet spares the guard a wary glance before turning his attention back to Sam. His expression, when he does, is carefully blank.
"Give us a minute?" Sam asks. The guard eyes Prophet for a moment, almost as if sizing him up, then shrugs.
"Sure."
The guards leave the two of them alone. Prophet watches them go almost idly, but shows no inclination towards getting up off the floor even after the door closes behind them. He might almost have forgotten Sam was here by the way he tracks the guards' departure, but then Sam shifts and suddenly Prophet's eyes are once again boring into him and the man is once again sizing him up-this time as a potential threat.
"You hurt?" Sam asks, taking a step back and shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. The guards had given the man what he had needed most, Sam realized-room to breathe, a moment to collect himself, a known variable he could latch on to among a sea of unknowns-but now it's just the two of them, and Sam has to figure out where to go from here.
A quick shake of the head that might have been a dismissal rather than a negative, but it doesn't seem like a good idea to risk pressuring the man again so soon, so Sam lets it drop.
Prophet climbs to his feet, albeit somewhat warily and more than a little stiffly. Crossing his arms over his chest, he too moves to put space between the two of them, stopping only when the wall behind him brushes his shoulders, impeding any further progress. The man is still eyeing Sam as if he's a possible threat, and if there's a way past everything that just happened, Sam has to convince him he's not.
He can figure out whether it's worth getting past later, once he has the time to think about it, but he can already tell that if he doesn't do something now there won't be the option to fix it later.
"Derek was out of line," he says, testing the waters, but Prophet's expression remains closed. Sam usually doesn't have trouble reading people, but the blank mask the man's currently wearing makes even his previous interactions with the other agent look downright friendly, and Sam's getting nothing.
"Hadn't noticed." It's a bold-faced lie, and though the man's expression never wavers, he can't quite keep an undercurrent of accusation out of his tone, as if Sam were responsible for the other agent's behavior and, consequently, the entire incident that had just taken place.
Well.
Sam had stood there and let it happen. He had known the man was on edge. Had known because Jason had warned him that the guy didn't like people in his space, certainly, but also, he had seen the results of someone getting too close himself. He had also known that Derek was invading his space intentionally; hell, he'd practically been baiting the man.
"That why you won't work with him?" Sam asks. He'd already figured it was something like that, and frankly, based on what he'd seen today, he doesn't blame Prophet for not wanting to put himself in that kind of situation again.
"No."
The blunt disagreement catches him off guard. His surprise must be pretty obvious, because Prophet shrugs.
"Figured there was no point in tempting fate, after I was lucky enough to survive the first time," he says cryptically, and if the comment is meant as an explanation, it does absolutely nothing to clear things up.
"You helped him find a missing girl."
"I helped him find my at-the-time cellmate's missing girlfriend," Prophet corrects, shifting to lean more comfortably against the wall. "Between his lawyer telling him they'd found the girls and your friend letting it slip that he was a fed, brother got suspicious."
Sam feels his eyebrows lift at the revelation. "Yeah?" There hadn't been much in Derek's report, not where Prophet was concerned, just that he'd agreed to pass on anything his cellmate said that might help find the missing girls.
Prophet's left shoulder twitches in a half shrug. "Doctor said I got lucky. Shiv missed my kidney by about half an inch."
Sam doesn't miss the challenge in the other man's eyes any more than he overlooks the way he's shifted as if to brace himself in the event that the agent before him takes offense at what he's not quite suggesting.
It was unlikely Derek was actively trying to get Prophet killed. Possible though, that Derek simply hadn't cared about the risk the inmate had taken. It was also possible, knowing what Sam did of Derek, that the man had intentionally let the fact that he was a fed slip in retaliation for something Prophet had said or done that he hadn't liked, thinking that at worse he might end up taking a beating, maybe ended up with some bruises or a broken bone. And if Prophet had been killed-
Unintentional or not, Derek wasn't the kind of guy to lose sleep over the death of a convicted felon, even if that felon had helped save the lives of not just the woman he had been looking for, but three more women they hadn't even realized were being held captive as well.
"Fair enough," Sam says. "I shouldn't have brought him along." He doesn't offer an apology, though he is willing to concede that it was a mistake. "If I'd known he was going to act like that, I wouldn't have."
Prophet takes a long moment to consider this, and though his expression remains carefully neutral, his eyes darken again.
"I'm not going to attack a fed," he says at last. "Even if I wanted to, I'm not an idiot."
"No chance of you losing your temper?" Sam shoots back, because he's read the report, and he knows what Jason said, but he needs to know for himself.
Prophet snorts. "He molest any kids?" he asks, even as he looks away, breaking eye contact for the first time since they've been left alone.
"No," Sam admits.
"Then no." Prophet shakes his head, and by the time he looks back at Sam, his expression is once again clear. "I don't like people behind me, or too close," he admits. "I don't know if you've noticed, but we're in a prison. If someone's close enough to reach out and touch you they're also close enough to stab you."
"And it's easier to get that close without you noticing if they're behind you." Prophet nods.
"And losing your cool when someone does get that close is counterproductive even if they're not a guard-or a fed. Besides, doesn't really make me angry so much as nervous," the man admits.
Parameters are being redefined, the rules of engagement set, boundaries laid down. Sam might be able to salvage this after all. Prophet seems at least seems willing to give him the opportunity to do so.
"He won't be back," Sam offers. "I'll make it clear you're under no obligation to interact with him."
Prophet nods. "Appreciate that." Something in the way he's holding himself seems to ease, if only slightly.
"Will there be trouble for you? After we leave?"
Prophet shrugs. "Nothing worth worrying over."
Sam spares a brief moment to wonder what the other man does consider worth worrying over. Other than getting shanked again, obviously.
"Anything else you wanted from me?" Prophet asks, after a moment, and Sam takes that as another sign that the man is willing to continue working with him, or at least not unwilling. He takes a moment to mentally review the case before answering.
"Anyone else Timmy the Shark might owe a favor?"
Prophet frowns, thinking. "No one else comes to mind, but-" the frown deepens. "I think he's got a wife. Maybe a couple of kids. I think Nico offered to see how they were doing when he got out."
"A threat?"
"Most likely in case they were struggling. But either way, the family could have provided incentive. Either to repay a debt, if Nico did something to help them out-"
"Or to keep them safe, if he threatened them," Sam finished. "What about the other guy? Cliff?"
"It's possible. They both got out before he did."
"One seem more likely that the other?" Sam presses.
"Not really." Prophet shifts his weight, pushing off the wall just enough to roll his shoulders before resettling, which Sam reads more as him trying to ease some of the tension still running through his frame than an evasion tactic. "Either guy, either option is possible."
"Anything else?"
Prophet thinks for a moment before shaking his head. "Just that Timmy the Shark didn't do it."
"And that while it could be either Nico or Cliff, it could also be someone they were doing a favor for," Sam reiterates, and gets a nod for his trouble.
"Or someone in Harry's gang that one of them were doing a favor for," Prophet adds. "That's Harry Johnson, and yes, that is his name. The other guys he hangs out with are Mike Bell and Wendell Harris."
Harry Johnson. Mike Bell, Wendell Harris," Sam repeats. "Anything else?"
Another shake of the head
"Thanks for meeting with me." Sam briefly considers the man before him. "And for seeing it through. I meant what I said. You won't see Derek again."
He gets a slight dip of the head in acknowledgment, but can tell the man's fast approaching some sort of limit. Given what he's already been through today, Sam's not particularly interested in testing said limit.
He can feel Prophet's eyes on him as he turns and heads toward the door, and something about the way the man's gaze is practically boring into the back of his head makes him suddenly feel like he's missed something.
He turns when he reaches the door and pauses, waiting to see if whatever it is he's missed will reveal itself. Prophet's still staring-his expression is still guarded but there's something in his eyes that holds Sam where he is for another moment as the man before him fights some internal battle.
He can see clearly the moment one side gives in to the other; the surrender is as easy to read as the tension that again spreads through the man's body and the way he braces himself without ever changing position.
"I don't carry a shiv," he says, and the challenge is back in his tone, as is the accusation. "That wasn't mine."
Sam had gotten enough of the man's measure to agree that he was certainly not an idiot. Which meant he knew exactly what he was suggesting, and to whom. He also had to be very aware of the possible repercussions should Sam not appreciate said suggestion.
Sam's not sure why it matters, only that it does, and that how he responds now is going to affect any possible interaction between the two of them going forward.
As to how he's supposed to react-
He has no idea. Prophet's paused, still waiting for something, but damned if he knows what that something is, and time is rapidly running out.
"He won't be back," Sam says it again, but he's pretty sure that's not what this is about. "I can tell the guards-"
"It won't matter."
And still Sam has no idea what the man wants from him.
The moment passes. Prophet shrugs and looks away, dismissing him with a shake of his head. Whatever has just taken place between them, Sam's pretty sure he's been judged and found wanting.
He mentions it to one of the guards anyway, under his breath, and the guard shrugs in a way that suggests that he believes that Prophet wasn't armed, but that it doesn't really matter either way.
Sam also reiterates that Prophet is in no way, shape or form obligated to interact with Derek again, and the guard nods in a way that gives Sam a little more hope than his previous response.
"Wouldn't try to force him anyway," the guard admits. "Prophet's real easy going, till he isn't. He's on edge, it tends to spread around. Everyone around him gets edgy as a result, even the guards."
"He liable to go off? Ever hurt anyone?"
"They had to pull him off a guy once, about six months after he got here," the guard confirms. "But Crews had been hassling him since day one, pushing him. The only reason he finally got a reaction was because found out what Prophet was in for and-" the guy grimaces. "Sat down across from him, started running his mouth like an idiot, asking how old the kid was, whether she was cute. Prophet lunged across the table at him when Crews accused him of wanting her for himself-by the time we dragged Prophet off him he was a bloody mess."
"People left him alone after that," Sam guesses.
"Every once in a while someone new gets it in their head that they need to make an impression. God only knows what makes them think he's an easy target. He's broken a few bones on the rare occasion someone catches him off guard. Reflexes are quick-last time was about a year ago, new guy went by Vic came up behind him, trying to act smart. Prophet dropped him before Vic even knew what hit him-the idiot ended up with a broken nose and a couple broken ribs.
"He gets along with most of the other inmates pretty well, though. Tries to stay clear of anyone who might mean trouble. Got a bit of a sixth sense about that, actually. With the other inmates and with the guards."
"That why they call him Prophet?" Sam's heard it before, but it never hurts to corroborate.
The guard nods. "Got a bit of a sixth sense for trouble in general. There was a riot, a while back-he was out of sorts all day, had all of us on edge."
"But you don't think he was involved."
The guard shakes his head. "Doubt it," he says. "Tends to steer clear of as much trouble as possible, really. Makes this setup a little odd, but he does occasionally wax eloquent about redemption and 'taking the prisoner out of the prison,' so maybe it's his way of trying to make things right."
"You know that if word got out of 'this setup' he'd be dead in less than a week," Sam cautions, and the guard nods.
"Saw what happened with the other-with your friend Mr. Fletcher."
Sam frowns at the comment. "What did happen, exactly?"
"Cellmate shanked him from behind. Rolled him over when he went down and caught him again in the abdomen before we got to him. Nearly bled out on the floor. Doctor said it was a miracle none of his internal organs got nicked, and that neither of his ribs had punctured a lung."
Sam frowned. "You didn't say anything about his cellmate breaking any ribs."
"He didn't," The guard clarified. "Prophet had a couple broken ribs, a couple fractures, and a significant amount of bruising that suggested he'd taken a beating fairly recently, but if he had, it wasn't from anyone here." The guard hesitated only briefly before continuing. "General consensus was that the fed had done it, and that was the only reason Prophet gave him anything. The fact that Prophet's refused to meet with him since only served to reinforce the idea."
He falls silent after that, and Sam is content, for now, to simply mull over everything he's just learned. Later, back in the car, he'll pass the names he got on to the rest of the team and they find something they can use to solve the case.
And once it's over, before he heads back, he'll see if he can track down the doctor responsible for treating Prophet's injuries and see if he can get her take on the incident.
Disclaimer: Criminal Minds: Suspect Behavior is not mine.
Author's Note: My newest obsession, apparently. I'm going to try to get back to some of my other stuff, though, and not neglect it too much. I have part of the next chapter of Open Your Eyes already written, so hopefully I can get that finished and up soon.