(no subject)
Title: Connections (Prologue)
Author: Spencer Lee
Series: Breaking Spencer Reid
Rating: FRT
Pairing: Gen
Summary: Prologue. The team gets a case with a bizarre victimology, and with it, an unexpected suspect. Now BAU will have to outsmart a brilliant, sadistic sociopath to save one of its own -- but even if they do, will there be anything left to save?
Notes, Warnings, Etc: Blood, not too much.
Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds or any characters depicted herein that you might recognize. All recognizable characters are the property of CBS. And if you don't recognize someone, well, CBS owns her, too.
"Medical leave?" Hotch repeated, staring hard at Gideon out of the corner of his eye. "Why?"
"Wouldn't say," Gideon said simply.
"Did he say when he'd be back?" asked J.J. with a concerned glance towards his empty desk.
"Wait," Emily began, nervously, "he's not hurt, is he?" She and J.J. swapped worried looks. Morgan leaned closer. Gideon shook his head.
"It's psychological."
"Man, I thought something was off about him, lately," Morgan muttered, shaking his head at the ground with a sigh. "We should've known."
"The stress from the abduction must have caught up to him," mused J.J.. Guilt, yet lingering, hovered at the edge of her voice.
"Hey, he's been acting weird for a while," Emily pointed out. There was an almost defensive sharpness in her tone, and Hotch's eyes flickered agitatedly towards her. He knew Prentiss had her opinion, but bringing it into an evaluation of a colleague, however unofficial, wasn't the kind of professionalism he'd come to expect from her. Needless to say, he wasn't pleased when she continued. "I mean, before that happened, he was quiet and docile... but since then he's been confrontational, moody... we should have noticed."
"Reid's stronger than any of us thinks." Gideon took a few slow steps towards the desk and leaned one hand on it, using the fatherly tone oft heard in his voice when he spoke of their youngest teammate. "He'll be all right."
---
Reid had been gone fifteen days, and BAU had spent the first week or so in relative peace, as far as cases were concerned. As for the latter half, things hadn't been quite so easy.
"Hey, Emily, how's the reporting coming?"
She looked up at Morgan and sighed, eagerly taking the coffee he held out to her.
"Just finished up. Lemme guess... we're heading straight back to work, right?" Emily stood from the desk and stretched. "Six days in Illinois tracking a poisoning case, and now we have to work this... please don't tell me..."
"You'll get used to it," Morgan assured her, grinning slyly. She sighed again.
"Knew you were gonna say that," she huffed, smiling in defeat.
"C'mon, it's a local case. Shouldn't be that bad."
---
As it turned out, it really was that bad.
"Let's go over what we know," Hotch suggested. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The team had only just returned to Quantico that day, and everyone was tired. Agent Hotchner, however, was a step beyond. His voice sounded distant, weary; he seemed to be a little different from his usual self. But, he pushed on. "Add the victim from yesterday."
"Is this list of victims for real?" Morgan flipped through the folder again, frowning. He slid the stack of crime scene photos across the table to J.J., who plucked one paper from the center.
"Six guys and only one anomoly, and even that was just because he was barely a year older than the others," Garcia interjected quietly over the webcam connection. "Other than that, they're almost identical--37 years old, worked at the same software firm, all male, similar build and personality..."
"That's some victimology," J.J. murmured.
"We gave local P.D. a profile, right?" Emily asked, turning to Hotch. "They got any ideas?" A pause. "Hotch. Hotch!"
The ever-focused Aaron Hotchner snapped out of his blank stare and looked away from the window, surprised. He started to say something, but seemed distracted, and in the silence, another voice answered for him.
"Our chief suspect is a programmer named Alexander Hatford."
Hotch had never been so glad to see Jason Gideon in his life. His quick, confident gait all but propelled him to Gideon's side at the door, and briefly he paused to check the attached photo. Hatford was scrawny, slightly unkempt, and wore glasses. He looked young.
"Mid-twenties... fired in mid-2006... remembered by co-workers as "unsociable" and "awkward"... a loner... intelligent... possible mental disorder... he fits the profile."
"Sounds like our man," Morgan agreed.
"Unfortunately, Hatford vanished about two weeks ago," Gideon continued. "House is empty. Car is still in the garage. He doesn't seem to think he'll be coming back any time soon." His hands met and he paced, that lopsided sort of walk that signaled he was thinking. "Garcia."
"I'll see what I can find," she told him firmly. The connection broke off with a sharp keystroke.
"In any case--" Hotch was cut off sharply by the shrill clamor in his jacket pocket. Turning and stepping away to let the others deliberate amongst themselves, he pressed the cell phone to his ear and answered with a sharp, professional, "Hotchner."
J.J. and Morgan watched their unit chief while Emily stared at the file and Gideon thought. Normally, they'd all hear a breakthrough analysis or a helpful statistic from their resident genius at this point, but silence yet remained in the void where his insight once was. Thankfully, their business in Illinois didn't require Reid's expertise, but it was only a matter of time before they would be in dire need of his abilities.
Hotch's expression turned stormy, and his grip on the phone visibly tightened.
"That can't be right," he deadpanned. Immediately, his voice lowered to a barely-audible murmur, and J.J. and Morgan overheard small snippets of conversation when his voice turned harsh. "No, he's not... are you sure?... all of the prints?... all right." His voice rose again, but retained a grudging edge at the corners of his professional tone. "I'll tell my team." The cell snapped shut with almost explosive force, and terse silence settled on the room.
Everyone looked at Hotch.
"They've got the prints," he said at last. "From our crime scenes." His voice was dark, almost angry.
"They don't match Hatford's?" J.J. sighed disappointedly.
"No."
"Hotch, something wrong?" asked Morgan. His brow furrowed.
"We've got a name," Hotch murmured, returning the phone to his pocket.
"And that name is?" Emily pressed. Aaron Hotchner doesn't hesitate, she thought to herself. Something wasn't right. J.J. and Morgan saw it, too.
Finally, Hotch spoke again--quiet, dangerous, and painfully sure.
"Spencer Reid."
~
Ten seconds after hearing the news, no one had spoken. No one could have spoken.
J.J. absently looked down at the profile they'd given, watching the paper as though some criterion would change, would lead them away. Morgan stared at the wall. Hotch looked to the floor. Gideon stood still as stone with one hand on the nearest chair.
Emily recovered first.
"Well... what are we waiting for?" she asked. Clearly, she was surprised at the team's reaction. Reid had always seemed just a little off to her, and he fit some of their profiles, this one included. Not to mention, he was at risk for developing schizophrenia. Were they all really going to doubt fingerprint evidence just because they believed Reid couldn't be a murderer?
"There must be a mistake somewhere," Morgan decided. "It just doesn't add up."
"Reid had no relationship with that company," J.J. pointed out. "It would have taken a lot of time and research to find such closely-connected targets. This job doesn't allow for that kind of free time."
"Besides, we'd need a major stresser," noted Morgan.
"But how do we get past the fingerprints?" Emily reminded them. "We started investigating those crime scenes after he left, so unless he's suddenly wandering into our crime scenes unnoticed, there's not much else that could have happened. We should look into this."
"Prentiss, do you really think Reid could've done something like this?" asked Hotch, distrustfully watching her face.
"Anything's possible in this job, you know that as well as I do." She may not have known Reid as long as they had, but she knew criminals and psychopaths. Nothing was out-of-bounds in this business. "And we can't go against fingerprints based upon someone's moral character, especially not in this case. He was on medical leave for a psychological problem, he had to have been a little unstable."
"Reid is stubborn," Morgan admitted in a sigh. "He wouldn't have left without good reason. But," he continued, "he keeps it together, we all know that. And it's only natural for him to want to take some time off after what happened back in February." His facial expression, and J.J.'s, fluctuated almost imperceptibly. His, with concern; hers, with guilt.
"Gideon, you talked to him before he left, right?" J.J. asked, retaining her composure. "Was there anything different about him?" Gideon nodded and at length he resumed his slow pacing.
"He's always been calm, concealed his emotions... when I talked to him, he wouldn't say what was wrong, but he seemed anxious, sad..." Downturned eyes, fidgeting hands, apologetic looks, all flashed through his mind. "It's one of the reasons I thought his taking medical leave would be a good idea."
Hotch looked to Gideon, whose eyes had begun to search that invisible space of thought beyond his vision. The older man was always looking out for Reid, like a father would look after his son, and the two shared a connection that--though visible to an outsider--could never fully be understood. As such, Gideon had gained a better understanding of Reid than most of the team; understanding which carefully set evidence on each side of the debate. Now the unreachable, unreadable mind of Jason Gideon, Hotch knew, was simultaneously attempting to convict and acquit him.
"All right... it's late, and this is all pretty heavy stuff," said Morgan as he observed J.J. stifling a yawn. "Some of us haven't slept in almost forty hours, and if we're gonna figure this out, we'll need focus. Let's just get some rest."
"Wait, we're not just gonna leave this situation as it is, are we?" J.J. asked in disbelief.
"Morgan's got a point," Hotch decided. "If the evidence is right, we'll need our wits about us to put a stop to this. If the evidence is wrong, Reid will need us to be at our best." Gideon nodded slowly as he came back to them.
"All of you, get yourselves home and get some rest," he told them. "We'll get back to this tomorrow." The others nodded and gathered their things. Chairs slid under the table, papers shuffled. The shuffle of Reid's messenger bag was deafening in its absence, and silence struck the group as they started out the door. At the parking lot, they spread out, Hotch to his car, Gideon to his, Emily to hers, and J.J. and Morgan towards theirs.
"Morgan," J.J. mused as they walked, "back there, did you say forty hours?"
"Mm-hmm. Why?"
"Nothing... my number just landed around fifty."
"You won't be driving," Morgan said authoritatively, laying a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. "Let's get you home so you can get some sleep. It's--what, 1:30 in the morning now? You'll be able to get a couple hours." She nodded.
But, J.J. thought to herself miserably, I doubt I'll be sleeping.
---
"Hotch, man, calm down." Morgan's hand drowsily held the phone to his ear, and he fumbled his way into the pair of pants he'd left on his dresser. Beside them, a green "2:30" flashed in the darkness of the room. He spoke as reassuringly as he could. "Just calm down."
"They're gone, Morgan. They're gone and there's blood all over." Aaron Hotchner's voice had gone to a place Morgan had never heard it--cold, deadly, but at its core, terrified. "Crime scene is on the way... no bodies, but from what I can tell... it was Hatf... our UNSUB," he grudgingly corrected.
"Hotch," Morgan mumbled, groping at the carpet for his keys. "Haley and Jack don't fit the victimology."
"I know that," Hotch growled. "But he used the exact same method to get into the house. Specifics."
"Anyone else know about this?" Morgan asked, buying a little time as he kicked into his shoes.
"No, you're the first I've called."
"Why me?"
"I trust you," was Hotch's short reply. "Gideon's next. Then J.J., then Prentiss."
"In order of trust." It wasn't a question.
"Exactly."
"I'll call Prentiss."
"Thanks. Oh, there's CSI now..."
"All right. See you soon, man. And Hotch... it's gonna be okay," Morgan assured him. He pulled the black shirt on the rest of the way and started out the door, keys in hand.
---
"Looks like I was right about not getting sleep," J.J. sighed, falling into her chair with a huff. Six in the morning was not her peak mental hour.
"Yeah," Emily agreed, frowning. "But is this really our guy? They don't fit the victimology at all... and this was an abduction, not a murder."
"Well, he came in through the window, left prints in the same exact places, used the same exact tools, and got away unnoticed. It has to be." Hotch was tense, understandably.
"Hotch, man... you sure you're gonna be all right workin' this thing?" Morgan asked. He looked concerned. He was concerned.
"I'm fine," he said shortly, sharply. "We need all the people on this thing that we can get, without Reid here." Morgan nodded. Touché .
"Victimology rarely changes... but like you said," J.J. turned to Emily, "this wasn't like the others. At all."
Hotch's phone rang.
"Hotchner."
"Come on, good news," J.J. murmured, and Morgan nodded. Hotch carried on another hushed conversation, but stress had pushed his voice to a more audible volume than before.
"All right...Yes, Agent Gideon got caught in traffic, he'll be here soon... And?... Wait, wait, say that again... Twelve days?... You're sure... All right, thank you." The phone closed quietly this time.
"Who was that?" asked Emily after downing the last of her coffee.
"Local P.D.," Hotch replied. "They got a warrant to search Reid's apartment... from what they could tell, he hasn't been there in a while. They're estimating twelve days."
"Which... puts his disappearance around the time of the first murder," Morgan sighed. "Damn. It's gonna be hard to get our boy outta this one..."
"Morgan--"
"Emily, I don't believe Reid did this," Morgan said firmly. "I know fingerprints will beat that in court any day, but still... it just doesn't add up." He shook his head, frowning darkly at the file as if blaming it for the situation. "Besides. Reid wouldn't have any motive for this... he wouldn't gain anything from Haley or Jack's death. Right?"
Hotch, who had been pacing in Gideon's place, came to a dead halt in mid-step.
"Hey, I didn't say they were dead," Morgan reminded him carefully. "I just suggested--"
"No, no, it's not that," Hotch assured him. J.J. glanced at Morgan and back to their unit chief, who was looking rather pale all of a sudden. Much as they all would have liked to speak, the lost expression on Hotch's face put a stranglehold on potential conversation.
Morgan's phone went off and everyone jumped.
"Go," he said quickly, swallowing disconcertedly as he held the phone steady. Gideon entered and looked around the room at his team, sensing the tension that had gripped them.
"Baby, there's something you need to see," Garcia murmured. "Or... or someone, rather," she corrected weakly. "It's big."
"Garcia, c'mon, what's this about?"
"I don't... I, I can't.... I'll patch him through. Turn on the webcam." Sensing the anxious urgency so rarely heard in their delicate tech darling's voice, J.J. quickly did so.
“One more thing, guys.”
“Yeah?”
“Remember how you were looking for a stresser?”
“Yeah.”
“Reid’s mother passed away eighteen days ago.”
“Thanks, Garcia.”
"Welcome. Ready?" Garcia asked. Her voice was unsteady. Morgan looked to J.J.; she nodded, and Emily and Gideon joined her in front of the laptop.
"Yeah, we're ready," Morgan told her. He sounded a little unsure. A keystroke clacked on the other end, and Morgan cautiously asked, "Garcia, what's the matter?"
"I can't trace the source," she said weakly.
"So?"
"You'll see." Morgan stood with the others to watch, and with one last flutter of Garcia's fingers over the keyboard, the connection initialized.
The screen flickered to life. It was dark, but in the upper-left hand corner, they could see the dim orange glow of a dying light bulb. For a moment, silence; then, a voice cast itself from the darkness, seeming terrifyingly close over the speakers.
"It's been awhile, BAU." Distorted, tinged with static.
"Disguising his voice," Emily murmured automatically.
"How astute, Agent Prentiss," the voice said patronizingly. "As brilliant as your deductions are, however, I have business with Agent Hotchner."
Morgan, J.J., Elle, and Gideon turned to look at Hotch, who approached the laptop with a murderous glint in his eyes.
"You have a lovely family, Agent Hotchner... or... oh, I'm sorry, past tense would be more appropriate, wouldn't it?" he crooned, feigning sympathy. "You know, they're so trusting of FBI agents... they didn't realize anything was wrong, at first."
"Oh my God," J.J. mouthed, voice paralyzed in her throat. Emily shook her head, muttering something obscene. Morgan swore under his breath. Gideon sighed heavily. Hotch's facial expression didn't change.
"Why didn't you kill them like you killed those other people?" he asked quietly.
"Oh, I did... I just wanted to take my time. I knew you'd be getting home relatively soon when I took them... you're always right on time, returning to your family, aren't you."
"Why them?" asked Hotch. "Why Haley and Jack? Are you really that focused on saving my job?"
Emily's eyes darted to Hotch for a moment, guilt seizing her in a vicegrip. Had they found out about the meeting she'd had with the Section Chief? Did they know what was going on?
"You know I am. Look... I've taken the distractions, I've given you a case only you and your team can solve! It's perfect."
Silence.
"Aren't you going to thank me?" the voice asked enthusiastically.
Silence still. Then...
"This is not Reid," Hotch said coldly. The others, confused, turned to him.
"What? Oh, come on, Hotch, of course it's me... you know me better than anyone else, you know my motivation."
"I do. But you guessed the wrong motivation." Hotch stared expressionlessly into the webcam. "And this facade of yours won't work any longer, Hatford."
"Hotch... Aaron... I did you such a huge favor, and you won't even acknowledge me?"
"You killed my family."
"I took care of a distraction," corrected the voice.
"You're not Reid. Reid is honest, if nothing else, and doublespeak is just another form of lying. They're not 'taken care of', they're dead."
And then, in the pause to search for a response, a second voice. Weaker, but present.
"No, they're not."
"That was Reid," Emily whispered, landing somewhere between a sigh of relief and a gasp of horror.
"Pay that no mind," the UNSUB growled, ruffled.
"Hotch," said the smaller voice, and they heard a shuffling sound. "Hotch, they aren't dead! They--"
A cry of pain and a dull thud. A hiss of, "Quiet!"
"113... Florence, in Norfolk" Reid's voice gasped out. "Basement!"
Hotch was out the door almost before anyone realized he'd moved. Morgan followed. Gideon wasn't far behind.
"Stay, monitor the situation, fill Garcia in," Gideon ordered as he left.
"Reid, what's going on?" Emily asked urgently.
"I'm afraid," said the distorted voice, "Special Agent Dr. Reid won't be speaking with you for some time." Something hummed, and a small arc of light became visible in the darkness. "Do you know what this is, BAU? It's a TASER. And it's Drive Stun capable."
"Refresh my memory, what does that mean?" J.J. murmured, speaking rapidly.
"Pain without incapacitation. Used when other methods fail," Emily explained.
"I'll see you in a week, BAU," intoned the voice. The light moved to the left, out of the webcam's range.
A scream.
“And by the way... tell Agent Hotchner that his trust in Reid’s honesty is severely misplaced.”
The connection cut out.
Silence, profound and harsh.
"The guys left," J.J. halfheartedly mumbled when she once again found her voice.
"I heard," said Garcia's quiet voice over the speakerphone.
"Okay."
"I'll keep trying to find the source of the video stream."
"Sounds good," Emily agreed.
"'Kay. Bye, girls," Garcia said weakly.
"Bye," they chorused, no more strongly.
A soft clack as Emily shut the phone.
No one spoke until the phone rang again half an hour later.
~
"Yeah, we got them," Morgan assured Garcia. "They're all right....No, only the Hotchners, Hatford is somewhere else....No, Reid wasn't there...Just tell the other two, all right?...Yeah, I hope so, too....See ya." He hung up and started back towards the ambulance, where Hotch and Haley sat consoling Jack. "Hey," he said, and Hotch looked up. "I told the girls everything was cool on our end. Garcia still can't trace the feed, but she's working on it."
"Good, good..." Hotch murmured. Jack had finally calmed down, and Haley looked serene as she held him. They weren't hurt.
"Hotch, we should find out what we can about all this," advised Morgan.
"Right..."
---
"He just sort of... slipped in, and we didn't even notice until he spoke." Haley's fingers occupied themselves with the frayed knee of her jeans as she explained. "I thought he would kill us... for a minute, it seemed like he would. But then, Dr. Reid--"
"Wait, hold on. Reid was with him?" Hotch interrupted.
"So that's how Reid's prints wound up at the scenes," Morgan sighed. "He was taking the kid around with him."
"All right... Haley, how did Reid look to you?"
"Oh, bad," she recalled, and a pained sadness washed over her features. "He was limping, I think he was favoring his left foot. There were some bruises... and he had blood on his clothes in places. He was clean--shaved, hair tucked behind his ears, and all that. He was clean, but he was hurt."
"So... what happened, when you thought Hatford was going to kill you?"
"Well, I was sure we were done for. But then, Dr. Reid told him that he had a... a better idea. I remember it all pretty clearly..."
Hotch and Morgan could see it plainly as Haley described what had happened.
"A 'better plan'?" Hatford echoed, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, think. Why kill the family?"
"To weaken Agent Hotchner and thus BAU."
"Why don't we do this, instead..." Reid paused. His face turned away from Hatford as he glanced around the room. Thinking. Creating. "What if we take them, put them somewhere?" He suggested. "Then, you contact my team and tell Agent Hotchner that his family is dead. You shut off the connection to them for some ambiguous, unexplained reason, then go back and kill the family."
Pause for effect.
"After that, you contact BAU again, explaining that Agent Hotchner made the error that caused you to terminate the connection and kill the family, rather than tell him where they were!" Reid's enthusiasm was convincing, and Hatford fell for it, now listening intently. "He'll be so guilt-ridden, he'll be of no use to BAU whatsoever, and without him, the team will fall apart."
Another pause, to let it sink in.
"Which buys you all the more time to escape," Reid finished.
Hatford nodded.
"That's a good plan, kid... let's do it. But, we need to do something to make it convincing." Hatford drew a knife and turned to Haley. "Give me your arm."
"Is that where the blood came from?" Morgan asked as Haley paused to accept the coffee Gideon brought her.
"Actually," she continued, "that blood isn't mine." She held out her wrist, unharmed.
"Then what...?"
"Well..."
"Why?" she asked, taking a small step backward.
"Just the signs of a struggle..."
"Wait, don't do that!" Reid protested. The seriousness of his tone caused Hatford to pause. "You can't let either of them start bleeding," he cautioned.
"Why not?"
"Hemophilia, of course!" Reid said plainly, as though it were common knowledge. "A single cut and they'll bleed out!"
"All right," Hatford said, nodding. "Thanks, that could have been bad. Good thing I brought you along... for a few reasons," he added, smirking. He seized Reid's arm and started rolling up the sleeve of his dress shirt.
"What are you doing?" stammered Reid, dread rushing into his eyes.
"I still need to make it convincing, don't I?" he reminded him. He poised the knife, checking for the best possible angle. Then he looked to Reid in warning. "Don't I?" he repeated.
"Y-yeah... right," Reid agreed. His arm was positioned, the knife poised, and the slightest whimper escaped him as he waited.
Then, Hatford sliced deep into Reid's arm, sending a spatter of blood onto the wall. Not quite satisfied, he gripped Reid's wrist around the wound and spread more blood across a part of the dining room table. More dripped unceremoniously to the carpet. It all looked exceedingly painful.
"I've got bandages in the van," he said gruffly. "Let's go. Agent Hotchner will be home soon."
"Dr. Reid, are you all right?" Haley asked quietly as they slipped out the door after Hatford.
Reid nodded and managed a weak smile as they crept across the lawn to the nondescript white van parked nearby.
Haley stopped and took a long drink of coffee. "After that, things are a little blurry... Jack and I were both tired, we fell asleep in the van."
"Did Reid say anything else to you?" asked Hotch.
"Only that you would find us," Haley said, vaguely. "And that when we were rescued, he wanted me to give you this." She fished around in her coat pocket and produced sheet of paper, folded to miniscule size, which she then handed to her husband.
Hotch met her eyes and he didn't look away. She didn't, either.
"These aren't the only papers you planned to hand to me tonight, were they."
Morgan, catching the hint in Hotch's tone, stood and walked away, joining Gideon on the other side of the lawn. Haley sighed.
"I'm sorry, Aaron. But... this doesn't change things."
"I know," he said, nodding. "I know."
"They're on the kitchen table at home." She looked down at Jack. "And we discussed this before we got married. It'll be a nice, clean break. You're an attorney, you know what happens when these things get messy." He nodded. "So, starting tomorrow I'll start checking personal ads--"
"No," he said suddenly. "Don't do that... I'll start looking for a new place. You and Jack stay in the house." She looked back up. He was serious.
"Aaron," she started to protest. He shook his head, and spoke sincerely.
"Regardless of the circumstances or cause, at the end of all this, you get custody of Jack, and he loves that house. A new environment won't be good for his development... I want you two to stay there. I'll look around." He reached down to brush a bit of dust from Jack's shoulder. "It's all right, really."
At length, Haley nodded, and quietly said, "All right." Hotch managed a smile.
"Aaron?"
"Hmm?"
"When did you figure it out?"
"Oh... I've known for a while."
Her affair... well, after a time, she had stopped trying to cover it up. But he already knew by then. She knew he knew. And the past few months had just been leading up to this.
"So," she mused, "Do we call it 'Irreconcilable Differences', then?"
"Yeah," he said with a slow nod. "CSI is still processing your living room... I'll make arrangements at a good hotel for you and Jack," he promised. She nodded. Internally, she winced at his use of the word "your", but she knew he was only being honest. It was one of those things she'd always loved about him, really.
"Thank you, Aaron."
"Of course." A shared gaze, speaking words they couldn't say. "Well... I'd... better go help them finish this up." He helped her to her feet and glanced to the others.
"It's been fun," she sighed, smiling.
"I know you'll take good care of him." Hotch glanced at Jack, sleeping soundly in his mother's arms. He would get visitation, he knew, but with the job, there was always uncertainty.
"I know you'll take good care of him," Haley countered, eyes flickering to the folded paper in Hotch's hands.
So, she knew...
"I love you, Haley."
"I love you, too, Aaron."
Jack slept peacefully between and beneath this last exchange, as if the words were meant to lose their meaning halfway and simply drift down to him, their last connection, an innocent bridge in the gap they'd made between themselves. Gently, Haley placed him atop the blankets she'd wrapped around herself following the rescue, and turned to the man who was, for now, still her husband.
The embrace, warm, wishing the best... and at its edges, there lingered a faded, irretrievable memory, forever lost in the gentle summer breeze that slipped past them there on the lawn. When they finally drifted apart, she lifted Jack into her arms and walked to the car that would take her to the hotel, while he walked away, sparing one last glance towards the two people that had made it all worthwhile.
Things were going to be hard, from here on out. They both knew that.
He headed towards Gideon and Morgan, nodding gratefully in response to a brotherly pat on the back from the latter. Local P.D. had come to get their facts straight; he would have to help. Silently pressing the paper into his pocket, he decided he would read it a little later.
At the moment, he had an innocent name to clear.
---
Hotch shut his phone and turned to the others.
"They've dropped the charges against Reid," he announced, taking a seat at the table. Relief flooded the room.
"Thank God," Emily sighed, shaking her head.
"You know, for a little while, we all thought you'd been right, Prentiss," Hotch remarked. She frowned.
"Yeah... I was afraid of that, too." Her voice was quiet, sad.
She thought back to the day before--when Hatford's comment about FBI Agents had cast everyone's suspicions where hers had been all along. Sure, for an instant, they believed she was right. But that didn't mean she had been happy about it. And the look Hotch was giving her sure was implying that she had.
She couldn't tell them that her compartmentalization had faltered the night before. Couldn't tell them how much she'd felt like a traitor, how little she'd slept. How she'd cried. They couldn't know--no one but J.J., who had reassured her. And J.J. wouldn't tell. They agreed that she had to be impartial, mediating Emily Prentiss, and that was that.
So she donned her mask and took the stage.
"Hey, they matched those partial prints from the first and fourth scenes to Hatford, right?" she asked, checking the file again.
"Yeah." Morgan nodded. "He's their chief suspect, now."
"Great." She looked slightly cheered by this. "So, what now?"
"We wait," Gideon decided. "We've taken all the evidence we can, we've confirmed the identity of our UNSUB, and we know he has leverage. Now we wait for him to contact us again."
"Gideon, he's got Reid," Morgan reminded him.
"The way Haley described his behavior, he's insecure." Gideon's heavy pacing resumed, and his voice drifted into objective observations. "Hatford needs reassurance.... he's unsure of himself. He faltered when Hotch called his bluff." Hotch avoided the questioning glance from Prentiss--he knew she remembered his comment about motive, and he knew he couldn't run forever. But he could run for now. He focused on Gideon, and didn't have to look to know she'd done the same. Waiting. "He'll contact us again, because he wants to be better than us."
"What about Reid?" J.J. asked.
"Hatford won't kill him. He's a sadist--and his intention is to hurt us. Why, we'll have to find out." It never failed to elicit discomfort from the group when Jason Gideon spoke of things he didn't know. "But he can't get close, so he'll use Reid to do it."
"So we just... wait?" Emily asked.
"And trust," Gideon added, "that Reid will stay strong."
~
"Poor kid has the worst luck," J.J. sighed. Absently, her hand stirred the coffee on the table.
"This is the second time he's been abducted, isn't it?"
"Yeah, but last time the UNSUB was a southern guy with Disassociative Personality Disorder and a revolver, who was keeping him in a shack in a cemetery. And the UNSUB--or actually, the UNSUBs--were a kid, a religious nutcase, and an angel, who drugged him, beat him, and held a gun to his head respectively." Emily swiveled on the stool, frowning. "This one has a TASER, a cement basement, and Lord only knows what else. And he's a tech genius--better than Henkel was."
"Yeah, well, he's no Tech Goddess," Garcia grumbled, ruefully sipping her latte. J.J. couldn't help but release a lighthearted laugh, and patted Garcia's shoulder.
"There, there, Penelope. We know you're the best," J.J. assured her.
"Well... I probably shouldn't know too much about this case, considering... but, how's everything else?"
"Same as always," J.J. said with a shrug. "Except Hotch's marriage."
"Should've guessed."
"He's been talking about you, this week," Emily noted, and got a laugh.
"He has?"
"Yeah... oh, my cell," J.J. noticed, drawing it from her purse and answering as she stepped away from the group. Garcia's rang a moment later, followed by Emily's.
"I suppose this is business."
"It is," Emily told her, disposing of her empty coffee cup and shouldering her purse almost instantly.
"Sorry to cut this short!" Garcia called, already touching the sidewalk.
"Wait, what is it?" she asked, concerned.
"The UNSUB is going to stream us another video in forty-six minutes," J.J. informed her, sweeping her purse up from the chair.
"Well, thank God, it's been almost a week since the first one, right?"
"Yeah. This is big. Oh, but, it's been nice seeing you again!" J.J. looked apologetic.
"Always. Hey, J.J., one more thing."
"Yeah?" The blonde paused on her way out the door.
"Tell Emily that whatever's bothering her, she shouldn't let it get to her."
"Huh? Oh, uh... sure... see you!"
"See you!"
"You make a nice redhead, by the way!" J.J. called through the window. Another laugh, accompanied by a wave, and she noticed that J.J. had smiled. Success!
With the three of them gone, she sat back in her chair and took another sip of coffee, shaking her head sadly at the whole thing.
"Poor kids have the worst luck," she sighed.
~tbc