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I felt like I was 14 again. Double that amount of time later, and I was back to doing the same damn thing. It’s like my life is taking place inside of a hamsterball and I’m just the ignorant, pitiful little hamster, tirelessly running around and around and around again, expecting to actually get somewhere. Expecting things to actually change. But I just kept looking at the same metal bars spinning beneath my feet. Or in my case, metal bars in front of my face.
Luckily, I was getting some reprieve from said bars because I was out, tracing a possible stalker and murderer. Much better than having to be stuck in a cell with one, though.
Hotch was right; this Robert character was not someone who wanted to be found. Not like he was any match for me. Garcia gave me a general starting point with his last known address and where he used to work, but he hadn’t been seen or heard from for weeks. I casually struck up a conversation with some of his coworkers and previous neighbors, indulging myself in the lies I had to come up with for the more cautious ones. I was Robert’s girlfriend, ex-wife, parole officer, drug sponsor, and hot barista fuck buddy. They gave me an even better idea about what kind of person he was and where I could find him. It was funny to me, that a few of the people I talked to had informed me ‘against their better judgement’ that the FBI was interested in him as well. I acted surprised, as if I didn’t already know that the rest of the team was still going about their profile as usual. They were just hoping I could maybe get to the same conclusion faster (since they didn’t want to get docked for using illegal stalking methods. Funny though, that they weren't allowed to do that, but were allowed to ‘hire’ someone to do that, but nobody asked for my opinion).
After two and a half days of nonstop chatting and moving around to follow his friends and family, I overheard a conversation between two of his previous best friends. They were meeting at 11 at night in a small bar. I sat a few seats away from them, pretending to sip on the cocktail in front of me. They mentioned some new and sort of secret girlfriend. The way they were talking, it sounded to me like they were worried about him.
“He hasn’t told me anything else besides that,” the blonde said.
“And you’re sure? I wouldn’t think that he’d just disappear on us like that? And for some chick?” the ginger questioned.
“I heard a woman’s voice in the background, and he quickly hung up. I’m telling you, that was it.”
If I could get my hands on his phone…
From my seat at the bar, I turned to face the pair. I caught the blonde’s eye, gave him a small smile, and then took a slow sip from my drink, keeping eye contact with him the whole time. Then, I looked away. I gave it a minute or so more of them arguing over what they think did and didn’t happen before glancing back over at the blonde. His eyes were on me, so I decided to cut to the chase. I didn’t have time for the long game.
I hopped out of my seat and strutted over to them. “Hello, boys.”
Both of them looked up at me from their seats, a smile spreading on their faces and their shoulders becoming less tense. I scanned the blonde, evaluating his pockets, trying to figure out which one had his phone in it.
“Well, hi there,” the ginger said. “What is a pretty girl like you doing here all alone?”
“I don’t intend on being alone for much longer,” I smiled, cheeky. I ran my hand along his shoulder and then across to his friend, the blonde, who was my real target. I noticed the rectangular outline of his phone in one of his pants pockets.
“You don’t?” the blonde squeaked. Good, he’s the shy one. That’ll make this a lot easier.
I walked around him to the side that concealed his phone. My hand brushed over his chest and down to his leg which had started jumping.
“No, not really.” I reached inside his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Do you mind?”
He shook his head, eyes wide.
Men, I laughed to myself.
I opened his phone and quickly typed a message to Garcia’s number, letting her know that she should track his call history. I deleted the message, and then seductively slid his phone back into his pocket. Just to complete the sale, I leaned over and put my lips to his ear. “When you’re done here, give me a call.”
I turned and walked out the door, offering him one more wink in my wake.
Garcia tracked the number back to his apartment. Which we already knew was empty.
Fuck. Ok, so if I’m Robert, skipping town for a girl is not usual for me, so I’m either running from something or I’m in trouble. If I’m running, the first place I’d go is to my secret girlfriend’s place, because no one would know how to find me there. If my girlfriend is crazy like my friends think she is, then she’s the reason I’d potentially be in trouble. If I’m the crazy one, then maybe I’m going after Maeve, which we already knew, but then where would I take her? I couldn’t take her to my girlfriend’s house, now could I?
Unless… I could? Maybe they’re both crazy and he’s getting back at Maeve for god knows what, and maybe his girlfriend doesn’t like that Maeve ‘hurt’ her boyfriend in some way? Or maybe she doesn’t like that he’s still thinking about her? Could this be a team effort?
However I sliced it, I had to figure out who, and where, this girlfriend was.
I broke back into his apartment and searched his entire phone again, already knowing there wasn’t really anything helpful there. I rummaged through his desk and random things in his bedroom and still didn’t see anything more useful than the first time.
So I’m dating someone that I feel comfortable sharing things like Maeve with. I’ve known her for a while, and I probably felt an immediate connection or something extra special because I haven’t introduced her to anyone. Maybe there’s something about her that I just don’t want to share. Am I embarrassed or protective? Am I worried that people won’t approve? Is there something different about her than my usual type? What is my usual type? Is she manipulating me into not sharing her? Is she controlling me, compelling me to submit to her? Is it more subtle than that? Could she be the mastermind behind all of this? I mean, his friends did sound pretty worried…
The one question I decided I could try to answer first was his usual type. For the next few days, I struck up more conversations about who he usually dated, and all of their answers described someone like Maeve. Smart, brunette, into science and medicine and stuff.
So this new woman, does she fit this type? Does she almost fit this type, but not completely? Based on what I’ve heard, someone like Maeve would handle these types of things, relationships and such, with a clear head, so whoever this is has got to be more immature. Petty? Probably. What is her role in all of this?
I went back to his apartment, again, to rummage through his stuff for the third time. But I guess they do say, third time’s the charm.
I was messing around in his bedroom when I heard the door unlock. I froze, not daring to make a sound. I peered around the edge of his door and saw Robert standing right there in the middle of his living room. He sighed and then started heading for his bedroom. Heading right at me. I scrambled over his bed and luckily hopped out of the window before he got in. There was a railing just below that I could put my toes on so I could peek into the room. Robert bee-lined it toward his bed, got on his knees, and then crawled almost completely underneath it. I watched in curiosity as he squirmed back out, seeming to have accomplished nothing, and then turned to walk right back out the door.
I slid back inside and dropped to my own knees, needing to know what it was he was looking at. I swiped my hands around on the increasingly dusty floor until I felt it. A small, single finger sized, latch. I tugged and it offered some resistance, but then revealed a pile of pictures. Him and his mystery woman. I pulled them out and into the light, only to notice an outline of dust on the top picture.
A gun. He just grabbed out a gun.
I flipped the pictures over and read a single sentence: “Lovely Diane, 2013.” Of course, there was no last name.
I tossed the pictures on the bed and exited through the window, eyeing Robert from above. I dropped down to the pavement, and made sure to keep a healthy distance behind him. I followed him all the way back to some beat up, abandoned loft, taking a variety of unnecessary twists and turns. At least he was trying to be thorough, not like it was really doing him any good. I watched him cross the street and stood in the nearest alleyway where I could still see him.
He walked in, but after 19 hours of nonstop serveilience, he never came out.
What is going on in there?
My answer came an hour later when a bang went off. It was practically the dead of night, but when it happened, even the few people standing around didn’t seem too bothered by it. If you really wanted to ignore it, I guess you could have just crossed it off as someone throwing a really heavy metal pot on the cement floors. I, however, knew better.
I left my hideout spot and swiftly crossed the street in search of a back door. Turning around to the back of the bruised building, I found no doors, but there were windows. Luckily for me, there was an emergency ladder drilled into the wall, so I could use that to peer through each of the windows. Of course, nothing can be easy, so it took me all the way until the top before I found something. Sitting there, tied to a chair, was Robert, blood streaming out of the hole in his temple. Across from him was that crazy bitch Diane, pacing back and forth with the gun in her hand, and Maeve, tied to the chair in front of her.
She’s pretty, and she looks sweet. Perfect for Reid. Too bad he refused to look at her picture.
I was tempted to just barge in and handle things on my own, but I knew it wouldn’t go as well as calling the team. I convinced some poor guy to give me a few quarters for a payphone I ran to, calling Garcia. She said the team was already on their way.
“She's got a gun, Robert’s dead, and Maeve’s in there,” I confirmed as the stream of agents got out of their SUVs.
Reid started moving in the direction of the door before I grabbed his arm and yanked him back. “Where do you think you’re going? Did you miss the gun and the dead part?”
“I was kinda focused on the Maeve part,” he spat, trying to shake me off. I held him firm, almost digging my nails into him. He longingly looked towards the door, but he didn’t make a move to go. Had he, I probably would have left bruises on his bicep.
“What’s the plan?” I asked, directing my attention to the rest of the group.
It was Reid who answered instead, “Me for her.”
The weight of those three words hit me like a brick, causing me to loosen my grip on his arm. He took advantage of that, pulling his arm out of my grasp. “Huh?”
“I was in contact with Diane before the ride here. The deal is me for her. I’m going in there,” he gave me a pointed look. Whether you like it or not, seemed to be the follow-up phrase in his eyes.
Hotch gave out orders as to what everyone needed to be doing, and what they needed to be ready for, all except for me.
“And you are going to stay here,” his voice was stern and not one to argue with. But when have I ever not argued?
“What? You’re going to let Reid go in there literally blind while the rest of us wait out here? And then when something does happen, you just expect me to stand here?”
“ Yes .”
The look in his eyes shut me up. But they didn’t stop me from looking for the first opportunity to get away.
Everyone was so focused on what Reid was doing, and paying attention to the front of the building, that no one noticed me sneak off to the back of the building. I used the same avenue I’d used earlier, climbing up the escape ladder to the top. I now saw Reid tied to a chair, opposite Maeve, Diane just waltzing around, waving her gun between the two of them. Since they were in a room across the narrow hall, I hoped she wouldn’t hear me as I slowly brought the window upwards. I slid into the room soundlessly, relieved that there was concrete beneath my feet and not squeaky wood. I looked around for anything in the room that could potentially be useful against this lunatic, considering I didn’t have a gun with me, and the FBI confiscated all of my knives. I found nothing.
When I turned my attention back to the other room, I saw Diane with her lips on Reid’s. Maeve and I had similar reactions to the sight, but there wasn’t time to think about that, because the next thing I knew, Diane screeched, “Liar!”
Had I blinked, I would have missed Spencer standing up out of his chair, aiming the gun away from him and towards the ceiling. There was a loud bang, followed by the echo off the roof. Within seconds, another bang went off and Hotch was leading as the team streamed into the room. Spencer was on the ground holding his arm, and I released a sigh of relief knowing he wasn’t dead. That relief quickly diminished as I saw Diane grab Maeve around the neck, gun to her head.
No, no, not today bitch.
Spencer’s pleas for the team to stay back were being ignored, so he spoke up, “Diane, Diane, there’s still a way out of this.”
“You never wanted me,” she said, and I could hear the tears in her throat. “Never! You lied!”
As her grip on Maeve tightened, Spencer took a step forward. “I didn’t,” he tried, “Diane, I offered you a deal, and you can still take it. Me for her, let me take her place.”
He looked so desperate, and Diane’s posture was rigid as she continued to adjust her grip on Maeve, whose head was bobbing around like a bobble head. I started to move in from behind her, steps even and noiseless, like I liked.
“You would do that?” Diane croaked.
“Yes.” The sureness in Reid’s voice almost shook me enough to stop me, but I couldn’t stop now. I had emerged enough from the hallway entrance that the team could see me. Hotch gave me a wicked side eye, but Spencer seemed to be blind, tunnel vision on Maeve and Diane.
“You would kill yourself for her?” Diane’s voice cracked.
“Yes.” Not if I can help it.
Any doubts in my head about messing this up flew right out the window I’d come through. In a single move, I reached around the pair and grabbed both Diane’s hands. I easily pulled them out from around Maeve, turning her to face me, both arms up. I kneed her in the stomach, which left her breathless and on the ground.
But she didn’t drop the gun. The impact of her hitting the floor wasn’t enough to release the gun out of her determined grip like I’d planned.
Whatever Maeve was about to say got muffled by me yanking her behind me. With no weapon, no bulletproof vest, and a psycho with a gun pointed at me, all I could think about was how if I died, at least I died for the sake of two people’s happiness. Probably more.
From her position on the ground, Diane shot at me. My ears were ringing from the sensation and I made a movement to stay standing, but all I could feel was the cool concrete that seemed to be melting underneath me.
The first thing I felt were the chains. Well, that’s not true. I felt the pain first. The pounding in my head, the throbbing in my left side, and then the all too familiar ring around my wrist, surly leaving a bruise. I peeked one eye open, confirming my theory that I was in fact handcuffed to the hospital bed by my right wrist. Right after, I saw faces staring at me, and decided to close my eye again. I was not about to face the team. Not yet.
But, because I seem to have to face things much sooner than I’d like, a deep voice cooed, “Wakey, wakey, Sleeping Beauty.”
With my eyes still squeezed shut, I muttered, “I swear to god, if you came anywhere near my lips to wake me up, I think I’ll vomit.” I squinted open my eyes to Derek making kissy faces at me and groaned. I went to playfully push his face away, but my wrist caught in the cuffs. He looked down at them with a strained face as I quipped, “Well, that kinda kills the mood, now doesn’t it?”
“Chambers-”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Some bullshit about getting me outta prison and it being necessary or whatever. Doesn’t make it more enjoyable,” I gave a tight lipped smile.
“How do you feel?” Prentiss asked, trying to change the subject.
“Like someone who just got shot in the side,” I nodded nonchalantly, “What happened to our favorite sociopath?”
“You just told us. She got shot in the side,” Derek smiled with a shrug.
“Ha ha, you’re hilarious. But seriously?”
“As Diane shot at you, I shot her in the back of the head,” Hotch stated.
“Naturally. Of course, you couldn’t have done that before I got shot,” I offered him a small smirk, “So, uh, him and Maeve are good?” I questioned.
“Yeah, Maeve and Spencer are fine,” Prentiss said, emphasizing Spencer’s name a bit extra, letting me know she, and probably the rest of the team, noticed I’d avoided using it. I just nodded in response.
“Actually…” Penelope said, looking around at the others for what seemed like some sort of approval, “They want to see you.”
My face scrunched up in a mix between a question and disbelief. “ Why? ”
“They want to thank you,” she simply put it.
“Great. Tell them ‘you’re welcome’ for me,” I raised my eyebrows. Hotch gave me a pointed look but I wasn’t really in the mood for seeing the happy couple together after just getting shot for them. I should have been fine with it, him and Maeve were good together and I was over him. I was. Really, I was, but I just didn’t want to see them together, was that really so bad of me? But the look on Hotch’s face told me otherwise.
I huffed out, “Fine.”
Penelope smiled at me, and went to fetch them. The interim before they showed up was painful, in more ways than one. Hotch, Morgan, Prentiss, and I all just waited in silence, the three of them sharing looks I was not privy to, and frankly too tired to decipher. Penelope returned, ushering Reid and Maeve into my room.
“Hey,” Maeve’s gentle voice rang.
“Hey,” mine, in contrast, sounded scruffy, tired, and deep.
“How are you doing?” she asked. Her soft features had a brightness to them, and I could tell that light was probably why Reid was attracted to her.
“I’m doing okay. How are you?”
“Doing okay as well, thanks to you,” she smiled at me. I attempted to give her one back without grimacing. I waited in silence for her to continue. “I just wanted to thank you for what you did. It was very brave and I wouldn’t be standing here with this amazing guy-” gag, “-without you. I owe you everything.”
“That’s very sweet, but you owe me nothing,” I managed through clenched teeth. I hadn’t even looked over at him yet. I honestly didn’t think I could, knowing only days before I’d been on the brink of a love confession to the guy whose girlfriend I just got shot for.
“I wanted to thank you as well,” the voice, his voice, hit my eardrums like a hammer, “You didn’t have to do something like that for her, you didn’t really even have a reason to, and you did it anyways. I’m glad you’re okay.” I wanted to be insulted by the fact that he thought I wasn’t nice enough to do that for any rando, but I knew what he was getting at, so I attempted to overlook it. I finally glanced over at him, which was one of the many mistakes of my life. My heart clenched, and I fought the feeling of water brimming in my eyes. I thought I could do it, but I couldn’t. I can’t sit here and look at them, thanking me for saving their relationship when I don’t want them to have one in the first place.
That thought hit me hard, realizing that, while I’d been convincing myself this whole time that he was better off without me, better with Maeve, I still didn’t want that. Yes, I still believed that he would be better with someone else, but it was the first time I cracked and allowed my real thoughts to rise to the surface of my mind. And it almost broke me.
I swallowed that though and replied, “Yeah, I’m okay. At least we both have matching injuries now, you know, trying to save Maeve and all.” Venom, and what I refused to be jealousy, clung to my words, and I knew the look I was giving the two of them. Both of their faces contorted into a vast mix of hurt, confusion, and discomfort. And while that’s what I was going for, I knew it was wrong of me. Neither one of them asked me to take a bullet for her, I did that all on my own. So I quickly shook the feelings, and the face, and covered with, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I think I’m just tired, and the drugs they’re giving me-”
Morgan piped up, “They didn’t give you any drugs, we made sure of that.”
“Good,” I clenched my jaw, but forced my words to be relaxed and welcoming, “then it’s the pain. Either way, thank you for coming in here and thanking me. It means a lot, and doesn't happen enough to the people in this line of work. Plus, it wasn’t just me, it was everyone else, too.”
Maeve and Reid quickly recovered and gave me a small smile. Maeve quickly thanked everyone else, which I’m sure she’d already done, and left with a small, “I hope you recover quickly.”
“Thank you. I’m glad you’re both doing well,” I croaked. Once they left, another quiet spell hovered over the room. Before anyone could say, ask, or scold, I followed with, “I think I’m going to get some rest.”
The three of them nodded, and left me alone without another word.
The only thought coursing through my head was, I have got to get out of here.
So that’s exactly what I did. It’d been a few hours since they left, and I didn’t foresee any new visitors coming, or even nurses for that matter. I searched the room for anything useful that could release the cuff on my right hand, and luckily, the clipboard with whatever fancy papers on it was by the foot of the bed. I shimmied down until I could grab the board between my feet, and made an awkward maneuver to get it to my left hand. I brought it back to my face and pulled off the paper clips holding some of the sheets together. I awkwardly bent my right wrist to try to aid in the process of picking the lock, but I had to essentially do it all with my left, not like that was particularly difficult. Definitely not compared to some of the things I’d been through lately, that’s for sure. Then I heard what had come to be one of my favorite sounds, a nice little ‘click.’
I quickly got out of bed with a groan, hobbled over to the table with my few belongings, and threw on the clothes I’d been wearing since they retrieved me from prison. They were itchy and smelled similar to sewer water, but they were clothes that were not a jumpsuit or a hospital gown, so at least there was that.
Right before I left, I walked over to the sheets of paper still attached to the clipboard. I flipped the first one around, and wrote two simple sentences on it.
Because I had to. Because I have to fix things.
I left that face up on my now empty bed, where I honestly should’ve still been considering how shitty my side and head still felt. But instead, I kept my head down, my hands in my pockets, and just walked right out the door. Because while their stalker case might have been solved, I still didn’t have mine as neatly wrapped up.