Paranoia - s.reid

Moth to a Flame

Garcia was unable to track where the hack in had come from as Hotch kept Lyle, Alex and Margaret in his office, entertained by Stevie who'd called her mother, terribly concerned for Liz and Spencer's wellbeing.

Both of them were pacing in different directions, the highest degree of fear and worry in their eyes as their faces remained stoic. "Brent E. Turvey, the author of Ethical Justice, said 'History collects; history records; and history remembers. And it patiently waits for unsatisfied minds to discover it.'"

Liz's head snapped up as she grabbed her jacket and gun, wasting no time as her teammates called after her, Aaron soon following her. He got into the passenger's seat of an SUV, staring at her as she took a moment to grip the steering wheel. "Elizabeth, you have to breathe."

She scoffed. "Breathe? How can I fucking breathe? My daughter is gone, my baby is gone." Sobs began to escape her mouth as she fell limp onto his body, arms wrapped around her. "Don't take me off the case, please. I have to find her."

"Okay." He cooed. "Where are we going?"

Taking a minute to recover and wipe her cheeks of salty tears, she sniffled. "Back to the classroom I was held in."

"Are you sure?" She nodded. "Okay."

The drive there was silent as Aaron continued to rub circles into the palm of his friend, attempting to comfort her. They left the car and entered the building with no words, stopping abruptly before he was able to open the door. "I never taught in this building afterwards." Liz told him. "I haven't been anywhere near it."

He gripped her hand with such a force. "Do you want me to go in?"

She shook her head. "No, I'll come with you." He nodded, opening the door.

After the incident that'd occurred in the classroom, the academy had refused to use it, leaving it empty and dark. The only thing present was big writing etched on the walls.

Home is where The Heart is

"Does that mean anything to you?" 

Liz didn't answer immediately, taking her time to thoroughly think it through. "Based on the capitalization of 'The Heart', I don't think he's talking about the organ." Aaron nodded, glad that she was able to help, even with so much running through her brain. He perked up when her gaze changed to one of recognition. "At home, we have a book called The Heart by Maylis de Kerangal. Oh, my god."

"What? What is it?"

"It's a book I lent to Marceau one day after class."

He pursed his lips. "I'll tell the team what we have so far, tell them to work on the previous profile we had on Marceau. We'll head to your house, find the book. See if there's anything in it."

------

They entered the house, the atmosphere not so homey to the younger agent anymore. The hundreds of framed pictures on the walls staring at her, mocking her. "It's through here." She guided Aaron to the book case that stretched from the floor to the ceiling, from wall to wall, completely covered in the most beautiful pieces of literature. Liz trailer her finger along each spine, finally finding The Heart and gently tapping on it before taking it out. It didn't take long for them to notice the fluorescent yellow sticky note protruding out between pages. She flipped it open, furrowing her eyebrows at the highlighted quote. "'The moment of death is no longer to be considered as the moment the heart stops, but as the moment when cerebral function ceases.' What does that mean? I mean, what correlation does it have?"

Aaron tilted his head. "What exactly is the book about?"

"It's about a 19 year old boy who dies, and it takes place in the 24 hours after his death and the aftermath."