Psychopathy

Chapter 13- The Weight Of A Word

Leaving Prentiss to do the paperwork that he really should've been helping with, he hurried to Garcia's office. When he arrived, he knocked on her door, and in just three seconds, it opened to show the ball of sunshine that was Penelope Garcia on the other side.

"You know you can just walk in, right? You don't have to knock every time," she said as she ushered him inside.

"You always knock before entering anyone's office, even if you don't have to," Reid retorted, and Garcia chuckled.

"Yeah, well, we have good manners, don't we?"

"We're the last two," he joked, and she smiled brightly. "How's she doing?"

"Well, she's talking again," Garcia answered, crossing the room to get the tablet. "Not to me, though. She's just muttering away in some language I don't understand." She pulled out the tablet and made her way back over to him. "But, I suppose, if she's going to talk to anybody, it'll be you."

"I don't know. She might not be ready to talk yet," he responded, taking the tablet from her hands. The scene wasn't much different than when he'd left the night before. She was still in the room with the pole, but her knees weren't pulled into her chest anymore. She was sitting cross-legged, and though he couldn't hear her, he could tell that she was talking to herself while making numbers in sign language. Just as Ciara restarted at zero, Garcia turned on the tablet's volume. "Ciara?" She sighed and stopped counting, pulling her knees to her chest, staying frustratingly silent.

"Why won't she talk to us?" Garcia asked sadly. What was she sad about? The fact that Ciara had been hurt so deeply that she was refusing to talk? Or the fact that she was refusing to talk to them? Reid could understand either point of view. But he truly believed that Ciara wasn't refusing to talk. She just wasn't ready to, and when she was, she would tell them what was weighing so heavily on her mind.

"Because I know what y'all are gonna ask me." Reid and Garcia looked down at the tablet simultaneously. Ciara was looking at the camera, once again cross-legged, nervously fidgeting with her fingers. Reid sighed, looking over at Garcia. He knew exactly what she was talking about. She was worried they were going to ask her about how she had gotten her ribs broken. And she was right. He was going to ask her.

He knew she didn't want to talk about it and that he should let the subject drop. But how could he? When she was nine- nine!- somebody had attacked her so viciously that it had left her with a broken rib. But they didn't stop there. They looked at that nine-year-old child with a broken rib and had decided to attack her again. Reid couldn't drop the subject until he got to the bottom of it. He had to know who dared to do such a thing, and if they had been made to answer for their actions. And if they hadn't, he was going to personally bring them to justice. Ciara deserved that much.

"Well, I mean, I wasn't going to start with that," Reid answered, and she laughed softly, before dropping her head. "Ciara, please, just tell me. Who broke your ribs?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me!" Reid said, and Ciara looked up at the camera. "It matters to me. They hurt you. They broke your ribs. And not only that, but they did it twice! Now damn it, Ciara, tell me! Who did that to you?"

Ciara's eyes went wide, and Reid had to admit, his might have done the same. He had surprised himself with the tone of his voice, and he immediately had the urge to apologize. He couldn't try and force the answers out of her. He was asking about a very traumatic moment in her past, and in the entire time he'd known her, she was never very open to talking about her past or her trauma. He had to remind himself that she'd tell him when she was ready, not when he wanted her to. But just as he opened his mouth to speak, she beat him to it.