LAUGHTER LINES
chapter twenty four
There's only so much a person can do when their hands are tied. Literally.
Gwenevere's first waking moments weren't warm, comforting, and calm as if she was waking up in her bed at her parent's house. Instead, they were filled with chilled bones, a raging headache and the unmistakable feeling of absolute terror. Her hands had been pulled around a cement post and tied with a thick rope. She was missing the wool duffel coat that she had left her parents' house in.
With a groan, Gwen attempted to pull her wrists free but didn't get any results. "This is the last time I drink more than one bottle of hard lemonade and a beer," she spoke quietly. She looked around the basement she was in. "Is this a joke?" This time she yelled, hearing footsteps on the floorboards above her.
The staircase ten feet in front of her lit up when the door to the first floor opened with a whine. Gwen blinked and turned her head away as her eyes burned from the sudden light. Heavy footsteps made their way towards Gwen.
A man? She guessed mentally, squinting as she tried to get a glimpse.
"She's awake," the gruff voice was only a couple feet away and Gwen turned to look when the light was blocked.
"Whoa," Gwen whispered, angling her head up at the massive figure above her.
The heavy footsteps and gruff voice belonged to a tall, built like Gaston, man. His shaggy hair was wet, probably from rain, and his massive arms were crossed tightly across his chest. His head was angled down so that he could aim a dark glare at Gwen.
"What did I do this time?" Gwen asked, not even remotely fazed by the glare. After all, she had faced much worse from the likes of her father when he was in a mood. If anything surprised her, it was the man's own gravitational pull he had with all of the mass he had gathered.
"Shut up," the man growled.
"If you're going to order me around, I want a name," Gwen said, her tone dripping with false politeness. "Why am I tied up in a basement?"
Gwen turned towards the basement door when another figure blocked the light. This time it was a woman. "You should listen, Camelot," the woman spoke. "Marcus is quite the street performer and he has some slight aggression issues that have yet to be hammered out."
Gwenevere's heart rate sky rocketed. It was hard to be sure when she looked at the silhouetted figure, but the voice was more than enough. You don't forget the calm insanity that comes with a voice, especially when the voice belonged to the woman who had nearly killed you as a teenager. "Adrienne," she said slowly, her voice shaking as she felt herself choke on any other words. "So good to see you…"
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Getting up at the crack of dawn had some advantages for a traveler who didn't want to waste the entire day flying from one coast to another, and Spencer would happily get up at five in the morning if it meant being back before dinner, and into your girlfriend's arms.
Gwenevere was going to pick him up and take him back to Quantico for dinner with the kids, and then they were going to test Greg's robot. A nice night to relax and unwind after sitting in a pressure contained, steel and plastic pod for several hours. Nothing could bring the doctor down at this point.
Baggage claim was full of returning travelers from the holiday, and Reid tried looking for Gwen's bushy brown hair. After ten minutes of being pushed and shoved by hurried families, rushed businessmen, and frustrated airport security, Spencer moved to the edge of baggage claim and pulled out his cell phone. He quickly entered Gwen's number. You've reached Gwenevere Thompson. You know what to do.
"Gwenevere, your phone has been off all day. I'm at the airport on the edge of baggage claim," Spencer hung up and looked around, pausing when he saw Scott and Emily making their way towards him. Spencer glanced at his phone wondering for the first time why Gwenevere had her phone off. It wasn't like her. How many times had they gotten phone calls in the middle of the night? More than once, and every time, her phone was on.
"Where's Gwenevere?" Spencer asked as Emily and Scott came to a stop in front of them. He looked at his phone again for a text, phone call, voicemail, anything that would chase away the foreboding that had crept in.
Emily bit her lip and looked to Scott to provide the genius with an answer. Scott rubbed the back of his neck nervously before looking around. "We don't know," he answered slowly, looking at Reid carefully.
Despite the fact that they were standing in a crowded, loud, busy airport, Spencer felt his world grow quiet, waiting for Scott or Prentiss to say something. He looked at one and then to the other, moving back and forth between the two. "Where did she go?" he asked.
Emily stepped towards Spencer to avoid a man yelling into his cellphone about the wrong doll bed arriving at his home in Alexandria. "Reid," she began. "Gwen went out to take the trash, and she didn't come back."
"What happened?" Reid asked. "Why was she out at night, alone?"
Scott shook his head. "Our parents place is in a safe neighborhood. Gwenevere always goes out on her own, and it was just to put the trash bin out." He looked around anxiously and turned back to Reid.
"There's more," Reid said, reading it on his teammate's face. Emily couldn't even look him in the eye. "What is it? Prentiss, what else happened?"
Emily sighed, knowing that she couldn't hide it and he was going to find it all out soon. Emily had called Hotch in the mountains; Rossi was in Italy, and now on his way back. Morgan had a flight out of Chicago in the morning. JJ and Will would also board a plane the next morning in New Orleans. Hotch called them all back once he heard the news. Everyone was coming back to help.
"There was some blood, and signs of an ambush," Emily pushed her palms together like she was praying that Reid wouldn't react too badly. "Two sets of footprints, drag marks, the police think that she was abducted."
Abducted. The word seemed to make the world slow down for Reid. How could Gwen be missing? She knew several forms of martial arts and somehow two people managed to get the high ground, and they took her. He didn't really wonder who had taken her. There was only one person he knew of that had managed to take Gwen before.
"Where's Adrienne Foster?" Spencer asked.
"In the wind," Scott said quietly. "We're almost certain it was her."
"Almost certain?" Spencer asked.
"Gwen's job… It could be someone else. We doubt it, but we can't rule it out. The footprints at my parents' house belonged to two men. There was a third set farther down the road. That one was female. We're checking traffic cameras around the area, but it hasn't been much help," Scott explained. He hated that there weren't more answers to give to Spencer, but he simply didn't.
"What about Lizzie and Greg?" Spencer asked. He looked around quickly, hoping to see them. He knew that Gwenevere's priority had been on keeping them safe. She would jump in front of a bullet to save those kids.
"They're with my parents," Scott said. He blew out a sigh of relief. "They were upstairs when she went missing."
Reid nodded and looked at Emily. "Does the BAU have the case?" he asked Emily. He needed to be there to help with the investigation. If the BAU didn't have it, then he would go to the police and offer their services.
Emily nodded slightly with a grimace. "Yes, the BAU does have the abduction, but not our team. Strauss gave the case to another team because we know her personally. We can't have it."
Scott scoffed and shook his head, a long stream of muttered expletives came from his mouth. He had been told to take a walk after he yelled at his chief. Gwen was friends with virtually everyone in the force. That was what happened when your father was a former chief, and your brother was a cop. It was too personal for the Metropolitan Police Force, so they couldn't objectively approach a case like this. The chief made the executive decision to hand the case over to the FBI's BAU. The problem was this team didn't know his sister; they didn't know how much Lizzie and Greg needed Gwenevere to come back and hug them and tell them that it was going to be okay. This case wasn't being handled correctly, and he knew it.
Reid looked at Scott and knew exactly what he was thinking. He wanted to be the one to find Gwen. "I want to talk to the team that has her case," he said. He turned to the exit. "How long has she been missing?"
"Since midnight," Emily answered. She grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "Reid, your suitcase," she studied him carefully, trying to find out what he was thinking.
Emily couldn't possibly understand the jumbled mess that currently invaded Spencer's head. He was jumping from statistics of survival, possible outcomes, suspect profiles; he wondered what Gwenevere felt at that precise moment. Was she even alive? Why should he worry about a suitcase when someone he loved was in danger?
Scott rested a hand on Spencer's shoulder and squeezed it comfortingly. "She's a fighter. Gwenevere is still alive. If this is Adrienne Foster, she's fighting and she's fighting hard. We'll find her."
"Foster almost killed her," Spencer stated. He shook his head. "What if…"
"Reid, you can't think like that," Emily said hastily. She could see a mix of terror and doubt in his eyes. She had to be there for him. They were friends, teammates. They were family.
Spencer pushed his hair out of his face and tried to focus. He was actually afraid. Gwenevere was out there, somewhere. There had been blood at the scene of her abduction. She could have been gravely injured, and Spencer felt empty. He just wanted her to be safe, to see her smile, to feel her kiss. How had this happened? He had spoken to her only yesterday morning. They had laughed and talked, and now all he had was a voicemail. He mentally started to count as he calmed his breathing down. He looked at Scott. "Can we go to her parents? I need to make sure Lizzie and Greg are okay, Gwenevere would dump me if I didn't."
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Gwen grunted unpleasantly as her face contorted in pain. The sharp edge of the cement post dug into her back, but pain was something she could count on. It meant she was still alive. She had been tied up in the basement for several hours and she was running on adrenaline and her desire to punch Adrienne Foster in the face.
After seeing Adrienne again for the first time since the trial fourteen years ago, Gwen's survival instincts kicked into overdrive the minute the brunette psycho had disappeared back upstairs. Adrienne hadn't stayed long, and neither did her beefy friend Marcus. This was all good because it gave Gwen plenty of time to think and to find a way out of a dank hellhole called a basement.
A couple hours ago, she had managed to turn around the post enough that her roped wrists were now pushed up against one of the rough straight edges of the cement support. Her mobility wasn't the best given the amount of rope, but Gwen quickly set up a rhythm for rubbing the rope fibers against the rough edge.
Almost there, she thought with a grimace. She smiled when she felt the rope loosen a minute later. Soon she was pulling her wrist free. "Should have used handcuffs…" she whispered, rubbing her wrists gently to get some feeling back in them. It was cold, and she couldn't see, but Gwen was sure frostbite wasn't entirely impossible in this weather. She pushed herself up and looked around.
Gwen's head shot up towards the ceiling when she heard footsteps above her. She moved across the room to a work table and started looking for some sort of makeshift weapon. "Damn it!" she muttered. It would have been too easy if there was a gun lying around randomly.
The door to the basement opened and Gwen grabbed the first thing she could get her hands on: a wrench. She slowly backed up. Having a wall behind her was both good and bad for her current predicament. On one hand, no one could sneak up from behind, and Gwen was a fan of that idea. On the other hand, there was really only one direction you could go, and that was forward, right into her captors arms. There was nowhere to run, and Gwen knew it.
Adrienne turned on the basement light and looked at Gwen in a mixture of shock and mild amusement. She rested a hand on the guard railing and started taking slow deliberate steps down to the basement floor. "I should have figured rope was too weak," she said with a dreamy sigh. She stepped onto the cement floor, positioning herself just right for a fight if Gwen decided to attack. "I'll have Marcus handcuff you in a few minutes, but right now, we should talk."
Gwen's gaze hardened as her grip on the wrench grew tighter. She wasn't about to attack someone who had just gotten out of jail. They learned to fight dirty. At least that's what the TV shows had taught Gwen. "Why are you doing this Adrienne?" she asked with a growl.
"I guess it's one of the simplest motives in the world," Adrienne answered with a shrug. She slid a foot forward to test Gwen's response. She smiled when Gwen twisted slightly into a fighting stance. "Revenge is so simple like that. It's time your father suffered after everything he put me through. It's time he learned what real pain is."
Gwen's wrist went limp and she barely held onto the wrench. "My father?" she asked, almost as if she was in a daze.
"Oh yes," Adrienne smiled. "And don't think this game is over just yet. Your dear little niece and nephew have parts to play as well," she smirked when Gwen grew pale and the wrench clattered to the ground. With a high pitched giggle, Adrienne looked up at the door. "Oh Marcus, dear! Could you get me the handcuffs please? Our little prisoner is up and walking."
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"Spencer!" Greg shouted, pushing himself out of his grandfather's recliner. He rushed towards the genius and stopped only a few feet away. "Aunt Gwen… Have you… Did you… Adrienne took…" the teenager couldn't seem to complete a sentence before he was off on another, and he clenched and unclenched his fists.
Spencer turned to the door to see Scott and Emily arguing quietly on the patio about something. He didn't really care. They stepped inside a moment later and closed the front door. Reid turned his attention on Greg. He looked healthy, safe, but worried. Lizzie was nowhere to be seen, but he was almost certain he had seen the curtain move upstairs in Elise's room. She was hiding away, probably avoiding all news because it meant she wouldn't have to hear the bad news.
"The police will get her back," Mary sighed. She was sitting in the window seat of her living room. Gwen's shoulder bag sat in her lap and she pet it almost as if it were a sleeping cat. Her gaze was directed towards the street, almost as if she expected her youngest child to come running up the walkway with a bright smile on her face. The clothes Mary wore were way past a day old, and her cheeks had been tear-stained after hours of crying. The writer laughed to herself and shook her head. "Rather, the FBI will." Her voice was full of contempt and bitterness towards the agency.
"Mrs. Thompson," Spencer said looking at Gwen's mother. He had to ignore Greg for just a moment. "The BAU handles cases like this all the time, the team that has Gwenevere's case will get answers." At least he told himself that to stop himself from calling Strauss and demanding that his team be given the case.
"And how often do you find them alive, doctor?" Mary asked, a new batch of tears started to fall and she lifted a Kleenex to her eyes. Her husband was at the BAU, and had been all morning. She looked out the window again and took a stuttering breath. "I already lost one daughter, my last and youngest is out there, alone, hurt, and scared, it shouldn't be some by-the-book team out there looking for her. When has she ever been by-the-book? They don't know her like you do."
"Why can't your team take my aunt's case?" Greg asked, pleading with Reid. He needed Spencer to understand. "Aunt Gwen is all my sister and I have left. Who will take care of us like she does?"
Emily stepped into the living room. "Reid is dating your aunt," Emily answered. She talked softly, knowing the teenage boy wouldn't take kindly to anything else. It was clear that he took this case as a personal attack on him and his sister's lives as well. "A personal connection like that-"
"That's bullshit!" Greg shouted, losing all of the calm he had left. He was tired of the roundabout, and he was tired of waiting for answers. "My aunt has been taken by some psycho, and you can't help because she's sleeping with your friend? What about the Reaper? He killed your boss' wife, didn't he? Your team had that case. It was all over the newspapers. Why won't you take the case? Is it because Spencer and Gwen aren't married?"
"Greg-" Spencer began only to be pushed away by the teen. He stumbled back into Scott who helped him up.
"I thought you cared about her!" Greg yelled as he started to cry. "She loves you and you're not even going to try and help. How can you do that to her! She has never cared about someone like you and this is what she gets in return?" Greg shoved back Spencer and stomped up the stairs, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. Mary choked back some sobs form her seat by the window.
Spencer winced when he heard a door slam from somewhere upstairs. He felt deflated, tired, and weak. He was powerless to ease Greg's pain; Spencer couldn't even make the empty feeling inside him go away. Why wasn't he working harder to get his team on the case? Did that say something about how he felt about Gwen? No, he had already determined back at the airport that he would weasel his way in somehow. He was the FBI's resident genius, he could do anything. Did Hotch realize how important it was that Gwenevere was found alive?
Emily jumped as her phone gave off a shrill ring. She answered it quickly and Spencer moved to the couch to sit. As he was about to zone out while he examined the wood grain in the floor, Emily tapped him on the shoulder. She held her cell phone a couple inches from her ear.
"Reid, we have to go," she said, moving to stand in front of him. "Hotch got Gwen's case for us; we're going to start a profile while we wait for the others to get back."