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ELEPHANTS MEMORY
season three, episode sixteen
(3x16)
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WHEN EDDIE TURNER WAS FIFTEEN, HE HEARD A RUMOUR THAT HIS SISTER WAS KISSING BOYS IN CARS. At first, it was too bizarre to believe. He knew his sister as the person who drove him to his soccer games, who bought him novels, who made sure he had a packed lunch everyday.
She wasn't interested in kissing. She just couldn't be.
Then, on one rainy day (he knew this because he was stood in it, his boots drenched and muddy), she was late picking him up. When her ruddy car turned the corner, and his back began soaking the passenger seat, she claimed she had 'got caught up with something'. Her smudged lipstick and mis-buttoned blouse told him everything.
It was after that he started trusting her less.
Lucy remembered what he was wearing on the day she realised she'd finally lost him. She had met his eye, and nothing needed to be said (not much would be heard over the blaring sirens near them anyway). He was torn apart. A fifteen year old, with a heart already broken. He was a rather short fifteen year old, she had always noted about him.
She wondered how tall he was now.
She didn't expect to hear from him. Really, she'd be the last person he'd want to talk to, but she'd probably be one of the first he thought about. And she considered that every time the anniversary rolled around, though her heart ached equally as much. Time is a healer, supposedly. Lucy couldn't believe that.
She never woke with a start. She'd never gasp from a nightmare. She'd never be pulled from her dreams screaming. One second, her subconscious would claw at her, sun peeking through the branches of trees pointing at her, and the next second her eyes would flutter open and she'd realise she wasn't back there. She wasn't surprised that Theo could sleep so soundly at her side.
Lucy had always been good at pretending to be fine.
She had always wanted to be an actress after all.
So, when she woke from another night spent subconsciously twisting and turning, she slid from the covers of Theo's bed, pulled a t-shirt over her naked body and padded to the bathroom. That's when she startled. Every time she stared in a mirror, she was shocked at how similar she looked to that pitiful girl in all those case files she hid in her closet.
Lucy blinked. And for a second she pitied herself. Until she realised it was pathetic, and completely unfair to do so. And, for every second she felt that, she would grow to hate herself a little bit more. Pity, was she even deserving of it?
Eddie. She wished he would talk to her.
She shook the wish away. She didn't know who she was praying to, but she figured she knew enough now to know no one was listening. And even so, it would take a miracle for him to budge. It had been ten years, after all.
Ten years since the worst day of her life. As far as she was concerned, she hadn't left it. In the beginning, this specific day was the worse—the hardest day to get through, the day it all happened. And she would wallow in it for 24 hours, unsleeping, typically tipsy, and repeating over and over get through this day. As if, in the next, she would just forget.
She noticed recently she had repeating that mantra more and more, almost everyday. Get through today, maybe the next might be better. Things usually just stayed the same. She was simply indifferent towards the other days. But one thing was for sure:
She despised this one.
*****
PENELOPE GARCIA WAS ECSTATIC, THE ENTIRE OFFICE COULD TELL. She entered the bullpen with a joyful stride, her heels singing as they clacked the ground, the noise alerting her coworkers—those whom she had sternly ordered to arrive thirty minutes earlier than what was expected of them. She took surprise party planning very seriously.
"What do you think?" She asked beaming, motioning to the usually morose-looking desk, decorated with love (or so Penelope said). "It looks good, right?"
"It looks great," JJ patted Penelope on the back, smiling softly. "You've outdone yourself. Truly."
It was extravagant, that was true. Penelope felt obliged to make up for the past four years missed, what with Lucy out of town and all. An extra special birthday welcome for an extra special birthday girl, her email to the team had read. A large banner was hoisted up above her desk (thank you, Morgan and Hotch), a plate of frosted cupcakes that read 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY' sat on the desk.
Spencer had gotten the balloons. Why Penelope had tasked him specifically with it? He had no idea. (She figured Lucy would appreciate them all the more if he had gotten them for her). He hadn't minded, even if the journey from the Beltway Clean Cops meeting to the office with them had been a tad awkward, like a pitiful party for one.
Penelope warmed at the compliment, waving JJ away, "Ah, well, you know. . .Is everyone here?" Her eyes scanned the room—JJ by her side, Derek at his desk, Emily at hers. Even Hotch made a guest appearance in the bullpen, leaning against Spencer's desk. "Where's Rossi?! She is going to be here any minute. I—"
Just then, the glass door swung open and in stepped a whistling Rossi, looking as unconcerned as ever. His stride came to a halt when the room turned quiet. That's when he took notice of the desk, peppered with decor. "What's all this?" He asked, with a hesitancy that was unknown to him.
"Didn't you get my email?" Penelope asked. "It's Lucy's birthday."
"It's the first time she's been in town for it since she's started working here," JJ added.
There was a shift of sorts in the atmosphere in the room. They all felt it, only Rossi knew why. "You've gotta to get rid of this," was the first thing he said after a moments of silence. "The kid, she'll not like it," he then added.
"What?" Penelope asked, frowning. "Wh-Why?"
Rossi repeated his sentiment from before, "take it all down." It sounded less like a suggestion now. Everyone in the room seemingly had sat up straighter, and their eyebrows had raised, perhaps in their shock at Rossi's outburst.
"B-But everyone should celebrate their birthday," Penelope frowned, her preppy persona from before diminished. She resembled a kicked kitten now more than anything.
"Take it down—" Rossi had begun to repeat, his voices laced with sterner urgency this time, before Derek stood from his desk, placing a firm hand on the older man's shoulder.
"All right, ease up, Rossi—" He started, but got interrupted before he could speak further.
"Guys," was all Spencer had said, but it was enough to pause the conversation.
After spending fifteen excruciating minutes outside the building, assuring herself over and over that being here couldn't hurt, she finally exited the elevator at the floor of the BAU. And then the frown on her face deepened.
Her phone was to her ear, Theo's brisk voice ringing through, though muffled—no surprise there. Though today she wasn't her usual, chipper self, and her cheeks were pink in a flush that implied a restlessness. "I, um—" she stuttered, self-conscious with all the eyes on her, alarm bells ringing in her head so loud she couldn't even think of her next steps. "Y-yeah. . .I've just—two seconds. Give me two seconds," she mumbled into the phone, slowly retracing her steps, barely acknowledging the other people in the room. Less than three seconds later, it was like she hadn't even been there at all.
Two seconds after that, she had hung up the phone without a goodbye.
Just get through today, tomorrow will be better. The mantra was loosing its effect already, and Lucy wasn't sure how long she could keep up this 'I'm fine' act, which was a huge concern given she'd just stepped foot in the building. They hadn't even started on a case yet, for Gods sake. So she kept repeating it anyway — just get through today — even as she upchucked her breakfast, and wiped acidy tears that leaked from her eyes.
"Luce? You okay in there?"
When she realised it hadn't been Penelope who had raced after her, she felt immensely guilty. Putting that on top of the guilt she already wore, it was a lot to carry.
Just get through today.
She wiped her chin with her sleeve, and grimaced at the rotten taste in her mouth. "Uh, yeah! Yeah, I'm—gimme a sec," she called to JJ, who she knew would've waited regardless. When she pushed herself to her feet, straightened out her skirt and tucked her hair behind her ears, she unlocked the door and revealed herself. "I woke up feeling a little sick this morning. I was up late last night, you know. . ." She tried to offer some sort of explanation, but it became a futile task. She gave up quickly.
"It's okay," JJ assured, nodding her head even despite her lack of understanding. Lucy found JJ easy to feel around, almost too much. "I'm just—sorry. Sort of feels like we tossed you into the lions den there."
Exactly, that. "No. No, it's just—," Lucy found herself disagreeing, before she stopped herself, her eye catching the row of mirrors lining the wall of the bathroom. And she saw Marianne all over again. It was hard to run away from her on days like these. Where everything reminded her of everything. "It's. . .complicated," she practically whispered, before biting her lip, in fear she'd say too much.
JJ nodded again, a sad smile on her lips. And in that moment, Lucy envied her. How could she feel such comfort around someone who didn't know a damn thing? JJ was just so effortlessly skilled in making her feel. . .I don't know, human? "Well, if you ever want to talk. . ." JJ trailed off, but Lucy understood. "What do you want me to do? Go back out there, ask them all to act like it never happened? Because I can do that—"
Lucy felt ridiculous. Humiliated, now that she realised she would have to face them all eventually. "No, no," she ran her hand through her hair, dishevelling it again. "No, I'll play. For Penelope."
"You don't have to do that. She'll understand—"
"I can do it, okay? I just. . ." She moved over to the sink, leaning her hands on it. She sighed, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, thinking. Of Molly. Of Eddie. Her Pops. Sammie Dunne. All the rest of them. Too many names to list. "Fuck it. Come on."
Just get through today. The phrase sounded more idiotic the more she recited it.
Eyes. That's what that ticklish feeling all over her body was. But she couldn't focus on that now, her eyes trained only on Penelope, who was never really good at hiding her emotions. Her face screamed regret and sadness, perhaps a guilt for throwing a party for someone who didn't want it. Lucy heart ached when Penelope melted into her arms, a relieved sigh escaping her lips.
"Sorry. I appreciate it, I do," she whispered in her ear, swallowing that pesky lump in her throat, hoping her words wouldn't come out strained and teary. "It's just. . .a rough morning. Trouble in paradise, I guess."
Lie. Theo's been nothing if not a gentleman.
The excuse was weak, this Lucy knew. But she only needed to convince Penelope, who seemingly trusted Lucy's every word. She had a trusting heart. Lucy prayed it wouldn't be her downfall. She knew she couldn't convince the others, what with her lack of sleep and somewhat lack of interest in persuading them. So she barely spared them a glance.
(They have their questions. It wasn't her job to answer them.)
"Oh, good, good," Penelope cracked a smile, and a warmth in Lucy's colder chest made her smile softly. A small one, but a smile all the same. Lucy couldn't shake the idea that the rest of the team believed that to be fake too. She wouldn't blame them. This whole charade was pathetically see-through. "The cupcakes are red velvet, your favourite."
Lucy's eyes softened at that, and her crooked smile morphed into a beam of sorts. Not at the idea of red velvety goodness, but at the prospect that—"you remembered."
"Of course I did, silly," Penelope replied, rubbing her arm with such affection, Lucy felt undeserving. "Eat as many as you want. Calories aren't real on birthdays."
"Oh, don't mind if I do," Lucy almost found it in her to giggle, until her attention turned to JJ, who's phone had buzzed moments before.
"Case," JJ explained when all attention pointed to her, waving her phone as proof. Oh, thank you universe! The team shuffled to the round table as rapidly as ever—Lucy receiving meek offers of 'happy birthday' from Emily and Hotch (the latter funnily opting for just 'birthday' and an awkward pat on the shoulder). Penelope gave her goodbyes as she reentered the dark corners of her cave.
That's when Lucy stopped holding her breath. She studied her desk, and undoubtedly felt appreciative for the trouble, and she felt love too, but it was too overwhelmed by the sadness already living in her. Celebrating felt wrong.
"I would've appreciated a heads up," Lucy remarked as her and Rossi walked side by side, lagging behind the rest of the group.
"Hey, I found out roughly 30 seconds before you did," Rossi said in defence, raising his hands up.
As they entered the room, Lucy already predicted what was on the minds of her team. Expectedly, Derek posed the question no one else dared ask. "You got a case of the 'birthday blues' or something?"
Lucy blanked him (now, that was an eye widener). "What've we got?" She asked JJ, who, perhaps expecting a little verbal spat between Lucy and Derek, gathered herself quickly.
JJ then caught the team up with the case. A bomb exploded in a house. Two victims, one a man named Rod Norris, the second yet to be identified, though it is believed to be Norris' daughter, Jordan. The unidentified victim's remains suggest they were inside the house when it caught flame. Two officers were ambushed when they responded to the fire.
"That's a well established terrorist tactic," Spencer explained. "First wave takes out civilians, second wave takes out first responders."
"So, they're thinking it's terrorism?" Lucy asked, sceptically.
Derek added, his scepticisms as evident. "In West Bune, Texas?"
"Not exactly a tier-one target, but DHS did issue a terror alert for the border states yesterday. Just due to the timing and nature of the attack," JJ explained.
"I've never heard of this place," Derek said. "The militia, okay, that I could see."
"Well, it is close to the border," Emily reasoned. "It could be traffickers, sending a message."
"Whoever is it, they gunned down two cops and blew up a teenage girl," Rossi said. "Until they're stopped, no one in that town is safe."
"We need to be cautious with the locals. They've lost two of their own, they're anxious, they're scared and they're going to want revenge," Hotch stated.
Anxious. Scared. Revenge. Lucy knew the feeling.
"Can't blame them," she mused, though quietly.
When Hotch expressed what Lucy believed to be his most coveted phrase (his catch phrase, if you will)—"wheels up in twenty"—she was first out of the room, in desperate need to see her reflection in the bathroom mirror and clean herself up again. Wallowing in self-pity in the confines of your office, she could do. But, on the job, she wanted to look presentable.
She wasn't there to hear the silence that followed her departure. Rossi was the one who broke it. "I warned you all," he deadpanned, strolling out of the room as though it were any other day.
*****
MARIANNE BROKE HER FORST BONE DURING A DODGEBALL GAME GONE WRONG. Her nose had been slightly crooked ever since. The exact colour of crimson that dribbled down to her chin was one she wouldn't forget, because what she took notice of directly after this was that look on Jasmine Hayward's face.
She always perceived her as vindictive, even before the fued between them had been fuelled. Marianne had felt a distaste towards her for a while, but she guessed the issues stemmed from their similarities in the end.
And that Jasmin was jealous. Not of Marianne directly, but if what followed her. Who wanted her.
In hindsight, Sammie Dunne had caused quite a few of Marianne's problems, accidental or not.
Lucy knew what rage looked like. She saw it in Jasmine that day. She'd seen it in others in days that followed.
This attack was personal. It didn't take long for the team to grasp that. Judging by the risky overkill and the knowledge the unsub had regarding Rod Norris' smoking habits and the everyday routine of entering his home through the back door, it was easy to conclude that Rod Norris and Lou Savage were the targets of this attack.
They were looking for someone with personal ties to both men. They were looking for Owen Savage, Lou Savage's son and Jordan Norris's boyfriend, who had just stolen every last thing from his fathers gun safe before the team arrived at his home.
Spencer was agitated, Lucy noticed.
"Gun safe's empty," she informed him as she entered Owens room.
"No surprise there."
Her eyes widened ever so slightly (sassy Spencer she appreciated in doses, but she had a feeling it was in his best interest to simmer down before Hotch felt it necessary to reprimand him). She moved throughout the room, scanning posters and such, before she stopped at Owens desk. "You check his computer?" She asked.
"It's password encrypted," he answered from the other side of the room.
She wiggled the mouse nevertheless. "Guess that's expected if your dads a cop, right?" She pursed her lips in thought. Guessing anything now would truly be a stab in the dark.
"Assuming he cares enough to snoop."
Yeesh. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she turned to face him. "Okay, correct me if I'm way off base, but you don't normally make it a habit to irritate law enforcement and Hotch. What's up with you? Are you okay?"
"Am I okay? Weren't you the one puking your guts up less than—what—four hours ago?" There wasn't a hint of care in his words, and Lucy recognised that he wasn't exactly thinking before he was speaking. She narrowed her eyes, wondering if JJ let it slip, but he stepped in before she could ask. "You were eating mints on the plane. Once, you compared mints to swallowing toothpaste. Said you'd only consider eating one if you puked."
Lucy shook her head, turning her back to him, though she couldn't deny that her heart skipped a beat. "That's not important," she brushed him off.
"No? Okay, well, maybe I'm off base, but it seems counter intuitive to answer all your questions when you don't exactly answer any of mine," he rambled on. Lucy noticed his jaw clenched as he moved through the room. "Do you have a habit of being deceitful with everyone or just your work friends?"
If Lucy hadn't thrown up her breakfast already, she surely would've liked right then and there because. . .what the hell was that? She was usually quick on her feet, but she didn't know how to respond to that. "Jesus, okay," she shook her head in bewilderment. "See, now I'm happy I didn't make any remarks about you acting sassy, because that would've made me look really stupid. Because you're not being sassy at all, you're being mean."
Somehow, Lucy knew the word mean would hit Spencer more than any curse word would, as juvenile as the word maybe sounded.
Still, his words leeched with an annoyance that was unnatural to him. "You know what I mean," he muttered, finally moving from his frozen spot in the corner (Lucy wondered if his words shocked him half as much as they shocked her. Then, she wondered why she cared at all). He began filing through Owens drawers. "You lied straight to Penelope's face, we all saw it—"
"Oh, you're still going?" She spun around to send him a pointed glare. A meanness wasn't as unnatural to her as it was to Spencer. What was unnatural was it being pointed in his direction. "I said I appreciate her. You think that's a lie? Whatever. Maybe it's counter intuitive, but I'm not going to agonise over words coming from some guy who self-admittedly hardly knows me."
Just then, Morgan waltzed through. Maybe it was the pointed staring competition that perplexed him, or maybe he could genuinely feel the thickness of the atmosphere. Nevertheless, he sensed something was off. "What's going on?"
Lucy raised an eyebrow in Reid's direction, but wasn't surprised when he mumbled nothings under his breath. "Oh, nothing. The doctors just exercising his right to be a jackass," Lucy stated exaggeratedly. "I would say 'same old', but this looks pretty new for him. Not sure it fits."
It was common knowledge that if Morgan and Lucy joined forces, you were basically screwed.
"Hey, you need to check yourself, man," Morgan directed his words in Reid's direction. "That Sheriff was looking to rip your head off. And I think Hotch would've let him."
Spencer merely shrugged, which left Lucy utterly bewildered. He had never acted like this before. Morgan exchanged a look with Lucy, before he began fiddling through a chest of drawers. "All his clothes are black," he observed. "Just like his friend Johnny Cash. So Owen identifies with being a misunderstood loner. You know, I wish all our unsubs would just tack their profiles on their walls like this for us."
"It doesn't mean anything," Spencer argued. "What, you grew up in Chicago, a high-school jock, and you have pictures of Scottie Pippen and Michael Jordan all over your walls? Trophies everywhere?"
Derek shrugged with a sly smile, "yeah, but you forgot Walter Payton. Not to mention the sexy ladies of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue."
Lucy scrunched her nose in distaste as Derek made a wavy motion with his hands, "ugh, you're such a boy."
"Smart money says you didn't paint your mirrors black," Spencer said, scratching at the mirror in Owens closet. Black paint chipped off.
"I guess Owen didn't like what he saw," Derek assumed.
Lucy almost found herself slipping, the self-depreciative phrase 'I know that feeling' on the tip of her tongue, until she remembered she wasn't exactly itching to be open with either of them. Especially Spencer in this particular moment. Consider her petty, but she didn't care.
After a dispute between the wife of the officer Owen shot down and the Sheriff on the Savage's front lawn, Hotch spilt the group of four into pairs, with him and Spencer heading to the high school to talk with Owens teachers and peers. That left Lucy with Morgan (for once, she wasn't complaining).
"Not used to seeing you fighting with the kid," Morgan first said, taking a seat at Owens desk and wiggling the mouse. "Do you know what's up with him?"
Lucy, still a tad irked by Spencer's outburst, huffed lightly, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Why would I know anything?"
Morgan shrugged, his back facing Lucy. "I don't know. You two seem to have a little thing going, no?"
Lucy grimaced, and her cheeks heated up. "Pfft, what? There's no 'thing'. B-Besides, I'm seeing someone, so—"
"Oh, my God," Derek drawled, rolling his eyes. "Can you relax? I didn't mean it like that. He talks to you, is all."
Lucy didn't know why she got defensive. Nonetheless, she found herself hesitating. "Well, apparently I'm deceitful, so. . ." Lucy said quietly, and it wouldn't take a profiler to notice her hurt. She pondered over Derek's words. A little thing. We're they close? Lucy shook her head at the question.
She felt far away from everyone. More so today than ever.
"He's been. . .down ever since that case in California," she admitted shyly. "Maybe that's what's affecting his mood. That and that he sees himself in Owen. Two heavy burdens to carry."
"Well, we all have our burdens, right?"
The air between them for once was thin, easy to breathe in. Lucy felt herself being grateful for Derek for once. She didn't need any more confrontations on a day that was hard enough. "Right," she agreed.
Soon thereafter they heard news of a fifth victim, a high-schooler by the name of Kyle Borden, who had been shot in the face. Unluckily, Owens truck, which had been left at the scene, was completely cleaned out. Owen was skilled and seemingly thought everything through.
Meanwhile, Lucy and Derek had been discussing potential passwords Owen may have used. Getting into his computer could give them some vital information about where Owen might head. "Johnny Cash?" Derek wondered aloud, looking to Lucy for her opinion.
"Give it a try, I guess," she shrugged, her hand propping her up beside the desk chair Derek sat in.
Incorrect.
They sighed simultaneously.
"Hope Savage, I know you're trying to tell me something," Derek muttered to the photo on the Home Screen. Hope Savage, Owens deceased mother, stared back at them.
The silver necklace around her neck caught Lucy's eye.
She found herself holding her breath.
"For luck."
Marianne's hands were sweaty, and she were sure the heaps of makeup caked on her face was dripping. Suddenly, the cast room felt hot.
She eyed the shiny gold chain Molly held out, a pendant in the shape of a heart swinging side to side. She couldn't help but smile.
"Luck? Who needs luck?" She questioned joking, but allowed Molly to press the necklace into her hand and fold it into a fist. Molly's cold hands stayed wrapped around Marianne's one. "I'm gonna be fabulous. You said it yourself. I'm the perfect—"
"The perfect Rizzo, I did. And I speak only the truth, but rumour has it someone in a black wig and a pink ladies coat was puking in the girl's bathroom not too long ago, so. . .?" Molly said, her voice cheery but her eyes narrowed at Marianne in accusation.
Lucy smiled softly and stared down at her feet, then her eyes landed on their tangled hands. "Yeah, I don't know. . .must be stage fright. I'm feeling a bit nervous, I guess," she excused herself, shrugging her shoulders weakly.
"You're going to be great," Molly assured her. "'Worse things I could do' is, like, your song. You're gonna knock 'em dead. It'll be the best production this school has seen since. . .ever. Here, let me—"
Molly took the gold necklace and moved to stand behind Marianne. Her hands snaked their way around her neck as she connected both ends of the chain, clipping it on securely. Marianne fiddled with the heart pendant and studied it closer—a cursive M engraved on it.
Just when Marianne was about to speak—something to express her appreciation for Molly—after Molly wrapped her arms around her shoulders and leaned her chin on Marianne's shoulder, a head popped from behind the door.
"Eds, hi," Marianne smiled in greeting.
Her brother always had a crooked smile, one she found endearing and so incredibly boyish. He flashed it then, brushing a strand of his shaggy hair behind his ear. "They're asking everyone to find their seats. Came to find this one," Eddie explained, holding out an arm. Marianne felt colder when Molly moved into her brothers hands. "You all set?" He asked his sister, who nodded.
"Yeah, yeah," she said. "All set."
"Go get 'em, Mary. Knock 'em dead."
Her hands wrapped around the pendant against her chest.
"Try Hope," she suggested to Morgan, who quickly obliged to her request.
When the screen changed, Morgan hummed. "Good work, Byrne," he commented.
Lucy faltered. This day was getting more and more bizarre as it drawled on. Compliments didn't come cheaply in Morgan's book, especially when regarding her, Lucy knew this. Suddenly, she felt good about her work.
As Morgan explored the contents of the computer, Lucy tried to busy herself. But the room had already been searched and they had found everything worth finding. When Morgan cleared his throat, her attention turned back to him. She crouched slightly to look at the screen. "You find something?" She asked.
"Yeah, and it's not good," Derek sighed.
Derek pressed play on a video, and Lucy watched intently, an almost undetectable frown on her face. Owen was stood in the showers of what she assumed was the locker room in the highschool, wearing nothing but a towel around his torso.
"He didn't know he was being filmed," Lucy concluded, watching Owen nervously converse with other voices behind the camera. "You need to send this to Hotch. And we need to find out who took the video."
*****
THE CULPRITS OF THE VIDEO WERE NEVER PUNISHED, UNTIL OWEN TOOK IT INTO HIS OWN HANDS. He had sent the team an untraceable video from Jordan's PDA. In it, the three boys were on their knees, in nothing but boxer shorts, pleading for their lives, before they were shot dead.
He's collecting injustices. And anyone who has mistreated Owen (or Jordan) in the past is far from safe.
Lucy and Morgan had remained at the house. Lucy found it was her turn to dig through Owens computer, whilst Morgan stepped outside to phone Garcia to see if she could restore some missing emails. A shuffling by the door alerted her, and she would have assumed it to be Derek returning, had the steps not been so hesitant.
An apologetic Reid blocked the doorway. Lucy and him met eyes briefly, before she turned back to the computer and carried on with the task at hand. "Here to bicker some more? Because I'm sort of in the middle of something," she said, almost jokingly.
"Um, I just—I wanted to. . ." Spencer stumbled over his words, scratching behind his ear as he stepped into the room. "I'm sorry. I am."
The clicking of the keyboard stopped, and Lucy pursed her lips. "I know."
"I don't—I don't even know why I said that," Spencer continued, taking a seat in the edge of Owens bed. "I mean, you have every right to your privacy and I know you appreciate Garcia so. . .I was out of line."
Lucy finally turned around to face Reid, leaning her arms against the chair back. One look at his face and she found herself softening. Damn him. Other than Penelope, no one else had made her feel that way since. . .
Her heart ached, and in it awoke a deep desire to fell tethered to something. Someone.
"I was a theatre kid in highschool," she blurted out. When her words caught up to her, she let out a nervy chuckle. "Yeah, I was actually quite good. Well, according to, you know, some people. I was, like, a walking stereotype, too. Fell in love with this guy, Sammie. He was this tortured artist, heartthrob. Well, loves an overstatement, I guess. It was—it was messy and. . . totally irrelevant to what I'm trying to say right now." She scratched behind her ear and let out another one of those anxious laughs. "Maybe this is why I don't talk about things. I get all muddled."
Spencer was clearly listening intently. "It's okay," he assured her.
She sighed. "During my senior year, the theatre club was putting on a production of Grease: the musical. And, there was this girl, Jasmine. She was really talented, really. It wasn't a surprised she got casted as Sandy. I mean, she was a shoo-in. Typical high-school sweetheart. And, like most girls, she liked Sammie. So when he was casted as Danny, she must have had some delusion that they were going to ride off into the sunset together. Basically, Sammie didn't give her the time of day and apparently that was my fault."
Lucy looked up from her hands (which she had been nervously picking and fiddling with) to meet Spencer's eyes, maybe to be certain he was still listening. He was. She shook her head, and tried to keep that easy smile on her face, but it was more of a grimace now. "It was more complicated than that, really. People always compared us and sort of pitted us against each other, but. . .well, long story short, she ended up breaking my nose in a brutal game of dodgeball. And it was so humiliating because, at the time, I was squeamish around blood. I'd never really been injured before that—I'd never played contact sport or anything, never had any accidents. So I like freaked out. And that wasn't even the height of the drama but. . .look, all I'm saying is that I wasn't ever cool either. People thought I was strange, I didn't come from any money, I had weird interests and stupid dreams, and I was really naive. The name calling and the teasing wasn't rare for me."
She settled into silence, and wondered if she would regret such honesty down the line. But a glance at Spencer's face—without a hint of judgment—she felt glad, and somehow lighter. "Thank you. . .for telling me that. I know you find it hard to open up," he spoke softly, a look of pure gratitude about him.
Lucy wished her throat didn't feel so dry. She was used to feeling conflicted when she felt seen. "Maybe if I hadn't been so many peoples emotional punching bag growing up, I would've been able to stay mad at you for longer," she teased, before her smile turned soft, more sympathetic. "You're not the only one who sees themselves in him, you know."
Lucy could see the wheels turning in Spencer's head, as if something was prodding at his mind. He looked at her, perhaps a tad apprehensively, but when she shot him a smile that assured him she was listening, he swallowed the lump in his throat. "I was in the library, and, uh, Harper Hillman comes up to me, and she tells me that Alexa Isben wants to meet me behind the field house. Alexa Isben was, like. . .easily the prettiest girl in school," Spencer said, but then suddenly fell silent.
Lucy spoke as softly as ever. "Alexa wasn't there?"
"No, she was there," Spencer shook his head. "So was the entire football team. They stripped me naked and tied me to a goal post. So many kids were there, you know, just watching. I begged them to stop, but they just. . .they just watched. Then finally, they got bored and they left. It was like midnight when I finally got home. And my mom didn't. . .mom was having one of her episodes so she didn't even realise I was late."
"You never told her?" Lucy asked quietly, fighting the urge to envelope Spencer in a hug.
He shook his head, sombrely. "I never told anybody," he admitted. "I thought it was one of those things that I thought if I didn't talk about it, I'd just forget it. But I remember it like it was yesterday."
Lucy had never felt more like Spencer Reid than she didn't just then.
Spencer was choked up, that was evident. Lucy felt an instinct to go sit by him on the edge of the bed. And this time, she gave in to that impulse. "Well, you don't need an eidetic memory for that," she commented, tilting her head to look at him. "I would say something true about how you're saving people everyday and doing such good in the world, or about how you proved yourself to be better than the assholes that hurt you, but it doesn't make it hurt any less. You didn't deserve that. No one does, but especially you." She boldly placed her hand over his, and expected his to tense up slightly. She was surprised when his thumb immediately wrapped around hers. "I mean that. You're a really remarkable person."
"So are you," he said, almost instantly.
Her breath hitched in her throat. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. She couldn't help but feel that weren't true. She found it almost hilarious that the only times Spencer was ever wrong was when it came to his assumptions about her.
"Owen just wants to forget," Spencer stated then. "I know what that's like."
Lucy pursed her lips, and nodded. "I know," she gave his hand one last squeeze before she stood up and moved back to the computer. "You know, he's been making a big deal of saying goodbye to Jordan in all of his emails, none of its shorthand. That's odd."
Spencer's eyes widened with a realisation. "He never got a chance to say goodbye to his mother. Abandonment is his biggest fear. That's why he chose Jordan. He thinks she'll never leave."
Lucy stood again, and turned to Spencer. "Let's go back to the station, fill Hotch and the rest of them in," she suggested, standing once more. She motioned him to follow her, which he did. She slowed her steps at the doorway, and turned to face him. He looked down expectantly. "And, Spence?"
"Hmm?" He nodded at her to continue.
The words 'thank you' tickled the edge of her tongue. Thank you, for listening. For not judging me. For making me feel that bit lighter. "If you're ever mean to me like that again, I'll try a lot harder to be unforgiving," she said with a humorous air to her words, but her eyes were serious.
Spencer gulped, then nodded. "Got it. Sorry, again."
*****
SPENCER REID HAD NEVER ACTED SO OUT OF CHARACTER. Lucy figured that, being as smart as he was, there would come times where he would cockily think his ideas should take precedent. She imagined that's what he would argue if she confronted him after he handed her his gun and requested she cover him as he stood before a teenage boy with a mission and a rifle. Maybe she should have confronted him, but she had heard Hotch's words as she half-eavesdropped in on their conversation.
"You're the smartest person in the room, but you're not the only person in that room."
But she hadn't really been focused on that then. Too much plaguing her mind.
Molly.
She wondered if there would be a voicemail waiting for her when she got home. She wondered if Eddie even had her number.
It was unlikely. Wishful thinking, on Lucy's part.
Her eyes had fluttered shut for a moment. And the skin of her knees felt prickly. Her vision was blurred, drowsy, and sometimes blinded by the suns rays peaking through the arms of trees. She wished she could see, for clarity.
She knew then she could fully believe what she had done. It wouldn't be her word against more, then. Her word against logic.
"I don't want to do it." Then a pause. A lot of ragged breaths. A girl begging not to far. "I can't."
"Please."
Please, please, please.
Marianne would find a relief in her distorted memory. Lucy would grow to resent her for it. For not being vigilant, cautious.
A bang. Lucy's eyes shot open, and she held her breath.
"You okay?" JJ.
She glanced out the window of the jet, to find they were on land. It would explain the bang that disrupted her slumber. She wasn't there. She sighed, and rubbed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose. "I wished people would stop asking me that," Lucy grumbled, before answering JJ's question. "I'm okay. Just dozed off."
JJ simply nodded. "Okay." Lucy forced a grin. It seemed convincing enough (but then again, JJ wasn't a profiler). Rossi stood behind JJ, who was the most experienced in reading through Lucy's cracks and frequent lies.
"I'm okay," she repeated, this time staring at him. Her words came with a warning tone, which would be hard to explain, had the others not been so busy readying to depart. "Really."
It was as neat to the truth she could get with potential spectators. It neared what she meant. That she may not be fine, but she would be in due time. And she almost did hold it all together, until she was back where she was before the case had started. The mirror in the bathroom was in dire need of a polish. Or maybe Lucy just had a knack for seeing dirt in things that seemed clean.
Her hands. They were filthy with crimson liquid and dirt from a forest ground.
She then found the dim lighting in the bathroom to be appropriate. Lucy always felt naked in the dark. It was where she was most honest, she supposed. Where she faltered the most.
With her reflection looking back at her, she knew it could see the truth. You couldn't forget it all, no matter how often she tried. Doing good will never outweigh the bad. Lucy realised a long time ago that it didn't work like that. And it wouldn't make the remorse subside.
The guilt.
She rubbed her eyebrow, where she thought a bead of sweat was about to drip onto the sink before her. That's a silent admission of guilt Lucy was used to observing.
She'd observed it a lot on the job. In murderers, serial killers, hardened criminals.
Suddenly, the necklace around her neck felt like a noose.
The bullpen felt stuffy (or maybe Lucy was simply flustered—her somewhat panting breaths indicated as much). She could feel the stares coming from her fellow teammates as she rummaged through her desk, no matter how subtle they tried to be.
She always had felt like she was being watched.
She just figured it was a vindictive ghost haunting her as a form of punishment. It was the only thing that made her believe in the afterlife.
Lucy hadn't been in David Rossi's office in a hot minute. She almost considered avoiding it, and him, like the plague, but she couldn't deny her staring into it every chance she got, every time it's door cracked open and someone came or went.
"How you holding up?" Rossi didn't need an explanation as to why she lingered. She was glad he didn't request one. Lucy had become accustomed to running, but, on a day like this one, she was just too darn exhausted. Perhaps that's why the honesty had spilled out.
Had she told Spencer too much? Lucy had promised herself long ago not to be too honest. She had been a social pariah long enough to know she couldn't do it all over again.
(Lucy hadn't realised then that all deflection and lies get you is solitude. She was now an emotional island, sinking all in its lonesome)
Lucy couldn't break a promise. She couldn't.
What was there to say? Lucy didn't exactly have an answer to his question that was less than an essay, and she knew she couldn't be honest for that long. Instead, she slid something across his desk. A white envelope.
The same one that came every year.
"They write you?" Rossi asked, almost incredulous. He flipped it around, only to find it hadn't been opened. He glanced at her for answers.
"I couldn't open it. Not this year," she admitted, scratching behind her ear. A humourless smile invaded her face. "'Have a happy birthday. We know she would be so, so proud of you. . .lots of love—' You know, they had another kid, and I just. . .I don't get it. Not at all. Like. . .like they're trying to make her all over again. It doesn't work like that. I just. . .I don't know how they can just. . ."
"Move on?" Rossi finished her sentence, raising an eyebrow. Somehow, his phrase packed a punch.
Lucy shook her head, and kissed her teeth. "It just. . .I don't know. It feels wrong. It is wrong."
"Yeah, maybe there are some faults to it. But I can certainly find a lot in this 'wallow in the past' plan you've been on," Rossi shrugged. Lucy wished he weren't so nonchalant. But, simultaneously, she knew any pity or sympathy wouldn't be taken naturally by her. "No one's ever treated you right, Lucy."
"Don't—" she shook her head. The building was starting to feel emptier, until it was just the two of them.
"It's true. No one has ever treated you with the correct amount of respect, the correct amount of love. And you will start to feel a whole lot better about everything when you accept that and let it go. And just because no one has ever treated you right, doesn't mean no one ever will."
Lucy sat in silence for a moment. Her eyes stung, and she knew then she was unravelling. But that was the thing with Lucy: she would hold on. No matter how battered and broken the fragments were—no matter how beyond repair—she would sit there and fill both hands with the pieces and hold on. It was hard to change from the person you've been since birth.
"People have died, Rossi. You don't think—" she hissed, blinking away tears. "It is wrong for me to just move on."
"Why?" David asked, and Lucy could see the bewilderment on his face, plain as day.
"Why? Why?" She scoffed as she repeated what she viewed as a preposterous question. Why? She was growing more agitated, and soon enough she knew daggers would shoot from her tongue. "What, you expect me to just go down there, blow frickin candles out of a cake? Celebrate? Build an entire new life and act like it never happened?"
"Why not?"
That was the tipping point.
Even if in hindsight, Lucy would realise that Rossi only wanted what was best for her—that out of the entire team, he wished the most for her—she couldn't help but want blood now.
"Because they can't, David!" She snapped, an octave below full blown shouting.
"Look, kid, I know what you've been through. I know how hard it must be to carry it all on your own. But you carry it too much. You've gotta—" David shook his head, scratching his beard. His voice was soft, which made Lucy feel sick.
Her face crumpled, as if she were in physical pain. "You don't get it," she hissed, and shook her head. Suddenly, an image flickered in Lucy's mind, and the room felt as though it were on fire. She had to flee. Running, she had always been doing that.
As Lucy made moves to leave, even opening the door by a fraction, Rossi spoke again, this time more urgently. "Look, stop. Okay? I know what you're feeling, all right? I've seen it, but the best thing—"
Lucy slammed the door shut. The loud smack rang through the bullpen. Pen scratching stopped. Three agents exchanged glances.
"No! Okay? No, you don't!"
"What the hells going on in there?" Derek asked, tossing his pen and paperwork aside, and standing from his desk. He moved to lean by Reid's, closer and with a better line of view. He got there just in time to see Rossi lowering the shutters.
"It was the worst day of my entire life and you keep acting like it's just this thing you see everyday. Like that makes it easy. You weren't there, okay? So you were told what happened. Big deal. So you know. But you don't understand. You have no idea, you—you weren't there! And you're saying things—like you know everything—but you weren't there! You're never going to know what it's like, so stop acting like you will!"
"What the hell?" Emily mumbled with wide eyes, catching bits and pieces through the closed door. The three stared at it, as if that would make it see through.
They startled when it flew open and Lucy came through. She reached her desk without even a glance at the three. Her eyes would tell too much. The pain. Only that could be seen in her eyes. She rummaged her desk for her things, and only grew more angry as her hands got caught on the trinkets and decorations that littered her desk.
When her sleeve caught the strong of a balloon, she had had more than enough. She grabbed a pencil, and stabbed it. Pop. "Fuck," she breathed out, throwing her bag over her shoulder and making a beeline for the exit.
"Should we—?" Spencer practically whispered, before the other two shushed him. He glanced in the direction of Rossi's office—Rossi himself stood in the doorway, arms crossed—for guidance. When he received a head shake (a firm no), he turned back to the glass door.
Lucy was gone.
And Spencer's heart twinged.
He couldn't help but feel his snappish behaviour that day had only made her hurt more.
Then he realised he hadn't known she was truly hurting at all.
(He would never truly know this, but, even in the absence of Spencer's outburst, Lucy was always going to storm out of the bullpen that day. She wished she'd stayed indoors that day.)
*****
So. . .longest chapter yet. Expected, given its context.
Anyhoo, how did you find it? Spencer and Lucy having their first ("couples")-quarrel. Before you say it, and you probably already have, but Lucy's forgiving Spencer so quickly DOES make sense, even though she maybe should've been angry for longer. It'll all be explained deeper in the future.
And lucy and Derek aren't each others biggest enemy!! How cool! They're so sibling coded, I love writing them.
And we got some brief introductions to some more people this chapter. Protip, in most cases, I'm not going to mention names unless they are super important!!!!
And lucy snapped (but allow it, she's sad lol). Where Lucy had been many peoples emotional punching bag, Rossi is no stranger to Lucy's wicked tongue.
ALSO LUCY POPPING THE BALLOONS SPENCER GOT HER (I HATE MYSELF, IM SO CRUEL AND I LIVE IT 🤪🤪🤪
What sort of things are you most curious about? Lemme know what you think. I love interacting with comments!!
Chapter 8 summarised through Captain Holt memes:
Lucy when surprise birthday parties exist:
The people when Spencer and Lucy share:
Lucy leaving Rossi's office:
Me when I think about Lucy's horrific backstory that I myself created:
Marianne when Molly leaves with Eddie (yeah, a lot to unpack here):