EIGHT ; CONFESS, DISTRESS.
IT WAS A challenge to stump the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, but Elliot Higgins had risen to the occasion and succeeded.
His laptop, which was now in the possession of the Bureau, had left the team with a sour taste in their mouth. The locked computer had what Garcia called a 'guess limit', and unfortunately, they only had three attempts left. It was frustrating, to say the least. No one knew what the five places could be, and if they believed that they did, they didn't want to risk being wrong.
"For all we know, it could be a random line of letters and numbers that only Higgins knows," said JJ, hand placed underneath her chin to support her head as she rested on it.
Prentiss shrugged, as if evaluating her friend's point. "That is possible, but that's not the way that The Horsemen do things," she replied. She sounded regretful. "Everything represents something. Every problem that they throw at us is ultimately a part of their game."
Quinn nodded. "Em's right. They want to prove to us that they're smarter. They see their puzzles as a way to do this."
"Well, I can't say that they haven't been successful," Rossi muttered.
There was a knock at the door, followed by an overdramatic sigh. The team turned to face Derek Morgan, watching as he shook his head at them. "What? I'm not even gone for a year and you're suffering without me?"
Quinn froze, immediately turning away from him, eyes wide. As her colleagues got up to greet him, she remained seated, too frightened of the outcome to move. She heard him greet JJ, Rossi, Emily, Hotch, Garcia, and Spencer, hearing the doctor laugh as Morgan ruffled his hair. He was introduced to Alvez, Lewis, and Baldwin, suddenly going quiet as Quinn felt eyes on her.
"Hotch," she heard Morgan's voice say. She detected curiosity, disbelief and a slight sense of anger in his tone. "Who's this?"
The room went silent. Hotch placed a hand on Morgan's shoulder, unsure of how to approach the situation. He had remembered how he had reacted when Prentiss had returned. "Morgan—"
"Is that-"
"Morgan, why don't you step outside with me for a moment?" Emily said carefully.
Derek shook his head, taking Hotch's hand off and moving closer to where Quinn sat. "Quinn?" he asked, voice soft. Quinn shut her eyes. When she didn't reply, he moved closer. "Q? Is that you?"
Quinn didn't need to answer. With her silence, Morgan had his already. He approached her cautiously, rounding the chair she sat in. When the two met eyes, Morgan froze momentarily, as if he had seen a ghost. He then shook his head, stood up straight and looked at Aaron.
"C'mon Hotch," he muttered. "Not again. You did it again?"
"Morgan-"
"Two years, Hotch. Two years. Even when I left the Bureau, you didn't even have the decency to tell me that she was alive?"
The leader remained stoic. "You know why we did it for Prentiss. The same circumstances were in place for Carson."
Morgan shook his head once more, glancing down at Quinn. She mustered up the courage to say four words. "Please don't hate me," she whispered, tearing her eyes away from Derek, unable to look him in the eye.
She heard him sigh. Morgan ran a hand down his face, before crouching down to her level and placing his hand over hers. "I could never," he told her. Quinn felt a slight weight fall off of her shoulders. "Look at me." When she didn't, he squeezed her hand. "Q, look at me." She met his eyes. "I could never hate you." A smile ghosted his lips. "That would be like me hating puppies, or something like that." Quinn chuckled softly, looking away from him and shaking her head. Morgan followed in suit, laughter dying out as he went to speak. "C'mere kid," he said, standing her up and engulfing her into a hug.
Quinn smiled as he did so, reciprocating the action. "I'm so sorry," she whispered to him, feeling him shake his head.
"I get why it had to happen, Q. Don't apologize for it."
Quinn nodded, releasing Morgan from her arms and turning to the group. Prentiss then swiftly changed topics, focusing on the laptop before them. "So," she said, eyes on Derek. "What do you know about this laptop?"
"Besides that it's password protected and belongs to one of the members of the new team of douchebags?" He shook his head. "Not much."
"We have three tries left on the password," Garcia stated. "We've tried everything from Horse to the first 5 digits of his birthday. We've been disappointed each time."
Morgan nodded. "You said it was five letters?"
"Or numbers," added Alvez. "It could be either-or and that's what makes it dangerous."
Morgan's eyes fell on Quinn. "Did you try her name?"
There was a brief quiet. "Quinn's?" asked Spencer. Morgan nodded. The team shared a glance, mentally kicking themselves for not thinking of that sooner.
"We will now," Garcia said, opening the laptop and pressing her fingers in he corresponding keys.
Q U I N N.
Their hope soon faded as the screen turned red, displaying the words Incorrect Password on the screen, followed by 2 Attempts Left.
Morgan frowned. "Sorry," he muttered. A small smile appeared on his lips. "It was worth a shot."
Hotch looked up from the laptop to meet Penelope's eyes. "Garcia, I want you to get me everything in your power about Elliot Higgins. I know that you're most likely come up dry in most places, but I want you to try."
"Sir, yes sir," she said, collecting her belongings and parting from the table.
"Work your magic, baby girl," Morgan cheered.
Garcia turned to him with a wide grin. "You don't know how much I missed hearing those words."
As she left, Hotch turned to the other members of the team. "As for the rest of you, I want you to go through the files we have about the Horsemen. Anything even remotely significant I want noted upon. This password has to be in there somewhere."
-----
BY THE TIME that the sun had set, Quinn Carson was sat in her apartment, mindlessly distracting herself with a repeat of a television show she had seen too many times. She was half asleep and buried in blankets and had ordered food, the remainders of it left scattered on her coffee table.
So, when she heard three knocks on her door, she was disoriented to say the least.
She moved from her couch and trudged to the door, rubbing her eyes in an attempt to wake herself up.
"Connor, if you're still looking for your Britney Spears CD, I can guarentee you that I don't have-" Quinn paused, meeting eyes with Spencer, blinking at him lazily. "You're not Connor."
"I am not," he said, walking straight into Quinn's apartment. She furrowed her eyebrows at his forwardness, gaze falling on his fidgeting hands and tensed body language. He was nervous. Why? "You're not expecting him, are you?"
Quinn shook her head, rubbing her eyes once more. "No. He's just been looking for that CD for a week now and insists that he left it in here." She glanced at him suspiciously. "What's wrong?"
"Why do you think that something's wrong?" he asked. Spencer was met with a blank stare, sighing softly as he got the message. "It's nothing, Quinn. I just, uh-" he blinked twice, "-wanted to check in on you." Lie.
"Why are you lying?" The genius sighed again, running a hand down his face. "Spencer, what's wrong?"
Quinn watched as he sat down on the sofa he had slept upon, foot tapping against the carpet. "There-There's something that I need to talk to you about."
She tilted her head sideways, mind racing with things that he could possibly have to tell her. Had there been a development in the case? Was she in danger again? Was the team in danger? Had they opened the laptop?
Quinn sat beside him, wary to the situation. "You can talk to me about anything, you know that," she told him, trying to ease his nerves.
He didn't look at her. "This is different."
"Different how?" she asked.
After a moment, he finally met her eyes. "It's going to change everything."
Quinn looked at him, confused as to why he was speaking so drastically. She could feel her nerves rising. "How do you mean?"
His eyes fell to the floor, as if he were trying to find the correct words. However, before he could answer, Quinn heard her laptop give off an alert, drawing the attention of them both.
Quinn paled, watching as Spencer furrowed his brow. There was a hint of recollection drawn on his face, remembering the sound from two years ago. "Was that-"
"My email?" Quinn finished quickly, formulating a lie in her mind. She nodded, gulping as Spencer's eyebrows drew closer. "Baldwin and I had planned a quick confrence call with Bridges tonight about a case we're consulting on."
"Who's Bridges?"
"He's a detective down at Scotland Yard. He likes to get my opinion on cases he can't crack." Quinn shrugged nonchalantly. "I actually had forgotten about it until now."
Spencer looked at her skeptically. He had a feeling that she was lying to him, but had forgotten how hard she was to read. He nodded, biting the inside of his cheek. Quinn saw the look of frustation on his face.
"It can wait, though," she insisted, placing her hand over his. He froze momentarily, but soon shook his head.
"Work comes first," he replied with a regretful smile. Quinn felt her stomach churn. She was a terrible person. She couldn't believe that she was lying to him again. He moved from the sofa, making his way to the door. He looked discouraged. "I'm sorry for barging in here."
Quinn frowned. "I'm sorry about my work," she responded, chest feeling heavy.
She saw a hint of a smile flicker across his face. "I'll see you tomorrow, Quinn."
She nodded, following in suit and bidding him goodbye. Quinn shut the door softly, leaning back on it with a racing heart. What had he wanted to talk to her about?
For now, Quinn placed that on the back burner. The email was looming over her.
She walked toward her desk, sitting down and unlocking her laptop. When she opened her mail, her heart dropped as she found exactly what she had been expecting. The Horsemen email had replied to her, and the file was waiting to be opened.
In a moment of courage, she clicked on the email, eyes scanning the words that had been written in response.
It's a good thing that I still check this thing from time to time. You're clever Carson, thinking to contact me like this. Does your team know what you're doing?
Quinn clenched her jaw. Hesitantly, she placed her fingers upon the keys. Did she really want to engage in this?
Her curiosity had already answered for her, as it had in the past.
Don't avoid the question. Why now?
She sat back in her chair, mentally cursing herself for playing with fire. She never understood why she let herself get burned.
The response was nearly immediate.
So your team doesn't know what you're doing. Interesting.
Quinn clicked on the email that followed.
There's something symbolic about the number two, don't you think?
She wasn't confused by Kyle's cryptic ways, but she was intrigued by whatever symbolism he believed that the number two had. What did he mean?
If she wanted answers, she'd have to play along.
Personally, I prefer the number three. What's special about two?
Her mind was spinning. She attempted to recall any past conversation about numbers with him, but came up blank. What was he getting at?
Three's a crowd.
Quinn shook her head, getting more confused with each message.
As for two, you'll find out.
She was unable to piece together a story, unsure of what he could have possibly meant by any of his words. Why were numbers important? What symbolism did they hold?
Quinn didn't know. But she knew someone who probably did.
-----
when i say lazy you say writing ! lazy ! *screeching from the crowd* WRITING
my apologies for this chapter and for not updating frequently, i was in europe this past week and have been extremely busy these past couple of weeks. i want to die.
also, thank you to everyone who wrote reviews for trepidation. i deadass cried with every one i read. i love you all.
anyway, thank you all for reading ! hope it was somewhat enjoyable!
love you all tons!
-mags