When Reid ‘heard’ Hotch’s voice, he roused a confounded Ana and insisted on going out into the night again.
To avoid getting separated he had Ana follow him as he traversed the perimeter of the building. Even with a flashlight, he kept one hand on the exterior wall, using it as a guide and an anchor to keep from being swallowed by the darkness. But despite shouting Hotch’s name as loudly as they could, there was no answer.
Finally, Reid admitted defeat and they went inside to wait for dawn. The young doctor spent the rest of the night ‘listening.’
Before the sun had fully risen, Reid and Ana had packed their bags, as well as Hotch’s.
“How are we supposed to get out of here, if she doesn’t drive us?” Ana could feel Spencer’s anger overlaying a deep, guilty self-loathing for having trusted Dr. Bescardi. It worried her. She loved his trusting nature. But she knew that such people could become jaded cynics if that trust was abused too often. The quiet discussions they’d had in their brief relationship led her to believe that Spencer had already suffered more than his share of broken promises and cruel hoaxes.
Ana had loved to read plays when she was in high school. In a private corner of her mind, when she thought of Spencer, she was reminded of ‘The Glass Menagerie.’ She was a misfit herself and he was her glass unicorn, bringing something beautiful and fragile into her life.
She didn’t want him broken.
“She’s not driving us anywhere. If I have to, I’ll take the keys to her van away from her and we’ll use that to get out of here.” Reid took a last look around to make sure they’d left nothing behind. “But I know I heard Hotch last night. And yesterday you had that vision of him in the woods. I wanna look for him, but our best bet might be getting to the closest town and putting together a search party or something.” He’d been talking in a rapid, staccato way. It was speech propelled by pure frustration.
They were leaving their cell, about to go in search of Bescardi when Reid had to give vent to his anger. Ana watched him drop his go-bag to the floor and slam the flat of his hand against the stone wall with a resounding smack. “Damn it, Ana! I don’t know enough about myself anymore to be useful!” When he turned to look at her, his eyes were full. “We came here because we need to learn. She was supposed to help us. I knew her priorities were screwed up, but I don’t know anyone else who can teach me what I need to know.”
He rubbed at his eyes. “And I still don’t see how she could have done anything to Hotch. But I know he’s in trouble. Something happened. Maybe she’s got nothing to do with it, but she doesn’t even care! How can someone, especially a doctor, be so lacking in compassion?”
Ana put her own bag down and hugged her friend. “Spencer, she’s not here to help us. She’s here to study us. And, sure, we’d learn stuff along the way, but…” She drew back so he could see the earnest light in her alpine eyes. “…I think the best way to learn about what we can do and where it might lead, is from each other. And others like us, if we can find them.”
Reid gave her a sad smile. “If there were others like us, we wouldn’t be the only ones here. It’s just us, Ana.”
“We don’t know that for sure. Maybe we just have to find them.” Maybe there’s a whole menagerie of glass animals like us.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, Reid nodded and picked up his bag again. “First, let’s find Hotch.”
xxxxxxx
Morgan made good on his pledge to drive nonstop until they found the location of the psychic retreat.
After Rossi had driven several hours, he put forth the tentative suggestion that they find lodgings for the night. Morgan told him to pull over and switch places.
When Rossi pointed out signs for diners, Morgan responded by tossing chips and candy at him.
Finally, Rossi accepted that the only stops they’d be making were for gas and bathroom breaks. But he had to admit, they did make good time. By the following morning, they were in the last outpost of civilization, asking directions to the abandoned monastery three hours’ drive to the northeast.
As Reid was searching for Dr. Bescardi, Rossi and Morgan were on the last leg of their journey.
xxxxxxx
Dr. Bescardi was devastated.
She’d stayed awake all night. At one point she heard her test subjects calling Aaron Hotchner’s name into the woods. She didn’t bother to check on them. She wasn’t worried. No one could find their way in the total darkness either to or from the monastery. She’d worry when morning came.
She placed her hands flat on the pile of hardcopy she’d printed out and bowed her head in mourning. It contained all the data from the first day of testing. Particularly interesting had been the blood samples she’d taken. She would need better lab facilities to thoroughly analyze them, but what little she could do on her own showed a change in chemistry. There was still much to be done, but tantalizing possibilities arced and jetted through her mind like fireworks.
If their blood changes when they’re using their gifts, their abilities might be the result of peculiar chemical combinations. It could be replicated. What would a transfusion from one of them do to a normal person? What would happen if individual factors were isolated? Could I increase their abilities by rebalancing the components of their blood? Could I transform someone ordinary into someone gifted in the same fashion?
She envisioned publication after publication. Magazine covers. Television specials devoted to her. A Nobel prize. A lifetime of adulation.
She had overestimated Dr. Reid. She had thought his native intelligence would go hand-in-hand with an elevated sense of purpose. But he was rebelling. He placed more value on a drone like his unpleasant boss, than on steering the course of humanity. Improving humanity.
She couldn’t understand such short-sightedness.
And she couldn’t let her subjects just walk away. Not when the implications of what she’d already found in such a short time were so astounding.
They hadn’t left yet. There was still time to change their minds.
Dawn was staining the sky through the window with touches of pink and pearl. Bescardi decided she’d try logic first; presenting her case with the added validation of such significant test findings. If that didn’t work, she’d have to resort to more forceful means.
She glanced toward the kitchen where more of the drug she’d dosed Hotchner with waited. Since blood chemistry was the most fascinating find so far, she couldn’t risk doing anything chemical to Dr. Reid. Bescardi sighed.
It would be a shame to lose the girl as a test subject, but sometimes the noble cause of science demanded sacrifices. If her prime subject didn’t listen to reason, she would have no choice. Dr. Bescardi caressed the stack of data before her.
Science could be a harsh mistress.
xxxxxxx
Hotch opened his eyes and realized he’d fallen onto his side.
He pushed himself to a sitting position. There was good news and bad news. He still felt dizzy, but it wasn’t the reeling, sickening kind that had felled him yesterday. But his injured knee had worsened during the night. Inactivity and freezing cold contributed to immobilizing the joint.
His teeth were chattering and he couldn’t stop shivering. It was more than mere shivering; he was quaking from the cold. He tried to lever himself upright and found the quaking bordered on convulsing. It hampered his movements almost as much as the painful knee.
Still, he could stand upright, albeit with the help of a tree trunk at his back, and he could resist the falling sensation. But thirst and hunger were steadfast companions.
The worst part of the situation was that he couldn’t remember which direction he’d been going. He’d kept crawling until full dark and somewhere along the way, he’d veered away from the ravine that had been his guide for retracing his steps. He finally had to admit he was lost.
He was directionless, but not hopeless. I need to keep moving, even if I don’t know where to go, I need to keep moving.
Hotch began the laborious process of pulling himself from tree to tree, staggering in what he hoped was a straight line. Strangely enough, he didn’t feel as alone as he had. He couldn’t explain it, but it felt…comforting, like a pinpoint of warmth somewhere deep inside.
He felt a little giddy and smiled as he limped along, wondering if he was becoming delirious from dehydration. Reid had said something to him a while back about having a gifted soul, as opposed to the young doctor’s own gifts, located in his brain. The warm spot that made him feel less alone felt very centered…and very strange. As though an invisible hand was resting on him…in him…keeping him warm and hopeful. He was too tired to analyze it further.
Maybe it is something in my soul. Maybe Reid was right. Hotch sighed and concentrated on trying to walk without wrenching his knee or losing his balance.
I just wish someone would find me. Or I could stop and let go. That sounds good, too…
Maybe later…