Transhuman, 19/?
Title: Transhuman
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Characters/Pairing: Garcia-centric, team - gen
Genre: Science-fiction/Drama
Summary: In a dystopian future, hacker Penelope Garcia finds herself being hunted by a corrupt organization. Fearing for her life, she must search for help in the strangest of places.
Author’s Note: Betaed by Windy City Dreamer
Chapter Nineteen
Morgan stared at the unconscious woman for several seconds. He couldn’t quite believe that it was true. After so long, he had finally found the Corp Agent that had been feeding him intelligence. The blood was trickling down the side of her head, and her clothes were dirty and torn. The only thing that seemed undamaged was the backpack on her shoulder,
Not quite what he expected. For one thing, he imagined she’d be awake.
‘We should move out,’ Garcia said, eyes darting around, as though just waiting for the ball to drop. ‘If they sent him to lead us into a trap, then there’s no way there aren’t more Corp agents waiting to take us out.’
Morgan frowned, unsure of what to do. He was the only one that could carry the unconscious woman, but he couldn’t do that and keep them defended at the same time.
‘Wait,’ said Spencer, frowning. ‘Wait. Look at her face - does she look familiar to you?’
Morgan squinted, trying to see past the darkening bruises. Spencer was right - he’d seen this face before, he just wasn’t quite sure where.
‘Press conferences,’ Spencer said eventually, and then everything clicked. Morgan remembered the dark-haired woman announcing changes to Glamrail. He remembered the name flashing at the bottom of the screen.
‘Prentiss,’ he murmured.
‘Wait,’ said Garcia. ‘Prentiss? As in Deputy Director “I’m going to kidnap your children while they sleep and eat them for breakfast” Prentiss?’
Morgan shook his head. ‘We can’t just leave her here - she saved our lives.’
‘I know,’ Garcia said, exasperated. ‘It’s just…’
‘No matter what happens, we aren’t going to stop watching our backs, Garcia,’ he said.
She didn’t seem entirely pleased with the answer, but then, there wasn’t that much time to argue. They needed to get out of the area, fast.
He knelt down beside the woman - Prentiss. No. Montana. She’d always be Montana to him - and picked up her gun, offering it to Garcia and Spencer in turn. Garcia took a step back, shaking her head.
‘I don’t do guns.’
Spencer took the weapon, his hands shaking slightly. Morgan would much have preferred some other way, but he was out of options. If he put her in a fireman hold, he’d have one hand free to shoot if he needed to. If the shooting did start, he might have to drop her pretty quickly. He passed Prentiss’ pack over to Garcia - he didn’t want to go searching through her stuff, even if they could have used it.
Garcia knew the slums best, so she led the way, taking them the long way round, with numerous detours and double backs. If anyone was tracking them somehow, they were going to have a hell of a time. Getting there from the hideout had taken a little more than twenty minutes. Getting back they were heading into the second hour.
They were holding out in the basement of a derelict apartment building when Montana woke up. She put a hand to her head, fingers coming away red - they hadn’t quite had the chance, or the materials, to clean her up.
She blinked several times, evidently confused. ‘I…Where am I?’ she managed to choke out. Not waiting for an answer, she reached to her shoulder for the backpack that wasn’t there. The moment she realized this, she sat up fast, or at she tried to. Hands clutching at her ribs, she fell back down to the floor. ‘Water - there’s a…’
Garcia opened the bag quickly, pulling out the bottle and passing it over to Morgan. ‘Sit up slowly,’ he said, trying to make his voice as calming as possible. ‘I think you bruised some ribs.’
‘I didn’t bruise them,’ she managed, taking slow sips of the water. ‘Somebody else’s foot bruised them.’ She looked around, a little less confused, and then asked again, ‘Where am I?’
Morgan wasn’t quite sure how to answer the question. ‘On our way to a safe place,’ he said eventually. His brow furrowed. ‘Do you know who I am?’
‘You’re…I…Shit.’ She put a hand to her head, eyes closed tight, and teeth worrying her lips. ‘Yes. No. I should, but I…I don’t know what’s wrong.’
‘Pilgrim,’ he said, and her eyes widened. ‘Do you know that name?’
‘Yes.’ Her eyes widened. ‘Pilgrim. Pilgrim. Derek.’ Her hand went to her pocket, and she pulled out a folded piece of paper. ‘She said she was sorry. I don’t…’ She handed him the paper, clearly unsure of what she was doing.
Things are not what they seem.
He turned the paper over, turned it upside down, damn near turned it inside out looking for something other than those six words. He recognized that handwriting. That was Elle’s handwriting.
‘Who gave you this?’ he demanded, with a little more hostility than he’d intended.
Prentiss - Montana - shook her head, unperturbed by his aggression. ‘She never told me her name. But…she saved my life. I think. Dark hair, early thirties. Corp, but…not by birth. Conditioned.’
‘Son of a bitch,’ Morgan said, scrunching the note into a ball. How could he have fucked things up so much: Elle hadn’t turned on them, she’d been captured. And he was too thick to have noticed.
‘What’s wrong?’ Garcia asked, and he wasn’t quite sure it was something that could be explained in the short amount of time that they had. They needed to get back to Hotch, JJ and Kevin.
Things had just gotten that much more complicated.
‘Not now,’ he told her, and turned his attention back towards Prentiss. ‘Do you have a first aid kit in that bag of yours?’
‘Front pocket,’ she told him. ‘The grey case…Yeah, that one.’ He used the kit to clean the wound on her head. There wasn’t enough time to stitch it up - they’d do that when they got back to the safehouse. Instead, he pressed a piece of gauze over it, hoping that it would suffice for the time being.
‘Come on then, Prentiss.’ He held out a hand to help her off the ground, but she just stared at it for a few seconds.
‘Emily,’ she told him, standing without his help. ‘Prentiss is…not me.’
‘So you’re not denying that she’s your mother?’
Emily scoffed. ‘It’s not like I can deny it. It’s not a secret.’ She brushed her hair back with a hand, staring at the white bandage in a cracked mirror that hung on the wall. ‘It’s an accident of birth.’ She accepted the backpack from Garcia, but told Reid to keep the gun, which Morgan raised an eyebrow at, before realizing that her eyes were still a little unfocused, and her skin was pale, and he could see the thin lines of sweat starting to form on her brow.
They weren’t out of the woods yet.
‘Can you walk?’ he asked, certain he already knew what the answer was going to be.
‘Yes. I’ve had way worse than a couple of busted ribs.’ The statement called for elaboration, but there wasn’t any, and it wasn’t the time or the place to ask, so they got moving.
‘There’s no-one following,’ Emily assured them, after they doubled back and around a street block.
‘Are you sure?’
She nodded. ‘They would have taken you out by now to get the chip - it’s far more important than finding other members of the resistance.’
Morgan frowned at that. He didn’t know exactly what was on the chip, but if it was that bad, then they could really do some damage to the Corp.
‘And if we didn’t have it…?’ he started. He knew the answer to that question, too. This was just confirmation.
‘Then they’d torture you to find out where it was.’
Morgan gave a bitter laugh. That was the Corp for you.
The rest of the trip was uneventful, the most exciting thing that happened was Spencer tripping over a grate and almost shooting himself in the foot. A rag-tag group of rebels, they dragged themselves up to the apartment safehouse. Morgan knocked on the door three times, then waited before knocking twice. The door swung open, and Hotch gave him a grim smile.
‘You took your sweet time,’ he said.
‘We had some problems,’ Morgan admitted. Hotch let his eyes run over the group, pausing the longest on the newcomer. Emily held his gaze.
‘Looks like. You want to come inside and tell me what the hell happened?’
Morgan gave the man a tired grin. ‘Coffee first - then storytime.’
He stepped past Hotch into the apartment. JJ and Kevin were playing cards at the small wooden table. In spite of himself, the sight made his heart warm.
They’d only been gone a few hours, but damn, it was good to be back.
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Characters/Pairing: Garcia-centric, team - gen
Genre: Science-fiction/Drama
Summary: In a dystopian future, hacker Penelope Garcia finds herself being hunted by a corrupt organization. Fearing for her life, she must search for help in the strangest of places.
Author’s Note: Betaed by Windy City Dreamer
Chapter Nineteen
Morgan stared at the unconscious woman for several seconds. He couldn’t quite believe that it was true. After so long, he had finally found the Corp Agent that had been feeding him intelligence. The blood was trickling down the side of her head, and her clothes were dirty and torn. The only thing that seemed undamaged was the backpack on her shoulder,
Not quite what he expected. For one thing, he imagined she’d be awake.
‘We should move out,’ Garcia said, eyes darting around, as though just waiting for the ball to drop. ‘If they sent him to lead us into a trap, then there’s no way there aren’t more Corp agents waiting to take us out.’
Morgan frowned, unsure of what to do. He was the only one that could carry the unconscious woman, but he couldn’t do that and keep them defended at the same time.
‘Wait,’ said Spencer, frowning. ‘Wait. Look at her face - does she look familiar to you?’
Morgan squinted, trying to see past the darkening bruises. Spencer was right - he’d seen this face before, he just wasn’t quite sure where.
‘Press conferences,’ Spencer said eventually, and then everything clicked. Morgan remembered the dark-haired woman announcing changes to Glamrail. He remembered the name flashing at the bottom of the screen.
‘Prentiss,’ he murmured.
‘Wait,’ said Garcia. ‘Prentiss? As in Deputy Director “I’m going to kidnap your children while they sleep and eat them for breakfast” Prentiss?’
Morgan shook his head. ‘We can’t just leave her here - she saved our lives.’
‘I know,’ Garcia said, exasperated. ‘It’s just…’
‘No matter what happens, we aren’t going to stop watching our backs, Garcia,’ he said.
She didn’t seem entirely pleased with the answer, but then, there wasn’t that much time to argue. They needed to get out of the area, fast.
He knelt down beside the woman - Prentiss. No. Montana. She’d always be Montana to him - and picked up her gun, offering it to Garcia and Spencer in turn. Garcia took a step back, shaking her head.
‘I don’t do guns.’
Spencer took the weapon, his hands shaking slightly. Morgan would much have preferred some other way, but he was out of options. If he put her in a fireman hold, he’d have one hand free to shoot if he needed to. If the shooting did start, he might have to drop her pretty quickly. He passed Prentiss’ pack over to Garcia - he didn’t want to go searching through her stuff, even if they could have used it.
Garcia knew the slums best, so she led the way, taking them the long way round, with numerous detours and double backs. If anyone was tracking them somehow, they were going to have a hell of a time. Getting there from the hideout had taken a little more than twenty minutes. Getting back they were heading into the second hour.
They were holding out in the basement of a derelict apartment building when Montana woke up. She put a hand to her head, fingers coming away red - they hadn’t quite had the chance, or the materials, to clean her up.
She blinked several times, evidently confused. ‘I…Where am I?’ she managed to choke out. Not waiting for an answer, she reached to her shoulder for the backpack that wasn’t there. The moment she realized this, she sat up fast, or at she tried to. Hands clutching at her ribs, she fell back down to the floor. ‘Water - there’s a…’
Garcia opened the bag quickly, pulling out the bottle and passing it over to Morgan. ‘Sit up slowly,’ he said, trying to make his voice as calming as possible. ‘I think you bruised some ribs.’
‘I didn’t bruise them,’ she managed, taking slow sips of the water. ‘Somebody else’s foot bruised them.’ She looked around, a little less confused, and then asked again, ‘Where am I?’
Morgan wasn’t quite sure how to answer the question. ‘On our way to a safe place,’ he said eventually. His brow furrowed. ‘Do you know who I am?’
‘You’re…I…Shit.’ She put a hand to her head, eyes closed tight, and teeth worrying her lips. ‘Yes. No. I should, but I…I don’t know what’s wrong.’
‘Pilgrim,’ he said, and her eyes widened. ‘Do you know that name?’
‘Yes.’ Her eyes widened. ‘Pilgrim. Pilgrim. Derek.’ Her hand went to her pocket, and she pulled out a folded piece of paper. ‘She said she was sorry. I don’t…’ She handed him the paper, clearly unsure of what she was doing.
Things are not what they seem.
He turned the paper over, turned it upside down, damn near turned it inside out looking for something other than those six words. He recognized that handwriting. That was Elle’s handwriting.
‘Who gave you this?’ he demanded, with a little more hostility than he’d intended.
Prentiss - Montana - shook her head, unperturbed by his aggression. ‘She never told me her name. But…she saved my life. I think. Dark hair, early thirties. Corp, but…not by birth. Conditioned.’
‘Son of a bitch,’ Morgan said, scrunching the note into a ball. How could he have fucked things up so much: Elle hadn’t turned on them, she’d been captured. And he was too thick to have noticed.
‘What’s wrong?’ Garcia asked, and he wasn’t quite sure it was something that could be explained in the short amount of time that they had. They needed to get back to Hotch, JJ and Kevin.
Things had just gotten that much more complicated.
‘Not now,’ he told her, and turned his attention back towards Prentiss. ‘Do you have a first aid kit in that bag of yours?’
‘Front pocket,’ she told him. ‘The grey case…Yeah, that one.’ He used the kit to clean the wound on her head. There wasn’t enough time to stitch it up - they’d do that when they got back to the safehouse. Instead, he pressed a piece of gauze over it, hoping that it would suffice for the time being.
‘Come on then, Prentiss.’ He held out a hand to help her off the ground, but she just stared at it for a few seconds.
‘Emily,’ she told him, standing without his help. ‘Prentiss is…not me.’
‘So you’re not denying that she’s your mother?’
Emily scoffed. ‘It’s not like I can deny it. It’s not a secret.’ She brushed her hair back with a hand, staring at the white bandage in a cracked mirror that hung on the wall. ‘It’s an accident of birth.’ She accepted the backpack from Garcia, but told Reid to keep the gun, which Morgan raised an eyebrow at, before realizing that her eyes were still a little unfocused, and her skin was pale, and he could see the thin lines of sweat starting to form on her brow.
They weren’t out of the woods yet.
‘Can you walk?’ he asked, certain he already knew what the answer was going to be.
‘Yes. I’ve had way worse than a couple of busted ribs.’ The statement called for elaboration, but there wasn’t any, and it wasn’t the time or the place to ask, so they got moving.
‘There’s no-one following,’ Emily assured them, after they doubled back and around a street block.
‘Are you sure?’
She nodded. ‘They would have taken you out by now to get the chip - it’s far more important than finding other members of the resistance.’
Morgan frowned at that. He didn’t know exactly what was on the chip, but if it was that bad, then they could really do some damage to the Corp.
‘And if we didn’t have it…?’ he started. He knew the answer to that question, too. This was just confirmation.
‘Then they’d torture you to find out where it was.’
Morgan gave a bitter laugh. That was the Corp for you.
The rest of the trip was uneventful, the most exciting thing that happened was Spencer tripping over a grate and almost shooting himself in the foot. A rag-tag group of rebels, they dragged themselves up to the apartment safehouse. Morgan knocked on the door three times, then waited before knocking twice. The door swung open, and Hotch gave him a grim smile.
‘You took your sweet time,’ he said.
‘We had some problems,’ Morgan admitted. Hotch let his eyes run over the group, pausing the longest on the newcomer. Emily held his gaze.
‘Looks like. You want to come inside and tell me what the hell happened?’
Morgan gave the man a tired grin. ‘Coffee first - then storytime.’
He stepped past Hotch into the apartment. JJ and Kevin were playing cards at the small wooden table. In spite of himself, the sight made his heart warm.
They’d only been gone a few hours, but damn, it was good to be back.