The Woods, 4/?
Jennifer Jareau is seventeen years old.
She is considered strong by many of her peers, both emotionally and physically. She is considered highly intelligent by her teachers. Her mother is proud of her.
A friend suggest going on a camping trip, to commemorate their victory in the soccer final, but she declines, citing academic reasons. The real reason is far more sinister.
Because even after almost ten years, Jennifer Jareau will not go into the woods.
* * *
Upon finishing their interviews, Reid and Rossi returned to the police station, only to find that they were the first ones back. Their news was not comforting - there was no connection between the victims that they could readily determine, in spite of the small town overlap. All the victims had different reasons for being near the woods - for now, they would have to put victimology down to “crime of opportunity.” While this suggested that their unsub was a disorganized offender, the fact that the bodies showed up days later in a specific location suggested that he was organized.
They were not yet fazed - no case was ever textbook. Unsubs did not readily adhere to the rules laid down for them. This killer, they knew, would not be the easiest to profile. Already he - he? - was showing severely conflicted behaviors.
‘Having two unsubs wouldn’t make sense,’ Reid was saying. ‘A dominant unsub would never allow the submissive to take control of the situation.’
They threw theories around for half an hour, culminating in Rossi’s suggestion of an unsub with Multiple Personality Disorder. Reid flinched almost imperceptibly.
The sound of footsteps told them that JJ and Hotch were approaching. The two distinct gaits were vastly different from those of Morgan and Prentiss.
‘Anything?’ Rossi asked of his superior.
Hotch shook his head. JJ said nothing.
The rest of the interviews had been difficult for her. She could not get the image of her father’s body out of her mind. It taunted her with every question they asked, mocked her with every answer they received.
‘I’m going to get some coffee,’ JJ mumbled, uncharacteristically. Usually the media liaison maintained a level of clarity in all situations. After a significant glance towards Rossi, Hotch followed. He had known that everything was not alright with JJ, even after she continually maintained her own sanity.
‘I think you should take some time,’ Hotch told her, pouring half and half into his own coffee cup.
JJ opened her mouth to protest.
‘I can see that this case is affecting you, JJ. I’m saying this both as your boss and your friend. Take some time, even if it’s just the rest of today.’
She nodded. He was right, after all. Maybe she’d go back to that tiny motel that they’d booked into, run herself a bath, and mull things over.
Just for the rest of today.
* * *
Jennifer Jareau is twenty-one years old when she first goes into the woods again. She won’t admit it to anyone else, but she’s terrified. She walks slowly, balls of her feet not touching the ground. She’s ready to run if need be.
But nothing happens.
Her heart beats quickly, her breath comes in short, soft gasps, but it’s a biochemical response that is preparing her for an event that doesn’t come.
Not yet.
* * *
They walked for what felt like miles in the direction they came from, but the scenery didn’t seem to change. Both are on high alert, guns held tightly. They didn’t speak.
Emily had torn off her shirt sleeve to wrap Morgan’s wound, and now she was increasingly aware of the chill that surrounded them.
‘This is really fucked up,’ Emily said eventually. Morgan stared at her, surprised. He had no recollection of her ever using that word before. ‘We definitely should have gotten back to the SUV by now. This isn’t just about some claw beast.’
‘So, what,’ he said. ‘You think that the forest changed as well. I mean, sure, it got a little darker, but you think we sort of...changed forests, or something?’ He was not being consciously sceptical, but he had to admit - the notion of trees playing musical chairs seemed very off to him. Part of him wanted to believe that they had simply gone the wrong way, and that the strange monster that had sliced open his arm had been just a figment of his imagination.
He had a gut feeling though, that this wasn’t going to end well. The forest - the new forest - had a dark, foreboding air, even without the claw beast within visual range.
‘Could be a living forest,’ suggested Emily, with no less scepticism in her voice. This whole supernatural thing was a new experience for her. It would take a few more years of practice before she could use the phrase “living forest” without feeling like a complete idiot.
‘Whatever it is,’ said Morgan. ‘I think we need to focus on one thing: How the hell do we get out?’
She is considered strong by many of her peers, both emotionally and physically. She is considered highly intelligent by her teachers. Her mother is proud of her.
A friend suggest going on a camping trip, to commemorate their victory in the soccer final, but she declines, citing academic reasons. The real reason is far more sinister.
Because even after almost ten years, Jennifer Jareau will not go into the woods.
* * *
Upon finishing their interviews, Reid and Rossi returned to the police station, only to find that they were the first ones back. Their news was not comforting - there was no connection between the victims that they could readily determine, in spite of the small town overlap. All the victims had different reasons for being near the woods - for now, they would have to put victimology down to “crime of opportunity.” While this suggested that their unsub was a disorganized offender, the fact that the bodies showed up days later in a specific location suggested that he was organized.
They were not yet fazed - no case was ever textbook. Unsubs did not readily adhere to the rules laid down for them. This killer, they knew, would not be the easiest to profile. Already he - he? - was showing severely conflicted behaviors.
‘Having two unsubs wouldn’t make sense,’ Reid was saying. ‘A dominant unsub would never allow the submissive to take control of the situation.’
They threw theories around for half an hour, culminating in Rossi’s suggestion of an unsub with Multiple Personality Disorder. Reid flinched almost imperceptibly.
The sound of footsteps told them that JJ and Hotch were approaching. The two distinct gaits were vastly different from those of Morgan and Prentiss.
‘Anything?’ Rossi asked of his superior.
Hotch shook his head. JJ said nothing.
The rest of the interviews had been difficult for her. She could not get the image of her father’s body out of her mind. It taunted her with every question they asked, mocked her with every answer they received.
‘I’m going to get some coffee,’ JJ mumbled, uncharacteristically. Usually the media liaison maintained a level of clarity in all situations. After a significant glance towards Rossi, Hotch followed. He had known that everything was not alright with JJ, even after she continually maintained her own sanity.
‘I think you should take some time,’ Hotch told her, pouring half and half into his own coffee cup.
JJ opened her mouth to protest.
‘I can see that this case is affecting you, JJ. I’m saying this both as your boss and your friend. Take some time, even if it’s just the rest of today.’
She nodded. He was right, after all. Maybe she’d go back to that tiny motel that they’d booked into, run herself a bath, and mull things over.
Just for the rest of today.
* * *
Jennifer Jareau is twenty-one years old when she first goes into the woods again. She won’t admit it to anyone else, but she’s terrified. She walks slowly, balls of her feet not touching the ground. She’s ready to run if need be.
But nothing happens.
Her heart beats quickly, her breath comes in short, soft gasps, but it’s a biochemical response that is preparing her for an event that doesn’t come.
Not yet.
* * *
They walked for what felt like miles in the direction they came from, but the scenery didn’t seem to change. Both are on high alert, guns held tightly. They didn’t speak.
Emily had torn off her shirt sleeve to wrap Morgan’s wound, and now she was increasingly aware of the chill that surrounded them.
‘This is really fucked up,’ Emily said eventually. Morgan stared at her, surprised. He had no recollection of her ever using that word before. ‘We definitely should have gotten back to the SUV by now. This isn’t just about some claw beast.’
‘So, what,’ he said. ‘You think that the forest changed as well. I mean, sure, it got a little darker, but you think we sort of...changed forests, or something?’ He was not being consciously sceptical, but he had to admit - the notion of trees playing musical chairs seemed very off to him. Part of him wanted to believe that they had simply gone the wrong way, and that the strange monster that had sliced open his arm had been just a figment of his imagination.
He had a gut feeling though, that this wasn’t going to end well. The forest - the new forest - had a dark, foreboding air, even without the claw beast within visual range.
‘Could be a living forest,’ suggested Emily, with no less scepticism in her voice. This whole supernatural thing was a new experience for her. It would take a few more years of practice before she could use the phrase “living forest” without feeling like a complete idiot.
‘Whatever it is,’ said Morgan. ‘I think we need to focus on one thing: How the hell do we get out?’