Hidden Desires
Written for 888mph for her generous donation to help_haiti, and thanks for the interesting prompt!
It was a common tactic in interrogations to put yourself on the subject’s side. Give them your support, reassure them that it was alright, the victim deserved it, they wanted it, it wasn’t the subject’s fault. Whatever it took to make them identify with you, and it didn’t take much before the whole story came tumbling out and tear-stricken eyes looked up to find their new best friend was suddenly an authority figure as the tape rolled.
It was always difficult. It took a lot of practice to give admiration or sympathy to a killer when you had seen photos of their victims. Seen glassy eyes staring off into the distance under the bright lights of crime scene photos and close ups of purple bruising on wrists and throats.
Reid had never been particularly talented at it. He could explain in detail why they did what they did, offer any justification that may exist, but he had never been warm or convincing or reassuring as he sat with a killer. He couldn’t be like Morgan or JJ, no matter how he tried.
Adam had been different. When Reid said he wanted to help him out, he was telling the truth. He had looked into the eyes of someone they knew had ended the lives of other human beings and seen something that scared him more than anything he’d ever seen before.
He’d seen something familiar. He’d seen what might have been had he been slightly weaker, had less support or fewer friends. He’d seen a question that would haunt him forever.
What did it say about him that the only victim he’d ever truly connected to had also been the criminal?
Rossi had the children of a couple beaten to death twenty years ago, Emily had a handful of rape victims, the ones considered lucky by society for getting away before they had been murdered but who felt anything but lucky as they told their stories. He had a man who couldn’t remember that his body had been used to rape and murder three men, and try to kill a fourth.
Every week, Reid went to a psychiatric facility surrounded by barbed wire with guards and nurses watching visitors and patients alike with wariness. Every week he sat in a cold grey room with Amanda Jackson, and every week she asked why he still came.
Every week he gave her a different answer. It always boiled down to one truth, that remained unsaid. Reid knew what it was like to be afraid of his own mind. The terror you feel when you wonder if someday you’ll stare in a mirror and not recognise the person who stares back.
Adam was the first person who understood that.
“Amanda. May I talk to Adam?” He asked it, not really expecting a positive answer. It was routine by now, and Reid had always been comfortable with routine.
Amanda tilted her head back, looking Reid directly in the eye through the wispy bangs of her dark hair. It used to be a wig that she would stare through, but Adam had been gone so long that her hair had grown out, tumbling around her shoulders. Sometimes Reid wondered what had happened to the wig. Did she keep it, as some sort of a keepsake, or was it thrown away and lining a landfill somewhere?
She blinked slowly, allowing dark eyelashes to flutter on pale cheeks.
“Adam is in a better place. You know that, Doctor Reid.”
“I know you keep saying it.” He acknowledged, leaning back in his chair.
“But you don’t believe me.” She smiled coldly and leaned forward, tapping his knee with a deep red fingernail. “That hurts. Right here.” She removed the hand from his knee, laying it against her chest.
Reid nodded, resigned to it all. “How long do you think Adam will be happy just staying quiet? He can’t hide forever.”
“Oh, Doctor.” She laughed, seeming honestly amused. It was the first time Reid had seen her show any real emotion other than anger, and he watched, fascinated. “He’ll stay inside forever, if that’s what it takes to keep you here.”
“What do you mean?” Reid frowned, sure he was on the brink of finally understanding them.
She stood, skirt floating around her and stepped forward, hips swaying gently. She stopped and knelt at his side, lips close to his ear and hand clasping his arm, feeling the outline of muscle and bone beneath his long shirt. “Don’t you remember, Doctor? You said you’d keep coming until you find Adam. And Adam wants you to keep coming. Forever.”
She rose elegantly, turning to step into the small beam of light produced by the one small window that sat high in the wall.
“Adam thinks you are special, Doctor. He thinks you understand him.” She twirled, arms raised high and skirts flying around her legs. “But make no mistake, Doctor Reid.” His name and title were said through gritted teeth, and Reid did his best to hide a flinch. “You don’t understand him. Not like me.
“I’ve always protected Adam, always. From his father, from his foster parents, from everyone. And he loves me. No one else. Especially not you.”
Reid’s eyes widened. “Adam is staying hidden because he thinks he’s in love with me?”
“He thinks you’ll leave him. And you will. They always do, except for me.” Her fists clenched by her sides and angry tears started to prick her eyes. “I’ll never leave him. I’m always there, I always loved him. Why is it you?”
“Amanda, I…” Reid rose, reaching out a hand to comfort her, but it was slapped away.
“Don’t touch me.” She snarled. “You don’t get to touch me. Leave.”
Reid nodded reluctantly, picking up his satchel. “Amanda?”
She turned her head in his direction, but refused to reply.
“I’m sorry.”
Her eyes lowered, her shoulders hunched inward. “I’m sorry too.” She took a step forward and brushed her lips against his cheek, stepping back slowly.
“Because I know he’ll never dare.” She explained, and Reid smiled softly at her.
“I know Adam loves you too, Amanda. How could he not?”
He left her standing there, staring ahead blankly at the grey wall. He didn’t hear her whisper softly after him; “But never like he loves you.”
It was a common tactic in interrogations to put yourself on the subject’s side. Give them your support, reassure them that it was alright, the victim deserved it, they wanted it, it wasn’t the subject’s fault. Whatever it took to make them identify with you, and it didn’t take much before the whole story came tumbling out and tear-stricken eyes looked up to find their new best friend was suddenly an authority figure as the tape rolled.
It was always difficult. It took a lot of practice to give admiration or sympathy to a killer when you had seen photos of their victims. Seen glassy eyes staring off into the distance under the bright lights of crime scene photos and close ups of purple bruising on wrists and throats.
Reid had never been particularly talented at it. He could explain in detail why they did what they did, offer any justification that may exist, but he had never been warm or convincing or reassuring as he sat with a killer. He couldn’t be like Morgan or JJ, no matter how he tried.
Adam had been different. When Reid said he wanted to help him out, he was telling the truth. He had looked into the eyes of someone they knew had ended the lives of other human beings and seen something that scared him more than anything he’d ever seen before.
He’d seen something familiar. He’d seen what might have been had he been slightly weaker, had less support or fewer friends. He’d seen a question that would haunt him forever.
What did it say about him that the only victim he’d ever truly connected to had also been the criminal?
Rossi had the children of a couple beaten to death twenty years ago, Emily had a handful of rape victims, the ones considered lucky by society for getting away before they had been murdered but who felt anything but lucky as they told their stories. He had a man who couldn’t remember that his body had been used to rape and murder three men, and try to kill a fourth.
Every week, Reid went to a psychiatric facility surrounded by barbed wire with guards and nurses watching visitors and patients alike with wariness. Every week he sat in a cold grey room with Amanda Jackson, and every week she asked why he still came.
Every week he gave her a different answer. It always boiled down to one truth, that remained unsaid. Reid knew what it was like to be afraid of his own mind. The terror you feel when you wonder if someday you’ll stare in a mirror and not recognise the person who stares back.
Adam was the first person who understood that.
“Amanda. May I talk to Adam?” He asked it, not really expecting a positive answer. It was routine by now, and Reid had always been comfortable with routine.
Amanda tilted her head back, looking Reid directly in the eye through the wispy bangs of her dark hair. It used to be a wig that she would stare through, but Adam had been gone so long that her hair had grown out, tumbling around her shoulders. Sometimes Reid wondered what had happened to the wig. Did she keep it, as some sort of a keepsake, or was it thrown away and lining a landfill somewhere?
She blinked slowly, allowing dark eyelashes to flutter on pale cheeks.
“Adam is in a better place. You know that, Doctor Reid.”
“I know you keep saying it.” He acknowledged, leaning back in his chair.
“But you don’t believe me.” She smiled coldly and leaned forward, tapping his knee with a deep red fingernail. “That hurts. Right here.” She removed the hand from his knee, laying it against her chest.
Reid nodded, resigned to it all. “How long do you think Adam will be happy just staying quiet? He can’t hide forever.”
“Oh, Doctor.” She laughed, seeming honestly amused. It was the first time Reid had seen her show any real emotion other than anger, and he watched, fascinated. “He’ll stay inside forever, if that’s what it takes to keep you here.”
“What do you mean?” Reid frowned, sure he was on the brink of finally understanding them.
She stood, skirt floating around her and stepped forward, hips swaying gently. She stopped and knelt at his side, lips close to his ear and hand clasping his arm, feeling the outline of muscle and bone beneath his long shirt. “Don’t you remember, Doctor? You said you’d keep coming until you find Adam. And Adam wants you to keep coming. Forever.”
She rose elegantly, turning to step into the small beam of light produced by the one small window that sat high in the wall.
“Adam thinks you are special, Doctor. He thinks you understand him.” She twirled, arms raised high and skirts flying around her legs. “But make no mistake, Doctor Reid.” His name and title were said through gritted teeth, and Reid did his best to hide a flinch. “You don’t understand him. Not like me.
“I’ve always protected Adam, always. From his father, from his foster parents, from everyone. And he loves me. No one else. Especially not you.”
Reid’s eyes widened. “Adam is staying hidden because he thinks he’s in love with me?”
“He thinks you’ll leave him. And you will. They always do, except for me.” Her fists clenched by her sides and angry tears started to prick her eyes. “I’ll never leave him. I’m always there, I always loved him. Why is it you?”
“Amanda, I…” Reid rose, reaching out a hand to comfort her, but it was slapped away.
“Don’t touch me.” She snarled. “You don’t get to touch me. Leave.”
Reid nodded reluctantly, picking up his satchel. “Amanda?”
She turned her head in his direction, but refused to reply.
“I’m sorry.”
Her eyes lowered, her shoulders hunched inward. “I’m sorry too.” She took a step forward and brushed her lips against his cheek, stepping back slowly.
“Because I know he’ll never dare.” She explained, and Reid smiled softly at her.
“I know Adam loves you too, Amanda. How could he not?”
He left her standing there, staring ahead blankly at the grey wall. He didn’t hear her whisper softly after him; “But never like he loves you.”