Fic: Uncertain Logic (1/1 Criminal Minds)
Title: Uncertain Logic
Author: Frogg
Beta: None
Series: Of Innocence & Empathy
Rating: FRT-13
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Damnit.
Author's Note: This is unbetaed; my (current) beta has it in hand, but she's ignoring me at the moment and I wanted to post.:( Only mentioning because this is Elle's first appearance, and given the way she left, this may be getting some overhaul at some point. (Oh, and the reference is deliberate.)
Hotch slumped in his chair, the slip of paper in his hands worn soft with handling.
Should you need me...
There was no greeting, no signature. The envelope it'd arrived in had had no return address, though it was postmarked from Cleveland.
Even without identifying marks, Hotch knew who'd written the note. He knew who would pick up the phone, if he could bring himself to dial the number listed.
If he could accept the fact that the one person who could pull Morgan back from the edge had already gone over it.
'You can't save her,' his conscience whispered.
Hotch grit his teeth and dialed, unwilling - incapable - of sacrificing Morgan to his own misgivings.
"Hello?"
"Elle." Hotch forced the lingering suspicion out of his voice.
"Hotch." Elle sounded pleasantly surprised. "I'd wondered if you'd call."
Her concern struck a chord. "You've been keeping up with the team."
"As much as I can, now," she affirmed. 'Now that I don't have clearance,' remained unsaid.
Hotch shut his eyes against the pain. "You know about the Hankel case then."
"Some. What do you need from me?"
'Other than a signed confession,' Hotch filled in automatically, then savagely quashed the thought. "Reid was taken hostage, but managed to let us know where he was. Except by the time we got to him--"
"He'd already killed Hankel," Elle finished softly. "How is he?" She could follow their cases through the news, but anything beyond that was largely beyond her reach.
"Reid's recovering," Hotch replied in near-monotone. "Slowly, but he'll get there."
"And Morgan?"
Hotch couldn't find words to answer.
"That bad."
"Worse."
"You want me to talk to him."
"I think," Hotch started, choosing his words carefully, "he could benefit from a different perspective."
"I bet."
Hotch grunted noncommittally. "I know I don't have the right to ask--"
"Hotch," Elle interrupted gently, "if you didn't have the right, I wouldn't have sent you my number."
Shutting his eyes tightly, Hotch suppressed several uncharitable thoughts.
Apparently too many. "Hotch, do I need to come back to D.C.?"
"No, I'm sending him back to Marshall Parish." Hotch took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "He should be there late this afternoon, but I can't give you any guarantee--"
"I'll take my chances."
"Sorry about the short notice," Hotch added.
Elle laughed, bright and bitter. "When were we ever given notice?"
Hotch smiled despite himself. "True."
"So. Marshall Parish, Georgia. Anywhere in particular?"
"The plantation cemetery. Do you need directions?"
"You know, they have this really neat website called Google Maps. You should try it sometime."
The wicked humor made Hotch flinch; it was only one of many things he missed about working with Elle.
"Hotch?"
Apparently this was the point at which their conversation was reduced to stilted small talk and awkward silence.
"I know you're still there."
"Elle?"
"Yes?"
"For what it's worth..." Hotch braced himself, needing to get the words out before he lost his nerve. "I'm sorry." He couldn't help but mentally list the reasons why in the silence that followed: sorry he'd left her unprotected; sorry he hadn't put his foot down and not let her rejoin the team too soon; sorry he'd asked too much of her; sorry she'd crossed the line. Sorry she'd left.
Sorry he couldn't save her.
"So am I." The belated reply was numb with pain, rich with regret, barely more than a whisper.
The line went dead, his cell phone switching back to a dial tone.
Flipping it closed, Hotch stared sightlessly at his desk and prayed. Prayed to a god he no longer believed in; prayed that sending the fallen to catch the falling wasn't the most colossal mistake he'd ever made.
~~~the end~~~
Previous: Protecting Empathy
Next: A Dark World Dreaming
Author: Frogg
Beta: None
Series: Of Innocence & Empathy
Rating: FRT-13
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Damnit.
Author's Note: This is unbetaed; my (current) beta has it in hand, but she's ignoring me at the moment and I wanted to post.:( Only mentioning because this is Elle's first appearance, and given the way she left, this may be getting some overhaul at some point. (Oh, and the reference is deliberate.)
Hotch slumped in his chair, the slip of paper in his hands worn soft with handling.
Should you need me...
There was no greeting, no signature. The envelope it'd arrived in had had no return address, though it was postmarked from Cleveland.
Even without identifying marks, Hotch knew who'd written the note. He knew who would pick up the phone, if he could bring himself to dial the number listed.
If he could accept the fact that the one person who could pull Morgan back from the edge had already gone over it.
'You can't save her,' his conscience whispered.
Hotch grit his teeth and dialed, unwilling - incapable - of sacrificing Morgan to his own misgivings.
"Hello?"
"Elle." Hotch forced the lingering suspicion out of his voice.
"Hotch." Elle sounded pleasantly surprised. "I'd wondered if you'd call."
Her concern struck a chord. "You've been keeping up with the team."
"As much as I can, now," she affirmed. 'Now that I don't have clearance,' remained unsaid.
Hotch shut his eyes against the pain. "You know about the Hankel case then."
"Some. What do you need from me?"
'Other than a signed confession,' Hotch filled in automatically, then savagely quashed the thought. "Reid was taken hostage, but managed to let us know where he was. Except by the time we got to him--"
"He'd already killed Hankel," Elle finished softly. "How is he?" She could follow their cases through the news, but anything beyond that was largely beyond her reach.
"Reid's recovering," Hotch replied in near-monotone. "Slowly, but he'll get there."
"And Morgan?"
Hotch couldn't find words to answer.
"That bad."
"Worse."
"You want me to talk to him."
"I think," Hotch started, choosing his words carefully, "he could benefit from a different perspective."
"I bet."
Hotch grunted noncommittally. "I know I don't have the right to ask--"
"Hotch," Elle interrupted gently, "if you didn't have the right, I wouldn't have sent you my number."
Shutting his eyes tightly, Hotch suppressed several uncharitable thoughts.
Apparently too many. "Hotch, do I need to come back to D.C.?"
"No, I'm sending him back to Marshall Parish." Hotch took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "He should be there late this afternoon, but I can't give you any guarantee--"
"I'll take my chances."
"Sorry about the short notice," Hotch added.
Elle laughed, bright and bitter. "When were we ever given notice?"
Hotch smiled despite himself. "True."
"So. Marshall Parish, Georgia. Anywhere in particular?"
"The plantation cemetery. Do you need directions?"
"You know, they have this really neat website called Google Maps. You should try it sometime."
The wicked humor made Hotch flinch; it was only one of many things he missed about working with Elle.
"Hotch?"
Apparently this was the point at which their conversation was reduced to stilted small talk and awkward silence.
"I know you're still there."
"Elle?"
"Yes?"
"For what it's worth..." Hotch braced himself, needing to get the words out before he lost his nerve. "I'm sorry." He couldn't help but mentally list the reasons why in the silence that followed: sorry he'd left her unprotected; sorry he hadn't put his foot down and not let her rejoin the team too soon; sorry he'd asked too much of her; sorry she'd crossed the line. Sorry she'd left.
Sorry he couldn't save her.
"So am I." The belated reply was numb with pain, rich with regret, barely more than a whisper.
The line went dead, his cell phone switching back to a dial tone.
Flipping it closed, Hotch stared sightlessly at his desk and prayed. Prayed to a god he no longer believed in; prayed that sending the fallen to catch the falling wasn't the most colossal mistake he'd ever made.
~~~the end~~~
Previous: Protecting Empathy
Next: A Dark World Dreaming