Unknown- A Criminal Minds Fanfic

Chapter 23- Careful

I was slouched in a chair next to Reid's hospital bed, my feet thrown up on the corner as I browsed through a book I had pulled from my bag.  I was trying to ignore the headache lack of sleep, drugs from surgery, and flickering fluorescent lights had given me. 

And how guilty I was feeling over having gotten Reid hurt.  Hotch had been almost entirely correct over how much danger I had put everyone else on the team in, but that doesn't mean I had to like it.  I didn't even like admitting it to myself, much less to him.  I'm just stubborn like that, I guess.

I heard the soft rustle of sheets and glanced up to see Reid stirring in the bed, and I dropped my combat boots to the ground with a thud as I sat up, setting my book on the floor by my bag.  He shifted against the pillows but then blinked open his eyes, sitting upright with a start.

"What--" he started, glancing around bewildered.

"Hey. Sorry, I didn't mean to get you stabbed with wooden shrapnel," I gave a half-sarcastic half-sincere apology as explanation.

Apparently he wasn't listening to me or possibly wasn't remembering what had happened, though, because he raised his hands to rub his eyes and then winced and sucked in a sharp breath, glaring at his arm.

"Careful," I told him.

We'd both had to get put under so they could surgically remove all the splinters, but Reid had just had the one big one in his shoulder and had to wear a sling until the muscles healed.  I, however, had had a bunch of smaller ones all over my back, and now my whole back was covered in gauze and bandages that made every movement extremely stiff.  At least I wouldn't have to worry about trying to do things in the field like that, instead I had to sit in a hard uncomfortable office chair for eight hours.

"What happened?" he asked me, taking my advice and carefully sitting up against the pillows, but not without a fair amount of pained grimaces. 

The painkillers must be wearing off, I could feel twinges of pain sparking up all over my back again, too.

"You remember the three kids that went missing?" I asked him.

He nodded and then asked, "Did we find out what happened to the second boy?  Jeremy?"

"Yeah, they found him out back.  He was alive, but he died shortly after arriving at the hospital.  Blood loss."

Reid nodded and then asked me, "Are you okay?"

"Fine," I replied, even though technically I wasn't even supposed to have left my own hospital room.  But at least I was still in the hospital, minus the fact that I had ditched the ID bracelet and hospital gown.  Hotch would probably have something to say about that, too, but I was banking on the fact that he wouldn't find out. 

The rest of the team was, I assumed, closing up the case or packing up their stuff at the hotel, waiting for Reid and I to get discharged so we could head back to D.C.

We sat in awkward silence for a while before I asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Um, okay, I guess," he answered tiredly.

Right then a nurse knocked on the door and peeked her head in, and upon seeing me she called for another nurse and a doctor. 

Upon hearing the underlying anger in her voice, Reid asked me suspiciously, "What did you do?"

I shrugged and immediately regretted it, but I kept my face impassive despite the aching pain creeping across my back, answering casually, "I left my hospital room without telling anyone."

The look on his face was weirdly similar to a look Hotch had given me on more than one occasion.

I cautiously pushed open the door to my apartment, peering carefully at the dark interior.  I dropped my go bag and the one I had stuffed the letters in on the floor, quietly setting the mail and my keys on the counter before placing my hand on my gun as I stepped further into the apartment.  I checked all the rooms, prodding the blanket I had left crumpled up on the couch for a hidden body, knocking over half the stuff in my storage closet unearthing shadows, and full out pouncing on any suspicious lumps under my comforter.  There was no creepy stalker to be found, so I cursed myself for being paranoid--and hurting my sore back even more in the process--and then proceeded to go check on Mrs. Mulcahy's cats.

Right after we had arrived in the small town in Virginia, I had called the landlord to get me the number of the crabby middle-aged man who lived down the hall from us and offered to pay his teenage son forty bucks to take care of Mrs. Mulcahy's cats for a few days.  Mrs. Mulcahy left one of the windows in her apartment open for the cats of course, so all he'd had to do was climb out on the fire escape and then break and enter to feed them.  He seemed thrilled I had told him to commit a crime, but relatively skeptical, too.  At least that proved he had a little bit of brains along with pure testosterone, though he might have been less eager if he knew I worked for the FBI...oh well, now I could handle it for the rest of the week.  Desk duty meant I'd actually keep decent hours and be home at a relatively consistent time every night.

Five purring felines crowded around my feet the minute I'd opened the door to Mrs. Mulcahy's apartment, and after I had pet each one of them and almost stepped on their paws enough times, they got out of my way so I could actually get inside the apartment.  I filled their food and water bowl and cleaned out the litter box and then went to check the window the kid had 'broken in'.  He'd just taken the screen out to get in, but he'd put it back on wrong.  I fixed it and on my way out the door, I stole two cookies from the tin on the table.  They were a little stale, I think Middle-Aged Man's Teenage Son had taken a few and neglected to close the tin tightly afterwards.

When I got back to my own apartment, I refused to look at the pile of mail that had accumulated over the three days I hadn't been here and did two hours' worth of basic housecleaning before I got up the nerve to go through my mail for more letters.

Apparently the letter I'd gotten this morning--yesterday morning because it was past one in the morning now--hadn't been enough.  There was another one.

You have such nice neighbors.  Pity you couldn't introduce me to them.  I'm sure they would like me as much as you do.

My stomach dropped to my feet.  I threw the letter on the counter, snatching up my cellphone and rifling through my bag for Mrs. Mulcahy's note.  I pulled out the wrinkled pink stationery and smoothed it out, flipping it over.  Sunset Adventure Cruises S.S. Daylight 543-2891 was written in her curlicue script.  I started dialing and got as far as the 2  before I paused.

Would he actually go after Mrs. Mulcahy?  The note I had opened before spending the night at Reid's had warned me to not tell anyone.  If I wasn't supposed to tell anyone, he wouldn't drag my crazy cat lady neighbor into this while she was gone on a cruise.  It went against his M.O.  I stared at the numbers on my phone screen, my thumb hovering over the keypad, but then I deleted all four of the digits I had dialed. 

I was about to turn it off, mortified at myself for being so stupid again, when my phone started ringing.  Caller ID said the number was Unknown.  I hit the answer call button, bringing the phone to my ear.

"Hello?"

"You look positively exhausted, Charlotte.  You should get some rest," an unfamiliar male voice said from the other end.  Before I could get a word out, a click sounded and the dial tone sounded in my ear.

I lightly tapped the end call button, but then my hand started shaking uncontrollably and the phone slipped from my fingers and hit the floor, bouncing once on the raised step of my kitchen before thudding to a stop on the carpet below.  I sank to the floor, collapsing against the door of a cabinet.  I wrapped my arms around my knees, forcing myself to breathe as I stared down the hall and through the open door of my bedroom, out the dark window.