Unknown- A Criminal Minds Fanfic

Chapter 40- How Long?

Suddenly I jerked awake, a knife clutched in my fist and my other hand reaching for the gun on my nightstand as I bolted upright on the bed.

"McDowell," Rossi said, his hands in his pockets as he calmly took a step forward.

Prentiss was there too, her hands up in surrender as she leaned over the bed and pried the gun from my hand.

My panic receded and I exhaled the breath I didn't know I'd been holding when I realized what was going on.  I lowered my defenses, literally and figuratively as I sank back onto the bed.  I didn't let go of the knife though, just held it loosely in my hand resting against the tangled blankets.  I glanced at the clock on the nightstand, the red 9:23 glared back at me. It was daytime, a yellow glow filtering through the curtains drawn over the window and filling my hotel room.

"Hotch got a call from Strauss.  She wants to talk to you," Rossi said evenly.  

I had heard about Strauss, none of it good, so this definitely wasn't good.  Instead of arguing or questioning like I usually did, though, I just nodded.  The minute they left, I took some more medicine before the pain could surface too much and then got ready before heading to a small conference room in the hotel. 

And stopped short when I entered the room, the knot in my stomach turning into a dead weight and sinking to my feet when I saw the lady sitting at the head end of the small table in the room.  I silently closed the door behind me but didn't take a seat until she told me to, and then I left an empty chair between her and me.

"Charlotte," she simply said my first name by way of greeting.  That word rolling off her tongue echoed in my head as it changed to the threatening voice I'd heard over the phone so many times, and I clenched my fists under the table but did my best to keep my expression impassive.  Judging by the disdain on her face, I knew I'd failed, but she continued talking regardless.

"It's been a week and the FBI still does not have any leads on the whereabouts of Matthew Skinner, so we are putting you in Witness Protection until further notice," she stated.

"Witness Protection?" I questioned.  I'd be safe, but I wouldn't be me.  I'd get a new identity, I'd have to move, I would no longer be able to work for the FBI, and I'd probably never see the rest of the team again.

"Yes.  Until we get more information regarding Mr. Skinner's whereabouts, that is where you'd be safest," she said.

"Hiding might keep me safe but it won't help catch him.  How safe will I actually be if he's still out there?" I argued.

"This isn't up for consideration, Agent McDowell.  Witness Protection is your only option," she told me.

I stayed silent, trying to come up with an alternative, but I had seen cases like this dozens of times before.  And now mine was one of them, and she was right.  But there was one other option.

So I asked, "How long?"

"Excuse me?" she questioned, her tone leaking with superiority.

"How long will you keep me locked away from the rest of the world before you realize you'll need my help if you want any chance of catching him?" I repeated flatly. 

"You're willing to put your own life at risk to catch this man?" she asked in disbelief.

"Yes," I said, and the look of cunning on her face was one I'm sure had destroyed countless careers.  But what did I really have to lose other than my life?  That would be gone anyways if I went into Witness Protection.

She paused, calculating, but then her expression changed and she announced, "I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Agent McDowell.  If in two weeks the FBI can not find Matthew Skinner I may reconsider your proposal, but for now my original decision stays.  You will be transferred into Witness Protection this afternoon."

My stomach plummeted again, but I just nodded stiffly and got up to go, pausing only long enough to hear her call, "Good luck," after me.

On my way back to my room, Reid plowed right into me, dropping a file on the floor and sending various sized sheets of paper fluttering everywhere.  Instead of stomping over them and continuing on my way, I forced myself to grow up and stop being so petty and bent down to help him pick them up.

I glanced down at the first sheet I had picked up and froze, except for the hand that was holding it which started shaking uncontrollably.  It was a sheet of notebook paper with eight sentences scribbled on it in my handwriting, a transcript of one of the few phone calls he'd made where I actually talked to him.  The phone call the night I picked up Chocolate.

You know it's inevitable, Charlotte.

Not a chance.

Spending the night at your lover's, getting a dog?  You're playing dangerously.  I will not  hesitate to make you keep our secret.

Why don't you kill me already, you son of a bitch!

Sleep well, Charlotte. God knows you need it.

I stared at Reid crouched on the floor across from me, all the papers I had recorded those threats on gathered in his hands.

He stared back at me in silence as he stood up, half the papers still scattered on the ground.

"I'm just trying to catch him," he said in explanation before continuing, "When we found out you'd been taken, we went back to your apartment to see if we could find anything and these were spread out on your bed."

"I know," I answered, slipping the paper I was holding back into the file I'd picked up off the floor and handing it back to him.

"And you should probably know that Garcia hacked your cellphone records to find when all the calls were made.  And ran a background check on you.  And looked into your files," he said, pausing before adding, "I'm sorry."

"Well I guess if you hadn't resuscitated me, I wouldn't be here to get mad at you for it so I suppose I'll give you a free you-saved-my-life pass," I teased, cause we both knew the 'I'm sorry' didn't refer exclusively to him, Garcia, and the rest of the team digging into my life.

A small smile crossed his face as he slipped the rest of the papers into the folder and I continued on my way to my hotel room.  Despite the teasing apology, I still wasn't sure I had forgiven him entirely, and I didn't have a reason why, but I had minimum two weeks to think about it while I was in Witness Protection. 

Hopefully those two weeks wouldn't turn into the rest of my life.  Even I couldn't spend that much time thinking about apologies for the man who'd saved and damned my life.