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emberfrostlovesloki · 4 years

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To Be Held Chapter 2 - Running Out

Here is chapter two!

Chapter warnings: Description of kidnapping. Mention of torture. Homophobic ideology. Description of sexual assault.

Spencer was on his side sleeping when his phone rang with a piercing shrill. He rolled onto his back, and he extended his long arm out to reach the phone on the bedside table. He didn’t even look at the name when he answered, “Reid here.” When he heard the voice of Garcia he sat up, suddenly awake. “Hey genius. Sorry for disturbing your beauty sleep, but I got your girl. “Give me a second.” Spencer said while turning on the lamp above his bed. The light hurt his eyes. He grabbed his notepad and a pen and sat down cross legged on the mattress. “I’m ready.” “Well, Venus Rising’s other name is Levi Hill. She’s an English lecturer at...” Before Penelope could get the rest of her sentence out Spencer filled in the last few words with, “Washington State University.” The computer whiz laughed and responded with, “Bingo. She teaches Queer theory, a class on Milton, and early British literature.” Spencer jotted down the information, and asked, “How long has she been teaching in Washington?” “Three years. It looks like she moved here from Ohio after getting her masters degree at Notre Dame. She’s twenty three, and before you ask, she doesn’t have a big social media presence, so I can’t find that much more about her.” Spencer replied to this tide of information with, “You did a great job Garcia. With this information we have a connection between Mr. Pyne at the university and Ms. Grost at Fantasy Girls.” Spencer was always impressed by Penelope, and sometimes he was scared of her too. “Anything for a fellow friend with a superior intellect.” Garcia said, then continued by saying, “I’ve sent Ms. Hill’s profile from Washington State over to you, along with her LinkedIn, and just for a bonus, her dissertation. One last thing you might want to know, pretty boy, she’s got office hours at 1:00 tomorrow, office number 212.” Spencer checked his email and found the attachments. “Thanks again.” Spencer said. Garcia replied happily, “No problem, now it’s my time for my beauty sleep.” The line dropped, and Spencer ran his hand through his hair. The clock read 5:00 A.M. ‘At least I have a few hours to read over this material’ Spencer mused. He grabbed his glasses off the table. Got up and started making some of the lousy instant coffee. It was going to be a long day.

The team entered the East precinct of the Seattle Police Department at 8:00 A.M. No one had really slept, which was usual in an active case. J.J. kindly handed Hotch, Gideon and Spencer a cup of coffee before pouring her own. As the coffee crew assembled around the milk and sugar. Gideon was adding a packet of sugar and stated, “This unsub feels very unstable to me, yet he’s methodical and calculated. It doesn’t make sense.” Hotch looked up from stirring the milk into his coffee and replied, “The unsub must be mission-oriented. We’re looking for someone that has a problem with religion or politics. He probably holds extreme beliefs.” The four members of the BAU moved into the room they had set up in and jumped into their assignments. Hotchner started by saying “I’m meeting Mr. and Mrs. Pyne at 10:00 A.M. today. Elle, will you come with me?” Elle nodded and said, “Of course.” Gideon then said, “I’m going down to the coroner's office to look at the death certificates of the victims, then I’ll go over to the forensic labs that ran the test on the orange fibers found at the scene. Spencer will join me. I might need your expertise at the lab.” “Actually I’m meeting a potential target that the unsub might have had contact with. Her name is Levi Hill. She’s a professor at Washington State, and an employee of Fantasy Girls.” The team looked at him, surprised that he had found a connection between the two victims. Spencer continued, “I was hoping J.J. would go with me. I’ll go to the coroner’s office with you, but Ms. Hill’s office hours are at 1:00 P.M. and I plan on being on time.” Gideon chuckled that Spencer hadn’t just said he couldn’t go with him to the lab. But Jason also knew that Spencer didn’t like conflict and avoided it when possible. He smiled at the genius while saying, “Sounds like a plan.” J.J. finished the conversation by saying, “I’ve set up a press conference at 5:00 P.M. today. The media is getting restless and it would be best if we give them, and the police a profile by then.” The team grouped up and into their assignments and headed out to the cars.

Mr. and Mrs. Pyne lived in a modest house on the edge of town. Hotchner and Elle were seated on a couch which faced another couch facing them, where the Pyne’s sat. Pictures were spread across the coffee table that showed Jefferson Pyne; the photos ranged from the smiling blond haired boy as a child to an adult version of the child standing outside of a dorm on the Washington State campus. “So, Mrs. Pyne, you said that Jefferson was doing well in school? Did you notice any changes in him in his sophomore year? Were there people who disliked your son?” Mrs. Pyne swallowed and wiped at a tear that fell down her face. Before she responded Mr. Pyne squeezed her hand reassuringly. She started by saying, “Jefferson excelled in school. He loved living in the dorms and meeting new people. During his freshman year he came out as gay.” Before Mrs. Pyne could continue, Hotchner interjected, “And how did you react to your son’s coming out?” Mr. Pyne smiled a little and said, “We try to be very open in this household. We told our son when he was younger that he could love anyone he wanted when he grew up.” After Mr. Pyne finished answering the question his wife continued by saying, “I was so proud of him the day he told me that he was gay, so, so proud.” Mrs. Pyne then bent over with a sob. She tried to hold back her tears, but they flowed down her cheeks. Mr. Pyne held her close to him and continued answering the questions with, “In Jefferson’s sophomore year he moved back home and commuted to school everyday. He wanted to live in an apartment, but we were having some financial troubles and it would be much cheaper. Mr. Pyne stood, allowing his wife to sit and gather her emotions. He gestured for Elle and Hotch to follow him. The trio walked up the stairs to the second story of the house. Mr. Pyne opened the second door on the left and said, “This room was Jefferson’s. We haven’t moved much in here except for some of the photos you saw downstairs. We’ll be downstairs, take all the time you need.” Mr. Pyne stepped out of the room and walked down the stairs, and went back in the direction of Mrs. Pyne.

The bedroom had a bed, desk and lamp. A pride flag adorned the wall next to a BYX banner. Hotch looked around the room and noticed the banner. “What fraternity is BYX? I haven’t heard of it before?” He looked to Elle. She was examining the book shelf that held a lot of college textbooks. She replied, “BYX stands for Brothers Under Christ. It’s a Christian fraternity that is known for their service to the community.” Elle didn’t know how much she believed in Christian fraternities or sororities, but she had a feeling about Jefferson. She told Hotch, “I don’t see anything suspicious about this kid. I suppose that he could be getting some backlash for coming out, but other than that, I don’t think he had enemies.” Hotch replied, “I agree. The parents don’t seem like likely suspects. Let’s go down and look at Jefferson’s laptop. If he was getting hate for being gay we might see it online.” The pair of agents stepped out of the room. Elle gingerly closed the door to Jefferson’s room and followed Aaron down the stairs into the living room.

The coroner’s office was very cold inside. Spencer folded his arms over his chest. Conserving the heat between his arms, shirt and maroon vest, and his body. After a minute an older man walked toward them. The man extended a hand toward Jason and said, “I’m doctor Stanley. I examined the bodies and wrote the cause of death” Gideon retracted his hand and said, “My name is Agent Gideon, and this is Dr. Reid.” Dr. Stanley took the time to look at Reid with unbelief. Stanley even rolled his eyes until Jason asked, “Do you have the files on Mr. Pyne and Ms. Grost ready for us?” The older doctor said, “Follow me.” He turned on his heel and walked quickly down a white tiled hallway. Spencer and Gideon followed behind him. Stanley unlocked a room that held a metal table and chairs. On the table lay two files. Stanley said, “Here are the files, if you have any questions you can page me.” With that being said the coroner walked away. Reid couldn’t help but sarcastically say, “What a professional man.” Gideon replied, “Agreed.” In the same tone as Spencer. The two men sat down, each grabbing a file off the table. After fifteen minutes of silently reading Spencer found something odd in the report on Ms. Grost. “Gideon, it says in the report that we got at headquarters that she had been raped. In Dr. Stanley’s report he only states that “‘the body was bruised in the primary sexual organs. If she was raped, why wouldn’t he have written that?” Gideon looked at the page that Spencer had handed him and replied, “Let’s find out,” while punching the button to Dr. Stanley’s pager.

Stanley walked reluctantly into the room with Spencer and Gideon. “Did you have a question?” the older man asked with condescension, looking at Spencer as he asked. Spencer looked back at the doctor unfazed and said, “I was wondering why in one report rape was explicitly stated, but in your analysis of the body you don’t?” Stanley cleared his throat and responded by saying, “The body hadn’t been penetrated by male genitalia. It was clear that an object was used. Under certain definitions that would not be considered rape.” Spencer looked a little sick at this information, and Gideon was angry. Jason stood, holding the page in his hand pushing it in front of the coroner. “You didn’t think it was important to tell us that the victim had been raped with an object instead of a dick.” Gideon breathed out harshly and turned to Spencer saying, “We have the information we need. Let’s go.” Jason’s tone calmed when he looked at Reid. Reid made him feel like a father again, and he couldn't let himself be mad around the younger agent. Spencer stood and neatly placed the folders on top of eachother on the table. As He and Gideon walked toward the door. Before Reid left the room he turned to Dr. Stanley and stated cooly, “I’ll be talking to your superior when this is over, about your apparent lack of empathy and understanding of medical terms dealing with trauma.” With that Spencer turned on his heel and left the cold room behind. As he and Gideon walked to the car Reid took a moment to close his eyes and feel the sun on his skin. The long night was getting to him.

In an unknown location a cabin surrounded by trees came to life with a shrill cry. Inside a man was tied to a wooden table. His legs and arms were bound in the shape of the cross. A figure dangled a cross above the body of the man who was tied down. “God told me that I should give you the chance to repent. You claim to be a man of God, preaching his word to those people who will burn in hell. It’s heretical!” The tormented man breathed laboredly, and coughed up some blood. The man stammered out shakely, “God states that he loves all people. Therefore I practice giving love to all people .” The man standing over the preacher laughed grimily and responded to his captive comment by saying, “God said that there would be false teachers in the end times, what a blessing I’ve found one. Now repent, or I’ll send you to the pit.” The preacher couldn’t say anymore, he was in so much pain that his mind couldn’t put words together anymore. Before the pastor passed out from the exhaustion of his position, he thought, ‘Lord save me. Lord.”

Gideon dropped Spencer off outside the main campus of Washington State University. Just as Spencer got to the student union he spotted J.J. standing outside the campus bookstore. When J.J. noticed him, she walked to him, and he asked, “How was it today in the station?” J.J. sighed at the memory and said, “The press had so many questions that are going to be answered in four hours if they were just patient. Instead I was forced to copy and paste the same response to fifteen different outlets.” Spencer had spotted the coffee shop above the bookstore and checked his watch, which read 12:25 P.M. “That does sound very boring. How would you feel about grabbing a coffee before going to office hours?” J.J. smiled at the idea and agreed. The two of them climbed the stairs. The date to the football game had made it clear that she and Spencer weren’t meant for eachother. But that didn’t invalidate their friendship. With coffees in hand the duo from the BAU found the English building and waited outside office 212. Spencer was leaning against the doorframe reading a basic philosophy book when he heard footsteps coming their way. He closed the book and stashed in his shoulder bag. The young women who walked toward her office didn’t look like what J.J. or Spencer had expected. “May I help you?” Professor Hill asked as she attempted to grab the keys to her office while holding a large box of blue exam books. Spencer pulled out his badge and said, “I’m Dr. Reid and this is agent Jareau. We’re from the Behavior Analysis Unit from the FBI. We have a few questions for you profesor Hill.” Ms. Hill looked surprised for a second, but she quickly replied with, “It’s nice to meet you Dr. Reid, and you agent Jareau. If you give me a second, we can go into my office. I’m happy to answer any questions you have.” Spencer quickly put his badge away and offered to hold the blue books. With the package out of her hands, Ms. Hill was able to grab her keys from her backpack and quickly unlocked the door to her office. She flipped on an office light and plugged in two lamps on each side of the desk, lastly she pulled a chair from one wall and placed it next to another chair at the desk. After she had finished all this she said, “Come in.” J.J. went in and took a seat, Spencer followed. He shut the door to the office with his foot, still holding the box of empty exam books. “I can take those now, thank you.” She took the box out of Spencer’s hands and placed it on an empty shelf of an overflowing bookcase. She sighed at the sight of the exams and then sat in the chair across from the agents, just as Spencer took his seat.

With notepad and pen at the ready Spencer began the interview with, “How long have you been living in Seattle Professor Hill?” Ms. Hill replied, “I’ve been living here for three years now. I was offered an adjunct position at the university during my final semester at Notre Dame.” Next, J.J. asked, “When did you start working at Fantasy Girls?” At this question Hill’s eyes briefly glanced over to her Master’s degree hanging on the wall before she looked at J.J. and said, “My second semester of teaching at this university made me realize that I wasn’t going to pay off my student loans as a professor. Even with financial aid and scholarships my debt after school was more than I could pay off in twenty years with my current position. In December I got an advancement in the University and I signed up to work at Fantasy Girls.” Spencer nodded his head at hearing about needing to pay off debt. Although he was fortunate that his parents had paid for his education, he knew people that were consumed with debt for the rest of their lives, it destroyed them. Spencer continued the conversation by inquiring, “Were you friends with Sydney Grost, or was she just a colleague?” Hill smiled at the question and said, “I remember my first night hosting; I had a client that was very insistent that I go back to his apartment with him. Well Sydney walked over to him and said, “‘If you keep harassing her, I’ll go over to your apartment and break every window I see with a brick.’” Sydney was very protective of all the girls. She and I worked a lot of jobs together and we’d always get coffee at the end of the night. Sit and talk about what we were doing tomorrow. She was great.” As Hill finished the answer she took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. It was clearly an attempt to stop herself from crying. Spencer looked away from the professor for a second too, not wanting to make her feel awkward. J.J. then asked kindly, “I know this is a sensitive question, but have you, Sydney, or any other women you work with gone back to a client’s apartment or house?” Ms. Hill ran her hand through her short hair. She took another breath and looked at J.J, and said, “The people I work with, they're like a family. We see each other at least three times a week. We see each other nude, or almost nude, and we complain about our lives. Whether or not some of the escorts have worked in that way I can’t say with certainty. We have to have some boundaries and that’s one of them.” She looked to J.J. to see if that was enough, “I’m sorry I have to ask this, but have you solicited sex after work?” J.J. did feel horrible having to ask a question like that. The blond agent knew that the work paid and therefore had to ask. Hill shook her head before answering, “No. I’ve never wanted to risk my position, not even for that much money.” J.J. nodded and jotted down the answer. Spencer placed his head on the side of his hand and tried to think of something he was forgetting. He thought for a moment, and then he it hit him, “‘social media.’” After realizing there was something strange about the professor’s media he quickly asked, “You don’t really have any social media. Is there someone you’re trying to avoid, or get away from?” Ms. Hill replied, “Being an escort isn’t really seen as a moral profession. If anyone found out what I do I’d lose my job, my friends in church and the opportunities I might have once I can move forward from here. The only person I’m trying to actively avoid is my father, but he lives in Florida, so I doubt he’s trying to find out where I am.” J.J. then said, “I think you’ve given us a lot of good information Professor Hill. I know you have class in twenty minutes. We’ll get out of your hair and let you get ready for that. Thank you so much for your time.” Ms. Hill smiled and wrote something down on a sticky note. As she handed the note to J.J. she said, “Here’s my cell number, email, and schedule for my other job. I hope you find the person who’s doing this, and stay safe.” When she finished saying this she stood and extended her hand to J.J. and Spencer. The FBI agents stood and Spencer opened the door for J.J. As the blond agent stepped out Spence pulled out his card and handed it to Hill and said, “If you see anything weird, or you feel unsafe, feel free to call me.” Ms. Hill smiled and said, “Thank you Dr. Reid.”

Gideon had picked up the results from the orange fibers. They had from a basic rope and could be bought at any hardware store in town. Although that lead had been disappointing Jason hoped that once Reid had a loot at the retort he would have more input on the evidence. As he was leaving the lab he got a call from Chief Best. “Gideon here.” The leader of the BAU listened for a moment before quickly picking up the forensic evidence and ran out of the lab. As he slid the seat of his car Jason replied to the police chief by saying, “I’ll let the team know, and I’m headed to the house right now.

The latest crime scene had new features that the others had not. Firstly, it was fresher than the other scenes. Secondly the victim had enemies in the community. James Reeve was a pastor and had been scrutinized by some of the other churches for teaching a doctrine of tolerance for some communities often marginalized by denominations of the Christian faith. As Morgan walked around the room he commented, “Reeve’s church is close to the Washington State Campus. It’s the central point to all of these cases.” Reid was confused by the new victim and said, “Why would the unsub take a college pastor? It doesn’t fit the profile. It’s likely the unsub is around the same age as Mr. Reeve. There seem to be a thousand directions this case could go.” Hotchern replied, “If the unsub is changing his targets every time he finds a new victim he could be trying to throw us off the trail. Or maybe he’s becoming more unstable. Afterall, this is the first time that he’s shown a sign of forced entry.” Gideon looked up from the door that had been forced open and said, “I’m certain that all of these victims are related in some way. The unsub is just getting bolder, braver with his abductions. I think that he’s making his final preparations for an important kill. We have to go back to the station and give a profile. Once the officers have it we need everyone looking for a person that meets the profile. We’re running out of time.”

#criminal minds #j.j #elle greenaway #aaron hotchner #jason gideon #spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #fanfiction

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ahagia-sophia · 4 years

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Thesis Statement: Manhood is poorly defined and actively attacked in Western society and this has caused me problems. Selfish I know, but this is my blog. So.

I have a lot of problems with the US. There are the political ones. The not so political ones. And the personal ones. When I first hit adulthood and realized that adults don’t exist I held out the secret hope that somewhere adults existed. When I saw that our political system was not run by these mythical adults I became very angry. And when I went overseas I, like some sort of idiot, thought that I had at last found the place that the adults were hiding. I found a place where people had their roles. Knew how to act. Knew how to behave. But I was a tourist. I saw people doing their jobs and just sort of assumed that everyone was like that. While I was having the epiphany that human beings are, in fact, exactly the same no matter where or when you go, this part of the revelation passed me by. And it took me three years of self reflection to figure that out. But back to the topic. Problems. This might be because of my rather, uh, unique upbringing. But I never really figured out how to be a man. Like I know some stuff. Stand up for people, don’t hit girls, have sex. That’s the basics. But I also saw a lot of other men who grew up and ‘knew’ how to be men. I was raised almost exclusively by women. My father figure was either dead or isolated from the rest of us. So it was me, my mother, my sisters, my grandmother, and my cousins. And after I was transplanted to the south it was just my mother and my sisters. My mom knew how to raise girls. And she married my step father, and stayed with him, almost exclusively for my benefit. Assuming that a man was needed to raise a boy. And because that man was around she was uh. Absent. From my raising. I’m still a little mad that my sisters got ancestral rings on their 18th birthdays and I just got a pat on the back (I’ve got a lot of angst when it comes to rings). But that’s not what I’m here to complain about. Because I was sort of left to raise myself, I turned to any manly source I could find. Those were the military and paramilitary groups. I was small and pale (still am, really) and kind of migrated to bottom bitch status. So I learned that being a man, for me, was being quiet, being studious, and being as unobtrusive as I can. Funnily enough my JROTC program was run almost exclusively by women. The only men really present were 1SG and Colonel. Colonel was a tired old Creole man who had lived a very long life. 1SG was a raging misogynist surrounded by nothing but strong women and scrawny boys. The other organization I found myself is was the 5th Louisiana Reenacting Company. A group of Totally Not Racist See We Have A Black Guy (One Of The Good Ones, A Credit To His Race) Civil War Reenactors It’s kind of surprising that I’m not some frothing trumper, really. From them I learned Machismo and Duty. A man has his Duty and he does his Duty in a manly fashion. I also probably hated women. I was definitely chock full of hormones and mad that they had it so easy sexually (yeah I know better now). I was certainly jealous of my sisters for being mothered. And I definitely hated women who attacked the fundamentals of Manhood. Because it was all I really had, beyond my own special interests.

Going into college all I really knew about my role in society was that I was to Fulfill My Duty and Have Sex. I was bitter about that. I was a virgin. And because I had sort of been raised in a military mindset I had it in my mind that my Duty was to Suffer and Die. (On a related note I fucking despise American Protestantism.) Because of that I was very upset when all my new female friends kept saying that men were pigs who have it easy. I know why they said that now, and to an extent I agree. But at the time I couldn’t understand how they could be so blind. In my mind they had it easy. I had to register for the fucking draft and get ready for a career of suffering and they got to do whatever they wanted while being cared for by those of us who were busy Suffering. Again, don’t yell at me, I’m just trying to explain some shit here.

So college wasn’t really helpful for determining manhood. I was on my own for the first time and all I was learning was all the things ‘men’ were. Men were creeps who raped their children. Men were creeps who followed girls around on dark nights. Men were assholes who tried to control every aspect of a woman’s life. Men were abusive. Men were stupid. Men were, by and large, Bad. It’s funny that you can say that in front of someone and then immediately turn around and say ‘Oh no, you’re one of the good ones.’ And not see the obvious connections. But I’m not here to discuss prejudice. I’m here, really, to discuss the nebulous nature of manhood in American society.

I still didn’t really know what a man was. Which meant (in my mind at the time) I didn’t know what the fuck I was supposed to be doing with my life. I have since learned that no one knows. But then (and now) I was keenly interested on what a man was supposed to be. I took a course on sexual violence and relationships and we got to a thing called the ‘Be A Man Box’ where we outlined the traits of manhood. I was very interested in this box. Perhaps I would get some goddamn answers. Did I mention the class was entirely composed of women? That’s important. They took this as a time to outline everything about men that they hated and provide a few of the staples like ‘provider’ for diversity or something. The box was not helpful. All I really knew was what a man shouldn’t be. Which is good, yes. But it wasn’t giving me the answers I so desperately sought. There were other men on campus, obviously. But beyond my one conservative friend all of my male friends were some flavor of gay. And seemed more interested in figuring out their sexuality and enjoying their newfound freedom than figuring out what the hell masculinity is.

Enter that ‘Muslim’ in my bio. We’ve entered my third year of college. I’m devastated by a breakup, I’m binge drinking, I’m flirting with suicide, I’m completely rudderless. And my friend’s girlfriend was trying to fuck me. A recurring theme in my life, that. A lot of bad shit was going on concurrently. My only real male role models were my professors. One of whom was Muslim, the other tired and Mormon, and the third was/is slowly dying while his wife fucked anything that moved. I was asking myself a lot of questions. Questions like, ‘Is it okay to fuck my friends girlfriend?’ ‘Did my ex break up with me because I couldn’t meet her expectations?’ ‘How have I even gotten this far?’ ‘What will I do next?’ ‘What am I supposed to be doing?’ My parents were also on the edge of a divorce and I was balancing an overfull course load, work, and being drunk/finding booze.

It was a sort of catalyst. I remembering drunkenly kneeling in my bedroom. Naked. Begging anyone who was listening for answers. And that answer was Islam. Islam had the ultimate set of honored male figures. The local Masjid was populated by academics and civil rights activists. Old black men who had clawed their way up from literal slavery to being pillars of their community. There’s no wisdom like that given by an old black man. I doubt I will ever be dissuaded from that belief. Islam had exact answers to all my questions. God. Community. Aid. Prayer. It had role models. It had answers. You’ve probably noticed that I’m still putting everything in past tense. I still consider myself a Muslim, but I’m definitely not a good one. The last time a knelt in prayer was Ramadan. But at the time religion did what I needed it to. I got sober. I got focused. I got my shit together.

It took me 21 years to find anything even resembling a guide to manhood. And it came from what many would describe as Un-American. Absolutely nothing that was presented to me before gave me a satisfactory answer. No American institution. No ‘American’ religion. No facet of American culture gave me an answer. Clearly other men have gotten answers. And, really, they got them from the same place I got mine. Old timers. People who remember, or have learned, how to be Men. And a lot of those old timers are racist old fucks who are actively poisoning young men who are desperate for answers to questions they don’t even know they’re asking. Maybe somewhere. In a country with an old faith and an old population. A place where you are confronted with civilization thousands of years old every day. Maybe there they know how to be men. Maybe that’s the place where the answers lie. Because I know for certain where they don’t lie. Sadly there aren’t any answers here. For any man or any stripe who’s trying to figure it out, I don’t think I can help you. One day I will. That’s my goal in life. To figure out what real manhood is and spread the word far and wide. But. sadly, I don’t have the answers yet.

#my stuff #manhood #adulthood

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