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Love in the Time of Death (Mim and SithLordOfSnark)

Madam Mim

Madam Mim

One Big Modern Mess
Joined
May 30, 2013
The dawn was slow to come over yet another drizzly day in Seattle. George was already starting on her second cup of coffee and it was only 5:30. Mason had somehow gotten bedbugs and was sharing her tiny apartment with her while his house was bombed. George liked Mason, but he tended to hog the blankets. And the bed. And the couch when she was trying to take a nap. The only upshot to having to share a bed with him, really, was that he was a fantastic snuggler. Just...really great.

"Still can't sleep, Peanut?" Rube slid into the booth opposite George. She answered with a bleary-eyed look and hunched farther over her coffee, clutching it as though it were something precious.

"What about you? It's dawn and you don't have Mason in your bed." She took a sip of her coffee and resisted the temptation to allow her eyelids to meet. Her answer was an envelope slid into her line of sight.

"It's my last Reap." Rube had an uncharacteristic smile when George actually managed to raise her eyes to his face. Her eyes widened and she sat up straighter.

Neither of them paid any attention to the bell that had tinkled as seven sharply-dressed but tired-looking people entered Der Waffle Haus. They pushed two tables together near a window and ordered coffees from Kiffany. Almost immediately crime scene photos came out as simultaneously they opened their menus.

"Ooh! Banana Bonanaza!" Garcia lit up at the fruity waffle stack.

"Ugh, I don't think I can eat anything." Blake shook her head and closed the menu. Instead she chose to look over the crime scene cases.

"Don't tell me you still can't eat through work?" It was an easy thing for Rossi to say; he'd been at this for years. Blake, however, shook her head.

"It's just landing after flying. I'm always queasy the rest of that day." She pursed her lips as she looked over the photos. Grisly photos of partially-flayed bodies lying in alleys, displayed on sheets of plastic. Though the flayed parts were different, the victims had all been killed the same way: a single, circular entry wound at the base of the skull. Forensics had determined the weapon to be a modified bolt gun.

"It's been...a long life, Peanut." Rube looked tired, but happy as he reminisced. "I've made some good friends, particularly when I was out at the BAU." George had heard stories from his life in D.C.; Rube had been assigned to a special duty in the External Forces Division to pop souls of the victims of serial killers, and occasionally the killers themselves. But George was impatient. She grabbed the envelope and ripped it open. Inside was a single index card.

"Well that's nice. I guess they give you like, your two weeks notice. Kinda funny, huh?" She chuckled before looking back to the card. "Hmm...S. Reid. Pioneer Park, Mercer Island. E.T.D. 1:57 am. Kinda a shitty time. Wonder what the new co-worker's like?"
 
Spencer came in behind his team and glanced around the diner before taking a seat at the table. "What's this new case?" He asked, glancing at those gathered around the table before quickly skimming the menu and finding what he was going to order in a couple seconds. He closed the menu and ordered a coffee to start, seeing that not everyone was ready to order yet. He glanced towards Rube, but could naturally not see him, so he glanced right through him before he looked back at the BAU team gathered around the table.

((Sorry about the shortness. I'm basically just waking up, and my brain is on the fritz.))
 
"Looks like someone was asleep at the brief," Garcia teased.

"Hey, you called us in at two in the morning!" Rossi defended Reid. Back in D.C. it was now about 8, but here on the west coast it was only 5 and most of the team hadn't been able to sleep on the plane. Eyelids were getting heavy. "Flayed body parts, remember? Bolt gun?" he added to Reid.

George slid the index card back over to Rube. "So what d'ya think--?" But when she looked up he was gone. Looking around, confused, she saw the back of his head disappearing out the door with the tinkle of the chime.

JJ frowned and looked over Hotch's head. Hotch scowled back (not that anyone could tell the difference between this and his regular scowl), and opened his mouth to ask what the matter was. JJ, however, was up before he could ask and jogging toward the door. The door tinkled a second time as she hurried out, but she could be seen through the window jogging only a few steps before slowing to a stop. Looking upset and confused, she came back in and flopped down into her seat.

"What was that about?" Hotch asked, turning his scowl back to her. JJ kept her gaze on her menu, as though thinking very hard about something, before looking back up and around the table.

"Guys...I think I just saw Gideon."

*****************************************************************************************

"Rube? It's 5:30..."

"Yeah, sorry to wake you up. It's an emergency." Rube didn't wait for an invitation to push his way through the door, past the house's occupant, and into the dark living room. He clicked on a colorfully shaded lamp and sat on the sofa, elbows on his knees and face in his hands.

"What's wrong?" The woman who had opened the door closed and locked it again, frowning as she joined him in the living room, retying her robe as she sat in a chair across from him.

"I got my last reap." Rube looked up at her with that sort-of smile she knew all too well. It was a smile that was Rube trying to be happy. Really, really trying.

"Well that's good news isn't it?" She stood and crossed to the kitchen to put on a pot of tea. She didn't drink coffee; it made her feel weird.

"Well yeah, but..." He sighed and shook his head. She came back in, looking concerned.

"But what?"

Rube handed the woman his index card with the name. She clicked on another lamp and frowned at it. "S. Reid...Not...? Oh honey..." Her expression softened and she sat next to Rube, robe billowing out behind her as she went to his side and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He wasn't a hugger and she knew that, but he was. "What the Hell is wrong with them?"

"I dunno, Linda," Rube sighed, putting a hand on her forearm in an unprecedented physical contact. "But they're a bunch of bastards."

Linda sighed, not knowing what to say to comfort her friend. Rube had known the medium for years now; since he'd come to Seattle, really. She wasn't a reaper, nor had her name come up on a list, but on an assignment Rube had noticed her following a couple of Gravelings with her eyes. The only other mortal to do that, that he'd known of, was George's almost-boyfriend a few months prior who happened to be schizophrenic. He had approached the young woman gently, cautiously, in case she was in the same fragile state of mind. She was open with him about her sensitivities, however, and over the years Rube had watched her grow and develop her abilities as well as a business. Linda ran a bulk-sale herb and tea supply store, but for those she sensed would need her or would believe in her abilities, she offered readings in a back room of the shop.

Linda knew that Rube wasn't alive. She had known since she'd seen him. She had simply chosen to allow him to be open with her on his own terms, and it had been a great payoff to learn what he really was. For Rube it had been nice to have someone to talk to about his job. As the de-facto leader of their merry gang of Grim Reapers, he tried to always remain professional with them. Linda had become a good friend and confidante.

"I need you to do something for me, Lin," he said after taking his cup of tea with a word of thanks.

"Anything."

"Keep an eye on him for me, will ya? He's a very black-and-white, scientific, logical kinda guy. He'll have some major problems with all of this."

*****************************************************************************************

"Same as the others," Morgan observed grimly. "White female, early-to-mid twenties..." he rolled her over gingerly, "bolt gun to the base of the skull." He sighed as he straightened. Morgan and Reid had been sent to the scene of a fresh dump while JJ and Rossi talked to the families, Hotch and Blake worked with the local authorities, and Garcia did her tech thing.

"Hey Reid," he said sotto voce, putting his hands on his hips as he appeared to look around the crime scene, "two o'clock. That chick hasn't stopped staring the entire time we've been here."

Sure enough, there was a red-headed young woman standing as close to the police tape as she could get, staring intently at the two investigators. If they were to look more closely, it appeared her attention was focused entirely on Reid. She looked harmless enough; fringed brown hide jacket, long colorful skirt over brown hide boots, flowy white shirt which left her pale belly somewhat exposed. There was a keenness in her hazel eyes, however, a sort-of sharpness in her quiet observation which would have been disconcerting to anyone trying to keep what they were doing under wraps. It was almost as though she knew exactly what was going on, which made Morgan more than a little suspicious.

((It's okay. But just an FYI it's established in Dead Like Me canon that Reapers are not invisible.))
 
Madam Mim said:
"Looks like someone was asleep at the brief," Garcia teased.

"Hey, you called us in at two in the morning!" Rossi defended Reid. Back in D.C. it was now about 8, but here on the west coast it was only 5 and most of the team hadn't been able to sleep on the plane. Eyelids were getting heavy. "Flayed body parts, remember? Bolt gun?" he added to Reid.

George slid the index card back over to Rube. "So what d'ya think--?" But when she looked up he was gone. Looking around, confused, she saw the back of his head disappearing out the door with the tinkle of the chime.

JJ frowned and looked over Hotch's head. Hotch scowled back (not that anyone could tell the difference between this and his regular scowl), and opened his mouth to ask what the matter was. JJ, however, was up before he could ask and jogging toward the door. The door tinkled a second time as she hurried out, but she could be seen through the window jogging only a few steps before slowing to a stop. Looking upset and confused, she came back in and flopped down into her seat.

"What was that about?" Hotch asked, turning his scowl back to her. JJ kept her gaze on her menu, as though thinking very hard about something, before looking back up and around the table.

"Guys...I think I just saw Gideon."

*****************************************************************************************

"Rube? It's 5:30..."

"Yeah, sorry to wake you up. It's an emergency." Rube didn't wait for an invitation to push his way through the door, past the house's occupant, and into the dark living room. He clicked on a colorfully shaded lamp and sat on the sofa, elbows on his knees and face in his hands.

"What's wrong?" The woman who had opened the door closed and locked it again, frowning as she joined him in the living room, retying her robe as she sat in a chair across from him.

"I got my last reap." Rube looked up at her with that sort-of smile she knew all too well. It was a smile that was Rube trying to be happy. Really, really trying.

"Well that's good news isn't it?" She stood and crossed to the kitchen to put on a pot of tea. She didn't drink coffee; it made her feel weird.

"Well yeah, but..." He sighed and shook his head. She came back in, looking concerned.

"But what?"

Rube handed the woman his index card with the name. She clicked on another lamp and frowned at it. "S. Reid...Not...? Oh honey..." Her expression softened and she sat next to Rube, robe billowing out behind her as she went to his side and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He wasn't a hugger and she knew that, but he was. "What the Hell is wrong with them?"

"I dunno, Linda," Rube sighed, putting a hand on her forearm in an unprecedented physical contact. "But they're a bunch of bastards."

Linda sighed, not knowing what to say to comfort her friend. Rube had known the medium for years now; since he'd come to Seattle, really. She wasn't a reaper, nor had her name come up on a list, but on an assignment Rube had noticed her following a couple of Gravelings with her eyes. The only other mortal to do that, that he'd known of, was George's almost-boyfriend a few months prior who happened to be schizophrenic. He had approached the young woman gently, cautiously, in case she was in the same fragile state of mind. She was open with him about her sensitivities, however, and over the years Rube had watched her grow and develop her abilities as well as a business. Linda ran a bulk-sale herb and tea supply store, but for those she sensed would need her or would believe in her abilities, she offered readings in a back room of the shop.

Linda knew that Rube wasn't alive. She had known since she'd seen him. She had simply chosen to allow him to be open with her on his own terms, and it had been a great payoff to learn what he really was. For Rube it had been nice to have someone to talk to about his job. As the de-facto leader of their merry gang of Grim Reapers, he tried to always remain professional with them. Linda had become a good friend and confidante.

"I need you to do something for me, Lin," he said after taking his cup of tea with a word of thanks.

"Anything."

"Keep an eye on him for me, will ya? He's a very black-and-white, scientific, logical kinda guy. He'll have some major problems with all of this."

*****************************************************************************************

"Same as the others," Morgan observed grimly. "White female, early-to-mid twenties..." he rolled her over gingerly, "bolt gun to the base of the skull." He sighed as he straightened. Morgan and Reid had been sent to the scene of a fresh dump while JJ and Rossi talked to the families, Hotch and Blake worked with the local authorities, and Garcia did her tech thing.

"Hey Reid," he said sotto voce, putting his hands on his hips as he appeared to look around the crime scene, "two o'clock. That chick hasn't stopped staring the entire time we've been here."

Sure enough, there was a red-headed young woman standing as close to the police tape as she could get, staring intently at the two investigators. If they were to look more closely, it appeared her attention was focused entirely on Reid. She looked harmless enough; fringed brown hide jacket, long colorful skirt over brown hide boots, flowy white shirt which left her pale belly somewhat exposed. There was a keenness in her hazel eyes, however, a sort-of sharpness in her quiet observation which would have been disconcerting to anyone trying to keep what they were doing under wraps. It was almost as though she knew exactly what was going on, which made Morgan more than a little suspicious.

((It's okay. But just an FYI it's established in Dead Like Me canon that Reapers are not invisible.))
Click to expand...

((Crap. Its been so long since I've seen a DLM episode, I completely forgot.))

"Gideon.." Reid's eyes glanced in the direction that JJ had been looking only moments before, but by the time he looked, Rube had already left. He nodded at Rossi's voice. "Right. That." He said, nodding his head. "Sorry, haven't gotten much sleep since..." He couldn't bring himself to say her name, but he knew his team would know what he was talking about.

He glanced in Linda's direction then, at Morgan's words. "Who do you think she is?" He asked, glancing back at Morgan before he glanced back towards the redhead.
 
Morgan shrugged. "Dunno, but she's lookin' at you, Romeo." He smiled sideways at Reid, thudding him playfully on the back.

It had been two years since Tara, but he supposed between her and Maev the skinny young doctor was starting to figure he was cursed. The two were different in every way, but Morgan had always looked on Spencer Reid as a younger brother, and didn't want him giving up on women. Still, there was something about this woman that kept pulling Morgan's gaze back to her as they processed the scene. It wasn't her looks--she was pretty, but nothing remarkable--it was something in the way she carried herself. Her posture and attitude wasn't the same as normal crime scene rubber-neckers; she was here with a purpose. And with her eyes burning into the back of his neck, he had a feeling her purpose had to do with the two of them.

Sighing, Morgan straightened again. "Alright, I've had enough of this," he mumbled to Reid before turning on his heel and walking over to the tape. The woman stayed very still, as though she belonged there and he didn't rather than the other way around. She kept gazing over Morgan's shoulder, absorbed in what Reid was doing, until he was about six inches from her--enough to maintain boundaries but close enough to keep a conversation private.

"Excuse me," Morgan began, crossing his arms over his chest, "but what are you doing here, ma'am?"

She looked up at him. "Hmm? Oh, just watching like everyone else. And please don't call me ma'am; I'm not your mama. My name is Linda."

"Linda what?"

"Linda MacMillan." She didn't look perturbed as Morgan pulled a small notebook out of his back pocket and wrote down her name. "Oh, M-A-C not M-C," she said gently, looking at her name upside-down. "And one word; no spaces."

"Okay, Linda MacMillan. So what are you doing here? You're not observing like everybody else; you're observing us. That doesn't usually sit too well with crime scene processors." Morgan tucked away the note pad and folded his arms across his chest once more.

Linda looked up, intimidated. "Oh, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I didn't mean to stare. Is that Dr. Spencer Reid? I've watched some of his Georgetown lectures on YouTube; he's fascinating."

Why don't I have any normal fans? Spencer's lamentation of years ago came back to Morgan's mind. He had to admit, homeboy did have a point and this chick's fascination with him was raising more and more alarms.

"What's making me uncomfortable is that killers often revisit crime scenes, or observe police movements to test response times," Morgan answered sternly, not satisfying her question.

Linda, however, smiled. "Sir, there's FBI written on your shirt and your face. If I were a killer, why would I have given you my name and made sure you spelled it correctly?"

"I'd have to take you at your word it's your real name," he answered tersely, making a fair point.

Linda held up one finger before digging in her enormous fringed purse then extracting a wallet. She produced her driver's license, an almost-expired passport, and a Certified Psychics Society membership card, all with the name Linda MacMillan. Morgan took out his notebook again and jotted down beneath her name the information on her driver's license.
Linda MacMillan: 5'1", hair: red, eyes: hazel, race: white, DOB: 5/27/1982, age: 32, Address: 473 Evergreen Terrace, Seattle Occupation: "psychic."

Linda watched everything he wrote down and snickered when he put psychic in quotes. "Technically I qualify as a sensitive, and that's not my job. I only belong to that society because it's the most legitimate group of mediums, sensitives, and healers in the United States, and I offer readings to those I think would benefit from it. It helps to have some sort of certification, to put their minds at ease."

"So what? You're here to give us palm readings?" He put away the notebook again. Linda snickered again.

"I might offer it if I thought you'd open your mind to the possibility of truth at all, but no. I told you, I'm here to observe." When Spencer looked over their way she gave him a small, friendly wave.
 
When she waved at him, Spencer slightly blushed as he glanced towards Morgan too and then shaking it off, he walked over to them. "Hello. Is there a reason you've been staring at me?" He asked, glancing at Morgan who handed him his notebook with her name on it. "Linda." He glanced at her momentarily as he also took the card from Morgan, reading it and storing it in his memory. He looked the redhead over only momentarily, giving her a smile as Morgan was still talking to her to get information.
 
"Like I told your friend here: I'm observing," Linda answered coolly before looking up at Morgan, who loomed over her but didn't seem to intimidate her like he did most everyone else. "May I have my personal effects back, please?"

She thanked him as he returned her belongings, then turned her gaze back to Spencer. "I still haven't gotten either of your names, but I've seen you before. Oh, on YouTube I mean. Your lectures. Sorry, I didn't mean to sound stalker-y. I've watched some of your Georgetown lectures on YouTube. What I could understand was very interesting." Linda gave him a bright, friendly smile as she tucked her things back into her bag. "But I'm here on behalf of a mutual friend."
 
"And who is this friend?" Spencer asked, as he glanced in her direction, smiling softly. "I'm sure you already know, but I'm Dr. Spencer Reid." He said as he glanced to Morgan and then Linda once more. He offered her a smile. "And my colleague here is SSA Derek Morgan." He said as he leaned over the police barricade. "I apologize for his brashness, but as I'm sure he's already told you, killers tend to revisit the scene of their crime, and try and put themselves into the investigation."
 
"Nice to meet you, Dr. Reid," Linda replied, returning the smile and shaking his hand, "SSA Morgan." She wondered what SSA stood for, but chose not to ask right now. Morgan didn't seem to like her very much.

"Well, now I guess anything I tell you will make me sound like I did it, won't it?" She tried to pass it off as a joke, but chuckled nervously. "I'm here to offer you my services. We don't often get serial killers in Seattle and it's very disturbing to me. It's interrupting the flow of the universe, and I'd like to get that back to normal as soon as possible. Get everyone's chakras aligned and open, auras all happy and balanced, you know. Just...putting everything back the way it was. This killer has the whole city off-kilter and I'd like to help put it right. I think I could be very valuable to this investigation."

Sensing SSA Morgan wouldn't be open to accepting anything from her, and perhaps having a few motives of her own, she pulled out a business card and handed it to Dr. Reid. "Shall I give you and your team time to think it over?" she offered, knowing the answer was yes. "My number is on there when you decide to call."

Linda wasn't sensitive to the future so much as she was to the present, to the emotions and motives of others, to the universe's plan for them. She was sensitive to people as they truly were, and she knew that whether because of his team or because of his curiosity, Dr. Spencer Reid would call her within a day or two, if not that evening. She had intentionally left his question about their mutual friend unanswered.
 
Taking the card, Spencer arched a brow and nodded. "We will think it over, but I'm not sure how SSA Hotchner or SSA Rossi will feel about it." He said, as he placed the card inside his wallet and looked at her once more. "If you'll excuse me, I should get back to my team and see what we know." He softly smiled and glanced at Morgan who nodded and followed him back towards the diner. He looked at Hotchner. "What would you like me to do, Hotch?" He asked, as he played with his wallet in his back pocket, considering calling Linda when he was back at his hotel that evening. The unknown had always intrigued Spencer, and the paranormal was definitely the unknown.
 
Linda nodded, returning the smile. She watched Spencer walk away, an eyebrow arched. He was intriguing...Rube had been right. He was logical, by the books. But she could tell he was curious. Perhaps it was an academic curiosity, but curiosity nonetheless.

"Go ahead and interview her," Hotch said after some consideration. "She's confident, which means she could very well be connected to the killer."

"Or is looking to make a quick buck." Rossi rolled his eyes. "Psychics. It always pisses me off when they try to insert themselves in an investigation. Prey on families' grief."

-x-x-x-

"So you just gave him your card and walked away?" Rube's eyebrows raised.

"Well...yeah." It was difficult to get a read on Rube's emotions, but he seemed to be upset. "What else was I supposed to do? Say 'hey, your long-lost friend sent me to tell you that you're gonna die. Wanna hang out'?" Linda shook her head.

"You could have made more of an effort! You could've asked to talk to him alone, you could've..." Rube shook his head.

"Look, just...give him a couple days. If he doesn't call, we'll try a different approach." Linda sat back on the couch and looked at her phone. "Personally? I give it til about seven. He'll call. I know he will."
 
After the meeting at the diner, it was around 7:30 that evening and Reid grabbed the phone at the side of his bed in the hotel room, pulling out the card she had given him and dialing her number. "Alright, Linda, we can meet. Name a time and place." He told her over the phone, whether she answered or he got the answering machine. Once he spoke his piece, Reid hung up and headed into the bathroom to have a shower. He would meet her wherever and whenever she wanted.

OOC: Thread necromancy ftw. LOL
 
"I know it's a bit late for coffee, but I figured dessert would make up for it." Linda sat across from Reid at a little bakery an hour after he'd called. Her hair hung in damp waves from the rain, but it wasn't unattractive as she took another bite of her slice of cake. "Besides, this place has the best desserts in the entire state."

Her eyes watched him keenly as he ate and spoke. He was pretty, she could give him that. It was a shame he was about to die.

"Like I said, this killer's throwing off the entire city and I want to help make it right again," she said firmly. "He's been watching you, y'know. The sooner you close this case the safer you'll be."
 
Nodding his head, Reid kept his gaze on her as he took a bite of his own dessert. "Many would say you're probably the killer, since you seem to know so much about him." He said as he allowed his gaze to slightly linger on her and he picked up another spoonful of his cake. "How exactly do you know so much?" He asked the beautiful woman.
 
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