Blood and Battle | Criminal Minds (gxg)

Chapter 4

TW: mentions of sexual @ssualt/r@pe, t0rture, strangling

I watch the team enter the precinct from the conference room. Agent Greenaway takes a young man in handcuffs into the interrogation room on the other side of the station. The rest remain in the bullpen. I drain my cup of coffee before crushing it and tossing it into the wastebasket and leaving the room. Gideon sees me coming and directs the rest of them my way.

"The hands. Give us a run down," Gideon says.

"Okay, there's a couple things it could be." I turn back towards the conference room, the boys following me. "Common torture techniques include damaging the fingers. Sticking needles under the nails, smashing fingers, shaving the tips– I think you get my point. But it's also a countermeasure. The women can't scratch him as well with fingers as bloodied and cut as these. And they have no nails to catch any traceable DNA. It probably connects in some way to his childhood trauma. After Slessman lost his mother, he may have resorted to nail-biting driven by anxiety. What did his hands look like?"

Entering the conference room, we spread out around the table.

"His hands look unscarred and his nails are long, clean. We didn't see any defensive wounds," Morgan says.

"None?" I look up. "That's... strange. But there's more." I turn to the crime board behind me where I've displayed most of the images of the victims' injuries.

"The injuries, they don't match up."

"Alright, torture master, what do you mean?" Morgan asks from the other side of the room.

"First off, you really need to stop calling me that."

"I think it works."

"I disagree."

"Guys." Hotch interjects.

"Right, sorry. The injuries are inconsistent, as well as the rape. Some bruises are larger than others, but the angle is the same, meaning hit with the same hand. But there's still a difference."

"Did he use brass knuckles?" someone asks from the doorway.

"No. The damage would have been much worse. Also, the inconsistencies of the dump sites. Dumped with carelessness implies he's young, but the way he advances his killing method shows maturity. He shows no remorse when torturing them, but clothes their bodies."

"And he's too organized to be bipolar. He'd be devolving by this point." A woman's voice is beside me. I see the shadow of her body in my peripheral vision but remain focused on what's in front of me.

"And then there's the rape," I continue.

"Without penetration. Implies older age."

I nod. "But Slessman's younger. Of course, his anger matches the beating of the women and the aggressive rape."

"He also doesn't have the confidence to approach these women. They'd be suspicious of his insecurities," she continues.

"The inconsistency of the injuries, varying levels of remorse and confidence-"

"It's like his impulses are conflicting with one another. Two levels of aggression, remorse, sexual energy. Which means-"

"There's two of them." I finish her sentence and feel the acknowledgment sweep over the room.

Only then do I turn towards her. My heart skips a beat as my eyes catch hold of her red jacket. I quickly overcome my hesitation and take the hand she's held out. Her fingers are delicate but she shakes my hand firmly.

"Elle Greenaway." Her voice is steady, her eyes on mine.

Up close I notice even more details. Her eyes are a dark, deep walnut shade looking into my lighter, caramel irises. Her eyebrows sit in a perfect arch, barely visible freckles splattered across her nose and cheekbones. Her lips are soft, rosy, separated slightly. I was right about the holster– her badge and cell phone are on her right while her gun rests on her left, the sleek black handle tucked into her jacket.

"Carli D'angelo." I give her a small, yet intrigued smile. After a moment of her hand in mine, I let go and turn back to the group. Reid looks back at Morgan, who has a smirk spreading across his features. Hotch and Gideon exchange glances before looking back at me and Elle.

I continue, ignoring their looks. "We need to talk to Slessman. If we're lucky he'll give us a name or a location, but it's unlikely. He's the submissive of the relationship and will be terrified to give his partner up."

Hotch nods in agreement as he and I make eye contact. He eyes me precariously before turning to address the group. "Morgan, Reid, head back to Slessman's house and see what you can find. I'll stay here and try to get him to talk. Garcia gave us the name of the security guard in charge of Slessman's wing when he was detained. C, go with Gideon and Greenaway to question him."

I nod in acknowledgment.

"The partner may be his cellmate or someone he was close to in jail," Hotch continues. "We'll have Garcia look into it."

Morgan takes out his phone and leaves the room to call her, Reid following behind.

Gideon turns towards the two of us. "Head to the car, I'll be right there."

I nod and turn towards the door of the conference room, motioning for Greenaway to go ahead of me. She does and I follow her.

"So, Agent D'angelo–"

I interrupt, "D'angelo's fine. Or Carli. Or C. They pretty much call me whatever at this point," I say with a slight laugh.

She returns the smile. "D'angelo. It's nice to meet you."

"You too, Greenaway."

"Elle. How long have you been with the BAU?" We reach the entrance and stop for a moment before heading outside.

I turn to look at her. "About a year and a half now." I can tell she wants to know more but is hesitant. "You're consulting, is this a one time thing? Or will we be seeing more of you?"

"More, if all goes well," she says with a small smile.

I smile back, an unfamiliar feeling in my gut at the thought of her sticking around. I try to hide it by putting my hood over my head and stepping out into the rain, holding the door open for her to follow me.

Her hand brushes mine as she takes the door handle.

"You two ready to go?" Gideon appears behind Greena– Elle. The three of us step out into the pouring rain, heading to the SUV parked right out front. Gideon tosses me the keys before getting into the passenger seat while Elle climbs into the back.

We talk about the case briefly, then ride in silence the rest of the way. My eyes keep flickering to my rear view mirror, more than once meeting her gaze in the reflection. I chastise myself and return my attention to the road.

Snap out of it, C. She's an agent. And she's trying to join your team. Whatever this is, forget about it.