❝I am aware, sure, I am aware. Catastrophically aware.❞

SYLVIA PLATH

✩

4.7 : remarkable things

OR

season 5, episode 16 : mosley lane (ctd.)

"MR. AND MRS. HARTAWAY, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR COMING IN." Fin perches on the edge of her desk, as Mrs. Hartaway is sitting in her chair. "I understand this is difficult to bring up again, but–"

"Have you ever had children?" Mrs. Hartaway interrupts, her hands twisting the ends of her scarf anxiously.

"Uh, no, ma'am, I haven't," Fin replies, a little taken aback. "But–"

"Then you wouldn't understand," Mrs. Hartaway snaps, and her husband places a hand on her shoulder.

"Kathryn," he mutters, but she shakes his hand off.

"Our daughter has been missing eleven years," Mrs. Hartaway whispers shakily. "We were finally at peace. But then this–this–" She can't say anymore; just turns away, shaking with silent sobs.

"You're right." Fin slides off the edge of the desk, deciding spur-of-the-moment to take a new tactic with them. "I don't understand. A parent's love is something you can only truly grasp when you experience it, and I can't even imagine the feeling of losing a child. But there is a possibility that Karla is alive, and you are the people most equipped to help us find her. There is no one else in the world that can do as much as the both of you right now."

She reaches out and takes Mrs. Hartaway's hand in hers, squeezing it gently, and Mrs. Hartaway doesn't pull away. "We think the same people who took Aimee Lynch took Karla eleven years ago. What can you tell me about the day she was taken?"

Mr. Hartaway answers first. "It was the week after she turned eight. I was out of town at a business conference I couldn't get away from on her actual birthday, but I promised her we'd do something special the minute I got home. So Kathryn and I took her to a petting zoo all by herself. We left the other kids with my sister."

"She was so excited," Mrs. Hartaway breathes, her eyes distant, clearly remembering. "She kept saying she wanted every animal as a pet, every lamb, every rabbit, every chicken." She laughs softly.

"What drew your attention away from her?" asks Fin, as gently as she can. Time is precious and it's quickly running out.

"There was a portable toilet at the edge of the field. She had to go to the bathroom. I was going to walk her over there, but then–then there was a woman, screaming about how she'd lost her son. So I–I told Karla to go to the bathroom by herself while I helped that woman."

"She knew not to talk to strangers," Mr. Hartaway says, strangely fully calm. "My dad was a cop, I taught her to be smart, to know who to talk to and how to protect herself. She–she never would've gone off with anyone."

"I was only distracted for a minute or two," whispers Mrs. Hartaway, shaking hands covering her mouth. "But I couldn't find her anywhere. She wasn't at the bathroom or in the petting zoo or in the car. She was gone so fast..." She trails off, staring blankly at the wall behind Fin, but Fin knows she's not just seeing the wall. She's back at that petting zoo, reliving everything.

"How could that woman have taken Karla?" asks Mr. Hartaway, frowning. "She was standing right there with Kathryn."

"We believe she has at least one partner," Fin replies, glad to change the subject to something more technical. "They've used this ruse in at least a dozen other abductions, so they're experienced and efficient."

"A dozen?" Mrs. Hartaway's eyes fill with tears, and she stares around the office, at all the other parents speaking with agents around them. "All of these people–just like us?"

And she breaks down into sobs of despair, and Mr. Hartaway strokes her hair with a stoic expression on his face, and Fin excuses herself, swallowing hard, hurrying up the stairs back into the conference room.

Spencer and JJ are both sitting there, talking in low tones. Spencer's eyes land on her and he leaps to his feet. "Hey, is everything okay?"

Fin nods, wiping her eyes. "Yeah. This case is just...really bugging me. JJ, the Hartaways heard the same woman calling for her son right before Karla disappeared."

JJ nods, crossing her arms tighter over her chest. "Yeah, the Cains did, too."

Spencer reaches down and takes her hand, rubbing his thumb gently over hers. Fin can tell he really wants to hold her, but JJ's there, and there are footsteps on the stairs.

It's Sarah and Emily–when Sarah appears, Fin surreptitiously drops Spencer's hand–and after a moment, Morgan, Hotch, and Rossi join them, all of their expressions grim. It's the same story all around.

"Uh, eleven families have confirmed the same woman, forty to fifty years old, calling for children," JJ says, addressing the room. "In some cases, she even had a child with her."

"She actually used the kids for the abductions?" Sarah gasps, turning immediately to JJ, eyes wide. "Were they her own or the ones kidnapped?"

"We don't believe she's a mother," Emily replies. "Most predisposed female offenders are not."

"But they are the most violent," Spencer adds, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

Sarah's mouth forms a massive terrified "O". Fin gives him a "Seriously?" look, as do JJ and Emily, and he grimaces his apology, looking down at his shoes. Sometimes the brainiac side of him doesn't read the room well.

"You–you said that she's working with someone?" Sarah says, quickly moving on.

"It's likely a subservient male," Hotch answers, from his seat beside Spencer. "But the woman separates herself from her partners. She chooses the victim while they do the riskiest part: They grab the child and manage the getaway."

"This is what he looks like as a teenager," says JJ, holding up the drawing of Charlie the sketch artist drew and passing it to Morgan. Fin leans over his shoulder to see: Wavy hair, a strong jaw, bright eyes... He looks strikingly like Oliver. A tiny shiver runs down Fin's spine.

"Um, he's tall and thin," Sarah stammers. "His hair is, um, darker than it was, but–but that's him. That's Charlie." She smiles faintly, and it's the love that radiates from her face that creates the lump in Fin's throat.

"Why would they take the risk of letting him out in the world?" Sarah asks, suddenly confused.

"They've had him in their control for eight years," Rossi replies, shrugging. "He's either got Stockholm or he's being threatened. 'Get us another kid...and we won't kill you.'"

"Rossi!" Fin hisses, staring at him unbelievably. What is it with the men and their complete disregard for tact?

"Sarah," JJ says, touching Sarah's shoulder gently. She looks like a deer in headlights. "Let's take a break, okay?"

Sarah blinks, nods. "Okay. Okay. Thank you." And she allows JJ to lead her out the door and down the stairs into the office.

"Rossi, really?" Fin bursts out once the door closes behind JJ. "In front of his mother?"

Rossi raises his eyebrows. "What was I supposed to–?"

"All right," Morgan interrupts loudly, walking over to the evidence board and pointing at the map. "So living and working in northern Virginia. It's most likely in isolation. I mean, there's no way to explain a houseful of kids at the neighborhood block party."

"Managing this many children isn't easy," Hotch says, nodding slowly. "And there have to be incidents when things didn't go as planned. We should start with domestic calls and disturbances. Concentrate on families who were visited by social services."

Fin remembers the time Ollie tried to call CPS. Esther walked in on him mid-call and explained it away with her Southern charm. It didn't end well for him.

"I'll get Garcia," says Spencer, grabbing the stack of sketches off the table and striding out of the room.

✩

"Okay, 107 families visited by social services in the last ten years," Penelope says, dropping into a seat next to Fin. She came up with this list in record time; Fin's impressed.

"That's too many to go door-to-door," Emily says, shaking her head. "We're gonna have to narrow that down."

"We need to figure out why they're staying in northern Virginia," Hotch adds.

"You know, what if it's livelihood?" Fin suggests, frowning. "What if the unsub has a day job that's local?"

"Or they could have a child-care facility on the premises as a cover," Emily says, nodding.

"You know, it's most likely a single-income family." Spencer drums his fingers on the table, probably to the beat of a Mozart sonata. It's Mozart when he's focused, Beethoven when he's daydreaming, and Bach when he's reading. Only the best books bring out "The Well-Tempered Clavier". "Someone has to be home to stay with the kids."

"Okay. All this helps." Penelope's fingers fly across the keyboard, her eyes glued to her laptop screen.

"They've been questioned before, so we can expect a rehearsed response," Hotch says.

"How many on that list are single income?" asks Morgan, when Penelope pauses for a moment.

"Twenty-three."

Fin drops her head into her hands, rubbing her temples. While it's down from 107, twenty-three's no small number.

"What's the problem?" Rossi asks.

"We're gonna be knocking on the doors of twenty-three families," replies Morgan, before Fin can say anything. "And all of them have done something bad to a kid. We don't have a warrant. Just our profile. If we get it wrong and leave that house, they'll destroy any evidence they have, including the children."

"Not to mention the fact that there's seven of us and twenty-three doors to knock on," Fin adds, looking up from her hands. "That's precious time we can't waste right now. We don't know how often they–" She takes a deep breath– "how often they decide kids aren't worth keeping around. The time we waste knocking on doors could mean the difference in one child's life, maybe more."

There's a tense, uncomfortable silence, falling like a heavy blanket on the room, and then Hotch says, "JJ, get an article of Aimee's clothing," and everyone stands automatically, following his lead.

"What for?" asks Penelope softly.

"It's for the dogs," Morgan replies gently, and Fin falters slightly behind Spencer. She closes her eyes and prays that they'll find every child alive. Prays that no family leaves today more broken than when they came in.

It's a foolish prayer, but foolish hope is all she has.

JJ goes with Hotch and Rossi, Emily with Morgan, and Fin wants to go, but Hotch pulls her aside. "I want you and Reid to stay with Garcia."

"Why? Couldn't we be more useful, knocking on doors, shaving off time?" Fin asks, frowning.

"I need one of you here," Hotch replies. "And I couldn't send either of you alone."

"Well, then, let me go with Rossi and–"

Hotch gives her a stern look. "And when I get back, I want to talk to you."

Fin freezes. He knows something. How could he know something? Then she realizes: JJ must have overheard the conversation she had with Spencer earlier. How could she have been so stupid? She should never have talked about it so openly.

So she nods numbly and joins Spencer in Penelope's lair. He notices something's wrong and opens his mouth to ask, but she shakes her head warningly. If JJ went to Hotch, Penelope might broadcast it from the rooftops.

They wait and wait and wait for something to happen–and then, after an hour, Rossi calls: They need a search warrant for 2150 Mosley Lane. And they need dogs and radar.

Fin grits her teeth. She should have been out there. Why the hell would Hotch not let her go?

A few minutes later, Emily calls, and Morgan's there, too. They want to know about a Roger Roycewood, the man they met at the house. But nothing comes up on his personal. He's squeaky clean.

"What about their work?" Morgan asks, clearly frustrated. "We thought it could be tied to what they do for a living."

"No, employment records, taxes, it's all legit," Penelope replies, eyes scanning the pages on her computer screen. "Roger's an electrician, has been since forever."

"What about the wife?" Emily asks.

"As far as I can tell, she stays at home. I'm crossing these same records with her maiden name, Anita Weld Roycewood. I don't think I'm gonna find anything." The keyboard's practically dancing around the desk, Penelope's typing so fast. "And I'm rarely wrong, so–"

A website pops up on the screen. Fin and Spencer both bend down to read it, squinting–

"I'm wrong," Penelope breathes, wide-eyed, and she reaches out, taking Fin's hand and squeezing it tightly.

"Her family owns a funeral home in Leesburg," Spencer says calmly. "You're less than ten minutes from it."

"Oh, God." Penelope shakes her head wonderingly. "The funeral home's been in the Weld family since she was a little girl. Hearses, coffins, vans, a million ways to hide the children."

"We can't dig up ten years of coffins," Morgan says.

"You might not have to," Spencer replies grimly, pointing to a particular item on the screen, and Fin gasps, hand flying up to her mouth.

"Oh, my god, Derek, they have a crematorium."

The next ten minutes are the longest of Fin's life. She holds onto Spencer's hand like a lifeline as they wait and wait and wait to hear from Morgan and Emily. And then the call comes.

Both Roger and Anita are dead. There were three kids. Charlie, Aimee, and a girl who said her name was Mae, but who matched the description of Tracey Cain. They're bringing them back to the BAU.

Fin closes her eyes and silently mourns Karla Hartaway.

Spencer and Fin go and get Sarah Hillridge from her place by the elevators, where she's sipping her coffee, and when they tell her that Charlie is alive, she smiles widely, radiating that same love, the kind that shines out of every inch of her face. Fin brushes Spencer's hand gently, hoping he knows what she means.

"How are you doing?" asks Spencer, as they wait by the elevator doors.

"Honestly, I'm terrified," Sarah replies softly. "I've waited eight years. What if he doesn't know me? How long have you been doing this, Dr. Reid?"

"Five years, seven months, and nineteen days," Spencer replies, as if it's normal to know this.

"In your experience, what normally happens?" Sarah asks.

"Charlie was eight when he was taken, which means developmentally, he was in middle childhood," Spencer answers. "He had a stronger sense of right and wrong and a growing understanding of his place in the world. Mentally, he had the ability to talk about his thoughts and feelings, while having less focus on himself and more concern for others."

"So you think he's gonna be okay?" Sarah's frowning, and Fin knows she didn't fully understand everything that Spencer just said.

"With a mother like you, who did all this, I do." Spencer nods, a tiny smile on his lips. "I'm a doctor. I put my faith in facts and statistical probabilities, but today, eight parents are gonna have closure. Three children are going home with their families, all because you believed your son was alive. That's as close to a miracle as I've ever seen."

Sarah's lip trembles, but her eyes are joyful. Fin reaches out and takes her hand, swallowing hard, and then says the words she's been wanting to say all day. "Charlie is the luckiest boy in the world to have a mom like you, Sarah. I wish my mother had had just a fraction of the care and compassion you do."

Sarah puts her hand on top of Fin's and shakes her head. "It all comes down to love, Agent Finley. I love Charlie more than anything in the world. People can do remarkable things in love."

And then the elevator doors open and a man steps out. Sarah's jaw drops. "Jake," she murmurs.

Fin takes Spencer's hand and pulls him away, toward the doors to the office, leaving Sarah alone with her ex-husband. She wraps her arms around his neck and he pulls her close, holding her tight. They're still in love, Fin can tell. But love can't heal wounds that deep without work.

The elevator doors ding softly. They open.

Emily and Morgan step out, their hands on the shoulders of three children: a little girl; another girl, maybe twelve; and a teenage boy with wavy hair and bright eyes.

"Charlie?" Sarah whispers, and the lump in Fin's throat resurfaces, making it hard to breathe.

"Mom." Charlie walks into his mother's arms, and his father holds them both tightly, shoulders shaking. Spencer puts his hand on Fin's lower back, an anchor, holding her there.

But Morgan's walking over to the Shepherds. Mrs. Shepherd covers her mouth with her hand, closing her eyes and sobbing into her palm, while her husband holds her, face expressionless.

Aimee Lynch runs into her mother's arms, grinning widely; Tracey Cain rests her head on her mother's shoulder, eyes closed, a peaceful expression on her face.

A single tear makes its way down Fin's cheek. She misses her father. It's a horrible ache, one that burns inside. She can't even remember his voice.

"Finley."

Fin hastily scrubs her face with her sleeve and turns around. Hotch is there, looking stern as always.

"What's going on?" Spencer whispers, frowning.

Fin shakes her head. "Nothing."

She follows Hotch into his office, and the nervous churning of her stomach intensifies when he shuts the door behind her. "Hotch, is something wrong?"

"You had a conversation earlier today," Hotch says, standing behind his desk, arms crossed, "that was overheard. You said–" He looks down at a paper on his desk– "'I'm terrified and I don't know what to do. But I'm damned if I'll let her take my family away from me again.'" Hotch makes eye contact with her again. "What were you talking about?"

"That was a private conversation, Hotch, I don't–"

"Fin, if you're in danger, you can't keep that to yourself," Hotch says quietly. "We're your best resource in a crisis."

"It's not a crisis," Fin tries again, but lying is feeble at best to a profiler, and she's too scared to lie well. "I'm not in danger. I just..." She trails off, unable to think of a good cover story, something that makes sense.

Hotch's expression softens. "If you need to take a few days–"

"No!" The last thing Fin needs is a week alone. She's terrified of staying in one place too long. "I mean, no. Thank you, sir, but I promise, I'm fine. I've been having an argument with my sister and it's just...gotten out of hand."

It's clear from his expression that Hotch doesn't believe her in the slightest, but incredibly, he nods. "Alright. But I'm serious, Fin. Keeping things to yourself is the last thing you should do. Let us help."

Fin nods slowly. "Thanks, Hotch."

She lets herself out of his office and joins the others, taking down the photos in the conference room, packing the files into boxes, and ignores the little voice in her head that screams to tell them everything.

She can't. She loves them too much.

People can do remarkable things in love.

~

this episode always makes me cry, right at the end. mgg really likes to rip your heart out.