Odd Fish, Chapter 2/?

[coffeebuddha]

Title: Odd Fish
Author: coffeebuddha
Rating: PG-13/FRT
Characters/Pairings: eventual Morgan/Reid, Hotch/Garcia, minor Rossi/Prentiss, mentions of JJ/Will, large supporting cast made up of unsubs, victims, and recurring characters
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.
Contains: Boys kissing boys, boys kissing girls, girls kissing girls, girls kissing boys, old west slang, historical inaccuracies, historical accuracies, murder, sex, people with guns, women in shin length skirts, drinking, and period appropriate reactions to homosexuality.
Summary: Spencer Reid moved to the small cow town of Beayue, Texas a few months ago in an attempt to run from his problems, but things take a sour turn when he ends up being accused of murder. AU set in the old west.

WARNING! This chapter contains descriptions of a murdered child. You have been warned.

Chapter One

 

***
 

Derek's arm slowly falls from around Hotch and he takes a jerky step forward, dimly aware that the other man has sunk to his knees behind him.

"Oh God, please, not again. No. No, no, no," Hotch chants brokenly. Any other time, Derek would willing be at his side to help him with whatever internal demons he's fighting, but Hotch's breakdown will have to wait.

Now that he's noticed the boy-It's the Jenkins boy, his brain absently supplies. Little Riley Jenkins.-the smell of the body hits him. It's mingled with the odor of the rotten vegetables that are scattered over his body and a fresh pile of manure nearby, but the cloying, coppery scent of blood is heavy underneath it and makes him swallow thickly and nearly take a step back. He pulls a worn, stained hankerchief out of his pocket, presses it over his nose and mouth, and forces himself to move forward until he's right next to the broken body. The dirt around Riley is dark and tacky and sticks to Derek's boots when he steps in it.

Fat black flies swarm lazily around the boy, clustered thickest around his midsection where his once off-white shirt is ripped open down the front and stained rust red from the blood-the torn fabric is stuck, matted to his unnaturally pale skin by it. Derek flaps a hand at the flies and they drift away just long enough for him to see the deep, neat stab wounds to his abdomen. His stomach is crusted with blood, some of which is already starting to flake off, and in the wounds themselves the blood looks congealed, almost jelly-like.

There are odd marks around his mouth and, when Derek leans in closer, he can see several tiny red dots on his otherwise ashen face. His eyes are still open-filmy, bloodshot, discolored, and staring blankly into the distance-and it's not until Derek reaches out to close them that he notices his hands are shaking.

"Sheriff? Is there something amiss?"

Derek tenses, because the tone of Miss Emily's voice makes it more than clear she knows very well that something's not right and she's merely asking as a matter of course. He look over his shoulder just in time to see her catch a glimpse of Riley. Her dark eyes go wide with shock and horror and her already fair complexion goes ashen. For a moment he's worried that she'll faint and give him another problem to deal with, but, after a long second, she pulls herself together and nods smartly.

"Right. You have your hands full here, so why don't I see that Mr. Hotchner makes it home safely?" Miss Emily asks. Her tone sounds off, but it's still remarkably steady, and Derek feels a sudden burst of admiration for her. A formidable woman, indeed.

"I would certainly appreciate it." Derek roughly rubs a hand over his face. "Do you know the way?"

Miss Emily shoots him a look she usually reserves for occasions like when a tenant requests an extension on their bill and leans down to gently help Hotch back up on his feet. "I think I can manage," she says flatly.

Derek nods absently, his mind already lost in trying to figure out what he's going to tell Leroy and Martha Jenkins.

*

Aaron had only let Miss Emily hold onto his arm for a few steps before he pulled way with a sharp, "I can walk on my own." She'd arched an eyebrow at him a few times when he'd stumbled and nearly fallen, but she hadn't actually said anything.

When they reach his front door, Miss Emily stops him with a hand on his forearm and, suddenly looking a little concerned, asks, "Are you certain that you will be all right on your own?"

Aaron yanks his arm away and glares at her. "I'll be fine," he says between clenched teeth. "I certainly don't need you mothering me."

She blinks, but doesn't seem phased by his rudeness. "If you say so, Mr. Hotchner. I'm sure you know what's best."

His hands are clumsy on the lock, the doorknob, but after a couple of tries he manages to get the door open and, with a dismissive wave to Miss Emily, he escapes into the dim, almost claustrophobic sanctuary of his tiny house. Despite the slovenly state of his personal appearance, the few rooms he occupies are obsessively tidy with everything in its place. Not that there's much to put in it's place. He slumps down onto the stool next to a small, scarred table, and lays his forehead on its cool surface.

There's a bottle of Sheepherder's Delight in the battered cabinet next to his potbellied stove. It's raw, lethal stuff, but his need to block out the last half hour or so has him back on his feet and pulling out the bottle before he even realizes he's doing it. The first mouthful nearly chokes him, burning the soft tissues of his mouth and throat as it goes down.

He's only taken a couple of sips when there's a firm, persistant knock on his door. It's the sort of knock that boldly proclaims 'I know you're in there and I'm not leaving until you open up and make me, so why don't you quit wasting both our time and just answer the damn door already'. Aaron slams the bottle down on the table and yanks the door open with a rough, "What?"

Penelope Garcia eyeballs him, apparently as unperturbed by his temper as Miss Emily had been, and tilts her head inquisitively at him. "Now, Aaron, is that really any way to speak to a guest," Penelope purrs.

Her carefully made up face is arranged in its usual cheerful expression, but underneath her practiced mask is a hint of concern. She brushes past him into the room, her garish, scandalously short skirts grazing his calf. After a moment, he shuts the door and watches her glance around the room, although they both know it's unchanged from the last time she was here. Finally, she turns back to him, her expressive eyes wide with affected demureness. "I thought you might be in the mood for some company."

Aaron leans back against the closed door and massages the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "You thought wrong. If that was all?" He asks, pushing away from the door.

Penelope sashays over and presses up against him. Her nose wrinkles a little when she smells the alcohol on him, but she just smiles wider, moves closer. "You're going to hurt my feelings if you act like that, my gruff grizzly bear."

"Penelope." The feel of her lush body against his is comforting, and that realization makes his stomach churn with cold queasiness. He sidesteps around her to get at his bottle. Before he can drink any, Penelope circles around him and snags it. She sniffs the mouth of the bottle delicately and makes a show of studying the label. Aaron uses what little self control he has left to stop himself from snarling at her as he snatches the bottle back. "What are you doing here?"

"Such a lapper," Penelope says, her voice as teasing as her smile, but the concern in her eyes as she watches him take a long swallow is even more pronounced. "I saw Emily Prentiss on the street a few minutes ago. We got to jawing and she told me about the Jenkins boy. I just-"

"It's not your concern," Aaron says shortly. "Why don't you go play with your baubles and beads? Distract yourself from the unpleasantness."

"The way you distract yourself," she asks, eyeing the whiskey bottle. Her smile is still fixed in place, but it's flatter, less bright than it was before. "A little boy was murdered, Aaron. You can't tell me that that doesn't get to you, doesn't effect you, especially after Haley and Jack-"

"Don't," Aaron cuts her off again, his dark eyes flashing. "I'm fond of you, Penelope, but you're overstepping yourself. Don't talk about them."

"Aaron," Penelope says softly, "Look at what you're doing to yourself, sugar. Do you really think Haley would want this?"

"Stop it! Don't say her name. I don't want someone like you saying her name!" Aaron yells. There's a sharp crack and its not until he lifts his hand to take another drink that he realizes he's thrown the bottle. Shards of glass litter the floor and amber colored liquid drips down the rough wooden wall behind Penelope. A few inches to the right and it would have hit her, but she doesn't seem to notice. Instead, all of her attention is fixed on Aaron.

"Someone like me," she says lowly, her smile dropping for the first time since he opened the door. Her eyes narrow dangerously as she advances toward him. "And what, pray tell, is that supposed to mean?"

"Penelope," Aarons starts weakly, but she cuts him off before he can continue.

"Perhaps I'm not as godly and pure as your precious Haley, but I will not have you or anyone else forgetting that I'm a lady. It may have escaped your attention, Mr. Hotchner, but there aren't a whole lot of people left who care a lick about you, and most of those who do like me better these days. I would hate for you to have a falling out with them because you couldn't stop yourself from making insinuations about my reputation." Her footsteps are as steady and even as her voice, and the smart 'clip' of them seems unnaturally loud in Aaron's ears.

"I am not some whore, and I won't have you talking to me like I am. I'm here because, for some reason I don't quite know myself right now, I care for you. It might do you well to remember that and stop attitudinizing. You're no better than me, Mr. Hotchner." Penelope's standing right in front of him, just barely not touching him, with her hands on her hips and her chin lifted challengingly. She's clearly waiting for him to say something, and after a long pause, Aaron clears his throat.

"No, you're better than I could ever be, Penelope." His voice is soft, softer than he had meant it to be, and even he can hear the pain in it. "You're as classy a lady as I've ever met, and I apologize."

Her angry expression melts, but the new look on her face is almost worse. Aaron can't, won't put a name to it, although it isn't unfamiliar. It makes his chest swell and the bottom of his stomach drop. It's dangerous is what it is, and, not for the first time, he ignores it, opting instead to lean down and kiss Penelope until she's clinging to him and the only thing he can see in her eyes is a coy, slightly dazed wanting. Her painted lips curve into a wanton smile and she captures his wrists in her small hands.

"Apology accepted, sweet cheeks. But I think you might still need to make it up to me a bit," she says with a grin as she walks backwards toward his bedroom, pulling him along with her.

*

"I'm so sorry, Leroy," Derek says, reaching out to clasp the other man's shoulder. Leroy draws a shaky breath and his eyes are overly bright. His wife, Martha, is sitting in a rocking chair with her face buried in her hands, her thin shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Derek pulls Leroy a little farther away from her and drops his voice so that she won't hear them. "I'm going to do my best to find the son of a bitch that did this, but it would help if you could tell me if you've noticed anything peculiar about Riley's behavior lately. Was he talking to or spending time with anyone he hadn't been? Was he having any problems with anyone?"

Leroy looks at him blankly for a moment, then blinks, his lips pressed into a thin line. "That doctor friend of yours. Anyone with eyes to see knows that the man isn't exactly what you would call right, and the other day I noticed him talking with Riley on the street. Struck me as odd since they'd never bothered with each other before then."

Derek reels back a little in surprise. "Dr. Reid? Are you sure?"

Leroy glares at him. "Yeah, I am. He's the only thing that's been out of place. Are you going to do your job or not, Sheriff?"

"I'll look into it, but I just don't see him as being the type to go around killing," Derek says placatingly. "Do me a favor and let me talk to him before you start reckoning up the man."

"Oh, you would say that," Leroy sneers. "Everyone knows how close you two are. If something's going to be done about that little shack, I can see I'm going to have to be the one to do it."

"Leroy, I know you want someone to blame, but you need to calm down and think about this rationally. You know Dr. Reid, and you've never had a problem with him before now. Tarnation, man, he got sick when that horse broke its leg and had to be put down. Does that sound like the sort of person who could stomach doing something like this?"

"I reckon he could be innocent, but he could just as easily have us all snowed. I mean to find out which it is."

Before Derek can stop him, Leroy pushes past him and out the door.

*

Spencer lingers near the door of the jail and checks his pocket watch for the third time in the last five minutes. He fidgets, nervously cleaning his wire rim glasses, and wonders what could be keeping Sheriff Morgan. Nothing really seems to be out of the ordinary, although he had noticed a few clusters of people talking in hushed tones earlier. Maybe something had gone wrong and Morgan was busy taking care of it? He checks his watch again and wonders whether he shouldn't just go.

"Dr. Reid! I've got a bone to pick with you!" Spencer jumps at the loud shout. The voice is familiar, although the amount of anger helps to disguise it's owner, and Spencer frowns as he tries to place it.

He turns just in time to see the fist headed straight toward his face.

***

Chapter Three

Feedback is overwhelmingly appreciated.

To clarify, yes, Garcia is a saloon girl at Rossi's place. Most people seem to think that women who worked in saloons were prostitutes, but they usually weren't. They were there to keep men entertained-keep them company, dance with them, flirt a little, serve drinks, etc. While they were certainly considered less respectable by a lot of other women, most of them were just doing what they had to do to earn a wage. There would have been some cross over, of course, but most saloon girls looked down on prostitutes and wanted nothing to do with them. Ironically, they could usually make more money by flirting and selling drinks than they could have by selling their bodies. If you're interested in finding out more, check out my resource page.

MEGA huge thanks to topetine , who has gone above and beyond the call of duty/friendship by doing all sorts murder fact checking for me in a book when I couldn't find what I needed online. You are too awesome for words!

Resources for Odd Fish

Old West Slang:
Attitudinize - To assume an affected attitude.

Jawing - talking
Lapper - A hard drinker
Reckoning up - Talking about something or someone in a slanderous manner.
Shack - A vagabond, a low fellow.

Sheepherder's Delight - cheap whiskey

Comments

[wingstarvegeta.livejournal.com]

Damn. That was pretty intense. I can't wait for the next chapter! Will bow in worship for more!

Love and cherries,
Wingstar

[coffeebuddha.livejournal.com]

I wasn't sure if I could make it would work or not, so thank you! <3

[wingstarvegeta.livejournal.com]

You got me curious! That's hard to do. LOL.

[(Anonymous)]

I'm the anonymous commenter from Chapter 1 (can't yet bring myself to create yet another online account, sorry). Again, very much with the awesome! This made my day. Love that Emily compartmentalizes in the Old West as much as she does now - a nice touch. Looking forward to see which other characters you bring in. : )

[coffeebuddha.livejournal.com]

That's why I leave anonymous comments enabled. ^.^ Thank you so much! I'm really trying to keep the characters as realistic and IC as possible, just in a different setting. Good to know I'm succeeding at least a little. =D

[ragcat.livejournal.com]

This is so cool. I grew up watching the cheesy westerns and I can just see the CM cast in this universe. You have it down!

[coffeebuddha.livejournal.com]

Thank you! My dad's a HUGE fan of westerns, especially if they have John Wayne, so I grew up watching them too. Sometimes against my will... XD

[gothabilly13.livejournal.com]

INTENSE! I am so lovin this fic doll! Cannot wait to read more. Keep up the great writing

[coffeebuddha.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

[emmakinney.livejournal.com]

Wo I just read the two chapters together and this is friggin AWESOME! I love Garcia, and poor Hotch. Emily is awesome and poor little Reid. I hope this gets cleared up and I can't wait for the next chapter.

Woohoo, awesome storyline.
Waiting patiently.

Emma

[coffeebuddha.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much!

[tafidadarling.livejournal.com]

Yes! I knew Garcia just had to be the dancer in the saloon. I love it!

As much as I know Reid couldn't have done it... Is it sad that I could see Reid being the killer? That must stem from the theory my sister, her boyfriend and I have that Reid's a serial killer who has been killing this entire time. XD

I can't wait for Chapter Three! :)

[coffeebuddha.livejournal.com]

With as wonderfully flamboyant as she is, there was never a chance of her ending up anywhere else. :D

Well, I wouldn't say he couldn't have done it...Nah, he's not the killer. How awesome would it have been if he was though? I might need to do something with that. Later. Maybe as a little add on to the next chapter. *plots*

Thank you so much!

[tafidadarling.livejournal.com]

I was hoping, but I have been wrong before. :P

Yeah, in this story it would be too devestating. He just came out West to start over. Why would he kill someone then?

I know! That idea hs been in my head since reading a review with MGG where he said if he was written out of the show, it would have to be as a killer. When I wrote my story of the BAU as the characters from Clue, I had to make him the bad guy.

You're oh so welcome dear! :)

[coffeebuddha.livejournal.com]

He would kill them because he is a monster! Bwahahaha!

And that right there is why I love MGG. He's such a goof. XD

[tafidadarling.livejournal.com]

I could totally see it happening, though, him being a serial killer.

He is. It's part of his charm.

[coffeebuddha.livejournal.com]

Oh, it's totally plausible. With all that they've done to set up parallels between him and different unsubs, I'm almost surprised he hasn't already started slashing people. Part of what makes his character so great is that he shows how just one little different choice can make the difference between an unsub and a profiler. Practically his entire life has been a stresser, but at the end of the day he's still one of the good guys, even though it would be so easy to snap.

[tafidadarling.livejournal.com]

Very true. As Garcia would say, his life reads like how to make an unsub.

I think the show did a great job making it that all the characters did have their experiences in life that make them the few that take bad times and use them to be stronger instead.

[topetine.livejournal.com]

First and foremost? Attitudinize needs to be brought back into the american (at least southern) vernacular. I think its my new fav word. :D
Second? I wanna be a saloon girl!!! :( lol.

Now that that's out of the way: this was real and gritty- physically and emotionally. The parallels between what happened to hotch and the case in town is heartbreaking for him and the readers can /feel/ it.
Penelope is as wonderful as ever and I oficially want her in a saloon girl outfit in some episode in the near future. She has the perfect balance of aloofness, tender and tough love and of course her lovely spark :)
And oh my emily, I can totally see her as she is in this role. She is just such
wonderful and versitile support.

And the description of the scene and morgan's handling of it was perfect- not too gory but not too sugarcoated either. And morgan is captured wonderfully because you see despite his shock and horror at the scene he knows he has a job to do, and is noticing evidence.


The parents of riley were very believable and another heartbreaking scene. You can just imagine leeroy on the farm like tending to his chickens before he gets the bad news.

And of course, poor spencer. Eternally clueless :)

I really am loving this story because it embodies the concept of au-you have fully created another universe in which these characters fit perfectly :)

And its my pleasure to help, darling, it's my job (someday lol)

[coffeebuddha.livejournal.com]

I know, right? I read it and my first thought was 'That is such a Garcia word. I. Must. Use. It.' Can't you just see her saying it on the show if someone got uppity with her?

There is time for that yet...

I knew you liked it, but wow. Thank you so much, hun! I'm all blushy and flattered right now. <3

[topetine.livejournal.com]

Hehe. Yes indeed! I will bring it back!

Hahah but I wanna be a real saloongirl too lol.

:) I live to serve *hug* and is all troo.

[coffeebuddha.livejournal.com]

1. Find an old west town.
2. Apply for a job working as a saloon girl.
3. ???
4. Profit!

[tafidadarling.livejournal.com]

Ooh, can I work in the saloon too? :D

[coffeebuddha.livejournal.com]

Sure, just as soon as I find one. ;)

[tafidadarling.livejournal.com]

Huzzah.

[innerslytherin]

I am really enjoying this so far. You're doing a great job of writing the characters into parallel roles. I'm intrigued by Hotch's tragic backstory, and the idea of Garcia as the saloon girl is awesome. Looking forward to the Dave/Emily you've mentioned as well. :)

[coffeebuddha.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much!

[edom56.livejournal.com]

I love this story! I read both chapters just now and I can't wait to see where it is going. Please update soon :D

[coffeebuddha.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I'm trying to, but between projects for school and a busted laptop, I'm a lot farther behind in my writing than I'd planned/hoped to be.