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Post by matthew on Oct 4, 2009 4:37:17 GMT -5
The three year old boy sat fidgeting in his seat in the BAU interrogation room. This was the first time in days he had been out of the house. His parents were no where to be seen and his arm still hurt from the night before, when the father had had a fit of rage and had grabbed him by the arm to throw him into the dark closet. The closet door hadn't been opened until this morning, but it wasn't the parents who had opened the door. No, it had been a police officer. At first the boy had been scared but the police officer had introduced himself as Derek Morgan and he'd assured the boy that everything was going to be okay. The boy had slowly crawled out of there and into the open arms of Morgan. Where the parents had gone was still a mystery for the three year old, but as long as someone was there, who cared about him, he didn't care. The boy looked at the police officer who now sat infront of him, on the otherside of the table, asking him questions about his parents. It wasn't the police officer Morgan who had found him. This was someone else. He had dark blond hair and blue eyes. His clothes didn't look like everyone elses. He had normal clothing, a blue check shirt and a darker blue tie to go with it. The boy had jeans and a green T-shirt. The same t-shirt he had yesterday, and the day before that, and even the day before that! What this person wanted him to do was to draw what he did last night before the police came. The boy stared at the crayons in all shades of colour that lay on the table beside a blank A4 paper. He hadn't spoken a word since last night but he didn't feel the urge to speak either. Grabbing the black crayon, he started to draw big black circles. Circles that crossed each other. By the time he was done it looked like one big black hole or a ball that almost occupied the whole paper. Beside the hole, in the very bottom left corner of the paper, was a small orange stickman. This stickman was supposed to be the little boy. The boy put the crayon down and kept his gaze at the table all the time until someone opened the door to the room they were sitting in, and another voice was heard... ______ OOC: I don't mind who the person that opens the door is. Also, I didn't know where to post this. If it's wrong you can always move it.
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Post by Krys Robin on Oct 4, 2009 10:50:40 GMT -5
In all fairness she had been tricked. Krys had been hiding out in her little cabin safe from being involved in the whirlwind that was CT or the BAU. She liked it that way (in the sense that she could hide away and not deal with certain feelings). But upon recieving a call from Hayley and Matt she had hurried back but was surprised when Hayley met her at the station and provided her with an exchange ticket to the BAU.
At first Krys had been mad. She wanted to yell. To knock her right over. It was then explained that Hayley had recieved a call from the BAU's Derek Morgan in regards to a case that Krys could provide assistance for. At first Krys was hesitant. How could she help? Couldn't Penelope handle the computer/technical side of things? It was only then that Hayley showed her the files, the pictures of the scene, the poor boy's back that Krys knew: He had been abused. That's why they were bringing her in. She felt sick, Hayley gave her the option to leave if she wanted, but once again told her they needed her help. Finally a decision was made that Krys would go as long as her presence remained a secret (especially from certain people). Very few knew, mainly only Derek Morgan (Matt didn't even know).
And so she arrived in Virginia. Quietly, with a hung head, moving through the hallways. The bandages around her wrists ever present despite the time that had passed. Finally she was guided to the interrogation room door. Krys had never even participated in an interrogation so she was nervous, despite the fact the poor boy was three. What would she say? What could she say?
Upon quietly opening the door, she stood in the doorway for a moment, taking a slow breath to prepare herself. Giving a final nod she entered, switching places with the man who had been in there keeping the boy company previously. She sat in quiet, studying the little boy carefully before she dared to look at the picture he had drawn.
"Can I see?" She coaxed quietly, giving a bit of a point as her hand emerged from under the table. "I uh... Drew one like that before." She admitted, not outwardly coming out and saying how much they had in common (she wasn't comfortable enough to do that yet) but still, it was a start.
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Post by matthew on Oct 4, 2009 11:30:16 GMT -5
The boy watched as the police officer that had kept him company switched places with a dark haired woman. Why they switched places, he couldn't figure out. He was starting to think no one wanted to stay with him. "He doesn't want you, kiddo." His mother's words echoed in his head, meaning the father didn't want him. " It's all your fault" His father's words rang in his head after the mother's. The boy lowered his head once again and pressed his back against the chairs backsupport. He wasn't afraid of the woman, just that he was going to do something wrong and that she didn't want to be near him, like everyone else that had left. (This was what the boy thought of course.)
When the woman asked him if she could see the drawing he had made, he brought his head up again and looked at her. "Yes" Came a weak reply. Almost impossible to be heard. He hesitaded a few seconds before leaning forward and grabbing the picture in his hand. He was to small to reach over the table to give it to the woman. Of course she could see it from her place and she would probably have reached it but the three year old didn't think of that. Slowly he slid down from his chair and pulled up his jeans an inch, with his free hand. He moved around the glass table, his eyes darting back and forth, afraid his parents would burst through the door at any second. When he reached the woman's side, careful he didn't get too close, he held out the picture and waiting for her to take it. Once she did he quickly moved back to his seat across the table and started to play with the crayons nervously until she spoke again.
The three year old looked up at her surprised. You did? He thought but didn't say. Had she felt the same way he did now? Alone, hurt, and worthless?
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Post by Krys Robin on Oct 4, 2009 11:55:31 GMT -5
He stood up and approached, though minimal it was quite surprising and they were certainly making leway. The BAU would be thrilled, especially Derek, seeing as this was his case since he found the lad. While holding the picture Krys watched the little boy quietly make his way back to his seat and sit back down. Well, progress was progress, no matter how shortlived. The tip of her tongue ran over the inside roof of her mouth.
In hopes of stirring more conversation from the little boy she gave a nod before glancing around the interrogation room. "In a room like this actually." She explained, her voice sounded distant but this was a mere defense for herself. "I was older though. They still make you do the same picture stuff, right up until you're sixteen." Though she was attempting to relate in the best way that she could that didn't mean she wanted to throw herself at a three year old's mercy. She also subconciously figured that she wasn't the best one to be giving advice, given the bandages around her wrists.
"You've met Agent Morgan." Once again she tried to make conversation with the very quiet boy. "He's a friend of mine too." She turned her gaze back on the little boy. His file was toward the left corner of the table, Derek had explained some of it as had Hayley, so Krys didn't move to reach for it yet. She had been there before.
"He's not the one who uh, found me though. Just a friend from work." She shifted a bit in her seat, uncomfortable, for the tidbits of information she was about to reveal. "Well, my old job. I don't really work here... any...more.." Her voice trailed off as she focused her gaze back on the youngster. "You're a special case so.. I'm back. A little out of my element... But back." She did her best to give him a little smile, though she realized all too well he probably didn't have much to smile about.
"You uh... Like to color?" The analyst's head tilted slightly, her hands folded lightly in her lap out of nerves. "If you like it when we have a break I can run down to the corner store and get you a box to keep." Biting down on her bottom lip she nodded toward the VERY used crayons in his posession. "Those are kind of the 'house' crayons."
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Post by matthew on Oct 4, 2009 14:32:37 GMT -5
The boy didn't quite understand what the woman meant with 'the picture stuff'. Did everyone come here to draw pictures. If so, where were the others? Frowning slightly, he thought of asking her what she meant but chose not to. Instead he grabbed another crayon and started to draw another picture of two angry stickmen. He tried to tell her about what had happened, like the man before her had asked him to do.
The stickmen had huge eyes, almost half of their head size, no nose, only a big mouth with sharp teeth. The bodies were square shape and the feet and hands were represented by circles. Even though he looked like he wasn't listening to her talking, he did. He heard everyword she said about not working there anymore and him beeing a special case. What case was she talking about? What did the word case mean? Shrugging off the questions he added some hair on one of the stickmen.
The boy was into his drawing when he heard the name 'Morgan' which made him look up at the woman infront of him again. Did she know him? "Morgan let me out" Was all he said as if the woman infront of him knew he had been locked up in a closet. His voice was still very fragile and the words came out slowly. It was something special with her. Even though he had never met her before or knew her name yet he felt in the pit of his stomach that she wasn't going to hurt him in any way. The police could some times be scary for him. Especially when they had their guns visible. He had seen on films how violent they could be.
With those words he returned to his drawing, suddenly feeling very thirsty. He hadn't been eating or drinking for hours! When the woman offered to get him a new box of crayons to keep, the boy stared at her, eyes wide open. Did she really mean it? He had never owned crayons before. All he had to paint with at home was his parents pens. " To keep?" He asked after a moments pause, to make sure he had heard right.
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Post by Krys Robin on Oct 4, 2009 14:43:03 GMT -5
Krys watched the little boy draw with a slightly tilted head. She was perfectly content to watch him in quiet, even though her heart raced nervously. It wasn't because she was intimidated of scared, she just had never been on the opposite end of things within the confines of an interrogation room before. She didn't want to mess things up and inadvertantly ruin this boy's life and Derek Morgan's case. She had a habit of messing things up. Some things never changed.
"I'm glad that Agent Morgan found you." She noted quietly with a weak, gentle smile. Her fingers clenched around the fabric of her pants lightly, drawing some comfort from there in order to continue speaking. "Matt found me." In realizing her error she blinked and her fingers released from around the fabric. "I mean, Agent Grimaldi." Not like it mattered, it wasn't like the kid knew him or was all for formalities. Still, she had felt the need to correct herself. "You remind me of him actually. You're both very quiet and have brown hair." This was a little thought that made her smile. She missed Matt. Ever since the day when he found her they had an odd, caring sort of relationship going on. Had she ruined it? She pushed those thoughts aside.
When the boy looked up excitedly she gave a genuine, closed mouth smile. She just couldn't help it. "Yes. To keep." The analyst straightened up in her seat, hands now grasping the edges of the seat so to balance herself (while being careful of the bandages around her wrists). "I'm pretty sure you'll take good care of them. I'll buy them during break, alright?" Biting lightly down on her bottom lip, she wet it carefully before sliding forward a bit in her chair.
"My name's Krys Robin. You don't have to call me Agent Robin though. No one really does. Some people call me Krys, or Robin, someone even called me Kryssy, but you can call me whatever you like." She offered gently, hoping to get a few more words out of the little boy.
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Post by matthew on Oct 4, 2009 15:06:18 GMT -5
When Krys confirmed that the crayons she was going to buy to him was for him to keep, a slight smile began tugging at the corner of his lips. It never fully developed into a full smile before he stopped it. " I don't know a Matt" the boy spoke, suddenly more interested in Krys' words than his picture of his parents that he was drawing. A lot of what she said he could actually relate to. " Were you a bad girl too?" He asked carefully. The boy didn't realise that he never did anything wrong. He blamed himself as much as his parents did when they were mad, even though he never knew what he had done wrong.
"Krys..." The three year old repeated with a slight nod with his head. It felt a little easier to speak to her now than before, probably because she was slowly getting his interest.
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Post by Krys Robin on Oct 4, 2009 21:56:05 GMT -5
The boy's smile provided a little bit of relief as far as their correspondence was considered. Especially since earlier he had barely spoken to his savior (Derek Morgan) who had been the one to technically call in Krys anyways. So these few words and reactions were actually quite precious, especially if there was a viewer on the other side of the dark one way mirror made of plexi glass that was opposite the two individuals.
But now they were on the subject of a man Krys rather liked and felt comfortable speaking about. "Matt Grimaldi's another agent. A good one, just like Agent Morgan." Matthew had always been a protector of her and a good man. She trusted him with her life and looked up to him, much like one would a father. It was only natural for her to gravitate toward him when he discovered her, much like a baby duckling to a mother duck. Imprinting just naturally happened.
"Like Agent Morgan found you Agent Grimaldi found me." Well... There you have it. This was the first time she had ever so openly spoken about what had happened (outside of files) and though her voice was soft, at least it could be heard. "I was quite a bit older than you though." She added as a quick afterthought. She had been sixteen to her recollection. This boy was young, he still had a chance. Possibly a better one. Then again Krys had come from such a dark past and ended up as an agent, for a short while anyways, until it came crashing down (as indicated by the bandages on her wrists). No, this boy would have a better chance if she had anything to do with it.
When the little boy asked if she was a bad girl she stilled, actually briefly pondering the notion before she realized how stupid it was. Constantly she tried to tell herself that it wasn't her but her parents who failed. This was easier said than done of course. "No. I don't think so. Actually, a lot of the time I was a very good girl." She wasn't bragging, it was just a simple statement that she actually felt oddly uncomfortable making, mostly because it put her in a favorable light. "I didn't do anything to deserve what happened to me just like you don't for what happened to you." She was surprised she had said those words and she let them hang in the quiet. This was progress she hadn't intended on making with herself. Eerie.
When he said her name quietly she gave a single nod accompanied by another gentle smile. "Yep. That's right. What's your name?" She didn't know that he didn't have a name, she just assumed that he was too shy to tell Derek at the time.
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Post by matthew on Oct 6, 2009 16:02:39 GMT -5
The boy listened carefully to Krys while she spoke to him about Agent Grimaldi. In the boy's ears it sounded like Matt was a super hero of some sort. The one who had saved Krys from bad people. Even though he was only three he could tell bad people from good people. Since his parents was his parents, he thought they were good and did the right thing and that he deserved what they did to him. When Krys mentioned she was older than him when Agent Grimaldi had found her, the boy brought his hand up and started to count fingers on his right hand with his left. This indicated he was left-handed. "I'm three years old" He said, struggling to hold up only three fingers. To hold up one,two, four or five fingers was a piece of cake, but three, not as easy. With this said, he was trying to ask Krys how old she had been when they'd found her. He just didn't know how to formulate the words.
The three year old looked down when Krys started to tell him she wasn't a bad girl and that he hadn't been a bad boy. That he didn't deserve the awful things his parents did to him. This kind of information was too hard to take in for him (which is pretty normal in the beginning). It meant, changing on the way he saw on things. He started to fidget in his seat and his gaze moved back and forth between Krys and the table where all the well used crayons and papers lay. " I-I was too...a...a bad boy." He said, mostly trying to persuade himself. It was the only logical explaination for the parents behaviour to him, according to the boy.
To the question about his name he replied with silence. What was his name? He had no clue. He had been called so many things through the years that he didn't know what his real name was. Had he even been called by his real name, ever? The boy shook his head slightly before sighing heavily and picking up the crayon again. He continued colouring on the paper with his stickmen with round bodies and what looked like suns to hands. Somehow he found a certain peace in the colouring.
When he was done drawing this picture, which only took 10 seconds, he began on another one. This one he tried to write Krys's name on, but it was hard. Really hard. The letters didn't really look like letters and he even had the trouble sounding out which letter was which. Not having a parent or teacher who could help him, it wasn't all that strange. Instead of what was supposed to be Krys' name written on the paper, it was a bunch of disoriented lines. "This is for you" He said out of the blue, giving the paper to Krys, who he barely knew. She was the only one that had stayed with him for this long, and talked to him this much. All the other agents had switched off with each other because everyone had had something important to do, leaving him feeling alone and unwanted everywhere.
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Post by Krys Robin on Oct 6, 2009 23:02:35 GMT -5
"Three? Wow. I thought you might be twenty." She teased with a playful quirk of her eyebrow. She knew darn well that it was a terrible joke but she was trying as best as she could to lighten the mood and make the little boy feel safe. She knew all too well how awful the nights could be from firsthand experience. She knew how terrible it felt to be locked up in a dark room with not one face that you knew, and the ones that you did (like your parents) were scarier than the strangers that you knew. Really no offered alternative was any good.
Shifting a bit in her chair she bit down on her bottom lip carefully, for a moment hesitating. She knew that she had to share information in order to gain information, it was just difficult, even if this boy was only three. "I was sixteen when Matt found me." She phrased carefully, her voice hollow as her brown eyes focused on the tabletop. "He brought me into a room just like this one and told me I didn't deserve what happened to me, just like I'm telling you now. I didn't really believe it then either." A weak smile, somewhat uncomfortable, pulled at the right corner of her lips as her focus moved back to the little boy. "You'll get it one day though, even if it's years later. I wasn't a bad girl and never deserved what was done to me just like you don't deserve what happened to you. You are not a bad boy."
She fell silent for a long few moments until the boy offered her a picture. Bowing her head slightly in curiosity she reached out and took it quietly. "Thank you." She said simply in a soft voice before examining the work of art. To the untrained eye it was just a bunch of scribbles and meaningless lines, but to Krys this was a big deal. In fact, at first she didn't know how to respond.
Setting the picture on the tabletop in front of her she looked to each color, each line, admiring it, before finally she looked back up at the boy. "Can I take this with me when I go?" Even though it had been given her she still felt the need to ask for permission regardless, afterall, the boy had drawn it.
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Post by matthew on Oct 7, 2009 11:20:15 GMT -5
"Uh-huh" The boy nodded at Krys question if she could take the picture with her. "it's for you" He explained leaning across the table on his elbows. He pointed at some purple lines on the picture that was near Krys. " This is a K" He said proudly. " I-I wrote your name." Crawling back to his side of the table, he took leaned back satisfied in his share. For the first time he had felt like he had done something right. Krys seemed to like the drawing.
"No, I'm three" The boy said, showing Krys one of his rare and shy smile. "I'm not that old." He continued, hiding his smile behind the palms of his hands. It felt like something bubbly inside of him just wanted to get out in the from of giggles, but he felt insecure whether it was okay or not. To him, twenty years seemed like a whole life time. Basically, at that age your hair would bee gray, your skin wrinkled and you would have hair growing up your nose, according to the three year old.
The smile faded away after a few minutes and his face went back to normal to be him. No expression at all besides a little shyness maybe. When Krys told him she had been 16 when they had found her The boy's eyes opened wide but his gaze was at the table and not on Krys. "Wow" he whispered. As well as 20, 16 was quite a bog age for him. "Were you here too?" He asked, raising his gaze to Krys who was starring at the tabletop still.
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Post by Krys Robin on Oct 7, 2009 12:29:12 GMT -5
Krys' gaze followed the boy's finger to where he was pointing at the picture. He claimed they were letters but anyone with eye sight would know this to not be true. Be that as it may Krys was aware, from the files, that the boy had been locked away for most of his life and wasn't allowed to attend school. So, in this case it was an honest mistake and certainly not something that deserved chiding of any sort. He still had plenty of time to learn.
"Thank you very much." She repeated with a gentle smile before quietly reaching out for a crayon, only taking one when she felt like the boy wouldn't panic. "Want to see how I write my name?" She offered before turning her attention on the paper and writing out K-R-Y-S. Her handwriting wasn't the best, in fact since the 5th grade it had been exactly the same, but still she was trying to sneak some 'right' into the boy's life. Perhaps if he mimicked it he'd learn a few things and Krys could feel a bit better about this whole mess. Sliding the paper over to him with both hands she looked up gently. "See?"
The data analyst then mirrored the boy, leaning across the table on her own elbows. Her bandaged wrists now completely visible and up by her ears (her chin rested on the tabletop). Both individuals looked unbelievably similar despite the age and height difference. Both had similar past lifes. Perhaps for both of them it wouldn't be too late to right it. How odd, Krys found herself thinking, this is exactly what Matthew had done for her and it had worked, for a while anyways until everything came toppling down. She couldn't let it happen to this little boy. No. She would make him happy. She would see to it that he was alright and taken care of.
At his giggle Krys playfully blinked, mocking surprise. "I'm twenty two. Are you telling me I'm old?" A smile graced her features and a light shade of pink tinted her cheeks. Now this wasn't so bad. That was until he asked more questions about her past life and rescue. Swallowing, her smile faded, though she did her best to keep her voice from becoming too weighted.
"No. But I was in a room a lot like this one." She explained, glancing over her shoulder as she took in the entirety of the room. Every crack, nook, and cranny. "Agent Grimaldi brought me in here for what seemed like forever, but he stayed the entire time and made sure I was well taken care of." The memories were still surprisingly fresh. Some things you were never able to forget and suddenly Krys felt a strong urge of longing to see Matthew again. She hadn't seen him since before her suicide attempt. She actually thought he never wanted to see her again. Little did she know it was the exact opposite... For everyone. "And I'm going to do the same for you." She finished with a firm voice. Perhaps than fate would count her even.
"You're a very smart boy." She declared quietly, still trying not to spook him. "And smart boys deserve a name." She nodded simply, lifting her head off from the table and waving her finger slightly at him. "You know, you really look like Matt.. Though a bit more talkative." A flash of a teasing little smile in spite of herself and she leaned forward again as if swapping a secret with the little one. "How about for now we call you Matthew, until you find something else that you like better?"
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Post by matthew on Oct 9, 2009 13:56:07 GMT -5
The boy watched how Krys wrote her name in big letters on the piece of paper he had just given her. Comparing her writing the the writing he had done, he felt a little ashamed. His didn't even look slightly the same as hers. Maybe he had just imagined he wrote her name on that paper. This wasn't the first time he had failed at something. What he never thought of was that people have different hand writing and someday even his handwriting would be readable. " I wrote it wrong...sorry." He apologized with a slight pout as he lowered his head in shame. The head didn't stay lowered for very long, because when Krys asked him if he said she was old, he looked up a little confused. She couldn't possibly be 22 in the three year olds little distorted world. Staring at her for a few seconds he soon let out a weak insecure smile. "No." He thought she was kidding with him."You're not that old. You're 8" The boy decided shyly, speaking in a child's voice.
He started to get a little restless, a boy in that age couldn't sit still for too long and it had already been at least an hour. Not that the boy could tell time. Climbing down from the chair he started to walk about in the room. With each step he took he looked over his shoulder at Krys, as if he was looking for an approval from her. He still heard anything she said and he wouldn't do anything he wasn't allowed to do. The room didn't really look cosy. Maybe it was better than the closet he had been looked inside for hours, though. The walls were dark and on one of the walls was a long mirrow like window. No, it was a mirror (though it's really a window). Deciding he had explored enough, the boy walked back to his chair at the table. He didn't climb up on it but stood beside it, his hand resting loosely on the tabletop, eyes on krys who was leaning across the table like he had done a few minutes before while showing Krys the picture.
When Krys asked him about the name Matthew his face lit up. Was krys going to name him after the hero that saved him. Matt was a superhero in the three year olds imagination, with super powers. He nodded is head at the offer. Matthew was a good name, he thought. Maybe one day he would be a superhero too.
There was only one thing that bothered little Matt. He didn't want Krys to leave. He knew she would eventually leave him, as soon as she had seen to it that he was well taken care of, she had said. He really liked this woman. She was nice to him and it didn't feel awkward talking to her. Crawling under the table to Krys side, he stopped beside Krys' chair, not really daring to cling onto her, since he was afraid she would reject him. "I don't want you to leave." He whispered out of the blue, without they even having talked about her leaving just yet.
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Post by Krys Robin on Oct 9, 2009 14:10:28 GMT -5
When he apologized Krys noticably frowned. Not like she was disappointed, she could just see herself so clearly in this little boy. The self blame, the doubt, the guilt. Is this really how she appeared to everyone else around her? She wasn't sure she liked that idea. She didn't want to look helpless, weak. She didn't want to hurt. Most of all she didn't want that to happen to the little boy in this room.
"Nothing to say sorry for. You didn't do anything wrong. I'll tell you what Matt once told me. There isn't any such thing as wrong, just happy accidents." Absent mindedly she thought back on that day with a little twinge of a smile. Had Matthew really said that? She couldn't picture it now. It seemed silly. Somehow she just couldn't picture grumpy ole Matthew Grimaldi uttering those words. But he most certainly had, at one time in her life. Imagine that. "In fact- I like your version better." She offered with a little smile before directing her gaze down at the drawing, admiring it once again. It was made from his heart and that made it worth more than anything that she had come across.
When he announced that she was eight she couldn't help but smile. "No. Not eight. I'm twenty two. I promise. I've been around a while." Ah the mind of a child. Krys hadn't posessed one ever in her life, that she could recall. It had been brutally ripped from her. She seeked out comfort in facts and because of that she had always been rather intellectual as far as most things were concerned.
Now her eyes followed the little boy as he practically beamed with news of the temporary name. Matthew. So it would be. That would certainly make speaking to him a great deal easier. "Right then. Matthew it is." But as soon as the joy sunk in with little Matt he was now frowning. Krys couldn't help but incline her head at him in question. What was wrong? Did he not like the name now? He crawled under the table and popped up right at her side, gently she looked to him and heard his words.
He didn't want her to leave. Her shoulders and gut suddenly felt heavy but she made herself swallow with a heavy sigh. She had certainly not been expecting this. Glancing over her shoulder with a sickly sort of look toward the one way mirror she made a bit of a begging face. She knew that Derek Morgan was on the other end and maybe he could come in and fix this. He had a heart. In some ways Derek had the biggest heart of them all.
Slowly she turned back to look at little Matthew. She knew that she had to choose her words carefully. "I have to eventually. I technically don't work here anymore." Her hands tensed in her lap, the bandages ever present against her wrists. "If I stay long that'll mean mountains of paperwork and I could get into trouble.." Or bump into Spencer. There was a sadness in her eyes as she looked at Matthew, she knew that she couldn't reject him. Matthew Grimaldi had put so much on the line for her, she would do that for this boy. Or try to, to the best of her ability.
"I can for a little while..."
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Derek Morgan
Full Member
BAU Profiler
Stealin' yer jello.
Posts: 108
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Post by Derek Morgan on Oct 11, 2009 0:47:18 GMT -5
Morgan & Hayley Though succsessful, this was one of the longest days in Derek Morgan's life. And really, how did you measure succsess? He'd found the child and saved him from the abuse, but how far had the abuse seeped? How long would it take to get him out of that frame of mind, if they even could? Was it even possible? He didn't know anymore, but watching silently through the double mirror, he was sure of one thing: Krys Robin was making progress.
For awhile, he'd stood alone in the viewing room, watching the two interact, but moments before Hayley had opened the door and stepped in as well to join him. The two had become friends since Krys' attempted suicide - natural since he'd had to talk to her so often. And though he was sure that the woman would sooner kick him into tuesday for it, he protected her, even though she didn't need protecting - like much of the women he'd met that were in this field.
"She's making progress." He commented briefly, not taking his eyes off of the wall. "I wasn't sure that she was - not on her part of course, but on his - but she's getting through." Not only was the child taking well to her, but he'd come close to her and didn't want her to leave (which could present itself in a problem later, but they'd deal with that ship when it sailed) but she'd even given him a temporary name. He should have warned the former analyst of that - the child didn't have a name. He felt his blood boil at that. The conditions that he'd been living under - nobody deserved them, he didn't care what they had done, and this child had done nothing. He grit his teeth. "Yeah, well, that's our Krys." Hayley commented, watching the proceeding as well. She felt bad for tricking her friend, but she could see that it had been the right thing to do. Not only was Krys here - but this kid, who she hadn't honestly thought was going to respond, was responding. It had taken her longer than this kid once she'd gotten out of the basement where she'd been held. She stole a quick glance at Morgan, and shook her head, bemused. It was odd, the two had struck up a friendship -she and a guy, nevertheless, when she didn't trust men for more than five seconds flat. But, if she could entertain the notion - and when she did, she always smiled - it felt as if they were inlaws. She knew that the profiler considered Reid to be a younger brother, and while right now, Krys and Reid weren't near each other, the two of them were in love. Hayley had never seen the look before, but on the first sight of those two together, she knew that was what it looked like. Her Krys and his Spencer. It sort of made them inlawish, if you wanted to look at it that way, and for the purpose of taking her mind off of more pressing, horrific matters, she did. "I'm going in there, Chez. If she's ever going to leave that room, he needs someone else to attatch to." He nodded at her before exiting the viewing room and entering the interrogation room.
He flashed a smile at Krys upon entering, kneeling down at the side of the table and resting his arms on it.
"Hey little man, you met my friend Krys, huh?"
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