Chapter 12

Cat cut her sandwiches into triangles. He wasn't really sure why, but that detail stood out. Maybe it was the only real thing he knew about her. She cut the second sandwich on the cutting board and glanced up at Spencer. "Plates?" She asked softly. He pointed to a cupboard over the stove. She reached up the open it, then gasped and dropped her arm down, clutching at her side. "Fuck." She sunk to the ground and Spencer stood, moving quickly around the counter to kneel next to her.

"Ripped the stiches." She hissed out softly.

"Stiches?" Without stopping to question why, he lifted the hem of the shirt to see the cut. It was still covered in gauze, but some of the tap had peeled away and he could see a white plastic thread zigzagging through her skin to hold it together. "When did you…"

"I found a needle. Used some of your floss. Sorry. You didn't have a suture kit in your bathroom, and I didn't want to wake you up." She said it casually but he could tell there was something else she was trying to say. She paused, then looked him directly in the eyes. "Thank you. For not letting me die, I mean." Her voice cracked and she looked away. He noticed how small she looked in his clothes. She was tall, but so skinny she was drowning in them. She couldn't have been all that healthy before getting shot.

He sighed and stood. "Stay there." He kept an emergency medical bag in the hallway closet behind some old books. He dug around and pulled it out, bringing it back to the kitchen. Cat was still on the floor, holding the gauze against the cut. "I've never really used this…" He set the bag next to her, and she dug through it with one hand.

"Here." She pulled out a small plastic box and handed it to Spencer. Inside were about twenty small clear bags with curved needles and black thread in them. He looked at her, unsure of what to do. "It was hard enough doing this with one hand this first time." She spoke slowly, as if choosing her words carefully. "Would you be able to…" She trailed off, not looking at him.

He sat down next to her. "I don't really know how to use these."

"It's not too hard. Just make sure you get both sides of the skin, somewhat deep down." She pulled out the floss that had broken until the wound was wide open again. "And when if it hurts me, consider it vengeance for Garcia." She tried to keep her voice light, but her eyes were nervous.

He wasn't sure how to respond. He felt like she had been trying to make a joke, but it felt too real to both of them. He tore open the first package. He held the needle carefully and held her skin steady with this other hand. He could feel her whole body tensing, anticipating the pain. As the first needle went in, he heard her grit her teeth. "Tie a knot, not too tightly, and cut off the needle." He glanced up at her face. Her eyes were closed tight. He hurried and tied the knot.

"How many more?"

She glanced down at the cut. "At least ten." Her head pressed back against the cupboard and she closed her eyes again.

With each stitch, Spencer was feeling more and more confused. Cat was a monster, but she was also letting him cause her immense pain. Based on the type of person she was, he knew that letting someone touch her was a rare feat in Cat's world. She was someone who thrived on always being in control, but right now, she was completely at Spencer's mercy. He cut off the last needle and carefully ran a finger over the skin next to the cut. He looked up and realized her eyes were open and she was watching him carefully. They sat like that, looking at each other, for what felt like an eternity.

"I think you'll have to get the plates out." Cat broke the silence, still watching him closely. Relieved, Spencer stood and offered a hand to her. She looked at his hand, then up at him, raising a brow in surprise. "Force of habit?" She asked softly, not taking it. As he lowered his hand back to his side, she'd turned to put the box back into the medicine bag.

The grilled cheeses were cold by the time they'd started eating, but Spencer didn't care. He was glad to have something to focus on. They were sitting in the living room on opposite ends of the couch.

Cat put her plate down on the coffee table and turned to face him. "The Chemist."

He lowered the sandwich from his mouth. "What?"

"She's the one who shot me." Pause. "The bullets are a special design she's been working on. They're coated in an acid that will start to dissolve your organs, if the shot goes deep enough." Another pause. "She missed."

Cat ran her hand against the top of the couch, like she was examining the cushions. "She figured out I had told someone about Zach. No one else could have done it. It was only a matter of time." She brought her hand back down to her lap and looked at it. "I never should have gone back. I was trying to get a file from them."

She bit her lip and paused, then slowly raised her head. "They're planning something big." Another pause. "Look, I know you have no reason to trust me, and this is just going to confirm your thoughts about me. I became a contract killer because it was the only thing I was good at. When I started this, I was young, and stuck in a life I hated. I didn't know how to get out of it."

She stopped again and looked down at her hands, taking a shaky breath. "I'm not telling you this as an excuse. I just want you to understand. I didn't see another way out. A man approached me one night in a bar and offered me $1,000 to put a pill in a woman's drink. I knew it wasn't right, but I was desperate for money, so I did it. She fell off the barstool within seconds, and turned purple… She was dead before anyone could call 911. I left through the back into the alley that night, and the man was there. He offered me a place to stay, and told me I could have a new life if I followed him. So I did.

"He trained me. He was the person who taught me how to use a gun. He taught me how to hide your feelings and use people's emotions against them. He was like a father to me for over a year. Then one day, I woke up, and he was gone. He'd left me half a million dollars in cash, a gun, and the Snowman's contact information. I didn't see him again until about 4 months ago, when he had the Snowman call all of us together.

"He has a plan. It's elaborate, and I'm positive he only told us the bare minimum, so even I can't tell you the details. But my job was to ensure you thought he and the Chemist were dead. He wanted the FBI to think that until he was ready for the next phase. That's why I met with you that night. The Bomber was supposed to kill everyone in that building as soon as I left, but it didn't feel right. When I first got to the bar, I found the bomb and disconnected part of it, so if it did go off, it wouldn't hurt anyone unless they were right next to it."

Cat stopped and looked at Spencer carefully, her face slumping in exhaustion. "He says he's going to take down the heads of the government."

Spencer was trying to process her story. "So… you were trying to give me clues to, what, help take down the network?"

She shook her head slowly. "I don't care about the network. But I do care about innocent lives. Everyone I've taken a contract on deserved to die. The way our world works, justice doesn't always prevail, so people have to take it into their own hands. Or, you know, give me money to put it into my hands." Spencer opened his mouth to ask what she meant, but she held up a hand. "Look. I told you about Zach so you could get to the Chemist. She's the weakest link right now. I'll tell you everything I know about the four of them, but you need to promise me something."

Spencer frowned. "I won't promise to not arrest you."

Cat smiled softly. "I know. You are one of the good guys. I knew it as soon as I met you. I want you to promise me," she paused for a second, as if reconsidering her words. "I want you to promise me that you'll live through this, and that you'll take care of your mom."

"That's really what you want me to promise?" Spencer couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice.

Cat let out a soft laugh. "No… I want…" Her voice trailed off, and the smile left her face. She touched her side, tracing the shirt around the cut, a slight frown gracing her lips. "I want to help you. I wanted you to promise you'd trust me. But I can't ask you for that." She stood up and gave a small shrug. "Wake me up when you are ready to bring me in." She turned and walked to his bedroom, her footsteps making the floor creak softly.

Spencer stared after her for a long time after she'd left. It could all be a trick, he reminded himself. It didn't feel like one though. Cat almost died tonight. That was real. And she'd gotten shot because she'd tried to help him figure out…something… He still wasn't sure what she'd meant by 'take down the heads of the government.' He rose to his feet and walked into the bedroom to ask her. The hallway spilled a bit of light into the dark room, enough to see her body curled up on top of his bed covers, dead asleep.

Later, he would blame it on sleep deprivation, or on maybe adrenaline finally wearing off from the longest day of his life... Had it really been that morning they'd found the townhouse? He pulled an extra blanket out of his closet and covered her with it. Then he sat down on the bed next to her and pushed her hair out of her face.

He'd meant to just sit for a moment, but his body felt heavy from lack of sleep and the weight of all the new questions he had. He glanced at his watch. 5am. The sun would be rising soon. He'd bring her in to the FBI then. Without consciously thinking about it, his legs stretched out and his head hit the pillow, falling into a heavy, dreamless sleep.