Chapter 31: Going home
I don't know if you can see
The changes that have come over me
In these last few days I've been afraid
That I might drift away
I've been telling old stories, singing songs
That make me think about where I've come from
That's the reason why I seem
So far away today
Let me tell you that I love you
That I think about you all the time
Caledonia, you're calling me, now I'm going home
But if I should become a stranger
Know that it would make me more than sad
Caledonia's been everything I've ever had
Caledonia - Celtic Woman
Epilogue
How do you define redemption? Or how can we recognize it when we have it right before our eyes?
The series of unfortunate events that led my path to cross with Moni's was filled with potholes, stones, pain and detours.
Neither of us is naïve anymore, at least not as much as we were before.
Life has been unkind in its dealings with Moni, putting her through hell, brimstone and fire. Yet, as I sit here beside her in the jet, watching her making caricatures of each of us on the team, I can't help but be amazed at how she still managed to protect the tiny bit of her soul which still holds that childlike wonder I can clearly see when I look into her eyes.
My life as profiler has exposed me to the worst mankind can offer. My experiences with Dilaudil have also shown me the worst facets hidden within me- my own Dr. Jekyll to my Mr. Hyde. Yet it's a fascinating experience to see myself through her eyes.
An experience that I wish won't ever end.
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A faint trail of mist covered the night as a Black SUV rolled silently down the gravel lane in the storage center. It stopped in front of huge metal doors marked with the number 45.
"Is this the right one?" Prentiss checked at the block numbers painted on metal.
"According to Garcia, three storage units have been in under one of Declercq's several aliases for the last fifteen years: locker 45, 46 and 47." said Rossi, looking at his small notebook in his hand.
"There's only one way to be sure," Hotch said, turning the car off and opening the door. Rossi and Prentiss followed his lead, walking towards the door with their flashlights, eager to explore its contents.
Hotch checked the padlock on the door- locked. Rossi returned to the car to grab his tool bag.
Seconds later, Hotch had dismantled the padlock with bolt cutters, and both he and Rossi had managed to get the heavy doors open. Inside the storage unit, several shapes jutted out from under white sheets.
"It's too dark in here," Rossi complained, trying to find his way inside the locker.
"I think I found the light switch," Hotch called to them. He threw the switch, illuminating the unit in pale halogen lights.
"Oh, my …" Prentiss looked around flabbergasted. Rossi shook his head in astonishment.
"It's no surprise that Declercq said that she was his retirement plan," Hotch mumbled, staring at the huge painted panel to his left, depicting two girls in a forest, the light slowly filtering through the trees.
Rows upon rows of paintings, each in delicate protective diaphanous cloth, were positioned one beside the other. Here and there, the paintings were interposed with sculpted figures. Tiny, delicate figures sat next to huge, dark and emotional pieces. A wide range of materials had been used: wood, bronze, stone and...
"Is this marble?" Prentiss asked. Her eyes fixed on the amazing statue of a girl angel. Her long curly hair was carefully braided, the face was a perfect representation of sadness. Her wings were lightly unfurled, showing in the stone the delicate texture of their features- showing the amazing ability of the sculptor.
"Carrara marble, Italian. Each square meter costs a small fortune," Rossi informed. His eyes were centered on an amazing tromp'd'oiel figure of a fairy smiling saucily, sitting on a white rose. Her green eyes taunted the person looking at the painting. Her wings were a precise rainbow of colors, dotted with water drops.
"How many paintings do you think we have here?"
"I'm guessing hundreds," Prentiss said as she illuminated an oil portrait of an old decrepit man sitting on the floor, his hand outstretched towards the person outside of frame - asking for money.
"We have to check the other storage lockers. See if their content match this one, and make some calls to arrange to have all of this cataloged and moved into a safer place." Hotch picked up a small statue done in rosewood. It portrayed in detail a baby wrapped in cloth, each curve precise and unique in the polished wood.
"We will need to call a curator of a museum. The contents of this room alone is enough for a whole wing at the Smithsonian." Rossi touched the hand of a bronze statue, its eyes closed in ecstasy.
"We still have to check the other lockers." He picked up his phone, starting to call Garcia. "Go."
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Several days later, on a bright morning with just a little chill in the air, two black SUVs slowly rolled towards the Learjet on the tarmac. Its access was lowered, just waiting for the passengers to arrive.
Once the SUVs stopped, Hotch helped Morgan out of the first SUV and they made their way to the airplane, along with Prentiss and JJ. Rossi and Reid helped Moni out of the second van.
"We're going to DC by plane?" Moni asked Reid as he snaked his arm around her waist. They could have just as easily got a wheelchair for her, but then he wouldn't be able to hold her close to his side everywhere they went, and Moni was insistent on walking- as much as she could- anyway.
"Yep, you will enjoy it. It even has a sofa in it."
"Really?"
They slowly climbed the steps of the jet together. Once inside, Morgan sat relieved in his usual, comfortable seat while Reid and Rossi helped Moni to the sofa. Moni couldn't help but whimper as she tried to sit down. Her still healing wounds stretch a little, making her take deep breaths until the pain receded.
"Do you need anything? Maybe some painkillers or …"
"I'm fine, Reid. Stop hovering."
Hotch grinned at how comfortable the two were with each other.
Everyone took their usual seats- Reid next to Moni- and got ready for takeoff. He smiled nervously at Moni as she looked around the jet, trying to capture all its details.
"It's a short flight home. Once there, I want to introduce you to Garcia."
"Who is Garcia?"
"She's the most beautiful girl you will ever meet." Morgan said with a dramatic sigh.
"Really?" That piques Moni's interest.
"Wanna know why Garcia is so beautiful?"
Moni quirks an eyebrow rather than answer Reid's question.
"Garcia is so pretty because her beauty isn't confined to her exterior. She is beautiful inside and out."
Moni found herself charmed by the reverence in Reid's voice when talking about his friend in DC.
"Is she one of the shiny people?"
"Shiny people?" Rossi poked his head out from behind the row of seats. "What's that?"
"Not what, who." Moni sighed in what she now considered a Morgan fashion and leaned back on the sofa, hugging one of the pillows to her chest. "Shiny people are those who, whenever they enter a room, bring light with them. It doesn't matter if you are down or sad, they can always cheer you up. If you are hurt, they console you. If you are sad, they do everything in their power to make you happy again. If you are in darkness, they bring light. That's why they are the shiny people."
Reid leans his head back also. He and Moni's head turned to face each other, making their foreheads touch. Reid rubbed his nose against hers, saying, "Yeah, she's one of the shiny people."
Moni closed her eyes, focusing on this feeling - this completeness, this happiness - that seemed to revolve around her life now. She needed a way to process it all.
"May I have my drawing notebook?"
Reid opened his eyes, which had drifted shut shortly after Moni's, and leaned over to grab his backpack. He had stuffed some of her hard and soft pencils, as well one of the many notebooks they'd found in Moni's place in there. She nibbled at her lower lip while turning to a blank page in her notebook.
So this is the process, Reid pondered. She was so captivating, the way her delicate wrist compensated for each stroke and her hand hovered, never pressing down on the paper. She frequently cast wicked glances at him, making Reid think that she was doing another one of her "Smiling Reid" drawings.
He could only hope.
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William Black once said that "Innocence dwells in wisdom, never with ignorance."
During the years, Moni fiercely protected her innocence: absorbing the world around her, exposing her feelings and thoughts through her paintings. And despite all the ugliness she endured, she was still able to find beauty in the most dire situations.
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"Here is your drawing, Hotch," Moni ripped a sheet from her notebook and handed it to Reid. He chuckled at it before passing it to Hotch.
"Let me see it," JJ leaned over, curious as to how Moni would represent their leader. She had already made caricatures from Rossi, Prentiss and JJ, each very accurate and funny.
JJ giggled at the sketch of Hotch with a cowboy hat on and leather pants, gun in hand, and firing shots in all directions.
"That's awesome."
"I'm not a cowboy," Hotch protested, frowning at the drawing.
"Of course you are, you always catch the bad guys. So you're a cowboy."
"She's right, Hotch. I think she hit the nail on the head." Prentiss teased while looking at her Queen of Hearts drawing. In it, her dark hair was a sharp contrast to her beautiful white dress with several hearts embroidered on it..
"How are you going to draw me, kid?" Morgan asked from his chair, his legs propped up on some pillows.
She glances thoughtfully at him, measuring him up and down. "Would you pose naked for me? I want to draw you au naturel."
"What?" Reid shrieked, outraged.
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Jean Baudrillard also has a saying, "There is no aphrodisiac like innocence."
He was right, so right.
- the end-
a/n: Yes, this is over. Now we will play with the next story. Will Reid and Moni live happily ever after? Will Moni adapt to DC? What if?
Many questions will pop out.
My thanks for my amazing reviewers and readers, who made this story my most read story ever in one single day! Thanks thanks. You rock!
And for Kalia, you're simply the best.