Memoir

Chapter 13: I See You

. . . . .

What was wrong with him?

Sam paced the main floor of his parents' place. He'd kept it, of course. It was the one place he'd always felt like everyone would respect him, where he was never a loser and his word was law.

His word was law.

He was the best.

He was the smartest, the fastest, the most important. His parents could see that. His family saw that. And he'd figured, when he ran into Mervin so many years after high school, that Mervin see it too. But Mervin had barely given him the time of day.

He was off to meet Amanda, or maybe it was Nelson. Sam couldn't remember. Sam didn't care.

What he cared about was the fact that they still ignored him. Amanda and Nelson hadn't even recognized him when he'd followed Mervin to the coffee shop. He wasn't even sure how the hell he'd managed to walk out of that store, but he had.

And found Mervin later.

It had felt phenomenal. He hadn't anticipated that part. The feeling of the knife sliding into skin, seeing the shock, feeling the thrill of power, hearing them beg him. He held their lives in his hands and they noticed him then.

Oh had they ever.

So he'd found Bryce, found Mrs. Bryers and had extended that intoxicating feeling of power. He'd expected the same with Amy. The thrill, the drive, but the thought of taking the knife upstairs and sliding it into her flesh, didn't seem to hold the same appeal. He didn't want to.

But… He needed it.

He'd been held down too long. He was going to rule. He was going to prove it to all of them, that he was the one on top. He would always be on top.

He grabbed the knife, his knuckles white. She was tied to his childhood bed, her face red. She hadn't once screamed. She'd cried and cried, silent tears, maybe the odd sniffle. When she saw the knife the tears fell again, but she didn't struggle. She didn't fight. Maybe it was the gag? It had muffled the sobs – he hadn't wanted to risk her biding her time and screaming to wake the neighbours – so maybe? He settled the knife on her stomach and reached with surprisingly gentle hands to undo the gag.

"Why are you doing this?"

Her first words, whispered. No begging, no screaming. No fighting.

"Because no one sees me," he growled. It wouldn't matter if he told her. It never mattered. None of them cared.

She hiccupped. "What do you mean?"

He didn't have to answer, but Amy didn't look like the others. She didn't immediately swear that she saw him, that she always saw him. There was no pity, nothing negative. Curiosity, fear, but none of the sobbing entitlement that had spilled from Mervin's mouth. Nor Amanda, or Nelson's.

"They don't see me. Nobody sees me." He pushed himself off the bed, paced to the door and back again. "Nobody sees how good I am, how smart I am."

"Sam, who are you talking about?"

"All of them!" he yelled. "Mervin and Amanda and Nelson-"

"They were murdered," Amy breathed. "Sam, did you kill them?"

"I had to! I didn't exist to them!"

Amy stayed quiet as he prowled the floor, like she understood he needed a moment. She sucked in a breath after a few moments. "I see you, Sam."

His eyes fly to hers.

"Of course I see you," she went on. "I- I picked you, didn't I? We met on a dating site and I'm not trying to make you angry, Sam, but there were others. I picked you."

He stepped closer. "There were others."

"Other matches. Other messages. But-" She tried to shrug. The ropes kept her in place. "I didn't-"

Sam settled on the bed, reaching for her. "You-"

Amy dropped her head back to the pillow. He'd been at least that generous. "There are a lot of creepy people on the internet. I-" Her eyes closed. "I've been there. I-I've been dating for a while. But you- You sent me sweet messages, said nice things. And you never pushed, you know? I never felt like a- Like a thing. I was always a person."

Everything he had never been.

"I picked you because I wanted to. Because I liked what little I knew. I wanted to know more." Tears come to her eyes again. "Not this. I didn't want to know this."

"Think she's alive?"

Hotch looked over to where Emily was adjusting the Velcro on her vest. He liked that image. She looked strong, resilient, gun at her hip. Ready to take on the world.

And win.

"Hotch?"

"I don't know, Prentiss," he answers.

Her mouth was pressed in a thin line, determination written all over her face. It's a look mirrored on JJ's face, when she steps up beside them, Rossi not far behind.

"What's the plan?"

Hotch darted his gaze to the NYPD detectives arching his eyebrows at the writer's vest.

"Place has a front and side entrance," Derek said as he jogged up. They're hiding around the corner, aware that they're either walking in on a crime scene or a live victim. They're taking a chance with their element of surprise.

"One team in the front, one in the rear. Two teams in," Hotch fixed his eyes on Castle. "You stay outside."

The writer didn't even make a sound, just nodded solemnly.

"If Lowlands is in there, he's armed and dangerous." He didn't have to say it. He did anyway. "Let's bring Amy home."

Because they all had to go in optimistic.

"Rossi, Reid, rear perimeter. Detectives, back entrance. JJ-"

"Detective Ryan, want to keep me company?"

Ryan flashed a grin. He even went as far to offer his elbow. "It would be my pleasure, Agent Jareau."

JJ met Detective Beckett's eyes. "We'll keep him safe."

The detective nodded, checked her safety and turned to Esposito.

"We're wasting time."

Rossi mirrored her movements. "Let's do this."

Finally, Hotch turned to Emily. "With me."

"Always," she said with a nod.

He wasn't reading into that. Damn Rossi and his mind games.

They lined up and Hotch counted them down. Then they were in. He felt Emily at his back, felt the moment they split to clear the kitchen. He hadn't really noticed it before, the way she just seemed attuned to him. She moved with him when he barely glanced back at her, her steps echoing his.

They met Detectives Beckett and Esposito at the bottom of the stairs. With a simultaneous shake of their heads, they all turned to the stairs. Hotch went first, because he always did. The hallway was dark, the only light sliding out from a door half way down the hall. They split again, clearing the hall before returning to the sliver of light.

What they found inside was not at all what any of them could have expected.

Amy was completely fine, her arms wrapped around the man beside her. She looked tearstained, but otherwise okay, looking at them with anguished eyes.

"Sam," Amy said quietly.

He looked up and Hotch adjusted his grip on his gun, even as he felt Emily holster hers.

"Amy, you're okay?" Emily asked, slipping around him. He barely blinked.

"Fine," Amy sniffled. "Sam-"

Hotch watched the man's hands clench tightly on Amy's hip. His grip adjusted on his gun.

"Sam, you promised," Amy said quietly, just for Sam.

Hotch shifted, widening his stance, feeling the NYPD do the same behind him.

Sam stood, still gripping Amy's hand. Hotch watched him swallow before he released Amy and held out his hands. Emily glanced back at him, confusion plain on her face. He didn't get it either. "Detective?"

Emily rushed to Amy's side as Beckett and Esposito secured Lowlands in handcuffs. She sniffled as she gripped Emily's sweater. Hotch holstered his gun.

"Wait," Amy sobbed, letting go of Emily's vest when everyone turned to her. She stepped forward, right up to Sam. Her hands rose to his face.

"I see you," she whispered. "I see you, Sam."

As Beckett and Esposito led Sam away, Amy turned to Emily and Hotch.

"It was all he wanted," she said to them. "He just – He just wanted someone to see him. Was that so hard?"

Hotch glanced to Emily, he couldn't help it. No, he thought. It wasn't so hard. To see and be seen.

And Dave had opened his eyes to both.

Just the epilogue! And that's not written at all so… we all know what that means!

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