Dancing In The Morgue - Chapter 9

A quiet mind cureth all.
- Robert Burton

Spencer Reid sat on the Hotel room's brown leather couch and enjoyed his music. He liked classical music more than any other type of music. His favorites were the old sonatas of Beethoven, Mozart, Chopin... Although respectful of others' opinions, he still thought, deep inside his soul, thatmodern day pop music is nothing but trash. He despised anything that sounded more like noise other than actual music. To him, that music they play in night clubs, that's not music at all, that's a jungle of sick sounds that don't make any sense, they don't fit together and they're not harmonic. That was one of the reasons why Spencer Reid couldn't get a date. He wasn't fond of the bar scene, let alone the night club scene. He didn't enjoy the savage grinding of sweaty horny bodies against each other, the vivid loud noise of music, people's voices, drinks pouring; the smell of smoke from cigarettes and sweat from a crowd of teenagers and young adults searching for a sexual companion for never more than one, one single night of pleasure with no strings attached and no further communication other than the usual pick-up lines (very cheap, in Spencer's opinion) and later, orgasm vociferations. Spencer found all of those social rituals highly useless, from an intellectual point of view. Social interaction is a part of the human behavior and it's needed in certain amounts, in order to keep human beings mentally stable; however I don't think clubbing is a good example of a social ritual that brings stability to one's mind. I quite personally prefer a good conversation with someone fairly educated on the subjects of Literature, Music and just general culture, someone who, even if not as intellectually gifted as I am, can keep a nice talk going on for a while and is able to talk about something other than mere superficial topics...

Spencer sat on the brown leather couch and, whilst enjoying Beethove'sMoonlight Sonata, one of his favorite songs, he grabbed a book that lied in the small coffee table between his couch and his television. He didn't enjoy TV that much, but some shows on National Geographic sometimes caught his eye. Other than that, he would usually only watch anything from his collection of DVDs, which included the likes of old horror movies, specifically those who featured the ever-so-strong presence of Mr. Vincent Price himself.

Working on his BA in Philosophy, he was currently enjoying a more exciting variety of books, not as technical as the ones he was used to reading. He found Philosophy very intriguing, as it was neither logical nor rational, most of the times. Philosopher's activity is based on human thinking, revealing its mysteries and understand the human condition from within, if that makes sense.

Spencer glanced at his iPhone, resting on the coffee table. It was the work phone, Spencer would have never purchased it for personal usage. He remembered he had Emily Bronson's personal number saved in there, as part of his important contacts list. Important for work purposes, at least.

He thought about whether he should give her a call, on a completely professional note, asking her if she needed any help for well, anything. Anything relevant for his work an FBI agent. Anything she could possibly need, as long as it was relevant to him as an FBI agent, of course, like protection. Yes, she could use some protection, mostly from herself and her own destructive thoughts. Other than that, she wasn't under any threat against her personal security.

He glanced at the phone one more time, not sure whether he should make the call or not. He decided not to. He decided he would wait for Hotch or any other member of his team to bring the subject of Emily Bronson up. He decided he would stop himself from those feelings that were inexplicably invading him. Spencer Reid, a genius with an IQ of one hundred and eighty seven points, an eidetic memory, capable of reading twenty thousand words per minute; he who held doctorates in Chemistry, Engineering and Mathematics, as well as BAs in Psychology and Sociology. Him, of all people, could not be diminished by feelings like those of love and infatuation over someone he barely knew. Over someone who appeared to be much younger than himself and, especially, over a witness on a case of brutal homicide.

He knew, though, that if Emily wasn't the one person in the world who could truly understand him, no one would ever do. She didn't seem to have a high IQ, much less an ability to read five books every day or appreciate classical music. Still, she understood darkness better than anyone Reid has ever come across. He found himself accidentally profiling her. Not a professional profile, though. More like a personal profile to keep to himself and himself only, not to share with the entire team. He found Emily the less educated version of himself, yes, but driven by emotions rather than logical thinking.

I wonder what the world is like from an emotional person's point of view...



It was a quiet night in West Long Branch, New Jersey. The BAU team was staying in a four-star Hotel, each one was assigned a room on the third floor of the building. While Derek Morgan decided to spend his night off having fun and dragging JJ along with Prentiss to a nice little bar a couple of blocks away from the Hotel, Aaron Hotchner kept looking at the files from both Katheryn Bronson and Martha Wisener's cases. He didn't believe Kayan Gomes had done it and he thought they were bound to find more bodies stabbed repeatedly the way those women were. He believed that there were more cases like those, they were just hiding.

Where are you, stabbed ladies? he asked himself.

The funny thing about the media: they only emphasize what they want to emphasize. If a serial killer is smart enough, he won't leave the bodies of his victims in their own kitchen for their kids to find. Those two bodies were left there because the killer wanted the FBI to see them there, to make the Bureau think Gomes was to blame. What a smart move...

With this realization, Hotch knew the team was one step closer to having a good, not vague profile of the killer, indispensable in order to catch the killer.

He was going to present his theory to the team the very next morning. Reid would have figured it out, if he wasn't so absorbed in his thoughts about Emily Bronson and the way he should stop himself from the feelings he had towards her. Derek would have figured it out, as well, maybe not as fast as Reid or Hotch, but he would.

Aaron Hotchner smiled to himself and then prepared to take a late-night shower and go to sleep.

Tomorrow is going to be another long day.