"So, do you regret it?"
He didn't quite understand why Rossi was so insistent on this question. "Maybe," Bruce felt someone's gaze on him and said, "… Yes."
But he immediately felt uncomfortable. For a long time in the past, he might have been careless about life, or he might have pretended to be optimistic, or he might have appeared indifferent. But no matter what he was facing, he had always been firm and impeccable. This kind of emotion, like admitting some kind of weakness, was something he would never show.
"It's not the kind of regret you think it is …" Bruce said a little hurriedly, but he didn't know how to express it, nor did he intend to express his complicated feelings. He simply looked out of the window without saying a word, as if something had aroused his great interest.
Rossi glanced at the street outside the window that was even quieter because of the flashing police lights, and then looked at Bruce's uncomfortable expression and asked, "It's not the kind of regret we think it is? Based on your previous behavior, you mean you won't be touched by what happened to these people? "
Bruce didn't say anything. Rossi's attitude of wanting to talk to him made him feel a little troubled. Of course, he could turn around and leave, but … he sighed helplessly in his heart. He felt that his answer just now was stupid.
"But you said you regret it." Rossi saw Bruce's reflection in the window. At this time, Bruce was expressionless, but he still stood there and didn't leave or refuse, indicating that he was still willing to say something. "Sometimes I feel a little strange. You are willing to establish contact with us, but you are very indifferent in some places. Why is that?"
Bruce finally moved his gaze back and looked at Rossi. "I just … let you see the real me from the beginning."
"So you said you regret it not because of the victims, but because of us?"
Although Rossi's words were a little vague, Bruce immediately understood that Rossi understood what he regretted.
These extremely sharp and observant profilers. Bruce sighed in his heart. His eyes drifted, and he awkwardly changed the topic. He pointed at the red numbers painted with blood on the car window. "These numbers, they seem familiar." He almost awkwardly got out of the car and pretended to look at the numbers.
Rossi looked at Bruce's back and said to Hotch, who had been silent since the beginning, "Although we don't do profiling each other, sometimes our thoughts are out of our control." He shrugged and said with a smile, "I can almost say that I'm ready to publish profiling now."
Hotch pursed his lips and revealed a faint smile.
The next day, when they were studying the crime scene photos at the police station, Rossi asked Bruce, "So why do you think it's George?
What about Foyet? You said that directly to him on the phone. "
Bruce put his hand on his chin and pretended to be serious. "Perhaps, this is the intuition of a kindred spirit." He even nodded as if he was serious.
Rossi was also serious. "Oh, so that's how it is. Remember to let me know the next time you have the same intuition."
Reid, who was sitting next to them, looked at the numbers painted on the bus window and muttered, "This is neither a pattern nor an equation." He narrowed his eyes and asked, "Hey, what are you talking about? Why do I feel like I'm missing something?"
"Trust me, you don't want to know, just like I don't want to know how many mathematical equations went through your head just now." Bruce shook his head, trying to put last night's incident to the back of his mind. It felt like he had been seen through …
However, it was undeniable that when you understood a person better, the distance between them would be closer.
At this moment, Bruce's phone rang. He looked at the name displayed on the screen and answered the call. "You're like the light that guides the way in my life. Tell me, Penelope, you must have discovered something incredible."
"Why are you suddenly so enthusiastic? But I know you can't do without me," Garcia teased. Then, his voice became serious. "You asked me to check Foyet's alias. I can't believe what I saw. These names all work in the education department. They are all substitute teachers. They all teach high school computer science. One of them was fired for inappropriate behavior toward a female student."
This matched their profile, which meant that Foyet was the murderer. Hotch immediately told everyone to split up and go to the addresses given by Foyet. "Rossi and Reid, go to the first place. Morgan and Prentiss, go to the second place. Jones, you come with me."
Bruce was often happy to be in the same place as Hotch, but he always felt a little uncomfortable. Just like now, they were only about an arm's length away from the driver's seat and the passenger's seat.
"Do you want to talk about the intuition of a kindred spirit? Do you think you are the same as him? "Hotch drove and looked straight ahead.
Of course not, that was just a joke. Although in their eyes, he did have some characteristics of a serial killer, such as indifference and lack of sympathy.
If someone else asked Bruce, Bruce would only show a contemptuous smile and say, "He doesn't deserve it." But the person who asked him was Hotch. Bruce glanced at his expressionless face. "No, I am trying to be the same as you." His tone was gentle.
"Us?"
"Yes, you have something that I don't have. A strong sense of justice, compassion for the weak, uncompromising in the face of evil, and so on. I am trying to find them." Bruce said bluntly. He didn't mind revealing his true self. He had never hidden these things.
"Why do you have such thoughts?"
It's because of you. Suppressing the sigh that was about to come out of his mouth, Bruce tilted his head and asked, "Is this not good?"
"Of course not, this is good." Hotch glanced at Bruce. Although his expression didn't change, his tone obviously slowed down. "I'm glad to hear that."
Are you tired of chasing him? Avert your gaze for a while. Are you tired of having a crush on him? Confess. "
Suddenly, he thought of a post he read a few days ago. Of course, it wasn't now, but Bruce's heart was itching to do something.
It didn't take long for them to arrive at an address under the alias of Foyet. When they kicked the door open and shouted "FBI" with a gun, Bruce was still a little absent-minded. He looked around the house and complained in his heart that the criminals were not at home series. Then, he was attracted by a large amount of blood on the floor in one of the rooms.
Just as Bruce was about to squat down to check, he suddenly felt some kind of warning signal from his nerves. Already familiar with this feeling, he squatted down and heard the gunshots and dodged the bullets. "Bang! Bang! Bang!" Although Brosnan looked like he was rolling on the ground, he had undoubtedly succeeded in not letting a single bullet hit him. Of course, it was impossible for his movements to be faster than the speed of the bullets. This was all thanks to his ability to foresee danger.
A figure pounced from behind the cabinet. Bruce didn't have time to stabilize his center of gravity. The two of them smashed through the floor-to-ceiling window and fell down together. Fortunately, it was only the second floor. While in mid-air, Bruce had already taken out the dagger on his left arm and stabbed the person on top of him. Of course, he restrained himself from stabbing the person on top of him.
When the two of them hit the ground, Bruce shook off the person on top of him. After making sure that he couldn't move because of the anesthesia, he threw him on the ground and ran to the back of the house. He and Hotch entered the house from two different directions to search.
After running for a few steps, they saw Hotch coming from behind. "Are you okay?" The two of them asked almost at the same time.
"I don't think I'm the one who's hurt." Hotch sized up Bruce.
Bruce followed Hotch's line of sight and lowered his head to look. Then, he realized that when he fell, he had hit the broken glass and cut himself. There were some spots of blood on his shirt. "I'm fine."
They handcuffed Foyet who was lying in front of the house. Bruce sat at the side and looked at Hotch who was busy notifying the police and his team members. He inadvertently met Foyet's gaze.
Even though he was under arrest, Foyet did not show any signs of fear. Of course, it was also possible that the strong anesthetic had rendered him unable to control his facial muscles. However, Foyet's eyes darted back and forth between Bruce and Hotch.
Sensing Bruce looking at him, Foyet met Bruce's gaze. He tried to move the corners of his mouth as if he wanted to show an expression or say something. However, he could only make a few incomprehensible sounds from his throat. It seemed like he was mocking or threatening them. Foyet's eyes moved back to Hotch who was notifying his team members through the intercom. Then, he stared at Bruce and made some sounds. The emotions in his eyes made Bruce feel inexplicably uneasy.
Not long after, the police arrived and escorted Foyet into the police car. The paramedics also arrived at the same time.
When the team members arrived, Bruce was sitting on a chair in the living room with his upper body naked. The paramedics cleaned the glass shards that pierced his back and shoulders. He turned his head expressionlessly and looked at the shards of glass that were removed from his muscles with tweezers.
"Are you okay?" Reid asked worriedly.
Don't always be as strong as a rock. ]
Bruce looked around at the team members around him. When he saw Hotch walk in through the door, he was suddenly reminded of something written in the post.
"Oh, it hurts. It hurts so much." He exaggeratedly covered his chest with one hand.
"Don't move, agent. Your chest isn't injured," the paramedics said calmly.
After a moment of silence, Prentiss said, "This expression doesn't suit you, Bruce." Seeing Bruce's exaggerated acting, Prentiss said.
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