Bruce was taken back to the police station.
Although he explained to the police that it was his own house,
He could even produce the property documents.
But there was a problem.
He couldn't prove his identity. His driver's license, work ID, and police badge were all in his backpack.
Fortunately, they had worked a case here last year, and a detective in the police station recognized Bruce.
He was spared the treatment of being handcuffed and locked in the detention room.
But he still needed to produce proof of his identity.
To prove that it was his house.
He wasn't a burglar.
"You can provide your social security number or driver's license number.
So that we can confirm your identity quickly. This is the easiest way.
But if it's just a name, it may take several hours to confirm it through the database. "
… Bruce didn't remember his social security number or driver's license number.
But he didn't want to stay in the police station for several hours. He was hungry, tired, and cold.
His head was dizzy.
He just wanted to sleep.
"Or we can contact the FBI and ask them to provide proof of your identity."
"No need." He was suspected of burglary.
And it was his own house.
He would definitely become a laughing stock.
"I need to make a call." Bruce took out his phone. "Do you have a charger?
Or lend me a phone.
Mine is dead. "
He pulled out the SIM card and inserted it into the borrowed phone.
He opened the address book and pressed the bottom. As soon as the call connected, Bruce spoke first. "Spencer, I'm locked up in the police station and I need your help. Where are you now?"
"… This is Rossi. Why are you locked up in the police station?"
Bruce didn't expect to call Rossi. Both of them started with R and were listed together in the address book. "Uh, it's a long story."
"Then get to the point."
"The point is, I need to provide proof of my identity, but I left my ID in my bag in Hotch's ward," Bruce said immediately. Although Rossi joined the group after Bruce, he was one of the founders of BAU. His rich experience and character were admirable, and he often guided his teammates when they encountered problems. His teammates treated him as one of the two elders in the group, and the other was, of course, Hotch.
"I'm at Hotch's. I'll send it to you now." Rossi's voice came from the phone.
Bruce paused. "No need, no need. Just tell me my driver's license number. It's in my wallet."
.....
Bruce was cleared of suspicion of burglary. He walked out of the police station and stood by the busy roadside. He found himself facing the same problem as before. His phone was out of battery, he had no money on him, and he had left the 100 US dollars that Professor X had lent him on the table at home with the change he had gotten from the taxi. The wind blew, and Bruce couldn't help but sneeze. He must have caught a cold. Although the temperature didn't plummet like before because of the snow, his clothes and hair were still wet from walking in the snow not long ago.
Bruce closed his eyes slightly and rubbed his temples. He really didn't even have the energy to be angry. He only felt physically and mentally exhausted.
A car stopped in front of him and honked twice. Bruce opened his eyes and saw that it was Rossi.
"I brought your backpack. I thought you would need it, but why can't I get through to your phone? Get in the car. You don't look so good. I'll send you back, "Rossi said with a smile at first, but then it turned into worry.
Bruce had to admit that when he saw Rossi, he was a little touched. Although he knew that this was just a feeling magnified by adversity, just now, Bruce really wondered if the whole world was against him. From yesterday until now, nothing could make him happy. Most of these things were just small things. It should be said that except for one thing, they were all small things that would make him laugh at himself as "unlucky." But when these things piled up …
"My phone is dead." Bruce opened the car door and got in. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." Rossi looked at Bruce, who was fastening his seat belt, and her attention was attracted by the red mark on his hand. "What happened to your hand?"
Bruce raised his right arm and glanced at it. "I got scratched when I was smashing the glass." There was a wound of more than ten centimeters on his right arm. He had punched a hole in the glass and when he retracted his arm, the wound wasn't deep. It wasn't bleeding anymore, but it covered almost half of his forearm.
As for why he didn't use his ability to heal it, he noticed it when he retracted his arm. But instead of stopping, he sped up along the sharp glass and pulled his arm back. He had to admit that he probably wanted to use this to get someone's attention. How pathetic.
"Smashing the glass?" Rossi frowned because of Bruce's nonchalant tone.
"Yes, I went to the hospital to visit Hotch this morning and left my backpack there. After that, I was super unlucky …" Bruce put down his arm as if nothing had happened and casually talked about what happened in the morning with a joking tone.
"So, why would you rather borrow money from someone you just met and smash the glass to get in than go back to get your backpack? Besides, you could have easily gotten the driver's license number by calling Hotch. Why did you have to go around in circles and ask Reid for help even though he called me in the end? Is there some kind of … misunderstanding between you and Hotch? "Rossi caught on to the main point.
He must have blurted it out because he was dizzy. Bruce was silent for a while. "It has nothing to do with him. It's my own problem."
"So, something did happen. Do you want to talk about it?"
Bruce tilted his head to the window and looked at the passing cars in silence. After a while, he noticed a problem. "This doesn't seem to be the way to my house."
"I think you need to go to the hospital more."
.....
What Bruce didn't know was that a few days later, when Hotch was discharged from the hospital and went home to recuperate, Rossi asked him the same question. "Is there some kind of misunderstanding between you and Jones?" Rossi described what happened that day.
"Misunderstanding?" Hotch groaned. "Did he say anything?"
"He just said that it has nothing to do with you and that it's his problem. But it obviously has something to do with you."
"Sorry, Dave, I don't want to talk about it for the time being." Even though Hotch's attention had been diverted by Bruce's confession while he was lying in the hospital bed, he still couldn't figure out what was going on. Just like when he first understood the meaning of the bouquet of flowers, he still couldn't figure out when and why Bruce had such feelings for him. After all, Bruce's usual behavior was normal, except that he seemed to pay more attention to him.
"Okay." Although Rossi was a little worried, she still respected Hotch's privacy. "But I think he seems to … have the tendency to hurt himself." Rossi hesitated when she said this.
"What did he do again?" Hotch frowned.
"Again?"
Hotch thought for a while. "They received a photo from an unknown person. That morning, when I entered the office, I found him sitting in his seat and cutting his wrist with a knife. Although he kept saying that it was just the effect of the drug, I was worried about his psychological state. "
Rossi was surprised. "How could that be? He doesn't look like a … "Rossi recalled the time when she worked with Bruce. Although Bruce wasn't an outgoing person, he was at least a very determined person. He wasn't as gloomy and introverted as many people who were prone to self-harm.
"He's very good at showing the image he wants others to see," Hotch said in a flat tone. "What did he do this time?"
"His arm was cut by the glass. He said that it was an accident, but I noticed that the upper part of the wound was shallow, and the lower part was deep. If he said that the wound was caused when he retracted his arm, then the lower part was intentional," Rossi said as he gestured with his hand. "This long one."
"You need to pay more attention to his condition, Dave. How is he recently?"
"I'm not sure. He took a few days off, but when I sent him to the hospital a few days ago, he looked terrible."
Rossi parked the car at the.
langham
In front of Hotch's apartment at 715, Hotch wondered if his attitude toward Bruce that day had affected Bruce. He was a little worried about Bruce's current condition, but he knew that if he didn't want to, he had to express a firm rejection. Otherwise, it would only cause more harm to Bruce.
Soon, Hotch stopped thinking about it because when he walked into the apartment building and walked to his residence on the first floor, he saw Bruce standing in front of the window in the corridor, smiling at him as he approached.
It was a sunny smile that seemed to be able to drive away the haze. His slightly narrowed eyes were completely transparent and gentle. It was even brighter than the light from the window behind him.
It didn't look like the smile of the person they were discussing in the car just now. That was the first thought that popped into Hotch's mind.
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