CM The future I see without you

"Menat sometime are masters against heirfates; The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, Butin ourselves that weare underlings."

"Then why is Brutus still dead?"

"Because fate is just an excuse for him." Diana smiled, the breeze blew through her long hair, and the sunlight sprinkled on her long white dress, like a large number of blooming wooden hydrangeas on the roadside.

She murmured: "What he said 'man is born free' is just to cover up his inner desire for power. In the conflict between the id and the superego, there is no essential difference between him and Macbeth, only death, for him It’s a complete relief.”

The mother's expression is so profound, just like the words written by Shakespeare, behind each letter is an unforgettable life sentiment, all of which are blood and tears that have gone through wind and rain.

Reid half-understood, he looked at Diana blankly, pursed his lips tightly, and looked annoyed.

Diana smiled and rubbed his head, comforting: "You are too young, Shakespeare is still too profound for you."

"No, I'm not young anymore." Reid retorted angrily, he turned the book to the first page again, and silently read it again.

What is fate?What is the id and what is the superego?What is human nature?

A few years later, Dr. Reid, who had just entered middle school, had finished reading all of Shakespeare's books and could even recite them word for word, but he still didn't understand the faint and obscure sadness revealed in Diana's eyes when she murmured.

Later, when his father left, Diana went to a nursing home. The ridicule of his classmates and the loneliness of life made him more and more fond of staying in the library by himself. He became more and more fond of natural sciences, logical analysis, and obsessed with all accurate and stable things. Stuff, a few microliters of reagents in a pipette and complicated symbolic formulas in literature are far more attractive than friendship and love.

"And then?" Dr. Reagan asked.

Reid sighed inaudibly, and turned his head tiredly, a large piece of golden sunlight came in through the huge glass window, and fine dust floated in the cold air, he was a little dazed, this scene seemed familiar .

Later, later, Dr. Reid, who thought he would die alone, met that silly young man, who broke into his little corner with all the bright and warm sunshine in the world, his smile, his Hugs, his willfulness, his breath, everything about him is like a tight net, covering all the yearning and fantasies in his heart.

"At that time, my first feeling was not love," Reid thought for a while, and said, "It was anxiety. I felt that I was finished and I couldn't escape. But the funny thing is, I can't deny that I was happy inside. Excited, I even want to know everything about him, his past, his life, his family. I want to have him."

Dr. Reagan frowned slightly, and then stretched it out again. He fiddled with the white long-handled thin spoon to stir the dark brown liquid in the white porcelain cup, absent-mindedly.

"I thought I was born alone until I met him," Reid said.

"So," Dr. Reagan put down the coffee spoon, leaned back on the back of the chair, put his fingers together on his knees, narrowed his eyes, and said, "You called me here just to tell me this?"

"What?" Reid twitched the corners of his mouth, frowned slightly, and said with a smile, "Aren't you happy? Dr. Reagan? Ronald W. Reagan, emmm, or should I call you, Black Jafferson?"

Jafferson corrected seriously: "It's Dr. Jafferson."

Reid shook his head and said, "When Yale expelled you, it canceled all your degrees. Sorry, I think, I can only call you Mr. Jafferson."

The kind and kind old man's eyes drooped, and his eyes were somewhat gloomy. He didn't speak, but raised his legs and changed into a more casual posture.

Without the embarrassment and anger of being exposed, he frankly cooperated with the doctor to tear off his superficial disguise, and turned back into that sinister, crazy and restrained fanatic.

Reid put the thick stack of information in the messenger bag on the table, pushed it to the opposite side, and said: "I checked for a long time, of course, you are very cautious, you have changed a lot of identities in the middle, maybe you have undergone plastic surgery intentionally or unintentionally, or even A few even asked someone to make a death record, but..."

"But you still found it." Jafferson laughed suddenly, the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes were as deep and shallow as tree rings, he said, "So what? Are you going to arrest me? At least give me a crime, right? Dr. Reid"

He Shi Shiran looked at the doctor, his eyes were bright, with contempt that was sure of winning.

In the kidnapping case, he appeared in the confessions of only a few people, and the judge even denied his existence when sentencing.In the following, his behavior is cautious and free from the boundary of law and morality. At least in the law of the United States, he will not be a sinner or a criminal.

Reid nodded and said, "You're right, I can't convict you, at least not now."

Jafferson hummed softly, pushed the file back again, and when he was about to get up to leave, Reid said, "I can't, but Jacques can."

The old man was a little stunned. He straightened his cufflinks and sat back on his seat. He looked at the other party harshly, his back was not as straight as when he was young, and the illnesses he had suffered had consumed his health and youth, but His chin was restrained and tight, his eyes were burning, and he looked arrogant like a king who controlled the life and death of the jungle.

Reid looked back calmly, his brown eyes were shining with the golden light of the warm winter sun, but flowing with cold and forbearing anger.He asked lightly: "What kind of scholar would brainwash a five-year-old child? What kind of teacher would define his emotional connection with a child as love? What kind of person would peep at his friend's in the dark like a fly Life? Mr. Jafferson, why don't you tell me, what is your definition of Jacques? Psychiatrist? Teacher? Friend? Or, lover?"

Jafferson was silent, he could see the sarcasm in the doctor's eyes, but he couldn't say anything.

He published hundreds of papers on cognition, psychology, and nerves, and thousands of professional terms flashed through his brain, but none of them could give a clear definition of these absurd emotions.

I don't know when it started, maybe, maybe it was the first time I met, that boy was no longer the means and source of data for my own research, and his existence even surpassed my own life itself.

In these impossible relationships, the only thing that is clear is one's own cowardice and greed.The resonance with Jacques may be just my own wish, an illusion that the subconscious force of escapism forces me to create in my heart.

Jafferson looked back at the young doctor, and he suddenly realized that the stories Reid told at the beginning, his own growth process, were just another self.

They are also lonely, and they also know that human nature cannot stand any test. They are full of disappointment and sadness about what they lacked in the past and what they can't do now.

It's just that he is very young, unlike himself, with silver hair and aging.

On the contrary, he can justifiably hold Jacques' hand to get the blessings of relatives and friends, and grow old with him.

Countless nights of spying on young people, he would imagine that if he was 30 or [-] years younger, the story would be another direction, or he would simply be older and die in the year Jacques was born, so that there would be no such entanglements later .

After a long silence, Jafferson said dryly, "What exactly do you want?"

Reid slowly breathed a sigh of relief, and asked: "Jacques, Levine, Natalie, there is another person in their team, Dean Tavoularis, the records in the system show that he died in the explosion at that time, it was an accident. But it wasn't, right? "

Jafferson was taken aback, and said, "How do you know..."

"Levine and Natalie are missing, and they suspect Jacques." Reid said with some frustration, "I checked his previous records, and some key information of that mission was artificially deleted, and Mueller said it was not authorized by him."

But those deleted messages are now likely to be the key to proving Jacques' innocence.

Jafferson suddenly laughed. He realized the purpose of Reid's coming to find him, which made him feel happy, just like Rossi was the only witness of Jacques' kidnapping when he was a child. Now he has also become the unknown part of Jacques The only knower of history.

He propped his chin and said, "Of course I can tell you, but I have a request."

"what?"

"Profile me."

**

"Why conceal the execution process? It will not do you any good."

Jacques irritably plucked the slightly longer broken hair on his forehead, and emphasized again: "I said I don't know. If you don't believe me, Dr. Clinton still has my medical records. My brain was injured. Forget about it." Besides, why don’t you directly transfer the files, I remember that the Federation requires that the dispatched agents must have relevant written or electronic records for every mission.”

"Those records are confidential, we don't have permission..." The young detective glanced at Caldwell, who was beside him with a livid face, and explained weakly.

"Then ask Mueller for it." Jacques kindly suggested.

The young agent looked at the hottest special agent inspector in the FBI building like an idiot. If he hadn't learned about his unclear intimate relationship with Mueller from his colleagues gossip early in the morning, he might have thought that the other party was provocative.

"Why don't I ask another question," the agent flipped through a page of documents on the table, and said, "Why did you delete the information about another agent in the team, Dean Tavoularis' mission?"

"First of all, at that time I did not have the authority to delete any records related to the mission of an agent. Second, if you think I concealed information, why didn't you ask the people who carried out the mission together? Levine and Natalie disappeared, but Those soldiers are still there, right? I don't believe everyone is as out of their minds as I am."

"We checked the records, and the above passcode belonged to a captain, Aurore Clement, but she died in Iraq three years ago, and the funeral was held in March of that year." The young detective replied.

"Her? A woman?" Jacques had no memory of the captain's name at all.

With condemnation in his eyes, the agent said: "As for the people at that time, they had an impression of your team, but because the time is too long, and it does not involve key content, it is not enough to be used as evidence. Agent Sauniere, the two people we are missing The agent’s residence found documents related to the explosion that year, and the note inside showed that your team was very likely to have communicated with the heretics who planned the explosion for quite a long time, we suspect..."

"You suspect that I have an affair with the Syrian gang?" Jacques asked in disbelief.

"No." The agent shook his head and said, "To be precise, we suspect that the object of your affair is the Russian government behind the Syrians who planned the bombing."

Great, the criminal case escalated directly to treason, Jacques' heart sank to the bottom, his head hurt more and more, and the development of the situation was beyond his judgment.

Caldwell, who remained silent beside the agent, said: "Director Mueller is still attending a meeting in the UK and is expected to return to China in five days. Agent Sauniere, although you have European and Asian blood in your body, it is undeniable that you are from the United States. The land raised you up, I think, as the American people and government officials, you should be aware of the importance of the Syrian Port of Tartus to the United States’ right to speak in the world.”

He paused, and continued: "Take a step back, I don't think you are willing to face a joint investigation by the Ministry of Justice and the CIA on the first day you return to China as Director Mueller, right?"

Jacques looked at Caldwell behind the interrogation table without saying a word. His head was in pain, his body fell into a strange sense of imbalance, his tinnitus became more and more rapid, and every nerve was sending wrong information to the cerebral cortex unscrupulously. There were spasms, and he began to feel a little nauseous.

The young man lowered his head and let out a suppressed gasp. The fentanyl patch on his back had already expired, and his breathing began to become slow and heavy. He raised his head, his eyes flickered, and the two cold faces in front of him blurred.

Jacques said indifferently: "You have detained and interrogated me for more than 24 hours without an arrest warrant."

"According to the FBI's regulations on internal discipline, the maximum time limit is 72 hours." Caldwell replied, "I think as an inspector, you should be very clear about this regulation."

Jacques raised the corner of his mouth: "If you are acting according to internal regulations, I think I should still have the right to communicate with the outside world."

Caldwell paused, and he glanced at the young detective beside him, who nodded helplessly.

"Who do you want to see?"

"William, yes, that's the William MP who shouts slogans on TV every day."

"You... are you sure he will come? He is..." The young detective asked back in surprise, and before Jacques could answer, he murmured, "Maybe I have to prepare a blank paper to sign, God Wow, I can't believe it..."

Caldwell stood up and walked to Jacques, a little curious: "I thought the first thing you wanted to see would be that Dr. Reid."

"Yes, I'd love to see him." Jacques nodded, "but not now."

"Okay," Caldwell pouted, then turned to the little detective who was still immersed in his fantasy, "Go and make the phone."

"Yes, sir!"

The excited detective gave a restrained cheer, quickly opened the door and ran away.The door closed with a bang, leaving only two people in the room looking at each other.

"No way, Steve hasn't been working for long..." Caldwell explained with some embarrassment.

Jacques nodded absently.

It was only then that Caldwell realized that the broken hair on the young man's forehead had been soaked with sweat, sticking together wetly, his lips were blue, and his eyes were staring blankly at the pale wall, as if he might fall down at any moment.

"What's wrong with you?" Caldwell asked worriedly. He didn't want this detective with complicated relationships behind a bright future to collapse in his interrogation room before the situation became clear.

Jacques stared back at him blankly, and asked softly, "Is there any morphine?"

Caldwell shook his head.

"Fentanyl?"

"You might as well ask me if I have any marijuana..." Caldwell was a little speechless, he fumbled in his pocket, and only took out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, which contained only four cigarettes.

With a heavy sigh, JAcques lit one with Caldwell's fire.

**

"...especially some kind of physical or emotional oppression suffered in childhood, which makes adult individuals have a kind of morbid fascination with domination, manipulation and control, and these three desires can be found in the identity of teacher. Satisfied." Reid calmly analyzed, "You desire to be recognized by Jacques, but the reality projection of this desire is that you want to be the most irreplaceable one in his life. This one can be interpreted as a life mentor, or, or ..."

"Love." Jafferson added flatly.

Reid was a little annoyed, he frowned and continued: "The sense of satisfaction and pleasure gained from the young Jacques became the driving force for your follow-up actions, or, I can also imagine that after Jacques was rescued, it took quite a long time. For a period of time, you have been in close contact. This kind of communication continuously supplements and enriches the details of your inner fantasy, and the excitement it brings keeps forcing you to pursue more realistic details. This is like a vicious circle chain, the situation will only get worse."

Jafferson smiled slightly and said, "It's shocking. This is the first time I've heard a professional analyze me. Thank you very much."

He glanced at his watch, stood up, and politely thanked the waiter who brought him his coat. When passing by Reid, he stopped suddenly and said, "Of course, if it wasn't from the perspective of analyzing serial murderers, If you profile me, maybe your discussion will be more exciting."

"Is there a difference?" Reid raised his head slightly, staring straight at the gentleman-clothed old man and said, "The crime you committed on Jacques, in my opinion, is no different from those criminals who are full of crimes."

After hearing this, Jafferson sighed, and the dark, blood-red sunset shone on his side face, like dried blood.He replied softly: "Of course it is different. I love him far beyond your imagination. You are too young to understand."