Fic: Morgan-cide / Hazard (Criminal Minds, Reid / Morgan, Sean / Cain, Hotch)
Title: Morgan-cide
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pair: Spencer Reid / Derek Morgan
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, etc.
Criminal Minds Main List
“I’m worried.” Reid stated grimly and took a deep sip from his coffee. “Very worried.”
“I know…” Morgan poked at the meal in front of him with his fork. “Convince me this was a good idea.”
“It was your idea.”
“Yeah, but tell me I’m not suffering for nothing.”
“You want me to lie?”
“If that’s what it takes.”
“You made the calculations, and decided that if you eat your lunch at the cafeteria for two weeks, you’ve saved enough money to get that part for your motorcycle without feeling guilty that you spent so much money on it.”
“You could have wrapped it up a little nicer than that.”
“I could have, but I don’t really see the point. You spend more money on your grooming, but you’ve never felt guilty about that.”
“I’m not a horse, I don’t need grooming. It’s just maintenance.”
“Anyway, you know what I mean. You can afford to get the part without all this, so why go through this?”
“Because then I won’t feel guilty about getting it for my baby.”
“Your logic sounds very similar to JJ`s.”
“Really?”
“She switched to some home-dye, so she could buy a new pair of shoes she doesn’t need.”
“Nothing wrong with new shoes.”
“I knew you would see it like that… That’s partly what I’m worried about.”
“Our shoes?”
“Your style in general.”
“I got great style!”
“Sure, but it’s just… you.”
“What else could it be?”
“I mean…” Reid sighed and fought down the feeling of nausea. “It fits you, but spreading it around can lead to unpleasant repercussions.”
“This is so homey…. You speak, and I can hear it all, but I can’t understand what you mean. Just like the good old days.”
“I’m talking about that.” Reid pointed his fork at the man currently waiting in line for his food. “He finished his training three weeks ago, and since then he has shaved his head, changed his clothing style, and yesterday I heard him using your old pick-up lines.”
“Robinson?”
“He’s using you as a role-model, but you obviously already knew that.”
“Yeah, it’s kinda flattering.”
“How do you think that will end? With our luck he’ll turn into a stalker.”
“Come on, he’s still a kid. Even compared to you.”
“That’s my point. After finishing the training and starting in the bureau, everyone forms his or her own professional and personal identity, and molding himself after you can be harmful to his natural development.”
“Are you calling me a bad role-model?” Morgan sounded almost insulted.
“No, I didn’t mean that. In the developing stages it is normal to look up to someone older, who can provide guidance of some sorts, but when it goes too far it prevents him from developing into his own person. Personality traits are developed early on, but once entering a new environment, like a place of work, everyone needs to adapt into their new role.”
“So you’re saying that looking up to me is keeping him from finding himself?”
“I wouldn’t say it like that, it sounds so new-age-ish…” Reid`d had enough of the half-cooked food, and pushed his plate away. “When someone takes after a role-model, they can never really reach that goal that they’ve set for themselves. When that time comes, he’ll need to manifest his own existence without the parent figure by performing a metaphorical patricide. Or in this case, a Morgan-cide.”
“That doesn’t sound very nice.”
“It means he has to separate himself from his mentor, a bit like teenagers rebel to prove their own identity apart from their parental influence.”
“So you think he’ll set up a wild party at our house when we’re away, steal money from my wallet and pass out in his own vomit?”
“Morgan, I’m serious!”
“Come on, he’s a kid. How bad can it get? Hey…!”
“What?”
“Look, but don’t let him see you’re looking.”
Reid turned his head carefully, and noticed what Morgan had meant. Robinson had his arm around a petite blonds waist and he was leaning down to whisper in her ear.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that the same secretary you’ve been flirting with for years?”
“Yeah, Amy. Looks like they’re doing something heavier than flirting.”
“And you just think it’s a coincidence?”
Morgan looked down at his meal, grimaced and stabbed a piece of soggy French fry with his fork.
“It could be.
“And that wink he just gave me?”
“He winked at you?”
“You used to do that too.” Reid reminded, downing the rest of his coffee to bury the taste of the food. “It could be a survival mechanism. He is trying to be more Morgan than the actual Morgan, and eventually inhabit the territory of the original Morgan by out-Morgan-ing him.”
“Out-Morgan-ing me?”
“I could say it with all the technical terms, but-”
“Please don’t.”
“That’s why I tried to simplify it.”
“Then simplify this for me: What are we gonna do about it?”
“Maybe… sent him to a Morgan-free environment?” Reid suggested. “We already have one Morgan here, but there’s a lot of field agencies where they don’t have any.”
“Name the place, I’ll pack him in the crate and ship him off.”
“I was thinking something more subtle. Like how Chad is in the team that decides assignments and locations for new graduates…”
“And maybe there’s a good spot for Robinson somewhere away from Virginia.” Morgan grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Have I ever told you how hot it is when you get all cunning?”
“Several times.”
----- ----- ----- ------ -----
Title: Hazard
Pair: Sean Hotchner / Cain Christensen,
Aaron Hotchner / Chad Christensen
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, etc.
Hotch pulled the robe tightly around his body and tried to shake himself awake before he opened the door. Sean was already talking before he had even stepped in, and he reminded Hotch of the cartoons he had watched with Jack. The only thing missing was a cloud of steam coming from Sean’s ears. Hotch bent down to grab the morning paper from the steps and closed the door.
“-but you’re here, so I guess you didn’t get yourself killed this time.”
“Sean, we just got back couple hours ago.” Hotch cut through before Sean could continue. “Can this wait?”
“Sure, we can talk in the funeral. No wait, you’ll be the guest of honor, so I guess you’ll be too busy. One wasn’t enough, now I got two of you!”
“You’re not making any sense-”
“You go after lunatics like you’re trying to get yourself killed and then he does that too. What the hell am I supposed to do when you’re both dead?”
“Sean!”
“No, tell me! What am I suppose to do? Keep a countdown on how long you’ll all stay alive before someone tells me you’re not coming back at all?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I mean you’ve had enough close calls and he had that goddamn car bomb, how many close shaves do you need before you get the point and get a new razor?”
“Wait, are you talking about Cain?”
“You’re exactly the same, both of you!” Sean suddenly stopped ranting. The sound of car being parked on the driveway made him gallop up the stairs, giving Hotch quick glance. “I’m not here and you haven’t seen me!”
Hotch blinked a few times, trying to comprehend the quick changes in his sleepy stupor. The doorbell rang and he went to open the door.
Cain’s entrance was done with the same amount of vigor as Sean’s, but with less ranting. He walked in, waiting for Hotch to close the door before he spoke.
“He’s here, isn’t he?”
“Yeah.”
“Go ahead and ask.”
“What’s going on?”
“Reality meets Sean’s logic.” Cain groaned, glancing up at the second story landing. “Guest room?”
“I think so. What set him off?”
“I got an offer couple days ago for a free-lance gig. Then this morning they called to get my answer.”
“What kind of a job is it?”
“Can I borrow that?” Cain took the rolled up newspaper from Hotch and flipped the foreign section open. “This. The riots are getting bigger and now there’s rumors about a military coup. If things go the way it looks right now, they’ll close the borders soon.”
“You’re not seriously considering it?”
“Most news agencies are already pulling out their correspondents. They’re all under a microscope, but freelancers can move more freely.”
“Never mind that, do you realize what it can be like if they really do close the borders and things get violent? I’ve read the news, that place is like a war zone.”
“I know.” Cain smiled ruefully. “But it could be one hell of a story.”
“No wonder Sean’s shaken up.”
“He heard me talking on the phone and I told him it was about a foreign gig. Of course he wanted to know where it was and then all Hell broke loose.”
“I thought you had some sort of an agreement about that.”
“We did, and I’ve been taking safer gigs.” Cain refolded the paper and slammed it onto the table. “It’s driving me nuts. Couple weeks ago I did a two day stint in L.A. for friend. A full day listening some A-lister going on and on about her latest adopted kid and in the end I wanted to strangle her and the whole six person entourage.”
“So you’d rather take the risk and go where others try to get away from?”
“I’ve been in worse places than that.”
“I’m sure you have.” Hotch admitted reluctantly. “So far you’ve been lucky, but it doesn’t mean your luck won’t change.”
“It has nothing to do with luck. I’m good at what I do.” Cain gave him a grim glare. “You wanna know what my worst gig ever was? It wasn’t this one.” He patted his leg, and Hotch understood what he was talking about. “That car bomb was something I had no control over, but I’ve been doing this job for years, and I’ve seen worse than that.”
“That’s hard to believe.” Hotch replied. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what Cain meant, but wasn’t going to come out and ask.
“Believe it.” He turned around to check their surroundings to make sure they were alone. “Where’s Chad?”
“He went jogging.”
“I didn’t tell him when it happened. He was still traveling around and there wasn’t really any reason to dig it up later.” Cain glanced up at the empty landing. “I was doing a story on kidnappings in South America. Same gang operating in borderline towns, snatching foreign tourists, working both sides of the border. I had a local contact, who was supposed to help me.”
“You mean it fell through?”
“The local cops got to him first. You know how all the officials in places like that are on the take. They took him the day I got there.”
“What did they do to him?”
“I don’t know.” Cain tilted his head back to stretch his neck, taking his time before continuing the story. “People, who end up in lock up over there don’t last very long. I tried to make some enquiries after I got back to the states, but all I got was that he was attacked be another prisoner.”
“You didn’t believe it.” Hotch read from the man’s expression.
“No. Stories like that are what they always say when they need to get rid of someone, who could blow the whistle.
“What about you?”
“They knew from his notes where I was staying. Ten minutes after I had checked into my hotel they came through the door and arrested me.”
“How long did they keep you?”
“Fifteen days.” Cain waited a minute to let the unsaid meaning sink in. “No phone calls, no layers, no contact to the consulate. You know how it goes in that kinda places. Finally my editor got worried and started making noise and bullied our officials to intervene.”
Hotch fought down the unwanted mental images, that were about to show themselves.
“How bad was it?”
Cain sighed deeply, hands locked on his hips, contemplating whether to answer the question. Then he pulled his shirt up to expose his midsection and pushed the waist of his jeans lower.
Hotch looked down, searching for whatever he was supposed to see. Muscles contracted and something on the skin caught the light for a second. Hotch looked more carefully at the spot just next to the curve of the hipbone.
It was a scar, faded and almost completely hidden in the shadows formed by abdominal muscles and the curve of the bone. Hotch had seen similar would often enough to guess the story behind it.
“Stabbing.”
“I had it laser-ed, but that’s as good as it’s gonna get.”
“They did a good job, I could hardly see it.” Hotch stated, before he realized he was getting off topic. “Was it serious?”
“Not too bad, just a lot of blood. The infection was worse. After they patched it up in the infirmary, they just sent me back, so by the time I got home I had to stay two nights in a hospital.” He let his shirt hem fall back down. “Most guys, who ended up in that place never showed up again or came out of there in a wooden box. They didn’t go any lighter on me than they did on everyone else, and I came out alive.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to take the risk again-”
“It does. It’s my job, it’s what I’m good at and it keeps me going. Nine times out of ten I get out without a scratch.” He paused for a minute, tiredly rubbing the faded scar through his shirt. “How many times have you been injured on the job?”
“That’s not the same.”
“Why didn’t you leave and do something else?” Cain didn’t give him time to respond. “Because it’s the same thing. If we stopped doing what we do, we wouldn’t know what to do.”
“Even if it leads to that?” Hotch gestured at the man’s covered midriff.
“Everyone has scars. If you don’t have any, it means you haven’t lived your life. Everyone has them somewhere.” Cain stated quietly. “Sorry we brought the whole drama over here.”
“So you are still going to take the job?”
“Are you going to continue yours?”
Neither one of them answered. The silence hung in the air for a minute, before Cain made the first move and headed up the stairs. He walked straight to the door of the guest room and knocked on it.
“Go away!” Sean’s voice demanded through the door.
“No.” Cain turned the handle and the door opened easily. He walked in and quickly dodged the flying object. A vase hit the wall behind him and crashed on the floor. “Don’t throw stuff in someone else’s house.”
“Who cares, that thing was Hailey’s anyway!” Sean sniffed, rubbing his reddening nose. “What do you want?”
“First of all to tell you some rules.” He grabbed Sean’s hand before he could grab something else to throw. “Your brother doesn’t need the added stress of you playing a drama queen first thing in the morning. You’re not a teenage girl, so don’t act like one.”
“You’ve-” Sean hiccupped. “You’ve said that before.”
“I’ll keep saying that till I get through to you.” Cain pulled him closer and wrapped his arms around the squirming man to prevent future escape attempts. “And don’t run away from me like that.”
“You’re the one running away!” Sean glared at him with bloodshot eyes. “Like last time wasn’t bad enough-”
“I’ve been abroad since then and nothing happened.”
“Because you haven’t been doing jobs like that! You have any idea what it was like when we didn’t even know if you were alive or-”
“I came back.” Cain interrupted. He took a few steps back till he could sit down on the edge of the bed, then pulled Sean to sit on his lap. “The only thing that can stop me from coming back is if I’m dead.”
“You think that’s gonna make it better?! Seriously?” Sean tried to wriggle his way out of the man’s hold without much success. The arms simply tightened around him and kept him still. “You’re all nuts! You, Hotch, his entire frigging team-”
Cain’s hand slid up to cover Sean`s mouth.
“Quiet time, princess.” He waited till the man stopped fighting, then let him talk again.
“Quiet time? I’m not a five year old, and if you say I act like one I’ll… I’ll…”
“You’ll what?”
“I’ll... something.” Sean sniffed, and buried his face in Cain’s shoulder. “Can’t I just switch you all for nice pod persons? Someone, how looks like you and does nine to five accounting? And Hotch, who does civil suits over pampered poodles…That would be nice. And maybe Hailey, who gets booted off the island… straight into the ocean…” The wishful statement was followed by a sniffly chuckle. His nose was running again, forming a wet spot on the shoulder of Cain’s shirt.
Cain tightened his grip on the man’s frame, slowly rocking him back and forth.