The Other Side, Part III Criminal Minds Big Bang
Title: The Other Side
Author: wit_worry_what
Beta: Katherine the Amazing
Artist: peasnbeanstalks
Art
Art Link: Here, at my journal
Part III
At this moment in Reid’s life there are really only two places he does not want to visit under any circumstances. New Orleans is on that list.
It is not that he has something against the Deep South since his encounter in Georgia. Nor does it have to do with the interminable heat. As a matter of fact, since Reid is now a drug abuser (not addict, never addict), a place like New Orleans where everything goes and everything is available would seem be a great destination. However, Reid’s problem lies not so much in the Big Easy itself but in who lives there. Ethan Raine.
He hasn’t seen Ethan since he was 15. Ethan is the son of one of his trainers in the Den, so he was the only contact Reid had with the outside world during training except for his letters to his mother. Ethan and Spencer had had an intense relationship, one rife with yelling matches, even angrier make-up make-out sessions, and generally both being much too intelligent for their own good. Reid, in his 15 year-old mind, was in love with Ethan and that had caused an obvious problem within the Den. They were together for 2 years in secret and only saw each other about two to three times a week, but it didn’t matter because in that moment they were the only thing they had. Neither of them had ever met someone else as intelligent as they were, and that only caused a love-hate relationship. However, once the Council caught word of their relationship, Ethan was never allowed to return. Spencer remembers he was so heart-broken and enraged he has refused to eat for 4 days until finally his trainers force fed him. The experience was not one he would like to repeat again. Ever.
Nonetheless, Spencer is very much aware of the fact that Ethan has given up the academic life and traveled to the Crescent City to try his hand at jazz, and Spencer is equally aware that Ethan is keeping a tab on him. That’s how Ethan and he are: even if unromantic, they have to know where the other one is.
So then, it’s not surprising that when Reid and Morgan walk into their shared room there is a folded piece of paper with the words Dr. Spencer Reid scrawled across it in a loopy and messy script. Ethan.
“Ooh, pretty boy, you got a secret message! How does that even work? We only landed in New Orleans an hour ago,” Morgan shouts out to Reid, even though there’s no need, he’s right behind him.
“It’s from an old friend. I was expecting it,” Reid says with a sigh.
“An old friend, huh? What kind of friend are we talking about, huh?” Morgan laughs, nudging Reid with his elbow.
“The normal kind, Morgan,” he snaps back. The second the words leave his mouth he is sorry he uttered them. “I’m sorry. I’m, I guess I’m just tired.”
Morgan gives him a look of disbelief but doesn’t say anything against him, “Ok, no worries, man.”
***
Reid takes a seat in the dark, smoky bar and goes over Ethan’s note in his head again, Frenchmen St. The Blue Nile. 9. Ethan. So here he is sitting in The Blue Nile on Frenchmen St. waiting for Ethan to show up. He sits facing the door. However, once he hears the music begin behind him, he knows he is facing the wrong way. Spencer doesn’t have to have heard Ethan’s music before to know it is him. The intricacies in the music alone have tipped him off, but it is instead the deeply sorrowful tune he is creating out of the piano that really gets his attention. Sitting there absorbing the solitude and sorrow of this moment in time and space is making Reid feel more alive than he has since he left that dank shed in Georgia. Even more than a jab of dilaudid.
***
“So, Spencer, what happened?” Spencer is about to respond with a the typical ‘what do you mean?’, when Ethan interrupts him, “Don’t lie to me. Your eyes are bloodshot…”
“I just flew in today!”
“You are bone thin…”
“I have always been this thin.”
“And your hands are shaking.”
Reid pauses and that’s enough for Ethan.
“The FBI lets you take illicit drugs now? That’s a new one. And shit, Spencer, what about the Council? If they hear about this you’ll get tugged back so deep into the Den no one will ever be able to find you again,” Ethan says, pushing his sweat damp brunette hair out of his eyes. Eyes that Spencer realizes haven’t changed. He is still that same boy he thought he feel in love with. He got taller though, still not as tall as Reid but that isn’t unusual. He is much more able to pull off the scruffy look than he could when he was 15, too. It is really the eyes, though, that got him. This is still Ethan. God, he really misses having a friend.
Spencer reaches across the table and takes Ethan’s hand with his own and traces the palm lines; they haven’t changed either. They just got older and rougher. Reid wonders if that has happened to his hands as well. He figures it probably has.
“Spencer,” Ethan sighs as his fingers twitch slightly; tickled by the light touches Reid is applying.
“That’s rich, Ethan, coming from you. We both know that you,” Reid says as his hand travels up Ethan’s arm and touches the crook of his elbow, “you, of all people, know what I’m doing and understand.”
“Yes. Yes, I do. However, I don’t have the Council breathing down my neck, so….”
“Can we not? Can we just be for a while? The last few weeks have been… torturous,” Spencer chuckles at his joke. Torturous, indeed. “I don’t need you to worry for me. I have a whole group of people in a hotel already on the job non-stop. I need you to be with me because they aren’t. Can you do that?”
Ethan smirks, the one that used to make Reid’s heart flip, “Yeah, I can do that, babe.” He reaches up with his other hand that isn’t in Reid’s grasp to tug the young profiler’s face towards his. Ethan’s fingers dig into Spencer’s face far more roughly that necessary to pull Spencer’s lanky frame towards him. He hopes he won’t have bruises tomorrow. Spencer gasps with a long buried need that has suddenly resurfaced.
Lips millimeters apart, “You know we can’t….” Ethan hums his agreement into Spencer’s mouth.
***
When the UnSub is put behind bars and all is well, or well enough, on the streets of New Orleans, Reid ends up back at The Blue Nile listening to Ethan one more time before the plane to Quantico takes off. Ethan tells him to stay, but they both know that can never happen. A figure comes to sit next to him, but Reid doesn’t turn his head. “He’s an old friend.”
Gideon nods. “Yes, I figured you didn’t go out and find a stranger to talk to.” Gideon pauses listening to the music, much more upbeat and full of hope than the song Ethan played a few days ago. “He’s very talented.”
“He is. That could have been me, you know, if I hadn’t gone with you when I was young.” They both stop talking to listen to the conclusion of one song and the beginning of the next arrangement. “I’m struggling.”
“I know.”
“I want this so bad. This job, this life, but it is a lot to give up for it. I don’t know if I can…,” Spencer stops, unsure how exactly to finish that sentence.
“I have been playing at this job in one way or another for almost 30 years. I've felt lost. I've felt great. I have felt scared, sick, and insane. I don't know, I guess the day this job stops gnawing at your soul... and your hands, your hands stop feeling cold, maybe that's the time to leave,” Gideon says, shifting in his chair, still neither of them looking at each other.
“I just needed to feel controlled for a while.”
Gideon finally shifts his gaze from the stage to the man sitting next to him. “You can’t have that kind of domination and be here, Spencer.”
“I know.” Spencer turns to Gideon. “I’m struggling, but I’m not going back. I’m here.”
“Good.”
They both turn and finish listening to Ethan’s set.
***
After New Orleans, Reid feels more centered. Just sitting there with Gideon felt restorative. He left his last little glass bottle in New Orleans and returns to Quantico throwing himself into work.
It becomes evident in the next few months that although Reid is feeling better, Gideon is the one who begins to struggle. And it all comes to a head four months after New Orleans.
***
With such an innocuous name as Frank, it is hard to imagine that he is the most prolific serial killer of all time. Hundreds murdered in such gruesome ways that it makes Reid truly hate the fact he has an eidetic memory. The latest name added to that too long list is Sarah. Gideon’s sub, his love, murdered, drained of all her blood just because Gideon loved her. Reid knows that to Frank it was a gift for Gideon, but knowing the why and how does not make watching his mentor collapse in anguish any easier. And, he realizes later, it doesn’t make anything easier for Gideon either.
Reid slides to the floor of Gideon’s long abandoned cabin with a piece of paper in his shaking hands, and watches as a tear drop falls from his face and hits the ‘p’ in “Spencer,” blurring it, as if the letter isn’t even addressed to him. “I said at the beginning of the letter that I knew it would be you to come up here. I'm so sorry the explanation couldn't be better. And I am so sorry that it doesn't make more sense. But I have already told you. I just don't understand any of it anymore.” Reid lashes out, kicking the leg of the wooden table in front of him. Gideon doesn’t understand? If even Gideon doesn’t understand what hope is there for him? Reid stops to take body-shaking deep breaths and remembers the crime scene, flicking through like it is a series of pictures in his head. Reid knows, he understands why Frank slashed at Sarah’s upper thighs instead of going for the easier to reach upper arms, he can explain in exquisite detail what each spray of blood meant to Frank. And then it clicked. Reid knows why because he, just like Gideon, is a good profiler, but why the answers provide no comfort he doesn’t understand. And neither, as it turned out, did Gideon.
***
Hotch calls Reid into his office the week after he discovers Gideon’s letter in order to talk about his official status within the FBI. Reid has been too shocked by Gideon’s abandonment to even consider the repercussions of his departure and what this meant for the human Selected.
“Reid, take a seat,” Hotch says, indicating the seat across from him. Gideon’s departure has not only hit the youngest profiler hard, Reid realizes, looking at the remarkable pallor of Hotch. It seems that Hotch has skipped at least his last three feedings to get to that shade of white and hasn’t slept for an equal number of days. Reid has the initial urge to offer himself for Hotch to use, but has to bite his tongue remembering, first, that Reid is not Hotch’s submissive, and that it is possible for Hotch to have his very own submissive tucked or chained into bed at home. Reid ignores how that thought makes his stomach knot up. Rather belatedly however, he remembers that of course the Council expressly prohibits Reid to take part in bloodletting for any vampire not expressly vetted by the Council first. Although, Reid considered, the Council has also denied Reid the ability of romantic attachment, but that hasn’t stopped him from kissing Ethan. “How are you doing today? I know Gideon’s hiatus hit you harder than the others, for many reasons.”
Reid looks up at the stoic man, who has obviously not been dealing with this incident well either. For those who do not know Hotch as well as Reid does, the older man would seem completely at peace, missing the tightening of skin near his eyes signifying a headache. Lack of blood, thinks Reid knowingly. “I’m doing fine, Hotch. It’s just he meant so much to me for so much of my life. I suppose it is a little like meeting the hero and realizing he is as flawed as you. It’ll just have to be something I work at.”
Just being in Hotch’s presence is like a cool balm on an open wound, making him more optimistic than he has been in the last week.
“How are, uh, you doing? I mean, have you been fee….” Reid is abruptly cut off by a slight growl emanating from Hotch’s throat.
With a tight smile Hotch responds, completely ignoring the last question, “Good. I’m glad to hear that, Dr. Reid. Now the reason I called you in here was to address the problem that we run into with the FBI and The Council because of Gideon’s…sabbatical. When Gideon left, the Council was immediately notified, and since the primary reason you were let out of the Den was because of Gideon’s guardianship, there has been an expressed interest in bringing you back. This is especially true considering you are in the same profession Gideon was in when he seemingly had a nervous breakdown.” Reid opens his mouth to interrupt, but Hotch cuts him off. “I know that you don’t wish to return. I am very aware of your opinion of that part of your life, and how you believe it rests in the past. However, the main concern from the Council as both they and Section Chief Strauss relay it to me is your guardianship. The Council refuses to allow a person who is not at the very least a former member of their inner-circle, such as me, to be your guardian. Nevertheless, I have been in talks with the Council, and I believe I have found a solution to keep you in the BAU, if you are still interested.”
Reid’s hand drops to his lap from where it had nervously been playing with his hair, and practically squeaks in excitement. “Yes! Hotch! Whatever it is I want to do it. I want be here. I want to do this job.”
This time Hotch’s smile is much more real and relaxed, “Good. Well, the solution we came up with is a bit confusing, but basically you would be a ward of the FBI or federal government. It doesn’t mean anything in your day-to-day life changes much. All it means is that you would have to come in for monthly interviews for social and work related updates to make sure you’re being safe in every situation you’re put into. In every way.” Hotch stresses the last three words, as if he were unhappy with how they were originally relayed to the vampire.
Reid seeing no problem with a little interview once a month, is overjoyed. “Will you be conducting them, Hotch?” Getting to spend more one-on-one time with Hotch is just the cherry on top.
“No. Erin, I mean, Section Chief Strauss will be conducting the inquiries. She will report directly back to the Council on your behalf, as she represents the FBI’s interest in you. I know this sounds like you are being treated as some sort of bartering object to be weighed and measured, but Reid, you’re invaluable to my team. We all need you, so it’s my advice to take this deal. I’ve been in constant communication for days trying to make sure you will be able to stay with me - with this team. This, I believe, will be the best deal we’ll get. Sorry.”
“No, Hotch, thank you so much. I have never had somebody work so hard to keep me. Gideon never and would have never done something like this.” Reid shifts forward in his chair and reaches across his hand to cover Hotch’s, reminiscent of his move with Ethan. “If you think it is best, of course I’ll do it, Hotch. I know you have my best interests at heart. I trust you.”
Hotch’s face breaks into a blinding smile and with wet eyes he says, “Thank you, Spencer. You’ll never know how much that means to me.” For a minute both of them just look in each other’s eyes willing the other to do something or say something.
Eventually Hotch clears his throat and moves his hand under his desk, “Well that is excellent news, Dr. Reid. I will collect the necessary paperwork from the Council and HR. Within the next few days you will be receiving an e-mail detailing instructions for the interviews. When, where, and I am guessing a message of greetings from Strauss. I am very pleased to know that you wish to stay with the BAU.”
Reid takes this as his dismissal and stands walking toward Hotch’s door. When he gets to the door he rests his hand on the doorknob, turning back. “I don’t know how else to say it, so I just will. Hotch, thank you. I cannot think of a single other person who would do something like this and go to all this trouble for me.”
Hotch glances down at the paperwork on his desk for a moment before he gets up and opens his blinds, so that they can both see out the window facing the bullpen. The bullpen is bustling with activity, with Morgan sitting at his desk telling a joke to Prentiss that obviously has a dirty punch line if Prentiss’ expression of incredulity is to be believed; standing behind him is Garcia with a proprietary hand on his shoulder. JJ is leaning against the cubicle divider with her head thrown back in laughter at some barb Prentiss just tossed back at Morgan. “Reid, there are four other people out there who would have done the same exact thing I did, and I don’t want you to ever forget that. Do you understand me?”
Hotch, when he elucidates, moves closer to Reid, so much so that when he asks his final question, which actually comes out much more like an order, he is crowding Reid, speaking directly into his ear. Reid smiles an exuberant smile, as if this is the first he has heard of the team’s love for him. He leans over and kisses Hotch on the check, whispering in his ear, “Yes, sir.”
***
The first time Reid goes in for one of his interviews with Section Chief Strauss his hands are sweating so profusely he is worried she will notice the moisture, so he just waves at her instead of shaking her hand, looking like a fool.
“Dr. Reid,” Erin Strauss inclines her head towards the chair across from her desk. “Please take a seat.”
Reid has always been a little obsessed with Section Chief Strauss’ hair. This is one of his deepest darkest secrets; something he will never tell anyone. He has worked under her for almost two years, and in those two years her hair has never not been perfectly coiffed. With an eidetic memory such as Reid’s, he can be quite sure that her hair has never once had a strand out of place. Honestly, it scares Reid to see it, but, much like a train wreck, he cannot help but notice it.
Throughout his time at the BAU she has had her hair at different lengths, a shorter bob or a longer layered cut barely scraping her shoulders. Nonetheless, every style is perfectly in control and every piece of hair is exactly where it ought to be at every moment of the day, whether she is going into the break room for her first cup of coffee or she is leaving the office hours after the night guard has taken over his shift.
An unnatural obsession to be sure, but Reid is always left with the same question: Is it Strauss that wants her hair to be that way or is it her Master that requires it? Could it be that that singular aspect of her life is so harshly controlled as to be an example for the true power of her Master over her? And the question that always and will continually haunt Reid is, how does that feel?
“Thank you, Chief Strauss,” Reid mumbles, his fingers grazing his own flyaway hair that is months overdue for a haircut.
“Please,” she says offering him a smile, “call me Erin. I imagine we will be getting to know each other much better after these meetings.”
“Um, of course, Erin.” Maybe this won’t be so bad. He knows Hotch doesn’t particularly like Strauss, but perhaps that’s because she reacts negatively to the Dom in him.
“Good. Let’s start with SSA Hotchner. I am aware that since Gideon’s departure you have had much more one-on-one contact with Agent Hotchner in a more, let us say, private setting. Does that make you uncomfortable?”
Or maybe it will be that bad.
***
All things considered, Reid leaves Section Chief Erin Strauss’ office feeling much more secure in his life then when he originally entered. She didn’t ask the two questions that he was dreading. He lied when he needed to, and he knew that she believed them, which was the important part. So then, all Reid has to do is continue living his double life without letting anyone, especially Strauss, know, so he is just forced to continue lying once a month for the rest of his life. Easy. He can do this. He can control this. He has to.
Ctd. in Part IV
Author: wit_worry_what
Beta: Katherine the Amazing
Artist: peasnbeanstalks
Art
Art Link: Here, at my journal
Part III
At this moment in Reid’s life there are really only two places he does not want to visit under any circumstances. New Orleans is on that list.
It is not that he has something against the Deep South since his encounter in Georgia. Nor does it have to do with the interminable heat. As a matter of fact, since Reid is now a drug abuser (not addict, never addict), a place like New Orleans where everything goes and everything is available would seem be a great destination. However, Reid’s problem lies not so much in the Big Easy itself but in who lives there. Ethan Raine.
He hasn’t seen Ethan since he was 15. Ethan is the son of one of his trainers in the Den, so he was the only contact Reid had with the outside world during training except for his letters to his mother. Ethan and Spencer had had an intense relationship, one rife with yelling matches, even angrier make-up make-out sessions, and generally both being much too intelligent for their own good. Reid, in his 15 year-old mind, was in love with Ethan and that had caused an obvious problem within the Den. They were together for 2 years in secret and only saw each other about two to three times a week, but it didn’t matter because in that moment they were the only thing they had. Neither of them had ever met someone else as intelligent as they were, and that only caused a love-hate relationship. However, once the Council caught word of their relationship, Ethan was never allowed to return. Spencer remembers he was so heart-broken and enraged he has refused to eat for 4 days until finally his trainers force fed him. The experience was not one he would like to repeat again. Ever.
Nonetheless, Spencer is very much aware of the fact that Ethan has given up the academic life and traveled to the Crescent City to try his hand at jazz, and Spencer is equally aware that Ethan is keeping a tab on him. That’s how Ethan and he are: even if unromantic, they have to know where the other one is.
So then, it’s not surprising that when Reid and Morgan walk into their shared room there is a folded piece of paper with the words Dr. Spencer Reid scrawled across it in a loopy and messy script. Ethan.
“Ooh, pretty boy, you got a secret message! How does that even work? We only landed in New Orleans an hour ago,” Morgan shouts out to Reid, even though there’s no need, he’s right behind him.
“It’s from an old friend. I was expecting it,” Reid says with a sigh.
“An old friend, huh? What kind of friend are we talking about, huh?” Morgan laughs, nudging Reid with his elbow.
“The normal kind, Morgan,” he snaps back. The second the words leave his mouth he is sorry he uttered them. “I’m sorry. I’m, I guess I’m just tired.”
Morgan gives him a look of disbelief but doesn’t say anything against him, “Ok, no worries, man.”
***
Reid takes a seat in the dark, smoky bar and goes over Ethan’s note in his head again, Frenchmen St. The Blue Nile. 9. Ethan. So here he is sitting in The Blue Nile on Frenchmen St. waiting for Ethan to show up. He sits facing the door. However, once he hears the music begin behind him, he knows he is facing the wrong way. Spencer doesn’t have to have heard Ethan’s music before to know it is him. The intricacies in the music alone have tipped him off, but it is instead the deeply sorrowful tune he is creating out of the piano that really gets his attention. Sitting there absorbing the solitude and sorrow of this moment in time and space is making Reid feel more alive than he has since he left that dank shed in Georgia. Even more than a jab of dilaudid.
***
“So, Spencer, what happened?” Spencer is about to respond with a the typical ‘what do you mean?’, when Ethan interrupts him, “Don’t lie to me. Your eyes are bloodshot…”
“I just flew in today!”
“You are bone thin…”
“I have always been this thin.”
“And your hands are shaking.”
Reid pauses and that’s enough for Ethan.
“The FBI lets you take illicit drugs now? That’s a new one. And shit, Spencer, what about the Council? If they hear about this you’ll get tugged back so deep into the Den no one will ever be able to find you again,” Ethan says, pushing his sweat damp brunette hair out of his eyes. Eyes that Spencer realizes haven’t changed. He is still that same boy he thought he feel in love with. He got taller though, still not as tall as Reid but that isn’t unusual. He is much more able to pull off the scruffy look than he could when he was 15, too. It is really the eyes, though, that got him. This is still Ethan. God, he really misses having a friend.
Spencer reaches across the table and takes Ethan’s hand with his own and traces the palm lines; they haven’t changed either. They just got older and rougher. Reid wonders if that has happened to his hands as well. He figures it probably has.
“Spencer,” Ethan sighs as his fingers twitch slightly; tickled by the light touches Reid is applying.
“That’s rich, Ethan, coming from you. We both know that you,” Reid says as his hand travels up Ethan’s arm and touches the crook of his elbow, “you, of all people, know what I’m doing and understand.”
“Yes. Yes, I do. However, I don’t have the Council breathing down my neck, so….”
“Can we not? Can we just be for a while? The last few weeks have been… torturous,” Spencer chuckles at his joke. Torturous, indeed. “I don’t need you to worry for me. I have a whole group of people in a hotel already on the job non-stop. I need you to be with me because they aren’t. Can you do that?”
Ethan smirks, the one that used to make Reid’s heart flip, “Yeah, I can do that, babe.” He reaches up with his other hand that isn’t in Reid’s grasp to tug the young profiler’s face towards his. Ethan’s fingers dig into Spencer’s face far more roughly that necessary to pull Spencer’s lanky frame towards him. He hopes he won’t have bruises tomorrow. Spencer gasps with a long buried need that has suddenly resurfaced.
Lips millimeters apart, “You know we can’t….” Ethan hums his agreement into Spencer’s mouth.
***
When the UnSub is put behind bars and all is well, or well enough, on the streets of New Orleans, Reid ends up back at The Blue Nile listening to Ethan one more time before the plane to Quantico takes off. Ethan tells him to stay, but they both know that can never happen. A figure comes to sit next to him, but Reid doesn’t turn his head. “He’s an old friend.”
Gideon nods. “Yes, I figured you didn’t go out and find a stranger to talk to.” Gideon pauses listening to the music, much more upbeat and full of hope than the song Ethan played a few days ago. “He’s very talented.”
“He is. That could have been me, you know, if I hadn’t gone with you when I was young.” They both stop talking to listen to the conclusion of one song and the beginning of the next arrangement. “I’m struggling.”
“I know.”
“I want this so bad. This job, this life, but it is a lot to give up for it. I don’t know if I can…,” Spencer stops, unsure how exactly to finish that sentence.
“I have been playing at this job in one way or another for almost 30 years. I've felt lost. I've felt great. I have felt scared, sick, and insane. I don't know, I guess the day this job stops gnawing at your soul... and your hands, your hands stop feeling cold, maybe that's the time to leave,” Gideon says, shifting in his chair, still neither of them looking at each other.
“I just needed to feel controlled for a while.”
Gideon finally shifts his gaze from the stage to the man sitting next to him. “You can’t have that kind of domination and be here, Spencer.”
“I know.” Spencer turns to Gideon. “I’m struggling, but I’m not going back. I’m here.”
“Good.”
They both turn and finish listening to Ethan’s set.
***
After New Orleans, Reid feels more centered. Just sitting there with Gideon felt restorative. He left his last little glass bottle in New Orleans and returns to Quantico throwing himself into work.
It becomes evident in the next few months that although Reid is feeling better, Gideon is the one who begins to struggle. And it all comes to a head four months after New Orleans.
***
With such an innocuous name as Frank, it is hard to imagine that he is the most prolific serial killer of all time. Hundreds murdered in such gruesome ways that it makes Reid truly hate the fact he has an eidetic memory. The latest name added to that too long list is Sarah. Gideon’s sub, his love, murdered, drained of all her blood just because Gideon loved her. Reid knows that to Frank it was a gift for Gideon, but knowing the why and how does not make watching his mentor collapse in anguish any easier. And, he realizes later, it doesn’t make anything easier for Gideon either.
Reid slides to the floor of Gideon’s long abandoned cabin with a piece of paper in his shaking hands, and watches as a tear drop falls from his face and hits the ‘p’ in “Spencer,” blurring it, as if the letter isn’t even addressed to him. “I said at the beginning of the letter that I knew it would be you to come up here. I'm so sorry the explanation couldn't be better. And I am so sorry that it doesn't make more sense. But I have already told you. I just don't understand any of it anymore.” Reid lashes out, kicking the leg of the wooden table in front of him. Gideon doesn’t understand? If even Gideon doesn’t understand what hope is there for him? Reid stops to take body-shaking deep breaths and remembers the crime scene, flicking through like it is a series of pictures in his head. Reid knows, he understands why Frank slashed at Sarah’s upper thighs instead of going for the easier to reach upper arms, he can explain in exquisite detail what each spray of blood meant to Frank. And then it clicked. Reid knows why because he, just like Gideon, is a good profiler, but why the answers provide no comfort he doesn’t understand. And neither, as it turned out, did Gideon.
***
Hotch calls Reid into his office the week after he discovers Gideon’s letter in order to talk about his official status within the FBI. Reid has been too shocked by Gideon’s abandonment to even consider the repercussions of his departure and what this meant for the human Selected.
“Reid, take a seat,” Hotch says, indicating the seat across from him. Gideon’s departure has not only hit the youngest profiler hard, Reid realizes, looking at the remarkable pallor of Hotch. It seems that Hotch has skipped at least his last three feedings to get to that shade of white and hasn’t slept for an equal number of days. Reid has the initial urge to offer himself for Hotch to use, but has to bite his tongue remembering, first, that Reid is not Hotch’s submissive, and that it is possible for Hotch to have his very own submissive tucked or chained into bed at home. Reid ignores how that thought makes his stomach knot up. Rather belatedly however, he remembers that of course the Council expressly prohibits Reid to take part in bloodletting for any vampire not expressly vetted by the Council first. Although, Reid considered, the Council has also denied Reid the ability of romantic attachment, but that hasn’t stopped him from kissing Ethan. “How are you doing today? I know Gideon’s hiatus hit you harder than the others, for many reasons.”
Reid looks up at the stoic man, who has obviously not been dealing with this incident well either. For those who do not know Hotch as well as Reid does, the older man would seem completely at peace, missing the tightening of skin near his eyes signifying a headache. Lack of blood, thinks Reid knowingly. “I’m doing fine, Hotch. It’s just he meant so much to me for so much of my life. I suppose it is a little like meeting the hero and realizing he is as flawed as you. It’ll just have to be something I work at.”
Just being in Hotch’s presence is like a cool balm on an open wound, making him more optimistic than he has been in the last week.
“How are, uh, you doing? I mean, have you been fee….” Reid is abruptly cut off by a slight growl emanating from Hotch’s throat.
With a tight smile Hotch responds, completely ignoring the last question, “Good. I’m glad to hear that, Dr. Reid. Now the reason I called you in here was to address the problem that we run into with the FBI and The Council because of Gideon’s…sabbatical. When Gideon left, the Council was immediately notified, and since the primary reason you were let out of the Den was because of Gideon’s guardianship, there has been an expressed interest in bringing you back. This is especially true considering you are in the same profession Gideon was in when he seemingly had a nervous breakdown.” Reid opens his mouth to interrupt, but Hotch cuts him off. “I know that you don’t wish to return. I am very aware of your opinion of that part of your life, and how you believe it rests in the past. However, the main concern from the Council as both they and Section Chief Strauss relay it to me is your guardianship. The Council refuses to allow a person who is not at the very least a former member of their inner-circle, such as me, to be your guardian. Nevertheless, I have been in talks with the Council, and I believe I have found a solution to keep you in the BAU, if you are still interested.”
Reid’s hand drops to his lap from where it had nervously been playing with his hair, and practically squeaks in excitement. “Yes! Hotch! Whatever it is I want to do it. I want be here. I want to do this job.”
This time Hotch’s smile is much more real and relaxed, “Good. Well, the solution we came up with is a bit confusing, but basically you would be a ward of the FBI or federal government. It doesn’t mean anything in your day-to-day life changes much. All it means is that you would have to come in for monthly interviews for social and work related updates to make sure you’re being safe in every situation you’re put into. In every way.” Hotch stresses the last three words, as if he were unhappy with how they were originally relayed to the vampire.
Reid seeing no problem with a little interview once a month, is overjoyed. “Will you be conducting them, Hotch?” Getting to spend more one-on-one time with Hotch is just the cherry on top.
“No. Erin, I mean, Section Chief Strauss will be conducting the inquiries. She will report directly back to the Council on your behalf, as she represents the FBI’s interest in you. I know this sounds like you are being treated as some sort of bartering object to be weighed and measured, but Reid, you’re invaluable to my team. We all need you, so it’s my advice to take this deal. I’ve been in constant communication for days trying to make sure you will be able to stay with me - with this team. This, I believe, will be the best deal we’ll get. Sorry.”
“No, Hotch, thank you so much. I have never had somebody work so hard to keep me. Gideon never and would have never done something like this.” Reid shifts forward in his chair and reaches across his hand to cover Hotch’s, reminiscent of his move with Ethan. “If you think it is best, of course I’ll do it, Hotch. I know you have my best interests at heart. I trust you.”
Hotch’s face breaks into a blinding smile and with wet eyes he says, “Thank you, Spencer. You’ll never know how much that means to me.” For a minute both of them just look in each other’s eyes willing the other to do something or say something.
Eventually Hotch clears his throat and moves his hand under his desk, “Well that is excellent news, Dr. Reid. I will collect the necessary paperwork from the Council and HR. Within the next few days you will be receiving an e-mail detailing instructions for the interviews. When, where, and I am guessing a message of greetings from Strauss. I am very pleased to know that you wish to stay with the BAU.”
Reid takes this as his dismissal and stands walking toward Hotch’s door. When he gets to the door he rests his hand on the doorknob, turning back. “I don’t know how else to say it, so I just will. Hotch, thank you. I cannot think of a single other person who would do something like this and go to all this trouble for me.”
Hotch glances down at the paperwork on his desk for a moment before he gets up and opens his blinds, so that they can both see out the window facing the bullpen. The bullpen is bustling with activity, with Morgan sitting at his desk telling a joke to Prentiss that obviously has a dirty punch line if Prentiss’ expression of incredulity is to be believed; standing behind him is Garcia with a proprietary hand on his shoulder. JJ is leaning against the cubicle divider with her head thrown back in laughter at some barb Prentiss just tossed back at Morgan. “Reid, there are four other people out there who would have done the same exact thing I did, and I don’t want you to ever forget that. Do you understand me?”
Hotch, when he elucidates, moves closer to Reid, so much so that when he asks his final question, which actually comes out much more like an order, he is crowding Reid, speaking directly into his ear. Reid smiles an exuberant smile, as if this is the first he has heard of the team’s love for him. He leans over and kisses Hotch on the check, whispering in his ear, “Yes, sir.”
***
The first time Reid goes in for one of his interviews with Section Chief Strauss his hands are sweating so profusely he is worried she will notice the moisture, so he just waves at her instead of shaking her hand, looking like a fool.
“Dr. Reid,” Erin Strauss inclines her head towards the chair across from her desk. “Please take a seat.”
Reid has always been a little obsessed with Section Chief Strauss’ hair. This is one of his deepest darkest secrets; something he will never tell anyone. He has worked under her for almost two years, and in those two years her hair has never not been perfectly coiffed. With an eidetic memory such as Reid’s, he can be quite sure that her hair has never once had a strand out of place. Honestly, it scares Reid to see it, but, much like a train wreck, he cannot help but notice it.
Throughout his time at the BAU she has had her hair at different lengths, a shorter bob or a longer layered cut barely scraping her shoulders. Nonetheless, every style is perfectly in control and every piece of hair is exactly where it ought to be at every moment of the day, whether she is going into the break room for her first cup of coffee or she is leaving the office hours after the night guard has taken over his shift.
An unnatural obsession to be sure, but Reid is always left with the same question: Is it Strauss that wants her hair to be that way or is it her Master that requires it? Could it be that that singular aspect of her life is so harshly controlled as to be an example for the true power of her Master over her? And the question that always and will continually haunt Reid is, how does that feel?
“Thank you, Chief Strauss,” Reid mumbles, his fingers grazing his own flyaway hair that is months overdue for a haircut.
“Please,” she says offering him a smile, “call me Erin. I imagine we will be getting to know each other much better after these meetings.”
“Um, of course, Erin.” Maybe this won’t be so bad. He knows Hotch doesn’t particularly like Strauss, but perhaps that’s because she reacts negatively to the Dom in him.
“Good. Let’s start with SSA Hotchner. I am aware that since Gideon’s departure you have had much more one-on-one contact with Agent Hotchner in a more, let us say, private setting. Does that make you uncomfortable?”
Or maybe it will be that bad.
***
All things considered, Reid leaves Section Chief Erin Strauss’ office feeling much more secure in his life then when he originally entered. She didn’t ask the two questions that he was dreading. He lied when he needed to, and he knew that she believed them, which was the important part. So then, all Reid has to do is continue living his double life without letting anyone, especially Strauss, know, so he is just forced to continue lying once a month for the rest of his life. Easy. He can do this. He can control this. He has to.
Ctd. in Part IV