The Intelligence Control and Analysis Program

Chapter 4

"Looks like someone slept on the couch last night."

I wish. Hotch gave Rossi a withering glare. "Dave, I'm not in the mood."

Rossi held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Okay, okay. But you might want to go somewhere else if you're in a mood, because Genius is in one, too."

Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Why is he in a mood?"

Rossi slipped his hands into his pockets and shrugged. "My guess is he's still mad about Owen. He didn't talk much last night, didn't eat supper or breakfast, and didn't talk again this morning. I had to rebandage his one arm because he ripped it open sometime during the night and started scratching again. He's been on the couch in your office for the past hour, just sitting there, staring into space."

Hotch glanced up at his office and nodded. "Right." He sighed. "I'll deal with it."

"Hey." Rossi snagged Hotch's arm and lowered his voice. "If you need anything..."

Hotch smiled weakly, a mere twitch of the lips. "I know, Dave. Thank you."

Rossi gave him a serious nod and let his arm go.

Hotch walked through the bullpen and up the stairs to his office, walking in and closing the door behind him.

Genius was sitting on the couch and staring blankly at his hands, which were furiously scratching and twisting each other. He was wearing the same outfit as the day before—he looked like he had slept in it—and his hair was tangled and frizzy.

"Good morning, Genius." Hotch set his briefcase on his desk and decided start the conversation as generically as possible. "Did you sleep well?"

Genius shook his head once, still staring at his lap, otherwise unresponsive.

Hotch wasn't exactly surprised, considering what Rossi already told him. "Something keep you up?" he asked, slipping a curious tone into his voice.

Genius nodded, but he kept his head down and offered no explanation.

Hotch frowned slightly, puzzlement quickly smothering his irritation.

If Genius was in a mood, he wasn't doing much about it. He wasn't being argumentative or destructive to lash out, and he wasn't seeking to make himself feel better. He was just sitting there, looking like death warmed over, half run into the ground by the stress his emotions had put his body through. He looked like he wanted nothing more than sleep,

Hotch could empathize with that.

Hotch walked over and joined Genius on the couch, leaning forward and bracing his arms on his knees. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Genius shrugged his shoulders, hazel eyes completely vacant, and his lips started to move slowly. It took a few moments for sound to come out, and when it did, it was almost entirely monotonous with just the faintest tinge of melancholy. "Are they coming soon?"

Hotch furrowed his brow and tilted his head slightly. "Is who coming soon?"

"ICAP." Genius scratched his arms and sniffed, eyes fluttering before he forced them open again. "When are they gonna come get me?"

Hotch didn't answer right away, unsure of how to proceed.

If Hotch got his way, Genius wouldn't be going back to ICAP for quite a while, but Hotch didn't know for certain he would get his way. He had barely scratched the surface of the paperwork, he hadn't gone up the chain of command; he hadn't even told the rest of the team what he was thinking of doing. Granted, it would take a little while for an official answer to come through, but even that short time span couldn't be promised until Hotch knew more about genius regulations.