Evolution, a Spencer Reid/Criminal Minds Fanfic

Chapter 2. Heart-Felt

        "My office."

        It was the first thing Hotch had said since Reid called himself a 'freak' over an hour ago. Rossi and the young doctor followed their leader from the garage, to the elevators, and through endless corridors to the BAU.

        "Hey! What took you guys so long? We thought you got lost or something." Prentiss looked up from paperwork that never seemed to diminish. No answer. The three agents stalked past her. She turned toward Morgan. Garcia was perched on the edge of his desk, doing her best to distract him from his work.

        "Jeeezz! Something I said?"

        Morgan shook his head. "Something's going on." He leaned back and craned his neck, catching J.J.'s eye through her open blinds. He pointed his chin toward Hotch's corner office and raised his eyebrows at her. J.J. came out onto the catwalk and followed Morgan's gaze. When Rossi and Reid were inside, Hotch's door closed. J.J. looked at her co-workers in the bullpen and shrugged. When the blinds were drawn, no one had any doubt that something had happened on the drive home. Everyone took refuge in looking busy. Garcia scurried back to IT after eliciting a promise from the others to keep her in the loop.

 xxxxxxx

         Hotch pulled the blinds, even knowing it would fan flames of speculation in the bullpen. He was stalling. A conversation was necessary, but he had no idea how to begin or what to say. When Rossi and Reid had settled into the leather armchairs facing him, he retreated behind the security of his desk. Seeing his boss ill at ease didn't do anything to reassure Reid. All he could do was stare at his feet, flicking worried glances at Hotch every few seconds. Finally, the Unit Chief took a deep breath and began.

        "Reid...what...how...I...I mean..." He took an even deeper breath. "Reid...what the hell?!"

        Rossi held up a hand. Older, cooler heads would prevail here. Even if that older, cooler head was spinning with the implications of what had happened.

        "Reid, can you tell us anything about what's going on with you?"

        "I told you. I'm a freak. I'm just getting freakier." He sounded defeated.

        Rossi and Hotch exchanged looks. At their stage of the game, it was akin to exchanging strategies, too.

        "Has this happened before?" Hotch regained his professional balance and decided to conduct himself as though he were in the field, interviewing a witness.

        "Not exactly."

        "Explain, Agent." He hoped a touch of authority would move things along. It did.

        "I can't." Reid gave his leader a tortured look. "It's like dreams, only...not. Sometimes I'll see things. I know they're not real, but the longer I 'look' at them, the more detailed they become and...and then I...I feel like I'm getting pulled into them and I get scared and they kind of...melt...disperse." He expected skepticism, but only concern emanated from Hotch and Rossi. "Now I'm starting to hear stuff, too, I guess." Reid sat up straighter. "I'm not crazy, Hotch...I don't know what I am anymore. But I'm not crazy." A catch in his voice underlined Reid's sincere hope that this was an accurate assessment. And a small, terrified doubt that it wasn't.

        Rossi leaned forward. "Do you know when it started?"

        "I think it had something to do with...you know...Dilaudid." His discomfort discussing his drug-addicted past was extreme.

        Hotch rescued him, redirecting the inquiry. "Is there anything that sets it off, or is this something that happens all the time?"

        "No! No, it's not 'all the time.' I can't control it at all. It's...Hotch, I'm scared."