Evolution, a Spencer Reid/Criminal Minds Fanfic

Chapter 48. Unfinished Meals & Memories

“Morgan, I left them! I don’t know why, but I did.”

It was hard to listen to Hotch’s voice. It strained and scratched against the dryness that still affected it.

“Calm down.” Morgan took the place formerly occupied by the doctor on the edge of the bed. “What are you talking about?”

The look on Hotch’s face made Morgan doubt his own grasp of the facts. Whatever his tired, damaged boss was saying, he believed it with all his heart.

“I was supposed to stay with Reid and Ana. I was supposed to make sure nothing bad happened to them. I didn’t.”

“Hotch, it wasn’t your fault.”

Morgan had intended his simple statement to allay his friend’s guilt. He had no way of knowing Hotch would read it as confirmation of failure. He couldn’t predict that his boss would interpret the ‘it’ to which Morgan referred as a fate that had befallen Reid and Ana.

Hotch had been straining forward, propped on his elbows. He dropped back, letting himself fall flat. Defeated.

“Oh, God. What happened to them?”

“What?” Morgan scratched his chin, trying to jump on the speeding train that was taking his boss further and further away. “Hotch, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Where are they, Morgan?!” Visions of sheet-covered slabs in a morgue were creeping into Hotch’s weary mind.

“Who? Reid and Ana?” Hotch’s look of dread as he nodded finally connected the dots for Morgan. “They’re fine. They went for some food. They were starving and I guess Ana doesn’t do too well in hospitals, so Reid wanted to give her a break.” The dread had turned to disbelief. Shock, even. Morgan took a cue from the old doctor whose presence had been so comforting. He rested a hand on Hotch’s shoulder and gave it a gentle shake.

“H-o-o-o-tch? What do you think happened out there?” Morgan frowned when the only response he got was a look of confusion as the injured man’s eyes darted, following some inner visualization that needed study before an answer could be given.

xxxxxxx

There wasn’t much choice in the way of eateries.

Reid and Ana settled on a shabby café with a menu that offered three items. But they were so famished, ham sandwiches sounded like an offering from the gods. They sat at a table that tried to hide its former life as lawn furniture by disguising itself with a vinyl tablecloth, and stared at each other. Neither had complained, but using their abilities was draining. Speaking, forming words, would take too much effort. They settled for the deeper communication of holding hands across the tabletop.

When their order arrived, accompanied by thick fries and wedges of sliced apple, they fell on the food like ravenous canines, reveling in every bite. Reid had only worked his way through half of his meal when he froze. Ana did the same a heartbeat later, picking up on his distress. She swallowed the fries she’d been chewing. Wiping the oil from her fingertips, she reached across the table and grasped his wrist.

“Spencer! Look at me!”

The eyes that met hers were tragic, wide with panic. Before she could separate herself from what he was feeling, before she could attain some calm and send out her senses to connect with him on a deeper level, Reid bolted from his seat.

“Spencer!” Ana stood and watched him stumble in his haste to exit the café. Before the door closed, he shouted over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Ana! It’s Hotch. Something’s wrong. I’m sorry…” He hesitated, torn between leaving her and answering whatever call he was hearing.

“Go. Spencer, I understand. I’ll be right behind you.” Where you go, I go, too.

Reid pounded down the street toward the hospital. The panic he was sure was Hotch-generated lent him speed. But at the same time, he was buoyed by the joy of knowing that finally, finally, there was someone who really did understand him.

Ana sighed and went to the counter to ask for a doggie bag and the check.

Despite worry about Hotch, she smiled.

Mom always told me I’d fall for the kind of guy who’d ask me out and then stick me with the bill.

xxxxxxx

Rossi took his time once Dr. Bescardi was immobilized.

He collected everything she’d printed out about Reid and Ana. When he took a minute to read a brief summary of her findings, a shiver waltzed its way up his spine and across his shoulders. What are those kids? And where will it lead?

He shook off the feeling that this was all some surreal dream and began methodically destroying Bescardi’s flash drives. She had made multiple copies to ensure the survival of her data. When the last little drive lay before him, waiting for its death, Rossi hesitated. After a moment, he reconsidered, picked it up and pocketed it. Reid wanted to know about himself. This might be a start…as long as it’s for his eyes only.

He collected his colleague’s go-bags and Ana’s single piece of luggage. Stowing them in the car Hotch had rented, Rossi turned for a last look at the monastery. He was on the point of leaving, but he couldn’t help feeling as though he’d forgotten something. Evidence. She’s not done paying for what she did to Hotch…what she wanted to do to Reid and Ana.

Rossi returned to the kitchen area and surveyed the tidy display of lab equipment. He picked up two test tubes. A pot of coffee sat beside a beaker filled with amber fluid. Nothing else looked as though it had been mixed from the carefully labeled chemicals lining one counter. Rossi sniffed at the beaker and found it odorless. Well, maybe it’s the drug she used…maybe not. But it’s the only likely prospect. Backing up Hotch’s story with a sample should go a long way toward conviction. He filled one test tube from the coffee pot, then one from the beaker, and stoppered them.

On his way out, he checked on Bescardi. She lay on the tabletop where she’d fallen, curled into the fetal position she’d assumed when the vertigo claimed her. Unconscious. Rossi felt her pulse and decided she was in no danger of dying. He toyed with the idea of abandoning her in the wilderness and leaving her to the same fate Hotch had suffered. It was only a momentary fantasy. After a lifetime of controlling his desire to mete out his own justice when it came to unsubs, Rossi wasn’t going to let this one destroy his record.

And that’s all you are now, Carol. An unsub.

He considered bringing her down the mountain with him, but the thought of spending three hours in her company, even her unconscious company, was repugnant. In the end, Rossi allowed himself only a small additional revenge. Before he left her, he poured a cup of coffee and placed it where it would be the first thing she’d see upon regaining her senses. He didn’t know if it was the drugged version, but he planned on imagining it was.

It would be a pleasant daydream to occupy his mind on the long drive down.