Evolution, a Spencer Reid/Criminal Minds Fanfic

Chapter 61. Journey's End

Morgan yawned and looked after the doctor's departing figure. "What does he mean, 'choose your road carefully'? This town only has the one."

Hotch shrugged. "I think he was speaking figuratively. And probably purely for Reid's benefit."

"Here." Rossi tossed Hotch's keys at him. "You guys don't have to get any closer to Dr. Bescardi than you are right now. She's riding in the back with Morgan and me."

"Are we driving all the way back, or just to that airport and then flying?" Despite everything they'd been through, reluctance to break up the group colored Reid's question. The SUV would need to be driven the entire way back to Quantico, but not everyone had to accompany it. Hotch, Reid and Ana exchanged looks.

"I think it'd be nice to, you know, caravan back." Hotch's voice grew softer. "I kind of want the time to think about...stuff."

"Me, too." Reid's gaze was locked on his boss.

"Me three." Ana chimed in. She couldn't imagine getting on a plane and leaving Reid and Hotch. Not yet. We all need time to adjust before returning to our regular lives.

Oblivious to the looks it got him from Morgan and Rossi, Reid reached out and traced a line down Hotch's chest with one finger. After a moment, he drew back, reminding himself to stay out of the man's mind. He'd been warned. It was up to him to follow through. Even if he didn't really understand what he was following through on. Even more confounding to Morgan and Rossi, Hotch didn't seem to notice being touched. Mentally, he was somewhere else entirely.

The moment broke when Rossi clapped his hands. "Okay, kids, here's the plan. Tupper Lake is the closest town that has a jail. We drop Carol off and, from there, we caravan it to Quantico. Only not the way we did coming out, Morgan." He fixed the younger agent with his best don't-cross-me glare. "We're stopping for meals and we're spending the night at a decent motel...if I can find one out here."

"Wha'd'you mean about the way you guys came out?" Reid looked from Rossi to Morgan and back.

"I mean that." Rossi gestured toward the back seat of the SUV.

Warily, Hotch and Reid stepped closer to the official FBI vehicle and peered through the darkened glass. A handcuffed Dr. Bescardi glowered back at them from where she half-reclined on what appeared to be a nest of empty potato chip bags and candy wrappers. The occasional glint of an aluminum beverage can peeped out from the debris.

"Jeez. What happened? You guys gut a vending machine or something?"

Morgan roused from his bleary, half-asleep state. "Nah. We just like to keep all the trash in the back, you know?"

Even through the thickened, bullet-proof glass they could hear a rapid string of vehement Italian pouring from Bescardi. Judging by Rossi's winces and flinches, it was less than complimentary.

xxxxxxx

A few hours later, both vehicles pulled into Tupper Lake, another small town centered around a very obvious main street with businesses and civic offices lined up neatly along its length.

The county sheriff's office was easy to find. Two patrol cars were parked in front of the small, brick façade. If that hadn't tipped the agents off, the large man in a khaki-colored uniform lounging on the sidewalk, chatting amiably with what looked like a group of local farmers, was a dead giveaway.

"I've got this." Rossi waved the others to stay where they were. Bescardi had spent the trip haranguing her escorts in a blend of languages. She'd run out of anything creative to curse them with after the first twenty minutes, but kept lashing out, primarily because she knew it was preventing Morgan from getting any sleep. Even his trusty ipod and favorite music...staples that always traveled with him...couldn't drown her out.