Title: Hunger
By: Eligent
Pairing: gen
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When someone is coming for one of their own, the whole team hurts, which the BAU painfully learns as an unsub seeks revenge in the deadliest way.***
Another case was over. Another success for the team and the people of the city where their latest serial killer had preyed on innocents. The unsub was no longer unknown, but apprehended and in the hands of the local authorities. Four men had sadly been put to rest, but two others would live on.
The team was in the round table room back at Quantico, summing up their efforts. Constructive criticism was given and received, as were the praise they were due. Their reports were gathered together and they prepared to put the case away to concentrate on whatever would fall into their laps next.
Water bottles and half-empty containers of fried rice, lo mein, shrimp dumplings and other Chinese delicacies littered the table, as the team had shared an amiable and relaxed working lunch.
When they deemed themselves finished with their work, most of them went on to other engagements. JJ needed to smooth over some local feathers that had been ruffled during the team's brusque rampage through the small sheriff's office, Elle had calls to return and Hotchner and Gideon had paper work responsibilities that went far beyond that of the rest of the team's. Morgan and Reid volunteered to stay behind and put the files together for the permanent archive. Reid was quite content from his lunch, but Morgan had found a chocolate bar in his pocket to serve as dessert. He stayed at the table to sort the witness reports in chronological order, while Reid set out to empty the white boards of photos and other displayed documents.
"So," Morgan said amiably, "Who've you got picked for the game tonight?"
"Game?" Reid said absentmindedly, reaching for the eraser.
"The game, Reid. The NBA playoffs? Basketball, you know?"
"I haven't really thought about it."
"And you call yourself an American male," Morgan snorted. "You do know what basketball is, don't you?" He had a large bite of chocolate, caramel and peanuts into his mouth, making his words muffled.
"Hey," Reid said, turning around to face him. "You're the one who keep insisting I know everything, not me."
Reid turned back to his task again and Morgan quietly counted down in his head. Three, two, one…
"Did you know," Reid began and Morgan smiled at his back, before devouring the last of his candy. Reid was nothing if not predictable.
"Did you know that the pre-Colombian people of Mesoamerica actually had a game rather similar to basketball? Only the hoops, or goals, were placed on the long sides of the court and they weren't parallel to the floor, they were parallel to the wall. There's a very well-reserved ball court at Chitzén Itzá, on the Yucatan peninsula in Mexico. The court in itself represented a portal to the underworld and the ball represented the sun, the moon or the stars. Because, of course, it wasn't just a game. Very little in the ancient Mesoamerican cultures are ever separated from religion. The game is represented in the mythology of almost all the Mesoamerican people.
"Both men and women played, but, and here's the tricky part, you were only allowed to use your hips, thighs and upper arms, never your hands or feet, to pass the ball around and to score goals. And the ball weighed 7 or 8 pounds and was really hard and completely solid, and the hoops were 20 feet up in the air. Can you imagine making a shot like that with your thigh?" Reid was really getting into his impromptu lecture
"The game was very violent and the players had to wear a lot of protective gear. There were often serious injuries, and occasionally death. Some bruises were so bad that they had to be cut open, and the blood squeezed out." He grimaced at the thought.
"And on special occasions, after the game, the captain of the losing team or even the captain of the winning team would be sacrificed to the gods. Some references say that the whole winning team would be sacrificed by the hands of the losing team. Kind of backwards, don't you think? Of course, for the Mayans especially, it was an honor to be sacrificed to the gods. For example, there are five days in the Mayan calendar…"
"Don't you ever shut up?" Morgan's voice was hard and cold.
"Excuse me?" Reid turned around, surprised. Morgan usually didn't talk to him with that tone of voice.
"I'm so sick and tired of your constant attention seeking stunts. Why would anyone ever be interested in you bizarre little anecdotes?" He walked closer to Reid, who involuntarily took a step back, unnerved by the spiteful look on Morgan's face. But Morgan followed him, stepping into his personal space, crowding him.
"Morgan? Are you all right? What's wrong?" Reid's eyes shifted around the other man to see if anyone was close enough to help him should it be necessary, but they were alone. For the first time ever he felt unsafe in Morgan's presence. And he had good cause, because suddenly Morgan closed his hand around Reid's throat and pushed him ruthlessly a couple of stumbling steps backwards into the wall.
Reid tried to push him away, his hands braced on Morgan's tense shoulders, but Morgan's larger bulk and the increasing pressure on his windpipe easily kept him plastered to the wall.
"What's wrong?" Morgan was practically growling as he repeated Reid's question with a contemptuous sneer. He closed the tiny distance between them even more, pushing heavily into Reid's body. His breath was hot in Reid's ear as he spoke directly into it.
"I'll tell you what's wrong. You are. You walk around here like the king of the castle, expecting everybody to bow to your superior intellect. You never miss an opportunity to show off, do you? You think you're better than everyone else, don't you?"
"Morgan, I never…" Reid wheezed around his abused windpipe.
"Shut up, for once in your life. I'm talking now," Morgan yelled, his fist tightening as Reid fought to breathe.
Then he unexpectedly pulled back and for a fleeting moment Reid thought that he would let him go, that he would once again be rational. He relaxed marginally, but Morgan wasn't done with him yet. Instead he drew his gun. Reid's eyes grew impossibly large. Was he going to shoot him? But this was Morgan, he would never hurt him. Would he?
"Morgan, let me go. Please…" It wasn't even a whisper, just his lips moving, pleading, hoping to reach his friend.
Morgan let go of Reid's throat, leaving the other man gulping in air, but he didn't take his hand away from him. Instead he gripped his jaw, clenching and digging his fingers into Reid's cheeks. He then brought the gun up to Reid's face and brutally forced it into his mouth in a downwards angle, the barrel coming to rest on Reid's tongue, far back in his mouth.
"Where would you be without your words, huh? Who would ever think twice about you without them?"
The gun felt impossibly large and intrusive and the taste of metal and gun oil was overpowering all of his other senses, encompassing him into a world consisting of black metal and gunpowder. The hole from where he was sure a bullet would soon emerge seemed to grow until he was afraid that it would devour his tongue. His heart was thundering in his chest and it felt like the air he laboriously drew in through his nose was nowhere near enough to sustain him.
His eyes pleaded with Morgan to stop, to step back, to return to normal, to become his Morgan again. A thousand thoughts crowded his head, memories of card games, slaps on the back, shared jokes, shared sorrows. This couldn't be happening!
His lips were closed around the gun as Morgan's unforgiving fingers dug into his cheeks painfully, forcing Reid's head back and making his teeth scrape against the metal in his mouth. His body still held Reid firmly in place, and Reid was too scared to struggle. He didn't want the gun to go off.
"Or maybe…" Morgan said, abruptly changing the angle of the gun. The metal scraped against his teeth with a drawn-out sound that reverberated through his skull as the barrel struck hard against the roof of his mouth, causing his head to bang into the wall behind him.
"Maybe I'll just put us all out of our misery."
Reid's panicked eyes sought out Morgan's eyes, but he did not see his friend in them. They were glossy, almost feverish, and he looked wild. The gun was trembling slightly in his hand and it kept irritating Reid's gag reflex, which he was having a hard time controlling.
"What will your precious brain be worth, huh, splattered all over the wall?"
The sound of the safety being released was the loudest thing Reid had ever heard.
***
"Morgan? What the hell are you doing? Let him go!" Hotchner suddenly shouted, startling them both. He had come into the room for his forgotten day planner and gotten the shock of his life.
The gun was pulled out of Reid's mouth, and he thought that it was Hotchner that had overpowered Morgan and pulled it out, but he soon realized that it wasn't, when he felt Morgan twist around to stand behind him, the crook of his arm closing around Reid's throat, the gun coming to rest against his cheekbone. Reid's hands automatically clutched the arm around his throat. His eyes locked onto Hotchner, hoping against hope that there was an end to this nightmare.
Hotchner stood across the room, his gun drawn and pointing at them. "Morgan, what are you doing?" he asked again, much calmer this time. As the initial shock passed he realized that Morgan was not himself and he felt himself thread on very uncertain ground as he slowly edged closer to the pair.
"Come on, man. Let him go. We can talk about this. Everything will be all right."
"Hotch?" Morgan asked, sounding uncertain. "Wha… Why's… What's going on?"
Hotchner heard footsteps behind him, and realized that his shouting would have alerted the rest of team, and probably half the office. He saw Gideon in the corner of his eye and took a step back to let him move forward to talk, trusting him to be able to reach Morgan, whatever state he was in, but he didn't put his gun down. Morgan still had his gun pressed into Reid's cheek, and Hotchner didn't even want to think of the disaster laying in wait right in front of his eyes.
"Derek," Gideon said softly, "How are you feeling?"
"I'm… I… Gideon?" Morgan squinted, raising his gun hand to wipe sweat off his forehead, but bringing it back down quickly, the barrel grazing over Reid's ear, making him flinch.
"Derek, what are you doing with Reid? Why don't you just let him go and then we'll take care of you."
"Me? Take care of… No, no, you've got it all wrong. Don't you see, I'm doing us all a favor here! I'll take care of everything, you don't have to worry about it."
"What are you taking care of? What is it you want to do? We can help you, I promise. Just let go of Reid."
Behind him, Reid could feel Morgan's body trembling and sweating. He could feel his panting breath against his neck and beneath his fear and confusion, he knew that there was something horribly wrong with his friend.
"No, no, no, no… I'll fix it, I'll fix everything. I just need… need… I'm… Gideon? What are you doing here?" Morgan brought his gun hand up again, wiping his wrist across his eyes, pressing his hand against his head, raking it over his hair.
This time, however, Reid was ready, and when the gun moved back towards his face he reached up and made a grab for it, at the same time twisting himself out of Morgan's grip, which had become increasingly weaker. Morgan gave up the gun without protest, and Reid quickly backed away, while the others moved in closer.
Reid stood a bit away, alone, trembling, breathing hard, clutching the barrel of the gun which was still wet with his saliva, and rubbing his other hand over his throat while the others crowded in on Morgan, who was looking increasingly confused.
Morgan really didn't look well, Reid reflected from his position. He was sweating and swaying. He was trying to bat away Hotchner and Gideon's hands when they reached for him, but he was too weak. And then suddenly he collapsed. He just slipped out of their hands, fell to the floor and lay unmoving.
The room turned frantic. Morgan was quickly turned into a rescue position as they shouted orders at each other. Elle called for an ambulance and Hotchner darted out of the room to get a rescue bag. Suddenly Morgan started seizing, his body tortured by violent, bone-crackling jerks.
Reid kept staring at Morgan's shaking body without really seeing it. It was all too much for him to take in right now. The taste of gun oil was still too thick in his mouth.
The gun clattered on the floor as he dropped it when he ran out of the room, almost crashing into Hotchner who was returning. He made it to the bathroom just in time. Kneeling in one of the cubicles he was violently sick, the brutal heaves forcing tears into his eyes. He stayed on the floor for a couple of minutes until his stomach was completely empty and the dry heaves had subsided. And then he stayed another minute, just to get his breath back.
His mind was moving with dizzying speed as he tried to understand what had just happened. Had it even happened? It felt like such a bad dream, but he knew it wasn't. His mouth still hurt and his lip felt like it was on fire. He clumsily pushed himself back up on his feet and made it over to the row of sinks. Looking at himself in the mirror he saw that his lip was bleeding profusely. He didn't remember it happening, but the gun had smashed his lips into his teeth, splitting it open and the vomit had made it sting fiercely.
He washed himself off as best as he could and rinsed his mouth out, over and over and over again, but to no avail. He could still feel the gun in there.
The door opened and Gideon came in. Reid saw him in the mirror and turned to him.
"Morgan?" he asked hoarsely.
"He's being loaded into the ambulance now. Hotch is going with him. It doesn't look good… How are you?" Gideon pulled a couple of paper towels out of the dispenser and pressed them against Reid's lip, making it difficult for Reid to answer, which he was grateful for. He didn't think he could lie convincingly right now.
Gideon looked searchingly at him. He still didn't know the whole story; there hadn't been any time for explanations while they had been working on keeping Morgan alive. When he had come into the round table room, Morgan had been holding Reid around the neck, threatening him with a gun. He wondered what had happened before that, he wondered what had split that lip. But mostly he wondered what was going on in the head of the man in front of him right now. He had a pretty good idea of what had sent him running to the bathroom, but he had a feeling that now was not the time to push him.
He let Reid hold the paper towels himself and gave his arm a small tug.
"Come on. Elle and JJ are waiting for us. We're going to the hospital."
"I'm not sure…"
"You need to have that lip looked at. Come on."
When they walked by the round table room Reid saw several forensic agents moving around carefully, bagging the food containers, the water bottles and the rest of the trash from their lunch.
"What are they doing?" he asked.
"We think Morgan suffered an overdose of something, we have to figure out what it was and where it came from."
Drugs. Drugged. Overdose. Involuntary overdose. Poisoned. He should have figured that out. Of course there was a rational explanation for his behavior, because Morgan would never do that to him. Only… only he had. He had pulled out his gun, and he had… Reid shook his head to get rid of the unwanted image. He needed to think about something else.
"But, if it was in the lunch… is every one else okay?"
"So far. We're all having blood tests done when we get to the hospital though."
Reid nodded. That made sense.
A nurse met them outside the hospital entrance.
"Are you the BAU team?"
"We are," Gideon confirmed.
"Please come with me, we're going to keep you isolated until we are sure that what happened to Agent Morgan won't happen to you too."
She led them through a side door and into an exam room. Hotchner was already there, his jacket off and his shirtsleeve rolled up. Another nurse was drawing blood from him and he was talking on his cell phone, even though the nurse was giving him the evil eye.
He looked up as they entered and saw the blood splotched paper towels Reid held to his lip and frowned. He didn't remember him bleeding, but truth to tell, he had lost sight of Reid pretty fast and prioritized Morgan. First he'd been a threat, then he'd been a team member in distress, and Reid had been lost in the shuffle. He had simply trusted that someone else would take care of him, and he really hoped that someone had.
"We don't know yet, Mrs. Morgan," he said to Morgan's worried mother, over the phone, "but we'll call you as soon as we do… We'll see you then, bye." He hung up and turned his attention in his team.
"Morgan?" JJ asked.
"Down the hall. They are working on him. I… We don't know anything yet."
"Could you all roll up your sleeves for me, please?" the nurse asked. "And why don't you sit up here, sweetie, and let me take a look at your lip." She pushed Reid towards the exam table where Hotchner was already sitting and he reluctantly sat next to him.
Reid didn't particularly like sitting on exam tables, counters, bar stools or anywhere else that was high enough to make his feet dangle. It always made him feel so small. It was a residue left over from his school days. As he'd advanced through the classes he'd grown smaller and smaller compared to his classmates.
The nurse started by drawing blood from all of them and sending an orderly to run them to the lab, before she removed the wadded up tissue from Reid's hand. The room had grown quiet, each of them lost in their own thoughts and worries and all of them reluctant to discuss anything before they were alone.
"This is going to need stitches," the nurse said. "I'll send someone in in a minute. Just keep pressure on it." She disappeared.
Reid kept his eyes down, staring at his own feet, waiting for the inevitable. He could feel Hotchner's tense shoulder against his as they sat side by side, as well as he could feel everybody's eyes on him. They would expect him to have all the answers; they would expect him to be able to explain the unexplainable.
"Reid, what happened?" Gideon asked gently, just in time before the silence finally drowned them in their own misery.
Reid felt an overwhelming, petulant desire to answer 'nothing', but he knew that wouldn't fly well. So instead he settled for the ever neutral, "I don't know."
"Reid?" Hotchner's voice was soft beside him.
"Seriously, I have no idea. We were talking and everything was fine and then… then it wasn't. Morgan just went, uh, I don't know… kind of crazy."
"There's more than that, Reid. What were you talking about? What set him off?" Gideon asked.
"Basketball. We were talking about basketball… or he was. I was talking about pre-Colombian ball games. I guess he got a little upset over something I said."
"A little upset? Reid, when I walked in, he had his gun in your mouth! He was about to shoot you!" Hotchner said, also more than just a little upset.
"What? Oh god!" JJ gasped, looking horrified at Reid.
Reid winced at Hotchner to-the-point description, but he was also grateful that he wouldn't have to be the one to say the words.
"Yeah. Apparently he thinks I talk too much."
"Reid, no." Elle was sad for him; he could hear it in her voice. "He doesn't really think that. You know that. He wasn't himself."
He wasn't himself. He knew that that was meant to comfort him, but it didn't. Not right now. Maybe not ever.
He chanced a look at his teammates and was taken aback with the emotions they all displayed. They looked angry, worried and confused and it dawned on him that he should be too. Someone on their team had been attacked. Why and by whom they didn't know, but that should be their, his, priority right now. Someone had drugged Morgan. Morgan, with the warm laugh and never-ending patience. Morgan with the sharp mind and wicked sense of humor. Morgan with the unforgiving fingers and shiny gun… No. No, he shouldn't think about that. That was not the picture of Morgan he wanted in his mind. He wanted to go back to think of him only as a teammate. A teammate who had been hurt, and it was his obligation to find whoever had done this to him. He was the real victim, he was the target. Not Reid. He had just been at the wrong place in the wrong time. That was what he had to hang on to. He had to forget about what had happened in the round table room and concentrate on finding the unsub that was hurting his team. That was what he had to do. That was what he was going to do.
Gideon saw all the different emotions flickering over the young man's face and the determination it settled in to and he wasn't happy. Reid was going to bury this, which only meant that it would come back and haunt him in some other way. How were they ever going to fix this? Reid deserved so much more right now and he wondered if they would be able to reach him in time
***
After what felt like an eon of waiting, a doctor finally came to talk to them.
"Hello, I'm Thomas Anderson and I've been taking care of Agent Morgan."
"How is he? Is he alive?" Elle asked worriedly.
"For now."
For now. The words seemed to echo around the room, bouncing against the walls, coming at them from every direction. For now wasn't good.
"Agent Morgan has suffered a massive overdose. We can't be a hundred percent sure what it is just yet, we're still waiting for his tox screen to come back," Dr. Anderson continued. "But from the symptoms reported, aggressiveness, hostility, confusion, seizures, etc, we are pretty sure it's some kind of amphetamine. We're doing everything we can to counter it, but I'm afraid that he's slipped into a coma. We've had to resuscitate him three times and he's been put on a respirator to help him breathe. Right now he's stable, more or less. We are preparing to move him to the ICU. Has his family been contacted?"
"They are on their way," Hotchner answered dully, noting that the rest of his team looked equally as shell-shocked as he was feeling.
Coma, what a scary word.
"Good. Now, it's highly unlikely that any of you would have been affected, as the symptoms would have manifested themselves by now. If you have ingested anything, the dosage would be too small to be dangerous. But we will of course be waiting for you blood work before we feel comfortable releasing you from the hospital. And you, young man, seem to need a little more care."
Dr. Anderson walked over to Reid and repeated the nurse's action of pulling away the paper towels. "Am I right in assuming that Agent Morgan is responsible for this?"
Reid nodded.
"Try not to take it personal. With this kind of overdose his actions would not have been the result of any conscious decisions. I'm sure he never meant to hurt you."
'No, just kill me,' Reid thought, but then he shook the negative thoughts away. He had to remember that Morgan was his friend despite… no, not despite. He was his friend, period.
"Why don't you sit back here," Dr. Anderson said, motioning Hotchner off the table and raising the head of it. "It'll keep your head still while I stitch you up."
Reid did as asked and stubbornly kept his eyes at the ceiling as he felt the doctor's gloved fingers probe his lip and then return with a syringe with a local anesthetic.
"Doctor, can you tell how the drugs were administrated? Was it in the food?" Hotchner asked as he stood with crossed arms and scrutinized the doctor's handiwork.
"Most likely, yes. We didn't find any puncture marks or drug residues around his nose. The quantity of the drug means that it would have to have been ingested only minutes before the reaction showed up, and I gather that you were all together shortly before it happened? That means that anything airborne would have to have been picked up by you too. Do you remember him eating or drinking anything that you didn't?"
The team replayed the lunch in their minds, seeing the food containers being passed around in their mind's eye. Who had eaten what, and how much?
"De socolate," Reid said.
"Excuse me?" Dr. Anderson took his hands and instruments away from Reid's mouth, letting him repeat his statement more audibly.
"The chocolate." He turned to his team. "After you left he ate a chocolate bar."
The team looked at each other.
"I'll call forensics," Elle said.
"And I'll call headquarters and have them empty out all the vending machines in the building, just in case," JJ said.
"I'll have a team sent over to Morgan's place," Hotchner said, "In case he brought it from home."
"I'll call Garcia," Gideon said, "And have her check other hospitals if more people have been admitted with the same symptoms. And you should probably have the team that goes to Morgan's house check out nearby grocery stores and such."
"Are you thinking product tampering?" Hotchner asked.
"It's a possibility. We can't just assume that this was an attack at Morgan. It could just as well be against the BAU, the FBI or the chocolate company."
"You're right," Elle said. "I'll have forensics identify and contact the manufactures of the candy bar."
"You know, you're not supposed to use cell phones in a hospital," Dr. Anderson reminded them gently. "When you go up to ICU, you will definitely have to turn them off."
He spent another couple of minutes with Reid's lip, before tying off the last stitch. "Can you open your mouth for me?"
Reid did and felt Dr. Anderson check his teeth. He probably thought Morgan had taken a swing at him. Then he shone a penlight into his mouth.
"There's a small laceration in the back of the mouth. It doesn't appear to be bleeding, but there is something…"
Without warning he put a swab into Reid's mouth, making him panic and gag. The doctor picked up on it immediately and pulled the swab out, apologizing. It was all very quick, but Reid's heart kept beating wildly for a minute more. The doctor looked quizzically at the substance on the swab.
"What is that?"
"Gun oil," Reid said darkly.
Dr. Anderson's eyes widened at the implication. "Oh my… Well, you mouth looks fine. You just have to be careful with your lip for awhile."
The nurse came in with an ice pack that Reid gratefully held to his mouth, hiding it from the rest of the world. Dr. Anderson turned to the rest of the team.
"You will have to stay here until we get your test results, after that you are welcome up in the ICU to see your friend. I will be in charge of his care. If you have any questions or just want to check in, you can reach me at this number." He handed Hotchner a business card.
"Is there anything you need while you wait?" the nurse asked.
"I…umm… Could you maybe get me a toothbrush?" Reid asked.
The nurse looked surprised with the unusual request, but promised to be back shortly with the item in question.
When he got the toothbrush he locked himself in the bathroom, glad to be out of the spotlight for a while.
He studied himself in the mirror and under the harsh fluorescent light he could see shadows on his neck and jaw where Morgan's fingers had left their marks, although he wasn't sure if they were visible to everyone or if they just existed in his mind. He then looked at his swollen lip and the black thread in it. It could be worse, he reflected. He could've been dead. He could have died today. The thought was both scary and sobering. And he still had the god-awful taste of gun oil in his mouth.
The nurse had been thoughtful enough to provide him with a travel-sized tube of toothpaste which he generously coated the toothbrush with. He scrubbed his teeth with a frenzy that threatened to wear the enamel clear off. He let the peppermint lather spread throughout his oral cavity and he relished the freshness it left behind as he spit it out and rinsed his mouth over and over again.
When he came out of the bathroom the others were waiting for him.
"Our blood tests came back negative," Elle said. "We can go see Morgan now."
The elevator ride was quiet and they all turned off their cell phones before exiting on the ICU floor. A smiling nurse led them to a private room across from the nurses' station.
It was a somber group who entered and gathered around the bed, except for Reid who stopped in the door and couldn't bring himself to walk any closer. He stood, staring. Morgan looked gray and dull. Lifeless. Not at all menacing.
Immediately Reid felt ashamed of thinking that, but he hadn't known at all what to expect, walking into the room. Morgan and he had been friends for a long time, now he didn't know how to look at him.
What had been going through his mind? What had changed? How could he make jokes one minute and want to kill him the next? Had it just been the amphetamine, or had the drugs enhanced something he was already feeling? Maybe Morgan really did think he was an annoying know-it-all. Or maybe he thought that on a subconscious level without even knowing it.
Reid edged away from the door, as to not hinder access to the room, but he kept his back to the wall, listening to his friends' murmur, a sound reserved for funerals and hospital rooms. Seeing a friend in this environment was always disturbing, something you never got used to.
Elle was faithfully clasping a hand that didn't clasp back.
"We'll make a schedule for sitting with him," Hotchner said quietly, "To make sure he's never alone."
"You'll do no such thing, Agent Hotchner."
They all turned around as a new voice broke through the hushed atmosphere.
"Mrs. Morgan," Hotchner greeted the woman standing in the door. "We didn't expect you so soon."
"Luckily I wasn't in Chicago when you called. I'm visiting my sister this week." Even though she was talking to them, she purposely strode through the room ignoring them, her eyes resting on her son. Behind her were an older couple, Mrs. Morgan's sister and her husband.
Gideon and JJ moved away from the bed to give them access.
"Mrs. Morgan, we're really, really sorry…" JJ began, but Mrs. Morgan cut her off,
"He's not dead yet. Have you caught the one who did this to my baby?"
"No, ma'am."
"Then I suggest you start looking instead of standing here gawking. You're welcome to visit, certainty, but I've sat by Derek's bedside through chickenpox, rubella, stomach flues, broken bones, and countless other ailments. It's what I do best. And now it's time for you to do what you do best."
Her eyes wandered between them, making eye contact with each and everyone of them, enjoining them the responsibility to find whoever had hurt her son.
Soon they had left the hospital room, even though a part of them would surely stay there until Morgan could leave with them.
They walked in silence, each resetting their brain from shock, anger and sadness to purposeful investigation mood.
In the parking lot Hotchner stopped.
"Are you okay to come back with us?" he asked Reid. "Or do you want to go home, get some rest?"
"What? No, no I'm fine. Really."
Hotchner thought it over. He didn't want to pressure Reid into doing something he wasn't really ready to, but the idea of having him somewhere where they could keep an eye on him was very appealing. Besides, they really needed his help.
"Okay. But if it gets to be too much, or you get tired, just say the word."
Back at headquarters they gathered in a lower level conference room. The round table room was still closed for forensic purposes and truth be told, none of them would feel very comfortable in there right now.
Gideon had tried to corner Reid, tried to get him alone several times already, but Reid had avoided him and made excuses. He knew what the other man wanted and he didn't share that want.
Preliminary reports were already waiting for them. Morgan's blood had showed that he had been dosed with a possibly lethal amount of very pure amphetamine. It had been matched with residues in the melted chocolate in the wrapper gathered from the round table room.
The forensic team that had gone to Morgan's place had found sixteen candy bars in a kitchen cupboard. They had been sent for analysis. They had also found miniscule scratches around the front door lock. Either Morgan had come home very drunk one night and had had problems finding the lock, or someone had picked it. More tests were being done on it.
The candy from the vending machines in the building hadn't been analyzed yet, but an ocular investigation hadn't discovered any tampering.
Suddenly a pale-faced Garcia stood in the door.
"How is he?" she asked with a trembling lower lip.
"Not good," Gideon answered her. "He's in a coma. The outcome is… uncertain."
A breath that could easily have been mistaken for a sob escaped her.
"What can I do?" Her eyes kept darting over Reid, without actually making contact. Reid tactfully pretended not to notice.
"Check his phone records, incoming and outgoing," Hotchner requested. "Cell phone, work phone and home phone. Look for anything that might be unusual or suspicious. Also check his e-mail. See if there have been any threats or any other discrepancies."
"On it." She disappeared back to her lab.
"Wouldn't he have told us if he we being threatened?" JJ wondered.
"Only if he took them seriously," Elle said darkly.
"Elle and Gideon," Hotchner continued. "You go to his house and look around. Check his mail, files, notes, everything you can think of. And bring his computer back to Garcia. JJ, check his desk, see if there's anything there."
"Press release?" she asked.
Gideon shook his head. "Too soon. We haven't got a profile yet."
"And if anyone asks?" JJ wondered.
"Standard non-direct answers," Hotchner said. "Reid and I'll start pulling case files, check for cases where Morgan has been more prominent or where threats have been made. And be careful, everybody. There's no way of knowing if the unsub's finished or if he's got it in for the whole team. Take your time, be thorough. And as soon as you are finished, come back here and help us with the files."
The team scattered. It was already evening and they had a lot of work ahead of them.
It was almost one-thirty in the morning. Much too late to cook anything, Reid thought as he stood staring into his refrigerator, the small light bulb making him appear deathly pale against the dark kitchen. He wasn't really in the mood to eat much anyway. He just wanted something to fill him up. He hadn't eaten since lunch, and he had thrown that up. He settled for a bowl of cereal.
Leaning against the counter he fixed his meal, not bothering to sit down for it. For a moment he just tiredly watched the cereal crackle in the cold milk, soaking up the liquid around them as he thought of the long, fruitless night behind him. Although they wouldn't actually be comparing notes until tomorrow, he'd gotten the feeling that no one would have anything substantial to report.
Then he filled his spoon and put it in his mouth.
…Morgan's hand gripping his jaw, forcing it to do his will. The hard, heavy feeling of something in his mouth that wasn't supposed to be there. The pain as it moved around. Something pushed against his gag reflex…
And he came back to himself, hunched over the sink, spitting and gagging, trying to convince his heaving stomach to calm down. He was breathing harshly, with cold sweat all over his body. What the hell just happened?
When he got his breathing back under control, he stood up shakingly from his hunched position and wiped a hand over his mouth. That had been powerful. But why now? He'd been drinking water and coffee all day without any problems. And he hadn't had any problems brushing his teeth either.
He eyed the bowl suspiciously. Milk and cereal, looking very innocent, completely normal. Why… Okay, maybe the why wasn't too difficult to figure out. He had after all studied psychology extensively. But suddenly being afraid of guns would have been much more logical.
He hesitatively filled the spoon again and held it up to his mouth. The sight of it didn't bother him, neither did the smell. A one time occurrence maybe? One could always hope. He resolutely emptied the spoon into his mouth again.
…The sound of metal scraping against teeth. The taste of gun oil and blood mixing together. His mouth was full, too full…
He once again found himself leaning over the sink, spitting and coughing. Apparently food was no longer for him. He dumped his soggy dinner in the sink, and instead poured himself a glass of milk. Liquids had been fine during the day, would it still? He put the glass to his mouth, fully expecting to once again find himself in a flashback, but instead the cool milk flowed over his palate, smoothly cleansing it of previous horrors.
Reid looked thoughtfully at the empty glass in his hand. 'Well, a day without food won't kill me,' he thought. 'Hopefully this will pass by tomorrow.'
He looked at the watch. He didn't relish the thought of going to bed. He couldn't imagine how he would be able to sleep at all after the day he'd had. He would twist and turn while his mind worked overtime, spinning around itself as the sheets became too warm to be comfortable. No, what he needed was a mind-numbing night in front of the TV. Hopefully his mind would grow tired with the lack of serious stimulation and he would fall asleep without even trying.
He settled himself on his couch under a blanket to wait for morning.
***
The next morning Reid arrived at headquarters tired and hungry. At least he knew he wouldn't be the only one who had to function on a minimal amount of sleep today, the whole team looked equally haggard.
Before coming in he had experimented with lots of different food, but found that even the smallest bread crumb would grow and explode in his mouth, triggering another flashback. Drinking, however, didn't pose any difficulty… well very minor ones anyway. He had learnt the painful way that his orange juice now had to be without pulp. Not that his sore lip was very fond of orange juice right now anyway.
A toothbrush was fine, as long as it was coated with toothpaste. Without toothpaste it didn't work. The only thing he could think of to compare it with was rape victims' compulsive need of showering. Even when he was drinking coffee it felt like it was washing away miniscule residues of the gun. Liquids were good, and for now, they were his only source of nutrition.
Once he'd conceded to the fact that he wouldn't be able to eat he'd been sweating and shaking. He'd also made the decision that he couldn't let the others know. He would be kicked off the case so fast it would make his head spin. They would probably hospitalize him too, and the last thing he needed right now was to spend his days in the hands of a shrink. He couldn't let that happen.
No, he could fix this on his own. He was supposed to be smart, after all. He would read up on flashbacks and eating disorders and PTSD and whatever else he could think of and he would figure this out before it became a big problem.
That way he could still go to work everyday. He could make good on his vow of finding the unsub who was hurting his team. That way he could stay busy and wouldn't be trapped in his own head all day.
Elle smiled at him as he sat down next to her in their new conference room.
"Good morning, how are you doing?" she asked.
"I'm fine," he answered noncommittally, "How are you?"
She looked startled by the question, as if there had been an unexpected change of subject. "Umm… I'm fine."
"Good."
Hotchner stood by the head of the table.
"Okay," he began when he saw that they were all seated. "First things first. I've talked to both Dr. Anderson and Mrs. Morgan this morning. There's been no change over the night, the coma is still deep. Morgan' vitals are looking a little better though, and if they keep improving over the day they are hoping to be able to take him off the respirator by tomorrow. The guards we posted outside his room also reported a quiet night."
There was a moment of silence before Hotchner continued.
"Progress reports from yesterday. Anything?"
"We've found no indications of any existing threats," Elle said. "His mail, e-mail, phone records, internet history, everything looks normal."
"Forensics says that Morgan's lock has definitely been picked." JJ read out loud from the file in her hands. "Among the candy in his house, there were four other that were laced with amphetamine, all of them potentially lethal. There haven't been any drugs found in any other candy bars, neither from headquarters or the convenience stores around Morgan's place. So… it's now safe to assume that the attack was deliberately directed at Morgan."
"Or the team," Gideon reminded her. "Morgan might just have been the start."
Hotchner turned to Elle and Gideon. "Did you find anything in his house?"
"He owns more clothes than I do," Elle said.
"Elle…" Hotchner wasn't in the mood for levity.
"Sorry, but no. I mean, I haven't been there very much, but we couldn't see anything that stood out. He needs to vacuum and his plants are dying, but other than that, everything looked fine."
"We haven't found anything in the old case files," Reid informed the group. "Nothing that stands out anyway. There are always threats, but you know…"
The others nodded. They did know. A majority of the threats that were made against agents were from anger and desperation in the arresting moment, and those were very rarely taken seriously, even though they were always dutifully noted in the case file.
"I think we should go further back," Reid continued. "Morgan was in law enforcement a long time before he joined the BAU. And acts of revenge are always executed either immediately after the fact, when the perceived hurt is still fresh, or after a long time of simmering and planning. This unsub can just as likely be his first arrest as his last."
"That's a lot of people," Elle said.
"Yeah," Hotchner agreed. "So we need to build a profile that narrows it down. What can we tell from the M.O.?"
"The breaking in when no one was home and poisoning both suggests a woman." Gideon said. "Men are typically more hands-on when it comes to revenge. They want to see and feel it happen."
"Women are also more likely to take revenge on behalf of someone else," Elle added. "A child, parents, siblings, husbands… So we shouldn't limit our searches to cases where the unsub was female."
"That didn't exactly narrow anything down," JJ pointed out. "If the unsub can be either the perp or someone close to him or her, them we still need to look at every case Morgan's ever worked. What else is there?"
The room fell silent for a minute or so, until Hotchner started cursing in a very uncharacteristic display of emotions. When the others looked up at him with differing degrees of shock, he said angrily, "We're supposed to be good at this."
"We are good at this," Gideon told him firmly. "It hasn't been that long, we're making progress."
"Not that long? How do we know that? We don't know how long ago Morgan bought his chocolate. We have no idea how long ago the unsub planted the drugged candy bars. She could have been there yesterday or a month ago. She could be in South Dakota or even South Africa by now. And forensics didn't find any prints, or any physical evidence in Morgan's house, did they?"
He turned to JJ who was still clutching the forensic report. She quietly shook her head. There hadn't been anything there. But, "They weren't planted," she said.
"What?" Hotchner asked.
"The candy wasn't planted. They all belonged to the same batch. They were tampered with at the scene." She sounded almost scared when faced with Hotchner's outburst.
But Hotchner seemed to deflate, having vented his frustration. "I'm sorry," he said, sitting down and rubbing his hands over his face.
"It's okay, Hotch. We know…" Elle said, comforting him.
"Still, there isn't much to build a profile on," he said. "There are still too many uncertain variables."
"Well," Gideon said. "Then we'll just have to put the profiling on a backburner for now and look at this as FBI agents. There are other ways to solve a case. We follow the evidence and look for a suspect in the old cases. We'll break this." He said the last sentence with conviction in his voice.
"We're highly motivated anyway," Reid said quietly, but he wasn't sure if anybody heard him.
"We'll better start digging then," Hotchner said. "Reid, pull files from the early years, from graduating the academy and through his first assignments. Elle, you look into his undercover assignments, I'll take his years with the bomb squad. Gideon and JJ, you keep at our case files, see if there's anyone we need to be on the lookout for."
"There's still no evidence that there's any threat to the rest of the team," Elle pointed out.
"But that's not a risk I'm willing to take," Hotchner answered her. "We're checking everything. Get Garcia to help you if you have problems pulling the files."
"She's not here," JJ said.
"She's not at work?" Elle sounded surprised. She'd expected Garcia to put everything she had into this case.
"She went to the hospital," JJ said. "To sit with Morgan's mother."
Mrs. Morgan wasn't a woman who was easily frightened, or easily put down. She had married young and been widowed young, left alone with three devastated children. After that she had spent all her energy raising her children in a manner that would make sure that they were prepared for whatever the world threw at them. And so far it had been a success. Whatever hardships, whatever troubles, life had faced them with, in the end they had come out on the other side victorious. She had no doubt that her strong son would conquer this too. That didn't keep the worry away, however. Her little boy…
She looked up from her knitting when she heard a polite clearing of a throat behind her. Turning to the door she smiled politely at the nervous and anxious looking blonde in the doorway.
"Yes?"
"Mrs. Morgan, I'm Penelope Garcia, and I work with your son. We're actually rather good friends and…" She lost her train of thought as her eyes traveled over the many instruments taped to or inserted into Morgan's body.
"Well, come on in then, dear, don't just stand there."
Garcia warily walked towards the bed and stood hovering over it.
"It's okay to touch him," Mrs. Morgan told her.
"Does he… does he know we're here?"
"I'd like to think he does."
Garcia grasped the hand without an IV sticking into it and hugged it in both hers.
"Hey handsome," she said, trying to keep the tears out of her voice. "Are you planning on staying here long? 'Cause let me tell you, the office isn't nearly as fun without you. Elle just doesn't have your sense of humor, you know? So hurry up and get better, will you? We're all waiting for you."
Mrs. Morgan brought another chair close to the bed. She immediately liked this young woman; it would be good for Derek to have her here for a while.
Garcia gratefully sat down without releasing Morgan's hand.
Mrs. Morgan looked at her and smiled. "Did Derek ever tell you about the time he was twelve and brought two pet snakes home?"
Garcia shook her head, and then they let their warm and familiar voices wash over the comatose Morgan as they swapped stories from his life.
The morning progressed as the team spent hours on the phone cajoling archive clerks and watching their printers and fax machines as they spit out the sought-for information.
Reid kept a nervous eye on his watch and right before they normally started discussing what to order for lunch, he made excuses and left the office. He wandered around the grassy areas around the FBI building for about an hour, thinking hard about everything but the fact that he was famished.
When he came back and found the others in the midst of their meal, he lied and said that he had already eaten, even though the smell of food made his mouth water. Instead he twisted the top off a water bottle and joined them in discussing possible suspects.
"Here's one," Elle said, after swallowing a bite of her pasta salad. "Martin Rodriguez. Morgan busted him for murder, he shot his dealer. He got 25 to life. Apparently his mother made quite a scene in the court room and… no, wait. His mother's in a wheelchair after having a stroke right after the trial."
"Put it in the maybe pile anyway," Gideon suggested. "Maybe another relative wants double revenge, if they blame the stroke on the outcome of the trial." He sighed. They were having a really hard time excluding cases, there were too many possibilities.
They went round and round the table, all afternoon and evening, discarding some files, pegging others as possibilities. In the end, their list of possible suspects wasn't much smaller than the number of old case files they had gone through. They just didn't have enough information to rule anything or anyone out yet. They needed more, or another angle from which to look at the files.
Frustrated they broke for the night when it was nearing midnight and their stomachs reminded them that they hadn't had anything but coffee since lunch. Hotchner reluctantly sent them home, wishing them a better night than he was going to have. He still had vivid memories of the nightmare that had woken him up bathing in sweat last night. In his dream Morgan had been lying dead on the floor, next to a lifeless Reid who'd had the back of his head blown off. It had left him sleepless for the rest of the night. Luckily he'd been able to disguise it as paternal concern as Jack had been rather fussy. Haley had been glad to get the extra sleep.
He was quite amazed, however, with how well Reid seemed to be holding up. He'd been a little subdued during the day, not coloring their discussions with his usual ramblings. Although, almost being killed by a friend for 'talking too much' was due to put a damper on anyone.
He'd also withdrawn from the group, having chosen to eat lunch by himself rather that with them. Hotchner knew that Reid had had trust issues in the past. Was this another one of those? Was he uncertain about the team? If Morgan could go nuts and hurt him, was he afraid that the others could too? Or did he just want to lick his wounds in private? Or was it something else entirely? Hotchner was having a hard time reading him right now. He wasn't sure if he should push him into anything either, now that he seemed to be doing so well. He should probably have been in therapy already. Hell, the whole team should have gotten crisis counseling by now. He promised himself that he would call the department psychiatrist first thing in the morning… if he could remember to.
Back in his apartment Reid glanced at the turned-off laptop on his coffee table as he passed it. He was supposed to have researched flashbacks and how to counter them today, but there just hadn't been any time. Not that he begrudged that fact. Finding the unsub had to be his first priority, there was no way around it. And now it was late and he had a headache. And since taking pills was out of the question, he didn't think it would be a good idea to strain his eyes in front of a flickering screen.
'Well, two days without food won't kill me,' he thought as he headed off for a few hours of sleep.
***
When his alarm rang the next morning, Reid felt like he'd been sleeping on rocks. His whole body ached with tiredness. And yet, he'd slept soundly from the moment he went to bed until the alarm rang.
As he was shaving, his hands shook ever-so-slightly, causing a small nick just below his ear, but he put that off on the fact that he hadn't had his morning coffee yet. Besides, he had more important things to think about. He had an idea. He wasn't sure if the thought had come to him before he went to sleep, or if it had come during the night, but he had high hopes that the plan in its simplicity would pay off.
Wanting to get the earliest start possible, the team had agreed to meet at a diner to have breakfast while going over the latest progress. Reid was the last one there, and he ordered a coffee to go over the counter before sitting down with the rest of the team.
"Hey, Reid, we already ordered," Elle said.
"That's okay," Reid said dismissively. "Listen, I had an idea. What if Morgan isn't the first victim? Just because none of us has been hurt doesn't mean that Morgan was the first. We're already checking his old cases, so…"
"You think we should check his old partners and teams too?" Hotchner finished for him. "That's a good idea, Reid."
"But we haven't found any other murders with the same M.O. in any databases," JJ said.
"Maybe there aren't any," Reid said, trying to convey his idea. "Maybe she isn't a psychotic serial killer, but a motivated one. If the revenge is personal, then maybe it doesn't matter how the victims are killed. If she's smart, she's consciously using different M.O.'s to avoid being caught. But, I don't think we should check just on old partners. I think we should start looking into suspicious deaths within the law enforcement and the judicial systems in all jurisdictions and districts where Morgan's worked over the years and then cross-reference them against all cases and trials Morgan's been apart of."
Elle gaped at him. "Do you have any idea of how much work that would entail? How many people that is?"
"Does that really matter?" Reid asked.
"No, of course not. I just mean that it's going to take a lot of time, it's going to take a lot of time away from following other leads."
"Which is why I'm going to start right now. I'll go check in with Garcia. She'll be able to do this faster than any of us. I'll see you back at the office," Reid said and stood up as the others' food was brought to the table.
"Aren't you gonna eat breakfast?" Elle called after him.
"I'll do it tonight," he called back, already half-way to the door.
Elle turned to the others. "Was he even listening?" she asked with an upturned eyebrow. She only got shrugs for answers.
Garcia was not her jovial self. Her friendship with Morgan was maybe not easily defined, but it was real and it was strong. She was not taking this well. She had deep, dark circles under her eyes, testament to her late nights either in front of her computer screens squeezing every last bit of information out of them or seated in a lonely hospital room, as Morgan's aunt had dragged his mother out to get a good night's sleep at their place. She'd sat there, listening to Morgan's respirator wheeze air into his lungs, and thought desperate thoughts she'd hoped she'd never had to think. Her eyes were permanently red-rimmed as if she was having a hard time keeping her tears away, and she hadn't called anyone by an endearing epithet since the incident.
And she was uncomfortable around Reid. She knew it wasn't really his fault, but the black stitches in his lip and the thumbprint on his cheek bore clear testament of something Morgan would never do, of someone who Morgan would never be. Not her Morgan. She wanted to pretend that it had never happened and she was dead scared that she would lose Morgan over it. This place wouldn't be the same without him. A lot of things wouldn't be the same.
Reid had easily picked up on her discomfort and was giving her all the space he could, but the information he had her looking for was important, and she needed help to sift through it all, so he had spent all morning in her tense-filled office. Only when they talked about the case could they keep up the appearance of normalcy and therefore all other subjects were taboo. After having agreed on their search perimeters and gotten most of Garcia's special information shortcuts running red-hot in their haste to obey their queen bee, they had settled down quietly to analyze the lists they were being fed and delve deeper into those subjects who looked interesting and promising.
The others had been in to and fro during the day to check on their progress and update them on theirs, giving them more data to feed into their search and in return Reid had heaped them full of names to be checked out more thoroughly.
JJ had gone to the hospital directly after breakfast and had returned with the joyous news that even though Morgan was still in a coma, he'd been taken off the respirator and was breathing on his own. There had been some neurological tests done to determine if the coma was a product of brain damage, brought on by the massive onslaught of the amphetamine, but they had found no such signs. Things were looking up and the doctors were hopeful.
When Reid ventured out of the computer lab he found the rest of the team in the conference room, having lunch. He hadn't realized what time it was or he would've kept away a while longer. He thumped a huge stack of papers down on the table.
"Hey, Reid. We ordered for you too," Elle said, pointing to an unopened bag of hamburger and fries.
"Thanks," he said, even as the smell made his stomach sit up and take notice. "But Garcia and I have already eaten." He looked discreetly behind him to make sure Garcia wasn't there to bust his lie. In fact, they had taken a break so that she could go out and buy lunch for herself and Mrs. Morgan on her way to the hospital.
"What's in the cup?" he asked.
"Ice tea," JJ answered, handing him a Styrofoam cup.
He sipped the slightly bitter liquid before starting his report. "I'm beginning to think that dying of natural causes isn't at all very natural when you make your living upholding the law. But then again, that depends on what you call natural. Most forms of cancer do originate spontaneously in the body as do many other diseases…"
"Reid," Hotchner said. "Just tell us what you've been doing, please."
"Right. Garcia and I have been compiling the relevant employee records and cross-referenced them with autopsy reports, as suspicious deaths are always autopsied. We've eliminated all diseases and conditions that can't be faked or doctored, such as cancer, for example, and then we have started cross-reference those against unsolved cases and open investigations. We aren't quite finished, we still have the early years left, but as we speak we have two-hundred or so cases to look over. I've already started distributing them to you, and when you finish with the one you're doing, feel free to help yourself to a new one." He gestured to the pile of papers in front of him.
"I haven't really had time to start going over them, though. Have you?"
"I have," Gideon said. "I haven't found any that fits the profile of a female serial killer yet. Most of these unsolved cases are only unsolved because the suspect is on the run, but many times the police do have evidence linked to an identified suspect."
"Those are easy to rule out then," Hotchner said, feeling slightly content. Two-hundred were an awful lot, but considering the amount of case files they had been sifting through yesterday, it was definitely a significant improvement. "Anyone else?"
"I'm still working on the threat assessment," Elle said, "And I'd like to continue, if nothing else than to be able to warn other potential victims."
"I've been helping her," JJ said. "I've been contacting former partners and teams and picked their brains for potential suspects, but so far none of them have thought of anything that has them worried."
"You can start on Reid's files too, JJ," Elle told her. "I can manage the rest of the old threats by myself, they are mostly a formality anyway."
"Are you sure?" JJ asked.
When Elle nodded JJ leaned over the table and helped herself to several sheets of paper from Reid's pile.
They finished lunch at record speed and JJ and Hotchner split Reid's order of fries as well. Before they separated Hotchner informed them that the department psychiatrist would be there at four p.m. and that their presences were mandatory. He looked right at Reid when he said that and was unnerved by the way he refused to make eye contact and in fact tried to look like he hadn't been listening. So Hotchner demanded a verbal confirmation from each and every one of them that they would be back in the conference room by four before he dismissed them.
"Are you cold?" Elle asked as she and Reid were walking side by side back to their desks.
"Huh?"
"You haven't taken off your coat all day."
"I haven't?" Reid looked down on himself and found that she was right, but shrugged it off.
"It's winter," he said as a way of explanation.
But when he came to his desk he took the coat off and immediately felt a shiver of cold. He would have to dress more warmly tomorrow. Funny how he'd never noticed how cold the office was before, but he couldn't very well put his coat back on, not yet, Elle would notice. Right now, inconspicuous was to be his lead word.
Two heart attacks, a spousal abuse report, a lawyer shot by a client and an alleged hunting accident later, Reid stretched and sighed. This would be so much easier on Garcia's computers. He wondered if she was back yet. She'd said she'd only have a quick visit. This looked promising, though. A DA with cut break lines and no suspects… He dove back into his work.
Across from him Elle was on the phone with the parole officer of a recently released murderer and pyromaniac who had put forward threats to the entire bomb squad that Morgan had belonged to. The parole officer, however, was claiming that the man was a born-again Christian and posed no threat to anyone. Also, the rest of the bomb squad had been notified and they were all alive and well, except for a broken leg acquired during a mountain climbing weekend. They were at least now considered duly warned.
Gideon came down into the bullpen with a mission in mind. A mission that had already been stumped at so many occasions by an unwilling and stubborn young agent, but this time he wasn't taking no for an answer.
"Hey," he said, perching on the edge of Reid's desk.
"Hey," Reid replied, giving him only a quick glance before returning his focus to his work. "I haven't found…"
"So, how are you doing?" Gideon interrupted him.
Reid put down his pen, leaned back in his chair, laced his hands behind his head and met Gideon's eyes with a hint of challenge in the air.
"So this isn't a social call?" he remarked.
"Reid…"
"No, it's okay. I'm doing fine, Gideon. Really."
"Really? How are the nightmares?"
"I'm not having any. I'm sleeping pretty well. Maybe I'm just too tired to dream." That was actually true. He'd fallen into bed last night and been asleep before his head had hit the pillow. If he'd had nightmares, he didn't remember them, even though his crumpled sheets spoke their own language. His own theory was that because his anxieties had found another outlet, it was possible for him to sleep all night.
"So you're doing fine?"
"I'm doing fine."
"I'm not so sure that's a good thing."
"Excuse me?" Reid frowned, bringing his hands down and sitting up straight.
"Reid, even though it wasn't his fault, a very good friend of yours did…"
"I don't want to talk about it." Reid's voice turned cold as he stood up and started gathering his things.
"Reid…"
"I said no. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to see if Garcia is back yet."
He walked away, leaving Gideon still sitting on his desk, looking after him with thoughtful eyes.
"It'll be okay, Gideon. He'll come around," Elle said, seated at her desk behind his back. She had watched the exchange with a lump of unease in her stomach. "When he's ready to talk, you know he'll come to you now that Morgan's…" She broke off, not knowing how to describe Morgan and Reid's relationship anymore. "Besides, the department psychiatrist will be here this afternoon."
"And do you think we'll get Reid to go and see him?" Gideon asked rhetorically.
True to Gideon's prediction, four o'clock came around and Reid was a no-show. When he showed up a couple of hours later, with dust in his hair, he claimed that he had completely lost track of time as he'd been doing manual research in the FBI's library and archive.
Hotchner was working very hard to keep his temper in check as he called Reid into his office. Pointing to the chair he wanted Reid to sit in, he himself refrained from going around the desk to sit in his usual chair and instead sat in the other visitor's chair, facing Reid. Right now he wanted to be a friend, or at least a friendly boss, rather than just a boss.
"So what happened? Where did you go?"
"I told you, I went to the…"
"…library, yes you told us. But I'm having a hard time seeing it as a coincidence, Reid. I think it's fairly obvious that you didn't want to see Dr. Ramirez. Why not? You've met him before, right? After the Dowd and Bryar incidents, right?"
"Sure. I've got nothing against Dr. Ramirez. He's a great guy. Good at his job…" Reid said, fiddling with the zipper on his coat.
"So, was it us? Didn't you want to talk while we were there? Because you could have just asked for a private session."
"I don't see why it's so important," Reid said, still looking everywhere but at him.
Hotchner sighed and resisted the urge to lean over and grab Reid's hands to keep them still. Why was he wearing his coat anyway? The library was in the same building, he wouldn't have had to go outside.
Of course he realized that this would be much harder for Reid than for the rest of them. He hadn't forgotten the look of total disbelief and raw fear on Reid's face as he'd stood there with a gun in his mouth. Which is why he found it so difficult to understand why Reid wouldn't accept a little professional help.
"Look," Hotchner said pointedly. "It's protocol, and you know that just as well as I do. And I think it'll be good for you. I thought it was very liberating to get to talk it out in a non-judgmental environment. We all did. But we missed you. It's important to us too, you know, to know how you're doing."
"I'm doing just fine, Hotch, you don't have to worry. But if it's that important to you, I'll go see Dr. Ramirez."
"Well, I'm glad to hear you say that, because I took the liberty to make an appointment for you tomorrow morning, 9 o'clock, in his office. And I will know if you don't keep it."
Reid looked at him with a pained, fed-up look and Hotchner fleetingly wondered if Reid had ever had the chance of rebelling as a teenager, or if he had that to look forward to. Hotchner felt a need to smooth things over.
"Listen," he said, leaning forward and putting a hand on Reid's knee. "We've made some great progress today. You've done some exceptional work. Why don't you take an early night and try and relax. Have a nice dinner, get some real sleep? We'll start fresh in the morning."
"It's not necessary," Reid said, slightly panicked at the thought of his lonely and quiet apartment. "I can stay a little longer."
"No, go home. I will. It's time we had a little break. We've been at it for almost three days now. Go home, Reid. You deserve it."
So Reid went. As he sat in front of his TV he thought of all the set dinner tables across the country and envied those lucky enough to be able to enjoy them. He thought of Hotchner and Haley's dining room table with flickering candles and wine glasses. He thought of how Elle and JJ would go out for dinner together at times, both claiming to be too lazy to cook. Gideon would cook though, he thought. He envisioned the man in his kitchen, surrounded by soft jazz music, chopping vegetables. Then he thought of the takeout Garcia would be bringing Mrs. Morgan at the hospital. The thought of food was becoming torturous, so he had a soda and then he drank water until he felt full.
But at least he was not without distraction. He had to figure out what to say and how to act when he met Dr. Ramirez in the morning. The doctor was a smart man, good at his job, but Reid had to be better. He had to pull the wool over his eyes enough to be able to stay on the case, or all his sacrifices up 'til now would be for nothing.
He couldn't let that happen.
***
"You are in a hurry," Dr. Ramirez noted from his comfortable armchair.
"Why do you say that?" Reid wanted to know.
"Because, when I asked you to sit down, you sat on the armrest of the chair."
Reid looked down and guiltily slid into the armchair turned towards Dr. Ramirez.
The office was warm and inviting. Dr. Ramirez never talked to his clients, as he liked to call them, from the other side of an impersonal desk, instead choosing to use the more comfortable group of leather sofa and armchairs. Dr. Ramirez himself was the very epitome of his profession. Being in his mid-fifties, with a bald head, a beard and a tweed jacket, the only thing missing was a glowing pipe, but he'd given up smoking years ago.
"So, why are you in a hurry?" he asked casually.
"As you well know, we're in the middle of a big case. We're trying to find the unsub that hurt Morgan. Don't you think that's important?" Reid said, sounding defiant.
"Of course it is. And I can understand why you want to be there, but I'd like to think that this is important too and I can't help but wonder why you didn't show up for our appointment yesterday."
"Your priorities aren't the same as mine, doctor."
"And what of the priorities of your team? They missed you at the session yesterday."
Reid sighed and looked down, figuring that he'd played the hostility card to its end. Time to start cooperating.
"I know. I'm sorry. I just didn't want them to think any less about me," he said, looking as pitiful as he could.
"And why do you think they would do that?"
"Because I screwed up. I should've been able to do something. I should've helped him."
"Agent Morgan? How?"
Reid got up and walked over to the window, looking out. This morning's sleet had turned into a steady drizzle, but the wind had picked up and was beating the light rain against the window.
"I was standing with my back to him… I was lecturing him. If I'd been having a normal conversation with him, then I would've been looking at him when I talked to him…"
"What do you think would've changed? You didn't know the candy bar was drugged, how could you've stopped him from eating it?"
Reid turned back towards him, a hint of mist in his eyes, which had gotten there from him pulling out a hair on his arm when he'd been turned away.
"Maybe he'd still have eaten the candy bar and maybe he wouldn't… or maybe he would've shared it with me. Then it wouldn't have hit him so hard… he wouldn't be in a coma. The risk of brain damage would've been much less. Or if I'd just been looking at him when I talked, letting him get a word in every once in awhile, then I would've seen that something was wrong. I could've called for help. He could've gotten help sooner."
"That's pure speculation, Dr. Reid. No one can predict what could've happened. You say you wanted to help him, to get him help. Perhaps you also wish that you could've stopped him?"
"From eating the candy bar?" Reid asked, playing dumb, knowing full well that that wasn't what Dr. Ramirez was saying.
"From attacking you. How do you feel about that?"
Reid shrugged. "In his condition, he couldn't really help himself. I'm sure he never wanted to hurt me. Morgan's one of the good guys."
"And does that make it right?" Dr. Ramirez asked.
"Well," Reid said, putting on the submissive persona he'd often encountered when interviewing victims of domestic abuse. "I was kind of baiting him. Let's face it, I can be rather annoying on a good day. If I'd been a normal person…" He bit his lip, wondering if he'd gone too far, but Dr. Ramirez simply looked ponderingly at him.
"Do you think he had the right to pull a gun on you?"
"Of course not, I'm just saying that under the circumstances… normally he'd just have teased me a bit, but with that much amphetamine in his body… I can't really blame him. I would've probably wanted to shut me up as well, had I been him. It wasn't his fault."
He chanced a look at the doctor under his eyelashes and congratulated himself. He had him just where he wanted him.
Reid left Dr. Ramirez's office feeling rather pleased with himself. The session had gone on for another hour or so and Reid had spent it weaving his story expertly around the emotions Dr. Ramirez was expecting him to have. In the end Dr. Ramirez had diagnosed him as a friend feeling guilt over a situation he had no control over. A mild case of survivor's guilt, he'd called it. The keyword being mild. Mild meant he could stay on the case. Mild meant no enforced sick leave, just some emotional exercises and a follow up session in a week.
It wasn't as if he'd outright lied, it was more like obfuscation. He'd just embellished some things and downplayed others. He wasn't very proud of having manipulated Dr. Ramirez like that, he just had to make sure the meeting would end the way he wanted it to. Besides, Dr. Ramirez felt like he'd helped him. That should count for something. He would probably have to go up and apologize to the psychiatrist once this was over, and after that he doubted the doctor would ever consent to see him as a patient again. But he'd just done what he'd considered necessary right now.
On his way up to the BAU floor, Reid joined Hotchner in the elevator. Hotchner was still in his slightly damp overcoat, folding an umbrella. He looked up as Reid got on.
"You've been to Dr. Ramirez, I see," Hotchner said, noting the number of the floor.
"I have," Reid confirmed noncommittally.
"How did it go?"
"I'm not committed, am I?" Reid answered nonchalantly.
"Reid," Hotchner said, sounding very disapproving.
"Sorry, bad joke."
"I'm coming from the hospital," Hotchner volunteered.
"Oh?"
"He's doing better all the time."
"That's good."
"Mrs. Morgan asked about you…" At that moment the elevator stopped on their floor and the doors opened. On the other side was Elle.
"Oh good, you're here," she said, tugging Reid along with her. "I think I've found a potential victim, and so does Gideon. Didn't you say you had one too? Want to see if they fit together?"
"Sure."
Soon they were huddled over the files, making comparisons, before Reid took them to Garcia to make sure every last detail got squeezed out of them.
"Hey, Reid. JJ and I are going out for lunch, do you want to come?" Elle asked him as he
ventured out of the computer lab to find a fresh water bottle. As all liquids containing large amounts of sure-to-stick-to-all-surfaces sugar or those not securely contained in a twist top bottle were strictly forbidden in Garcia's office, he hadn't had anything else all morning.
"No thanks, I had a big breakfast. I'll just grab something from the break room later."
"Are your sure?"
"Absolutely. You have fun though. Bring me back some decent coffee, okay?"
"Okay, see you later."
"Bye."
When the team trickled back into the office after lunch, Reid was ready to make his presentation.
Elle came into the conference room last, distributing lidded Styrofoam cups of coffee.
"How is he?" Gideon asked, and Reid realized that she and JJ had been to the hospital on their way back.
He felt a stab of guilt. They had all take time to sit with Morgan, before and after work and on their lunch breaks. All but him. He couldn't bring himself to go back into that hospital room. He wouldn't be able to touch Morgan, and what would he say? How would he talk to Morgan's mother? Did she know what had happened? What her son had done?
"They're hopeful. They think he'll wake up soon," Elle said.
That was great news, and another ounce dissipated from the burden on their shoulders. Only Reid didn't completely share their joy. Of course he wanted Morgan to get better, but at the same time, the coma posed a status quo he wasn't quite ready to give up yet.
"Judge, DA, defense lawyer." Reid said, to break the spell. On the whiteboard he'd fastened photos of all three victims, and he pointed to each photo as he spoke. "All active in the Chicago judicial system when Morgan was working there, all of them dead within the last twelve months under suspicious circumstances."
"But they weren't drugged, right?" Elle asked, having been the one who found the judge's file.
"No, the M.O. is different in all three cases," Reid said. "Michael Trenton was a judge with political ambitions. Getting ready to launch a mayor candidacy actually. The gas valve in his house was broken, he died in his sleep. His wife found him as she was coming home after a weekend at her sister's. The police suspected foul play, but they could never prove anything.
"Lester Holt was only a prosecutor when Morgan worked there, but became a D.A. a little over a year ago. He lost control of his car and crashed into a tree. Forensics found that his break lines had been cut. The police never found a suspect, the case is still open.
"Now, the defense lawyer gets interesting. His name was Benjamin Barber, known to his friends as Benny-B. He was a public defender, before he managed to get hired by a big-name firm and he was on the fast track to make partner. He was divorced and had shared custody of his kids with his ex-wife. They lived with him every other week. The day he picked his kids up for his week with them, he came home and reported a break-in, having seen someone run away from his house. Nothing was stolen, but he said that things in his basement had been moved around. A week later, the night he'd brought the kids back to his ex-wife, he died after falling down the basement stairs and breaking his neck. The police found a trip wire at the top of the stairs and a smashed light bulb in the stair. The ex-wife was a suspect for awhile, but they ruled her out. They never caught anyone."
"Well," Elle said. "The unsub does seem to go out of her way not to hurt others than her intended target. The weekend the judge's wife was gone, the aborted attempt when the lawyer's kids were at home... She did leave the candy in Morgan's house. She probably expected him to eat them there. If he had, Re… I mean, no one else would've been hurt."
"And if he had," Reid reminded her, "No one would have been able to save him." He'd never thought Morgan's assault on him would turn out to be a good thing.
"What about Holt, then?" JJ asked. "Cut break lines, he could've killed a lot of people."
Gideon, who had been the one to identify Holt as a potential victim, shook his head. "He was at his hunting cabin, which stood on top of a hill in the middle of the forest. There wasn't another car around for miles."
"She's very careful," Elle said, "And very well-informed. She must've been keeping her victims under surveillance, studied them, learned their habits."
"All the murders were passive," Gideon noted. "She set them up beforehand so she didn't have to be on site for any of them. She didn't have to get her hands bloody. She obviously feels righteous in her actions, but she does not take any pleasure from them. It's as if she sees them as a necessary evil. I think we can safely conclude that she's taking revenge on someone else's behalf. Personal revenge tends to more tortuous for the victims. These men died quickly."
The others nodded, agreeing. Finally, something to build a profile on. This was what they knew. This was what they were good at. Nothing told them as much about an unsub as her victims.
"She's careful and methodical," Hotchner continued. "She would be respected and well-liked at her workplace, but she's not in a management position, most likely she has an administrative position. She'll work for a big company, where she can be well-known to a small section of the employees, but where she can still be anonymous to the rest, which is just the way she wants it to be. She doesn't want to stand out."
"Single," Elle filled in. "The judge's dog was found on the porch, even though the wife said he always slept indoors. The unsub has pets, probably as a surrogate for a family of her own. She's very family oriented. She's probably in her late thirties to early forties and is feeling like the chance of a family of her own has slipped her by. She's killing on behalf of a family member, a father, a brother, an uncle perhaps? She's killing for him because family is everything, and these men, Trenton, Holt, Barber and Morgan, they have taken hers away, one way or the other. She can't live with that."
They suddenly all quieted at the same time, milling over the profile. What else to add? What could they say with certainty at this point?
In the quiet room the sudden rumble of Reid's stomach was quite audible and he smiled embarrassed, folding his arms protectively over his stomach. Hotchner raised a questioning eyebrow at him.
"I'm fine. I just missed breakfast today," Reid said with a sheepish grin.
Elle looked at him, surprised.
"But you told me..:"
"I'll go get something after the meeting," Reid promised, cutting Elle off.
"See that you do," Hotchner admonished him.
"How many of Morgan's cases were the victims all involved in?" JJ asked.
"We've found five different cases." Reid started handing out thick files of photocopies to the others. "Our unsub's in here somewhere."
"The most recent case is from almost eight years ago, the oldest ten years ago." Elle noted.
"And the murders have happened within the last year. So that's our timeframe," Hotchner said.
"Okay, everybody grab a case and look into it. We'll meet back here in three hours," Gideon said, dismissing them.
Reid ponderingly looked over his choices. Soda, juice and water bottles. He didn't even bother to look at the other vending machines. He finally settled for juice. Vitamins are vitamins, right? he thought, and then he cringed. He was even lying to himself now. He bought two juice packs and swallowed the first in one big gulp. He could swear he heard it splash as it landed in his stomach, which immediately cramped up in shock, making him double over as he waited for the pain to dissipate. He wished feverishly that no one would come in and find him like this. But the cramps subsided without him being discovered.
The second juice box he sipped much slower.
Elle cornered Reid as soon as he stepped foot outside the break room.
"You told me you had a big breakfast today," she said, glaring at him.
"I did."
"But you told Hotch that you'd missed breakfast."
"A slip of the tongue," Reid said quickly. "I meant to say lunch, that I missed lunch. After you guys left I got caught up and forgot about it."
"How stupid do you think I am?" Elle looked accusingly at him.
"Really, I had breakfast and missed lunch. I swear. Besides I've eaten now, haven't I?" As if to prove his point he sucked the last of the juice from the carton with a slurping sound, before throwing it in the trash.
"It's nice of you to worry, Elle, but completely unnecessary. I'm fine. I just missed lunch."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive. Everything's great… well maybe not great, but you know…"
Elle still looked slightly suspicious as he left her.
They met back in the conference room, tired but hopeful. They were closing in on their unsub, and they knew it.
"Well," Elle started. "We can write my case off. The defendant got off. It was an attempted murder, but the prosecution failed to prove it. I could check into the victim, if he's feeling vengeful, but seeing as how the defendant is alive and kicking, why would someone want to kill our victims?"
"In my case the defendant got off on probation and community service," Reid said. "It was a first offense, breaking and entering. He did end up in prison later on, but that was in a different state. I can't see anyone being interested in revenge on his behalf."
"My case features a nineteen-year-old who was involved in an armed robbery against a liquor store, which ended in murder as the cashier was killed," Hotchner said. "Even though the kid wasn't the shooter, he refused to give his accomplishes up and they were never caught. He was sentenced to eight years for robbery and accomplice to murder. Got probation after five and…" he grimaced, "…hanged himself in his bedroom eight months later. It's a definite possibility and we'll look into his relatives."
"Mine's another bust," JJ said. "Possession of drugs with intention to sell, first offense. Got six months and is now living a happy life with a wife and two kids. Owns a restaurant with his brother. Has stayed out of trouble ever since."
"I've got a cop killer," Gideon said. "Life without parole. Big family, well-connected. We'll check into it, but I don't think it's him. Why would someone wait eight years over a lifer?"
"Well, this is real progress," Hotchner said, feeling pleased with his team. "Someone needs to pick the brains of the investigators in the other murders, and the others will look into the families of Henry Arden and…" He looked to Gideon for the name of the cop killer.
"…Martin Fells," he supplied.
"Right. Good job, gu…" Hotchner's cell phone rang, cutting him off mid-sentence. He answered.
"Yes?"
A moment later he looked up at the others.
"Morgan's awake."
***
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