Criminal Minds 1. Solivagant

**Disclaimer: I do not own or make a profit off of the characters of Criminal Minds. This disclaimer applies to the whole story.**

**Spoiler Alert: There will be spoilers for all 9 seasons throughout this story. Don't read, especially if you haven't watched the season 9 finale.**

**Hi Friends!  
**

**Welcome to my newest adventure. I hope you enjoy it. **

**FYI - I am well aware the J.L. Hewitt is joining the cast next season but my story is set in between that transition from Season 9 to Season 10. There will be no mention of her character in this story. The agent (who we will meet in the next chapter) is purely a creation of my own.**

**Please forgive any mistakes.**

**Enjoy!**

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_I know that all your life the people you care about the most keep leaving, and there's a part of you that thinks it's because of that brain…_

The words that he spoke to Diane Turner echoed in his head as he sat all alone in the dimly lit conference room.

The genius had been at work since the wee hours of the morning trying to keep busy. Lately sleep had been evading him and his mind had been wandering into dark territory. So instead of just lying in bed letting his thoughts depress him even more, he got up and came to work. Unfortunately, he ran out of consultations to complete over a half hour ago. Now he found himself falling back into the recesses of his mind as he waited for the rest of his team to arrive.

Today, unfortunately, was the day that they were going to welcome a new probationary agent into the group. Today was the day that he was going to be expected to open his arms to another new person that was just going to leave him, just like everyone else. Today was the day that he was going to put on a mask of indifference and offer a weak welcoming smile. Because, to be honest, the world-weary agent didn't want to put forth the effort the meet someone new again.

_It's because of that brain…_

Reid twirled a pen in between his thumb and index finger absentmindedly as he reflected on that statement. When he had uttered those words he had been under duress. He had been trying to verbalize the thoughts that he knew were flowing through Diane's head. His point was to show her that he understood what she was going through. That there was someone else out there that was experiencing the same thing.

And wasn't that the truth?

If he thought about every person that had chosen leave him behind, couldn't he in some way, shape, or form blame his brain for their departure?

Yes.

Yes, he could.

He could go all the way back to the beginning and start with the first and deepest abandonment. The one that cut him to the core and changed his life forever, his father's.

William Reid was the first person to set the trend of leaving Spencer in motion. It was funny, Spencer had tried so hard to be the son that any father would be proud of. He struggled through tee-ball, cooked dinner, took care of the house, tried to teach his dad how to play chess, and even started up conversations about all of Isaac Asimov's novels. But none of it had been good enough for the man. No matter what he did there always seemed to be a wall built up between them that Spencer could never figure out how to breach. So it wasn't too surprising when William decided to pack up and leave. The coward cited the fact that dealing with his son's intelligence was too challenging, especially when coupled with the stresses of being married to a schizophrenic wife who wouldn't take her medication. Spencer shuddered when he thought about how that was the day that his feelings of inadequacy had been cemented deep into the foundation of his soul.

His mother was the next to leave him behind. Of course, it wasn't her fault. If given a choice she would have never abandoned her son to this cruel world. But alas, schizophrenia doesn't care whether or not its victim has responsibilities. So the young man had been forced to witness the gradual deterioration of his mother's mind and his presence with it. Eventually the disease left behind a shell of what was once his mother and the occasional "good day" when she would remember who he was. If only he had been able to figure out some way to combat the illness. Perhaps if he had been a better caretaker, kept everything more organized, enforced her routine a bit more than he would have had more time with her.

Alas, he closed himself off after he lost his mother. He didn't really let anyone else get close to him. The only person that even had a chance was his friend from school, Ethan. But even he deserted Reid on the first day of academy without an explanation. It was years later that Reid learned that Ethan left to fight his own demons. Yet still, deep down the profiler wondered if there was anything he could have done to keep his friend around.

Of course, the younger agent didn't let the continuous abandonment defeat him. But as the years went by more and more people enter and exited the genius's life. Each time the profiler had found a way to blame their desertions on himself. Each time he wished he could go back and do something different in order to keep them around.

For instance, perhaps if he would have just told Hotch or Gideon about Elle's depression she would still be on the team. No matter what Morgan said about Elle making her own choices, Reid knew that it was partially his fault. If he would have just ignored his conscience telling him to keep her confidence than the choice to kill that man may have never presented itself. Hotch might have taken her out of the field and Elle wouldn't have had that man's blood on her hands.

Then there was Gideon's sudden departure. That one cut almost as deep as his father's. In fact, that man had practically become his father throughout their time together. He had acted like he cared about Reid. The grizzled profiler had lulled the genius into a sense of security and gained his trust. He had actually felt safe to be himself around the other man and let his eccentricities show. He had gobbled up Jason's words like they were life giving sustenance and depended on the man's sage advice and guidance. There was nothing that Spencer wouldn't have done for that man. But then, just like with his real dad, his love and admiration weren't enough to keep his mentor around.

Though he did leave Reid a letter explaining it all in his cryptic sort of way. Right, because that made the desertion easier to handle. Like the man's words as he rambled on about how he didn't understand the world anymore and how he wished to seek out proof of happy endings would assuage the genius's pain. Or how about the fact that there was no remorse for leaving his surrogate son behind, only regret that he didn't have a better explanation for his feelings. The man didn't even bother to apologize for leaving Reid's fragile soul high and dry. He only used the two most meaningless words in the world, "I'm sorry," to try to heal the gaping wound he viciously tore into Reid's barely mended soul.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what? I'm sorry for the fact that you weren't a good enough reason to make me stay and work through my issues. I'm sorry that I shattered your confidence in your ability to mean something to someone. I'm sorry that I'm too much of a coward to say this to your face. I'm sorry that your brain couldn't figure out how to save that girl in time and stop this from triggering my departure? I'm sorry…

After that Reid had reapplied his emotional shields. He pushed them up higher and refused to let anyone new infiltrate his defenses. Unfortunately, his remaining coworkers had already weaseled their way in and the best he could do with them was stay guarded.

His plan went well for a while, but then David Rossi entered his life. He could tell right from the start that the man found him obnoxious and annoying, so Reid had tried to keep his relationship with that man purely professional. Then, as is always the case with repeated exposure, the older man came to replace his previous mentor.

Then for a while Reid felt like he was finally getting away from the curse of abandonment, but then along came Ian Doyle. The international terrorist that killed one of his best friends and nearly sent Spencer crawling back to drugs.

Again, the genius blamed himself for seeing the signs of a troubled friend and not doing anything about it. He was too caught up in his headaches to take the time to delve into Emily's strange behavior. If he had then maybe he could have pushed her into revealing Doyle's threats earlier. Then the team could have had more time to compile a plan to keep her safe and bring Doyle in to justice. If his brain had been more tuned to his friend's feelings than his own she might have never died.

But that's just it…she didn't die.

She came back.

She came back and he stupidly let her in again.

Only this time, he could tell that she wasn't really with him. He knew when he gazed into her eyes that the sparkle that once shined bright was gone. He just didn't want to admit to himself that she never truly came back. So, he went along with her façade and acted like all was well. Sadly, the knowledge of her emotional disguise did not lessen the blow when she announced her decision to accept the job in London. It was just another nail in the coffin that encased Reid's lonely soul.

And that took him to the most traumatizing of all his recent losses, Maeve. The one loss that he could guarantee was his fault. The one loss that showed him that no matter how much he tried to cultivate positive things into his life he just wasn't destined to be happy.

Looking back at his relationship with Maeve he could pinpoint so many specific instances where his intervention could have saved her life. He should have ignored her wishes and brought his team in to help the second he found out she had a stalker. He should have…he should have done something…anything…but instead he did nothing. He just stood by and allowed her to handle the situation and that folly had led to her ultimate demise.

Of course, that was all on top of the fact that he botched the one chance he had at rescuing her. Reid's genius brain had let him down and caused him to come up lacking on passion during his kiss with Diane. Well that and the fact that Diane caught his eyes straying over to his bound girlfriend while they were fully immersed in their liplock.

So yeah…it was his fault she left. He could have stopped it. He could have prevented all of the losses in his life. The problem was that he hadn't. Each time the opportunity presented itself he came up short. Either his genius brain caught on to the problem to late or his insecurities and self-doubt kept him from taking the proper course of action.

And now there was a fresh wound to add to his already marred spirit, Alex Blake. Alex, the newest face to join the team. She had only been around for the past two years, but his history with her went back a bit further. He had so excited when he had heard that she was joining the team. The socially awkward agent finally didn't have to go through the painful getting-to-know-you period with a complete stranger. He found that he took to working with her like water. Their brains were immediately in sync with one another and they were able to play off of each other's strengths. It was amazing how liberating it felt to have a personality so close to his on the team. Finally someone that didn't make fun of him for his nerdy tendencies, rather she embraced them.

How was he to know that she was secretly seeing him as her surrogate son? Even if he did know, would it have made a difference? No, because Reid was flattered that she could imagine her son being like him. It felt good to know that someone out there saw his characteristics as desirable. Regrettably, that mother-son connection proved to be too much for Alex. Spencer had played the part of her son too well and his near fatal injury opened wounds in her mind that had barely healed. She just couldn't stand being around him and the rest of the team after nearly losing one of them to an unsub's bullet.

The kicker about the whole Blake situation was the fact for once Reid wouldn't have changed a thing. He was glad that he pushed her out of the way of that bullet. There was no way that he would have ever allowed her or anyone else on his team die when he could stop it. And if Blake leaving the team was the consequence of that choice, than this was the one time that he would gladly take it.

At least she actually said goodbye…

Reid heaved a great sigh as he looked around the empty room. Each chair that surrounded the round table was reserved for his teammates. The people that still remained in his life physically but not mentally anymore. Because the more the genius thought about it, the more he realized his supposed friends were slowly withdrawing from him too. Whether or not they were doing it on purpose remained to be seen.

Each one of the group had endured some sort of sorrow or trial lately, and none of them had been turning to their resident genius for support. Before, the youngest profiler would have been the only go-to person for everyone. They would tell him all their secrets and divulge their troubles knowing that Spencer would keep them classified.

Now…well now, they all had someone else to turn to. Hotch had Beth to lean on and Jack to love. The stoic man no longer randomly opened up to the genius, like he had about Haley so long ago. The unit chief had found another ear to spill his secrets too.

Garcia was lost in her own drama, dealing with her unrequited love of Kevin and her new man Sam. Of course, the agent knew that he wasn't the best choice when it came to advice on matters of the heart, but in the past she would at least confide in him while he listened and lent his support.

Rossi…well Rossi was practically in the same boat as Reid. The man had lost two of the women he loved most in the world in unspeakable ways over the last three years. On top of that, the senior profiler had actually made a point of trying to help Reid through his grief while pushing his own aside. Anyways, Reid knew that Rossi needed another fresh young face to take under his wing. It helped the other man feel needed and gave him an outlet for all of his knowledge and experience.

JJ is probably the person that has socially withdrawn from Reid the most, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. After her hand in covering up Emily's death their relationship had never fully repaired. That was in addition to her newly revealed secrets about her time away from the BAU. The team was still reeling from the revelations of what happened to her overseas. As a consequence of all her intrigues, Reid was still wary of any of the blonde's actions and intentions. Meanwhile, she was still licking her wounds from when he had tried to push her away. They both knew deep down that their relationship would never go back to the way it was before, and rightfully so.

Finally, there was Derek Morgan. Out of all of the members of Reid's team, it was Morgan's withdrawal that hurt the most. The man was the closest thing that Spencer had to a best friend, to a brother. He had never leaned on anyone as much as he did Morgan. The dark agent was the only person that had seen the genius at his weakest and the only one who knew the majority of his secrets. Their bond had been forged under the pressure of the job and the heat of need. The two of them had linked together slowly over the course of many gruesome cases and before they knew it they were the closest of friends.

But not anymore…

Naturally this change in their relationship was not a surprise to Reid, but it still hurt all the same. Morgan had started his retreat a few years ago when he had stepped in to become acting unit chief while Hotch was healing. The man moved out of the bullpen and took over the huge responsibility of running the team. Not surprisingly, Derek couldn't maintain casual friendships while he tried to prove his worth to Strauss. Thus he took a step back from all of his friendly relationships and tried to be more professional and less personal. Spencer never once held that against the man; he understood that Morgan needed to separate himself from his subordinates, just like Hotch always did. Though, the genius had expected Morgan to come back to him when their unit chief was healthy enough to return. That, sadly, did not happen and now Reid remained the only agent down in the bullpen all by his lonesome. It was a shining example of how everyone else had moved away from him while he remained in the same place.

Then, this past year Morgan finally ended his womanizing ways and found a lovely lady to settle down with. This new turn of events had surprised the genius. But realistically, Reid had never expected his friend to stay single forever. He had just hoped that his best friend wouldn't forget him once he found the woman of his dreams. As of right now though, Derek has shown that his focus is solely on Savannah and besides the occasional double date with Penelope he has no room for his other friends, namely Reid.

Again though, can Reid blame him for wanting to make sure this thing between him and Savannah lasts? No, he can't. What type of friend would he be if he wished that Morgan's relationship went bust? A horrible one. But then…is he allowed to at least wish that his friend would make more time for him? He just didn't know.

So here he was now…sitting by himself in a dark conference room waiting for the people he at one time considered family to come and join him. His abandonment issues flourishing in the dismal surroundings as he realized that he, Spencer Reid, was meant to walk this world alone. If he wanted to survive much longer than he needed to stop becoming so emotionally invested in the people around him. Because if there was one thing that he had learned throughout his past thirty-two years it was that people don't stay. His so called friends and family are fated to leave him behind to fend for himself. And he would too, for it was what he has always done. He was a solivagant; one who was meant to wander this world alone.

_It's because of that brain..._

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**So this chapter was written purely to show you where Reid's mindframe is for this story. In the next chapter we will meet the new probationary agent and get a little into his mind too.**

**Leave a note and let me know if your interested!**


	2. The Plan

**Hi Friends!**

**Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! I was so happy to see that so many of you are interested in this story. I wish I could have responded to each one of you but my darling daughter is taking up all of my time! I have only been able to write my chapters in between her short naps now :) Anyways, keep them coming I love hearing what you guys and gals have to say.**

**Warning: Some swearing, don't know if y'all care.**

**Please forgive any mistakes.**

**Enjoy!**

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Damien stared at the glowing numbers lighting up the screen on his alarm clock. The bright red light said that it was 5:30 a.m., a half hour before he was scheduled to wake up. The breaking sunlight was peeking through his window nullifying any attempts he made at returning to a peaceful slumber.

Who was he kidding though? Last night's sleep had been anything but peaceful. He had lain in bed for two hours before his eyes even thought about closing. He was just too nervous and anxious about what laid ahead of him today, his first day as a probationary agent on Agent Hotchner's BAU team.

It was a dream come true for the thirty-nine year old man. He had been working hard over the last eleven years in the FBI's financial crimes section by proving his worth, leading his own team, and closing a record number of investigations. Unfortunately, dealing with tax evasion, terrorism financing and embezzlement was not what Damien wanted to do with the rest of his life. He was tired of dealing with self-righteous greedy executives that thought the world should be handed to them on a platter. He never wanted to see another sanctimonious rich man flaunt his riches as he walked out of an interrogation room. It just ate at his soul when he was forced to let another man go because his overpriced lawyer found a loophole for his smarmy client.

Anyways, there was no fame to be had by putting away white collar criminals. The U.S. citizens didn't care about the dirty dealings of corporate America. The public was way more fascinated with serial killers and psychopaths. Upon realizing that, Damien had immediately decided to take any opportunity to make a career change that may come along. Therefore, when the position at the BAU opened up, he jumped on it. He knew that if he got that position he would be able to put his skills to better use and make a bigger name for himself. In fact, if he played his cards right and applied all his knowledge there was the possibility that he could go down as one of the best profilers of all time. So, the agent called in a few favors from his higher-ups and had them pull some strings to get him placed as a probationary agent in the BAU.

Of course, Damien knew that he could have gotten the placement on his own merit. Who wouldn't want to have him on their team? But he decided to call in the favors because applying for the position through the normal channels would have taken too long and someone less deserving might have gotten the post. Luckily his connections came through and in a matter of day's Section Chief Cruz called him up and informed him he would be starting on Monday.

So here he was, up earlier than necessary, anxious to get started on his new career path.

Snuffing in disdain at his brain's insistence at keeping him awake, Damien rolled out of bed and started his morning ritual. The stocky man shuffled down the hallway and into the kitchen, where he brewed a pot of coffee. While he was waiting for the water to percolate through the grounds he looked out the window and observed the waking city. He watched as an athletic woman jogged by on the sidewalk below his apartment, her bosom bouncing in a neon yellow tank while her tight ass poured out of a pair of black spandex shorts. His hand wandered down to his steadily growing belly at the sight, patting it in a reminder that he hadn't been exactly active lately. Maybe he should start hitting the gym at work? Or better yet, he could wake up earlier for a morning jog strategically timed to that young lady's schedule.

The overwhelming smell of roasted coffee beans brought him out of his musings and he quickly poured a steaming mug, adding some cream and two teaspoons of sugar. He then wandered back to his room, drink in hand, and started the show. While the water was warming he went to pick out his outfit for the day. He needed something impressive, perhaps designer, in order to make a suitable first impression.

Damien rifled through hanger after hanger of suit jackets and slacks, finally picking out a gray pinstriped Armani set paired with a cobalt blue button up shirt and diagonally striped tie. He chose a diamond studded tie tack and cufflinks to add some flare to his wardrobe choice. "If this doesn't impress them than I don't know what will," he muttered to himself, laying his outfit down on the bed.

By that time he noticed the steam slipping through the crack in the doorway separating the bathroom from the master bedroom. He stripped off his clothing, dropping each article on the floor on his way to the bathroom. Sarah, his maid, would pick them up later today.

The warm water felt invigorating as it trickled down his doughy body, fully waking him up for the day. In fact, he felt so good that he decided to take in a little pleasure at the neon tank jogger's expense before he stepped out to get ready.

Once his body had found its explosive release the agent got out of the shower and stood in front of the full length mirror. Damien moved his body side to side to get a good look of his proportions from all angles. Small condescending tsks escaped his mouth as he pinched the excess fat that had gathered around his belly. Hopefully working for the BAU would allow him to be more active while on the clock and help melt away these few extra pounds.

After successfully completing his grooming rituals he finally donned his designer suit. He stopped for a quick look in the mirror again to make sure all was well and headed out the door. When he entered the parking garage beneath his building he hit the automatic starter in his pocket and listened to his ruby red Mustang roar to life. As he slipped into his leather seats and gripped the cool wheel his mind was swirling with the things he needed to do today in order to impress his new coworkers and keep his new boss wanting more.

First and foremost Damien needed to impart his superior knowledge in math. He had been able to exercise his mathematical skills daily while working through all of those money laundering cases. He was great at pattern recognition and formula creation, not to mention his exceptional instincts when it came to spatial relations and reasoning. Ever since he had found out about his new position he had been applying his abilities to making mock geographic profiles for closed cases. Each time he completed one he compared it to the one in the case file. Most of the time he found that his practice maps were spot on with the legitimate ones. So his plan was to dazzle the team with his knack for creating geographical matrixes.

Second, he wanted to be quick to make friends with the other agents. His people skills were top notch, and he could practically guarantee that his new team would fully embrace him by the end of the week. Gaining and maintain that friendship would help him cement his position in the group.

Finally, and most importantly, he needed to show up at least one of the other agents. It was imperative that he pick the agent he perceived as the weakest and set a goal to outperform him or her. This approach would allow Damien to emphasize his importance to his new superior while shining a spotlight on the inadequacies of his chosen fellow agent. There would be no way Agent Hotchner could pass him up for a permanent position once he outperforms even one of the most seasoned profilers.

The probationary profiler stopped plotting his takeover of the BAU as he pulled into his parking spot. He needed to get his mind focused on today's objectives, assessing his coworkers' capabilities and making a good first impression.

He was so lost in thought that he almost missed getting off on the sixth floor when the elevator dinged. If the perky woman with a blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail hadn't bumped into him when she exited the lift he would have ridden it straight on up to the top.

"Oops, I'm sorry," she said over her shoulder as she got off, "I didn't mean to run into you."

"No worries," he said, walking right behind her. "I would have missed my floor without you."

"Well then, you're welcome," she replied before disappearing through the glass doors that lead to the BAU bullpen.

He grinned at her comment and allowed his eyes to indiscreetly travel over her body. His eyes lingering on her sumptuous ass tucked away in a cute black skirt. He knew he could get used to seeing a figure like that every day.

Damien broke his gaze away from the pretty sight and looked at his watch. He was right on schedule for his meeting with the big boss.

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Reid was roused from his depressing thoughts by the sound of Morgan's raucous laughter echoing down the hall. The genius, realizing that his cheeks were damp, quickly pulled down the burgundy sleeves of the turtleneck that he was wearing beneath his sweater vest and rubbed them across his face. The absorbent fabric soaked up the saltwater that had strayed down his cheeks just before the lights in the round table room flicked to life.

"Hey! Pretty boy, what are you doing sitting all alone in the dark?" asked his supposed best friend as he ushered Garcia into the room before him.

"Morning guys," the younger man said, ignoring the other agent's query.

"Morning," Garcia said shortly before busying herself at the coffee pot across the room.

"Hey, hey, hey, don't avoid the question," Morgan said, taking a seat next to the genius.

Reid, annoyed at Derek's prodding, decided to lie, "I was trying to take a nap. I got in early this morning and now it's catching up with me."

Derek flashed his pearly whites and said, "What? You mean there isn't enough coffee in your system yet to keep you awake?"

A small snort was Reid's only reply.

The muscular agent was about to turn his attention to the uncharacteristically quiet technical analyst when he realized that his friend's eyes were puffy and red. He lowered his voice and took on a soft tone, "Hey…are you alright? It looks like…you were…um…crying."

Spencer hands immediately shot up to his eyes and rubbed them vigorously, as if the action would wipe away traces of his earlier mood, "No…my contacts are just messing up. I've been soaking them in a new solution."

"Right…I thought you wore dailies?" he asked, calling the younger profiler out on his lie.

"I'm trying to save money by using them for more than one day," Reid refuted.

"Uh huh…Look, if you want to tell me what's really going through that brain of yours, I'm all ears."

"Yeah thanks, but really, I'm fine." the profiler said, angling his body away from Morgan's signaling that he was done with the conversation.

Derek was about to say something else when Rossi and JJ entered the room discussing the amount of case files currently inundating their inboxes.

Reid, thankful that the entrance of his other team members distracted Morgan, got up out of his seat and went to refill his coffee cup. He almost stopped though when he saw Garcia still standing there adding sugar to her Union Jack mug.

The genius had noticed that something had been off with the bouncy blonde lately. Her behavior, which was normally chipper and lively, seemed to dim whenever he came into the vicinity. For example, just yesterday she was in an animated conversation with Rossi over who was the better Beatle, Ringo or Paul, when Reid had walked up. Immediately she shut down the conversation by telling Rossi he was right, that Ringo ruled the world, and skittered away from the pair. Moreover, she had been keeping her conversations with the genius to a minimum and refused to make eye contact with him anymore. In fact, the only time they talked at all was when he had to call her for help on a case. Of course, based on his earlier reflection it was probably best if he just let this wall between them stay standing. Unfortunately, the genius's kind-hearted side hated to think that one of his friends was displeased with him and he resolved to bring up the issue with Garcia later, in a more private environment.

The brown-eyed boy turned back to the table, coffee in hand, and made his way to his vacant chair in between Rossi and Morgan. As he sat down in the cushioned seat, the doorway to the room darkened with the silhouette of his superior and the new agent.

The unit chief cleared his throat as he entered the room; it was his distinct way of calling his agent's to attention without saying a word. Behind him stood a well-dressed man sporting what looked to be a designer suit. He was a little under six feet tall with a receding hairline and a little extra fat around his waist. Based on the lines at the corners of his beady eyes and the sagging jowls told the genius that the man was somewhere around forty.

"Good morning. I called this meeting so that I could introduce you all to Agent Damien West. He is joining our team on a probationary status. Over the next few weeks he will be participating in all of our cases and doing consults," the unit chief paused to allow the man to step forward. "Agent West, let me introduce you to the team. You have Agent David Rossi, Agent Jennifer Jareau, Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia, Agent Derek Morgan, and Dr. Spencer Reid."

Each agent said a gentle hello or gave an acknowledging nod to the new man. Reid just did his signature wave and dropped his gaze back down to the table. He felt no desire to engage with the new agent, deciding it was best to keep his distance. Besides, the man did not seem like the type that would warm up to the genius's eccentric ways.

Hotch turned to the new agent and gestured for him to speak to the team. The young profiler chose to doodle on his notepad in lieu of listening, zoning in and out of the man's introductory speech.

"…eleven years in financial crimes…excited to explore this new opportunity…can't wait to get in the field…so much to learn…," Reid heard the man drone, using all the cliché sayings in his obligatory speech.

It wasn't until Hotch took back over the conversation that the agent started to pay attention again, "Okay, today is going to be dedicated to paperwork unless something urgent crosses my desk. That should give you plenty of time to settle in Agent West." Reid took the pause in Hotch's speech as an opportunity to hold up his finished files and pass them to his superior. "You've already completed all of your consults?"

"Yeah and then some."

Hotch furrowed his brow at the response.

"I got in early this morning," he said evasively, noticing his boss's apparent concern.

The man clearly wanted to ask the profiler to explain what he was doing here that in the morning. But to his credit he ignored the elusive explanation and continued on with his directives, "Garcia?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Please see to it that West has some consults to work on and give Reid some more to do too. Reid," the senior agent said in a gruff voice, clearly imparting a note of disapproval at the genius's early morning habits, "Since you have some extra time, I want you to show him to his desk and help him get settled. Agent West, Reid will be more than happy to answer any and all question you have. If there is nothing else, let's get on with our day."

Everyone started moving and talking upon their superior's dismissal. Most of them went to greet the new agent less formally but Reid stayed seated, watching how quick his coworkers seemed to embrace the new member. He felt a presence hovering behind and wasn't surprised when a strong grip grabbed his chair and turned it around.

Hotch towered above the seated agent and held out his hand for the finished files, "What brought you in so early this morning?"

Reid, clearly uncomfortable with the prying question, unconsciously moved his left hand up to rub the scar hidden by his turtleneck, "Nothing…I just couldn't sleep last night."

The unit chief raised his eyebrow in a look that said he didn't believe the kid, "Well, if you need to talk about it I'll be in my office."

The lanky man stood up as his superior started to walk away.

"And Reid," Hotch called over his shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"It's too hot to be wearing a turtleneck."

Spencer felt his face flush in embarrassment, knowing that he had been called out on trying to cover up the bullet wound.

The rest of the room had emptied, leaving only the brown-eyed boy and the probationary agent. Reid walked over to the other man and said, "Follow me."

* * *

Damien's good feelings about today had yet to wane. The introductory meeting went well; his new unit chief not wasting time on small talk and getting to know you activities, which was something the man appreciated. Most of his new teammates seemed to be really welcoming and friendly, which would make the second part of his plan easily realized over the next few weeks. To top that all off, he had already picked out the weakest link, Dr. Spencer Reid.

He knew it was quick to pick a target, but after profiling each of the agents as they were introduced Dr. Reid stuck out as the obvious choice. Agent Rossi was too well known for Damien to outshine. Agent Jareau was a strong, confident woman that wasn't about to be walked all over. There was no way he could show up the tech girl, he just didn't have the skills or the resources to do what she did. That left Agent Morgan, who was clearly the team's ass-kicker, something Damien had no chance of becoming.

So, based on his first impressions, Dr. Reid seemed like the obvious choice. Now, it wasn't like Damien hadn't heard about the good doctor before today. He knew that the agent was a certifiable genius and very adept at his job. But he also knew that the man was socially awkward to the extreme and based on today's brief meeting he could tell that something was bothering the kid. Honestly, it looked like the boy was drenched in misery and he wasn't putting up a very good façade to hide it. All of those things put together left the young agent vulnerable and prime for the picking. He would just have to work his magic and worm his way into the team's minds while discrediting the younger agent and fucking with his self-esteem in the process.

* * *

Reid led the new agent down to the bullpen and showed him the empty desk adjacent to his own, "This is yours. I'm right here next to you if you have any question. Hotch, Rossi and JJ have offices up there. Morgan's is down the hall over there and Garcia's is that way."

Agent West followed each of the genius's gestures and tucked away the information in the back of his mind. "So what happens now?"

"Oh…um, Garcia is going to bring us some files to work on for the rest of the day. Whatever you finish by four goes up to Hotch for his approval," Reid said, sitting down and turning toward his computer.

"Okay…cool," Damien said. "Is uh..is there any coffee on this floor?"

A small smile broke out on Reid's face as he swiveled back to the new guy and pointed toward the break room, "Yeah, right over there. Good luck on finding a full pot though."

"Ha! I think that's how it is on every floor," West said as he turned to go fetch himself a cup.

"Oh wait! Wait! I'm here," Garcia trilled out as she bustled over to Blake's old desk. "Hey again newbie! I've got piles of files right here for you! Oh! That rhymed."

Damien halted his exit and greeted the chipper woman with a bright smile, "Hello again. So you're the bearer of all things profiler."

"That I am, white collar man. Now, I'm going easy on you since it's your first day. I'm only giving you ten files. But hey, if you want more you can find me in my office," she said merrily, handing off the consults.

"I'm sure I'll be fine with these," he said. "Thank you, angel eyes."

Garcia's face took on a surprised look and then she immediately burst out in laughter, "I think I'm going to like you! See ya!"

"See ya," Damien said, opening the first file and looking at the case details.

Reid, who had been watching the whole exchange, was surprised when technical analyst turned to him and said, "Here's more files."

The profiler reached out his hand to grab them when she unceremoniously dropped them on his desk and started walking away. Confused by the woman's 180˚ personality change he stood up and called out questioningly, "Garcia?"

She halted her brisk walk and slowly turned back to the genius, "Yes?"

"Is…um…is everything okay?"

"Sure! Why wouldn't it be?" she asked, feigning ignorance.

"Because…well…because you've been acting different lately. At least…around me you have," Reid said carefully.

Sorrow and regret were etched in her watery eyes, "I…uh…I…don't worry, it's nothing."

"But…," he was going to ask why she looked close to crying but she scurried off before he had the chance. He turned back around to sit in his seat when his eyes caught Damien's.

"Dude, she sure is upset with you," the probationary agent observed, seeing an opportunity to stir up some trouble.

"You think?" Reid asked, slightly annoyed that the new guy was butting into his business yet wanting to hear what he had to say.

West leaned forward in his chair, looking over the divider with faked concern, "Woman never mean it when they say 'It's nothing.' That's code for something's wrong. Oh and she told you not to worry, which means you should be."

"I don't know…usually she is pretty straightforward about how she feels. Garcia isn't one to hold back when she has a problem," Reid countered, turning his chair to look down the hallway leading to the analyst's office.

"Well, I'm just telling you based on my own experiences. You've known her much longer than the five minutes I have, so I'm sure you know what you're talking about," Damien said, turning his attention back to his files.

"Yeah...," Reid said, lost in thought. He was kind of worried about the whole thing and he hated to think that she was upset with him over something he did. Deciding that he couldn't let this wait, he jumped up and took off down the hallway after his teammate.

* * *

Damien watched the boy chase after the bubbly blonde and smiled. He may not have destroyed a friendship or anything, but he definitely snuck a few seeds of doubt into the young man's mind. It was the perfect start to upping his status.

As the sweater vest disappeared through a door, the new agent refocused on his real work. Surprisingly, he found that delving into consults was fascinating. He didn't write any out yet, opting to look through them all in order to pick the most interesting one to start on first.

After about ten minutes had lapsed dropped a pile of files into his inbox, leaving the one he wanted to work on strewn open on his desk. He stretched his arms above his head and let out a groan.

"Don't tell me you're already tired," a deep but playful voice came from behind him.

Startled, Damien pivoted around in his seat to see who had snuck up on him, "Oh, Agent Morgan. You scared me…and no…I'm not tired. Just stretching my muscles. Something I've gotten used to doing, what with working behind a desk eight hours a day."

"Ahh, then you're going to love the BAU. It's rare for us to be stuck at our desk for a whole shift," Derek said, patting the man on the back. "Anyways, have you seen Reid?"

"Oh, yeah. He went after Garcia a bit ago to make sure she was okay," West said ambiguously.

Morgan furrowed his brow, "What do you mean? What was wrong with her?"

"I'm not really sure. She came to drop off some files for the two of us to work on and before she left Reid stopped her and asked her if she was okay. She got all teary eyed and ran off to her office. The kid followed her not too long after," the agent explained, acting slightly concerned.

"She got upset when Reid talked to her?"

"Yeah, it was like just looking at him disturbed her. So he's been down in her office for the last ten minutes doing lord knows what. Sorry I couldn't be more helpful," he said apologetically.

"No…no that's alright. I'm going to go see what's going on," Morgan mumbled as he walked off to find out what was going on with his two friends.

* * *

"So, what you're saying is that just looking at me is bringing back memories of shooting that guy?" Reid said distraughtly, feeling a sense of déjà vu.

"I'm so sorry Reid. I know that I had to do it in order to save your life. And I would do again if I had to, but it's weighing on my soul," she said tearfully, seeing the troubled look on her junior G-man's face.

The genius's hand immediately went to his neck again, massaging the permanent mark, "I…um…I don't know what to say. I still can't thank you enough for protecting me, but now it's hurting you. I'm so sorry."

A few tears escaped the blonde's eyes, leaving trails of mascara wandering down her cheeks, "No! You shouldn't be sorry. It wasn't your fault."

Reid snorted, "Right. It wasn't my fault that I jumped in front of a bullet and got shot. It wasn't my fault that I lived and that the nurse came after me to eliminate the witness. And now it's not my fault that I'm a living breathing reminder to you of the worst thing you have ever had to do in your life."

"Reid, really…I'll be fine. I'm going to get over it. It's just…until then…I just want to maintain my distance," she said miserably.

"Right…right…it's the least I can do. I'll stay away. You let me know when you're ready," he mumbled dejectedly, walking to the door with his head down.

He opened it silently and let himself out, cringing at the sound of Garcia's sobs. His lanky fingers pulled the door shut behind him, limply letting go of the knob. Then he leaned his head against the door, closing his eyes in an effort to comprehend what had just happened.

Out of seemingly nowhere the voice of the ever heroic Derek Morgan echoed in his ears, "Care to tell me why my baby girl is crying?

* * *

**Quick sidebar: Anyone figure out where I got the title to the story? Hint: Season 9**


	3. Taken Down a Peg

**Hi Friends!**

**Thanks a billion for all of your reviews! They make me feel so warm and fuzzy inside! Also, many thanks to those of you who have followed and favorited the story!**

**So, I got the title of the story from Season 9 episode 4: To Bear Witness. In the beginning there is a scene between Alex and Reid where he is timing her while she completes a crossword puzzle. The answer to one of the clues is...you guessed it...solivagant. I knew right then and there that it had to be the title to my story.**

**Please forgive my stupid mistakes!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Reid lifted his head off the door and turned toward the sound of Morgan's booming voice, "What?"

"I asked if you would care to explain why Garcia is crying."

The genius, too flustered to think of an answer that wouldn't set the other agent off, just said dejectedly, "Not particularly."

Morgan eyes flashed in anger at his friend's answer, "Look, the new guy told me that Garcia got upset earlier when she was talking to you. He said you ran off after her, so I came to check on her…well both of you."

The fact that his friend initially admitted to coming to check on Garcia first did not escape Reid's attention, "Right…well…thank you for caring, but I'm fine." He immediately wrapped his arms around his waist in a defensive posture and turned to walk away.

The darker man put his hand on his friend's shoulder in order to stop him, "What about her? Is she okay? I heard her sobbing when you came out the door. What did you say to her?"

Reid jerked out of the other man's grip, "What did I say? You…you're blaming me too. Why does she have to be upset over something I said? Huh? Look, if you're so worried about her why don't you go and ask her what's wrong yourself? That way you can just leave me alone." As soon as his last bitter word had left his mouth the younger agent took off down the hallway, leaving the black man stunned at his friend's outburst.

* * *

"My fault? Why does it have to be my fault?" the profiler grumbled as he flung himself down into his chair and flipped open a file.

"Are you okay?" came Damien's voice from across the divider.

Reid glanced up, clearly irate at yet another person butting into his business, "I'm fine."

West held up his two hands, as if in surrender, and said, "Hey…okay…I was just checking."

The genius's face softened when he took in the other man's placating gesture. He cleared his throat and looked away, "Uh…I'm sorry. I'm just mad about something. I didn't mean to take it out on you."

"No worries, but if you ever want to talk, let me know," the new agent offered.

"Uh, thanks but…" Reid trailed off, still avoiding eye contact.

Damien, quick on the uptake, simply said, "Yeah, I get it. I'm the new guy. You don't know me well enough to talk to yet. Don't worry about it."

Feeling slightly bad for dismissing the new guy's obvious efforts at trying to make a connection, Reid said, "Thanks anyways."

"No problem," was the answer he received. The other man turned back to work with a wily smile painted on his face. Unfortunately, the veteran profiler never looked up long enough to catch the mischievous facial expression.

* * *

Damien mainly kept to himself for the rest of the day. He worked through his files and wrote up reports on each of the cases that the technical analyst had given him earlier. Occasionally he would glance up to analyze his teammate, who had not spoken a word since he'd gotten back to his desk earlier. The boy still exuded an attitude of anger and resentment, the obvious aftermath of whatever had occurred between him, Garcia and Morgan.

The probationary agent was about to break the silence when Derek Morgan appeared out of nowhere and sat down on the empty space on his friend's desk. He picked up a model of the USS Enterprise and played with it until the younger agent acknowledged him.

"What do you want, Morgan?" Reid finally asked, lifting his gaze from off the computer screen and steadying it on his friend.

"Hey kid…I was kinda hoping we could talk," the agent said.

"I'm busy," Spencer said, snatching the model from Morgan's grasp.

A sly smile came over Morgan's face, "You don't really expect me to believe that do you? You've been done with your reports for hours now."

"I don't care what you believe," his friend responded, stubbornly trying to hang on to his resentment.

"Reid…Spencer, come on. Let's go for a walk. It's time almost quitting time anyways. I'll buy you some coffee. Aw hell, I'll throw in a meal too."

"You really think that tempting me with coffee is going to work?"

The muscular man laughed, "I know it is. Now come on, let me buy you a cup."

Reid pushed back from his desk in order to stand up, "Fine. But don't forget you promised me a meal too."

The black man chuckled as he put his arm around the boy's shoulders, "Nah, I couldn't forget. Especially since I've been on a mission to put meat on your bones for years. Come on, I know just the place."

West, who had watched the whole exchange, was slightly disappointed that the two men seemed to be making up so soon after their altercation. He watched the two men board the elevator and decided that he had underestimated the bond the members of this team must have with one another. He knew that his manipulations would have to cut deeper in the future.

Sighing, the man looked at the clock and realized that Agent Morgan's observation about the work day being almost over was correct. He grabbed pile of completed files and opened them up again. He needed to double check his work, adamant that his write-ups be perfect before they were handed in. When he was completely satisfied with what he had written, he gathered them up and started to walk them to Agent Hotchner's office.

The door to the unit chief's office was closed and the lights inside were turned off. Confused, Damien glanced at his watch to check the time. Shrugging his shoulders, he knocked on the door anyways.

"He's in a meeting with Section Chief Cruz. Is there something I can help you with?" Rossi's asked from the door of his office.

West jumped slightly at the unexpected voice and turned to face the man, "Oh…Sir, I was just turning in the case files that I had completed. Agent Hotchner told me to give them to him for the first few weeks so he could check them over and approve my assessments."

Rossi nodded and beckoned the man into his office, "Bring them here. I'll take a look at them."

The probationary agent was about to hand the pile over to his superior when the man turned and walked inside. Surprised, Damien scrambled to follow Rossi into his office.

The esteemed man plopped down behind his desk and reached his hand out for the cases. West gave them to the man and started to retreat out the door.

"Take a seat and stay awhile," Rossi said, stopping Damien in his tracks.

West, put off guard by the sudden suggestion, hesitantly sat in one of the leather chairs across from the mahogany desk. He watched as the imposing agent flipped through the pages, randomly raising an eyebrow or making noises of approval as he skimmed the suggestions.

After ten agonizing minutes, Agent Rossi finally set down the final case file and said, "These are pretty impressive. You seem to know your stuff."

Glowing from the compliment, Damien was quick to respond, "Well thank you, Sir. I've been doing a ton of research on profiling to prepare for this position. I'm glad that it paid off."

Rossi leaned back in his chair and tented his fingers in front of him, "That's quite a suit you have on there."

West furrowed his brow at the sudden change in subject. "Oh this? It's nothing. I just pulled it out of the back of my closet this morning," trying to sound blasé.

"Armani, right?"

"Yeah…good eye."

"I prefer Versace, personally, but both are amazing Italian designers," Rossi bragged.

"Donatella or Gianni? I have a few of his…I just find that they fit better than Donatella's."

The elder agent didn't answer, instead he squinted his eyes at the other man and said, "You know, when you said that you got the suit from the back of your closet you were trying to make it sound like it was nothing. Not important…but actually, the fact that you got the garment from the back means that it is an important article of clothing. You see, we tend to push our fancier, more expensive items into the back, not on purpose really, but because the ones we wear on a consistent basis tend to be toward the front. Now, you could argue that it was back there because you had forgotten about it, which does happen to some clothes from time to time…but not that suit. You had it wrapped up in a garment bag, protected from dust, pollen, and time. You treasure that suit and see it as a status symbol. In truth, I would lay odds that you only wear it when you crave attention or when you have the need to impress people."

Damien, shocked at the man's perception, sputtered, unable to find any words to argue the man's point.

Raising and eyebrow, Rossi continued, "Now, I'm not sure why you would feel the need to impress us with a designer suit but I can assure you that the message you're displaying is probably not the one you wanted to send us."

"Message?"

"Yeah, you were trying leave us with a good first impression, right? You thought a designer suit would leave us in awe of your prowess and make you memorable. Oh and it did…but were you forgetting that we are some of the best profilers in the world? The only thing impression that your choice in suit left us with was an exemplary example of your narcissism."

"Narcissism?" West balked, feeling his face getting red with anger.

"Oh yes, you are quite the narcissist. What with your designer suit, diamond accessories, and the holier-than-thou introductory speech you gave. You know, earlier you said that you were leaving your job over in financial crimes because you couldn't stand to see, and I quote, 'Another self-righteous man get away with his crimes just because he flaunted his riches for all to see. Did it ever occur to you that the fact that you felt the need to leave white collar crimes was because you were trying to run away from all those men that reminded you of yourself?"

Damien shook his head, "Now really Agent Rossi, I don't think that is any of your business. And yeah, I said that, and it's true. I hate it when people think their money should get them ahead in the world. Period."

Rossi smirked, "And what do you think you were doing when you walked in today sporting your designer suit?"

"Making a good first impression, like you said earlier," Damien stated crossly. "Now if that's all, I think I'll be on my way."

"No wait, just one more thing," Rossi called to the incensed man's back.

Grinding his teeth, West turned around, "Yes, sir?"

"Look, I didn't call you in here to attack your character. I simply wanted to remind you that you are going to be working with some of the best profilers in the world. Don't waste your time trying to impress us with superficial things, we are only interested in what's beneath the surface. Are you a man that can put the team before his own needs? Will you be happy not being the center of attention? And most importantly, can you see beyond your own biases and profile objectively? If so, then you will be the perfect fit for this family, but not before you show us that. And yes, I said family because at our core that is what we are. So tomorrow, leave the designer suit at home and bring the real you into this office," the senior agent said wisely. "Understand?"

"Yes, sir. I understand," Damien affirmed.

"Good. Well then, have a nice night," Rossi said with a wave of his hand, dismissing the probationary agent.

Fuming from the dressing down that he had just received, the stocky man stomped down the stairs intent on getting out of the building as fast as he could.

How dare Agent Rossi assume to know anything about him? What gave the man the right to profile him? Especially since his rundown was so inaccurate. He was not a narcissist, quite the opposite really. He felt compassion for the people that had gotten taken by those greedy executives. He went out of his way to donate money to charities that benefited the crimes of the rich. And he only wanted to join the BAU in order to use his superior knowledge to help make the world a better place.

The pompous man was so caught up in his internal rant that he ended up ramming right into another body just as he reached his desk. "Watch it," he grumbled at his path's obstruction.

"Oh, uh…sorry," came a familiar meek voice.

"Yeah well, don't let it happen again," he ordered, not paying attention to the figure he plowed over.

"Uh…actually, it was kind of your fault. Uh…you ran into me."

Damien stopped in his tracks and turned to look at his victim, Spencer Reid. "Oh, it's you, kid…I thought you were out with Agent Morgan."

Reid, taken aback by the man's caustic use of his friend's nickname for him, answered cautiously, "Yeah, but I had to come back when we were done to get my things."

"Oh, did you two make up?"

The agent's child-like face screwed up as he cleared his throat in discomfort at the question, "We're fine now."

"That's great," he said sarcastically. "I've got to get going."

"Um…yeah…see you tomorrow," the surprise at the man's sudden contempt for him hidden from his voice.

Deigning not to answer the boy, Damien grabbed his briefcase and hauled ass out the door.

* * *

Over the next few days Reid maintained his caution when dealing with the new agent. He wasn't sure what had caused the man's sour temper on his first day, and he wanted to avoid another confrontation. So, by the afternoon of West's fourth day the only words exchanged between the two were the obligatory "Good Mornings."

Of course, throughout the week the genius couldn't resist observing his new teammate. He found it really interesting that the man seemed to have done a complete 180˚ in his appearance. Gone was the name-brand suit and in its place were sets of comfortable khakis and a polo shirts. The only hint of extravagance came from the man's loafers, clearly Italian. Perhaps he had traded style secrets with Rossi.

The man also seemed to be making an effort to get to know the other profilers. He went out of his way to flirt with Garcia when she came around with the daily assignments. He ventured up to JJ's office with any questions he had and he always seemed to be having a good laugh with Morgan over by the coffee pot. Overall, the new agent seemed to be integrating well with the other members of the team. Resolving that Monday's incident must have been an unfortunate example of wrong place wrong time, Reid came to the decision that he would try to talk with the man later.

It wasn't until mid-afternoon that the opportunity presented itself. They were both settled in at their desks working on consults. Reid's coffee had gone dry and he decided to go get himself another cup, "Hey, I was going to go get a refill. Would you like one too?"

Damien, who had been avoiding the kid on purpose all week, looked up and said, "No. I don't need you to get me anything."

Reid, surprised at the man's reaction, furrowed his brow, "Are you still upset about running into me the other night?"

West scoffed, choosing his next words carefully, "Seriously, you're bringing that up? God, no wonder no one else works down here with you. You can't let anything go."

"W-what?" Spencer felt like the man had just stuck a dagger into his heart.

"Honestly, kid. Don't tell me you've never realized that you are the only longstanding member of your team not to have an office. Is it kind of like an initiation for you guys? Putting all the newbies in a desk across from you? Ya'know kinda like trial by fire…if a new agent can handle working in a close vicinity to you than they can have a spot on the team?" the man asked mockingly.

"I-I-I…" the profiler stuttered, at a loss for words.

"At a loss for words? That must be a first," Damien snapped wittily.

Fuming, Spencer forced out the words, "H-how can you say that? Y-you don't even know me!"

"That may be but I've heard all about you from other agents around the office. Not to mention I've worked across from you for almost a week. I have eyes, kid. I see how everyone zones out when you start talking. You ramble on and on to no end about the most useless stuff. There's also the way you seem to have no understand of social norms or cues. I don't blame the others for getting frustrated when their jokes or sarcastic comments glide straight over your head. No, it doesn't take a profiler to figure out why this desk is always the vacant one," West declared scathingly.

Mouth agape, the veteran profiler digested the man's tactless words. He could feel a twinge of self-doubt burrow inside his soul as he wondered how much truth was behind the man's words. After a few seconds of contemplation Reid finally got out a whispered, "You don't know what you're talking about."

"What was that?"

"I said-"

"Ugh, never mind," West said, looking at his watch. "Look kid, obviously we're not going to be best buddies. So, for the sake of working together let's just keep it professional between us and we'll get along fine."

Reid, still stunned, watched as the man turned back to his computer. The insecurity from before flew out of his mind as irritation replaced it, "It's Dr. Reid."

"What?"

"I would appreciate it if you would address me as Dr. Reid. I'm not a kid and it's insulting to have you speak to me as such. Especially since I am your superior," the genius added tersely, before walking away.

A derisive snort came from the other man, "Superior in what?"

Reid spun around and stalked back over to the other man and unleashed his seldom seen temper, "I'll have you know that my superiority over you falls under many categories. I can assure you that intellectually I am well above your station. I have more years of experience profiling that you could count on your fingers. And if we were out in the field right now I'm sure my tactical skills would outshine yours any day. Furthermore –"

"Reid," emanated a stern voice from behind the agent. "What is the problem here?"

The boy's brown orbs blew wide in surprise as he recognized the voice behind him. He immediately spun around and came face to face with his superior, "Uh Hotch. There..uh..there's no problem here."

"That's not what it sounded like," the senior agent stated. "Agent West?"

"Yes, sir. Dr. Reid was just explaining to me all the things that make him superior."

"I see. Reid, we'll talk about this later. For now, we are meeting in the round table room in five. We've got a new case," the unit chief said before walking away to inform the rest of the profilers.

West looked at Reid and gave him a gloating smile, "Who's superior now, kid?"

Reid felt his heart clench just like his fists as he watched the other man walk away triumphantly.

* * *

"You, my pets, are jetting off to the ever exciting Miami. It seems that someone has a thing against brides-to-be as they now have killed three of them in as many weeks," Garcia trilled, keeping her eyes averted from the screen.

Hotch, seeing that the technical analyst was done, took over the briefing, "Miami police have just called us in today when they found the third body, Chloe Burt. She was found strangled, as were the other brides, and left in an alley."

From there the profilers took up their usual routine of asking questions and bouncing theories off of one another. Damien, seeing this as his first opportunity to display his skills, made sure to participate by adding in his own thoughts and posing interesting inquiries.

As the session wound down, before Hotch could assign anyone to their specific duties, West piped up. "Uh, Hotch…I would like to work on the geographical profile when we get down there. I'm really good at math and it's something I've been practicing on since I found out that there was a job opening at the BAU."

Hotch didn't bat an eye as he shot the other agent down, "I'm sorry West, but we're on a time limit with this one so I'm going to have Reid take care of that. He's quick and quite adept at making them. Instead, I'd like you to work with JJ on victimology and interviewing the families. Rossi, Morgan…you two will go to the dump sites while I visit their last known locations. Alright, with that settled I'd like to get going. Wheels up in twenty."

The profilers all stood up and left upon Hotch's dismissal, except for West. Instead, he sat at his seat and glared at the coiled brown head of hair that was bouncing its way down into the bullpen. He could have sworn that the other agent had smirked when Hotch nixed his request. Damien couldn't help but seethe at the thought that the one skill that he had purposefully cultivated for this job wouldn't be demonstrated to the team because of that twerp. Steeling his resolve, he heaved himself up out of his chair deciding that he was going to have to up his game and exploit any opportunity that came along on this trip.

* * *

**Uh oh..what devious plan does that man have up his sleeve? Guess you'll find out next time!**


	4. Sabotage

**Hi Friends!**

**So I was attacked by a nasty case of writers block. I toiled over this chapter and to be honest I am not completely satisfied with it. If it feels a little bit tortured than you'll know why.**

**Thank you everyone for reviewing and following the story! I was unable to respond to each of your reviews this time :( My daughter who just turned 5 months old yesterday is still colicky, which leaves me with very little free time. OMG, for all you mothers out there that have had to deal with colicky babies I just want you to know you have my undying respect. It is such a challenge! Don't get me wrong, I love my baby girl! I just wish I could set her down for five minutes without her getting into a screaming fit.**

**Anyways, I digress...**

**Please forgive any mistakes.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Spencer curled his body into the corner of the jet where the couch met the wall. Hotch had just finished leading them through a quick review of the case and told everyone to relax for a bit until they got to Miami. The genius knew right away that he wanted to isolate himself from the others in order to ponder what had occurred over the last few days.

He pulled up his legs and wrapped his arms around them, resting his head against his knees in order to look out the tiny window. He knew that his position would ring alarm bells in the others' heads, if they cared enough to notice, but that was the least of his worries. He just really needed to use this time to sort through his thoughts without interruption.

Unfortunately, before he had even begun his travels through his memories the couch groan under the added weight of one of his teammates.

"Reid?" came Hotch's voice, strong yet soft.

The addressed agent didn't respond, choosing to tighten his arms around his legs instead.

"Reid, I'm not here to talk about earlier. This isn't the most private location and we have plenty of time to discuss the incident later. I just wanted to make sure you were feeling alright."

"I'm fine," came his muffled response. "Just thinking."

"Well then I'll leave you to it," the older agent said as his weight disappeared from the seat.

The profiler didn't acknowledge his boss's departure, instead he steadied his gaze out on the cottony clouds in order to help him get lost in his thoughts.

The first thing that popped into his head was the unexpected confrontation with Garcia on Monday. Sure, he had been noticing her acting strange but he had chalked it up to boyfriend issues. He still couldn't get over the shock of finding out that it was her remorse that was pulling them apart. Why did he always have to be the reason people suffered? Of course he knew that shooting that man had really damaged her psyche; hell, she said her karma was knocked down a few points just from pulling the fire alarm. But he didn't know that just looking at him was bringing back all those negative feelings for her.

It seemed like that was a growing trend lately.

At least he could assuage her torment by staying away like she asked. Like he had said to her on Monday, it was the least he could do.

While the Garcia issue was a surprise, the subsequent confrontation with Morgan was a staggering blow. Had he and his best friend drifted so far apart that Derek thought him capable of upsetting another human being on purpose? If Morgan actually believed that then maybe the man didn't know him as well as Reid had thought he did. Perhaps all those hours the genius had put into cultivating their friendship had been in vain. The man hadn't been paying attention to him all along, just using him to pass the time.

But then, why did Morgan come and apologize later on that day? The darker agent had gone out of his way to take Reid out for a quick dinner and say he was sorry. Derek had explained that he hadn't intended to come off as concerned only for Garcia and that he never meant to blame Reid for her sorrow. He also mentioned that Garcia had told him about what was plaguing her and that he could understand why the genius had been so upset after leaving the tech analyst's lair. Then in typical Morgan style he said he would be there if Reid needed to talk about it. The genius graciously rejected Derek's offer with the promise that he would come to the man if he needed someone to talk to. Since their dinner Monday night the two have had only a few conversations around the office but not much else in the way of interactions.

So what should he do? Does he put his trust in Morgan again and maintain their friendship? Was waiting for Garcia to come around worth his time? Or was it better to let both of them go to the wayside and save himself the pain of them leaving him in the future? In the end he really didn't know what to make of his relationships with his two coworkers.

The profiler shook his head as he turned it away from the window. His big brown eyes swept over the interior of the plane, lingering on each teammate as they wandered. Most of his coworkers were settled around the table, each engrossed in their own activities. Hotch was rifling through the case files and at the moment he was paying particular attention to what looked like a coroner's report. Morgan and JJ were playing gin and based on the cards that Reid could see, Morgan was about to win. Then there was Rossi penning down his theories on the legal pad in front of him. Whatever he was pondering must have been case related because he was only jotting down thoughts after perusing the files that Hotch handed him.

That left Agent West, who had chosen one of the solitary seats at the back of the jet; one that gave him a full perspective of the interior and an unobstructed view of Reid. The man seemed to be using his vantage point to scrutinize the genius to no end. His beady eyes seemed to bore straight through the profiler's skin and down into his soul. The man's obvious inspection left the younger agent feeling raw and exposed, a feeling which he had experienced frequently when dealing with bullies in the past. And he would be damned if he would allow another bully to affect his life.

So, instead of backing down to West's unwavering stare, the profiler decided to meet him head on. He purposefully locked his gaze with the other agent's dark green eyes, sending the man warning messages with his expressive orbs.

Unfortunately the other man didn't back down from the genius's penetrating glare and met him look for look. The battle of wills had commenced and neither agent was prepared to back down. It felt like whomever came out of this war victorious would reign supreme on the team.

Therefore Reid, settling in for the long haul, rested his chin on his knees and wrapped his arms tighter around his body. He could feel his eyes start to water as he had yet to blink them, not wanting to send the other man any signal that could imply weakness. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the other man's fingers clamped on the arms of the chair in a strength that matched the clench of his jaw. West, who seemed just as determined to win this fight, shifted slightly in his seat before he surprised the genius by standing up.

Damien's eyes never broke contact as he stalked down the aisle of the jet, heading toward the profiler who was still perched on the couch. Reid, startled at this turn of events, straightened his back in order to give off a stronger vibe. Was West about to confront him here on the jet, in front of everyone?

The other man's confident stride took him right up to the genius, where he paused for a quick second. The bully's position next to the couch allowed him to tower above Reid and forced the young man to look up to him in order to hold the stare. A sardonic smile erupted on the older agent's face before he continued on his path into the galley.

Reid, uncomfortable with the thought that West was behind him, started to extricate himself from his folded position. He was halfway to planting his feet on the floor when the jet hit an extreme patch of turbulence. The air current bounced the plane like a Ping-Pong ball, pushing the cabin up and down in one sharp burst. The choppy flow caught the lanky youth off guard and sent him tumbling to the floor of the cabin in a jumble of limbs.

The young man's gangly appendages became entangled with each new jostle of the aircraft. He couldn't seem to get up off the floor before another whiff of air moved the plane. Across the cabin his fellow profilers weren't having any better luck. He could hear their cries of surprise and irritation as the four cups of coffee occupying the table spilled all over the place.

Moments later a particularly violent toss of the air sent his body flying forwards, thrusting his head into the supports that kept the couch bolted to the floor. Reid was barely aware of the moan he let out as he brought his hand up to the left side of his head. His nimble digits quickly found a significant scratch that was the source of the blood oozing down his forehead.

It took a few minutes for him to realize that the plane had entered a stable patch of atmosphere once more. Behind him he heard Rossi cursing the fact that his shirt was ruined while the other were trying to save the case files that had been exposed to the caffeinated fluid. Once he became fully satisfied that the plane wasn't going to send him back down to the ground the genius began the process of boosting himself from up off the floor. He had gotten as far as propping his body up on his elbows when a spiteful laugh entered his ears.

"It seems that even Mother Nature is trying to put you in your place," came Damien's biting remark.

Slightly confused due to the head wound, Reid looked up at the other man through bleary eyes. "What?"

"The ground. You're right where you belong. I'd offer you a hand but I rather like having you in a position beneath me," the man taunted while walking past the agent sprawled out on the floor.

Reid opened his mouth intent retaliation when Derek's voice cut through the cabin, "Yo, pretty boy, are you alright?"

Snapping his jaw closed, the profiler gave a simple nod.

Morgan left the other agents to clean up the spill and made his way over to his friend, "Here, let me help you up."

Reid stared at the muscular man's proffered hand before shifting his weight around in order to get up off the floor unassisted.

"Don't worry about me, I'm fine. Go help the others."

Derek, slightly hurt at his help being shunned, retorted, "If you're so fine than why is there a ruby river flowing down the side of your head?"

The genius, having forgotten about his injury, touched the cut again. "I…uh…I hit my head on the foot of the couch."

"I can see that. Here, come on and let me help you."

Ever reluctant to accept any aid, even if it was from a so-called friend, Reid shook his head, "I've got it."

"Nah man, I insist. Anyways the seatbelt light just came on, a little late I might add. Let me grab the first aid kit while you buckle up. We're about to land and we can't have you walking into the police station a bloody mess."

"Fine," Reid acquiesced halfheartedly, plopping down on the couch. The pilot came over the PA and announced their descent as Derek came back with the supplies.

"Turn your head for me," the man ordered as he started dabbing at the cut.

Spencer turned his neck obediently and stared down to the other end of the cabin, right into the laughing eyes of Damien West.

* * *

After the jet touched down the profilers dispersed to their assigned locations, intent on catching the unsub before he could kill again. Unfortunately, that meant Reid had to go with JJ and West to the police precinct and endure the most awkward car ride of his life. The silence in the vehicle was stifling as the two men did their best to ignore each other. Eventually it became too much for JJ to handle and she started trying to make small talk with them both.

"How's your head, Spence?"

"It's fine."

"That's good. I can't believe how violent the turbulence was on the way here. I'm going to look into inventing a turbulence proof coffee mug. That way I'll never have to experience another one of Rossi's fits when his designer clothes get ruined," she said with a forced laugh. Neither one of the men commented on her remark so the car fell back into oppressive silence once again.

When the trio arrived at the station JJ took charge of the introductions, falling back on her old habits as the media liaison of the team. They were quickly escorted to a small conference room that had already been set up with maps, supplies and any new information the detectives had garnered from their investigation.

Reid made a beeline for the map and started sticking in pushpins at various locations connected to the case. He had color coordinated the tacks, red for dump sites and blue for last known locations. From there he started making correlations connected to the data points.

While the genius was engrossed with his job, JJ and West started putting together the board and discussing vicitmology. The victims' families were set to be there within the hour and the two wanted to be fully prepared to interview them.

The tension from the car ride disappeared over the next few hours. The rival agents were both focused on the case and kept any necessary interactions professional. From the outside looking in, it would seem like everything was copasetic, only the two men knew any different.

Eventually the rest of the team made their way back to the station to reconvene and sort through any new information. Morgan and Rossi were only able to add that the dump sites locations were filthy. They felt that the unsub was showing the world that the women were pieces of garbage, totally useless and unwanted in the world. Hotch found that each of the women disappeared while they were running wedding errands. Chloe Burt had been picking up the last of her centerpieces, Kylee May was leaving was finalizing her reception details, and Hannah Sabuda had just paid the DJ.

"It seems like the unsub is purposefully taking them while they are putting the finishing touches on their wedding," Hotch explained.

"Well it's obvious he doesn't think these women are worthy of getting married," JJ observed. "I mean, he took them all a few days before their ceremonies and dumps their tortured bodies in the seedy back alleys of Miami."

"So, is the unsub acting out because his own fiancée deceived him? Did his wife-to-be leave him at the altar? Was she cheating on him? Is he enacting his revenge on other woman who he perceives as being disloyal to their future husbands?" Morgan posed to the team.

Reid suddenly piped up, "Did you guys find any connection between the brides, JJ?"

"Well –"

"No, there weren't any distinguishable connections besides the fact that they were all days away from getting married," West interjected before she could answer. "They had booked different churches, reception locations, DJs, limo services, etc. None of the details of their weddings were even remotely close. Chloe was having a country western themed reception while Hannah was going traditional."

"We have to be missing a connection somewhere. How is he picking out the brides? How does he know when each one of them is getting married? You can't just call up a reception hall and ask them the details of who booked the room. There has to be something these women have in common," Rossi postulated.

JJ straightened up quickly, "You know what, tons of brides go to those wedding expos. There are always booths there to win prizes like honeymoons or free photography. Maybe they all filled out forms at the unsub's booth. I'll have Garcia look into it."

"How could he possibly know whether or not they attended an expo?"

"You have to buy tickets to get in and I'm sure they all got caught up in filling out forms. There is no way they all walked out of there without signing up for something," JJ said.

"Okay, JJ call Garcia and give her the parameters for the search. The rest of us will keep rifling through the files. We not only need to figure out how he gets information about the brides but also how he decides whether or not they're unfaithful," Hotch ordered.

JJ got up and left the room to talk to the tech analyst in a quieter environment. The rest of the team got back to work, searching feverishly for a clue.

Sadly, their investigation was short lived due to the local police chief coming in an announcing that another woman had gone missing. Chief Willis quickly relayed all the known information about the woman, Megan Johnson, and supplied the profilers with the contact information for her family.

"Alright, I was hoping that we were called in with enough time to stop another abduction, but it looks like I was wrong. Rossi, Morgan, you two come with me to interview the family and inspect the abduction site. The rest of you stay here and keep working all angles. We need to act fast, because if we go by his priors Megan only has two days," the unit chief announced grimly as he got up and left with the other profilers.

Reid, used to being left behind, moved back to his map to plot the new data point. He was busy triangulating what he thought might prove to be the unsub's comfort zone that he barely paid any attention to JJ's conversation with West.

"What else do brides do to prepare for their weddings?"

JJ just shook her head, "Don't ask me. My wedding was a surprise. Rossi planned it all behind my back. I was lucky and dodged all the drama that comes with planning the perfect ceremony. I didn't even get a bachelorette party, Garcia and Prentiss took me out a few weeks later for a belated one."

"What?"

"Yeah, they took me out clubbing and tricked me into going to a strip club called the Lumberyard," she laughed, shuffling through the files.

Damien started to vigorously comb through the files, ignoring the rest of JJ's story. "Do we know if the victims had bachelorette parties?"

JJ crinkled her brow, "I don't think so."

"We need to find out, now!"

"Why? What are you thinking," Reid asked out of nowhere, turning his concentration away from the map.

"If you would just think about it, you'd understand," West said scathingly. "Haven't you ever been to a club on a Friday or Saturday night? They are usual crawling with bachelorettes and their entourages of loud wild women."

JJ's eyes went wide with comprehension, "Ohhhh, that could be where he's finding the victims."

"What? How?" Spencer asked obliviously.

Damien scoffed, "Seriously?"

"Spence doesn't go clubbing," JJ explained to West. She then turned to the genius and said, "Women participating in a bachelorette party usually act crazier than normal, especially the bride. It's not uncommon for the bride's friends to get her insanely wasted and dare her to complete different challenges."

"What types of challenges?"

"Well, they usual deal with flirting and interacting with the men at the club. I once dared my friend to get a guy to give her his boxers. And another friend of mine had to kiss 10 random strangers."

"So basically – "

"So basically women tend to go out and act like whores for one final night before they are no longer single," West cut in, clearly frustrated with Reid's ignorance on the subject.

"That's a bit harsher than I would put it," JJ countered, frowning at the new agent.

"Am I wrong?"

"N-no…I guess not," she conceded.

"Moving on. The unsub must be witnessing the brides acting wild at the clubs and taking that as a sign that she is unfaithful to her fiancée."

"But how does he get the intimate details about her and the wedding?" JJ asked.

"I don't know, I haven't figured that part out yet," Damien admitted. "Look, I'm going to go call all the families and find out if the brides had a party in the first place. We can worry about the rest of the details later."

The two profilers watched as the man marched out of the room.

"Spence, you've worked across from him all week…is he always so intense?"

Reid cleared his throat and tried to avoid the question, "He's just excited to have a potential lead."

"I guess…he just better not let Hotch see him act like that."

"Yeah," was all Reid said as he turned his focus back to the board.

* * *

Awhile later West rushed back in the room and shoved a sheet of paper in the genius's face. "Here are all the addresses of the clubs the brides visited for their bachelorette parties. Some of the girls went to multiple locations, and only two of the clubs were visited by more than one bride."

Wordlessly, Reid glanced down at the paper, memorizing the addresses before setting it down on the table. Then he started to tack up the new locations, using yellow pins this time.

Once he was finished he stepped back to view the resulting hunting zone, "So they all went to clubs on the west side of the city…strange."

"What is?" came Morgan's voice from behind him.

Startled, Reid turned around, "You guys are back already?"

"Already? We've been gone for two hours."

The lanky profiler glanced down at his watch and realized that he had been working the geographic profile for longer than he thought.

"So what is strange?" asked Rossi as he sat down at the table with the rest of the profilers.

"Well, all of the activity has been focused on the southeast side of Miami and the surrounding suburbs. The location of the clubs don't fit into that pattern. It throws off the whole profile and doubles the size of his comfort zone."

"So, we're still missing something," Morgan deduced.

"Yeah…something seems off to me," Damien muttered, getting up from the table to inspect Reid's work.

"Like what?"

Agent West furrowed his brow as he pointed to one of the yellow flags on the map, "Did you place these according to the addresses I gave you?"

Taken aback, Reid raised his eyebrow, "Yes."

"Are you sure? Because I don't remember writing an address for a club on Church Street."

"What? Are you accusing me of making the addresses up?"

"No, I'm alleging that you got them wrong," Damien said with scrutiny.

Reid spun around to the table and started searching through the loose papers on the table. "I put them exactly where you told me."

"Reid? What are you doing?" Hotch ventured as he watched the genius frantically flinging white sheets everywhere.

"He wrote all the addresses on a piece of paper. I put it on the table after I memorized them. It's got to be around here somewhere," he said desperately, unaware of the looks of concern the other profilers were sending his way.

"Look Reid, it's not important right now. Just double check the address and fix them if you need to," Hotch said firmly, trying to refocus the agent.

"But…Ah ha! Here it is," he exclaimed, holding the paper up in triumph.

Damien grabbed the small sheet of lined paper and read it. He then handed it to Hotch with a smug look of joy.

Hotch briefly glanced at the document and handed it back to the younger agent, "Correct the pins and outline the new comfort zone."

Utter confusion painted Reid's face as he looked down at the sheet. There, on the bold blue lines, were completely different locations than the ones he tacked onto the board. "I…I don't understand. These aren't the same addresses as before. Hotch –"

"Reid, we will look into it later. Right now we all need to concentrate on the case and find Megan Johnson," the stoic man said refocusing the frenzied agent and his spectating coworkers.

"Right…," he said, scrubbing his hands against his eyes in an effort to clear his head.

As he turned back to fix the board, he crumpled up the piece of paper and stuck it in his pocket. He knew that Agent West had purposefully messed with his geographical profile, he just needed to prove it.

* * *

**So many of you have commented on the fact that Damien shouldn't be able to get away with his poor attitude and treacherous ways around our favorite profilers...but honestly that's the whole point of this story. The team members are so wrapped up in their own lives right now that they aren't seeing the forest for the trees and Reid feels like he needs to take care of business on his own. But, don't go assuming that everyone is ignorant to what is happening...they just haven't said anything yet. There were two scenes that were supposed to be included in this chapter that didn't make it, but wait till next time and you'll see that the team isn't as oblivious as they seem.**

**Take care!**


	5. Spilled Secret

**Hi Friends!**

**Thanks a bunch for all your kind words! I love reading your comments and I'm glad to hear that you are enjoying the story.**

**Please forgive any sloppy mistakes. It's late here and I wanted to post before I went to bed.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

After the correct locations were pinned and the real comfort zone was outlined, Reid turned and posed a question to the team, "How are we going to find an unsub that frequents clubs in order to select his next victim? Wha-what I mean, is that there is no way that he would want to stand out in the crowd or leave an impression on anyone. He'd want to stay invisible the whole time which would be easy to do in a crammed club."

"But if he was invisible than how did he find out about the brides and their weddings? He would've had to have talked to one of the women that were a part of the party," Morgan countered.

"Morgan's right, he must have talked to someone. That means that we need to interview the women that attended each party and see if they can remember any strange encounters with a man trying to pry wedding details out of them. Then we compile a list, hopefully with names, and compare it to people living in the comfort zone," Hotch said as if it was the simplest task on the planet.

"That could be at least a hundred women all together," JJ stated with an overwhelmed look on her face.

"Not to mention that their memories aren't going to be that reliable due to the amount of alcohol they probably consumed that night," West chimed in.

"Then we had better get started," the unit chief said, unmoved by the prospect of the daunting task.

* * *

It took the rest of the day to compile the list of party goers and their contact information. By the time they were ready to start calling in potential witnesses it was edging toward midnight. Regardless of the time constraint to find Megan, the team had to call it a night with the understanding that they would pick up with phone interviews in the morning.

By midafternoon the next day the profilers had a list of approximately twenty potential names. Unfortunately, not all of the men that hit on the women in the bachelorette parties gave out their phone numbers and according to Garcia some of them didn't even give their real names. Even worse was the fact that none of the men on the list were identified by multiple parties.

"This is impossible," Morgan lamented, tipping back in his chair. "I mean, do we really think any of these men are the unsub? Regardless how stupid some of the criminals we have caught turn out to be, none of them ever willing give away their contact information. I bet each one of these guys was just some horney dude trying to get laid."

"Okay, so if we go by what you're saying, maybe it was one of the men that gave a fake name," Rossi proposed. "He got his information and took off leaving no viable trail behind."

"So, how do we track down these nameless guys?" JJ asked.

"We could get the girls who remember them to meet with a sketch artist," Reid suggested.

Damien scoffed, "And then what do we do with the pictures? Put them on the news and hope that they come forward or someone turns them in?"

"Exactly, or we could take them to the clubs and ask around to see if anyone recognizes them," Reid quickly responded.

"Both options will take too long and he won't be out tonight. He'll be with his newest prize," West countered.

Hotch held up his hand, stopping the argument. "While Reid's idea does not hold much promise, it's the only one we have right now. Unless you have something else in mind, Agent West."

Taken aback by Hotch's straightforward question, Damien sputtered, "I-I…uh…no."

"Alright then, we will – "

"Wait!" West said suddenly, missing the look of annoyance on Hotch's face at his graceless interruption.

"Yes?"

"I was just thinking. There is one person at the club that could easily find out about the bride without seeming suspicious."

"And who is that?" Morgan asked.

"The D.J."

"The D.J.?" Reid asked with a furrowed brow.

He tsked his tongue and said, "You don't get out much, do you?"

The genius opened his mouth, intent on defending himself, when the unit chief cut him off, "Why would the D.J. know anything about the bride?"

JJ, understanding where West was headed answered for him, "Because someone in the bridal party always goes up to the D.J. to get a song played that's dedicated to the bride."

"And?"

"And…he always asks for specifics about the bride, like her name, when the wedding is and stuff," she explained.

"And most D.J. booths are at the perfect vantage point in the club to observe the dance floor. If the bride was shamelessly flirting with different men, he would see it," Damien added, not pleased with JJ stealing his thunder.

"Yeah but if he announces the information that he garners from the bride's friends than everyone in the club is privy to the details," Morgan said, pointing out a flaw in the man's idea.

"True…I didn't think of that," West said slightly disheartened.

"Anyways, there are ten different clubs on the list. How could they all have the same D.J.?" Reid added.

"I don't know…but West's idea is feasible. I don't think we should ignore it. How about we split up? I'll work with West and JJ on the D.J. angle and you three work on finding the men on the list," Rossi cleverly propositioned.

"I agree. Morgan, Reid let's get started on hunting down the witnesses and getting them in here to meet with the sketch artist." Hotch looked to Rossi, "We'll check back in with you in a few hours."

* * *

Around seven o'clock the team hadn't made much headway, both groups coming up nearly empty handed. Upon further research, Rossi's group found out that each of the clubs had only one D.J. on staff, and none of them had fired anyone recently.

Hotch's team also ran into a brick wall when it came to the sketches. It turned out most of the women were too intoxicated and the clubs were too dark for them to give descriptions with enough details of the men they remembered flirting with that night.

Reid, who currently found himself waiting for the team's order at a local coffee shop, was frustrated and slightly disjointed at the lack of progress the team had made. He let out a huff of air as he turned to look over the local bulletin board that was on the wall by the counter. His eyes danced over papers spotting a few help wanted ads, a kitten for sale and an advertisement for a creepy looking clown that specialized in birthdays. He cringed at the last one, having never found the idea of strange men in crazy wigs with big expressions painted on their faces endearing.

It was his abhorrence of the modern day jesters almost caused him to miss a flyer for one of the clubs that they had been researching. The nightclub Seven was proudly advertising their retro night, blatantly touting the appearance of a guest D.J. named Grind-Man Slam. The genius tore the advertisement down off the board in one quick pull, picked up the coffee and sprinted out the door.

He make record time back to the station, spilling coffee everywhere in his mad dash. He flung the door of the conference room open and panted out while gasping for breath, "Wha…what…about…a…guest…D.J.?

The five heads in the room bobbed up from their focused positions and took in the heaving genius drenched in caffeine.

"Come again," Morgan asked, getting up to grab the precariously clutched coffee trays from Reid's hands.

"This!" he exclaimed waving the flyer. "I spotted this while I was waiting for our coffee order. What if the clubs had a guest D.J. the nights the bachelorette parties were occurring?"

JJ's eyes went wide, "You know, that just might be it. Tons of clubs have themed nights."

"Good eye, Reid. Get on the phone with Garcia and have her find out if there were guest D.J.s the night of the bachelorette parties. The rest of us will try to keep whittling down the list of men that the women identified," Hotch ruled, turning back to the table.

The genius set off to work, oblivious of the seething stare he was receiving from the newest agent.

"Garcia?"

"What up, Boy Wonder?"

"I need you to look up whether or not the bars the brides went to the night of their parties had guest D.J.s. If so, we need to figure out if it was the same one at each event," he explained, covering his exposed ear with one hand in order to hear her better over his colleagues.

"I'll try, but I'm not sure that the clubs will have that information online. It depends on whether or not they have an archaic website or if they ever bother to update it. Look, I'll hit ya up in a few and let you know. TTYL!"

The youngest profiler pocketed his phone and went to join the others. As he approached the table he noticed that the only open seat was next to West and he was hesitant to take it. He didn't want to deal with the man's standoffish attitude any more than he already had on this case.

Sucking it up and deciding that he wouldn't let the narrow-minded man dictate his life, Reid pulled out the chair and plopped down. The other man immediately scooted his chair a few extra inches away from the genius and said, "Did your theory not pan out?"

"Garcia's looking into it as we speak," he said shortly, grabbing one of the files splayed out in front of him.

"If it had been my idea, I would have been doing my own dirty work," Damien criticized.

"Yes, well, it wasn't and you would be a fool not to utilize Garcia at any chance you get. She is amazing at her job and she can research things faster than any of us here with just a stroke of her pinky finger," Reid refuted.

West was about to respond to Reid's sharp remark when he looked up and noticed the other profilers at the table staring at him. He cleared his throat, trying to come up with something to say that would excuse his behavior, but chose to dip his head back down and concentrate on the paper in front of him instead.

Reid's phone chirped to life not too long after the acerbic exchange. Since he everyone was in the room he answered the call, putting it on speaker for all to hear, "Garcia? Did you find anything?"

"Aw, sweet cheeks, when have you ever known me to come up empty?"

"Garcia, what did you find?" Hotch's voice called out, putting an end to the cute banter.

"Oh sir, I had to make a few phone calls due to the fact that some of these clubs are in the dark ages when it comes to their websites. I mean really, with all the technology that we have at our fingertips today you would think they could come up with something better than a one page spread with broken links. All they would have to do is –"

"Garcia."

"Ah, sorry. Um, anyways, I had to call up a few of the owners and talk to them but I did find out that four of the clubs had a guest D.J. the night our brides frequented. Oh and to answer your next question, yes. Each of the four clubs was one visited by a particular bride the night of her party. Megan went to Déjà vu, Chloe visited the Emerald Ballroom, Kylee enjoyed the Bicycle Club, and Hannah partied at The Vault. The others on the lists were just additional night clubs that were visited when the brides went bar hopping."

"So, did they have the same guest D.J. on their theme nights?" Rossi asked.

"Oh, I didn't say that already? Hm, I guess I didn't. Uh, yes! The each contracted out the same man to help their patrons get their themed night party on."

"A name Baby Girl?" Morgan called out, trying to harness her exuberance.

"Antonio Blevins."

"Garcia, his address?" Reid demanded as he jumped up to check the map.

The effervescent blonde trilled out an address that was immediately pinpointed on the map. "Guys, he's right in the middle of the comfort zone."

Not needing to be told twice the team jumped out of their seats and started moving.

"Alright, we don't have enough evidence to arrest him, but we can bring him in for questioning. Morgan, Rossi, Reid come with me. West and JJ, stay here and prepare a room. We'll be back as soon as we can."

Damien watched as the four men rushed out of the conference room with an air of calm urgency surrounding them. Jealousy oozed out of his every pore, knowing that the kid had taken the spotlight off of him and was banking from his idea. Tilting back in his seat he admitted to himself that the good doctor seemed more difficult to crack than he had anticipated. He needed something more drastic to shake up the kid's confidence, which in turn would affect the boy's ability to work. He just wasn't sure what would do the trick…yet.

* * *

The team were back home by one in the morning. It turned out that Antonio Blevins was the unsub and he had decided to go down in a blaze of glory when the profilers arrived to bring him in for questioning. Hotch though was able to get in a shoulder shot, disarming the man and robbing him of his death by cop. Reid and Rossi searched the house while the others saw to Antonio and found Megan in the basement with a noose around her neck and her hands tied behind her back. Luckily, Antonio hadn't strung her up high enough to kill her yet. Apparently he liked to strangulate his victims slowly, pulling the rope an inch higher every hour, giving her time to think about her promiscuity.

It was found out later that Antonio's trigger had been his own ex-girlfriend's unfaithfulness, which he discovered one night out on a job. Having been so hurt by her adulterous deeds, the man set out to protect others from the same issue. Hence, whenever he saw a flirtatious bride throwing herself at random men at the bar his anger flared up and caused him to hunt her down.

High off of the success and eager to take advantage of a Friday night, Morgan decided to rally the troops for a quick celebration before the bars shut down. He had already rounded up Garcia, JJ, and Savannah and was now moving on to the two men down in the bullpen.

"So West, you care to join us in loosening up? We could celebrate you making it through your first week and your first case," Morgan asked, sitting on the man's desk while he packed up to head home.

West, seeing a great opportunity to integrate himself better with his coworkers was quick to answer, "Sure. I wouldn't mind taking in a few drinks."

"Excellent! Pretty Boy, you in?"

Reid, who was fully entrenched in the paperwork covering his desk, looked up at his friend and simply said, "I think I'll pass."

"Come on. You saved the day with your brilliant connection. That in itself deserves a drink," Morgan prodded.

The doctor's eyes traveled from his friend to Damien's, "I don't think it's a good idea. Anyways, you know I don't drink."

Morgan followed the Reid's line of sight and swore he could feel the tension building up between the two agents.

"Let's get going Morgan. The bars are only going to be open for another hour and I don't know about you but I intend to fit a few beers in before they close. See you on Monday, Dr. Reid," West said, grabbing his bag and making his way to the elevator where the girls were waiting.

The muscular agent crinkled his forehead at the harshness in the new agent's voice, "You want to tell me what's going on between you two?"

"It's nothing Morgan. Just go and have fun," the genius said, avoiding the question.

"This isn't over. I'll call you tomorrow," the man stated before he turned and walked away.

The lanky youth didn't respond to Morgan's threat and turned back to his work. He had just gotten his desk straightened up when he heard Hotch's voice.

"Reid, do you have a minute?" the man asked from his office door.

Realizing that his boss wanted to have their discussion tonight before they both went home for the weekend, the young agent reluctantly said, "I'll be right up."

He took his time, packing his satchel and gathering his thoughts, before he headed up the stairs. The doctor entered the man's office without knocking and saw that his superior was already perched behind his desk waiting his arrival.

"Have a seat," the stoic man said, waving at the leather chair across from him.

"I'd rather stand."

Hotch gave an almost imperceptible nod. "Reid, there are a few things that we need to talk about."

The genius started pacing behind the chair, "Look, Hotch, if this is about what you heard yesterday –"

"Reid, stop," he ordered. "Sit down and listen. I'll give you a chance to talk when I'm through."

Surprised at his boss's tone, the younger man quickly followed orders.

"Reid in all the years we've worked together I have only witnessed your temper four times, not counting yesterday. I know that it takes quite a bit to push you to that point and that you would never flaunt your superiority over another without some sort of trigger. So I'm asking you to tell me what caused that speech."

"I…uh…took offense to something that Agent West said to me," Reid said vaguely.

"Which was?"

"I'd rather not discuss that. It was between the two of us and it's over now," he said, trying to shut down Hotch's line of questioning.

"Alright, well then I've have to ask you what you think happened with the geographic profile yesterday."

"I told you. He gave me a slip of paper with all the addresses written on it. I looked at it, put it down on the table and pinned the locations."

"So then you're alleging that he gave you false addresses initially. What about the piece of paper you handed me later on with the correct ones?" he asked.

Reid bit his lip and looked down at his hands, "It wasn't the same sheet that he handed me earlier."

"Are you going on the record stating that Agent West intentionally deceived you which in turn messed up the profile?" the man questioned sternly.

"Yes, I believe he did."

"What about your head injury?"

"What?"

"You sustained a head injury on the flight to Miami. Is it possible that your injury affected your memory?"

"I-I don't think so," Reid said, touching the wound on his head. "I haven't experienced any other symptoms and it doesn't seem like serious injury."

"Yes, but we didn't get it checked out by a professional. If we bring up accusations against West he could claim that you were out of sorts due to a possible mild concussion," Hotch said, leaning forward to get a good look at his subordinate.

"But I have an eidetic memory. I know that read those addresses correctly the first time."

"Yes, but even your memory is susceptible to damage from an injury. Now I'm not saying that I believe you had some type of miniscule memory issues due to that minor bump but I am saying that West could argue against your accusation."

Frustrated, Reid let out a low growl, "I know what I saw."

"I believe you. But that's not the issue…we would have to prove without a doubt that he knowingly impaired out investigation and I don't think that we can. Besides your head wound there was the other piece of paper that he could sight as evidence. The whole team saw it and you couldn't produce the original one that you went by."

"So you're saying that we have to keep someone on the team that is blatantly damaging our investigations and putting innocent lives in danger? That's rich! He's a probationary agent, just let him go and say that he didn't mesh well with the team," Reid said vehemently.

"First, we don't have concrete evidence of that. But rest assured that Rossi and I will be keeping a close eye on him and looking for any other signs of deceit. The other issue is that he is getting along with everyone else. It seems that you are the only one he's taken an exception to. At the moment, that is not enough to let him go. Now, if it's still occurring by the time he reaches the end of his probationary period than that's another story. According to the bureau protocol I have to give him a fair chance to prove himself. After sixty days if he is still not complementing our team then I can pass on him," Hotch stated matter-of-factly. "So, I'm asking you now, can you work amicably with the man for the rest of his trial run?"

Annoyed that there didn't seem to be any other option, Reid answered, "I can be professional."

Hotch sighed, "That's not what I'm asking. I need our team to work cohesively and I'm not sure it can if you two have a wall built between you. So, do you think you can stop provoking him by rising to his challenges and focus on what is important?"

Incredulous that Hotch was questioning his work ethic, Reid forced out between clenched teeth "Yes, sir. If you haven't forgotten I was a child prodigy that attended high school with kids six years my senior. I put up with all sorts of bullying and still managed to graduate as valedictorian. I believe that I have proven over and over again that I can work with aggressive personalities. So yeah, I can handle anything that West throws at me and still work flawlessly with the team. I'm just amazed that you actually asked me that. Apparently you don't know me as well as you claim."

"What do you mean?"

"Just that you said earlier that you've worked with me for over ten years and you've only seen my temper four times. Might I ask, how many times have you seen me act unprofessionally with anyone on this team or the local law enforcement? Why now all of a sudden are you doubting my behavior? Why did you even have to ask? It's just like high school actually. All the teachers and principals knew what type of student I was and knew the other kids were tormenting me. Yet they told me to stop antagonizing the bullies and excused their actions against me. And you know what? I never once went out of my way to garner anyone's attention. I only provoked them after I was already in too deep for it to make a difference, sometimes it was just too hard to guard my tongue while they beat the shit out of me. It's funny, I never expected to run into that kind of thing again. And I really never thought that you would essentially be playing the role of my former principal. Now, if that's all, I think I'm going to head home," Reid said heatedly before jumping out of his chair and leaving a speechless unit chief in his wake.

Aaron could only stare dumbfounded at his doorway wondering when he lost control over the conversation.

"Knock knock," Rossi said sliding sleekly through the open door. "I take it your talk didn't go as well as planned."

Hotchner shook his head from side to side, "No, it didn't. It started off alright. I told him that I knew that Damien must have incited his behavior yesterday. He admitted that he had taken offense at something the other man said but he refused to tell me what. Anyways, from there we went on to discuss the geographic profile. Reid maintains that West gave him fake addresses on a different piece of paper."

"Do you believe him?"

"Of course I do!"

"But?"

"But there is no evidence, especially since he suffered a head wound on our flight out and the original sheet of paper is missing," Hotch said despondently.

"So what now?"

"Well I have to follow protocol and allow Agent West to work with us for his whole probationary period. But based upon the concerns you've already brought to my attention and the things we've observed over the course of the case I am hesitant to take him out into the field again."

"Okay, so we keep him in the office and ride out the next fifty-five days as smoothly as we can," Rossi suggested.

"It doesn't work like that Dave and you know it. We've got to give him the opportunity to show off his skills. Only, that doesn't mean that you or I can't keep a close watch on him. We will be accompanying him wherever he goes."

"And what about Reid?"

Hotch shook his head, "I pissed him off when I told him that as of right now there was no tangible evidence to support dismissing West from the team. And…and then I asked him if he would be able to work harmoniously with the team for the duration of West's try out."

Rossi sharply sucked in some air through his teeth. "I'm sure he didn't take that well."

"Well, you saw his exit."

"That I did."

The unit chief ran his right hand through his hair, "I hope I didn't just ruin the years of trust I had built up with him."

"Well, if it was anybody else I would say to give them time. But Reid's different…it's going to take more than that to heal this wound," Rossi said sagely.

"I know…"

* * *

The party of profilers were all seated around a table at the local 24 hour diner. They had just gotten done drinking their stress away and decided to top off the night with some greasy sustenance.

"Morgan! My chocolate god of thunder….order me some chili cheese fries and mozzarella sticks, I've gotta use the potty," Garcia slurred as she pushed back her chair. "You girls coming?"

JJ immediately popped up out of her seat, "Of course! Can't let you go by yourself."

"You coming Vanny?"

"Vanny?" Savannah asked.

"Yeah, I haven't come up with a good nickname for you yet," Garcia admitted. "But don't worry, when I do, you will be amazed."

"I'm already honored. And yeah…I'm coming too. Do me a favor and order for me too, chocolate thunder," she said with a shimmering smirk on her lips.

"Aw, I see how it is," Morgan called after the girls with a lighthearted grin on his face.

Damien smiled at the playful banter and turned to Derek, "Why is it they always go in groups?"

"I don't know man…but it never fails." The darker agent's face suddenly lost its happy appearance and took on a more serious one, "Hey, I've gotta ask you a question."

"Shoot."

"What is your problem with Reid?"

West, who had been expecting this question to come up sometime, answered carefully, "We didn't really hit it off on Monday. Since then the animosity has been brewing."

"And what about you antagonizing him?"

"What do you mean?"

"JJ told me about how you were outright critical of him yesterday when discussing the bachelorette parties," Morgan stated with a slight bite to his voice.

"Well, I've been known to get pretty intense when on a case. He just happened to be on the receiving end of it," West said, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

"_Well_, I'm telling you here and now that you need to back off. Because if you mess with my boy, you mess with me. And I won't stand for you putting him down and causing him grief. Do. You. Get. Me?"

West, surprised by the intensity in Morgan's voice, scooted his chair back from the table, "I get you. I never meant for it to get like this. I tried a few different times to start fresh with him but he just brushed me off. Look, on Monday I'll try to bury the hatchet with the kid."

Morgan processed the words and softened his tone a bit, "Well, Reid can be hard to get through to. He doesn't trust easily. You have to earn it with him. Just let him see the real you, the one I hung out with tonight. He'll start to come around."

"Who will come around?" JJ asked, suddenly appearing at the table with the rest of the girls.

"Don't worry about it ladies," Morgan said. "Well, what did you girls gossip about?"

"Oooooohhhh! Did you know that your chocolate pudding, yeah Savannah that's your nickname, did you know that she is afraid of spiders? There was one in her bathroom stall and she flipped out! Screaming and squealing until she got the door unlocked. She had tears running down her face and I swear she was going to have a panic attack."

"Garcia!"

"Sorry, but it was too funny to keep between us."

"Is that so, puddin?" Derek asked impishly, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

"Yes," she admitted, pushing his arm away. "I am deathly afraid of spiders."

"Oh, this is going to be fun," he teased.

"Come on! I can't be the only one here afraid of spiders."

"Oh but you are," JJ chimed in. "But don't worry, I'm afraid of the woods. They're all dark and spooky. You never know what's lurking in them."

"And I have a phobia of stickers!" Garcia said, her words all garbled.

"Stickers? I never knew that baby girl."

"Yeah well, they creep me out," she shuddered. "They stick to you, make a disgusting sound when you try to peel them back, and they always leave behind bits of paper you can never remove. Ooooohhhh, I hate them."

"I hate heights," Damien supplied, interjecting himself into the conversation. "What about you Derek? What are you afraid of?"

"Me? Well, I used to be afraid of the dark –"

"Reid still is," JJ blurted out.

"What?" West asked.

"Yeah, a few years ago we were on a case having this same conversation and Reid admitted that he was still afraid of the dark," she explained.

"JJ, I don't think he would appreciate you telling everyone about that," Derek admonished. The agent quickly turned his eyes onto Damien to gauge his reaction. He wasn't too surprised to see the other man's face remaining passive and unaffected by the information, but it didn't take a profiler to catch the faint glimmer that seemed to sparkle in his eyes. He felt a pit developing deep in his stomach and knew that he was going to have to warn Reid about JJ accidentally spilling his secret.

"Huh? Yeah, you're probably right. He's always been private like that. Everybody, forget I mentioned it."

Unfortunately, the damage had already been done and the bubbly blonde had given West all the ammo he needed to continue on his path of tormenting the genius.

* * *

**BTW...I always try to add a little nugget of myself in these stories and Garcia's fear of stickers is totally my own. Like she said they stick to everything and peeling them up is the worst. I know, I'm a little crazy but hey, thought you might get a good laugh at that.  
**

**Take Care!**


	6. Evaluations

**Hi Friends!**

**I'm sorry about all the confusion with the initial posting of this chapter. Here it is!  
**

**So I won't waste your time with why it took so long to update. Let's just say that I hate Comcast! (I apologize to anyone out there that works for that company, but they really suck in my area!)**

**Thanks for all the reviews! I tried to reply to each of you this last time! I love hearing your thoughts, keep 'em coming!**

**Please forgive any errors. I really didn't take too much time to edit this due to the long wait I put you through.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Morgan dropped the phone away from his ear after getting Reid's voicemail for the third time that morning.

"What's the matter, honey?" Savannah asked as she curled up on the couch next to him.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and drew her close, "I can't get ahold of Reid."

"Is that odd? It is the weekend after all, maybe he's out doing something."

"I guess…"

"I can hear a 'but' at the end of that sentence."

"But I called his cell phone. He always answers his cell phone," Morgan said.

"He could be in a library or at the movies," she offered, leaning her head on his shoulder.

Derek squeezed her tight, "Yeah, perhaps your right."

"You know, if you're so worried about him, why don't you stop by his house?"

"Maybe I will…I could grab some Thai food and take a movie with me as a peace offering. We could spend the afternoon together, catching up."

"Peace offering? Why do you need a peace offering? What did you do?" she asked, sitting up from their cuddled position.

"I was a little pushy with him last night about a work issue. It wasn't anything too bad, but I told him I would call him today to finish our conversation," he explained.

"So he's probably not answering his phone because he doesn't want to discuss it. Derek, sweetie, you can't force people to open up if they don't want to. You'll end up alienating him and putting a strain on your friendship," Savannah said.

"Yeah, but you don't know Reid. He always keeps things buried inside, secreted away from everyone. It's like he's worried that he'll burden us with his problems or that we'll think he's weak for having one in the first place. If I don't go over there and badger him about it he'll just keep it inside and allow it to fester. Believe me, I've been manipulating him into using me as his sounding board for years."

"Manipulating? I don't like the sound of that."

Derek sighed, "Okay, perhaps manipulating is the wrong word. How about encouraging? Either way, the end result is the same. He gets to share what's on his mind and I get to help a friend."

"I suppose…he is your friend. You know how to help him better than I do. If you say that's what he needs than I trust you. So why don't you go get dressed and head on over there?"

"You sure?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, I didn't want to ruin any plans you might've made for our weekend together," he said sheepishly.

"Oh sweetie, I was just planning on spending this afternoon shopping with you anyways. I can easily manage that on my own. Why don't you go now and we will meet up for a nice dinner? I'll book us a table at Tre Monti," she suggested, getting up from the couch in order to get ready.

Morgan grabbed her by her wrist before she had gotten very far. He yanked her back down onto his lap and cradled her in his arm. "You know that you are the best, right?"

Savannah gave him a megawatt smile and wrapped her hands around his head, pulling him in for a quick kiss, "I know."

* * *

Reid was in his bedroom when he heard three loud bangs emanating down his hallway. Without even having to look he knew who would be at his door, Morgan. The man had been incessantly calling him all morning and the genius had been purposefully ignoring the ringing. He wasn't interested in telling Morgan about his issues with Agent West, especially since the man had become so distant lately. He had too much going on with making his relationship with Savannah work that he didn't need to deal with Reid's baggage.

Three more raps sounded down the hall, followed by the other man's voice. "Reid? Open up, I just want to talk."

The genius sat down silently on his bed and hoping the other man would leave when he received no answer to his calls.

Suddenly Morgan's voice came out clearer and closer, "I know you're in here, Reid. I can hear you thinking."

Reid let out a weighty breath as he heaved himself up from the springy mattress. He slowly walked down the hallway, smelling the curried scent usually associated with Thai food. "Why are you in my apartment?" he asked, emerging from the hall.

Derek held up his free hand and showed his friend a keychain hanging from his index finger, "Did you forget that you gave me a spare key?"

"No, I didn't forget. And I also happen to remember that I gave that to you for emergencies only."

"I made a judgment call. This is an emergency."

"How?"

"Well, my best friend is going out of his way to avoid me. If that's not an emergency than I don't know what is. Now, why don't you get some plates out so we can eat this before it gets cold," Morgan said, heading toward the kitchen to unpack the food.

Rolling his eyes, the doctor followed the other agent into the kitchen, knowing that Morgan wasn't going to leave until he got what he came for. He reluctantly opened his cabinet and retrieved a couple of plates. He handed one to Morgan and kept the other for himself, loading it up with some yellow curry and a few Thai spring rolls drizzled with plum sauce. Once his plate was full he shuffled back into his living room and sat down on the couch.

The muscular man plopped down next to him and tucked into his food. The men didn't speak until the last bit of food was wiped clean off of Morgan's plate. Reid, on the other hand, barely touched the free fare. Instead he just pushed around the food with his fork in an effort to make it look like he'd eaten some of it.

"What time did you end up leaving last night?" Morgan asked after he sat his plate on the coffee table.

"Why don't you just cut to the chase and tell me what you really want to know?"

"Okay…I want to know what's going on between you and West?"

"I told you last night that it was nothing," Reid said defensively.

"Yeah and if it wasn't obvious last night, than I hope it is now. I don't believe you," Morgan countered, leaning back into the couch.

Reid stood up and started pacing. "It doesn't matter if you don't believe me. It's none of your business. Now will you just drop it?"

"I would if I thought it was -"

"Was what? Something I could handle?"

"That's not what I was going to say, Reid."

"Wasn't it?"

"No. I was going to say, if you would have let me finish, that I would drop it if I thought it wasn't going to effect the team."

"Oh, you too now?"

"Me too, what?"

"You're questioning whether or not I can function on this team with West around, just like Hotch."

"Like Hotch? What are you – no, you know what, never mind that right now. You're getting it all wrong. I'm thinking of going to Hotch and telling him the West isn't a good fit for our team. I've seen the way he's been antagonizing you and how he can't handle anyone else making meaningful connections on the case. It seems like he's in it for the limelight and not for the victims and their families."

"What does it matter if he's antagonizing me? I can handle it. He's not any worse than the rest of the obtuse minds I've dealt with before," Reid defended.

"It's not that I don't think you can handle it. In fact, we all know that you can take care of yourself. It's just that you shouldn't have too," Morgan said.

"Yeah well…Hotch made it clear last night that West is with us for the duration of his probationary period, barring any sort of grievous faux pas on his part. I'm just going to merely interact with the man on a professional level for the rest of his fifty-five days," Reid said, sitting back down on the couch.

Thinking that his best buddy was finally letting his guard down, the other agent ventured to ask the question he was dying to know the answer to, "So what led to all the friction between you two in the first place? All he said was that you two just didn't hit it off on Monday and since then hostility has been building between you two."

"You asked him?"

"Yeah, I wanted to know and you weren't exactly forthcoming last night."

"That's because –"

"Yeah yeah, we already went over this. It's not my business and you can handle it yourself. Look we're beyond that now. So, what happened on Monday?" Morgan asked again, redirecting the conversation away from his talk with West last night. He didn't want to get into the fact that he threatened the other agent on Reid's behalf. He knew the younger man wouldn't appreciate his protective interference.

Reid leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and cupping his head in his hands. He hadn't envisioned telling anyone about his interactions with Agent West, but Morgan seemed genuinely concerned. He decided to give his friend a chance and clue him in to what the genius had been going through for the past week. "To be honest, I really don't know. We were fine throughout most of the day on Monday, but after I got back from dinner with you he got really hostile."

"Like how?"

The genius swallowed down the lump in his throat. He hated sharing experiences that would make him seem weak or vulnerable in another's sight. "Well, on the plane to Miami –"

The profiler's story was abruptly cut off by Barry White's bass voice singing "Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Babe."

The black man jumped at the sound and yanked his cellphone out of his pocket. He didn't need to look at the screen to know that Savannah was calling him. He would have ignored it but he knew his girl must have a good reason for interrupting him or else she wouldn't have called. "Hold that thought, Pretty Boy. I've gotta take this."

He stood up and walked over to the window, "Babe?"

Reid watched as the man tried to calm the woman on the other end of the line. Something seemed to be wrong with her car and Morgan kept telling her to call a towing service. The doctor, sensing that his friend's advice was going unheeded, wasn't surprised when the other agent hung up the phone with a big sigh.

"Uh…I'm sorry man but I've gotta go. Savannah hit a pot hole and flattened two of her tires. She doesn't want to call a tow truck and pay their astronomical prices. So, I need to go change them and take her my spare. Look, what are you doing later? I could come back and we can finish our conversation then," Morgan asked earnestly.

Realizing that he had been pushed to the backburner once again, Reid bound up his feelings of disappointment and rejection up tight and said, "I can't later. I've got a paper due on Monday that I need to finish up. Perhaps some other time."

"Are you sure?" the other agent asked, fully aware that his friend was pulling back into himself.

Reid gave him a watery smile, "Yeah, I'm sure. Go help Savannah. She needs you."

Morgan opened his mouth, wanting to remark that his friend needed him too, but decided to let it go. He had already destroyed his opportunity to get the kid to open up and there was no fixing it now. "Alright then. I'll see you Monday," he called before he let himself out the door, locking it behind him.

"See ya," came the weak response from the forlorn man curled up on the couch.

* * *

Damien strolled off the elevator on Monday morning whistling a song he just heard on the radio called "God's Gift." It was a catchy tune and the words seemed to speak to him. In his hand he had a coffee tray with two grande mugs nestled snuggly in the cardboard confines.

He was fifteen minutes late due to his caffeinated excursion but he didn't mind. It would mean that the rest of the team would be in the office already and they would see him perform his peace offering.

The agent pulled the glass doors open and allowed a small grin to paint his face. He was totally going to have an audience due to the fact that most of his teammates were gathered around Reid's desk.

He inconspicuously walked over to his desk and set down the coffee. "Morning guys! What's up?"

Reid, who was staring at a crossword puzzle, didn't respond to the greeting. In fact, none of the profilers acknowledged his presence. They all seemed captivated by watching the boy work on the classic brainteaser. It wasn't until the younger man set down his pen on the desk and JJ stopped the timer that they all broke free from their trance.

"How long was that?"

The blonde shook her head and said, "Sorry Spence, it took you four minutes and fifty-five seconds."

"I really thought I had it that time," he said, dumping the completed puzzle in the garbage next to his desk.

"Don't worry Boy Wonder, I'll bring you another one next week," Garcia said. "You'll beat your record next time."

He massaged his eyes, not deigning to respond to the woman's encouragement.

"Alright, well I guess it's time to actually get to work," Rossi commented, clapping Reid's shoulder before he made his way back to his office.

"Yeah, I've got at least two piles sitting on my desk awaiting my expertise," Morgan laughed, his eyes catching Damien's as he turned to go.

The two woman were about to wander away, taking West's chances of having witnesses with them, when he pulled the extra cup of coffee out of the holder and stretched it out toward the genius. "Hey man. I picked you up a cup of joe on my way in this morning."

Surprised, Reid eyed the proffered beverage. He raised his eyebrow and turned a confused gaze towards the man.

Noticing the skeptical look on the other man he shook the cup, "Look, it's not poisoned. In fact, I think you'll be surprised. Morgan told me how you take it, a little bit of cream and plenty of sugar."

Still suspicious, Reid reached out and took the cup. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you want to know how I take my coffee? Why are you buying me coffee? Take your pick."

"Oh…well, I realized that we may have gotten off on the wrong foot and I want to extend an olive branch…or rather a coffee cup," he said good-naturedly.

"Um…alright," the profiler said, taking a sip of the beverage. He licked his lips after the first drink and said, "Hmmm, it's just right. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Damien decided he had done enough talking and it was time to cease the mushy apology shit. He sat down at his desk and glanced around the bullpen. It wasn't hard to see that the other profilers had decided to stop to take in the interaction. The girls were peaking around the corner leading to Garcia's office while Rossi and Hotch were perched on the upper level acting like they were engrossed in a conversation. Morgan, on the other hand, wasn't being discrete at all. He was standing by the stairs with his arms cross in front of his chest. Derek caught his eyes and gave him a small nod of approval before turning and walking back to his office. A feeling of triumph ran through West at that recognition and he silently reveled at his success.

The probationary agent refocused his attention back to his desk, getting ready to tackle his first file, when Hotch's voice called out, "Agent West, a word in my office."

Damien looked up at his fearless leader and said, "Of course, sir."

* * *

He shut the ominous oak door behind him and turned toward his supervisor. Hotch was seated in his leather chair with his eyes glued to Damien, as if memorizing every move the man made in order to use it against him later.

"Take a seat," the man said, gesturing at the chair in front of his desk.

Damien silently sat down and crossed his legs.

"I wanted to sit down with you this morning and discuss your progress thus far," Agent Hotchner said, tenting his fingers.

"Sir?"

"I like to keep you updated on my observations and make sure we are on the same page in regards to your growth and position on this team. We will be meeting like this on a biweekly basis from here on out."

"Yes, sir."

Hotchner sat back and began, "So far you have proven yourself proficient and adept at doing consultations. I have looked over each one that you turned in last week and pretty much agreed with all of your conclusions. Of course, there were some things that you missed, as you saw on the notes I left you, but overall you are quite insightful and intuitive when it comes to profiling. Additionally, you were an integral part of the team in Miami, making that connection between the D.J.s and the bachelorette parties. You connection was the lead we needed to guide us toward ultimately apprehending the unsub."

Damien felt a surge of confidence flow through his veins. It seemed as if his efforts were being seen by the right people and getting him the notice he deserved.

"So, Agent West, what are your feelings about how last week went?"

The probationary agent, too busy preening under the praise, missed his superior's question. "I'm sorry. What was that?"

Agent Hotchner cleared his throat and restated his inquiry, "I was hoping to hear your thoughts pertaining to your first week with the team."

West straightened up, surprised at the request. "Oh…well, sir…I felt like last week was very successful. I found doing consultations both interesting and invigorating. It felt good to give local police precincts the help they needed to guide them into arresting their unsubs. And I really enjoyed going out into the field and putting a living breathing profile into action. It was amazing how working together with the team led us to finding the unsub. Overall, I couldn't have imagined a better week."

Hotch nodded his approval at the conclusion to the man's speech. "This week you will continue working on consultations. I want you to make it your goal to start going deeper with your descriptions. You might find a trip down to archives useful in helping you write up any complex consults. There are plenty of closed cases down there with useful insights. They can also help give you a new perspective if you find yourself stuck. Furthermore, when we go out in the field I want you to refine your relations with the local law enforcement and focus on teamwork."

The feelings of victory that Damien had felt moments ago quickly drained out of his system, "Teamwork?"

The supervisory special agent's eyes narrowed at the question. "Yes. As of right now the place that you need to make your biggest improvement is inter-team relations. In particular, you seem to be struggling when working with Dr. Reid. Now, I'm not telling you that you two need to become friends. This is a job not a social experiment. What I am saying is that I've noticed some clear tension between the two of you and it hampered our last case. Whatever is going on needs to be resolved, because in the end it will be you and not Dr. Reid that leaves this team if the conflict continues. Do I make myself clear?"

The probationary agent shifted in his seat in discomfort. This was not what he expected after the glowing praise he had received earlier. "I…uh…yes, sir. I understand and I agree with you and your thoughts regarding Dr. Reid and myself. Therefore, I have already started to put forth an effort to bury the hatchet with the young man. Hopefully we won't have to discuss this again," he said confidently.

"Good. Now, Garcia has some new cases for you to get started on. Please remember to continue running your completed consultations by Agent Rossi or myself for approval before you send them out."

Realizing that he had been dismissed, West stood up and started making his way to the door. His hand was in mid-turn of the knob when Hotch's voice cut through the room.

"Oh, and Agent West there is just one more thing." Behind him West could hear the leather chair creak as Hotch leaned forward. "If I ever find any concrete proof that you tampered with the case in Miami or if I even think that you are purposefully impairing another investigation I will make sure you lose your badge. That is all."

West's face flushed in embarrassment upon the completion of his dressing down. Wordlessly, he flung the door open and walked out of the office, intent on putting space between him and his superior. All feelings of pride and contentment from the initial part of the meeting had flown out the window and were replaced with humiliation and shame. He knew then that any ground he had made this past week was lost due to his stupidity.

The angered man stomped his way back down into the bullpen and straight to his desk. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, mainly focusing on where he went wrong in Miami. As he thought long and hard about it he realized that he had been way too obvious with his scheme and that this team of profilers had definitely lived up to their reputation. If he wanted to carve out a niche for himself on this team he wasn't going to be able to do it by transparently attacking one of their own.

West found his gaze wandering over to the boy on the other side of the divider. The kid was hunched over some file vigorously writing notes in the margins. The right corner of his lip was currently being worried between his teeth as his sinuous hand flew down the page. From this angle the younger man seemed so vulnerable and weak, a perfect target.

So what to do?

He continued to ruminate on the agent for a few more minutes before he realized that his initial plan of showing up the other agent was still a good one. For what better way to prove his worth than to show the profilers that he was someone they could count on when their Jack of All Trades is out of commission?

Damien decided then and there that he needed to stay the course and continue to usurp the boy's position on the team. The only thing that he needed to change was his way of going about it. From here on out he was going to have to be more subtle and devious. He would take the kid unaware and make sure that any wrongdoing wasn't easily traced back to him. Thank God that he had already started to make peace with the annoying genius this morning. His efforts seemed to put the rest of the team at ease and perhaps Hotch might not keep such a keen eye on his interactions with the brat. Besides, after his talk with Morgan on Friday night he had known that his trickery needed to be more discrete. This was just the kick in the ass he needed to reevaluate his methods and refine his plan.

Smiling at his insightful realizations, the crafty man reached forth and grabbed a file off of the pile in front of him. It was time to get to work.


	7. Sleeping Arrangements

**Hi Friends!**

**Happy Labor Day Weekend! I hope you all get to rest up and enjoy the holiday.**

**Thanks for reviewing, reading, following, and favoriting the story! I wasn't able to respond to your lovely reviews this time due to the fact that I am now back to work. Hence the longer span between chapters too. Anyways, I hope you are still enjoying the tale. This chapter isn't very exciting but I've got things up my sleeve for future installments.**

**Please forgive my poor editing skills. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Spencer heard the door to Hotch's office close with a thud. Based on the heavy trudging footsteps he figured that Agent West's talk with their supervisor must not have gone very well. Knowing that the other man was probably in a bad mood, the genius kept his head down and continued to work one the file that was spread out before him.

The chair across the way from his squeaked as the other agent's heavy load sat down to rest in the well-worn leather. Out of the corner of his eye, Reid could see that West was lost in thought. He knew that whatever had gone on in that office had more than likely involved him and he wasn't too keen on finding out how Damien handled it. So the younger man refocused his thought pattern and allowed himself to become lost in his work.

It wasn't until hours later that he looked up and that was due to West calling out, "Do you want a refill?"

Reid blinked his eyes as if he was coming out of a trance and looked over to the other agent. "Huh?"

"Your coffee. I noticed that you drained the cup I got you about an hour ago. Do you want me to get you some more?"

"Oh…uh…y-you don't have to do that," he said, stumbling over his words.

"I know I don't have to, but I offered anyways," Damien retorted with a sweet smile.

"Alright," was all Spencer said, turning back to his work.

A few minutes later a steaming mug of caffeine found its way back to his desk courtesy of one Damien West. Reid looked up at him, surprised that the man gone out of his way to use Reid's favorite mug, and said, "Thank you."

"No problem. We are teammates after all."

Reid just gave a hum of acknowledgement. He took a sip of the hot beverage and was pleased to find that yet again Agent West had added just the right amount of cream and sugar. Unfortunately, while the drink was sweet, the profiler's thoughts had turned sour.

What had caused this sudden swing in personality? Sure, he figured that Hotch had probably reprimanded the guy for his behavior on the last case, but that was just this morning. Damien had already bought him a coffee long before his talk with their supervisor. Was it Morgan? Did he say something to the other agent? His friend had admitted to talking to him on Friday night. How intense was the conversation? In the end, was this man truly trying to reach out to the genius or was he just trying to save face in front of the other profilers?

"You know, if you keep staring at me I might do tricks," West said wryly, startling Reid out of his thoughts.

"What?"

The pudgy agent held up his hands as if to calm the young man down. "It's a joke. You've been staring at me since I brought back the coffee."

"I have? Oh…I'm sorry. Sometimes I get a little…uh…lost in my head," he apologized sheepishly.

"It's no problem, really. It happens to me all the time."

Reid started to turn back toward his desk when Garcia's shrill voice rang out from the round table room, "League of Extraordinary Profilers unite!"

Agent West glanced up at the bright orange ball of energy and said, "I take it we have a case."

"Yeah…we better get up there before she uses our nicknames in front of the whole office."

Damien pulled a fake frown, "What? You don't want everyone hearing her call you a mushy little sweet pea?"

Reid chortled at the man's comment and followed him up the stairs to the conference room.

* * *

"So someone is managing to bump into random strangers on the street and inject them with a poison without them even knowing? How? I mean…if someone poked me with a needle I would know it," Garcia stated in disbelief.

"You're right sweetness, normally you would feel something so obvious. But the unsub is distracting the victims by injuring them more severely elsewhere," Morgan postulated.

"That's why Emily Speer had a broken toe, Haley Lamar's knees are scraped up, and Keyaira Brightwell suffered from a concussion. The unsub must have either tripped them or pushed them down, effectively diverting their attention from the injection she administered to the flesh of their bicep," Spencer explained, swiveling in his chair.

"Why do you think the unsub is a female?" Damien asked.

"Because more often than not poison is the M.O. of a female unsub. It's neat and tidy. A poisoned victim doesn't leave much of a mess behind. We've found out over the years that women like for things to be nice and orderly, even when they are committing a crime," Reid described in a textbook manner.

"That and the poison of choice was a mixture of potassium hydroxide which is a major ingredient in cuticle remover," Hotch cut in before the genius could go off on a long rant describing the rest of the characteristics of a poisoner. "Alright, we'll discuss the rest on the flight to El Paso. Wheels up in thirty."

* * *

It took the team a little over six hours to complete the trip to Texas, so it was well into the afternoon when they arrived at the station. Hotch had already assigned everyone to their jobs and the profilers wasted no time in getting right to work.

As usual Reid was confined to the conference room the local police had set aside for the FBI agents. He was busy sticking different colored flags into the map and analyzing it with a critical eye. Behind him sat Damien rifling through the files trying to find some connection between the victims.

The two men had been working noiselessly at their respective tasks for a couple of hours. The silence was no longer tense like down in Miami. Rather, it fostered a comfortable atmosphere that was typical of focused coworkers. Anyone walking in the room would have never guessed that just three days ago the two agents had been at odds against each other.

The peaceful environment mood was shattered when Reid finally stepped away from the map and flopped himself down in a chair at the head of the table.

Damien looked up at the genius and watched as he pushed his Styrofoam mug back and forth between his hands. "What's wrong?"

The coffee cup stopped its journey in Reid's right hand as the profiler looked up at his coworker. "I couldn't discern a pattern from the given points of data."

"Yeah…so? Isn't that normal when we have so little to go on?"

Spencer hung his head glumly and said, "Yes, it is."

"So…why are you acting like someone kicked your puppy?"

"I don't have a puppy. In fact, I've never had a pet. How can I look like someone with an injured animal if I've never experienced it?" Reid asked with a perplexed look.

An exasperated sigh emitted from West's mouth, "Dude, it's a figure of speech."

"Oh…yeah…I knew that," Spencer muttered, clearly embarrassed at missing the meaning of such a simple expression.

"So?"

"So what?"

"So why are you upset with the lack of a developing pattern? I mean...I know you're a genius, but even you can't make something out of nothing," Damien implored with a look of concern, despite his inward cringe at how caring he was coming off in this conversation.

Reid's chair scraped across the tile floor as he stood up and turned back toward the map. "Because with this job the only way to get more data by getting more victims."

Realization dawned on the other profiler, "Ah…I guess I didn't think of it that way." He then got up and stood behind the other agent, trying to see if he could spot a pattern that the genius might have missed.

"That really sucks," he continued. "We have to wait for someone else to die just to narrow down the profile," Damien said, actually feeling bad for the unnamed woman out there who was unwittingly going to suffer.

"Yeah...sucks…," echoed Reid as he twisted around and flash Damien a strained smile.

West, in an effort to build a better rapport with the kid, put his hand on the boy's bony shoulder and squeezed it in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. He felt a flinch spirit through the genius's body the moment his hand made contact. He quickly pulled away and turned to walk back to his seat, relishing in the fact that the other profiler gave him another piece of information to file away for his future use.

* * *

Throughout the evening the rest of the team trickled in from completing their respective tasks. The new information had been shared, discussed and added to the evidence boards. Unfortunately, it lead them nowhere.

The team was clearly frustrated and showing signs of exhaustion after such a long day.

"Alright, we're going to call it a night. We need to get some rest and come back refreshed tomorrow."

No one said anything against Hotch's decision. It was one of his common commands and they all knew there would be no arguing with the supervisory special agent.

The agents quickly cleaned up the paper that had been strewn across the table and discarded the trash from their carry-out dinners. They then filed out of the conference room and into the two SUVs that were at their disposal.

It didn't take very long to drive to the local motel and soon the group found themselves standing in the lobby. Hotch, who was in charge of checking in, walked up to the front desk and conferred with the owner. In a matter of minutes he was back among the profilers handing out room assignments. He handed JJ her own key then tossed one at Rossi and the other at West. "Morgan you're with Dave and Reid you'll be bunking with West."

A wide-eyed expression covered Morgan's face, "Uh…Hotch…"

"Not now Morgan. Everybody get some rest. We need to be back at the station by seven."

Hotch didn't wait for any response before he started off down the hallway. Morgan, upset about the room arrangements, ran after the man and stopped him before he opened the door to his room.

"Hotch, I don't think that Reid should be paired with Damien," Morgan stated, not in the mood for cushioning his concern.

"Morgan, it's imperative that the two of them learn how to work together. They need to be comfortable in each other's presence. Rooming together is a good push in that direction. Besides, they seem to be settling their differences. They worked all day together at the station and they were fine, no incidents," the man explained as he slipped his keycard into the slot.

"I know that they need to get along, but I don't like it Hotch," Derek started. "I mean, just a few days ago West was going out of his way to antagonize Reid. Now…all of a sudden…he's his friend? People don't change that fast." That and the man knew about the kid's aversion to the dark. Who knew what type of night was in store for Reid? Morgan found himself torn between telling Hotch and keeping Spencer's fear a secret. His thoughts were interrupted by his friend's next comment.

"They do when their job is at stake," Hotch said cryptically as entered his room. The stern man turned around and met his subordinate's eyes.

"You…uh...oh," the dark agent muttered in realization. "You discussed this with both of them?"

"Morgan, you know I can't disclose the content of our conversations to you."

"Yeah…I know," he said in defeat. "Well, I still don't like it. I think it's too soon."

"Noted. Now go get some sleep," he said shutting the door on the conversation.

* * *

Reid wasn't surprised by the room assignments. He knew that this was Hotch's way of forcing the two agents to work on their relationship. He looked over to Damien as their boss walked down the opposite hallway with Morgan trailing after him. He was sure that Derek was going to lodge a formal protest over this new development, just like he knew that Hotch wasn't going to change his mind.

Damien, also cognizant of his boss's manipulation met the genius's gaze, "Come on. It's this way."

Spencer trudged behind the probationary agent while he pondered the situation. He wasn't worried about the way they would interact when the door closed. Based on how they collaborated back at the police station when no one was around them the waters should stay calm. No, what he was really worried about was falling asleep. Because while he and Damien may have reached an amicable agreement, he wasn't going to run out and tell the man one of his deepest fears. Hopefully if he played his cards right he could get away with keeping the curtain cracked allowing some semblance of light to creep in.

When they opened the door a feeling of disgust passed through both men. The room was a small decrepit shell of what was probably once a popular roadside inn. The wallpaper was worn and yellowed making the red flower bouquets seem sallow. The bedspreads on the two double-beds matched the color of the walls, though they were faded and riddled with cigarette burns. The room smelled acrid and stale, a testament to holes in the blankets and the amount of time spent cleaning the rooms.

"Couldn't the FBI spring for a better place? I mean, our accommodations in Miami were ten times better than this," Damien said with a chuckle, dropping his go-bag on the first bed.

Reid gave a half-hearted laugh, "It depends on who's booking the room. You can tell this wasn't Garcia's choice. She would have a meltdown if she knew we were being put up in such a lackluster environment."

"I bet she would," the man said, sorting through his bag and pulling out his pajamas.

Clearing his throat, Reid ventured, "Do you want the shower first?"

"What? Oh, no…I'm a morning guy. I'll do it first thing tomorrow. You can go for it."

"Are you sure? We might get a call in the middle of the night calling us back in. You might not have time to shower."

"I'm too tired to worry about that right now. I think I'll take the risk. Just let me use the bathroom real quick and then you can have at it," Damien said, shutting the door behind him.

The genius set about rummaging through his bag for his toiletries and nightclothes. He could hear the water running in the sink as West brushed his teeth. He was sure that the other man wouldn't be coming out for a few minutes so he went over to the window and he set about playing with the curtains. As he analyzed the window dressings he was pleasantly surprised to find two sets of shades, one for decoration and one to block the sunlight. He pushed the blockers all the way back and drew the decorative ones closed. It worked perfectly to provide the privacy they needed while allowing the moonlight to filter into the room through the thin fabric.

The door behind him creaked open and West's voice called out, "It's all yours."

Skittering away from the window, Reid grabbed his things and wordlessly retreated to the bathroom. Once he was in there he turned the water on as hot as it would go and stripped down to his boxers. He didn't want to get completely bare until the water was up to temperature. He brushed his teeth quickly while he intermittently stuck his hand in and out of the water to see if it was ready. The motel's hot water heater must have been at the other end of the building because it took forever for the shower to heat up. When it was finally ready he shimmied out of his underwear and hopped into the tub.

The stream of water was disappointing to say the least. The clear liquid seemed to be coming out of the nozzle at a trickle and it was barely warm. There was absolutely no water pressure and Reid was pretty sure that by the time he was done he would feel just as dirty as he did when he got in.

Frustrated, he rushed through his cleaning ritual and turned off the water, the pipes groaning as their exertion came to an end. The genius pushed the plastic curtain out of the way and grabbed one of the tiny cloths this place considered a bath towel. He tried wrapping it around his body and found that it barely covered his frame, so he ended up just mopping up the moisture instead.

As he wiped the droplets of water off his pale skin he felt the exhaustion from the day start to steal its way through his system. He was more than ready for bed but if the bathroom was any indication of the quality of the accommodations he wasn't really looking forward to sleeping on the mattress.

It took only a few more minutes for him to complete his routine and gather up his clothes. He turned out the light in the bathroom before opening the door. As quietly as he could he pushed the door open and was met with a pitch black wall. The profiler blinked a few times, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the moonlight, but they never did.

He felt his heartbeat speeding up when he realized that the pale light had been snuffed out. Damien must have closed the other curtains, cutting off the only available illumination.

Knowing that he couldn't stand frozen in the bathroom doorway all night, Reid placed his free hand on the wall and started to inch his way out. He had made it about three steps before his foot found something to get caught up on. He ended up falling to the floor with a loud thump, sending his belongings sprawling across the floor.

The lamp between the beds flicked on and Damien said groggily, "Are you alright?"

"Uh…yeah. I tripped over the luggage stand," Reid said self-consciously as he reached for his things. "I didn't see it in the dark."

"Oh, sorry. I pulled the curtains shut before I went to bed. I can't sleep with any light in the room. I've been like that since I was a kid," the probationary agent explained while he sat up in bed. "You don't mind, do you?"

Reid hesitated at the man's question, "I…uh…no, it's fine. I just need the light on until I get into bed."

"Okay, cool."

As he pushed himself up off the floor Spencer looked over at the other man getting comfortable under the covers. He heard a content sigh come from West as he turned his back on the light and shut his eyes tight. The genius swallowed the lump in his throat knowing that it was going to be a long night filled with tossing, turning, and nightmares.

* * *

Damien woke up to the tittering of the alarm clock reverberating through the small room. He rolled over onto his back and smacked the off button. Moaning, he stretched out his arms and arched his back off the mattress. After he was done waking up his limbs he turned over and looked at his roommate. He wasn't surprised to note that the younger man's eyes were wide open and alert with dark bags surrounding them.

"You awake?" he asked unnecessarily.

The kid slowly blinked his eyes and turned his head. A hoarse, "Yeah," was his only response.

"I'm going to go shower. Do you need the bathroom first?"

"No."

"Okay…are you alright?" he asked with fake concern.

The boy's long limbs pushed himself up off his back and he set his feet on the floor. "I'm fine. I just didn't sleep very well."

"Yeah, me too. The mattress was terrible and the pillows were too damn flat," Damien commented, knowing that the bedding wasn't what had kept the brat up all night long. "Oh well, I'll make some coffee in that little pot in the bathroom. Hopefully that will help to wake us up."

Reid managed to give him a feeble smile of acknowledgement.

Pleased with how out of it the kid seemed, Damien started whistling a cheerful tune as he got himself ready for the day.

The team had gathered in the lobby once again before heading off to the station. They were about to head out to get a light breakfast when the police chief called Hotch and informed him that another victim had turned up last night. With all thoughts of food abandoned the team broke up into their respective groups; Morgan, JJ, and Rossi heading off to interview the victim's family and Hotch, West and Reid heading back to the station.

"I want you two to drop me off and then go to the coroner's office. See if there is anything we can garner from the bodies that the previous investigators may have missed," Hotch instructed from the passenger seat after he hung up his phone with the M.E.

West, who was helming the SUV, nodded his head, "Sure thing."

Ten minutes later their supervisor was out of the car and Reid was getting into the passenger seat. The genius was out of sorts, needing more than motel coffee to get his body up and running at maximum strength.

Damien noticed the boy's sluggish movements and decided it was time for the next step in his plan. He pulled into a local strip mall and parked the car.

The genius, realizing that they had stopped, looked over to the man, "What are we doing here? The M.E.'s over on State Street."

"I know but I have a headache. I'm going to run into the drug store and grab some aspirin."

Reid frowned, he wasn't comfortable with deviating from Hotch's orders.

Detecting the kid's discomfort, West continued, "Hey. Tell ya what…I'll stop and grab some coffee from the diner next door before I come back. You just stay here and relax. Don't take this the wrong way but you really look like you need the extra caffeine."

"Alright, but make sure it's a large coffee," Reid agreed, leaning his head against the window and closing his eyes.

"Deal," he said as he got out and shut the door.

It didn't take him long to run into the pharmacy and grab exactly what he needed. The older man paid for his purchase and walked over to the diner, smiling when he caught a glimpse of the young man resting in the vehicle.

The diner was almost empty, the breakfast rush had yet to hit. He went up to the counter and ordered two large coffees and sat back waiting for the waitress to fulfill his order. She pushed the to-go cups across the counter and Damien started fixing them up with the accoutrements that had been set out for just that purpose. The pudgy man glanced around in order to make sure the server wasn't watching as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a package of pills with a crescent moon decorating the box. He then took two spoons from off the counter next to him and used them to crush up two tiny blue pills into powder. He dumped the fine particles into the boy's sugary sweet coffee and stirred it up vigorously. It was a good thing the kid took a pound of sugar in his drink, for the inordinate amount of sweetener the boy required would cover up the bitter tasting pills oh so well.

* * *

**BTW...please don't think that this is the extent of my evilness regarding Reid's fear of the dark :) It'll come into play in a larger capacity in the future.**


	8. Backed Into a Corner

**Hi Friends!**

**Super duper thanks to all the reviews, follows, and adds. You guys are awesome and you keep me motivated no matter how tired I am from work. I'm sorry that I haven't been able to respond to you but please know that I love hearing your thoughts.**

**Sorry that the chapter is shorter than normal but I thought something would be better than nothing. **

**Please please please overlook any mistakes.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Around 5:30 a.m. the sun started to break through the darkness. The room began to take on a pale sheen as the light fought against the borders of the blackout curtains in an attempt to infiltrate the room. Reid, who had been lying awake all night long tossing and turning restlessly on top of the lumpy mattress, finally allowed his eyes to close.

Unfortunately, the trill of the alarm clock sounded fifteen minutes later, sufficiently squashing his meager attempt at sleep. He opened his brown eyes up and stared at the stucco ceiling. He heard Damien flip over and turn off the alarm. The genius could feel the other man's eyes on him and wasn't surprised when he asked him a question.

"Are you awake?"

It took all his effort to not roll his eyes at the unnecessary query, "Yeah."

"I'm going to go shower. Do you need the bathroom first?"

"No."

"Okay…are you alright?"

Pushing himself up off the bed, Reid replied, "I'm fine. I just didn't sleep very well." Like he was going to admit to the other man that he was up all night due to the lack of light.

He didn't bother to listen to West's response and only offered him a weak smile before he took off to the bathroom. The younger man waited until he heard the water running before he decided to get up and get dressed for the day.

He quickly donned his conservative outfit and pulled out his brush from the bag. He went over to the full length mirror attached to the wall and started to tame his tangled trusses. Behind him he could hear Damien singing a song through the spray of the water. "At least one of us got a good night sleep," he muttered as he examined the purple bruises that encompassed his eyes.

An annoying chirping sound came from the nightstand that was positioned between the two beds. Reid turned in annoyance and went and picked up his phone.

"Reid."

"Good morning Pretty Boy. Are you and West planning on joining us for breakfast? We're all meeting in the lobby in ten minutes," Derek's dulcet tone came from over the phone.

"Yeah, we'll be there."

"Excellent. See you soon," the man said before hanging up on his end.

Reid pocketed his phone and turned toward the bathroom. He was about to go knock on the door and tell Damien to get a move on when the man sauntered out dressed to the nines and with his hair perfectly quaffed. Spencer raised an appraising eye, "I guess you're ready then."

"Yeah, I forgot that I packed this suit in my go-bag last week and it's all I've got to wear. Oh well, looking good never hurt anyone."

"Yeah…right. The team is meeting down in the lobby in ten minutes for breakfast. It'll only take me…a few more minutes to get ready, but…you can go on without me if you want to," Reid said, yawning intermittently between his words.

"Nah, I'll wait. I've got to straighten up my stuff anyways," Damien explained, turning toward his bag in order to hide his pleased smile at the boy's obvious exhaustion.

Spencer nodded and made his way into the bathroom in order to finish his morning rituals.

* * *

The two agents were the last to arrive in the motel lobby. The others had already gathered together by the quaint fireplace and were engaged in various conversations when they approached.

"Morning," Damien called out as they neared the group.

Four heads turned toward the booming voice at once. A few "good mornings" were issued in response to the friendly greeting as they made room for the two agents.

"What took you guys so long? You're almost thirty seconds late," Rossi jibed good-naturedly.

A small look of panic flitted across Reid's features, "Oh uh…I…uh…I was –"

"Relax Reid, he was only joking," Hotch said, cutting off the profiler's explanation.

"I knew that."

Morgan snorted, "Sure ya did, kid."

The group laughed at the ribbing and started to discuss their breakfast options. While JJ and Rossi argued back and forth over the virtues of attempting to eat at a sit down restaurant instead of fast food Morgan turned to his lanky friend. "Hey, did you sleep alright last night?"

The genius rubbed his eyes, "Yeah."

"Seriously? 'Cause you look like the dead."

Reid winced at his friend's unfortunate choice of words, "Well, the mattress was terrible and it kept me up for a little while. So I wouldn't say it was the most comfortable night's sleep I've ever had but I'll survive."

Morgan, not buying the kid's excuse for a minute, was dying to ask him if his sleeplessness had anything to do with the dark, but he knew Reid wouldn't want him to bring that up in front of everyone. So, against his better judgment he let it drop for now.

All of a sudden Hotch's phone started ringing. The stoic man glanced at the screen before answering the call, "Detective Witt?" The man's facial expression never changed as he listened to the man on the other end of the line. "We'll be right there," was the only other thing he said before hanging up the phone. Ever the leader, he looked at his team and minced no words, "They found another body. Morgan and Rossi go to the victim's house and get started on victimology. JJ, go with them and talk to the family. Reid and West, you two are with me. We need to meet with the detective one more time before we present the profile."

Once the orders were issued the team broke off into their respective tasks. Reid, still feeling lethargic after his inadequate night's sleep, had no problem with getting in the back of the SUV and allowing one of the other agents to drive.

Halfway through the drive Hotch's phone went off again and this time it was the M.E. Apparently their unit chief wasn't pleased with what the man had to report and subsequently decided to send Reid and West to go reexamine the bodies. Reid, displeased that he was still being teamed up with West, sat silently in the backseat until they dropped off their boss.

As he hopped up into the now vacated passenger seat, the genius took a good look at his partner. The man, while having been pleasant yesterday, still hadn't garnered Reid's trust. There was just something off about him. Of course, the genius was happy that they had been able to work and room together yesterday with no incidents, but he still didn't believe that someone like Damien could change his ways in such a short amount of time. In the end, he decided that the best way to deal with the other agent was to just keep his guard up.

Satisfied with his decision didn't even realize that his eyes had started to droop shut. It took the parking of the car and the cut off engine to bring him out of his haze. He sat up straight in his seat and looked out the window, expecting to see their destination but his eyes were met with the sight of a strip mall instead, "What are we doing here? The M.E.'s over on State Street."

Damien gave him some sort of excuse about having a headache and needing to grab some medicine. Reid didn't like it but the offer of a fresh cup of coffee cut off his protests. He really needed the caffeine after last night and wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It didn't take too long for the other man to get back to the vehicle with the promised beverage. He handed Reid's over to him and set his own down in the cup holder.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it," West said as he pulled out into traffic.

The veteran profiler took a sip of the hot coffee, swishing it around in his mouth before swallowing it. He scrunched up his nose at the abnormally bitter aftertaste that was left on his buds. It was strange, the coffee had been perfectly sweetened to his liking with plenty of cream but yet it tasted off. He took another drink and got the same results. The coffee connoisseur smacked his tongue around in his mouth trying to determine the new taste.

"Something wrong?"

Reid cleared his throat, "Uh…does your coffee taste alright to you?"

West took a pronounced sip and let out a satisfied moan, "Oh yeah. It's just what I needed this morning too. Why? What's wrong with yours?"

"It's leaving a bitter taste on my tongue."

The other man chuckled, "It is coffee you know. It's always bitter, no matter how much sugar you put into it."

"I know…but this is different than usual."

"Well maybe it's the beans they used at the diner. I'm sure they didn't splurge on the best Columbian brew available. Their discount brand is probably upsetting your dignified taste buds."

Taking another sip, Reid conceded, "I suppose you're right. Though, I will argue against you saying that my tastes are dignified. The majority of the time I only drink whatever is at the local station and they never have the expensive stuff."

"Touche. Oh, looks like we're here."

Reid dropped the subject as the two got out of the SUV and made their way into the coroner's office.

* * *

The visit with the M.E. was a bust. They didn't get any additional information from inspecting the bodies and the newest victim's demise was cut and dry. Feeling slightly defeated, Reid flopped back into the passenger seat and closed his eyes. Exhaustion was starting to take over and his body was urging him to make up for the hours of sleep he lost last night.

Beside him he could hear Damien getting into the SUV and buckling his belt. The car lurched forward and started to pick up speed. Reid knew that in optimal traffic conditions they would be back at the station in fifteen minutes, plenty of time for a quick cat nap.

The profiler could feel his mind get to that fuzzy place that was the border between sleep and wakefulness when West woke him up with a question.

"How did you get that scar on your neck?"

The haze that had overtaken his brain was immediately banished as Reid opened his eyes and cocked his head at the other man. "What?"

"That scar on the right side of your neck. How'd ya get it?"

Spencer's right hand automatically flew to his neck and started rubbing the mark. "I…uh…I got shot earlier this year."

"You got shot in the neck and lived? Damn! That's amazing…I mean…not the fact that you got shot but the fact that whoever was doing the shooting had that bad of an aim," Damien gushed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Reid said defensively, not liking how West was phrasing his comment.

"No…I didn't mean his aim was bad because you lived…it's just, people don't usually walk away from neck wounds. You got crazy lucky," the man backpedaled.

Wincing at the feeling of the rough skin between his thumb and index finger, Reid replied, "Yeah…lucky."

Hearing the unhappy tone to the boy's comment, Damien decided to push the kid further. "What? You'd rather be dead?"

"What? No! That's not…that's not what I was thinking."

"Well than what is it?"

"It…it's nothing."

"Sheesh," West muttered to himself loud enough for Reid to hear. "You would think you'd want to share such an epic tale."

"Look, no offense but I really don't know you and the story behind it is kind of personal. Besides we haven't been on the best of terms and we just started to get along yesterday. So it really shouldn't be that much of a surprise that I don't want to share something with you," Reid fired off at hearing the man's statement.

"Calm down, kid. I'm sorry that I brought it up," Damien said. "Just forget I mentioned it."

Reid was about to correct West's use of the word "kid" again when the car screeched to a halt in front of the station. The probationary agent jerked the gear shift into park and flung his door open, fleeing the vehicle without another word. The genius, slightly stunned by the man's exit, grabbed his coffee from the console and followed the other agent into the building.

Only Agent Hotchner was in the present in the conference room when Reid entered. The supervisory agent was busy talking to Garcia and didn't acknowledge the two men.

"Have you found any female acquaintances that the victims have in common yet?"

"I'm sorry Boss Man but that is one tall order. I mean…there is just no way to really gather that information. The search parameters are just too large and I have no idea how to narrow it down," Garcia explained, her hands silent and still.

Hotchner sighed, "Okay, keep combing through their lives and see what you can come up with. We'll work on how to focus your search here. Check back in with me in another hour if nothing comes up."

"Righty-o. Garcia out!"

The unit chief set down his phone and pinched his nose in frustration. "Please tell me you two got something."

Reid had to swallow down his sip of coffee before answering, "Nothing. The M.E. didn't miss anything and there wasn't anything significant about the method."

"Yeah, it was pretty pointless," Damien added.

Unhappy with their answer, Hotch gestured for them to sit down. "That wasn't what I was hoping to hear." He swiveled his seat to look at the evidence board, "I guess the only thing we can do until the others get back is work on helping Garcia reduce her search parameters."

The three men bounced ideas back and forth for another hour. Several times during their brainstorming session Reid had to get up and walk around to stave off the drowsiness that seemed to be clawing at his consciousness. He thought that the coffee would have helped him feel more alert but he'd only had half of the cup before he couldn't take the aftertaste anymore. The weird taste just wasn't sitting right with him. So he had taken to fiddling with the now cold cup while he waited for an opportunity to discard the beverage without the other man noticing him throwing away his gift.

Regardless of the genius's lethargy, the trio came up with a few ideas and sent them over to their tech goddess back in Quantico. The others arrived shortly after and added the information that they had gathered from the victim's family to the board. Unfortunately, nothing new stood out when they compared the details of Monica Hampton's life to the other victims. Essentially, the team had hit a major road block.

"I just don't get how she is picking her victims," JJ said, staring at the board like she hoped the answer would jump out at her.

"Well, she definitely isn't a mutual friend," Garcia called out over the phone.

"Maybe we're looking at this all wrong," Rossi ventured.

Hotch quirked an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

The older agent leaned forward in his seat, "What usually causes a woman to go crazy, for lack of a better word?"

The other agents sat in silence for a few seconds before Rossi answered his own question sagely, "Love."

"But we…had Garcia look into the victims' dating histories. They didn't have any love interests…in common," Reid argued as he tried to fight off more yawns. The drowsiness from earlier was setting in with a vengeance and he found himself dying for a chance to get a fresh cup of coffee.

Damien jumped up and walked to the board. "Maybe they weren't dating…"

All eyes turned to the new man, including the genius's. Reid raked his big brown orbs up and down the man's figure before he decided that since the man's back was turned he could get up and dispose of the spoiled beverage. The profiler had just left his seat when his eye caught on something poking out of the probationary agent's pocket, a package of doxylamine. The man had a box of sleeping pills hanging out of his pants, not aspirin.

Reid's blood froze as he realized the implications of the little blue box peeking out of Damien's trouser pocket.

He had been drugged.

It was the only logical explanation for the intense lethargy that he had been experiencing all morning.

His breath started to speed up as flashbacks to the last time that he had been forcefully medicated rushed back into his mind. Flashes of needles, twinges of cravings, and images of track marks assaulted his thoughts. He had to throw down his hands on the table to support his weight as he knees went weak.

The whole team noticed his sudden change in behavior and they were all out of their seats in an instance.

"Reid?"

"Hey kid, are you alright?"

Someone grabbed his forearm and guided him back into his seat. "Reid? What is it? Do we need to call an ambulance?"

The doctor's panicked windows looked up and met Hotch's concerned gaze. "No! No…I…I'm fine."

He could hear his other teammates scoff at his words. What was he going to do? He couldn't just reach in Damien's pocket and pull out the pills. No, he needed to be smart about this and back the man into a corner. He had to make sure West had no other choice than to admit his deceit.

"Try that again, genius," came Rossi's wry voice.

"I…um…," he rubbed his forehead vigorously with his hand, massaging his temples while he thought quickly.

"Reid? Pretty Boy…are you having another migraine?" Derek's anxious voice asked, piercing his thoughts.

All of a sudden the solution popped into his brain, "Yeah…uh…yes. Actually, I've been trying to stave it off all day but when I got up it got exponentially worse."

Sympathy painted all of his friends' faces.

"I'll go get you a cold cloth to put over your eyes," JJ offered, exiting the room to go find the police station break room.

"Do you need a break?" Hotch asked.

"No…um…really, I'll be fine. But…," he trailed off.

"What?"

Reid turned to West and stared him straight in the eye, "Could I have a couple of those aspirins you bought earlier today? I think they could help."

The remaining team members looked at Reid as if an alien was sitting in his place, but the younger profiler never broke his gaze. It didn't go unnoticed to him that Damien's hand dropped immediately to the box as all the color left the man's face.


	9. This Isn't Over

**Hi Friends!**

**I've been a busy little bee this weekend, churning out a new chapter for ya'll.**

**You guys made me feel so loved with all of your awesome reviews that I couldn't help but free you from the cliffy I left you with last time. So thanks for all your comments, follows, and favorites! They are always welcome!**

**Now I can't promise the next chapter will be out anywhere near as fast as this one. I've got a big test that I need to study for next week...see I'm trying to get my license to become an insurance agent. Yeah, I know, total career change! Scary! Anyways between studying for that and my darling daughter (who just turned 6 months yesterday) I'm going to be a bit busy. I will try to update again sometime next weekend.**

**Please forgive my mistakes!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"Reid?" Morgan asked with disbelief in his eyes.

Hotch was watching the genius with a critical eye while Rossi fixed his stare on Damien. The three alpha males could feel the sudden buildup of tension in the room and they knew that something was about to go down.

The genius, not once breaking his steady gaze from the other man, held out his hand. "Please, my head is killing me."

Damien's fingers started pushing the box deeper into the pocket of his pants. "I…um…ah…I don't have them with me."

"Yes you do. I see them right there," Reid said, nodding toward the box.

At this point the other profilers were catching on to the new agent's strange behavior. Hotch was the first to lend his help, "West, if you're worried about sharing I can assure you I'll reimburse you the cost of the pills."

West's head jerked toward his superior's voice, "No…it's not that. I just…I just don't like handing out drugs. You know…those types of things can get you into trouble."

Rossi decided to step in now too, "Really, when was the last time you've heard about someone on the news getting fired for handing out Tylenol?"

"You can n-never be t-to careful," Damien stammered, stepping back in order to put some distance between him and the profilers.

JJ chose that moment to come in with the cool rag. She handed it off to Reid before she noticed anything was wrong. "What's going on guys?"

"Reid just asked West for some of his aspirin," Morgan said with emphasis on the word aspirin.

The blonde looked back and forth between the two men, "Reid? Since when do you take medicine?"

"Since now. This migraine is killing me," the agent said, frustrated that she chose to bring up his aversion to medication.

"Look kid, if your headache is that bad I doubt that my medicine is going to help. I only buy the weak stuff. I'd be more than happy to run out and buy you some migraine strength stuff. Th-that is if you want me to," Damien offered, backing all the way to the door.

Hotch, tired of this game his two agents seemed to be playing, stepped forth and put a stop to it, "West, just give Reid some of your medicine so we can get back to work. We have more important things to do than worry about the strength of your pills."

"Sir, I'd rather not," Damien protested lamely one last time.

"And why is that?" Hotch asked harshly.

"Because he doesn't have any aspirin in his pocket," Reid supplied. "They're sleeping pills."

Confusion overtook the faces of his fellow agents while Agent West let out a nervous laugh.

"Okay, what is going on here? Reid, start talking," Hotch said with finality.

The doctor pushed himself up out of his seat and glared at his nemesis, "Earlier before we went to the coroner's office West stopped off at the drug store. He claimed he had a headache and needed to get some aspirin to help quell it. I told him I didn't think it was a good idea to stop but he insisted and offered to get us some coffee from the local diner on his way back." Reid halted his soliloquy to grab the coffee cup that was the star of his story. "I took a sip and noticed that it tasted strange. There was an unusual bitter aftertaste present –"

"And I told you that all coffee has an aftertaste. You of all people should know that," Damien argued.

"Let him finish," Hotch admonished the interrupting agent.

Knowing that he was on the right track, Reid picked up where he had been rudely disrupted. "I only drank about half the cup before I couldn't take it anymore, the taste was just too strange. Since then I've been feeling incredibly drowsy and lethargic, unnaturally so. At first I thought that maybe it was due to my restless night, but I've dealt with that before without feeling this way. It wasn't until a few minutes ago that it all made sense. He drugged me."

A mixture of emotions rolled through the room at the genius's last words. Morgan looked ready to pound the other man into the ground, and JJ gasped in shock while the cooler heads, Rossi and Hotch, just narrowed their gazes on the accused agent.

A strangled chuckle emitted from the man's mouth, "That's preposterous! You're just pissed because you didn't get any sleep due to it being so dark and now you're taking it out on me."

Ried's jaw dropped at West's comment, "How-how did…wait, you knew?"

A smug smile appeared on Damien's face, "Yeah, I knew."

"And you purposefully…h-how did you-"

"JJ."

The doctor turned on a dime and looked at his fellow agent with wounded eyes. "Why did you…," he stopped and took a deep breath, "…you were talking about me?"

Guilt and shame shined in her big blue eyes, "Spence…I-I was intoxicated. It just came out. I'm so sorry."

Morgan, growling in anger, focused the conversation back on the other man. "You used that against him? I should have known a piece of shit like you couldn't be trusted."

Reid spun around and stared at his best friend disbelievingly, "You knew that she told him? Didn't you think that was something I should have been privy too?"

"Yeah Derek…why didn't you tell your best friend?" Damien taunted, loving the strife that was swallowing the room whole.

Hotch, sensing that this was getting out of control, reigned in the conversation, "Enough! That discussion will have to wait until later. Reid, why do you think that he drugged you?"

The genius tore his anguished eyes from his best friend and turned back toward his boss, "Because I saw the box peeking out of his pants a few minutes ago."

The unit chief walked over to the probationary agent and held out his hand, "Hand them over, West."

"Just because I have a box of sleeping pills doesn't mean I laced the kid's coffee with them," the man said, giving in and taking them out of his pocket. "In the end you have no proof. I brought those with me from home."

"And you just happen to be carrying them around with you during work hours? Were you planning on taking a siesta during the middle of this investigation?" Rossi quipped, taking the box from Hotch and ejecting the silver sleeve. He noted that there was only one pill pocket that had been popped open from the whole box.

"No…I just wanted to take them before heading to the hotel tonight. You know, give them some time to kick in before I went to bed," Damien defended, watching the older man inspect the pills.

"You do remember that we have a very good technical analyst too, right? If you were dumb enough to buy these with a credit card, and judging from your actions these last two weeks I would say you are, she can easily find out," Rossi said casually, raising an eyebrow in triumph.

"Besides, Agent Reid didn't drink all of his coffee. It'll be easy enough to have the remaining liquid tested for substances," Hotch cleverly added. "Or you could come clean now and we'll go easier on you."

Sufficiently backed into a corner, Damien's face crumpled in defeat. "Fine, I know when I'm fucked. I did it. I gave the brat two pills."

Reid, hearing the man's admission, clenched his fists in anger before pounding one down on the table, "Why? Why would you do that?"

"Because I needed you to get out of my way," Damien snarled, his lip curling up in fury.

"Out of your way? Why?" Reid asked, barely holding in all the emotions that were fighting to burst forth.

"So I could finally have an opportunity to show off my talents! Something that was becoming impossible with you always standing in my way and showing me up," West admitted viciously. "I figured if you were knocked out I could finally take over the geographic profile and put my skills to better use. God! You act like two harmless sleeping pills were going to kill you. What? Do you have a medication phobia that goes along with your fear of the dark? I would hate to see you in a blackout at the hospital, you'd have a total meltdown."

Mouth agape, Reid couldn't think of a response that would hide his medication fears.

"Besides can't you all admit that the only reason that the kid is even valuable to this team is because of his I.Q.? He offers nothing beneficial to this job besides his ability to solve puzzles and do math quickly. I can do both of those thing too and smoothly interact with LEOs and victims alike. I'm more of an asset than he is. Face it kid," he leered at the young man, "the only reason your still around is because of that brain."

The man's mocking hit home for the genius and without another word he pushed pass the other bodies in the room and out the door.

"You better start running West –" Morgan threatened as he took a step toward the pudgy agent.

"Morgan," Hotch said sternly.

"No Hotch, this jackass has been making Reid's life a living hell over the past week and I'm not going to stand for it anymore," the dark man argued, fists tightened in rage.

"Go check on Reid."

"But-"

"That's an order," the unit chief commanded.

Scrunching his face in annoyance, Morgan stomped out of the room brushing against West on his way out, purposely causing the other man to stumble back into the wall.

Once the muscular agent had left hearing range, Hotch turned back to West, "We discussed yesterday your conduct and the consequences you would face if you messed up again."

West's nod was almost indiscernible.

"I said that if I even thought that you were impairing another investigation that you would lose your badge. I think this situation more than qualifies you for dismissal from the FBI," Hotch stated firmly.

"What? Why? They were just sleeping pills. Nothing hard, nothing addictive, just little pills intended to give the boy some much needed sleep. I had to do it. You guys weren't noticing my talents, I had to find a way to make you see-" Damien tried to explain.

"You know what I think? I think you are getting your ambition mixed up with jealousy," Rossi said, cutting the man off.

"Jealous? You think I'm jealous of that brat?"

"You will address Dr. Reid appropriately," Hotch ordered. "He has worked hard to earn his titles and you will not belittle his good name."

"This is ridiculous. Your team is down an agent. You need someone like me to help out."

"What we need is an agent we can trust and rely on, not one that is sabotaging our cases and trying to make a name for themselves," Hotch stated, shutting the man down. "Now Agent Rossi will escort you back to the hotel so you can gather your things. Garcia, are you still there?"

"Sir?" she questioned from the speaker on the center of the table.

"Book Agent West on the next commercial flight home."

"Yes, sir. Consider it done," she said, signing off.

"When you get home I suggest you go in to the office and clean out your desk. Agent Cruz will call you and inform you of your hearing date. That is all," Hotch proclaimed before he too walked out the door in silent fury.

"Well, let's get a move on. I haven't got all day," Rossi said wryly, gesturing toward the door.

"This isn't over," the man mumbled as walked out the door, marveling at how his brilliant plan had gone awry.

* * *

"_Is because of that brain….because of that brain…"_

West's words echoed through his skull as he made a beeline for the bathroom. How had the man hit upon the very phrase that had been haunting him for the past year?

The younger man burst into the bathroom barely holding himself together. He pushed the stalls open to make sure they were empty before he collapsed in the corner beside the sink.

The weight of what just happened came crashing down onto him as he sat in that cold little space. Drugs, manipulation, spilled secrets, and feelings of worthlessness swirled around him as a cacophony of vicious emotions assaulted his mind.

His so-called genius brain didn't even know how to start coping with everything that had occurred over the past few hours. He wanted to deal with the fact that he had been drugged unwillingly but feelings of betrayal from the people he had thought were his friends trumped his medication worries.

Why were they talking about him behind his back?

How could JJ even think it was okay to tell people about his fear of the dark?

Why didn't Morgan tell him that JJ disclosed one of his most embarrassing secrets to the other agent?

Had they drifted so far apart that his feelings were no longer important to the team?

His friends' deceit seemed to cover him like a blanket, except it wasn't the warm fuzzy type that kept you cozy on a cold winter's day, rather it was the threadbare worn out scrap of cloth that was riddled with holes. He could feel their betrayal assailing every pore of his body, fighting against his spongy barrier in an attempt to infiltrate his mind.

He brought his knees up and rested his elbows on top of them. Ducking his head into his hands he could feel angst ridden sobs trying to fight their way out of his throat.

"Reid?" came a soft voice cutting through his misery.

The genius, surprised at the presence of another, quickly sniffled his nose and wiped his face with his shirt sleeve. He looked down at the fabric and noticed that there were drops of moisture soaking into material, a fact that shocked him a little bit. When had he started crying?

"Reid? Is there anything I can do for you kid?" Morgan ventured, locking the main door to the room behind him as he stepped completely inside.

Shaking himself out of the haze of turmoil that had embraced him, the profiler cleared his throat and pushed himself up off the ground. "No. No, I'll be fine. Really."

"Reid." Morgan said with a slightly admonishing voice. "Come on man, I know that's not true."

The profiler ignored his friend's comment and started to wash his hands in the sink. He turned the water up as hot as it would go and scrubbed his skin raw. In the back of his mind he knew that he was inadvertently trying to wash away the betrayal that the man in the room represented.

Morgan watched his friend clean away the dirt from the bathroom floor and then some. "Uh…I think that West finally dug a grave deep enough that even he can't climb out of it."

Reid moved on to splashing water on his face in an attempt to remove the tear trails that had made paths down his angular cheeks. "Yeah…that's good."

"I'm willing to bet that he gets kicked out of the FBI for that stunt that he just pulled," Morgan said leadingly.

The boy's big brown eyes looked at the other man via his reflection in the mirror. He allowed a hint of a smile to grace his lips before quietly saying, "We are all victims of our own hubris at times."

"Aristotle?"

"Kevin Spacey," Reid said simply.

"Huh, I didn't think you knew about any actors besides the ones in Star Trek and Dr. Who," Morgan said jokingly.

Knowing that the other agent was trying to get him to lower his guard, Reid came out and confronted him, "What are you doing here, Morgan?"

"I'm trying to be there for my clearly distraught friend," Morgan answered, taken aback.

"Well as you can see, I'm doing alright. Now let's get back out there," Reid said as he tried to walk around his brick wall of a friend.

Morgan immediately held up his hand and halted Reid's progress, "Na-uh, there is no way you are anywhere near alright. You and I both know that what just happened out there has shaken you to your core and you are not going to hide that from me."

Reid's eyes flashed in anger, "You don't know what the hell you're talking about. I'm not hiding anything. This just isn't the time or the place for me to deal with it. There is still a vindictive woman out there killing innocent girls and we need to focus on that. Not me and my personal issues."

"So you admit that it is effecting you?" Derek asked gently.

"I'll admit that there are some things that I'm going to need to think about after this case is solved," Reid said stubbornly.

"Well, you know that we're all here for you," the black man uttered, remember the last time he had said that to Reid when he had failed his gun qualification exam.

He must not have been the only one to remember those famous words because a grimace crossed Reid's face before he murmured an almost inaudible reply.

"Right…like you've been around all year."

"What was that?"

"Nothing, just forget it. We've got to get back out there."

"No, wait…I heard you. Reid, I've been here the whole time. We all have. You could have leaned on any of us whenever you needed it."

"Yeah, and I would have fallen over from lack of support," Reid retorted, elbowing the other man aside.

Morgan reached out and grabbed the bony appendage, stopping the younger profiler in his tracks. "Where is all this coming from?"

The genius's orbs were a swirling mass of pain and anger. He gritted his teeth as he looked from the muscular man's hand to his worried visage, "Let me go."

Derek tightened his grip on the younger man's arm, "No way. Not until you start talking."

"Why should I start talking now? It's not like any of you have been listening to me at all this past year, let alone been around to hear me."

It was Morgan's turn to look hurt at the harsh analysis of his friendship, "I-we haven't gone anywhere. Look, I know that I've been a bit preoccupied with Savannah lately, but I'll always have time for you."

"You haven't had time for me since you've moved out of the bullpen. None of you have. Don't you see, Morgan? You guys have all moved on and cultivated other…better…relationships and left me way I've always been…alone," Reid professed with a hitch of emotion in his voice.

The senior profiler's heart cracked into pieces upon hearing the anguish his best friend had been hiding for quite some time. He released his firm grip from the younger man's arm and asked in a tender voice, "How long have you felt this way?"

Spencer's globular orbs started welling up with saltwater, "I –"

A severe knock sounded on the door, disrupting what was sure to have been an outpouring of all the emotions that the genius had bound up deep in his soul.

"Morgan? Reid? Why is the door locked?" sounded Hotch's voice through the door.

The moment of confession, having been sufficiently disrupted, was lost and Morgan watched as his friend threw up his emotional shields for protection.

"We'll be right out Hotch," Reid called, wiping his face once again. As soon as he was satisfied that he had gained his composure he turned the lock and started in on the knob.

"Reid," Morgan said pleadingly.

The brown haired boy turned slowly to face his friend with wide worried eyes, "Yeah?"

"Promise me that this conversation isn't over."

The younger man just nodded almost imperceptibly and walked out the door.


	10. Rememberance of Things Past

**Hello Friends!**

**Yes, I am alive...I'm sorry that I left you for so long. I was so busy trying to study and pass my licensing test that I just couldn't dedicate any time to writing. But the good news...glorious news...is that I PASSED! Woohoo, career change is in full swing!**

**So I have to give a big shout out to Gothina! She really helped me with some of the stuff you are going to read at the end of this chapter! You rock girl!**

**Thanks to everyone for being patient and a big thanks for all the reviews and follows. I hope I haven't lost too many of you with my long absence but I assure you that it was necessary.**

**Please forgive any mistakes, I posted this in a rush.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Reid opened the bathroom door and walked straight into a wall of black cotton fabric. The muscular body belonging to his boss was giving off an air of seriousness. The younger agent felt the urge to circumvent his superior and avoid what was sure to be an awkward conversation. Unfortunately that option was taken away from him when the other man cleared his throat and said, "Reid, follow me."

The red-eyed genius kept his head bowed and followed behind Hotch as he was escorted to the local police chief's office. The older agent opened the door and allowed Reid to walk inside ahead of him. Spencer immediately walked over to the narrow window that was carved into the center of the wall behind the big mahogany desk. Once he got there he grabbed the plastic rod hanging in the upper right hand corner and twisted it around, opening the plastic blinds in order to allow some light to spill into the dreary room.

Behind him, Reid could hear Hotch shutting the door soundly upon his entry, ensuring their privacy. He knew that the unit chief was going to want to discuss what had just happened in the conference room but Spencer didn't feel collected enough to go into it with the other man. So, in the hopes of putting off the coming conversation, Reid shifted his posture into what was clearly a closed off stance.

Unfortunately, Aaron was not deterred by the genius's hunched shoulders and dipped head. The superior knew that this wasn't a discussion that could wait and he needed to set the situation straight with Reid before more damage could be done.

"Reid," Hotch called, hoping the doctor would turn around and face him, "I wanted to let you know that Agent West has been relieved of his duties and I've sent him back to Quantico on the next flight out. Once he gets back Cruz will be contacting him to set up his hearing date and in a matter of days he will be officially discharged from the bureau."

The doctor merely shrugged his shoulders in response and said a quiet, "Okay."

The unit chief allowed the room to descend into palpable silence as he waited for the genius to make the next move.

It seemed like they stood there for five minutes as the doctor fully digested the information. Finally, he turned around with his hands wrapped around his waist in a self-hug, "Is that all?"

The gruff man cleared his throat and steadied his gaze on the honey-brown eyes, "No. There is one more thing."

Reid visibly swallowed, thinking that his superior was about to scold him for the way he handled the situation West.

"I wanted to apologize."

Hotch watched as the boy's already large eyes grew even wider.

"Apologize? F-for what? You weren't the one who dru-, uh…messed with my coffee."

"No, I know that. What I need to apologize for is letting you down throughout this whole debacle," Hotch said straightforwardly.

Reid's brow furrowed in response, clearly trying to decipher what his superior was saying, "You were only –"

"No, don't even say it. Don't say that I was only doing my job. Because it's not my job to follow procedure without question…it's to have your back regardless of what the FBI doctrines of protocol say. Something that I clearly didn't do and look what happened."

"Hotch…you couldn't have predicted that West was going to do something so…so extreme. Even I didn't expect it, and I've been dealing with people like him my whole life," Reid argued, touched by the other man's words.

"But you shouldn't have to deal with it as an adult…besides, my solution to have you two work out your differences by working and rooming together didn't help matters."

"Yeah, it really didn't," Reid responded wryly.

"Well, I hope you can accept my apology and I want you to know that I am here for you. I'll be doing all that I can to ensure that West receives the proper consequences for his actions and that he'll never work in the FBI again," Hotch pledged.

The genius grimaced the moment the other man mentioned the fact that he would be there for Reid. The comment hit a sore spot in the younger man's mind and he immediately shoved up his walls again. He had heard those words from his supposed friends too often before. They were always a warning sign that he was about to be let down again. "You don't need to do that. I'm sure that Agent Cruz will handle everything appropriately."

Hotch furrowed his brow, "Of course I do. I let you down once. I'm not going to do it again."

Reid shrugged as his face remained expressionless at the other man's passionate vow. "It doesn't matter. Really…it doesn't. Anyways, shouldn't we get back to the others? There's still an unsub out there roaming the streets and I can assure you she isn't stopping just because of my drama."

The profiler didn't wait for a response as he pushed past the unit chief, leaving Aaron Hotchner dumbfounded in his wake.

* * *

Rossi was escorting a fuming Agent West to gate A3 after they had gone back to the hotel to collect the man's items.

"You don't need to babysit me. I can get on a plane by myself," West huffed at the gruff Italian.

"Your actions over the past couple of weeks would suggest otherwise," Rossi quipped as they approached their destination. "Anyways, I really want to make sure you get to the right place. Wouldn't want you getting lost or missing your flight out."

Damien rolled his eyes, "God! It's not like I'm going to run back to the police station and enact my revenge on the twerp."

A brown eyebrow rose in response, "So you are thinking of revenge?"

"What? No…I said I wasn't going to-"

"Ahh…but the fact that you brought it up at all means you are thinking about getting even," Rossi deduced.

"You can stop profiling me, old man. I'm not stupid."

"Again, your –"

"God, spare me," Damien said, rolling his eyes in disdain as he flopped down in a chair by the gate.

Rossi stayed in a standing front of the disgraced man, "You know what I don't get?"

"No, but I'm sure you'll tell me."

The grizzled Italian gave a half smile at the other man's attempt at being a smartass, "I just don't understand why you felt the need to mess with Agent Reid. If you are as talented as you think you are than your skills would have made themselves apparent eventually. We would have recognized you as an asset if you truly turned out to be one."

West scowled, "What I don't understand is how you are all so swayed by that kid. Sure, I get that he is a walking encyclopedia but his social skills are a zero. You really can't tell me that he is a benefit when it comes to dealing with the public or LEOs. But you guys are never going to realize that if he sticks around. You and your team go out of your way to shelter him and in the process you're masking the fact that he is a liability not an asset. I, on the other hand, am the whole package and would have been everything that he isn't for your team. We would have been unstoppable."

"See, it's your narcissistic tendencies that are clouding your judgment. Our team is everything it needs to be. We run like a well-oiled machine. _Everyone_ on it has their own strengths and weaknesses and it's our ability to count on each other that allows for no gaps in our skillset," Rossi corrected the conceited man. "And honestly, you would've never lasted the whole trial period. Your inability to work in a team atmosphere was already beginning to shine through even without taking your dislike of Reid into account."

The other man sat up straight in the chair and sputtered, "My-my inability? I worked perfectly fine with my last team! I am still good friends with all of those agents and they would attest to my teamwork skills any day!"

Rossi held up his hands, unwilling to argue his observations with the other man, "Would they? Or were they just too intimidated by you to really admit how they felt?"

West could feel his temper snap at the man's last question. He stood up and squared his shoulders, ready to tell the smug agent what he really thought. His finger was just raising up to point at the man's face when a chipper voice pierced the air, "Now boarding group A."

"Looks like it's time for you to go," Rossi commented, his eyes perceptively boring into the Damien's.

West's eyes flashed as he realized that Rossi had shut down the conversation. He reached down and grabbed his bag before turning around to stalk off toward the gate.

"Oh and West," Rossi called, "if I were you, I'd start looking in the classifieds for a new career."

Not deigning to answer, Damien continued on his way toward the boarding zone. He never once looked back but he could feel David's eyes on him throughout his whole journey. Once he was safely ensconced in his coach passenger seat he pulled out his phone and dialed an old familiar number, "Hey Baker. You are never going to believe what happened."

* * *

After the awkward apology the team reorganized and focused solely on the case at hand. They struggled with finding any viable leads and a break in the case didn't come until a young man came into the station and claimed to have some pertinent information.

Apparently the youth had been working for quite some time at a local restaurant as a cook. He enlightened the team to the fact that lately he had been getting a weird vibe off of one of the waitresses. She seemed to be completely infatuated with him and she had been popping up at the places he frequented after work. The kid described how he had begun to feel uncomfortable whenever she was around him and that she was getting territorial of him around his fellow coworkers. It took her asking him an invasive question at work earlier that day for him to finally make the connection.

As it turned out, each of the victims had been someone that he had interacted with over the past few weeks. One of the girls was his local barista that he flirted with whenever he purchased coffee. The other turned out to be someone that he had danced with one night at the club, and another happened to be a shopping assistant he used when buying clothes.

Using the information the young man provided and tapping into Garica's computer skills allowed the team to easily apprehend the young woman and bring her in for questioning. Once they got her back to the station the team sent Morgan and JJ in to put the heat on the girl. In the end she gave a full confession, admitting to killing off what she called the competition. It turned out that she had become so enraptured with the cook that she had convinced herself that he was interested in her. Her infatuation had taken such a hold on her that she was soon following the man around wherever he went. When she saw him interacting with other women she became so incensed that she felt the need to do away with them.

The team left not too long after the confession, feeling a sense of satisfaction at the outcome but unhappy that a woman's irrational obsession led to the senseless deaths of so many innocents.

* * *

The flight home was pretty glum as each profiler became lost in their own thoughts due to finally having the time to reflect on the former probationary agent's actions.

Reid isolated himself in the back of the plane, making sure to face away from the others to avoid their stares. The genius was confused and needed time to consider the implications of what had occurred. He desperately wanted to believe Hotch and Morgan when they said that they were there for him, but their actions over the past few years stated otherwise. On top of that, he was still having a hard time wrapping his brain around the fact that again he had been drugged against his will.

Luckily, the team left him alone throughout the whole flight. Perhaps they each realized his need for self-reflection or maybe they had come to a group consensus that he needed some time to himself. Either way, he was thankful that no one had come over and tried to force him to talk. He just wasn't ready for another emotional confrontation, especially in front of everyone.

Once the plane landed he waited for everyone to disembark before he got out of his seat. He slowly gathered his items and trudged down the stairs into the night cool night air. Ahead of him he could see the team making their way to their respective cars, determined to get home before their significant others went to bed. The only person that seemed to even realize that he wasn't among them was Rossi, who was turned toward the jet, watching the genius's sluggish moves.

By the time Reid had made it over to the parking lot everyone besides Rossi had already left. "I guess you drew the short straw," Reid observed as he approached the Italian.

Rossi smiled, knowing the young man had figured out the plan, "Actually, I volunteered to drive you home."

"What? Were you guys text messaging the whole flight home to figure out who would take care of me?" Reid huffed.

"You know it," Rossi confirmed as he opened the door of his Jaguar, ushering Reid in.

"Thanks," the doctor said as the door closed. He watched as Rossi walked around the vehicle and got into the driver's seat. "But you guys don't have to worry about me. I'll be perfectly fine after a good night's sleep."

"Yeah yeah…because sleeping is going to help you get over another agent drugging your coffee. Oh, and that's on top of the fact that you feel like the team has abandoned you," the older man chided, pressing the gas pedal down to the floor.

Reid's mouth dropped open as he turned to face Rossi, "Morgan told you guys?"

Rossi nodded silently as he focused driving the car twenty miles over the speed limit down the road.

"I-I…I didn't mean…he took that the wrong way," the genius said, groping for words that would help him bury this problem down beneath the ground.

"Sure he did," was all Rossi said.

The younger profiler crossed his arms over his chest and flung his back into the seat behind him. He closed his eyes tightly and wished he was already at home in bed. "I-I was just upset. Agent West…he really caught me off guard and…and I didn't know what I was saying," he said, trying to do damage control.

Rossi, taking the twists and turns in the road in stride, glanced over at the young man, "You know that we are our most honest when we're upset."

Eyes still closed, Reid rubbed his face with his hands in frustration. "I didn't mean it. I'm fine."

"Right. Look Spencer, why don't you let down your walls for once and tell me how you really feel," Rossi suggested. "You trusted me with your emotions before…"

Reid, knowing exactly the moment Rossi was talking about, said through gritted teeth, "That was different."

"How?"

"It…it didn't…it wasn't something that had to do with…," he flung his hands in the air, clearly aggravated with the conversation.

"It didn't have to deal with your relationship with the team?" Rossi supplied.

Sighing in defeat, Reid cracked open his eyes and saw that they had pulled up to his apartment building, "Yeah…"

The older agent put the car into park and turned toward the man he looked at like a son, "Do you really feel like we've all deserted you?"

Knowing that Rossi wasn't going to leave without a good answer, Reid felt his emotional wall give a tiny bit, "Will you come inside? There's something I want you to see."

Startled at the suggestion, Dave's eyebrows rose up high, "Sure thing, kiddo."

* * *

The room was dimly lit due to a small lamp that was on a timer by Reid's couch. The green hue of the walls did not help the view as they seemed to absorb more light than they reflected. Overall the apartment was neat and tidy with everything in its place. Rossi, having never visited the genius's abode before was not surprised that it smelled of yellowed book pages and ink.

"Have a seat," Reid said listlessly, gesturing to the couch.

The grizzled profiler was pleasantly surprised at the soft texture of the worn leather couch and sat back to relax as best he could.

Spencer watched as Dave made himself comfortable before turning to go into the kitchen, "Want any coffee?"

"No thanks. I can't drink any if I want to get a little bit of sleep before work tomorrow morning."

Reid smiled slightly to himself at the comment, knowing that sleep was going to be a fickle mistress for him tonight.

Rossi sat in the humble living room observing his surroundings as the genius busied himself in the kitchen. The veteran profiler didn't want to rush the kid into showing him whatever it was he had alluded to because he knew that Reid would get to it in his own time.

After his gaze flitted around from object to object it finally settled on a worn out box that was nestled in the center of the coffee table. The lid of the old box was askew revealing a jumble of items that had no business being in the same container together.

Intrigued, Rossi leaned forward to get a better look at the objects. In the back of his mind a little warning bell was going off telling him not to invade Reid's privacy any more than he already had, but he couldn't resist a better look. So, he reached out his hand and pushed the lid off onto the table fully exposing the contents.

The first thing that caught his eye was a wooden puzzle that he recognized from a flight home a few years back. The profiler reached out and grabbed the star formation, turning it over in his hands. His mind instantly flashed back to the story that Emily had told and how Reid foiled it by putting the shooting star back together in a matter of seconds. Dave couldn't help but allow a chuckle to escape his lips at the look on Prentiss's face when he set it down completed in front of her.

"You found the box, I see," Reid observed from the doorway to his kitchen, clutching a steaming mug of coffee in his hands.

For the first time ever, Reid watched as Rossi's face went red in embarrassment at being caught snooping.

"Uh…I…I saw this poking out and couldn't help but remember when Emily told that story on the plane," he explained, hoping to skirt the issue of his prying.

"Yeah…that's why she gave it to me. She wanted me to have something to remember her by….uh…you know, before she left for London," Reid explained.

Rossi looked back down at the box, "What else is in there?"

Instead of answering the genius decided to sit down next to the man, pulling the box over toward their end of the table. He reached inside and pulled out a notebook, "This is one of my mom's old notebooks that she filled up with different musings and song lyrics. She had a tons of these but I kept this one because she let me jot down some ideas in it with her when she was feeling well."

He set it off to the side and reached back inside to grab a book called "The Ugly Little Boy." Rossi noted that the author was Isaac Asimov and didn't need one of Reid's lengthy explanations to guess who it used to belong to.

The genius was tracing the title of the book with his lithe fingers when he suddenly decided to share it's significance with his friend, "You know that my dad left in a hurry. Well, he took most of his stuff but left almost all of his books behind. I didn't do anything with them for a long time but eventually I was strong enough to throw them out. Only…when I came across this one…I just couldn't get rid of it. It felt sort of fitting, you know?"

"Actually, I've never heard of this particular story," Rossi said.

Reid gave the man a watery smile, "Well, I'll give you the short version. It's about an ugly little boy whose mother tries to give him the best childhood possible. She goes through many trials but never leaves her son's side."

"Fitting…" was all Rossi could say in response.

Spencer sat the book down and went back for the next object.

"Reid, you don't have to show me everything. I think I'm beginning to understand what this box means to you."

"It's alright. I knew what I was doing when I invited you up here to see it," Reid said shyly.

"Well, I'm honored that you chose to share it with me," Rossi said with more compassion in his voice than Reid had ever heard the man use before.

All he could do was nod his head in response as he pulled out a punched train ticket with a note affixed on it with a paperclip. "This…this was Elle's. It's her train ticket to Dallas. She…um…she was held hostage by Ted Bryar. She gave it to me because I helped save her. The uh…the note says 'Thank you."

Rossi listened silently as Reid went on to show him a finished crossword puzzle book that had completion times written next to each puzzle. It was the one that the genius and Blake would use as practice in their down time at work.

Then there was a ticket to a Redskins game that caused Reid to go a little bit red in the face. It wasn't until Rossi heard him say that JJ was the one that accompanied to the game that the blush made sense.

The older man wasn't surprised to see the bundle of handwritten letters with a small velvet ribbon wrapped around them come out of the box. He already knew that they were the ones that Maeve had written. Reid just looked up at Rossi as he held them in his hands, "You already know what these are."

Dave's gnarled hand reached out and gripped the boy's left one. He squeezed it gently and gave a sad smile, "I'm sure she kept all yours too."

Spencer coughed and twisted his mouth around, trying to hold in a sob. The boy's brown eyes were blinking fast in efforts to dispel the tears that had grown in their corners. "Yeah…"

Clearing his throat once again, Reid moved on with his big reveal. The next thing he showed Rossi was the collection of figurines that Garcia had perched on his hospital tray to greet him when he woke up from surgery. "I don't think she knew how much I appreciated her gesture."

"I'm sure she did, Reid. She's insightful like that."

Another letter was then pulled from the never-ending depths of the cardboard box. A pit grew in Rossi's stomach as he deduced who had written it. "That's Gideon's final letter to you. Isn't it?"

"Uh…yeah…I-I was so angry at him for leaving it…but I-I just couldn't bring myself to throw it away. I mean…I know that I have it memorized but…it didn't seem right to toss it into the trash. Even after the way he…uh…he left me, I just couldn't let go of it," the youth said, his voice breaking throughout the explanation.

"I understand…sometimes we keep things to help us remember. Even if the things they drudge up are painful memories," Rossi said, thinking about the onesie that he and his wife had bought for their son that never made it home from the hospital. He still kept it in his nightstand drawer and pulled it out every once in a while to postulate about who his son might have grown up to be.

"There are only two more left," Reid said, breaking Rossi out of his depressing musings.

"Two?"

"Yeah…um this is from when I finally passed my gun qualifications test back in 2005. Hotch was an integral part of my training and he coached me every day after work. After the…the Philip Dowd case in Illinois I took the test again with Hotch there to support me. I passed and he made sure that the proctor gave me the casing from my final shot as a victory trophy. I…it uh…it was the first time that I felt like I made someone proud…you know, other than my mom and Gideon."

"And the whistle?"

A humorous smile overtook Reid's face for the first time since they started delving into his box, "Morgan gave me this after I failed my test the first time. He told me that if I ever needed any help to just blow the whistle. I don't think he realized how much that comment motivated me to get better. We-we weren't as good of friends at that time as we…uh…," the genius was going to say 'as good as we are now' but he wasn't sure if there was any truth behind the statement.

Seeing the genius struggling with this final piece of memorabilia, Dave decided to ask him what had been on his mind since they began this journey, "All of these things…they help you remember the people whom you feel have come and gone from your life?"

Reid wiped his eyes as he nodded in affirmation.

"So where's mine? Where's the one that represents me?"

A serious silence descended upon the two profilers. It seemed to Rossi like it was going to go on forever but then Reid spoke in a small voice, "You're the only one that hasn't left yet."

* * *

**So sorry if the case part of the story felt incomplete but that particular case was never meant to be a main focus of my story...no later on...you'll see.**

**I hope you enjoyed it, and I promise to never be away for three weeks again!**


	11. Always Trust Your Instincts

**Hi Friends!**

**Good news! I passed my second test! Woohoo! It only took two tries but I did it!**

**Thanks for all the follows, adds, and reviews! You guys really pump me up and motivate me to write.**

**Please forgive any mistakes! I'm human and I suck at grammar...oh and sometimes my fingers go faster than my brain and weird things end up on the page.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Rossi couldn't help but feel his jaw drop at Reid's last words. Yet? So the kid was anticipating that even Rossi would leave him behind in the dust one day?

"What do you mean 'yet,' Reid?"

The boy bowed his head and looked down at his hands which were clasped between his knees, "I…I just…I guess…it's just a matter of time before…"

"Before what?" Rossi asked, although he had already anticipated what the young man was going to say.

"Before you…uh…before you leave," he said quietly, refusing to look up as the words poured out.

"What makes you think I'll leave?"

Reid cleared his throat and turned his head slightly, looking through the curls that had fallen in his eyes, "Everyone leaves me eventually."

Having enough of the poor boy's sorrow, Dave scooted himself over on the couch and wrapped his arm around the kid's bony shoulders. He could feel Spencer tense at the sudden contact but then the kid's body quickly relaxed as he registered Rossi's friendly touch. The older man squeezed Reid tightly as he said, "I'm not going anywhere, kiddo."

That same watery smile from before appeared on Reid's lips, "Right."

"What? You don't believe me?"

"I…I just don't want to get my hopes up."

"Reid…Spencer…I swear to you right now that I'm never going to –"

"Don't," the genius interrupted before the other man could finish his sentence. "Don't say that you're never going to leave. You can't promise that. You can't promise something that you have no control over. And…and there a lot of things that could make you leave…someone new enters your life, retirement, an…an unsub's bullet…So please…don't make a promise that you can't keep."

"Reid, just because something in my life changes doesn't mean you'll be pushed out," Rossi explained. "Look, I know for a fact the others feel the same. Just talk to them. Give them a chance to prove to you that they shouldn't be in that box of yours. Don't give up on them yet."

"I gave up on them a while ago…at least…gave up in the sense that they would turn out to be different than everyone else. Look, I know that they care about me to a point…but I've always known that I would be pushed to the backburner if something better came along. That's my life…it's inevitable…I accepted that a long time ago," the doctor admitted glumly, dipping his head down so that the shadows covered his face.

"See this is what I'm talking about. Spencer, you are automatically assuming that we are going to abandon you like the people in your past. You can't do that…you need to realize that we're different and that no one wants to hurt you. Like I said, just talk to everybody and tell them what you're feeling. Help them to understand where you're coming from before you withdrawal from their lives…before you permanently put them in that little box and write them off completely," Rossi pleaded again on the team's behalf.

"We'll see," was all Spencer said, knowing fully well that he would never just bring this up with any of his teammates. For he was fighting a war inside himself where one part of his brain told him to go ahead and trust what the older profiler said and the other side told him not to be a fool. As always he was leaning towards the cautious side due to having been burned so many times before by people he thought he could trust.

Dave sighed at the boy's noncommittal response. The remaining team members, himself included, were going to be traveling a long rough road to prove to the junior teammate that he wasn't being left behind.

* * *

The next morning found Reid at his desk diligently working on the previous case's file. He had arrived earlier than usual due to the restless night he endured. He sensed the others coming in one at a time but he didn't acknowledge any of them. He just wasn't ready for another deep conversation about his feelings.

He was able to get through the whole morning without a single conversation but his self-inflicted solitude was permeated just after noon.

The genius had been keeping his head down as he listened to his some of his co-workers discuss where they should go for lunch. He didn't bother acknowledging their conversation and hoped that they wouldn't ask him to join them. Luck seemed to be on his side, for moments later he could hear their heels clacking against the tile floor of the hallway as they made their way to the elevator. Spencer let out a sigh of relief, happy that he had dodged what might have been a painfully awkward lunch when he felt a presence behind him.

He didn't need to look to know that Morgan was hovering around somewhere off to his right, probably on the stairs leading up to the office suites. In an effort to deter his friend Reid started to busy himself by rifling through the files. Unfortunately a few moments later the heavy thuds of Morgan's footsteps emanated from behind him as he felt the man's stare bore right through his back.

"Hey Reid, you got any lunch plans?" Morgan asked in a booming voice.

Reid cringed and tried to rack his brain for an appropriate response. "I…uh…y-"

"Morgan, a word please."

Reid's observant ears heard a huff of breathe escape Derek's mouth as his shoes scuffed on the carpet, turning his hulking body around to face the older agent. A thankful smile came to Spencer's face before he realized that Dave was probably calling Morgan into his office to discuss what Reid had told him last night.

Spencer squeezed his eyes shut and cursed his own stupidity at sharing something so intimate with Rossi. It was a stupid moment of weakness that caused him to let his guard down last night and now he was going to have to deal with the consequences. Namely a confused and overly concerned Morgan.

Reid swiveled his chair toward the balcony and watched as Morgan met Rossi at the elder's office door. Wordlessly the black man was ushered into the room as the door was shut tightly behind him.

From his view down in the bullpen Reid was able to watch through the open blinds as Morgan refused to sit down and positioned himself by the window. The genius could tell that Derek was upset at Rossi's intervention by the body language the darker man was projecting.

Strangely, the profiler found himself mesmerized with watching his two teammates as they carried on their heated conversation. Reid kept a keen eye on Morgan's features as the other man gazed out the paned glass at him. He observed multiple emotions flit across Derek's face; confusion, hurt, and anger.

At one point the discussion must have taken a serious turn as his best friend's face was painted in anguish. It was at that moment that the muscular profiler whipped his head around and turned to face Rossi, throwing his hands up in the air as if he asked a question. Reid noticed how the other man's arms slowly lowered before he twisted back toward the window.

A sharp intake of breath could be heard as the two men locked gazes again, only this time Morgan's eyes shined with an anguished understanding. The doctor watched as his friend mouthed "Why didn't you tell me?" from his perch above him.

Reid broke eye contact and hung his head in shame. He knew that Derek wouldn't understand why he never said anything. How could he? There was no way that he could have gone to the other man and said, "Uh…excuse me Derek, but I really feel like you're forgetting about me in favor of Savannah." It would have been selfish and inappropriate.

The genius was just gaining the courage to look back up at his friend when a loud thump emanated from behind him. As fast as lighting he swiveled his chair around to find out what had caused the ruckus, freezing solid at the sight of his former teammate.

West stood on the other side of the desk divider with his beady eyes boring into Spencer's face with a vehemence the doctor had rarely seen.

"Bet you didn't think you'd be seeing me so soon…huh?" West asked caustically, bending over to open a drawer.

Reid remained silent as he watched the other man start throwing objects into the box that was situated in the center of the other man's desk.

Upon hearing no response, Damien stood up straight and continued his taunting line of questioning. "Did you miss me?"

Finally finding his voice, Spencer answered cautiously, "Not particularly."

"Aw, that hurts. It's okay though…I sure as hell didn't miss you," he said with emphasis on 'hell.'

Clearing his suddenly clogged up throat, Reid forced out, "What are you doing here? I thought Hotch relieved you of your duties."

"Well that didn't take you long at all…can't wait to get rid of me huh? Excited to have all the spotlight shining on you again, I see," West countered, avoiding the question.

"That's not…I never wanted…look, you did this to yourself," Reid stated in an effort not to fall for the man's goading.

"I did…did I? Look kid, all I wanted to do was utilize my skill set to the best of my ability. You, on the other hand, couldn't handle the competition and needed to be put in your place."

"My place?" Reid sputtered furiously. "Competition? You are two types of delusional if you think that I ever, one, thought of you as competition. And two, thought that you could do the job better than me. Now, I've heard enough of your foolishness for a lifetime, so why don't you –"

"Is there a problem here?" ask a tall unfamiliar agent that had just walked up behind West.

"Yeah Baker…the kid here was just telling me about how much better he is at profiling than I am," West said to the other man.

"Well, honestly that's not a surprise. You had just started the job. No one expected you to be a pro right out of the gates. Really now kid, were you an expert your first day on the job? Not likely…So really, bragging about how you're more advanced than West is pretty childish…don't ya think?" Agent Baker said condescendingly.

"I…I was only responding to his st-state-," Reid stammered before he was again cut off.

"Sure…whatever you say, kid," Baker said, waving his hand dismissively.

His emotions on a rollercoaster ride, Reid suddenly felt seething anger at the superciliousness oozing off of the other two men. He stood up, taking away their ability to look down on him, and raised his voice, "For once and all, it's Doctor Reid and I am not a child. Now why don't you both finish cleaning out Mr. West's desk before I have to call security to come and escort you off the floor."

The clear insult at leaving off Damien's title of "Agent" did not go unnoticed by the other man. The man's face flushed red as his temper took over. He slammed down the paperweight he had been packing and stepped around the divider between the two desks. He could feel Baker's hand on his shoulder trying to hold him back but it didn't stop him from getting up into the younger man's face.

He had just taken a large breath of air to bolster his anger when Hotchner's voice rang out through the bullpen, "What is going on here?"

West immediately took a step back and turned toward the stern man with his arms crossed. His arrogant façade faltered a bit though when he noticed that it wasn't just the unit chief coming down the stairs but the other two alpha males of the team too.

"West, what are you doing in the office today? I was told your hearing was scheduled for tomorrow."

"Cruz told me to come in and clean out my desk. So here I am."

"Yeah, well why don't you hurry it up and get out of here," Morgan growled, clearly pissed that West was allowed on the floor at all.

"And you are?" Rossi quipped, eyeing the other agent.

"I'm Agent Baker, Internal Affairs," he supplied, neglecting to hold out his hand in greeting. "I'm under orders to escort Agent West around the building to make sure he doesn't run into any trouble."

"Well you're not doing a very good job," came Morgan's grumble.

Baker cocked his head to the side at the dark agent's words, "On the contrary, Agent West was doing as he was told when your fellow agent here decided to confront him."

"What? No I didn't," Reid cried, outraged at the accusation.

Hotch held up his hand at the younger agent and said to the two men, "We are not arguing this right now. West, finish cleaning out your items. Reid, take a lunch and be back in an hour."

"Nah, that's alright Agent Hotchner. I'm all done here. No need to send the boy away. Wouldn't want him to accidently get into some trouble when he's out from your watch," Damien said mockingly, handing Baker his box to carry.

"West," Hotch said warningly.

"Aright, alright…I'm out. Come on Baker, I'm kinda hungry."

"Right behind you," the man said, falling in line next to the exiting agent.

The four men stood in perfect silence until the doors to the elevator swished shut, carrying away the man intent on becoming the BAUs archenemy.

"Reid, are you alright?" Hotch asked once he was sure the two were gone.

Spencer gulped down a breath of air as his mind tried to catch up with what had just happened, "Uh…yah…I'm fine."

Morgan snorted, clearly not buying his friend's answer, "You wanna try that one again, Reid."

The genius blinked rapidly as he turned toward the black man, "I really am fine. He just touched a nerve. I-I really didn't think I'd be seeing him again."

"Well unfortunately that's not the last time you're going to have to see him. His hearing is scheduled for nine in the morning and you're on the list to give a deposition around eleven. Do you think you can handle it?" Hotch asked, concern evident in his voice.

"Uh-yeah…I'll be fine. I mean…you'll be there won't you?" Reid asked, hoping for a little moral support during the interview tomorrow.

"I'll be there and so will Cruz, along with a few other of the higher-ups. Of course West will be there along with whomever he chose to represent him," Hotch explained.

"Okay, good. Yah…no…I'll be alright. Just gotta get it over with, right?"

"Yeah kiddo. It's just a formality," Rossi said as he patted Reid on the back.

Reid soon felt embarrassment set in as a silence descended upon the group, "I-I…um…should get back to work. These files aren't going to write themselves."

The two older agents mumbled their agreement and left the boy standing there awkwardly with Morgan.

"Hey, so it is lunch time. Do you want to cut out of here and get a bite to eat? Maybe finish our conversation from yesterday?" Morgan asked, cutting to the chase.

Feeling back into a corner and not yet ready to relieve last night's emotions Reid quickly shut the other man down, "No…I'm not feeling that hungry right now. Besides, I wasn't kidding when I said I had to get back to work…my inbox is stacked ten high."

"Are you sure? We don't have to talk about yesterday if you don't want to. We could just get out of here for a bit and forget about all this drama," Morgan offered, not wanting to let his friend off the hook, especially now that Rossi had told him about the whistle.

"Look Morgan, I know what you're trying to do and…and I appreciate it. But after last night I'm just not up for another round of…I'm just not ready to go through it all again," Reid said earnestly, hoping his friend would understand.

Derek reached out his hand and placed it on Reid's willowy shoulder, "I get it kid…I do. But listen to me."

Reid looked up into Morgan's eyes upon feeling a tight squeeze.

"Regardless of what you think may be happening between me and you, I promise you that I haven't gone anywhere. I am here for you. I've always been here for you. Nothing, and I mean nothing, will ever change that…not a freak storm of nature, not an unsub, not…not even a girlfriend. Do you get me?" Morgan asked with sincerity ringing in his voice.

He did get it. He could feel the strength of Morgan's words as they left the man's lips. For once his brain wasn't spouting out words of warning, instead it was wonderfully silent and accepting. The genius allowed a small timid smile develop on his face, "I get you. And…and I promise that we will finish our conversation. Perhaps tomorrow after I give my statement."

"That sounds like a plan. We'll get dinner or something. Or better yet, I'll pick something up and we can hang at your place," Morgan proposed, giving his friend one last squeeze of support before he withdrew his touch.

"Aright…uh…we should probably get back to work now," he said sheepishly, gesturing at his desk.

"Yeah, I need to finish up all those file that I didn't get a chance to slip into your box this morning," Derek said with a chuckle as he sauntered off to attend his own inbox.

Reid sat back down at his desk and sighed with a smile. The two men may not have fully repaired their waning friendship but at least they were able to put a Band-Aid on it for now.

* * *

The following morning Reid found himself back at his desk chugging away at the paperwork. He worked hard to keep his face impassive, trying in vain to hide the anxiety he was feeling due to the upcoming deposition. To the other agents throughout the office it looked like business as normal but the genius's fellow profilers could tell different.

All morning the young man was fielding random inquiries from Rossi, Morgan, and JJ. Each one going out of their way to interact with him.

What surprised him the most was when Garcia ventured out of her cave to check up on him. He had been diligently writing notes on a consult when a cookie tin plopped down on his desk right in front of him.

He was so startled that he ended up pushing his chair back and rolling over her pink pointed shoes.

"Ouch!" she cried, bending down to massage her foot.

"Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry, Garcia. I-I didn't mean to," he gushed.

"I-it's okay…I'll be fine," she moaned, standing up to face him.

"I-I'm so-sorry…you just scared me," he apologized again.

"I know…I just…I couldn't let you go into that meeting today without you knowing that you have my support. I-I'm so sorry I've been distant lately, boy genius. I've been working through my own demons, having nightmares and stuff…and I-I just…I wasn't blaming you but…but…," she babbled, obviously unsure of how to explain her feelings.

"Stop…you don't have to explain. I understand how…hard it is to deal with something so…traumatic," he empathized.

"Thanks," she said in relief. "Uh…well anyways, like I was saying. I was up late last night thinking…and then I remember that you had to speak about that nasty West today...so I decided to make you some homemade chocolate chip cookies!"

The bubbly woman reached out and grabbed the tin. She pulled off the top and held it out to the skinny boy. "Try one! They're delicious."

Happy to oblige, Reid grabbed one and started munching on it. "They are delectable," he said around a mouthful of cookie.

"I'm glad you like them," she said, helping herself to one of the treats.

The two stood there for a few minutes comfortably munching away. Reid was the first to finish his cookie and immediately said, "Thank you."

Realizing that he was thanking her for more than the gift she blushed and said, "You're welcome my sweet. And I'm sorry it took me so long to come around. You know that you light up my life and I will do anything to continue to see you beam."

The phone on Reid's desk rang before he could tell her that he missed her too. "Uh-hold on a second."

"Sure thing sweetness," she said with a 50 watt smile.

"Reid."

Garcia watched as a hint of confusion overcame his countenance.

"Okay, thanks. I'll be right down."

She watched him hang up the receiver and stare at it for a few seconds.

"Who was that?"

"Oh, it was Agent Bellancia down in archives. She said she pulled the files I asked for and set them out in one of the vaults."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"Yeah…it's just that I don't remember asking for her to gather any for me," he admitted, searching his mind for the missing memory.

"Huh? Well maybe you've been so caught up with all this West drama that you forgot…hmm…you're right. It is strange."

"I think I'll just go down there to see what she found…perhaps someone else requested it and she thought it was for me," he suggested.

"That sounds like a possibility. Well, toodles! Oh and don't worry too much about your meeting later. You'll do fine!" she chirped before kissing her fingers and planting them in the center of his forehead.

"Thanks. I'll see you later," Reid said, feeling a bit more positive knowing that Garcia was back in his life.

* * *

The journey down to archives didn't take long; it was just a quick trip down the elevator to the second basement floor. The FBI had long ago banished the dusty books and files down into the bowels of the building figuring that not too many agents would be interested in hard copies anymore. Agent Bellancia, a woman well overdue to retire, was in charge of the ancient texts and ran the department like a drill sergeant.

The metal door whisked open in front of Reid to reveal the cinderblock wall of the secondary basement. The hallway leading to archives was dark and dingy, reminiscent of any good horror movie. Half burnt out florescent bulbs shined through opaque lights in the ceiling, dearly in need of replacement. Lining the walls were various doors leading to storage rooms filled with any number of mystery items.

When Reid finally reached the glass door with Agent Bellancia's name etched in the glass he couldn't help but feel some relief. The actual department itself was always well lit and comforting.

He pushed in the doors and felt his face fall at the sight that greeted him.

"Agent Baker? What are you doing down here?"

The other man looked up at the sound of Spencer's voice and frowned, "I work down here, Doctor Reid."

"No you don't. I'm down here all the time and Agent Bellancia is always the only one here."

"Well sorry to burst your bubble but I'm the lucky one that gets to relieve her for her lunch break," Baker explained snidely.

"Oh," was all Reid could say in reply.

"So, what can I do for you, Doctor Reid?"

"Uh…Agent Bellancia called and said she laid out some files for me in one of the vaults," Reid said. "You know what…I think I'll just come back later and talk to her about it."

"Actually you won't…she needs you to go over them now because those rooms are reserved later for some cadets coming from the academy to do some research. She needs to clean up your mess before they get here," Baker said, standing up with a key in his hand. "Come on. She has you set up over in number five."

Reluctantly Reid followed the other man down the hall, a twinge of worry tingling through his spine.

The two stopped in front of a thick metal door, used especially to seal off the rooms to keep the basement moisture at bay. Baker flicked the light switch on the outside wall before he made quick work of unlocking the door and pulling it open. A rush of air whooshed out from the doorway bringing with it the scent of old texts and stale air. Around the perimeter of the room were overflowing bookcases, bursting at the seams with documents. In the center there was a large wooden table covered in materials that Reid had supposedly requested. The room was lit by a singular light that was flickering at a high speed hanging above the table.

"Here you are," Baker said unceremoniously.

Spencer licked his lips and swallowed, "Uh-thanks."

"No problem," the other man uttered, moving to shut the door behind the doctor.

"Wait! I'm not going to be in here that long. Just leave it open."

"No can do. We've got to keep these doors closed. We can't let the moist air get in and ruin the documents. I'm sure you understand," he smirked, closing the door with a thud.

Of course Reid knew what the man said was true, he had been down here on multiple occasions for research. Except, it had always been Agent Bellancia working with him before and Baker was giving off nothing but negative vibes since he walked in the door.

Reid's misgivings were all confirmed when he heard a click radiate through the room. He rushed to the door and turned the knob in vain, already anticipating what he would find.

The door was locked.

He started pounding on the metal while shouting, "What are you doing? Let me out!"

"Agent Baker!"

"Agent Baker?"

Reid allowed his head to thump against the door in defeat. How could he have been so foolish? He should have trusted his instinct. He balled up his hand and pounded his fist against the door in anger.

Deciding to try calling out once more he shouted the only thing that came to mind, "You're not going to get away with this! You know there are cameras down here."

Reid stopped, listening carefully for any sound on the other side of the door. He held his breath when he thought he heard the pad of footsteps on the other side.

He stepped back, hoping that the other man had realized his folly and was going to open the door.

He should have known he wouldn't have been that lucky.

The next thing he knew the single light in the room went out, plunging the nyctophobic into endless darkness.


	12. Dark Memories

**Hi Friends!**

**Thanks for the reviews, follows, and favs. You guys are the best!**

**Warning: Some swearing and I do allude to some child abuse...that bastard William Reid.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

The darkness wrapped its all-encompassing tendrils around his body. He blinked his eyes several times in a panicked effort to dispel the relentless black. Reid could literally hear the blood rushing through his body at a faster rate as his heart picked up its beats per minute.

He reached his hands out in front of him, desperate for contact with something solid to help assure him that he hadn't fallen into some sort of abyss. His fingertips quickly found the cool metal of the vault door. They brushed along the textured surface until they located the handle. His hands gripped the metal tightly before turning it vigorously, in hopes that the extra strength would force the knob to turn.

He had no such luck.

A small sob escaped his lips as he placed his forehead on the door once again while simultaneously banging his fist against the metal.

"Baker! Baker, let me out!"

The only response that permeated through the thick barrier was the faint sound of spiteful laughter.

Upon hearing the man's mocking chortles the genius had to restrain his urge to keep shouting out anymore comments. He knew from past experience that they weren't going to help anymore. For every single time a bully had stuffed him in a locker, shut him in a trash dumpster, or locked him in a janitor's closet his meager threats had never made a difference. In fact, they only served to amuse his tormentors even more which would then motivate them to mockingly bang on his various prisons in order to increase his distress.

Dropping his arm down to his side, he swallowed a few deep gulps of air and tried to stop renegade thoughts from running rampant through his mind. He knew he was in for a battle though when random scenes started coming up to the surface of the deep waters that were his memory.

He couldn't do this.

There was no way he was going to be able to weather this storm.

Feelings of doubt started crushing his lungs, squeezing out the precious air supply that he had been able to suck in over the last few minutes.

Reid knew that he had to sit down but he was reluctant to leave the door for fear of getting lost in the dark void that the room had become around him.

His choice was taken away moments later when his legs gave out beneath him. The genius's knees hit the stone floor with a solid crack. He could feel his body wobble precariously before he flung his right hand out to his side to support his weight. He took a few moments to steady his breathing as he pulled air in and out of his lungs on command. Once he felt slightly steadier he began to feel along the wall looking for a corner to huddle into for protection.

After what felt like hours of inching forward into the inky black air his had landed on the spot where the walls connected. He quickly turned his back around and pushed as far into the corner as he could manage. When the genius was satisfied that nothing could sneak up on him he pulled his legs in and rested his head on his knees.

If the lights had been on he would have easily been able to see the whole room but as it was his pupils were blown wide searching for even the smallest fragment of light. A feeling of helplessness descended on the boy as he crouched in the corner. And sooner than he expected the symptoms of his nyctophobia started to set in full force as his body once again started shaking, his breathing sped up, and sweat began to issue forth from his pores.

Unable to think of anything else to do, the doctor started to talk to himself, "Nyctophobia, otherwise known as severe fear of the dark, is a natural defense mechanism that developed when our ancestors were in their hunting and gathering phase. Early humans were often hunted throughout the night by vicious predators which fostered the fear. As generations arose each was taught by its elders to fear and be cautious of things lurking in the dark. This fear impacts some humans more powerfully than others, namely children as most adults outgrow their fear over time. Due to the fact that we are no longer a race of hunters and gatherers the fear is now associated with the fantasies that an individual's brain creates pertaining to what could happen when exposed to an environment lacking light."

Reid paused and took a shuddering breath, "Of course, I know that my personal fear of the dark is not a result of what I think will happen to me but the memories it brings of what has happened to me."

After he uttered those words Spencer squeezed his eyes lids tightly shut. That simple statement had triggered the floodgates that held his memories at bay to open.

* * *

It felt like his heart was going to come up through his throat as he heard the sounds of his father's footsteps reverberating on the hardwood floor. Nine year old Spencer was squeezed into the tightest ball possible as he cowered in the corner of his bed with the covers pulled up over his head.

His dad was angry again. It didn't take much to piss William Reid off and the small child was cursing himself for being foolish enough to push his luck that night. Spencer had just gotten his hands on "The Lost World" by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. It was a book that hadn't been on his radar before due to his mother's love of 15th century literature and he was reluctant to go to sleep without finishing it.

Unfortunately, while he was secretly exploring the Amazon basin with Malone he had let out loud squeal at the sighting of the first dinosaur. The child had immediately recognized his folly and dropped the book on top of his nightstand. He shut off the flashlight that he had been using to illuminate the pages and shoved it underneath his pillow. Sadly, his efforts had been in vain as the creak of the floorboards gave way the approach of his father.

His door was flung open with all of the might of an irrationally angered adult, "Spencer! What was that noise? Don't tell me that you've been awake this whole time. I told you to go to bed after supper."

The boy felt his lip tremble as he clenched his eyes tighter. Tears had already started to gather behind his lids waiting to escape the second his honey-browns opened wide.

A strong hand grabbed his shoulder roughly through the blanket and flipped his small body onto his back.

"Well? What are you still doing up?"

"I w-w-was a-asleep…I-I s-swear," he lied, all the while knowing that his dad wasn't going to buy it.

"Then what was that noise?"

"I-I had a nigh-nightmare," he appealed, wishing he could take the words back the second they escaped his lips.

"A nightmare? What could you possibly be afraid of?"

The quivering child tried to rack his distraught brain and blurted out the first thing that came to mind, "I d-don't remember. It was just pitch black."

"Goddamnit Spencer! When are you going to grow up? I hoped and prayed for a stouthearted son and instead I got you. A fucking wimp that's afraid of the dark. You know what, I'm going to give you a reason to be afraid of the dark!" William seethed, as he unlatched his belt from around his waist.

"D-d-daddy p-p-please!" the little boy cried out as his big eyes adjusted to the darkness to see his father joining the two ends of his belt together and snapping it in the middle.

"I will make you strong if it's the last thing I do," vowed William as he raised the leather strap up in the air.

* * *

"Agent Hotcher, is your agent planning on coming today?" the director of the FBI asked with a hint of annoyance tainting his voice.

"Yes sir. I confirmed the time with him this morning," Hotch answered, not making any excuses for the genius.

"Well, where is he?"

"That would be difficult for me to know based on the fact that I've been in here with you all morning," Hotch supplied.

A growl was issued from the director's throat at the response, "Well, go find out if he plans on joining us."

Hotchner stood up from his seat and removed his cell phone. He was slightly worried about his subordinate. Reid was never one to be late, especially to something that was so important. As the senior agent made his way from the room he couldn't help but notice the shit-eating grin that was plastered on Damien's face. That alone told Aaron that he needed to up his worry straight to outright concern.

"Morgan."

"Morgan, is Reid with you?" the agent asked immediately.

"Uh, no…I'm in my office. Shouldn't he be at the deposition with you?" the other man answered in confusion.

"Yes, but he hasn't shown up yet."

"That's not like him," Derek said. Hotch could hear the creaking of the man's leather chair as Morgan vacated it. "I'll go look in the bullpen."

Hotch remained silent on the other end of the line as he waited for an update.

"Huh…"

"What is it?"

"He isn't at his desk. Maybe he's on his way to you?" Morgan suggested.

"I doubt it. He is over fifteen minutes late. I could understand him being behind by a few minutes but fifteen is excessive, especially for Reid," Hotch countered, pacing up and down the hallway in distress.

"Yeah, your right. The few times he has ever been late it's been by microseconds. Here, let me go check and see if he got caught up with someone on the team," Morgan offered, making his way towards JJ's office.

He peeked inside the door and saw the blonde at her desk. "Hey JJ. Have you seen Reid?"

"Spence? No, I haven't seen him since earlier this morning," she answered, puzzled.

"Alright, thanks," the darker man said, taking off before she could ask him a follow-up question.

Morgan was still holding the phone to his ear as he popped into Rossi's doorway, "Rossi, has Reid been in here with you today?"

"Nope. It's just been me and Ringo," Rossi responded with a gesture toward the photo on his desk.

"Thanks," he said again, leaving the other profiler with a curious look on his face. "Hotch, I'm getting a bad feeling about this."

"Go try Garcia," the superior advised over the line.

"I doubt he'll be with her. She's been kinda avoiding him lately."

"Try her anyways," he ordered without asking for more details on their strained relationship.

"I'm headed there now."

Morgan stood outside of his tech goddess's doorway and knocked twice before entering. His effervescent coworker swiveled around and beamed at his entrance.

"Hot chocolate! It's great to see you! I've been kinda cold lately."

"Easy there mamma. I'm not here for pleasure-"

"Oh the pleasure I could give you," she cut him off.

"Not now sweetness. Have…uh…have you seen Reid?"

She perked up a bit at his question, "Have I? Why yes, I was conversing with boy genius a mere forty-five minutes ago. I took him some cookies and made my peace with him. Why do you ask?"

"Are you sure it was that long ago?"

"Yeah, I remember because he was due at the deposition not long after we talked," she said as worry started coursing through her at Morgan's line of questioning.

"Well, he didn't show up to West's hearing. They're waiting on him right now."

"That's strange. He said he was going to head there right after he was done down in archives."

"Archives?" Hotch's voice sounded through the phone.

"Archives?" Morgan parroted.

"Yeah, Agent Bellancia called and said she had pulled the files he needed. Which was strange because…uh oh," she stopped midsentence.

"Uh oh? Wait, what was strange?"

"Uh…well, after he hung up with Bellancia he told me that he didn't remember putting in an order for her to pull anything. He…uh…he decided to go down and see what she retrieved. He thought maybe she mistakenly called him instead of a different agent. Reid was going to help her straighten everything out," Garica explained with growing dread.

Hotch, who had heard everything loud and clear, didn't waste a second, "Morgan get down there. Now!"

"On it," the black man said before he hung up and sprinted out of the technical analyst's office.

"Oh dear," she muttered, getting up from her chair in order to go fill in the rest of the team.

* * *

The lightning strike of pain that came from the downward swing of his father's belt sent agony sizzling through Reid's prone body. He knew it wasn't real but he couldn't keep from crying out at the remembrance of the strike. It was just another drawback to his eidetic memory.

Before his body underwent each of the fifteen hits that his father had administered that night his memory whisked him off to another unpleasant memory of the dark.

The second crack of the belt coincided with the slam of the front door behind a teenage Spencer Reid. He had just arrived home in Vegas after a six hour bus ride next to the smelliest man on the planet. The teen wished he could afford to take a plane but the price compared to ground transportation was insane.

"Mom? I'm home!" the youth called out into the darkened house.

His mother hadn't been of the right frame of mind to decorate the house for the holidays in years but usually at least one light would be on to help her navigate at night.

"Mom? Why are all the lights off?" Spencer asked the seemingly empty abode. His foot kicked over a stack of books that had been left haphazardly in a pile by the door. The boy cursed as he shuffled the novels out of his way with the tip of his toe. He had put all the lights on timers before he had left for college knowing that the dark could trigger her episodes faster than anything else. Diana's daily caregiver knew that too and she should have been on top of any burnt out bulbs or messed up devices.

"Mom?" he called out again, hesitantly this time, as he walked past the living room and into the dark hallway. The narrow passage was devoid of light due to all the bedroom doorways being closed tight, effectively blocking out any of the moonlight that might have shined in through the windows.

Spencer stopped midway down the hallway and strained his ears for any sign of life.

Nothing.

He decided that his best choice was to go check his mom's room.

Once he got to her door he nervously reached out to grasp the door handle. Spencer held his breath in anticipation, silently saying a prayer to whatever deity may exist above. 'Please let her be asleep,' he thought as he turned the door handle.

He slowly pushed open the door and whispered, "Mom?"

Diana's room was utterly dark, her blackout curtains sufficiently cutting off all light sources. He felt along the wall next to him for the light switch. At this point he didn't care if he woke his mother up, he needed to assuage the worry that was building up in the pit of his stomach. His nimble fingers found the switch and pushed it upwards.

Nothing.

His heart started racing, panicked upon realizing he couldn't banish the dark.

"M-m-mom? Where are you? I-i-it's me, Spencer," he implored to the black void that was Diana's bedroom.

The genius couldn't maintain his calm any longer as fear for his mother coursed through his veins. Had she succumbed to an episode? Was she out wandering the streets? Why hadn't her nurse noticed?

His lanky legs stumbled over themselves as he tried to back up. The next thing he knew a vase was shattering over the top of his head.

"Spy! Spy! I knew it! I knew you were coming. How dare you think you could infiltrate my house? I'll show them…your superiors are going to regret the day they decided to send you to take my secrets!" Diana shrieked in the darkness, as her fists gathered the fabric at Spencer's shoulders and tugged him backwards down the hall.

The boy was disoriented from the blow and it took him a few minutes to realize what was happening. The fog cleared from his head as his body halted on the cool linoleum tile of the kitchen floor.

The pale moonlight spilled in through the kitchen window giving Spencer a good look at his mother. He took in her disheveled appearance and knew that she was too far gone at the moment to be even remotely reach with his words. His only option at the moment was to get out of the house and wait until morning. Usually the light of day helped to scatter her illusions and bring her back to lucidity.

Spencer slowly gathered his knees underneath him and started to push his body up from the floor when his mother let out a screech of fury and pushed him with all her might. Unwittingly the boy hadn't noticed that she had dropped him right next to the open doorway leading downstairs but he quickly realized his folly as his body bounced off of each step on its way down into the basement.

He hit his head hard on the concrete and laid sprawled on his back unmoving. The teen could feel a trickle of blood travel down his forehead and before long he was trying to blink the blood out of his eye. He tried to prop himself up on his elbows but a sharp pain stopped his movement, signaling what was surly a break of his right ulna. Spencer felt tears spring to life as all the pain from his various injuries assaulted his nervous system all at once.

His mother's voice drew his attention moments later as it emanated from the top of the stairs. "You can't spill my secrets if you can never leave," she pronounced victoriously as she slammed the door shut.

Spencer laid on the ground in the pure darkness and let out a defeated sob when he heard the click of the lock followed by the sound of Diana pushing the china cabinet in front of the door, sealing him in tightly until she regained her senses.

* * *

Morgan practically jumped down the flights of stairs without his feet touching a single step. He only made contact with the landings whilst he took advantage of the railings to push off from in order to gain momentum. He was down the stairs in record time, intent on not letting anything get in the way of finding his friend.

Derek busted through the stairwell doorway and sprinted down the hallway to the glass entrance leading to the archives. An elderly agent flashed him a face full of malice at his noisy arrival. She stood up from her perch behind her desk and asked him in a peeved voice, "What is the meaning of this?"

"Dr. Reid! Where is he?" Morgan demanded walking around her desk, determined to search every vault for signs of his geeky partner.

Agent Bellancia's face softened a bit at the mention of Spencer but still held its disdain for Morgan's manners, "He isn't here. As far as I know he came down to look at his files and left. Look agent…"

"Morgan."

"Look Agent Morgan, you can't just go in there," she called out at the hulking man positioned in front of the first vault. "You need a key."

Morgan grasped the handled and tried it anyways. "What do you mean, 'As far as you know?' Weren't you down here?"

"No, I was on lunch. Mr. Baker was in charge while I was gone."

Morgan's face paled at the mention of Baker's name, "Agent Baker? From Internal Affairs?"

"Mr. Baker isn't an agent and he sure isn't in Internal Affairs. He's a temp in human resources. He covers for me every day. The bureau doesn't feel the need to utilize another agent down here for just a half hour a day so they decided to assign a civilian with the job of coming down here to watch over my precious records," she said, unable to hide the affront she felt at the agency's obvious slight for her position.

"Fuck," Morgan muttered under his breath. "What room did you have Agent Reid set up in?"

"Vault five."

"Open it. Now!" he barked as he took off down the hallway without waiting for her to follow.

He skidded to a halt in front of the daunting metal door with a five etched in the steel. He banged his hand on the door and called out, "Reid! Reid? Can you hear me?"

"Agent Morgan, I am sure he isn't in there anymore. Mr. Baker told me explicitly that the young man had been in and out pretty quickly," she admonished, incredulous with the impetuous agent.

"With all due respect ma'am, you need to stop arguing with me and open that door now," he said through gritted teeth.

She huffed in derision and stuck the key in the door. A deep click resonated through the room as Agent Bellancia turned the handle and pulled open the door.

* * *

The dark void of his childhood basement didn't hold the genius long as his brain switched the scene before him to one more recent. He was sitting in an uncomfortable chair with a soft cloth wrapped around his eyes. He could feel the barrel of the gun that the bane of his existence had rested on his shoulder as she praised his intelligence.

Somewhere in front of him he could hear quite intakes of breath as the woman he considered his girlfriend watched him get manhandled. He desperately wanted to rip the blindfold off his head. It made him feel powerless and insignificant in such a dire situation. He needed to see what was happening in order to better assess his chances of getting Maeve out of here alive. But he couldn't and it was killing him.

So instead of dwelling on what he was lacking he did his best to distract Diane. He spouted out whatever random thoughts that came to mind and tried to give her the approval she was so desperate to receive.

Diane? Why did her name have to be Diane? It was just too close to his mothers. Was it the universe's idea of a joke?

He must have said something wrong because suddenly the muzzle was shoved right into his chest. He could feel her hand shake with emotion; she wanted to believe him.

He barely registered her demand as she tore the black cloth from around his head. Shock stole through his body as he finally laid eyes on the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He had no words to describe the exquisiteness she exuded, and for him that was saying something.

And then in that darkened prison he uttered the words that broke his heart yet conveyed all the love he had for her, "I'm sorry. I don't love you."

"I understand."

His words weren't good enough for Diane though. She needed more. She needed to flaunt her victory in a way that Reid hadn't anticipated.

He knew the moment she leaned in that he was doomed. He tried to kiss her, to gather the love he felt for Maeve put it into that kiss. He tried to make it believable but he failed.

And all hell broke loose around him. The fight between him and Diane was a blur, just like the pain from her bullet.

He was sprawled on the floor when clarity started to take over. Spencer's mind seemed to recognize the direness of the moment and it finally defogged enough to allow him access to every nook and cranny of his brain.

Words.

He needed to use the one skill he had that had gotten him out of many tight situations.

"Me for her," he could hear himself offering.

"You would do that? You would kill yourself for her?" Diane cried out, unable to keep the jealously out of her voice.

"Yes!"

Alas, Maeve's declaration that Thomas Merton was the one thing Diane could never take from them pushed the unbalanced girl over the edge.

In slow motion Reid watched as the gun was raised high in the air and discharged. He could hear himself yelling something inconsequential, something that had no effect on Diane's actions. And for the rest of his life he was doom to watch over and over as the woman he loved fell lifeless to the ground next to her killer.

In the darkness of that room he cried, heedless of who was watching. The last thing he remembered of that night was kneeling in the inky pool of darkness that was surrounding his beloved. He had then gathered Maeve into his arms and clutched her tightly to his chest, rocking back and forth while keening his heartache for all to hear.

* * *

The first thing Morgan registered when the vault door was open was the fact that it was devoid of any light. The next thing he grasped was the sound of Reid's desperate cries echoing off the thick concrete walls.

"Lights! Where are the lights?" he yelled at Bellancia, unmindful of his tone.

Bellancia, hearing the sounds of sorrow stemming from the darkened room bustled over to the outer wall and flicked the switch.

Morgan hustled into the vault and looked around, desperate to find his distressed friend.

The genius wasn't near the door and he wasn't perched at the table. It dawned on the darker man that his friend would want to find the most protected spot in the room upon being lost in the dark. He turned to the corner and spotted the trapped agent huddled up in a ball sobbing his heart out at whatever images his brain had dredged up.


End file.
