"Reid. What is this?" Hotch asked, ducking out of the way as a huge fake spider was lowered next to his face.
"It's a haunted house!" Reid supplied brightly. Before he could say more, Hotch interrupted.
"No, it isn't."
"Well, no. It's not technically haunted," Reid allowed as a dead man sat up and laughed to his right. "It's meant for children. For it to actually be haunted would be quite frightening for children. But I thought, maybe, you could bring Jack here, if you don't think this will bother him too much," Reid concluded, picking up a fake severed hand and holding it aloft. Children around him screamed in terror.
They were in the car - Hotch driving and Reid in the passenger seat - when Hotch spoke quietly, almost to himself. "It was nice of you to think of Jack. I promised him a Halloween party, since I can't take him Trick-or-Treating myself this year. So, maybe that house…it's a possibility."
"Hey, Hotch? How come you were so certain about the house not actually being haunted?" Reid asked seriously.
"Because, experience has taught me differently," Hotch said softly.
"What kind of experience?" Reid pressed.
"Haley."
That single word. That name and the way Hotch said it rendered Reid completely silent. Sometimes Reid forgot it had been nearly three years since she was killed, but he always remembered the anniversary in November. Always made himself available to talk. Hotch had never taken him up on it. Had rarely even mentioned Haley's name until right now. So, Reid just waited silently, in case he wanted to say more.
"She rearranges the tea in the cabinet," he said, his tone echoing with something like reverence. "Her tea, actually. I took it when I took Jack. It was in the old house. The one where… Anyway, I've had it in my apartment, and every so often, I'll open a cupboard door for something and see that the arrangement has changed. Jack never touches it. He won't even open the cupboard, because he knows it's there."
Reid stayed silent, listening.
"Sometimes, the floor will creak in the middle of the night, on the other side of the bedroom. Or the whole place will smell like her perfume. And…sometimes…she leaves me pennies," Hotch confided.
The hair on the back of Reid's neck stood on end.
"Real haunting isn't frightening. It's comforting. It's her letting me know that she's all right," Hotch's voice sounded far off and a little sad.
"Does anyone else know about this?" Reid asked, trying to find a balance between fascination and terror and failing miserably.
"Garcia," Hotch admitted. "She doesn't actually know about the signs, but she's aware I'm open to the possibility."
Reid was silent, contemplating, until Hotch pulled up in front of his building. Then, he moved slowly, as if in a dream. Before closing the car door, Reid leaned in. "Hey Hotch?" he asked. "Thanks for telling me about this."
The End.