This story is written with intense care to stay true to the characters and to the nature of the show, so if I succeeded, the reader should not expect to find anything contrary to what we know about them. (That is, except for the bits in this story which may not be exactly as they happened in the show - that is partly a result of weakness of memory, laziness, and a degree of artistic licence.)
Also, it is my responsibility to acknowledge that every scene and dialogue piece that can be recognized are taken directly from the show, and I do not, in any way, claim ownership of those parts. No copyright infringement is intended.
Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy it.
Hotch simply could not believe how frequently Reid got himself into trouble.
Standing at the back lawn of Dr. Nichols' house, he glanced at the glass doors, watching Reid run from one corner of the room to the other, looking for anything about Dr. Nichols that could be of use. The cell phone was still in Hotch's hand, held up. Reid's voice was stuck in his brain, repeating the same sentence like a broken record.
"Hotch, I really messed up this time."
Beside him, Morgan was giving himself hell for not paying more attention to Reid. Hotch knew that this had nothing to do with Morgan; Reid should have known better than to stroll into the house of their most likely UnSub, especially considering the risk of exposure to Anthrax, of all things. Hotch sighed as he glared through Reid's direction.
You should've known better than that, Reid; you should've thought before you acted!
Shaking his head furiously, Hotch tore his eyes apart from the house and took a moment to take in the circus going on around him. An ambulance, people in protective suits, military officials saluting each other as they strolled around, protective equipment being set up – the back lawn of a beautiful old house had turned, in a matter of moments, into a critical management base. It was difficult to believe that the lethal strain of a bio-agent could any moment be released into this back garden and out into open air, onto the lawn where roses were fully blossomed and birds sang jovially. Hotch recalled his own words.
We did our homework, we're prepared for this. This is it.
This is it, he told himself one more time. He knew that he didn't have a moment to spare for worrying about Reid before joining in the chaos around him and resuming his position as the leader of his team.
His thoughts were distracted by the buzzing of the cell in his palm. He picked it up in a split second.
"Reid, what do you see in there?"
"I see cages with dead animals; I see signs of a struggle right before Dr. Nichols was murdered; equipment's missing. There's a large desk, with clutter all over the surface – but in the corner, there's a smaller desk... It's organized; functional."
"Two different workspaces?" Morgan asked.
"Two sets of handwriting," Reid supplied. "I'm looking at instructions of how to boil lab-Grade broth, sterilize lab equipment and how to transfer spores."
"Nicholes would know all that," General Whitworth mused, standing between Hotch and Morgan.
"He has a partner – maybe even a protegée – go back to the BAU; try to figure out who this partner is," Reid suggested conclusively. Hotch felt a flicker of hope, now that they had a lead.
"Hotch, why don't you go? I'll stay with Reid."
Hotch did not hesitate to shut off the phone and turn around to follow the General back to Quantico. "Huddle all the information you get to me," he told Morgan, already strolling through the SUV. He had a job to do, and all he could think about right now was solving the case.
Reid would be fine with Morgan.
~ * ~
"Sir, we got a name."
Hotch looked up sharply from his desk. Garcia's head was sticking into his office through the door.
"Who?" he questioned, pushing his chair and standing up.
"Reid and Morgan figured out that the partner must've applied to Dr. Nichols as a student, so we looked up local PhD students who fit the profile. The name is Chad Brown; JJ's pulling his file now."
"I'll get General Withworth."
Thirty seconds later, he was walking into the conferance room with the general at his heels. Garcia and JJ had the file opened on the table.
"Chad Brown applied for a civilian position at Fort Detrick four different times," Garcia supplied, looking from Hotch to General Withworht.
"His enployment application," JJ said, gesturing towards the open file. The general looked over it.
"He never passed the pshyc evals. 'Is it appropriate to sacrifice the lives of the few to save the many?'"
"He answered yes," Hotch mused, his voice tired.
"Everytime," the general confirmed. "Why he never got hired."
As Hotch listened to Garcia's findings about Brown, he felt the familiar sense of satisfaction that he got everytime they had a breakthough. There were always several stages of solving a case, and determining the UnSub's identity was usually the first one. Now they had to find him before he could do more harm. At this point, Hotch would not think of the third stage, the finding of a cure, yet. Things needed to be done one thing at a time.
"Get the address to Prentiss and Rossi," he ordered as he strolled out of the room. He had just walked into his office when Garcia once again stood at the doorframe.
"Sir, they got Reid out of Nichols's house."
Relieved, Hotch nodded.
"Thank you." H e quickly dialed Morgan's number.
"Dave and Prentiss are checking out Brown's house."
"Okay."
"Is Reid out of the house?"
"Yeah, they're hosing h im down now." Hotch could hear the muffled sound of water running, much like a shower.
"Keep me posted."
"All right."
Shutting off the phone again, Hotch sighed once again. He noticed, without any surprise, that the lid of his phone was almost unhinged. He couldn't remember the last case which had required this much cell phone traffic. There was much more communication to be made, and it wasn't even five o'clock. He only wished that they would catch Brown before it was too late... Too late to stop the next attack, or too late to find the cure for the patients at the hospital... and for Reid.
~ * ~
The next round of communication came along the federal line. JJ had poked her head into his office and told him that Dr. Kimura was on line two. Quickly, he followed her into the conferance room, where the generals and Garcia waited anxiously. Bracing himself for bad news simply out of habit, Hotch clicked the button to pick up the call.
"Dr. Kimura, this is Agent Hotcher," he announced, leaning slightly over the machine. "How's Reid?"
"Agent Hotchner, I have bad news and good news," said Dr. Kimura's nervous voice. Though he kept eyes fixed on the telephone, Hotch could almost see Garcia biting her lip.
"We're listening."
"Firstly; Dr. Reid seemed to be doing okay until we got him out of the house; but as we were hosing him down we noticed a cut at the back of his hand."
Hotch couldn't help but sigh. He rested his hands on the table and leaned on. "And?"
"Because the strain was exposed on an open cut, the anthrax affected him nearly twice as faster than any of the other patients."
Hotch could hear the hesitancy in the doctor's voice, and he could almost feel his patience wearing off.
"How is he now?" he asked, a bit too harshly than he had intended.
"Not good. Aphasia and the bleeding into the lungs set in before we even reached the hospital. He's in respiratory distress."
"Oh my God." It was JJ who had softy breathed out, and Hotch watched Garcia's eyes darting madly around the room as though looking for something –anything– to fix this mess. Hotch closed his eyes briefly and breathed out through his nose.
"How long do we have to find the cure?"
"This is the better part of the news, Agent. We've found Dr. Nichols's inhaler at the lab, and Dr. Reid seemed to think it was a likely place to keep the cure in. Our analysts are processing it in the labs as we speak; I'll let you know as soon as we do."
Hotch swallowed. Once again, out of habit, he had to ask the question, to prepare everyone for the worse.
"And if it's not the cure?" he pressed. "How long do we have to do something about it?"
Dr. Kimura's voice was tense when she spoke. "Dr. Reid's symptoms are already in the last stage."
For the first time in a long time, Hotch found himself speechless.
. . .