"When you said you needed help with lifting, I'd kinda hoped you'd meant bench pressing, kid." Derek Morgan wheezed and jostled a large black metal box into a more sure grip before daring another stair up.
"Hey, hey, careful! That's a collector's item. " Spencer Reid braced his elbows on the railing of his apartment complex above to watch the slow moving procession of his friend below. "Are you sure you don't want me to help? Weight distribution of a mass between four points versus just your two is calculated to increase the sway control of the load by -"
"NO, Reid." Morgan huffed. Sweat dripped off a pounding vein in his forehead and narrowly missed his eye. " I don't need your gangly limbs gettin' tied up into this mess-" he took a strained breath and stepped, " -knocking my ass back the three flights I just climbed."
It hadn't been so bad to the first landing. With a breeze to his back from the propped open entrance door and fresh arms, he didn't think it would be a problem at all. However, this August was especially hot and the drought that had settled over Quantico was sucking the water out of everything, human alike. The state had even issued a ban on campfires, just in case one got out of control.
"What the hell is this thing anyway?" He edged up another stair and braced against the wall with his shoulder. His cheek pressed against the warm steel of the box, slick with sweat. If he got a hernia from this, so help him God. "Is this lined with lead?"
"Not lined, but I suppose there might be some lead components, especially since it's dated from the late eighteen hundreds. It's actually a polysine generator, which emits a high voltage, but low current shock used in early and rather unsuccessful electroconvulsive therapy treatments mostly aimed at depression. I doubt it's even functional, given its age."
The younger man thrummed his fingertips on the wooden banister looking cool as a cucumber, and Morgan was suddenly half temped to fling the contraption back down and make the doctor carry it up the last flight himself.
"And you have this why, exactly?" He drawled.
"I won it at the police auction today for only $200. They seized it about a month ago, so it's nothing short of a wonder I got to it first."
"Wow." Morgan deadpanned, hoisting up the last step.
"I know!" Reid chirped, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
"Not what I'm wowing at, kid." With one last tight heave of effort, he settled it down on the top landing with a weighty metallic thud. "I can think of $200 worth of cold ones that sound like a better deal right now."
The doctor fumbled with his keys at his door and sighed. "I know, I know. I promised drinks. But really, thanks again Morgan. There's no way I'd have gotten it up here myself."
Morgan wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and fanned his t-shirt from his damp abs. "You never explained why you have this thing, though."
Reid paused momentarily mid-turn of his door handle before opening up into the sun-bathed apartment. Morgan tugged the bulky contraption in in tow. Dust flitted from tall book cases, catching dreamily in the bright afternoon, and was seemingly disturbed only by Morgan's still-labored breaths. Spencer turned partway towards the light and pulled his signature half-smile, a pained glint in his eyes for the brief seconds he could bare to hold eye contact with Derek.
"It's something Gideon told me a long time ago." He said quietly, thumbing the set of keys that were still in his hand. He gazed blankly down and Morgan waited, now much more serious. "He said 'true courage is not determined by acting fearless, but by facing the fears we choose to admit we have'."
Morgan frowned, cocking his head questioningly while Reid tucked his keys in his pocket and eyed the machine, resigned.
"Polysine generators were also used to treat schizophrenia. I've been afraid of machines like this since the day I understood what they were..." His voice was gentle. He crouched down and poked at one of the knobs on the top and traced a few letters etched below to avoid looking at Morgan.
"Reid..."
"No - I know -" He stammered, "I'm taking it a bit literal, but after everything that's happened lately, I couldn't help but to look back at the advice that he gave me and not care that I hadn't taken it. It's just a machine. It's such an irrational phobia to have. I shouldn't let these kind of things control me anymore...life's too short."
Reid blinked away the moisture in his reddening eyes, and the older agent decided to pin blame on the dry summer air. Placing a hand over the young man's shoulder, he smiled sadly.
"You're right, yah know. I couldn't have said it better myself. Though it's not about when we take advice, it's that we do." He squeezed his hand just slightly. "And you happen to be one of the most courageous people I know." His smile broadened as Spencer looked up at him in surprise.
"Really?"
"Yeah, Spence. Really." Morgan threw an arm around Reid as he stood up, pulling him into a half hug. "Now how 'bout those drinks, Pretty Boy?"
Reid let out a short, relieved laugh while closing the door behind them, leaving the machine to settle with the sunlit dust.
"Let's take the elevator down."
"WHAT?! "
"Just kidding, Morgan. Seriously, I promise there isn't one. Ouch! Seriously!"
.
Author note: This started off as a one shot from a really creepy dream I had. I'm going to work this as the whole plot I originally envisioned in a multi-chapter story. Please let me know what you think!
