I don't own Criminal Minds, any or its characters, etc. Just the typical, valuable-if-you-get-sued disclaimer there. Only character I own here is Haley, just because it seemed a good idea to throw Reid a curveball and see how he (and my mind when writing as him) takes it.
It had been a long, dark night on surveillance for Dr. Reid. He'd been running on over-sugared coffee and cashews for hours. Prentiss sat next to him in the car, noshing cashews from the same over-sized bag, as it was supposedly a low-risk job-only watching a very rural neighborhood for the night to get the feel for the Virginia neighborhood's rhythms and what made it so predictable to the Un-Sub. It was a hilly place, with rolling tilts and rocky, dusty road, large paddocks filled with sheep, cows, and horses. Large oak trees showed as black shadows against a dark sky. The sky itself seemed alive with the absence of streetlights, and one could imagine that in a night this dark, all the stars in the universe were visible.
Suddenly, screams for mercy came from one of the few still-lit homes. It rang out clearly, and Reid and Prentiss were able to hear it without the typical noise pollution of the city, making it even more eerie. A teenaged girl was thrown outside the house with a hard, driving punch to the center of the face, and she scrambled off the porch and into the adjoining horse stalls as fast as she could. The door slammed behind the man, who retreated into the house.
Though Prentiss was watching hawk-eyed, Reid was even more intent upon the girl. He took all the time he had when not working or visiting his mother to counsel kids in the adoptive system, and this particular one brought back a memory.
A blue-eyed, black-haired mid-teen sat across from him at the table. Her barely-over-five-foot-three frame was curled up with her knees to her chest, and everyone else had left the room for their first session. He was a psychologist, they reasoned, and this was a tough case. She shivered visibly, eyeing him as if he, the physical equivalent of a paper bag, was going to give her a beating right then and there.
Over the course of several sessions, he was finally able to get her to trust him-and only him-to touch her. He would spend a good half hour opening up every session with primitive trust exercises, the hardest of which was for her to fall back and him to catch her. She had never quite trusted him to catch her, but after she fell back even halfheartedly, he would catch her and sit across the table again to start the talking part of the session.
Before she left, she spoke about being adopted out to a place with horses, and had been told that she was expected to train them. She'd been excited, and both therapist and patient hoped for the best.
Prentiss wasn't able to stop him from getting out of the car, and so got out with him.
"Haley…" he called out softly. "I know you know my vo-ice…Ha-a-le-ey…" He kept his calls soft and low for fear that the man would come out before he could get her location.
"Here", Haley replied, quietly, crouched in a sea of equine limbs. "Is he out?" she whispered with considerable volume and urgency.
"No; he's inside", Reid whispered back. "We'll arrest him for abuse right now; you go over to the car and lock yourself inside. It'll all be over before you know it."
She nodded and took off, still in a low crouch, skittishly skirting Prentiss' legs on her way to the car.
"What was that all about?" Prentiss asked.
"She was one of my worst therapy cases."
"You do therapy?"
"In my free time, with adoption-system kids", Reid replied nonchalantly, walking somewhat awkwardly up to the door and knocking, a hand on his gun and Prentiss in tow. "FBI! Open up!"
The door opened slowly, and a large man in blue jeans and a flannel shirt stepped out.
"Yes?" he asked with marked indifference.
"You're under arrest for child abuse", Reid said in anger. Before, it was just an objective thing, a happening, but to witness it…it made one's blood boil, even in his peaceable veins, to see life so mistreated.
"It's not abuse if it doesn't leave a mark lasting over 24 hours!"
Reid looked over his shoulder at other crouching kids. "Well, the blonde girl seems to have quite a few bruises over 24 hours old, judging by the color…as I said, you're under arrest for child abuse." He handcuffed the man without a fight and led him to the car. While Prentiss called Hotchner to inform him of the new development and the fact that they would need a large van or small bus to transport the kids, seemingly unrelated to the case, out of there.