Pain

Reid had a stomach ache. He didn't know what he brought it on, but what he did know was that they'd just pulled up at the crime scene and he wasn't sure it was physically possible for him to get out. The pain was like knives and it was unrelenting. No position seemed to relieve it and he'd had it since getting onto the airplane. Aboard, though, it somehow wasn't as noticeable. Now…it was all he could think about.

Morgan had closed his door and was about to talk away when he realized that Reid was still in the backseat.

"Hey, old man, aren't you coming?" He asked, opening the back door and sticking his head in. While Reid didn't mind Morgan's concern…he did mind it.

"During the ride my stomach decided to murder me and hide the corpse," he informed the other man, slouching. "Seriously, though. I don't think I can move without screaming in pain."

"Dude, why? Did you eat something?"

"It's not that kind of stomach ache," Reid grumbled. "That's the frustrating thing. Can I just stay in the car?"

"Why didn't you say something before we left? Hotch would have let you stay behind."

"It didn't start until after we left," Reid sighed. "Please? The car? You can tell me everything you learn and I can draw conclusions from that."

"I—sure. But I'd prefer you telling Hotch, just to make sure."

"Make sure of what?" Reid grumbled, but Morgan had closed the door and walked away. Reid curled up into a ball and thanked God that the windows were tinted and no one could see inside.

The phone conversation was awkward. Reid's misery had failed to fully present itself to Hotch when the man on the other end could only hear Reid and not see him, and so it had taken a few minutes to explain what exactly was happening. Even then, he remained confused.

"I'm confused. You can't get out of the car because of a stomach ache?"

"Yes, Hotch. And no, I'm not pregnant or doing drugs." Reid's annoyance had spiked with Hotch's last question. To Reid, it seemed like Hotch was being purposely obtuse.

"Sorry, I just still don't quite comprehend what the problem is."

"I am in pain." Reid said, rather flatly, and he could almost hear what Hotch was thinking:

You've never let that stop you before.

"Okay," Hotch acquiesced finally. "Okay. But when you get to the station, I'll need to talk to you."

Yeah, you and everyone else. What happens when Garcia hears?

A rap on the window woke him. Amazingly, he'd dozed while waiting for Morgan to return.

"Hey, man. Can you move to front seat so we can talk about the case better?"

Reid unfolded himself with some difficulty; he was too tall to do it comfortably, his joints were stiff from the awkward position and his stomach still hurt. "Sure, sure," he forced out as he got out of the car to get in the front seat.

Morgan started the car and backed out of his space, craning his neck to look behind. "So, Reid, do you know what started this pain?"

"No." Reid stated, his voice flatter than a pancake. "And I came up here to talk about the case, not about my stomach."

Morgan glanced at him sideways, eyes narrowed. "There's more to it than this."

"There usually is, the problem being…" Reid sighed. "I don't know what."

"Antacids will not help," Reid repeated. "I am not having digestive problems."

"Sure?" JJ rattled the bottle. "They always help me."

"Good for you," Reid mumbled. "And get those away from me."

"He's feeling a little sensitive," Morgan explained as he walked by, clapping JJ on the shoulder and Reid looked up, narrowing his eyes.

"When I am feeling better, you will regret that remark," he said as a warning, but Morgan only waggled his eyebrows.

"I look forward to that, old man," he flipped back and Reid tossed his notebook at him, giving Morgan even more reasons to leave the room cackling.

JJ picked up the book. "Is this really just from the stomach ache?"

"Stomach pain alters anyone's mood," Reid told her. "It isn't like being shot, where you have to be strong. When you have a stomach or tooth ache, you just whine, and it's perfectly fine."

JJ chuckled. "That's an…interesting philosophy."

"Thanks. I just made it up but I shall live by it to the end of my days," he finished, looking up at her with a smile on his face.

She ruffled his hair on her way out. "Please, Reid, do. I'm happy to listen to your…stomach grumblings any time."

Reid pursed his lips at the choice of words but had no choice but to let it slide as Hotch entered, Prentiss on his heels.

"You think he's guilty, right?" Prentiss was saying and Hotch shook his head.

"I have my doubts. Sebastian seems to be a more likely choice." He leveled Reid with a steady stare. "How are you feeling?"

"Terrible," Reid chirped.

"And loving it, it seems," Prentiss finished. "I want to go back to the library, see Mrs. Davis again. I think she knew more than she let on and I think with what Daniel just said, I can catch her bluff."

She picked up her coat and walked out, leaving Hotch to raise an eyebrow at Reid unhindered.

"So, a stomach ache?"

"It's like knives piercing me," Reid explained. "But I, oddly enough, don't feel as miserable as I did earlier, despite the fact that the pain has not gone away or abated in the least."

"You must still be somewhat miserable," Hotch began, "because you haven't told me an obscure fact about stomach aches."

"Yeah, I must still be," Reid said, and slouched again.

A funny look came over Hotch's face. "How long have you had it?"

"Since we got on the plane."

An even funnier look. Hotch sat down. "Reid, why do I suspect you aren't telling the truth? I will profile you." To prove it, he scrutinized Reid from the top of his head down to his toes. "It's a lie, definitely. But why on earth fake a stomach ache? What did you gain from that?"

Reid started spouting unintelligible facts about stomach aches, unintelligible because he was talking so quickly.

"Slow down," Hotch commanded, but Reid went on at full speed, until Hotch clamped a hand over his mouth. "Okay, I get it. Just—okay, you have a stomach ache." He stood up and raked a hand through his hair, while Reid looked up at him reproachfully.

"That was rude, Hotch. I wasn't lying."

"Just keep believing that," Hotch muttered as he left. Reid looked after him with narrowed eyes but an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach, unrelated to the knives he had started keeping there.

"Damn it," he found slipping through his lips.

A/N: I wrote this with a stomach ache. Actually, over the last few days, I've had a frightening variety of stomach aches. It isn't fun. But I tried to make that only the catalyst and then give the question of whether Reid was telling the truth or whether it was psychosomatic.

And I do think that it is true about stomach aches versus something more serious. It's easier to complain about little things but you feel stupid if you complain about something big. And, to a certain extent, a stomach ache like that can be more debilitating than a gun shot wound. With the latter, you have to bear the pain.

I'll update this tomorrow or in the next few days. This was more 'out there' than my others so far and I need to carefully consider what happens next.

Also, I'm rewatching the seventh season and it really tickled me when Morgan called Reid old man on his birthday. I think I'll be sticking with that moniker.