Chapter 2

PRESENT

Reid was having a major case of déjà vu: There he was again, rocking nervously on his toes in a Bureau-paid-for hotel room, with every intention of working the case… and finding, to his endless frustration, that any attempt to refocus was thwarted by thoughts of a team member lodged next door. He found himself wondering if confrontation was indeed the way to go this time around.

Of course, Reid thought dryly, when it was Elle Greenaway with whom he had had a bone to pick with, it had been more of an intervention than an all-out confrontation.

Elle hadn't been right for weeks before he'd invited himself into her room, where he'd proceeded to coax her into admitting that she was suffering from PTSD. Now, instead of concern for a teammate, it was an all-consuming rage that Reid felt.

Also, he noted, as he started to pace restlessly around the room, that he'd been fully dressed in work attire when he'd gone to Elle all those years ago. Now he was in pajamas. Not exactly the most intimidating garb for a confrontation, but Reid couldn't bring himself to care as he stormed out of his room with every intention of giving Hotch a piece of his mind.

FLASHBACK

"Anderson, I've just been info- What the FUCK do you think you're doing?"

Reid let out a pitiful squeak of shock and embarrassment as Hotch's deep shout cracked like thunder through the copy room. The two lovers looked up at the man in the doorway- the very tall, intimidating (and fully dressed) man with a look on his face that could kill.

Realizing that his bare back- and backside- were still turned to his boss, Anderson whirled around to face him. Reid's legs appeared to be paralyzed in their position, still wrapped around his boyfriend's waist… but at least the young man's private areas were mostly obscured by his lover's body. There was nothing to be done about Anderson's nakedness, however.

"Sir! Dr. Reid and I were just… the case report-"

Hotch cut him off. The blaze of fury that his eyes had been a moment earlier had suddenly turned to ice. When the Unit Chief spoke, the usual chill back in his tone.

"Reid, be in the round-table room in five minutes… fully clothed, if you will. We've got a case," As Hotch addressed his youngest team member, Reid could not meet his eye, "You, Anderson, are hereby suspended from your post at the BAU. As of right now, the premises of the FBI Academy are off limits until and unless I decide that you should be reinstated."

Anderson heard Reid's sharp intake of breath and felt the squeeze of the younger man's legs around his hips in reaction to the Unit Chief's words. Whether Reid was confused at the sparing of his own career or indignant at the damage to his lovers', Anderson did not know. Either way, the boy's continued discomfort unleashed the alpha-male presence that had vanished since his boss' arrival.

"On what grounds sir?"

"…Excuse me, Anderson?"

It was perfectly clear to a mortified Reid what his boss and boyfriend were doing: each man, respectively, was using the other's title as an indirect insult to his position on the BAU's hierarchy. His boyfriend was reminding him of the neanderthallic men he'd read about, who would display their genetalia as a sign of dominance.

"On what grounds am I being suspended?"

"For sexually harassing Dr. Reid."

At this, Reid flinched and made a barelyaudible whimper of protest that was nevertheless heard by the two elder men. The boy was just about to speak up in defense of his lover when the latter reached behind and placed a soothing, possessive hand on his thigh.

"I've got this, baby."

Hotch narrowed his eyes at the endearment. Without his legendary discipline, he might've fired his service weapon. As it was, he knew that he wouldn't be able to take another minute in that copy room.

"Reid, get dressed. Anderson, leave the Davidson report."

Reid's eyes widened as they dropped to the copy machine on which he was sitting.

Anderson's eyes closed as his face turned to a grimace of pure anguish.

Hotch's eyes followed those of the youngest profiler's.

Together, the three men looked down to see the brown, FBI emblemized case file peeking out from where it was tucked… underneath the youth's bottom.

PRESENT

Photos of the crime scene as well as headshots of each of five deceased young women were strewn across the hotel bed. In the Unit Chief's hands were their respective autopsy results. The coroner's notes had remained fairly consistent with each victim: Excessive care had been taken to minimize physical injury to the women during the sexual assault that preceded death. The unsub's MO for each kill had consisted of severing the carotid artery with a sharp blade- quick, efficient, with minimal pain to the victim. Upon arrival at each crime scene, police had found the corpses lain out on their beds in classic burial position.

All signs pointed to a power-reassurance rapist whose attacks had, at some point, become lethal. The next logical step would be to look for connections with local rapes whose MOs matched (besides the whole killing bit.) He would call Garcia in the morning.

Hotch couldn't help but smile to himself. Working any case- any profile- could be made into a meditative experience, especially if he needed distraction. He just needed the right frame of mind. And he'd achieved just that: preoccupation.

Still in an especially self-congratulatory mood, Hotch gave himself a metaphorical pat on the back for having kept up his professionalism with Reid all day. It hadn't been that difficult. He was used to diving into work in times of emotional turmoil. He'd done so in the wake of his divorce, through Gideon's abandonment… surely he could get through this the same way. He'd deal with Anderson when the case was over.

Knock… knock. Knock knock.

The hesitance behind the first two knocks was not lost on Hotch. The knocker hadn't been sure of his desire to see the Unit Chief, but had gained confidence at the realization that he could not turn back after making their presence known. Hotch knew who it would be before he opened the door.

"Reid."

One look at the boy and Hotch knew his commitment to remaining professional through this ordeal wasn't going to hold up. There stood his youngest subordinate in an oversized nightshirt and matching pants, both of which accentuated his too-skinny frame. The determined look in Reid's eyes was at odds with his defensive posture- shoulders hunched, arms crossed- it only made him appear more vulnerable. How could Anderson have taken advantage of him so?

"I… I need to talk to you about Patrick,"

Hotch suppressed a cringe at the boy's use of his abuser's first name. It suddenly occurred to him that he should invite Reid in from the hallway. Wordlessly, he stepped back and motioned for the young man to follow. Once the door was closed, Reid took a deep breath and continued:

"What you saw this morning was a… blatant, um… misuse of Bureau property,"

The Unit Chief should have taken pity on Reid by now. Even the poor boy's ears were a deep shade of pink. But Hotch had found himself immobilized, a savage part of him wanting to hear how pathetic Reid's excuse for submitting to Anderson was.

"It was thoughtless and irresponsible… and it was also my idea."

Reid's last words stunned Hotch into speech.

"I won't have you defending that man-"

"'That man'? 'That man' is my BOYFRIEND!"

Hotch could no longer hold back his disgust for what Anderson had done to Reid- to the innocence that the Unit Chief secretly treasured in the young man. Hotch wasn't going to pull any more punches if they would make Reid see the truth.

"A power-reassurance rapist is always looking to build up his self image. He holds a low-ranking job, and it's not uncommon for the victim he selects to work with him, often at higher rank. The victim is selected for traits that the rapist finds most likely to boost his ego- humility, shyness, insecurity… I'm sure Anderson sees all that in you."

Reid's jaw had dropped at some point during Hotch's spiel, and angry tears had formed in his eyes.

"Anderson. Didn't. Rape me."

"But he coerced you, didn't he?"

The young man was shaking his head in denial, one betraying tear slipping down his cheek. He wiped furiously at it with his nightshirt sleeve. Why had he come to Hotch's room? His boss was the harasser, not his boyfriend! Reid turned his back on the Unit Chief and wrenched the door open. He flinched as Hotch's hand slammed the door shut again.

"I never took you for a passive victim, Reid."

A beat of silence passed. The tension was palpable. It broke when Hotch's hand drew back and Reid fled down the hallway without a backwards glance.