Title: Chasing Ghosts 2?

Summary: Reid's sister visits and everything changes

Warnings: Slashy overtones kinda Reid/Morgan

Notes: This is not part of my Las Vegas universe. This is a completely different AU. Thanks to Silentflux who continues to make me a better writer!

Rating: PG

Spoliers: First season, LDSK Fisher King pt 1+2

Morgan sat on the edge of Reid's desk and looked down at him, and Reid tried hard to look busy. He wasn't fooling anyone. "So, your mom, when did you figure out something was wrong?"

Reid looked up and glanced around quickly, as if looking for someone to rescue him. "I, well I knew something was wrong when I was four or so. Whenever she'd start to go on about the government or went through a paranoid streak her aura would spike unnaturally." Morgan blinked a bit in shock. Ever since his sister's visit, Reid hadn't been inclined to talk about the paranormal. Of course, no one had pushed him about it either so perhaps he had taken his cue from them to just forget. Morgan decided that now was the perfect time to find out more.

"So, is that how you can tell that Laurel isn't just schizophrenic?"

Reid blinked a bit in shock at the question and relaxed smiling. "Yeah, it is." Morgan had to wonder briefly about his reaction, but then realized that Reid thought everyone would think the psychic thing was the family schizophrenia and not some ability. The thought startled Morgan a bit because now that he thought about it, it was a reasonable explanation; but it was also something that wouldn't have occurred to him. No, there was no doubt in his mind that Reid's sister was psychic. That made him wonder about what Reid saw when he looked at auras.

"Have you ever seen anything on a case about an unsub?" Reid looked away from Morgan's face, ashamed. "You have?" Reid nodded. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Well," Reid tapped his teeth nervously with his finger, "for awhile you guys didn't know about it. But after you knew, no one really wanted to talk about it, so I didn't. And most importantly, it would never have held up in court. You can't just get up on the witness stand and say, 'his aura told me he's a killer.'" Reid smiled and Morgan could see him picturing the defenses rebuttal.

"So what about me? What does my aura tell you?"

Reid blinked and Morgan realized that no one had asked him to demonstrate on one of them before. Hesitantly, Reid reached out and took a hold of Morgan's hand. It was warm and heavy in his own. Reid's fingers traced unseen lines delicately over Morgan's palm. "What, are you gonna read my palm?"

"An aura is more than just something you see. It's like the energy created by one's soul. Just like anything tangible, it's something that can be seen or felt. Sometimes, with really strong auras, I can even smell them. The Chinese art of acupuncture is a way to make chi, the energy of the body, your aura, flow. People can be very dismissive of the herbalist knowledge and spirituality of the East, but a lot of it is very accurate and useful." Reid's fingers continued to ghost over his palm, gentle and feather light. Morgan watched fascinated and a little entranced as Reid's eyes stared intently and started to slip closed.

"Your sister. Emily," Reid breathed the word like a sigh, "she's had a back slide, you're worried about her." A finger delicately traced a line on Morgan's palm that might in some circles be called a life line. "The women, the one night stands. So emotionally unsatisfying. You're just scratching a biological itch. You grow weary of it." Reid inhaled sharply and bent down tugging Morgan's hand even closer, his breath ghosting over his palm, warm and delicate. "High school. Basketball, football, soccer. You played because it was expected of you, but you'd rather be lifting weights or running track. You like the rhythm and the solitude. Brains masked by muscles. You hid who you were, but there -- you could think and feel without censure, think about-" Reid inhaled sharply and pulled away, dropping Morgan's hand like it was on fire. "You're afraid, afraid of me. Of what I just did."

Reid looked away, and Morgan didn't have to be psychic to know that there were tears pooling in those eyes and that Reid wouldn't face him for weeks if they didn't talk about this now. Reid was hurriedly pulling some papers into his satchel with shaking hands. Morgan reached out and grabbed an arm, stilling all of Reid at once.

"Reid, Spencer, look at me." Reid's head tentatively lifted up, his eyes briefly flicking up to meet Morgan's before falling back down. Sighing, knowing that was the best he was going to get Morgan starts to explain, "Yes, I was scared. But I wasn't scared of you." He says the words, but a voice whispers that maybe Reid saw something that he didn't even know was there.

"Anyone would be frightened at having their world expanded so quickly. I believed you about the ability-- hell, Laurel showed us enough to convince us. I -- just guess I didn't realize what an impact that would have. I knew it, I believed you I just didn't believe it. Please, Spencer, look at me." And finally, those nervous eyes glanced up, and Morgan pushed all those times when he'd affectionately watched Reid ramble, his fear when he walked onto that train, forward. He pushed every positive emotion or memory he ever had about Reid forward: training on the mats when Reid had managed a move that they'd been trying for days, the worry that Reid would burn out and that he couldn't help him. He shoved all of that to the surface and hoped that Reid saw: even if he had been afraid for a minute or two, that it didn't erase years of working together.

Reid's shoulders relaxed slightly, and he lost the look of manic energy and flight. He still wouldn't meet Morgan's eyes, but Morgan wasn't as worried that Reid would vanish out of the office and never return, calling in his resignation. The intense moment of emotional upheaval seemed to pass and Morgan let go of Reid's arm, exhausted.

"We have a case."

Morgan looked up into Hotch's stone face and felt a frisson of fear, wondering how long he'd been standing there. Reid seemed to preoccupied to notice and Morgan was thanking God if that really was the case.

88888888888888888

The plane ride was quiet. Everyone was much too preoccupied looking over the case files. These murders were particularly gruesome and no one felt the need to break the atmosphere. Despite his best intentions, Morgan fell asleep and when he woke, they had landed and Hotch was the only one left on the plane. "Where're the others?"

"They've already gotten off. What were you doing with Reid?"

Morgan shrugged, unsure of where Hotch was taking this. "We were just talking."

Hotch stared down intently and Morgan shifted under it, uncomfortable. "I'm not saying whether I believe in the paranormal or not, but if it gets out that Reid even believes in any of that stuff then he'll be ruined and dumped in some basement like Fox Mulder."

Hotch watched as Morgan nodded with the fear of God in him. Good. He wouldn't soon forget this.

88888888888888888

The team was in the morgue staring at the body of the latest victim, or what was left of it. Most pieces could be bagged in individual ziplocs. The only reason they could identify him at all was his DNA on record with the ROTC program.

"It's so violent. A complete disregard for humanity as a whole. I wonder if the unsub even saw him as a person. If he sees anyone as a person." Reid said.

Gideon was leaned over the body as well, though they were the only two. The rest of the team was standing back, happy to observe and not lose their lunch. It's not that they can't normally handle a grisly scene, but watching the two thoughtfully prod what appeared to be a piece of brain matter was enough to make even the most iron of constitutions fail. Gideon straightened suddenly, saying, "Well we've learned all we can here. I suggest we split up into teams of two and take the crime scenes individually. This man is on a spree, and he won't stop until we stop him."

Somehow Reid got paired with Morgan and he couldn't bring himself to look at him yet. He knew that they couldn't avoid each other forever, but a night to sleep on it would be nice. Head bowed, he shuffled down the corridor, staring at the tile when the overwhelming smell of death, decay and feces hit his nose. Choking on the air, he looked up frantically searching for the smell, but no one else in the busy corridor seemed to notice it. Soon it was dissipating and while he could breath easier, the taste of it still lingered in his mouth, sickening him.

"Hey man, you okay?"

Reid, still distracted by the smell, didn't even worry about Morgan or what had happened earlier. "Yeah there's just this rancid–smell. I'm fine." Reid shook off his preoccupation and strode forward, choosing to move to somewhere more pleasant -- like the crime scene of a spree killer.