...And it's Christmas by JuliaBC

Chapter Two: Snow


Out in the snow, Reid's head seemed to be clearing. With the green and silver package clutched tight in his gloveless hand, he made his way around the building, breathing in the icy air and hoping the feeling would calm him.

He gazed up, letting the white flakes land straight on his face; in his eyes, on the tip of his nose, and melting when they landed on his lips. He drew in another shuddering breath and finally felt assured that his emotions were under control again.

He just wanted to get back to his small apartment, and ignore the outside world and the one who didn't love him back.

The one who could never love him back... Aaron Hotchner.

He heard the faint ring of a phone coinciding with soft footsteps, and resisted the urge to see whose it was. It was just someone leaving early, walking to their car. It had nothing to do with him.

He heard the sound a certain model of phone made when you hit the Ignore button. The sound Hotch's phone made.

Reid froze, trying to prevent himself from reacting. His breath quickened as he mentally explored the options.

Surely other people had the same model of phone as Hotch!

Just the same, Reid found himself turning around slowly, ducking his head to look at the ground and the first thing he saw were high quality black shoes.

His gaze travelled upward, to legs wearing impeccably tailored black pants that perfectly fit the man wearing them.

The man who held in the hand dangling nervously at his side a package wrapped in red, red paper and carefully dusted with glitter.

"Hotch?" Reid stepped forward, now noting the Unit Chief's coat, which he wasn't wearing but was hastily draped over one arm.

"I came out to find you," Hotch said, and the words washed over Reid like ice. Of course that was the only reason Hotch was here. And the package was probably from Garcia, shoved into Hotch's hand in an attempt to lure Reid back.

If that was the case, Reid would have preferred Hotch without the package.

"I'm leaving," Reid said. "I just stopped to look at the snow."

"Why so early? Do you have obligations elsewhere?" Hotch asked the question without missing a beat, but his voice seemed to falter midway through. Reid took it as Hotch reacting to the cold.

"I still have things to do, yes."

Reid shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling immensely relieved they were large enough to hold the present. He stood only five feet fromHotch, a distance that could be walked in as many steps.

Reid felt like there was a fricking chasm between them.

"Come on, Reid. Come back inside, and we can talk this through."

"No, I don't want to talk it through," Reid said, feeling his heart beat faster. "I have to go."

Hotch stepped forward, and Reid stepped backward. The snow was falling more heavily, and Reid's breath turned to vapor in the cold air.

He turned around and started walking to the stairs that led to the parking lot. He heard Hotch's footsteps behind him and when he placed his hand on the cold railing, Hotch placed his own over it.

It was like flying. Reid stared up at Hotch, two steps above him, and his breathing grew erratic.

He turned around, jerked his hand away and rushed down the stairs, until he missed a step, and went flying.


The sky suddenly grew light, and he was warm. A figure of light bent down to him, reaching it's hand out for Reid to take.

Reid took it, wondering. It was the same figure, wasn't it?

And then they started to fly. Reid could look down and see his body lying on the steps, but he was going farther and farther up. And then, suddenly, he was in Hotch's office.

He started to speak, noticed Hotch sitting in his chair and closed his mouth.

To his utter shock, the door opened and a Spencer Reid walked in. Reid realized he recognized the clothes the other him was wearing. They were the same he'd worn three weeks ago.

Three weeks ago! Reid shook his head. No, I can't have traveled back in time.

You haven't, the figure said. This is merely a showing of what happened that day.

Reid felt a weird sense of deja vu, turned to the figure and asked, "You aren't by any chance the ghost of Christmas past, are you?"

No. Now watch and listen.

Reid turned back to the action. Hotch was speaking to Reid, about the case they'd been on at the time. "There's no significance to this meeting," Reid said, frustrated, turning back to the figure.

You think so? Profile him.

Reid hesitated, then turned back to watch Hotch. He stepped closer, ascertained that Hotch couldn't see him, then he walked right over and touched Hotch's arm.

He could feel the unit chief's arm, warm beneath his hand, but Hotch registered no feeling and Reid moved to watch Hotch.

In his right hand, he held a pen he kept swiveling up and down and twisting between his fingers.

Easy. "He's nervous," Reid said, straightening to face the figure again. "Why is he nervous? This is just routine."

Keep going.

"Okay..." Reid said, and kept watching. Hotch was licking his lips, more than usual. Maybe they were chapped and maybe...

Reid would leave that one for later. Besides, he felt a bit uncomfortable just standing there staring at how Hotch licked his...lips.

Hotch's hand, the one not holding the pen, kept reaching up to adjust his tie, scratch behind his ear or press against his chin or lips as he watched Reid speak.

Reid looked at himself, at how rapidly his hands were moving, a sure tell for Reid. He knew that meant the other him was nervous, as he remembered being.

He looked back at Hotch, and noticed how Hotch reached for the glass of water on his desk when (the former one) Reid absently tucked hair behind his ear as he spoke, and again when Reid relaxed enough to lean back in his chair and place a foot on his opposite knee, and every time Reid licked his lips, which was a lot because they had been slightly chapped that day.

Reid (the current one) moved away, freaked out beyond measure. "I think I know what you wanted me to see," he told the figure, and the figure nodded.

Then my job is finished.


When he came back to himself, he was lying on the stairs, one arm clutching the railing. He'd just barely caught himself, but he'd still been lain flat. He felt something soft beneath his head, and realized it was Hotch's coat, bundled up.

And Hotch himself leaned over him, on his knees next to Reid, trying to shake him awake.

"Sorry, so sorry," Reid gasped, trying to sit up and Hotch pushed him back down.

"Why are you apologizing?" Hotch asked, a tenderness in his voice Reid had never noticed before. "You fell. That wasn't your fault."

Looking into Hotch's eyes, at that exact moment, Reid had an idea that as long as the other man was around, he wouldn't care whose fault anything was.

Reid's breath caught at the picture Hotch made, with the snow coating his hair and dusting his shoulders. He opened his mouth to speak.


A/N: I'll say again that I just wasn't sure how to fit in something supernatural, as it isn't usually my thing. I hope this satisfies that request and that it isn't too unrealistic, especially for Reid.