Chapter Six
Reid threw himself into the work during the day in a way that he hadn't in many weeks. He felt a new sense of purpose, the same old fire he had felt before in the course of his job. The case took them into the French Quarter – the Vieux Carre – and the exotic energy in the old city streets rubbed off on Reid. Even the task of examining the crime scenes where two new bodies had been found, didn't provide enough darkness to take away the lightness in his step. Reid analyzed, theorized, calculated as he had on any of his former best days. Even Hotch noticed with some considerable relief that Reid was pulling no punches; he was on the trail of this unsub like a bloodhound, sparks of the old boy genius springing into the mix. He joked with the team as if he were the old Reid, the person that had considered his team his closest companions and confidants - before the plane crash - the one that had shared with them his concerns and troubles, the one that had been comfortable accepting advice and help from them.
The only one he didn't joke around with today was Morgan. Since Reid had met the team that morning Morgan had been stomping around like a storm waiting to break. Reid was confused, not knowing whether the problem was with the stress of the case, or something he himself had done - whether Morgan had a beef with him or with the world in general. It was often hard to tell, when Morgan was like this, what the source of the annoyance was. And so Reid stepped carefully around Morgan as the day advanced into evening, avoiding eye contact, not daring to initiate any conversation.
When 6 pm came, Reid declined to join the team for dinner. Instead he met Ethan at the Café du Monde. There, Ethan ordered them both a café au lait and a beignet, and as was the local custom, he blew the powdered sugar onto Reid, laughing to see the surprise on Reid's face, and told him to make a wish. Reid smiled and brushed the powder off his tie.
"Don't tell me," cautioned Ethan, "If you tell me it won't come true." He reached across the table and brushed powder from Reid's cheek. Then he leaned back in his chair and watched Reid sip his coffee. No one loved good coffee like Reid.
Reid regarded his friend sitting there, sprawled into the chair as if he owned it, a masculine pose. Ethan had always exuded a masculine aura. An air of confidence, of owning a room, a chair, a piano, a crowd. Ethan had possessed some of that energy even as a very young man, and now here he was a grown man, full bearded and hard-bodied, and that wonderful energy filled a room. Reid admired it. Reid, who so often wanted to melt into the floor when entering a room.
"So what's the plan?" said Ethan suddenly.
"What?"
"The case – how long will you be here?"
Reid shrugged and brushed more sugar from his shirt. "Uh. . two, three days. I don't really know."
Ethan leaned forward, elbows on the table. "And…what does that mean for you and me?"
Reid didn't answer, but looked down at his beignet, slowly tearing a piece off and turning it around in his fingers.
"I don't mean . . . I don't mean the future Reid, don't panic, " Ethan laughed without humor. "I mean for two days."
Reid breathed out slowly. "I like seeing you again."
Ethan cleared his throat before taking another gulp of coffee. He watched Reid's face for a few moments, and then said, "You are welcome to come 'round anytime. I mean to my place. If you want to. I play until 1 a.m. usually, unless..."
"I want to stay with you tonight." Reid said suddenly as he looked up into Ethan's eyes.
"Okay, " said Ethan calmly, smiling as he took another sip. Then he reached into his pocket, fished out a key, and slid it across the table.
~~/~~
Morgan had noticed when Reid slipped into his hotel room later that evening. He waited a polite interval and then knocked on the door of Reid's room.
"Hey. Morgan." Reid said when he opened the door, his hair wet from a shower. "What's up?"
Morgan stepped into the room without invitation. Reid shrugged and smirked to himself and closed the door behind him. Morgan strode to the window and stood for a few moments, looking out, hands on his hips. Without turning he said, "You know where I spent last night?"
Reid was confused. "I guess. . .in your hotel room?"
"No Reid, in YOUR hotel room."
"Uh . . . Why?"
Morgan turned and faced him, arms folded across his chest. "You didn't come back, Kid. It got late. I was concerned." He watched as Reid buttoned a fresh shirt. "You going out? Again?"
Reid laughed lightly and turned to fold the shirt lying on the bed. "I'm a grown man, Morgan."
Morgan fought to keep his voice even, determined that calm restraint would be heard in his words, "You're a grown man with . . . you have some problems, Reid."
The long fingers paused momentarily against the fabric of the shirt before lifting it into the open bag on the bed. "My problems – to whatever you are referring specifically - aren't affecting my work. I'm fine. You don't have to worry."
"You aren't FINE. You're losing it, Man!"
"Losing what Morgan?" Reid turned to face him, the familiar defiance creeping into the dark eyes. Reid was wondering what on earth he would have to lose now. Aubrey was gone.
"Losing perspective! You're shaky, unfocussed, you're late half the time. You lie to us. Now you creep off like you don't want to be around the rest of the team . . ."
"CREEP OFF? Ha!" Reid laughed loudly. "I was out, Morgan. Big deal."
"And this evening?"
"I met a friend."
"Ethan?"
The way Morgan hissed the name made Reid pause. "Yes. Ethan. So?"
"What did you do with him all night?"
"Excuse me?"
Morgan knew he was treading on unsafe ground. That unstable precipice one stands upon just before going somewhere from whence there is no return. "You heard me." He glowered at Reid, standing his ground but unsure himself what exactly he was defending.
"Morgan what is wrong with you?" Reid's eyes were wider now, a scowl appearing across his brow.
"Did he help you score? Give you a fix? Share it with you?"
"Are you CRAZY?" Reid was yelling now.
"Why were you out with him all night?" Morgan screamed back.
Reid took several steps toward Morgan. He was shaking with anger, throughout the length of his long, slight frame. "He's an old friend Morgan! And for your information he doesn't do drugs!"
"Why are you defending him?"
"Why are you attacking him?"
"Because you were out ALL NIGHT LONG!"
Reid laughed again, a sneering laugh. "Morgan, it is really none of your business how late I'm out or whom I am with, is it?"
Morgan stepped into Reid's personal space and leaned into his face. "It's my business if it hurts the team."
"I'm NOT hurting the team!"
"You're using!" Morgan's fists were clenched at his side now, and he had lost the battle to keep fury from his eyes.
Reid didn't step back. He glared into Morgan's eyes and then he said, lowly and deliberately. "You want to hurt me, Morgan?"
Morgan gasped softly, searching Reid's eyes for a reason why he could ask such a thing. But even as he did, he felt his fists trembling and knew there was some truth in it: he was beyond angry with the young agent, and he wasn't really certain why. All he could think to do was to study the young man's face for answers. Then Morgan stopped and reached for Reid's chin. Reid ducked his head back, but then let Morgan touch his chin and lift it up slightly, positioning his face into better light. "You're bruised."
Reid turned away and stepped back, sullen, silent.
"What IS that?" Morgan yelled. "You're bruised!"
"We . . I had a little uh . .. altercation. It's nothing."
Morgan stood and stared at Reid, exasperated, for several torturous seconds. In the end he didn't answer, just put his hand on Reid's chest and shoved him roughly aside, landing him on the bed. "See you tomorrow," he mumbled as he walked out and slammed the door.
Reid sat on the bed, numb with bewilderment. He could, he supposed, somewhat understand Morgan's concern. But he wasn't a child after all, and if he chose to be away from the hotel all night when he wasn't on the clock, that was no one's business but his own. Morgan had never even met Ethan, what right did he have to say those things? Any issues Reid had did not have a thing to do with Ethan.
He rose and ran a comb through his hair, pulled on his jacket, picked up his phone and stuffed it in his pocket. He dug into the side of his bag and removed a vial of Dilaudid and a syringe and put that into the pocket of his trousers. He picked up Ethan's key from the dresser and smiled to himself as he fingered it, looking at the filigree patterns in the century-old metal object. He was still smiling when he left the room, heading down to the lobby, and out into the New Orleans night.
~~/~~
Morgan heard the click of Reid's door when he left. He thought about following him, but restrained himself. What reason would he be able to give for that? After all, he knew where Reid was going. And Morgan couldn't justify following him, not really. He couldn't prove that Ethan was the problem. Could it possibly be true that Ethan didn't do drugs? That they were simply, well, old friends? Morgan shook his head, pondering: Reid didn't have any normal friendships. He didn't even go out with the team half the time. He wouldn't even do it back when . . .when he was himself. He was such a loner. So why all the socializing with Ethan now?
But what was really bothering Morgan was why it bothered him at all. Why should he care where Reid was? If the kid didn't care about his own well-being why should Morgan be so wrapped up in it? Reid did have a point after all – he wasn't ever exactly incoherent or "stoned" in the classic meaning of the word. He was always present when he needed to be. He was indeed doing the job.
Still, the change in him had been gradual but apparent. Drastic. He was so often curt, sullen, cold. Through the years, they had watched him grow from a shy young kid into a man who was kind of heart, if awkward about showing it. Reid was a gentlemen, considerate of others, compassionate. He over-sympathized with victims until he deprived himself of sleep and food. He even had on occasion over-sympathized with unsubs. Reid had even developed an appropriate sense of humor in recent years. He knew how to laugh at himself too, and he had slowly become comfortable in his own skin. He even walked differently now (with a slight limp owing to the gunshot wound a few years back), with more grace and confidence than he had when he first came to the BAU. He moved with greater self-assurance.
Sure the little bump after Tobias Henkel had taken Reid back a bit. He had dabbled with the drugs that Henkel had forced upon him. Who could blame him after what he had gone through and so young, so without the tools in the box to combat any such nightmares. All that had to be forgiven, and faster than Morgan had supposed he would, Reid had cleaned up, pulled himself out of it, and grown from it.
But this time. . . this time was different. Reid was more arrogant. He was colder. Morgan had started to think of the Dilaudid as an entity in itself that was trying to take Spencer Reid away, replacing him with someone who slung stinging comments at people he cared about, someone who lied, who disappeared for hours on end, who didn't care about getting a haircut or tucking his shirt in properly. Now Reid was someone whose hands shook during a meeting, his bloodstream in need of that calming narcotic jolt that would never be calming enough. And what were those bruises on the side of his face? Had he fought with some guy on the street? This Reid, the one before him now, was someone that Morgan didn't know.
That was it. Morgan was terrified that the old Reid was slipping away, and he didn't know how he was going to stop it if his young friend was unwilling to offer the least bit of cooperation.
Morgan lay awake until after 3 a.m., listening for the sound of Reid's return. When late night turned to early morning and dawn began to loom, he suddenly thought that something else might be going on. He felt his blood rush cold in his veins as the realization crept over him: Reid was sleeping with Ethan. How he knew it he wasn't sure. The look in Reid's eyes, maybe, as he defended Ethan? The all night long outings? Reid had always spoken about girls, asked questions about girls, crushed on JJ, on that TV-star girl Lila. He had been with Aubrey . . my God he had put a ring on her finger!
No, surely that wasn't it. That was crazy. Reid with Ethan? That way? Morgan glanced at the clock once more. Three fifteen a.m. Then he told himself that Reid would be back in the morning when the team met - he'd see him then - and then finally he allowed his eyes to close.