I love Criminal Minds, I live Criminal Minds, Criminal Minds rides bitch on my bike, but sadly, I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters.
And now, chapter 7 . . .
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"It's not fair! No one asked me what I wanted," Reid thought as he resentfully knocked the medicine bottles, tweezers and toenail clippers off the bathroom shelf. Of course, all he really wanted right now was one last hit of dilaudid. If he had that, going to Hotch's place wouldn't seem so overwhelming. Not a lot, he thought, just enough to numb him up a bit. He was afraid Hotch was going to yell at him like he probably wanted to on the jet, and he just didn't want to deal with that right now.
Quietly sliding the window open, Reid made his decision. Morgan would be angry with him, but if he could get his hands on his drug before the older agent got his hands on Reid, it wouldn't matter as much. He slid out the window and quickly started his decent. A couple of raindrops hit his arm, and he reconsidered his decision. He hadn't brought a jacket, but if he hurried maybe he could avoid the rain altogether. Quickening his pace, Reid dropped the last few feet to the street below. Turning right, he started running in the direction he knew would take him to his source. Reaching the corner, he looked back, and finding no signs of being followed, he slowed a bit. It wouldn't take Morgan long to realize he was gone. Taking the alleys might be a bit more dangerous, but he could stay well hidden along the way. Jogging to the next alleyway over, he dove into the relative darkness.
Traversing the first two blocks was uneventful, but now he was nearing a more sordid area of town. Slowing to a walk now, Reid turned at every noise and continued to scan the surrounding dark corners. Alleys may provide more hiding opportunities for him, but they also provided for those with ill intent. As he was beginning to think this was a bad idea, something crashed loudly behind him. He spun around to find three dark figures emerging from the shadows. His hand automatically went to his gun, only to find it missing. Reid winced thinking that if he got out of this alive, Morgan was going to completely obliterate him for forgetting his sidearm.
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Hitting the ground floor, Morgan scanned the empty street in front of him. Several drops of the impending rain storm hastened his steps to his truck. Throwing the duffel into the back seat, he considered which direction to start looking. One direction would take him toward at residential part of town; the other took him to a rather seedy area. Knowing this kid, that was the direction to follow.
Making a wide u-turn, he gunned the truck down the road. He was as angry as a wet cat, but he knew he had to stow his emotions for now if he was going to find Reid. He pulled out his phone and dialed the kid's number. As the phone continued to ring, Morgan willed Reid to come to his senses and answer. When he got the automated message, he slammed the phone shut and cursed under his breath.
He had to think like his friend if he was going to find him quickly. Why had he run off? He was frightened of staying with Hotch, but Morgan wondered if he would really run out in an impending rainstorm at midnight to avoid that. Where would he go? Morgan suspected Reid was either using dilaudid again, or he was seriously considering it. He was certain the kid could find it in this part of town, and he probably knew right where to go. If he was still on foot, he couldn't have gotten far, but he knew Morgan would be driving. How would he hide himself? There were no businesses open on this street or the next two. Morgan turned the corner thinking the kid probably couldn't have gotten much further than three blocks away by now. With no sign of him, Morgan realized the his friend had probably decided the back alleys would hide him better. He was going to kill him.
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Arriving at his apartment, Hotch immediately began unloading his groceries. His pantry and refrigerator were bare, and while it was fine for him to order in when he was home, it didn't seem right to treat a houseguest this way. He actually enjoyed cooking, but cooking for one was never exciting. It would be good to get back into the kitchen again. Hotch had started a habit recently of flipping the television on as soon as he walked in the door. It helped to push away the intense silence of his lonely dwelling. He smiled ironically when the television came on to the cooking channel. He'd forgotten he had been watching this before he left for the latest assignment. His favorite, Alton Brown, happened to be on at the moment.
He'd gotten about half of his purchases put away when his cell rang. Looking at the caller ID, he answered, "Morgan. What's up?" The younger agent was controlled, yet clearly angry. As Hotch listened to how Reid had run away, the headache slowly returned. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to calm down, "Do you need me to come help look for him?" Morgan told him if he couldn't find the kid in the next half hour, he'd call Hotch for backup, "Thanks, Morgan. Keep me updated."
Hotch looked out at the rain-soaked night. What did that kid think he was doing? Couldn't he see they were trying to help him? A feeling of dread slowly crept up his spine. What if Reid needed more help than he or Morgan could offer?
No, Reid simply hadn't figured it out yet. Hotch decided he still needed to give his plan a chance to work. If after a week the kid was still acting like this, he would have to consider an alternative.
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As the dark shadows drew closer Reid ascertained these were young adults, younger than himself, but much larger, and probably members of a local gang. They'd want money and anything else of value he might be carrying. There was also a distinct probability of some physical violence. Reid knew homicide was unlikely given the statistics related to teen and young adult violence, but he also knew that aggravated assault topped the list of crimes most often committed by this population. Not a pleasant alternative.
Thunder cracked loudly above, and the rain began in earnest. Seemingly not noticing the weather change, the largest of the three stepped to the front and sneered, "Where d'you think you're goin', jackoff?" There was a flash of metal where his hand should be.
Reid slowly back away until his back hit something solid. From the cold feel and the hollow sound it made when he hit, it was almost certainly a dumpster. He didn't dare turn around to see. There was nowhere else to go, so he began to ramble. It had been his tried and true method of self-preservation since he was a child. Most of the time it worked, and he really had no other choice at the moment. He could hear his mouth moving and saw the bewildered looks on his attackers' faces. What was he even talking about? Something out of a textbook he'd read years ago, ". . . and according to one longitudinal study young men who engage in this kind of activity have 30 percent more chance of being depressed as adults . . . " He could hear his vocal range rising and his rate of speech speed up, but there was nothing he could do about it. ". . .and, and furthermore they're 70 percent more likely to suffer multiple divorces and financial problems later in life. . ." The biggest man started to move in on him again, ". . . but, but, but it's not their fault!" Reid's hands were held up in front of him in a placating manner. "Most parents don't know how to help angry children . . . " The pain he felt on the side of his face didn't even register until he hit the ground. When he felt a heavy boot burry itself in his liver, he folded in on himself trying to protect what vital organs he could.
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Morgan wished he had some idea where Reid would find dilaudid around here. It would make finding him so much easier. As it was he was having to slowly troll as many alleyways as he could, as quickly as possible, in hopes that he was correct about Reid's path. As the rain began to pour down, he glanced down a particularly dark and narrow alley. Slowing down to take a closer look, he saw a few people gathered together, but he couldn't see what they were doing. He estimated the width of his truck would make negotiating this confined space difficult, so he pulled over and quietly moved in.
Listening carefully, he could hear someone talking very quickly. As he approached, he recognized that voice as Reid's. He was talking very fast. Not a good sign. Morgan continued to listen considering letting the kid try and talk his way out of whatever it was he'd gotten himself into. He had seen Reid successful at this before, but something told him the young man was too nervous for it to work this time. That's when he heard the loud smack and something hitting the ground hard. Morgan set out at a run, pulling his gun. "Hey! That's enough!" he yelled. The boys saw this imposing man running toward them, gun raised, and took off in the other direction. Any other time Morgan would be frustrated at the loss of an arrest, but now he was only interested in making sure Reid was safe.
Finding a crumpled mess curled up at the base of a dumpster, he knelt down and placed his hand on Reid's head, "You okay, kid? Come on. Open your eyes and look at me."
"Morgan?" Reid's eyes struggled to open. When he saw his friend's concerned face hovering above him, he fought to sit up. "I – I'm fine" he croaked.
The kid most certainly wasn't fine, but nothing seemed to be broken, and if he wasn't going to be honest with Morgan, the older man was going to give him what he deserved. He grabbed Reid's upper arms and hauled him to his feet. His rain-soaked hair and clothes made him look like a drowned rat. Morgan took hold of one arm, perhaps gripping a bit harder than necessary, and headed toward his waiting truck.
Reid was startled by the rough treatment, but moved his feet fearing Morgan might rip his arm off if he didn't follow. " . . . ahh, oww! Morgan, you're hurting me."
Reaching his truck, Morgan turned on the young man, "Yeah, and if you ever run away on me like that again, I'm going to hurt a whole lot more of you than this! Get in the truck." He opened the door, helped Reid in and shut the door. Jogging to the driver's side, he jumped in, started the engine and started driving to Hotch's apartment. He was livid! This was one of the rare times Morgan actually raised his voice, "Reid, running away, not answering your phone when I call, and putting yourself into that kind of danger is completely unacceptable! What if I hadn't found you when I did? Those kids were out for blood, or worse! And where were you going anyway? Are you using again, Man? If I find out you are . . . " He glanced over to find his young friend back in that familiar position, arms wrapped tightly around his midsection, but now the wet hair on his hanging head streamed rivulets of water into his lap. He was clearly sobbing, but putting forth a valiant effort to hide that fact. He was also shivering uncontrollably and hadn't even managed to get his seatbelt on yet. Morgan's heart melted and he felt immediately guilty that he hadn't taken better care of his friend's needs before tearing into him. As soon as it was safe he pulled his truck over, reached into the seat behind him and pulled out an emergency wool blanket. Cranking up the heater on the truck, he draped the blanket over his hurting friend and tucked the edges in around him to reduce heat loss. "Hey, look at me" He said gently, "You're going to be okay. You understand me?"
Reid couldn't really meet his friend's eye, but he nodded his understanding as he sniffled quietly. Morgan reached over, pulled the seatbelt across the young man and latched it in place. He started the truck up, put a gentle hand on Reid's exposed neck, and started toward Hotch's again. He didn't break physical contact with the kid throughout the drive except to make a quick phone call to their boss and fill him in on what had transpired. Reid was grateful and he felt calmer knowing Morgan was there and going to take care of him.
