AN: Alright folks, sorry for the delay. Real life got in the way of bringing you this update this past weekend. However, here it is. Hope you all find it worth the wait!
Reaching the door to the conference room that he had been told Reid was waiting in, Morgan knocked once on the door, wanting to give his young teammate some kind of warning before barging in. He didn't wait for an answer before grasping the brass colored knob and pushing open the door.
Stepping into the room, Morgan found that Reid had taken up position directly across from the door. He also didn't miss the small groan the younger agent admitted on spotting him, despite the kid's attempts to conceal it. Morgan chose not to take offense to the expression; he supposed he'd feel the same way in Reid's place. After all, he and Hudson weren't exactly innocent. They had given the young genius a hard time enough in the past to warrant Reid expecting the same result in this instance.
"So, we heard you needed a lift back to the hotel, Reid," Hudson said as he stepped into the room behind Morgan. There was no trace of humor in the former New York police officer.
"It beats walking in this cold," Reid replied, unwrapping his long fingers from the ceramic mug that had been serving as his anchor during his wait. He got to his feet, reaching for the bag that he didn't have. In an attempt to hide the motion he rubbed his still aching wrist instead.
"You okay, Reid?" Morgan asked, having noticed both actions but choosing only to comment on the second.
"Yeah, fine," Reid said as he stopped rubbing his wrist.
"Did they hurt you?" Hudson asked from behind Morgan, having also taken notice of his youngest teammate's action. He knew from experience that sometimes you had to use a little force with resistive suspects but Hudson also knew that Reid wouldn't have been resistive.
"I'm fine, really," Reid replied, surprised and touched at the protective tone in Hudson's voice but also not wanting either of his teammates to cause a scene. All the young genius wanted to do was to put this police station and the whole ordeal as far behind him as possible. "Can we go?"
"Where's your coat?" Morgan asked.
"Back at the bar," Reid replied, as he walked around the end of the table and toward where his two teammates were standing. ~Along with my bag, badge, cell phone and my dignity, ~ he added silently.
Slipping off his leather coat, Morgan placed it over Reid's shoulders. There was no way he was going to let his younger teammate walk out into the cold night without a coat knowing how much Reid hated the cold to begin with.
"Thanks," Reid replied, slipping his arms into the way too big coat for the second time in his short FBI career. Too big or not at least it was warm and soon he would be away from this place and back at the hotel, his home away from home.
Just then he remembered April. She didn't belong in a jail cell anymore than he did. In fact, it was probably his fault that she was in a jail cell tonight. If she hadn't been answering his questions, and trying to help out with the case, then she wouldn't have been in that backroom tonight.
"Hold on. I can't leave yet."
Reid's statement had both of his teammates looking at him questionably.
"This waitress from the bar, was answering questions for me. She's the one that took me to the backroom, where our victim supposedly worked out of from time to time. I probably won't be taken much more seriously now by the police here than I was in the bar, but I need to at least try to get them to let her go."
"If she knew what was going on in the backroom than she must have used it a time or two herself," Morgan reasoned.
"That's not the point. She wasn't supposed to be back there tonight," Reid told him.
"I'm all for doing whatever I can to protect an informant," Hudson said in support of Reid. Given the current situation though, Hudson shared Reid's assessment that the younger agent still wouldn't be taken too seriously by the cops in the station though. "Let me go see what I can do. What's her name?"
"April."
"Just April."
Reid felt warmth growing in his cheeks at the question. At the time he hadn't seen the need to get the waitress' last name. "That's all I know," Reid replied and then proceeded to give Hudson a description of the Pale Dog Tavern waitress.
"Alright," Hudson said, feeling that the first name and description should be enough. "Let me go figure out who I need to talk to."
Morgan nodded. "We'll wait for you out in the car," the dark-skinned profiler replied, as he draped an arm across Reid's shoulders. As much as Reid wanted to try to protect the waitress that had been answering questions for him, Morgan wanted to try sheltering his younger teammate. Right now, his instinct was to get Reid out of what he considered hostile territory, as quickly as possible. "Come on, Pretty Boy, let's get you out of here," the Chicago native said.
As he let himself be led out of the conference room, Reid took notice of the new nickname but didn't let it bother him. After all, it wasn't the first nickname one of his teammates had given him nor did he hear any malicious intent in the tone of Morgan's voice. He did however hope that it wouldn't become a popular one with his older teammate, as he definitely preferred Kid over Pretty Boy.
It was nearing eleven o'clock before Agent Aaron Hotchner pulled the black SUV he was driving into an empty parking lot next to one of its twins. He wasn't sure if the information he had gathered tonight would help them with their case or not, but at least it gave them another avenue to explore. Detective Ortiz had been most helpful in securing the footage from The Pale Dog Tavern's security cameras for the BAU's use. Though the bar owner's organization skills appeared to be abysmal, it appeared as though he kept tapes for at least a couple of weeks before getting rid of them. With any luck, Nichols would be able to find Mindy on the tapes and they could see if she had left the bar by conventional means on the night of her death and if she was with anyone.
Grabbing the bag with the security tapes, Reid's coat and messenger bag, Hotch climbed from the SUV and locked it. A quick glance around the parking lot told him that all his teammates were back at the hotel as the third FBI issued SUV was parked a couple spots away. Striding across the moonlit parking lot, Hotch entered the hotel via a side door and headed up to the fifth floor where their rooms were located.
As his route lead him past his room before reaching Reid's room, Hotch made a brief stop to drop off the security tapes. Then, walking the short distance down the hall, the former prosecutor was knocking on the door to Reid's room.
It didn't take long for Reid to answer the door and Hotch noted that the younger profiler was still dressed, which led him to believe that Reid hadn't gone to sleep yet.
"I thought I'd drop off your stuff before I retired for the night," Hotch said, scrutinizing the younger man as he did. Though Morgan had called to say Reid seemed to be okay except for a sore left wrist, Hotch wanted to make his own assessment on the young agent's frame of mind.
"I appreciate it," Reid replied, reaching out to take the bag and coat from Hotch.
"Can I come in for a few minutes?" Hotch asked, figuring that it wasn't very likely that Reid would invite him into the room on his own.
Reid nodded, and stepped to the side, allowing his mentor access into the room. Hotch walked into the hotel room automatically taking note of his surroundings. The chair at the desk was pulled out. On the desk, a pen sat abandoned on top of a single sheet of paper. Hotch could see Reid's small, neat handwriting already covering a good portion of the white surface already. A glance in the direction of the bed showed that it was still expertly made, meaning that Hotch assumption that Reid had yet to retire for the night was accurate.
"I'm really sorry, sir" Reid said as he pushed the door shut behind him and turned to face Hotch. He had been hoping that his training agent would wait until the morning for the lecture but in a way was relieved to just be getting it out of the way. "I know I should have my badge on me at all times, and leaving my bag in the booth was inexcusable. It won't happen again," he said in a rush.
"Reid, have a seat," Hotch said calmly, motioning toward the unruffled bed. It was clear to him that Reid had already convinced himself that what had transpired tonight was his fault. From what Reynolds had relayed to Detective Ortiz and himself, most of the blame for tonight's false arrest rested on Smith's shoulder. If the Kansas City officer had simply followed up on Reid's claim that the bag was in the main part of the bar or had even made an attempt to locate himself, then the confusion could have been cleared up much quicker and without the false arrest.
Doing as he was told, Reid moved toward the bed. Sitting down, the young genius perched stiffly on the edge of the bed as he placed his bag and coat down beside him.
Not wanting to be towering over Reid as he spoke, Hotch grabbed the desk chair and turned it around. "Yes, you made a mistake with forgetting your bag in the booth when you followed the waitress to the back room," Hotch began as he sat down in the chair. "But it's a mistake that any of us could have made," the veteran profiler said, his tone softer than his normal stern work mode voice. It was his job to mold the young genius into a veteran agent, not make him feel like a failutre. "We're human, not machines. We forget things from time to time. However, you're not the only one that made a mistake tonight. Officer Smith didn't follow proper procedures, and as your training agent, I should've been keeping a closer eye on you."
Hotch paused, giving his words some time to sink in, before continuing.
"Besides, I didn't come here tonight to reprimand you. I came by to make sure you're doing okay."
"I'm fine, sir," Reid replied, surprised by the turn of events, having fully expected a reprimand for his performance tonight. "Yes, I feel humiliated about getting arrested, but it's certainly not the first time I've felt this way. I'll be fine."
"And the wrist?"
Reid glanced down at his slightly aching wrist. He didn't remember rubbing it or favoring it in anyway that would give away that it was bothering him. That left only one possible scenario. "You've already talked to Morgan then."
"He called me once you guys got back to the hotel to give me an update on the situation," Hotch confirmed.
"It still aches, but it'll be fine."
"I think we'll let a doctor make that determination," Hotch replied.
Reynolds had mentioned that he thought Smith had been too rough when he made the arrest. Detective Ortiz had offered to add that charge into the official reprimand he planned on filing against Smith for the false arrest. Hotch had told the local detective to hold off on that charge until he had spoken to Reid. Now that he had Reid's confirmation that his wrist was bothering him, Hotch was determined to make sure the injury was nothing serious. If it was, then he planned on making sure appropriate disciplinary action was taken against Smith, given that Reynolds had already stated that Reid had been completely cooperative through the entire ordeal. However, if it was nothing, as Reid was trying to maintain, then perhaps letting it go would be best in an effort not to make an already tense inter-agency situation worse.
"There's a medical center nearby. We'll stop by first thing in the morning and have them examine the wrist."
"It's really not necessary," Reid protested.
"It's a work related injury that should be followed up on. I'm sure I can have Gideon make it official if you'd like."
Reid shook his head. "There's no need for that, sir," the young genius acquiesced. It was exactly the response that Hotch had anticipated.
"Okay, then. I'll see you in the morning," Hotch said, standing up and taking a step toward the door.
Reid's "yes, sir" was barely audible as Hotch moved toward the door and let himself out of the room, hoping that he had done enough to convince Reid that the events of the night were not his fault. Something like this was exactly the last thing that the nervous young agent needed.
Just like when he came into the office in the morning, Gideon wasn't surprised to find that he was the only member of the BAU team in the lobby when he entered the following morning. As the hands of the clock just reading only seven twenty three, the veteran profiler was not worried about the absence of his agents. He was confident that Nichols, Morgan and Hudson would find their way down to the lobby by eight a.m. as instructed. As for Hotch and Reid, Gideon had already spoken to Hotch and knew that the last two agents of the team would be joining them at the police station after Reid saw a doctor.
Like the others, Gideon was angered by the treatment Reid had received. The fact that Reid wouldn't be taken seriously by the officers in the jurisdictions that their cases took them to had been a concern of his when he had requested Reid's appointment to the team. What he hadn't anticipated was the scenario that had taken place last night. Still, Gideon also saw opportunity in the whole incident. If Erin Strauss wanted an example of the need for a media liaison then he would be happy to give her just that.
Crossing the lobby, Jason Gideon selected a chair in front of the hotel's gas fireplace where he would easily be spotted by the other agents when they found their way to the lobby. Placing the bag of security tapes that Hotch had dropped off before heading to the medical center on the floor next the chair, Gideon sat down. Settling back in the chair, Gideon flipped his newspaper open to the crossword puzzle and began working on the word exercise. Despite everything ahead of him that needed to be done, Gideon had learned that even a short period of time devoted to a crossword puzzle helped him to focus for the rest of the day.
As the blank boxes became occupied with letters, Gideon was still aware of the movement around him as the lobby became busier. He had just finished filling in another answer when he noticed the footsteps walking toward his area of the lobby. Lifting his head, he glanced over his shoulder and saw Nichols, computer bag securely over his left shoulder, making his way toward him.
"Morning boss," the team's computer specialist said easily.
"Morning, Nichols," Gideon replied, casting a glance at his watch. He had been working on the crossword for about twenty minutes, which meant that Morgan and Hudson still had fifteen minutes to make an appearance. "Hotch brought homework back for you," Gideon said easily, motioning with his pen to the bag at his feet. "Security tapes from the Pale Dog Tavern. With Mindy's death being so recent, hopefully the footage from that day is in the collection of tapes the local police pulled from the building. Unfortunately, the tavern's owner wasn't the best record keeper and the tapes aren't labeled."
"Oh joy," Nichols commented as he plopped down in the chair next to Gideon. "Guess I know what I'm going to be doing today."
"I also want you on hand for the press conference later this morning," Gideon said, referring to the press conference that had been arranged at the end of yesterday's with the intent on giving regular updates on the case to keep the media from wild speculation. Though they really didn't have much new information to give, Gideon planned on this press conference to create quite a media buzz. As Nichols was probably the most diplomatic agent on the team, the veteran profiler was counting on the computer specialist to be able to smooth things over a bit even without any warning of what he was planning. "Franklin and I have agreed to give the media at least daily updates about the case."
"Sure thing, Boss," Nichols replied, silently questioning Gideon's inclusion of him in the press conference but not giving voice to those questions. The computer specialist had worked with the senior agent long enough to know that Gideon seldom made any decision without having some plan already figured out, even if it was something as mundane as a press conference. However, his years of working with Gideon had taught him to trust the older agent's judgement even if he didn't always understand his way of thinking. "Have you seen Reid at all?" Nichols ask, choosing to change the topic.
Gideon shook his head. "I only talked to Hotch this morning. He and Reid will meet us at the station later after Reid gets his wrist checked out at the medical center."
Nichols nodded his acknowledgment of the statement. "I guess that explains why there was no answer when I knocked on Junior's door on my way down."
Before either Nichols or Gideon could say anything else a new voice chimed in.
"Are you guys enjoying a little morning fire side chat?" Morgan asked as he approached the fireplace, Hudson only a few steps behind him.
"Yes," Nichols replied immediately. "And if you weren't such a sloth then you could have enjoyed a few relaxing moments yourself."
"Personally, I'd rather be curled up in my bed for a few extra minutes than sitting by a fire any day," Morgan replied.
"Unless there is a beautiful woman involved," Hudson quipped, as he and Morgan came to a stop behind the chairs that their fellow agents were occupying.
"I'd still rather be in the bed than beside a fireplace, even if said fireplace has a bearskin rug," Morgan answered without missing a beat.
"And now we're entering the realm of mental images that I do not need no matter what time of day it is," Nichols answered. "What time is it, anyway?"
Gideon tilted his wrist so that he could read his watch. "Seven fifty-one," he answered, even as he sat up straight in the chair. "However, since we're all here, we might as well head over to the station."
"What about Hotch and Reid?" Morgan asked.
"They'll be joining us after Reid gets his wrist checked out," Gideon replied, putting his pen behind his ear, tucking the paper under one arm and grabbing the bag of security tapes as he got to his feet.
Without another word the four federal agents headed across the lobby and toward the two SUV's waiting for them in the hotel parking lot.
