This is a bit of a filler chapter, but, trust me, there's some definite plot movement coming up. Thanks for all the insightful reviews and adds. I really appreciate it. :)
"My words confuse you. My eyes don't move a blink cause it's easier sometimes not to be sincere. Somehow, I make you believe. When I speak, I cross my fingers. Will you know you've been deceived? I find the need to be the demon. A demon cannot be hurt."-Guster "Demons
The room given to them by the town's police department was small, and Reid set up on a tiny wooden table while Garcia tapped away in the corner closest to the window. Reid was glad the team had left him behind. After the scene in the graveyard, didn't feel like being around people much, and he counted on the geographical profile to distract him. He could tell his body was fighting withdrawals by the way his hands shook and his stomach made him double over in pain. You're not that addicted, are you? He asked himself, knowing the answer anyway.
"You alright?" Garcia had heard Reid's groan before she turned away from her computer screen to face him. She was surprised to see him bent over, clutching his stomach, with a slight tinge of green outlining his thin features. Although she wasn't close to Reid, she could see the beads of sweat sliding down his face. The room was heavily air conditioned, and she knew he must not be feeling well if he was hot. She had been so cold that she had on a sweater only suitable for the dead of winter.
"Reid, you're burning up." Reid registered that it was her cold hands on his clammy skin. He recoiled from her touch, but didn't push her away because her fingertips felt soothing against his hot cheek.
"I told you," he stomach surged again and, for a moment, he wondered if he'd be sick. "I don't feel well."
"Ok, well let's see if I can help you out." Reid was too tired to protest, and he slumped into a vacant chair. He watched Garcia march out of the room into the area buzzing with the town's police officers. Through the window that separated their room from the main one, he saw her speak to one of the officers, occasionally gesturing his way with bright fingernails. The officer nodded, said something he couldn't hear, and he and Garcia disappeared from view. When she returned, she was holding a tall glass of water and a bottle of Dayquil.
"This is all I could find, boy genius." He gave her a small smile.
"Thanks, Garcia." Reid tried to make his voice appear genuine, but he wondered if she could hear the lie etched within. He took the Dayquil, swallowing two capfuls with the glass of water.
"Officer Larkin said you could have that," she remarked, sitting down at her computer once again. Reid nodded and, when she left a half hour later to go to the bathroom, he drank half of the bottle. If only she knew, he thought to himself for the second time that day.
After the a while, the drugs took hold and he felt well enough to continue his work. Once or twice, he felt Garcia watching him with concern. Reid tried to shake the feeling that he was actually the one under investigation. Maybe if you can figure this out, his brain began. Then you can make up for those stupid scenes on the plane and in the cemetery. With this determination, Reid dove into his work.
The day enveloped him in a haze. Trying to develop a geographical profile seemed as foreign to him as having a conversation with a pretty woman. The lines and red dots blurred together, mixing into the barrel of a gun that was pointed directly at his forehead. "Choose." The voice beckoned. Reid realized he finally knew what his mother dealt with on a daily basis.
"Reid, why don't you take a break?" Garcia suggest for the third time in an hour after Reid had sworn loudly at the scattered dots. She didn't like that Reid looked unwell and although it seemed like the medicine had helped, his hands were still shaking and his face was still pale and accented with faint traces of green.
"I'm fine, Garcia."
"You-"
"Look, I can't think ok? I have to do my job and if you don't shut up, I can't do it." Reid immediately regretted his words and his second outburst of the day, but he turned away from Garcia's shocked eyes. Garcia stared at Reid's back in disbelief.
"Hey, Baby Girl," Morgan pulled her aside while the team prepared to part ways.
"Yes, Sugar?" She asked, batting her eyelashes shamelessly. For once, Morgan didn't smile at her antics.
"Reid's not feeling well…" He stole a glance at the detective and Garcia nodded. "Can you keep me updated on how he is today? You're going to be the only one with him."
"Like Hotch asked us to do?" Morgan nodded.
"Yeah, like that." Garcia stared at her purse. She didn't like playing spy, especially on a coworker, but Morgan always had good reasons for asking her to do things. Reid had been acting weird too. So much so that both Hotch and Morgan had addressed their concern. Resolute, she looked up from her clutch.
"Sure thing, sweet cheeks." This time, Morgan smiled briefly before turning away.
Garcia thought about her earlier conversation with Morgan. She had felt that something was off, but now, with Reid's sudden outburst, her mind began to place the pieces together. He had been late to work, jumpy, sickly, and apparently irritable. Hotch had addressed the team about Reid before they left. Morgan wanted her to keep an eye on him when he couldn't? She watched Reid for a moment as he shook his head and yanked a few pins off the cork board. Strays pinged off the floor and she heard him mumble another swear under his breath. He couldn't do his work? Since when did his brilliant mind fail? Garcia herself had seen him think and find results under dire instances. This isn't adding up, she thought to herself. Something isn't right. Garcia waited until Reid barged out of the room to pick up her phone to text Morgan about the day's events. Clearly, something was very wrong.
When the board in front of him swam together in a jumble of colors, he had let out a frustrated sound and exited the room, stomping around the building until he found a full, newly brewed coffee pot. With the medicine almost out of his system, Reid figured an upper would help. The caffeine only added to his agitation and by the time the rest of the weary, frustrated team returned, Reid felt as though he wanted to crawl out of his skin. Every pore was on fire, his face felt flushed, and he knew he looked as crazed and manic as some of the killers they encountered.
"This case is one dead end after another," Morgan complained aloud, throwing himself into the nearest chair. Rubbing his tired eyes, he glanced at Reid, who was fidgeting worse than he had on the plane. After the incident in the graveyard, Garcia had been his eyes all day, texting him with updates on Reid's behavior and his, apparently, his rude comments. Morgan felt too exhausted to conceal the fact that he was studying what appeared to be a very restless Spencer Reid.
"All I want to do is shower…" Prentiss told no one in particular as she shuddered. "That unsub may have had the dirtiest home I have ever seen."
"Amen to that," Gideon agreed. He watched Reid shiver and pull his arms around himself.
"The media hasn't released much other than the basics," JJ told everyone. "The press conference was basically a repeat."
"Any leads come from it?" Hotch asked her. JJ shook her head.
"No. The town's people are angry that we haven't found much else than their town police." The team sat in silence for a moment, letting the facts sink in.
"How'd the profile go, Reid?" Hotch turned towards his youngest agent, who, he noted, looked worse than he had earlier. He was pure white, shaking, and sweating to the extent that dark spots were visible on the collar of his shirt. Maybe he really is sick, Hotch thought.
"Not well. This unsub is hard to track." Reid did not meet Hotch's eyes, or anyone else's for that matter. In other circumstances, Reid figured he could decode the geographical profile, but with withdrawals setting in, he had been unable to focus. On the board behind Reid, the geographical profile looked disorganized, chaotic, and unfinished. It was unlike Reid's work to be one, never mind all, of those things. Across, the room, Hotch had noticed too, and he caught Morgan's stare for a few moments before turning towards Garcia.
"How about the system?" Hotch turned to Garcia. She nodded no.
"This is one of the most complex systems I've ever seen." The team was silent once more until Hotch spoke.
"Let's call it a night. There's really nothing we can do. Everyone get some food and some rest, and we'll try again around 7 A.M." Hotch rarely admitted defeat, but until the DNA results came back from the lab, they were stuck. He hoped a good night's rest would be the break they needed.
"Come on, Spence. You're really going to turn down dinner with three women?" JJ taunted. Once at the hotel, the team had parted ways: Hotch had disappeared into his room, Gideon into an internet café, and Morgan mumbled something about the gym. For a moment, Reid had considered saying yes to dining with his female coworkers. The smells wafting into the lobby from the hotel's restaurant seemed inviting, but he wasn't hungry.
"Sorry, JJ. I'm pretty tired. The geographical profile wiped me out." Around him, the hotel seemed to be a cacophony of noise. Reid took a deep breath in order to focus on his coworkers standing in front of him. All he could hear was the screeching classical music playing in the elevator lobby, the loud ding of the elevator button, and the sounds of conversation floating in from the restaurant directly in front of him.
"You sure?" She asked again. Reid nodded, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.
"Alright, girl's night out it is then." She said, turning towards Prentiss and Garcia, who hesitated like she wanted to say something before leaving him between two large potted plants and a display of travel brochures. Reid remembered how he snapped at her and the thought alone almost made him reach out and offer her an apology; instead, he watched their profiles disappear into the restaurant's dimly lit entrance before heading to his own room with a quickening pace that was only slowed once he saw the bar. Hell, he could have one drink, right?
