"Hey, Hotch…I've got some really cool stuff for you guys. Might help explain what you've been…"
Reid's chatter faded when confronted by the inexplicably mournful expression gracing his leader's haggard features. "Hotch? You okay?"
The pure innocence and concern in the young genius's wide, amber eyes entered the Unit Chief's heart like a key, unlocking the heavy door he guarded like…like a dog. Like a dog who bares his fangs at anyone who gets too close. Hotch deflated; shoulders slumping, chest caving.
"Hotch?" Reid abandoned his laptop and stood, alarmed at his boss's demeanor. Taking the older man's arm, he coaxed him into a chair. "What's wrong? You don't look so good."
"I'm fine…I'm…" Aaron's glance fell on Prentiss, and lingered. She gave a small, encouraging nod. He closed his eyes and tried to find a different kind of strength; a kind he hadn't used before. "I'm not okay. I'm…not…I'm sorry…I'm not."
It felt like such a momentous admission that Hotch was surprised when there were no gasps of disbelief, no clap of thunder, no cosmic realignment. Instead, when he dared to look around at his colleagues there was only Reid's warm concern, and J.J.'s worried frown, and Garcia's bespectacled blinking…and what he was almost certain was Prentiss's look of pride. As though he'd done a good thing. As though admitting one's weakness didn't make him less of a leader.
Hotch was endlessly grateful when Emily's firm voice interjected, "He hasn't had any decent sleep for a couple of days. Give him a break."
Reid resumed his seat, head cocked to one side as he considered his boss. "Do you maybe wanna wait to hear what I think is going on with you guys? Maybe get some sleep first?"
Hotch squinted at his youngest agent. "Wha'd'you mean 'going on with' us?"
Reid took it as permission to pick up where he'd left off. Enthusiasm infused his voice. "Well, like I was saying, I knew something happened with you guys when you went hiking." He gave Hotch a sidelong look. "And I knew it was a lot harder on you than on Prentiss."
The Unit Chief stared, brow furrowed. "Why…what…"
"Hotch…" Emily drew her boss's focus. When she caught it, she executed a small, wry shrug. "Profilers…you know?" She felt amply rewarded by Aaron's faint grimace that might have been the beginning of an aborted smile.
Reid was oblivious to the undercurrents swirling about him. He continued, savoring the pleasure of sharing his knowledge. "Like I said, the initial concept is difficult to accept. Impossible, really, in the light of current evolutionary theory, and just…well…common sense." He flashed a semi-apologetic look at both Hotch and Prentiss. "But if you guys went back to Madame Sobrani again, that means you're both halfway up that path of believing that there's something…something avian in your genetic background, Emily. And, Hotch…" Reid took a deep breath and fixed his leader with a level stare. "…by the same token, there's something canine in yours."
Aaron could feel the eyes of his co-workers on him. All he could do was remind himself to breathe. He felt as though he'd been ripped open and his internal workings were being offered up for examination. He felt monstrous. What had that fortuneteller called him? A beast. He felt like a beast among them.
He also felt relieved.
XXXXXXXXXX
Morgan hesitated in the dining room doorway.
He hadn't known when the others were planning on eating. He'd slept himself out and thought maybe he'd wander around the city on his own, if they were still grounded. He was getting bored and antsy and wouldn't mind some alone-time right about now.
But his professional skills read the postures of his colleagues around the table, and a small, inexplicable alarm began to sound deep in his gut. Something was going on. Something not good. And by the avid expression on Baby Girl's face and Pretty Boy's intensity, Morgan had a hunch it was more of that weird, paranormal stuff he found ridiculous. It's for the gullible and the naïve and the credulous. Which pretty much sums up a lot of Garcia's and Reid's personalities. And a lot of what I love about them…
He decided the best way to approach the situation, was to bulldoze his way in and dowse them all with a bucket of normalcy. Then he could probably find a way to either defuse or derail the lunacy.
XXXXXXXXXXX
Reid was verging on becoming tongue-tied. He wanted to rope his audience in and get them as excited as he was when broaching new theories. To that end, his speech was speeding up, making him stumble and stutter with zeal.
"If you accept the basic premise, then…then y-you can actually tie in the biological evolution…"
"HEY, Bossman! We goin' home today?" Morgan's stentorian voice drowned out Reid's. His large, meaty hands descended on Hotch's shoulders, giving an affectionate, rough shake before he slid into the empty chair between his leader and J.J. "Gotta say, man, I'm ready to get back to the grind, ya know?" He picked up a menu. Leaning back, he scanned the offerings.
An awkward pause ensued. Everyone knew Morgan wasn't a fan of the supernatural in general, and Madame Sobrani in particular. As usual, J.J. bridged the silent gap before it could become a chasm.
"Spence was just filling us in on some stuff."
"Stuff?" Derek caught a waiter's eye, signaling his readiness to order. "So long as it's not anything to do with that former-life scam artist…"
"Morgan! Shut up!" Prentiss snapped. She regretted whenever she lost control, but she wasn't going to stand for anyone…even one of her closest friends…blindsiding a discussion that was important to both her and their Unit Chief. She confronted Derek's look of surprise. "If you'd even bothered to look at Hotch you'd see he's not doing so well…"
Morgan hadn't really looked at their leader. He'd noticed a lot of tension in the shoulders he'd given a brief squeeze, but hadn't looked the man in the eye. He did so now, and the small, internal alarm that had surfaced earlier ramped up a few notches. Hotch's pallor made the violet shadows under his eyes look almost black. It was more than fatigue. It was the physical aggregate of worry, sorrow, and despair with touches of fear, shame and embarrassment. He realized Prentiss was still speaking…
"…and I've got a few things on my plate that need answers. If Reid has some or can even point us in a vaguely right direction to find some, then I wanna hear him out. If you can't stomach it, then sit somewhere else." Emily's dark eyes sparked, boring into Morgan, a beloved, but currently unwelcome adversary.
Derek backed off a mere fraction out of respect for Prentiss. On the other hand, he had absolutely no respect for the arena in which Madame Sobrani played. "Oh, man…you guys really are taking that old lady's lies seriously?" He gave Hotch another concerned inspection. "Look, Bossman, if you need help with something, you know I'll go to the mat for you. We all will. But don't let some fraud mentalist get under your skin." Morgan glanced around the dining room, wishing Rossi would make an appearance. If anyone knew how to handle Hotch, it was their senior agent.
"Derek, you don't even know what's going on. Please don't assume there's an easy fix until you know the details, okay?" Prentiss's voice had lowered. She was trying reason instead of an angry attack.
The thing is, it made sense. Morgan sighed. "Okay. Fill me in. I'm on your side…remember? Just wanna be sure you're not…you know…" He shrugged, deciding listening was the best option right now.
Hotch was still clearly dealing with inner turmoil, so Emily nodded. "I'll tell you my side of it, but, Hotch might have some stuff to add." She sought her boss's focus, making sure he knew she wasn't pushing…just encouraging, just being supportive. It was enough for the moment when Aaron met her eyes and didn't cringe.
"Okay." Prentiss nodded. "I already told J.J. and Garcia most of it, but…here goes…"
XXXXXXXXXXX
It didn't take as long as she'd thought it would. And reactions were reassuringly predictable.
Penelope practically shimmered with excitement.
J.J.'s calm regard never wavered.
Reid looked ready to burst if he didn't get a chance to talk soon. Apparently everything Prentiss and a very halting, reluctant Hotch had said only served to solidify his belief in whatever theories had been fulminating in his exceptional brain.
And Morgan was skeptical, uncomfortable, but mostly very, very worried. He was hearing wild-eyed fairytales from two of the most level-headed, logical, reliable people he knew. He hated it. He was reaching his limit and felt he needed backup; needed someone who also had a negative take on all things paranormal.
Rossi had gone down that path on a case long ago. He'd listened to a psychic, thinking it wouldn't do any harm. It had. Rossi never forgot, and never forgave himself for being gullible. So when Garcia said it was her turn and wanted to take them through her cave paintings and genealogy of bird names, Morgan raised his hand.
"Guys, I'll listen to everything, like I said, but I'm feeling outnumbered. Rossi needs to hear this, too. Let's take five, order breakfast, 'cause the wait staff are lookin' at us funny…and I'll get Rossi down here."
There was a general consensus; heads nodded.
Except for Hotch. He buried his face in his hands and thought Dave would consider this a poor way to move forward based on the discussion they'd had. And a poor way to repay the thoughtfulness of tomato soup and grilled cheese.
But Morgan was right. This thing was taking on a momentum of its own…
…and no matter what, they were still a team.
