Chapter Thirty-Five: Time Lapse

The days passed by like grey storm clouds. The bureau had given him an extended paid leave, for how long this extended, Reid had no clue, but each day he received no word that they wanted him back. He also received no word from Prentiss about Cat, and although all the members of his team came in turn, and sometimes in groups, to "check in on him", he felt quite cut off from reality. His mind kept replaying the events in Russia. In short, he was horribly depressed.

It was somewhere around the 11th day of his self-induced social quarantine when Reid woke up with a start, acutely aware he was no longer alone. He held his breath and listened intently from the safety of his bed. There was some rustling in the kitchen. Slowly and cautiously, he slid out of bed and grabbed his gun out of his nightstand. He held it up and crept out into the main room.

In the kitchen he could see a man with his back turned to him, rummaging through his cabinets in between eating fistfuls of cereal.

"Hey!" Reid exclaimed, furious at this disrespect to his cinnamon toast crunch.

The man turned on his heel, not in the slightest perturbed at having a gun pointed in his direction. It was Richie – rather, Dante. He swallowed another mouthful of cereal.

"How ya doing Reidy boy?" He raised his eyebrows in a cheeky expression, "Gonna shoot me?"

Reid didn't lower his gun.

"What are you doing here?"

"They've kicked you out of the game it seems," Dante set the cereal box down on the counter and wiped his hands on a nearby towel, "I'd be rather insulted if I were you. Stuck in this shitty little apartment – no offense – instead of in the field where you belong. I mean, you risked your life out there and now they've sidelined you? Rude."

Reid narrowed his eyes. "You still haven't answered my question."

"Well, I had to give an introduction to it first. Do you want back in? Because I could give you some information you might want to know."

"Like?"

"I'll discuss it more once you're not pointing a damn gun at my face," Dante gestured to the weapon carelessly, "shall I make us some tea?"

And so the two sat at the kitchen table, sipping piping hot mugs of tea. Reid was eyeing his interlocutor with intense suspicion and a hint of bemusement. Dante Woods was certainly something else.

"You can probably read faster than I can explain," he pulled a handful of files seemingly out of nowhere, "Cat Adams and project Osiris have been given the green light, and this is her "team." Rather like your team, I should say, but smaller and consisting entirely of criminals – as opposed to your singular Penelope Garcia."

Reid looked up sharply from the page he had been starting to peruse.

"How do you…?"

"I know all," Dante wiggled his eyebrows ominously.

Finally giving up to the powers that apparently be, Reid dived into the documents in front of him. Cat had been introduced to these faces at a round table, Reid now met Agents Wires, Scott, and Carlyle through laminated photographs and criminal records. Wires was a serial arsonist, who's victims of choice were politicians she didn't like. Scott was one of the most prolific murderers of brides-to-be on their bachelorette parties. And Carlyle… had next to nothing in his file, save a photograph and general description.

"What's with the last one?"

"Carlyle? Well… whatever he's done, it's so bad that the government doesn't want anywhere on paper that they're associated with him."

Reid stared at the photograph, he looked clever, well-read, and well adjusted. There was only a slight glint in his eyes that would indicate he was capable of anything deviant. And even that could've been the result of confirmation bias.

"And Cat is working with him?"

"You should be more worried that your government is letting him work for them," Dante smirked, "but I get it, young love and all."

"I'm not –"

"Remember, I know all."

"You just admitted you didn't know anything about Carlyle."

Dante said nothing and sipped his tea.

"Well," Reid leaned back in his chair, "I know she's okay, in some respect. What else can I do though?"

Dante shrugged and kept sipping his tea. There seemed to be another shoe yet to drop, he surely hadn't come all this way to give Reid a status update.

"…Carlyle?"

"I don't trust it."

Reid stared at him.

"You found my apartment halfway across the world to tell me that you don't trust something?"

"I have a hunch," Dante continued.

"A hunch."

"A hunch, yes. That your dear U S of A doesn't know what it is doing."

"You're hiding something."

Dante took another sip of his tea and looked away, rather much like a dog when it knows it has stolen your sock and doesn't want to give it back.

"I can neither confirm nor deny."

"You think that he's planning on sabotaging the whole affair?" Reid leaned in and half whispered. He looked carefully at the face across the table. Dante put his mug down and examined the handle with a little too much interest.

"Well," he began, "I will say this. It's not the first time I've met him."

"And why are you being so vague?"

"There are interests far more powerful than you or I involved in this, and I don't trust this lovely little apartment to keep my secrets."

"Why are you telling me?"

"You and that Adams girl have some ungodly union that not even the parallels of criminal and official can break, I doubt the thin lines that separate secret projects and the FBI will keep you two apart." Dante had assumed an air of seriousness that was a stark contrast to his usual languid character, "In short, we have an inside man – I mean, woman – and that is exactly what we need. It'll be like Russia all over again."

"I am not too excited at the concept of Russia all over again."

"Whatever. All I know is that this man, with access to the kind of information and power they surely will give him, is going to be one of the most significant threats to national security this country has ever seen."

"And why do you care?" Reid was not at all convinced by this sudden apparent white-knight behavior.

"As I said, there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophies."

"Someone has a gun to your head or is promising you a briefcase full of cash."

"Might be both. All that should matter is whether the reasons I'm giving you make sense."

"Even if they do make sense, what am I supposed to do about it?"

"Well, either the entire project needs to get shut down… or someone's gotta kill Carlyle."

Reid blinked. So he was supposed to assassinate, rather organize the assassination of, someone who was officially a secret agent?

"I'll give you some time to think about it," Dante rose and pulled a small business card out of his jacket, "call me and arrange a nice dinner date so we can talk about your decision. I'm a sucker for Italian."

Reid took the card thoughtfully, watching as Dante gave a mock salute with his index and pointer finger and left the apartment.

What was he going to get himself into now?