Chapter 9

Jealousy

A month had passed since Hotch and Reid's…encounter. Reid had profiled the triangle killer (a name both men despised but the media loved) and was set to testify at his trial in a few weeks. The team had quickly solved the case in Hawaii and, on Rossi's dime, convinced Hotch to let them stay an extra day. The golf outing was frustratingly slow. Reid amazed the Senator and the Director as he recited statistics about golf and listed many significant events that happened at the golf course they were at. He had made Hotch promise to stop him if he was going on to long by scratching his nose to give him a signal. It worked well. They had also prepared three topics to discuss beforehand that Hotch would bring up that would showcase some of Reid's skills. Hotch said he did this at any networking event. He thought of antecdotes from cases that shown him in a good light, or an article he'd recently read that he could give an interesting analysis on. Eventually, he explained, Reid would learn how to work these into conversations naturally himself. For now, he agreed to assist.

They kept their six feet rule, for the most part. When they were alone they strictly adhered. Of course, it would have been odd to go out of their way to keep distance between them so there were times they would be seated next to one another. Once, the team went out to dinner, and they couldn't avoid being next to one another in the booth. They both pretended not to enjoy the feeling of the other's body heat so close. When their thighs pressed together under the table, neither acknowledged it.

It was a momentary lapse, Hotch thought to himself as he tried to fall asleep, pretending that he didn't see Reid every time he closed his eyes. A physical need, he thought, realizing just how long it had been since he'd been alone with Beth. They'd only seen each other twice in the past month, and once he was quickly called away on a case, the other, it was only for the day and they took Jack to the zoo. Guilt crept up his spine as he realized he barely even touched her when she came to visit. Barely even wanted to. He kissed her, but it was quick and thoughtless. But he loved her, still, and she was so great with Jack.

As he tried to will himself to sleep, his phone rang. It was a sheriff from a town in Florida where he'd assisted with a joint task force to locate a missing child. Someone had tried to kill him by setting his house on fire. Hotch didn't understand why he was calling him until he explained that a week ago, his deputy sheriff was killed in what was explained at the time as an accident. It appeared that he had gotten drunk, and crashed his car into a tree, and the car had burned. The sheriff explained that he knew the deputy wouldn't have driven drunk, that it was a set up, but no one believed him. Someone, it appeared, had an axe to grind with the sheriff's office. He was in the hospital, suffering from smoke inhalation and superficial burns. He and his wife were able to get out of the house alive. But, now he felt like his force was vulnerable, and he wanted the BAU's help.

Hotch texted the team to meet at the jet at 7 a.m. and that he would brief them on the plane.

A few minutes later, he was out of bed, sitting at his desk at his laptop, looking at the files the Sheriff said he sent over. His phone buzzed.

12:48 a.m.: Reid: You're already working on this aren't you?

Hotch: Yes. The sheriff is a friend.

Reid: Coffee?

Hotch: What?

Reid: I'm on my way over. Do you want coffee?

Hotch: No, I'll go put on a pot.

Reid showed up 25 minutes later with his bags ready to go in the morning. He was wearing his glasses, which Hotch hadn't seen in a long time. He forgot how cute they were. He had on sweat pants and an oversized sweatshirt. He must have just gotten out of bed and come over.

Hotch had relocated to the living room with his computer. There were two cups of coffee sitting on the coffee table. Hotch pointed to one of them, "I only put 4 sugars." Reid looked at him and squinted his eyes. "Try it before you give me that look."

Reid took a sip and was pleasantly surprised, "this is…is that…these are Irish coffees?"

Hotch smiled and took a seat on the couch. They spent the next few hours going over crime scene photos, the fire inspectors' reports, and looking at a few case files that the sheriff sent over with possible suspects who were put in jail by the sheriff and recently released. There wasn't enough for a full profile. Given the fact that the deputy and the sheriff were around the same age and ran in the same social circles, there wasn't even enough to determine whether it was related to their jobs.

"We're going in circles," Reid said, throwing down the files that Hotch had printed out for him while he was on his way there, because Hotch remembered he preferred hard copies. He looked down at his watch, "we should call it a night now so we can at least get a few hours of sleep," he said yawning.

Hotch stared at him. Reid shifted his weight and put his feet out in front of him on the couch, then reached over and grabbed the blanket that was folded and resting on the arm rest of the seat next to him, covering himself. Hotch let out a deep breath. Reid realized why and couldn't help himself, "man this couch is lumpy," he said, "mind if we share the bed?" he asked with a sly smile.

Hotch picked up a pillow from the couch he was sitting on and threw it at him. "I hate you," he said.

"You love me," Reid said jokingly.

A solemn look fell over Hotch's face as he got up and walked over to the light switch. "Good night Spencer."

The next morning, they dropped Jack off at his aunt's house and headed to the jet. They were the last ones to arrive and the team was waiting on the jet.

"It's 7:01 Aaron," Rossi teased, "you're late."

"That's my fault," Reid explained, "I made Jack laugh while he was eating breakfast and milk shot out his nose and he had to go back up and change. It was actually really funny. I told him this joke about two physicists who—"

"Why were you having breakfast at Hotch's house?" Morgan asked.

"I slept there last night," Reid said matter of factly. Everyone stared at them. This is one of those social cue situations Hotch would have to explain to him later.

"On my couch," Hotch quickly explained, "Reid had some ideas about the case and wanted to discuss them."

"Brown noser," JJ said under her breath.

"What was that?" Reid asked sincerely.

"I said what were your ideas?" JJ responded smiling.

Reid started rattling off his ideas as Hotch took a seat. He let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes tight. When he opened them, he saw Rossi, staring at him suspiciously.

"What?" he asked.

"Oh," Dave replied, "nothing."

Shit, Hotch thought, he knows.

When they arrived at the station they were greeted by a young deputy named Bradley Shannon, who insisted everyone call him Brad. He was tall, but not as tall as Hotch or Reid, and well built. His broad shoulders strained against his tan uniform. His hair was a dark brown, almost black. Anyone who knew Aaron Hotchner in his early thirties might say this man looked a lot like him. The only difference was that instead of a deep dark brown, his eyes were bright blue.

Brad introduced himself to the team. He shook everyones hand. He reached out to shake Reid's hand, and Hotch waited for him to wave back like he usually does. He didn't. He grasped the deputy's hand firmly and smiled. The deputy smiled back. "Nice to meet you, Doctor," he said.

"You can call me Spencer," Reid said smiling.

"Okay, Spencer."

Dear God why are they still shaking hands, Aaron thought, this has to be a record for longest handshake. When they finally released, Aaron let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. He could feel David Rossi's eyes burning a whole in the back of his neck. He knew exactly what Rossi was seeing. The way his shoulders tensed up when their hands met. The way his fists clenched when Spencer smiled at him. He had absolutely no right to be jealous. But he was.

The team followed Brad to where he had set up a conference room for them, "it's not much, but this is really the only space we have. I'll be honest with y'all, I'm a little out of my depths here. I was promoted after Deputy Karr died a few weeks ago and I was barely getting the hang of that job when I got the call yesterday that I'm acting sheriff. I've got my guys going over every inch of the Sheriff's house and pulling every threat he's ever received. What else can I do?"

"You're doing just fine," JJ said in a reassuring voice.

"Are these the threats?" Reid asked, pointing at two boxes on the table. Brad nodded. "Is there somewhere quiet where I can read these?"

Brad looked at him, confused, "umm…you can use my office…"

"Thanks!" Reid said, grabbing one of the boxes, "can you get the other?" Brad picked up the box and followed him. Hotch's eye's followed them until they were in the office and out of sight. Rossi put a hand on his shoulder and started the team discussing the profile.

Reid took a seat in a chair that was at one end of the office and opened the box.

"You don't mind if I answer some emails while you're uhh..reading do you?"

"No that's fine, its just faster if I there isn't a lot of noise," Read replied opening one of the boxes and taking out a stack of papers. Brad started to back toward his desk slowly, staring at Reid, as he picked up the papers, scanned them, and moved on to the next.

"Are you actually reading them?" he asked.

"Yes," Reid replied, going back to the task at hand. Brad continued to stare at him and Reid could feel it so he looked back up, "What?"

"Water vapors or lightning?" he asked.

A giant smile spread across Reid's face, "I don't have the speed force. It's a skill called speed reading," he considered explaining but decided against it, "but I see myself more as a Barry Allen than a Jay Garrick."

"Yeah, I bet you'd look pretty good in that red suit too," Brad said smiling.

Just then Hotch was standing in the doorway, knocking at the door. "Reid, did you finish reading those yet?"

"Finish, he just sat down," Brad said incredulously.

"Yes and if he had been focusing he would be done by now," Hotch responded with a stern voice, "you can turn your attentions back to those later. The fire inspector is here. There was a possible use of an accelerant and you're the only one here with a chemistry degree." Hotch swiftly exited the room and Reid clumsily got up and followed him. Brad following closely behind.

Reid questioned the fire inspector, rattling off words Hotch could not quite understood, asking about the chemical composition of something or other. The rest of the team was in the next room. The entire time he was speaking, Brad stared at him, absolutely transfixed. Hotch walked out of the room and stepped outside to get some air.

"Wanna talk about it?" Rossi asked, stepping outside next to him.

He hung his head low, "I messed up Dave. God I messed up."

"Hey," he said, "you're talking to the reason those anti-fraternization policies exist, remember."

Hotch looked at him with a sad desperation, "fraternization" he huffed.

"Oh Aaron," Rossi said, "this is more than that isn't it."

"It's Reid," he said, "he's all big puppy eyes and messy hair every time I look at him I melt and that was fine, it was like that for so long, I thought it was just, I don't know, paternal. God that sounds so wrong."

"And then," Rossi sighed, "Chris Byers happened, and the moment you realized that there was a possibility that it could be more, that Spencer Reid was sexually attracted to men, you finally realized why all this time you've been wrapped around that kid's scrawny, genius little finger."

"You knew?" Hotch asked.

"I suspected," he said. "Have you decided what you're going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"About these feelings…are you going to act on them?" Hotchner looked up at him and the guilt was apparent. "You already did!"

"Keep your voice down."

"When? Where? How? Oh I need to know everything…why are you looking at me like that?"

"Remember when I offered to give Reid golfing lessons?"

"AT MY HOUSE?!" Rossi yelled, "I swear to god Aaron if it was in my bed I will—"

"Relax, it was in your backyard. And we only kissed."

"A kiss?" Rossi asked, "You're this riled up over a kiss? No...that can't be it. What happened when you dropped him off? Did you go upstairs?"

"We didn't make it that far."

Rossi looked at him confused, at first. "No. Please don't. I've sat in the back seat of that SUV since…"

"Not in the SUV," Hotch said, then his voice lowered to a whisper, "more like…against it."

Rossi's eye's shot open.

"I don't know what came over me Dave. It was like I was another person. I never thought that I would like…"

"A man?" Rossi asked.

"No," Hotchner responded, "I mean, yes, but more than that. It was like he was reading my mind. Like he knew things I wanted that I didn't even know I wanted."

Rossi was laughing. "Aaron, that's exactly what he did. He profiled you." He looked his friend up and down, "you didn't know you were into power and control?"

"What is it written on my face?" Aaron asked.

Rossi laughed, "in your title." Aaron gave him a stone face. "I kid. But you're also caring and generous and I bet every time you've been with a woman you made it all about her. Am I right?"

Hotch nodded. "With him I felt, god I felt so free. And it was absolutely terrifying. And wonderful. And knowing that it can never happen again is just—"

"And why can't it?"

"Beth," he answered quietly, "and besides it would be completely against the rules, not to mention unethical. He's my subordinate."

"Well," Dave said, "then I suppose you have to live with that choice."

They looked inside at Reid and Brad who were talking and laughing.

"Kid," Morgan said, "you coming out to dinner?"

Reid was finishing going through the threats and rather than answering he simply shook his head no.

"You sure? Rossi's paying."

Reid put down the last paper. "I'm sure. Deputy Shannon has some old comic books at his house. Rare editions. He said I could come over and look at them."

"Alright lover boy," Morgan answered with a big grin.

"It's not like that," Reid blushed, "do you know where Hotch is?"

"Yeah, he's in the conference room."

Reid walked past Morgan, who was making obnoxious kissy faces and noises at him, carrying the second box back into the conference room, with a few papers in his hand. "I looked through all of the threats," he said placing the box down. "These seven letters are the only ones that seemed like they were potentially serious, the top three were definitely typed by the same person. No signature. If we have a suspect I can compare speech and writing patterns."

"Okay," Hotch said without looking up from the paperwork he was completing. Rossi was seated on the other side, they were the only two left. Reid stood there, still. "Is that all Reid?"

"Umm, yeah. Sorry about before, you were right I should have finished these sooner," he said playing with the hem of his shirt.

"It's fine."

"It was just that I umm, well, it was actually pretty funny, Brad he saw me reading so fast and he asked me—"

"Reid. I'm busy. We can talk at dinner."

"Oh actually," Reid said shifting his feet, "I'm not going to dinner."

Finally, Hotch looked up at him.

"Brad, uhm, Deputy Shannon, he has these rare comic books that—"

"Okay have fun," Hotch blurted out, staring back down at his paper. Reid slung his shoulders down and walked out the door.

"Don't" Hotch said as soon as Reid left.

"I said nothing," Rossi said, putting his hands up defensively.

"mmhmm," he explained.

"Just let me go find where the thermostat is because it is coldddddd in here," Rossi said, pretending to shiver.

"What was I supposed to do? Latch onto his leg? Beg him not to go?"

"Did you want to?"

Hotch just stared at him, unsure how to answer. His phone rang and he glanced down at the caller ID, sighing before he picked it up, "Beth, hey honey, give me a moment," he said leaving the room, watching Rossi shake his head.

Reid lost his balance as he stepped from the marina onto a the deck of the boat, "I thought you said we were going to your house," he said as he almost slipped, and Brad steadied him.

"We are," he said waving his hand around, "this is my house."

"You live on a boat?" Spencer asked, incredulously.

"For now," he answered, "I was living with my parents until the fire."

"The fire? The sheriff is your dad?"

"Step-dad, so we don't share the same last name, but he's the only father I've ever known really," he said climbing down into the cramped apartment of the boat, "my daddy, the one who gave me these charming good looks, he died when I was real young. They were partners actually. This boat here, well it was his. Dan, well he kept it up, maintained it, and when I was a little older, he told me about how much my dad loved the open sea. Said that I could come here whenever I wanted, to be with my dad."

Reid looked at him sweetly, "sorry I'm spilling all this on you. All you asked was…"

"No its okay. I think its nice," he said, "I get it. My mom she's…um she's schizophrenic…but um, she was a literature professor and sometimes, when I miss her, I read one of the books that she used to read to me and its like she's there."

"So is that why you read so fast?" he asked, "cause I gotta say when I heard you had a chemistry degree, I thought you might really be the Flash for a second."

"I also have degrees in Physics, Mathematics, Psychology and Philosophy," he said.

"Well damn, beauty and brains."

Reid blushed and looked down at his feet, "so how did you get into comics anyway?" he said looking over a shelf lined with books wrapped in plastic."

"I don't know I suppose the same way any boy does," he responded. Reid looked at him questioningly. "What?"

"Nothing, its just that, I don't know I guess I didn't know that guys that looked like you could also be comic book nerds," he smiled.

"Guys that look like me?"

"I just mean, umm" Reid stuttered, "conventionally speaking based on the symmetry pattern of your face and the ratio of your—"

"Dr. Reid…are you flirting with me?" he asked, stepping closer.

"Is that…okay?" Reid asked.

He smiled back at read, his blue eyes glistening, and put one hand on Reid's upper arm. Slowly, he started moving toward Reid when Reid pulled away. The deputy sputtered, "Sorry, I thought—"

"Do you smell that?" Reid asked. The Deputy looked at him confused. "Get off the boat!" Reid yelled. He grabbed Brad's arm and started running. Behind them, the entire boat was quickly engulfed in flames. Brad turned to look at it and Reid tried to stop him and keep running. The boat exploded. The blast knocked them both too the ground.

The ringing in Brad's ear's was persistent. He had a gash on his arm that was pleading. Confused, he turned to his side to see Spencer, unconscious on the marina next to him. ."Spencer!" Brad yelled, trying to wake him up. "Spencer, wake up!" He got no response. Quickly, he pulled out his cell phone to dial 9-11. Some had already called it in when they saw the flames. The ambulance arrived quickly. As the paramedic tried to examine him, he urged them to let him ride with Spencer to the hospital, wielding his badge when they first refused and suggested he be checked out first.

Brad was pacing in the waiting room when the team came into the hospital. They were all walking forward with worried looks on their faces. All except their leader, who looked more angry and desparate than he rest. Upon seeing the deputy, he picked up his pace, approaching him and using his height to tower over the slightly shorter man, who was now backed up against the wall.

"How could you let this happen?" he yelled.

"Sir," JJ tried to interrupt.

"It's okay," Brad said to her, "Sir I can assure you that I had no idea that this was going to happen and my people are doing everything they can to catch whoever did this."

"Well maybe if you were focused on doing your job instead of hitting on my agents you would have caught him already," Hotch yelled. As soon as he finished saying it he realized it was a mistake, but the damage was already done. Everyone was staring at them. The entire team were looking at him like they were about to have him committed. And maybe they should. His features calmed and he took few steps back, his hand coming up to massage the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have. I'm sorry. I'm just worried. Did the doctors say anything?

"They're doing tests now," Brad answered, "they think he might have a concussion."

"And you, are you okay?" Hotch asked.

"Fine sir, the doctor said I just have some cuts and bruises. If I had been there alone, I'd probably be dead."

"What do you mean?"

"Spencer, he smelled something, I don't know what, and started yelling to get off the boat."

"And you didn't smell anything?"

"No sir."

"Okay," Hotch said straightening his blazer, "Morgan, I want you to stay here and see what Reid remembers when he wakes up. I know we're all worried about him, but the best thing we can do right now is go try to find out what happened. Dave, go with Brad back to the marina. See if you can figure out what Reid was talking about, maybe an accelerant? There were a few witnesses on the marina, maybe they saw the unsub and didn't know. JJ and I will go to the station and assist in the interviews."

With their orders, the team started to split up. Morgan stayed behind in the waiting room and the others left the hospital. As they were walking toward their respective vehicles, Brad pulled Hotch aside.

An hour later, Rossi and Brad returned to the precinct. They were unable to piece much together. Rossi tried to go through a cognitive interview but Brad didn't remember smelling anything other than the smells of the ocean. When they came back, Hotch and JJ were finishing up the interviews. One couple saw someone run passed them, dressed in dark clothing, but were unable to give any description.

Morgan's name lit up on Hotch's screen, "Hey Morgan you're on speaker. How's Reid?"

"He's still pretty out of it, I tried to ask him about what happened but he was talking jibberish."

"What exactly did he say?" Rossi asked.

"I tried to get him to tell me what it was that he smelled but he said he couldn't remember, so I asked him if it was a good smell or a bad smell and he said 'both.' When I asked what it meant all he said was," Morgan paused, looking down at his notebook, "'it was bad, it burned, but I liked when he made me drink it, my head was already spinning-"

"Scotch," Hotch interrupted. Everyone looked at him. "Or whiskey," he reached through the pile of papers in front of him, "at the first scene, the car, they assumed it was drunk driving. There was an open bottle of whiskey in the car. What about the Sherriff's house?"

"There was a bottle knocked over on a table but it wasn't uncommon for the Sheriff to have night cap," Brad answered, "I don't think anyone asked him about it…I'll call him."

"Good work Morgan," Hotch reached down to hang up.

"Hotch, can you take me off speaker?"

He complied, picking up the phone and walking out of the conference room. "Sure, its just us. What is it?"

"How did you know what the kid was talking about?"

"Oh, I just, um—it sounded like he was talking about alcohol and I remembered the whiskey in the car. Why?"

Morgan sighed. "It's just the rest of what he said."

"There was more? Do you think I am wrong about the whiskey?"

"No. But he said 'my head was already spinning. I would do anything he told me to. Anything. Why isn't he here? Why did…" Morgan started to trail off.

"Morgan, what else did he say?" There was silence on the other end. "Morgan?"

"He said, 'Why did he send you?' Hotch? you still there?"

"I have to go."