AN: Right now I'm exploring how the different characters are reacting to Reid's odd behavior. Soon I'll have to reveal the truth to the team. Thank you to everyone still reading.
- O -
Reid's shirt was stained.
Rossi couldn't take his eyes off of the stain. It was unusual for Reid to wear something that needed to be washed. Then again, Reid had been exhibiting plenty of unusual behaviors since his shooting.
The plane shook through a patch of turbulence as it carried the team back to Quantico. The members of the BAU grappled for armrests and other sturdy braces to hold themselves until the plane steadied. Rossi kept his eyes on Reid the entire time. The young genius did not seem jostled by the turmoil like the rest of the team.
Rossi noticed one other member of the team watching the doctor closely. Morgan had been keeping a close eye on Reid since finishing up the case at the police station. He, like Rossi, appeared to suspect something more was going on with Reid.
Had Morgan noticed Reid's frequent disappearances? It seemed like the boy had been escaping more often lately. Rossi barely saw him at his desk in the bullpen anymore—though he knew Reid still worked as the items on his desk were in different positions every time Rossi passed by.
The one place Reid was sure to be were the briefings in the conference room. Whenever a new case came in, Reid was the first person present.
He seemed relentless in his fight against criminality. Rossi understood that drive. It was part of the reason he had three ex-wives, no children, and no prospects. Regret was an unwelcome companion that visited on lonely nights. Often a glass of scotch would accompany the regret. Poor company for someone who had more to offer.
As Rossi contemplated his life choices, he realized that his mistakes could prove a lesson for Reid. Throughout the rest of the flight, Rossi composed his speech. And when the plane landed, he offered the young doctor a ride home.
"That's all right," Reid tried to refuse.
"I insist," Rossi said with his trademark determination. He then walked toward his car without looking back. He knew Reid was following.
Rossi dropped his bag in the trunk then climbed into the driver's seat. Reid was already sitting in the passenger seat, his go-bag clutched tightly to his chest.
After driving out of the airport and pulling onto the highway, Rossi finally spoke.
"You doing okay, kiddo?" He glanced over and saw Reid watching him through lantern eyes. "You've been through a lot the last few months. It's okay to step away for a while. Take some personal time."
"I'm fine," came the quiet reply.
Rossi sighed. "I've said those same two words too many times over the years. Let me tell you, I wish I would have taken more time for the important things."
"Our work is important," Reid said.
"True, it is. But so is life. So is spending time with people you love, traveling to places you've never seen, taking the time to grow and learn."
Reid didn't respond.
"I'm worried about you," Rossi continued. "I see you becoming the same person I was when I got started with the BAU. Gideon and I were obsessed. We neglected family and friends and ourselves. Eventually, we didn't have a life outside of our work. It wasn't much of a life."
"It may be too late for me." Reid's words were so quiet Rossi almost missed them.
"You're young, Reid. You have so much life ahead of you. You almost lost everything when that bullet hit you a few months ago, but you're still here."
"I am still here," Reid repeated.
The car slowed as Rossi pulled up in front of Reid's apartment building. Reid reached for the door handle, but Rossi spoke up before the boy could escape the car.
"I hope I haven't overstepped my boundaries. I just wanted to give you a new perspective to think about."
Reid looked the older agent in the eye. "I understand. And I hope you will do the same."
Rossi smiled. "Touché."
As Reid climbed out of the car, Rossi called after him, "Start by putting on a clean shirt."
The reaction to this innocuous statement was sudden and unnerving. Reid turned and look at Rossi through wide eyes. He glanced down at the stain covering his shoulder, then back at Rossi.
"Yes, sir." He was gone before Rossi could find out an explanation for the fear in Reid's eyes.
Was the boy just embarrassed to be caught wearing filthy clothing? That excuse would certainly fit the germophobic young man. But Rossi suspected there was more to the frightened expression.
The stain matched the exact location where Reid had been shot. Perhaps seeing the dirty brown stain had caused a flashback. Was Reid sitting in his apartment right now struggling with the traumatic memory of almost dying?
The guilty notion drove Rossi to park his car and follow Reid up to his apartment. He knocked on the door and waited, listening. Not a sound broke the silence. Odd. It hadn't been five minutes since he dropped Reid off. Perhaps the situation was worse than Rossi imagined.
A door down the hall opened and an older woman stepped out.
"Excuse me," Rossi said, and the woman gave him a curious smile. "I'm looking for the man that lives in this apartment."
Sympathy flooded the woman's expression. "Do you mean Spencer? Are you a friend?"
"I work with Spencer at the FBI. Have you seen him?"
"I've caught glimpses of him. Though not as much now. I think he may be moving on."
The answer surprised Rossi. Perhaps his speech in the car had been for nothing. Was Reid merely tolerating the wisdom of an old man to placate him? Was the doctor already embracing the fullness of life?
"Thank you," Rossi said to Reid's neighbor.
She waved and made her way past him and down the hall toward the exit.
Rossi stared at Reid's door, convincing himself that Reid was fine. He was projecting his own fears onto the young genius. Perhaps rather than encourage Reid to seek out opportunities for enjoyment outside of work, he might take up the quest himself.
Rossi turned away from the door, smiling to himself. He would have to thank Reid for the epiphany next time he saw him. Maybe he would even buy the kid a new shirt.