Chapter 13

Aaron sat on deck, sipped at his soda, and tried his hardest not to feel like an idiot in his Hawaiian shirt and straw Panama hat. It was his cover, and he had to maintain it, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

He felt like a demented idiot on vacation, though.

"Of all things, I'm wearing chinos," Rossi sighed quietly, studying the umbrella in his Coke.

"I have two words for you," Aaron answered, setting his sunglasses on his nose. "Flip-flops."

Rossi shrugged. "Point taken."

Derek grinned as he came up on deck. "Man, I love this. Don't you just love this?"

"I might be getting seasick," Rossi muttered.

"You're just mad you didn't think of it first," Derek teased. "Hey, Hotch, are your toes sunburned yet?"

"It's still not too late to throw you overboard, Derek," Hotch said flatly. "It's a long swim back to shore."

Morgan studied the distance. "Ah, I'd make it."

Hotch studied the little umbrella in his soda and fought the urge to sigh. The cover that Hotch had wanted to pursue had been a couple of lost travelers, but instead, he and his team were a work group on vacation. Derek had suggested it and their higher-ups had agreed that it was the more likely cover. What that meant was that they had to dress in things they would never wear, pretend to be drinking alcohol, and be loud and annoying. So far they'd stopped in three places and none of them had been the place that Reid had mapped for them. Scott was always the one who went ashore while the rest of them acted like idiots on vacation to lend verisimilitude to Scott's story. Aaron had never thought that cut-offs and a Hawaiian shirt would look natural on anyone, but they did on Scott.

At least the boat was comfortable. They had Rossi to thank for that. The original boat that the FBI was going to charter for them had been far too small to be comfortable for all of them (and Aaron hadn't wanted to try to convince someone to stay behind-Penelope had been the logical choice for that, but one look at her face told him that he would be taking his life in his hands if he tried to leave her behind). Once Rossi had gotten a look at the boat they were supposed to use, he'd shaken his head and said, "Oh, no. No, if we're going to do this we're going to be comfortable. I'm gonna make a call."

They had no idea who he'd called, but they were now on a nice, comfortable sailboat with plenty of room for all of them, above and belowdecks, plus Penelope's computers and equipment. She'd refused to leave any of it behind, so she'd claimed a very tight corner of the lounge belowdecks for her own and was busy down there, typing away.

"Anything from Garcia?" Rossi asked, trying not to be annoyed by Derek's grin.

"Baby girl is typing away and making magic, but nothing yet. She's got satellite images of all the places that match and she's been analyzing all of them. There's two places that are likely candidates, but we're not near them yet."

"I wish we had more information," J.J. said from her seat. "If only Reid could send us a few photos, or something."

"Best not to wish for what we can't have," Hotch said. "Still, I agree with you, it would be nice." He turned to Scott. "How far are we from our next location?"

"Matter of three hours," Scott said from the ship's wheel. "The next person that asks is going overboard."

"Lemme guess," Emily said from where she sat against the starboard side. "You don't want to hear any iteration of 'Are we there yet?'"

"Not in the slightest," Scott answered, adjusting the wheel a tad. "Hearing that question will just make this trip seem longer, and we don't want that. After a few more days, we'll start sniping at each other."

"Looks like you're getting a head start on the sniping," Rossi said, digging in the cooler for a new bottle of soda. "Feeling okay?"

Scott swallowed hard and looked toward the horizon. "Yeah. While I know how to sail, I'm not the best sailor, if you take my meaning. The sooner we find this kid and call in the cavalry, the better."

Rossi pulled out a ginger ale and took it to Scott. "Here. This might help."

"Thanks. Take the wheel, will you? I need a break."

Hotch noticed that the man did seem rather pale as he took a seat in Rossi's vacated chair. He looked like he might vomit at any moment.

A scream and then clatter on the stairs drew his attention to Penelope, dressed in a hot pink hibiscus sundress. She was grinning. "Guess what I found!"

All of them were staring at her. Finally, Derek spoke. "Don't leave us in suspense, Baby Girl. What is it?"

"The exact coordinates of our next destination, and it looks like there are people and buildings there!" she said excitedly, practically vibrating on the spot. She waved some papers in the air and took them to Hotch. "Look, look, look!"

Hotch looked and he had to admit that the printouts looked likely and they certainly resembled the map that Reid had drawn them. It looked like their luck might be turning.

"That's great. You guys mind if I lay down a little while? I feel like I'm gonna be sick," Scott said. "Can you handle the boat?"

"Course we can," Rossi said, waving his friend to the stairs. "You go rest; we'll let you know when we're there."

"Okay. If I die from misery on the way, my affairs are in order. Just don't let anybody do anything weird with my corpse, like reanimate it."

Once he was belowdecks, they all looked at Rossi. Hotch couldn't resist. "Dave?"

"Yeah?"

"You have some interesting friends."

"That I do. The longer you know him, the more fun he gets, especially if there's an opportunity for a conspiracy theory. Just don't mention Disney World in the coming days, all right? Take it from someone who knows."

Hotch blinked and everyone looked just as confused as he felt.

J.J. was the one to ask the question. "So, what does he have against Disney World?"

Reid sank back into his seat, ill-at-ease with his surroundings and the person he was seated across from. He hadn't expected to be called up to the white stucco house this soon after being released.

The Director smiled at him and poured him a glass of lemonade. "It's good to see you, Dr. Reid," the Director told him, holding out the glass. "I know that things have been unpleasant for you lately, so I wanted to make sure that you were all right."

Reid's expression was wooden, almost flat as he took the glass. "I'm fine."

"Please give me more credit than that, Dr. Reid," the Director told him, his tone tolerant. "You were put into isolation due to James attempting to leave, and since you left isolation a week ago, you've not seemed yourself."

Reid shrugged. "I go to my activities. I go to meals. I've been teaching two classes. I sleep in my room at night...Nothing's any different than it was before."

"That's where we differ," the Director said firmly. "You go to activities, but there's no enthusiasm, distaste, or any emotion at all. You've been eating, but you don't eat much and I have been assured by the staff that you don't seem to enjoy your meals. It's as if eating is a chore for you. You teach your classes, yes, but it's as if you're nothing more than a speaker in the front of the room-a recording shows more animation than you do."

Reid shrugged again. "Honestly, I don't see why you're concerned. I feel fine."

"Are you being honest with me about that?"

"Yes," Reid told him. "I'm not sure what else I can do to convince you, but I do feel fine."

The Director gave him a long, thoughtful look. "I see. Well, if you feel fine…"

"I do."

"Well, since you're here, why don't you have lunch with me?" the Director offered. "It's always a treat to chat with you."

"Sure, lunch sounds good."

The Director kept careful watch while they enjoyed the meal served to them. Reid ate his turkey, dressing, and peas with carrots, and he happily accepted an apple bread pudding with caramel sauce. "Mmmm," Reid said, finishing off the last bite. "How did you find the culinary staff? I'm always impressed."

"I look here and there and occasionally I'll find a jewel, pluck them out of their tarnished setting, and bring them here," the Director said. "I was wondering if there were any activities you would like to see offered."

Reid thought about it. "There's a lot on offer already. Truthfully, I still haven't done everything I've wanted to do, so I can't really think of anything new that I'd like to see."

The Director glanced at him. "Ah, well. Why don't you think about it and let me know?"

"I can do that."

The Director kept him a few minutes longer, chatting, but finally time caught up to them and Reid had to head off to his tutoring session with Mara. He gave the Director the latest letter for his mother and headed to the bike rack to unlock a bike and head off.

He kept his face impassive as he pedaled over to the research center and parked his bike, allowing only a shadow of a smile to show once he was in blind spot where the cameras couldn't get a view of his face. As soon as he moved out of the blind spot the smile was gone, but he couldn't help the feelings welling up in his chest.

The Director was worried about him, which meant that things were going according to plan.

Reid had done a lot of thinking while he'd been in isolation. The Director had had things too much his own way while Reid had been there, so it was time to make things go his way instead. During the third day of his isolation, Reid had done some emoting, and on the fourth day, he'd done even more. The fifth day he'd spent all day either in tears or pacing up and down his room, swearing a blue streak. To keep those tears flowing, he'd thought about all the difficult cases he and his team had been through, all the people they hadn't been able to help, and he also thought about the people that he, Reid, had lost. Thinking about Gideon and Maeve had caused him to cry so hard that he'd had trouble catching his breath for a few minutes, and he was sure that the Director had been informed. To keep the anger flowing, Reid thought about the unfairness of the situation they were all in, and he was able to storm and rage for a good long time. For the sixth and seventh day, Reid had been listless and quiet, and then he'd been let out. Since then, he'd kept a tight rein on his emotions, allowing precious little of them to show, and in the week since he'd left isolation, he could tell that the staff had been keeping a close eye on him as he went about his activities.

As he'd pointed out to the Director, he was doing what he was supposed to do. He went to meals and activities, he taught classes, he had social interaction, but it was as if a ghost was doing all of it. Reid did not show if he loved or loathed what he was doing or any semblance of any emotion in between.

Reid was sure it was driving the Director CRAZY, and that was just how he wanted it. Reid had a plan to induce some mental whiplash in the Director, and so far things were working perfectly. The next phase of his plan was to make it seem as if he'd accepted being there so that when he put the phase after that into motion, no one would think to look at him.

It was a long, convoluted game he was playing, but as Gideon had once told him, a winning strategy could not be rushed.

Reid had also been taking the opportunity to talk to the staff more often. It was intriguing that all of them had willingly signed on to be the Director's employees. It meant giving up their previous lives and coming to the campus and rarely leaving it, if ever. The best reason he'd been able to think of for being willing to abandon the lives they had known was that they were all running from something. Even more intriguing was that they didn't seem to mind too much. The perks and the safety that all the employees enjoyed probably had something to do with that.

"Hi, Reid," Mara said as Reid reached the room where they studied together. "How's your day been so far?"

"Can't complain," Reid admitted. "How did you do with those examples?"

She lifted the sheet and showed him. "All done! Wanna see?"

A portion of his brain was still considering his plan while he tutored Mara, but she didn't seem to notice. He finished the session as he always did by writing out examples and problems for her to work on until their next session. "Here you go. I'll see you in two days."

Reid got the shock of his life when she took the paper and hugged him. "Um...Mara?"

"Sorry," she said, letting him go. "Since you've been let out of isolation, you've not seemed like the same Reid. I'm sorry it was so hard for you."

Reid worked up a smile for her. "You're not the one who should be apologizing, Mara. Really, I'm fine. I've just been doing a lot of thinking."

She nodded. "We all go through that. If you need someone to vent to, I'm a very good listener, and I'm just down the hall."

"I'll remember that," Reid promised.

Once he and Mara parted ways, Reid biked to the Green to meet up with Claudius, so they could play chess. Claudius remarked on Reid's spirits as well, but Reid assured him that he was fine.

"You're saying that as if it's true," Claudius protested.

"Because it is true," Reid said, moving a bishop.

"Oh, damn," Claudius said once he noticed Reid's move. "You just had to use the bishop, didn't you?"

"Of course I did," Reid said, allowing himself to smile. "Your move."

"Why do I get the feeling that you're bluffing?" Claudius said, studying the board.

"Plenty of people bluff in chess."

"And you're better than most," Claudius said, not looking away from the board.

Reid suddenly felt cold in the sunlight. Had Claudius managed to guess…? He hoped not. Reid knew how well he could keep secrets, but he had no idea about Claudius's capabilities. "Not really."

"Don't sell yourself short," Claudius said, moving a knight. "I'm sure you're very good."

At least Claudius could be inscrutable when he chose to be. There was that in his favor.

After the chess game Reid headed to dinner, where he joined Sean and everyone else at their usual table. He ordered turkey tetrazzini and a fruit salad for his dinner, and he joined in the conversation about Seneca's Letters from a Stoic. After dinner he biked to the rec center so he could attend his next class: rock wall climbing and rappelling. He'd signed up for it two days before, saying that he wanted to work on his hand-eye coordination. He was very, very thankful that he was wearing a harness whenever it was his turn to climb. That, and a helmet. The instructor had told him that he'd made history in being the first person to hit his head during the first class. He'd seen stars for a moment and lost his hold on the wall, and that was where the harness had come in.

"Now I see why they call you Crash," the instructor had said, helping Reid right himself and checking his eyes to make sure he hadn't done any damage to his head. "How do you feel?"

"Like an uncoordinated idiot."

"Physically?"

"I'm all right. Can I try again?"

The class met three times a week, and students were always welcome to climb the wall on their own as long as a member of the staff was free to spot them. If Reid had a spare hour, then he was in the rec center, doing his best to improve his climbing and rappelling skills. Any improvement was slow and it came in small increments, but it was there.

He'd also started taking long walks around the campus in the mornings, sometimes stopping to sketch the view and say hello to any staff that were nearby. Since being in isolation, Reid was taking the opportunity to be outside as much as he could. He'd nearly gone nuts with nothing green or growing near him and not being able to see more than a tiny square of sky. As he walked, he reflected on just how damned cruel and unnecessary the Director's system of punishment was. It was like knowing there was a giant and vicious creature over your head, ready to swoop down and maim you, but you never knew when it would strike. Even worse was the isolation-you were already feeling off balance by the punishment, and then you had nothing but a pressure cooker for your emotions for days on end. You had nothing and no one to distract you from how you were feeling, and you had no way of knowing that things would not get worse. It was no wonder to Reid why people dreaded being put in isolation.

James had come to visit him in his room almost as soon as he was released, and he apologized. "I'm sorry that my running got you put in isolation, Reid. It was a dick move."

"It wasn't a dick move on your part, it was a dick move on the Director's part," Reid said as he waved James to a chair. "He doesn't have to do the things he does, you know."

"Yeah, I know that. I wanted to be sure that you knew how sorry I was."

"Again, it's not your fault, James. Tell me, what have you been up to while I was in isolation?"

"Struggling with murderous rage," James said.

Reid's lips quirked in a smile. "Oh, really? Do tell."

"I've seen a lot of weird stuff as a cop, but this guy is a whole new level of weird," James sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "He's like...Willy Wonka turned Hannibal Lecter-style creepy."

Reid felt his eyebrows climb toward the top of his head. "Wow. That's...you're right, that's a whole other level."

"Yeah, he starts out all jovial and nice and then he gradually inches closer to me and then he's being super-nice and manipulative to make sure I do what he wants me to do. I have to ask his permission to go outside now, I have to let him know where I'm going, and I am now required to spend time with him and do activities with him. It's just...weird, you know."

"Do you feel as if he's a threat to your safety?" Reid asked, thinking about all the stalker and kidnapping cases he'd worked on. Such situations could turn bad very quickly for the victims.

"My physical safety? No," James said, shaking his head. "Call me crazy, but I don't feel like he would ever hurt me. My mental safety? Maybe. I just feel like he wants something from me and that he's getting it just by having me around, but damned if I know what it is."

Reid shrugged. "You may never know, not unless he tells you."

"Oh, believe me, I've asked."

"What kinds of things does he have you do?"

"Normal things, which in this situation, is odd," James stated. "He wants me to choose activities we can do together-how nuts is that? In the evenings, we have to spend time together and talk. Those conversations are painful since he's full of questions about me and he'll only answer certain questions about himself."

Reid thought about this. "Has there been a pattern or theme to his questions?"

"Yeah...me," James answered. "What do I like to do? What did I do when I was younger? What are my favorite things to eat? What do I like to read? What were my favorite subjects in school? What's something I've always wanted to do? What made me decide to be a cop? Did I just want to be a cop, or was being a cop a stepping-stone to something else? Did I have anyone special before I was brought here? Have I ever thought about getting married? Have I thought about children? Like I said, it's all me, and it's starting to be creepy. I...just don't know what to do about it."

"Huh," Reid said thoughtfully. "Sounds…"

"Creepy," Jame supplied.

"I was going to say, sounds like a really pushy parent with an over-proprietary interest in a perfect stranger, but creepy works."

James took one look at him and started laughing.

Thinking back on that exchange now, Reid smiled. He was sure the Director was going to get a big surprise.

Author's Note: I'M BAAAAAA-AAACK! I have had one hellacious period of time, but I have finally managed to get back to this. I've momentarily escaped the Director to upload the latest chapter. Kudos if you can figure out what Reid's planning. Later!