"It's Reid. I'm not feeling well today, I wanted to let you know I won't be in. See you Monday." Hotchner played the contents of his office answering machine for Agent Gideon. It was Friday evening, top of the hour, and everyone else had gone home for the weekend. It had taken hours for Agent Hotchner to get back to his office after spending the morning, all of lunch, and well into the three o'clock hour cataloguing case files with his team. When they'd discovered the anomaly on the business card he'd cleared Prentiss and Morgan to take the afternoon off and drive up to DC. That was before the rest of the team had taken off for the weekend, and before he and Gideon walked up for a private chat.
"Well?" Hotchner prompted from his colleague.
Gideon sank into the chair in Hotch's office, eyes cast down to stare intently at his clasped hands. "Reid's a smart kid. Sometimes smart kids make stupid choices, Hotch."
"I know Reid is capable," Hotchner prefaced. "I'm just not convinced, and correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think you're convinced either, that this time he is capable of dealing with this on his own."
Gideon took a lengthy pause to consider his answer. "You know, Reid would know the likelihood that you'd be at your desk to receive this message during the day. Why didn't he call you on your cell phone?" Gideon leaned forward in his seat. "Or any of us, for that matter?"
"Are you saying that he might have subconsciously wanted us to be worried and to look for him?"
"It's been two months since Atlanta, and not once has he said anything other than that he's just fine. Maybe, after all this time, he's found he doesn't have the words to ask for help."
"You're thinking he could have planted that business card for us to find, knowing we'd investigate and likely find out what he's been doing a poor job of hiding for the past two months?"
"Don't you think it's possible?" Gideon leaned forward in his seat. "He just might be reaching out for our help."
"Seriously? No - no! Did you see that girl? Because she was... really? She was... well... I mean it's possible," Prentiss finally conceded. "But highly unlikely," in response to Morgan's grin. "Why do you have to be so cheeky all the time?" The agents were stepping away from Ms. Stadler's apartment complex. Morgan had suggested the possibility that Danielle and their young Reid might be involved romantically. Prentiss laughed off his playful thoughts, but they both knew there was a much more down-to-Earth interpretation neither of them wanted to voice: Danielle Stadler was supplying dilaudid to the young genius.
Their laughter faded and they walked to the car in silence. Morgan paused, looking up at the imposing building they'd come out of moments ago. The four-story facade overlooking the street was mid-19th century architecture, partially restored within the last twenty years. Beyond the facade, the old foyer was now front desk and security. He counted two cameras trained on the over-large front archway. There was no other entrance but the fire escapes, and he guessed they too would be camera'd and alarmed.
When they reached the car Morgan asked, "Reid's apartment is pretty close, do you think we should check in?"
Prentiss shook her bangs away from her face. "Do you think that's such a good idea?" The prospect of confronting Reid about his absence today tasted sour. They climbed into Morgan's car, thinking similar, sad thoughts.
Dan closed the door behind the agents as they left, wondering about their visit. They were "looking for him," the woman had said, but didn't let on why or for what. They hadn't given her their names either, and she hadn't asked. The badges were legitimate, and Dan knew better than to poke around for information she had no business with. She wiped her fingers across her brow and picked up Bia's water bowl to fill.
She thought back to how the woman had exchanged a look with her partner when Dan mentioned seeing Reid the night before. Dan wasn't a very good profiler, but she'd be damned if Reid didn't know those people.
"Whatever," she muttered to Bia. She'd only just met this guy a week ago and there were Feds at her door? If that wasn't an indicator that she should maintain proper distance from the situation, she didn't know what was.
She busied herself with prepping her kitchen and ingredients to cook for two. She sliced, diced, and minced and threw each ingredient into it's own tiny bowl and set everything in the fridge to chill for a few hours. In the bathroom, she put on her "out" face: brushing on exaggerated black and then gold liquid eyeliner, nude cream to brush away the bags under her sleepy eyes, touching up mascara, artificially enlarging the plump of her lips. Shortly before 6 she threw on a coat to fend off the dropping temperatures. Despite it being early April, the forecast predicted near-freezing temperatures this weekend, so she completed her look with a beanie, a twisted scarf, and a pair of gloves.
She wasn't due to work tonight, but she went in anyways. Or, she supposed, went 'out' anyways. She still had two hours before her friend Elise was due to be over for dinner. It took Dan a half an hour each way, leaving her with an hour to grab a drink with Aurelia, the Brazilian-born teen who managed stock on weekends.
Aurelia was 18. Too young to be drinking alcohol legally in the US, but in Dan's line of work, supplying liquor to a minor would be the least of her worries. Plus, the bartender who worked Friday nights was in on the supply line and Dan happened to know that she thought Aurelia was quite cute. The three ladies were huddled in the back nursing top shelf cocktails when Dan's phone rang.
"Elise, hey! I didn't expect you until 8, I'm sorry if you beat me home!"
On the other end: "Actually Dan, I'm so so sorry, I have to back out tonight - the other Dan is in a bit of a funk and I think I should stay home and cheer him up. Is that okay? I'm sorry!" Elise's boyfriend was also named Dan, which amounted to endless amusement whenever the three of them hung out together. Many times she would playfully joke that she needed to see 'the other Dan', with a wink.
"No, no, go, be with your boyfriend. We'll reschedule, I promise." ... "Yea I'll find something else to do tonight, don't you worry about me. I'll call you tomorrow, k?" ... "Bye." She put down her phone. "I guess it's a good thing I came down here!"
Rachel-the-bartender smiled slyly. "Sounds like someone might need another drink soon. There's a new DJ tonight; I don't know him but he's supposed to be good." She shrugged.
Dan smiled. "I would stay if I had a dance partner, but I think Aurelia's parents might actually expect her back sometime," she said. Aurelia looked at them sheepishly. "Plus haven't you heard the news? We're actually supposed to get snow! So if I were you, I'd pack it up and head out as soon as you can after your shift."
She stayed with her friends for another hour, watching the evening crowd trickle in, the servers push tables against the wall to make room for dancing, eyeing the more attractive patrons, commenting on attire. Around 8:30 they decided it was cold enough outside and only getting colder. Dan bid them goodnight and made her way home. Back in her apartment she punched the thermostat up to 70 to counteract the drop in outside temperature.
Then she took Bia out into the courtyard. She took out her phone to text Elise and was surprised to find it already ringing. It wasn't a number she had programmed in, but she sighed and answered it. "Hey Reid." What an interesting turn of events.
She was waiting outside when Reid walked up. He fingered the loose plastic jar in his pocket, felt the curve of the screw-on lid. He'd fiddled with it the whole way here, warming it to the temperature of his hands. Bia recognized him and gave a brief tale-wag. Reid cleared his throat and looked down. "I'm sorry, Dan," he always apologized. "I can't talk about this with anyone else I know. I'm sure you have better things to do with your Fridays." She wondered if "this" referred to his drug use itself or whatever trauma had caused him to seek it.
Dan smirked, trying to keep her spirits lifted to coax him into doing the same. "Actually I had a friend cancel on me and was looking forward to cooking 'dinner for two' for just myself. That's just a little depressing, don't you think? So I'm glad you showed up so I can force you to eat my food." She paused, letting the man breathe and gather his mind. "Sound good? Lets go upstairs."
The security guard checked Reid's ID and gave him the once-over, but didn't comment. He waggled his fingers at Bia and smiled at Dan, then buzzed them all through.
"So," she said when they were back in her apartment. "What can I do for you? Besides cook you a very late dinner," she said, pulling bowls out of the fridge.
"I was hoping you could dose me tonight. I brought my own, I just... it's easier on me if you do it." He tried vainly not to sound as pathetic as he felt.
She had to hide a twinge of disappointment. What was a client without his fix? "That's all about the practice, you know." He smiled, closed-mouthed. Dan thought it could have been a wince. "Do you at least want to tell me why two FBI handlers showed up here looking for you today?"
"It's nothing," Reid replied, too quickly for her liking. He touched his thumbs together, looked over the blandness of her apartment. His eyes traced the lines of the kitchen cupboards, followed the line of the ceiling meeting the white wall, jumped down to the fringe on the large patterned blanket-turned-tapestry that covered the empty space where a window would be, if this space were separate from the identical apartments on either side.
His silence disturbed her, and her face showed it. "There was a black man, and a dark-haired white woman." She didn't believe poking at him would get him to respond the way she wanted, but it was worth a try.
"Look, I said it's nothing."
"Reid," she cautioned. "You can't even look me in the eye."
"I'm sorry, I forgot - are you my drug dealer or my mother?" Reproached and defensive was a new tone from the lanky man. "It's none of your damn business, Dan," he snapped, albeit eloquently and without raising his voice but an octave, like she was the one overstepping bounds. Dan scoffed at the unfairness. Reid stood up and took two steps away from the couch, the carpet offering no protest.
She scowled at his defiance. "When those FBI studs came to my apartment, Reid, looking for you, it became my business." For a second Reid gave away a look of regret. "And you know what? I have one more thing on my mind - my apartment complex is locked down; I chose this apartment because there's a guard at the entrance, where everyone has to be buzzed in and ID'd. Yet you managed to show up at 2AM right outside my door? It didn't register at the time because it was freaking 2AM, but unless you live in the building or are in law enforcement, you should have been denied access." Dan took a shaky breath. "Are you setting me up?"
"What? No- no, I-." Reid took a breath. "I am not setting you up."
"Then how could the FBI have known to look for you here, unless you told them yourself?" She gestured emphatically with her hands. "Look, now I know you're a Fed, deny it all you want. And I don't care - hell, I even supplied a senator once, but I do not abide straight-edge legal types finding reasons to poke around my place of residence."
He frowned and looked down in thoughtfulness. "Realistically, you're a small-time dealer. The FBI wouldn't have any interest in coming after you unless you're involved in a larger circle. Just... you have to trust me," he pleaded.
Dan hastily pushed back the hair creeping over her face and gathered herself. She still had a job to do, and arguing with a client was not a means to that end. "I trust you. I'm paid to trust you." She didn't, of course, but her clients never needed to know how she truly felt about them. Her job was to assuage them enough to trust her, not the other way around. "For your information, I told them you were here last night. Don't look at me like that, I'm not in the business of lying to the Feds about things that really aren't my problem."
Dan mistook the fleeting surprise across his face as panic, but in reality he was pleased. Prentiss and Morgan were here - they knew. Good- that was good, he firmly told himself. He gulped back his fears, staring straight ahead. Would they tell the rest of the team? Would they tell- he gulped again- JJ? His resolve faltered and he swayed on his feet, gripping the couch and breathing deeply. He didn't want to think about JJ, or the disappointment she wouldn't be able to hide from him.
Dan made to dash over. "Are you feeling ok?" She said in a concerned rush.
"I'm fine," Reid said firmly, pointedly looking at the tapestry. "Could you give me a minute to use your bathroom?" He forced a weak smile and looked at Dan's creased brow. "Maybe you could start on that dinner you promised?"
She relented and they moved in opposite directions. Behind the firmly closed and locked bathroom door, Reid let his face contort into the wince he'd suppressed since he left his own apartment. He leaned back against the door, squeezing his eyes shut and balling his hands into white-knuckled fists.
A/N: More Reid-centric content to follow in the next chapter! I'm trying to get my momentum going to post more frequently. Thank you for making it this far!