Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow!
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.
This is my Christmas Gift for MelloJason, as part of the gift exchange on Chit Chat on Author's Corner. The prompts I was given were: Wizards in Winter (Trans Siberian Orchestra), snow, blizzard, snowed in for Christmas. My pairing is Reid and Morgan.
End of this chapter makes us half way through the story. I will not promise the next chapter tomorrow but definately by Boxing Day. Sorry to keep you waiting.
. . .
At once Morgan's attention was caught by Reid's sudden inaction. The younger agent appeared frozen to the spot, which was possible with the weather.
"What you got kid?" he called from the other side of the still damp dark mass that was once a log cabin.
"It looks like something in a footprint," Reid answered, his head popping up and circling around; as if he was trying to process the whole scene as he scanned it, before he reached into his pocket for something then he bobbed back down again.
"It probably belongs to one of the fire crew from last night," Morgan refused to get excited by the 'discovery'.
"I'd like to take a closer look at the other cabins, having read the file before we left I think there was a hap-hazard element to the crime scene analysis. I have already found a number of inaccuracies in the one for the Larson's; they may have missed something at the other scenes too."
"We're BAU, not CSI and right now I'm COLD."
Reid looked directly at Morgan after his last comment, deciding it was best ignored.
"The Manson cabin is only a short way through the wood to the left; it's not the next one along this path but the one after. I would like to look at one more cabin before we leave."
Morgan shrugged, knowing he could do little to deter the genius once he had a set idea; "Whatever, let's go."
Trudging off together, Morgan finally accepted the inevitable fact, he was not going home this Christmas – none of them were.
. . .
By the time they reached the snow covered remains of the second cabin, Morgan was ready to split and call it a day, the walk had taken longer then he had estimated. Though it was only mid afternoon, the darkness of being further into the wood and the persistently threatening snowstorm intensified the steel grey sky.
"Thought you didn't like the dark," Morgan moaned.
"I don't," Reid answered, already crouching down near the edge, gently clearing the snow.
"Well I suggest a maximum of ten minutes then we head back, or you and I will be left alone in the deep dark woods."
Reid nodded his answer, but Morgan could already tell he was engrossed in something. Intrigued Morgan went over to join him.
"So what gives?
At the Larson's cabin, in the footprint that I noticed, I found this," Reid held out a dirty medal, wrapped in a blue latex glove.
Morgan pulled a matching glove from his own pocket, as he reached forward to the spot on the ground where Reid had been clearing the snow. Picking up the identical item, Morgan examined it closer.
"Athletics? Yours the same?"
Reid nodded.
"So we have a signature," Morgan commented, looking more confused than ever, "I'll call Hotch, he and Rossi were looking into the sports centre, this might make sense to them."
Pulling his cell out, Morgan looked up at the sky. The snow had started to fall once more, the large fat flakes landing silently around them.
Morgan sighed deeply, "No signal, we'll have to head back down and call them from the SUV."
The two agents rapidly headed back the way they came.
. . .
Morgan was physically struggling as they reached the first clearing on the way towards the Larson's cabin. Looking towards Reid he wondered how his colleague was fairing. The snow in the clearing was much deeper than that in the wood, through the paths were starting to gather a decent amount of the white stuff. The man-made trails around the complex were designed for maximum light, so the trees offered physical shelter, but not complete protection from the weather.
"Reid, I think we need to consider our options here."
Turning to face the older profiler, Reid looked through the small gap between the top of his purple wool scarf and the bottom of his jacket hood. Coming from Las Vegas, Reid had never been one to 'do cold'. He had barely got use to Quantico's winters over the last eight years.
"What do you suggest?" Reid asked hugging himself a little tighter as the freezing wind rushed through him in the clearing.
Morgan took one look at the empty log cabin they were stood by; raising an eyebrow he looked back at Reid.
"I figure this is preferable to a night in the SUV, even if we get back down the trail, we are going nowhere in this blizzard."
"A blizzard is a violent snowstorm with winds blowing at a minimum speed of 35 mph and visibility of less than one-quarter mile. I'm not sure this fully qualifies yet, though it is hard to accurately judge the wind speed in such a sheltered location," Reid commented as he looked up at the cloud formation above.
Morgan stared opened mouth at him.
"That wasn't an appropriate answer was it?" Reid questions when he saw the look on Morgan's face.
"Just a simple 'I agree' or 'let's continue' would have done."
"I agree."
"Good," Morgan said, making his way up to the cabin door, trying to see if it would open willingly.
It didn't.
Reid stood back, his hands now deep in his jacket's pockets, watching as Morgan smashed his foot into the area of the door lock. Easily the door submitted and Morgan made his way in.
Reid slouched forward to follow him.
. . .
Hotch looked impatiently at his watch as they tried to make their way back towards the station. Prentiss and JJ had reported in and agreed with Hotch that they should head straight back to the hotel, as it was closer to the school then the police station.
The road ahead was deadly, "Anything?"
Rossi looked up from his phone, shaking his head.
"No answer."
"Maybe they are already back at the station; we'll head there and find out what is happening in town with this weather."
Rossi looked over at his friend and colleague.
"You been able to ring Jack yet?"
Hotch paused for a moment before answering, "No."
"Ah," was all he managed in way of a reply, before they both focused back on the black tracks worn into the wet slush in front of them.