Bishop to Rook, Part 2 Knight to Pawn
Gideon had followed the Chesapeake Slasher case with hawk eyes, and two days after his impromptu visit to a particular hotel bar in Maryland, he was back in his cabin prepping for a glamorous pasta dish with a lemon sauce to compliment the flour-fried chicken, waiting for the moment when Reid would cross the threshold and converse about his current situation.
As a father figure, he did not approve of Hotch muscling in on Reid, age difference aside, the propriety of a straight man with a son convincing his subordinate that said subordinate is in love with his boss and then expect him to function at his job- they hadn't had that kind of fiasco since the original BAU profilers collared one Mr. David Rossi. Casanovas got people killed, and while it's true that Rossi himself never actually caused any of his lovers to die, the same could not be said about Hotch. How many months was it since Haley was killed by an unsub anyway? It was certainly within two years. How could he grieve so little for his own wife? Mother of his own child? Killed in the Hotchner home, and yet he was already able to seduce a member of his team! He wondered if Reid realized he was being used, and if that was part of the problem.
Reid constantly sought out approval, in his absence, the wake of Reid's need to feel that he was a part of something could easily have been all that Hotch needed to grasp onto, cap-sizing both intelligent men's judgment and convince them to proceed with one of the FBI's biggest taboos.
Fraternization with your friend could get you killed. He wondered if anyone had ever taken the time to explain propriety of romance to Reid. There was a good possibility that this fundamental lesson was lacking. Who would have thought the bashful genius who accompanied JJ to a Redskins game to switching teams and then going for his superior of all people?
Gideon refused to blame himself for this, there had to be a deep-seeded root cause other than his leaving. After all, people left the bureau all the time, there's no way his albeit abrupt departure could have the cascade effect of potentially destroying his own protégé's career. Maybe it was Henkel, maybe the drugs… or maybe it was Elle leaving, or maybe Rossi coming in. Right! Rossi! That son of a bitch practically preached free-love and grab-ass.
He was the bad influence, on both Reid and Hotch, Rossi had been Hotch's mentor back in the day, maybe that infectious attitude really did originate from him. It was much more likely that a change in philosophies would result in a change of policies. He almost missed the sound of Reid's beat-up car pulling up the gravel path, he fixed the plates, garnishing them with garlic salt in a quaint shaker. As per the unspoken order, Reid had come alone. As he should have. Gideon had to have a thorough discussion about this destructive behavior, and if by some strange fluke reason went out the window… well, Gideon had always been more lax on Reid about physical prowess than say, Morgan.
Gideon couldn't help but examine Reid and all the cues his body language spoke of, defensive posturing begrudgingly told of casual interest into his insights, or maybe just about Jason's well-being, but he was hoping for the former more so. His outfit was different than usual, it was higher fashion. It struck him that Reid was now dressing to impress someone, and by no means was that someone him. No, it was obviously for his boss Hotch, reminding him of just how hard his wayward pupil had fallen.
Obvious cues like that, and the time it takes to liquidate a wardrobe, the relationship had to be going on behind closed doors for months, and the rest of the BAU… had they not picked up on it? Were they all that rusty? How were they even catching serial killers still? Or maybe they knew and were apathetic, or even more damning optimistic about this…? Gideon's lower lip stuck out just a bit more as he thought of the possibilities.
"I'm not staying long. I have other plans for tonight." Reid insisted, "I don't even know why I'm here to justify this to you."
"Like hell you don't know why. You know that because it even needs justification that it isn't inherently right."
"To you." Reid corrected crisply. "It isn't inherently right to you, and why I'm admitting this after the way you left… so help me… had you not left the way you did, I might have sought your approval in this too, you meant something to me. You were a surrogate father to me."
Gideon listened to the past-participles as they fell off Reid's tongue, "Those aren't as past-tense as you're pretending. You are here after all."
"You threatened to go to our supervisor, you knew damn well I'd come here." Reid huffed.
"And I explained to Hotch that I wouldn't really, but if it's obvious to me, how long do you think it'll take the big-wigs to notice it too?"
"Let's see, what was it, 30 years of field-work as a profiler… versus the office bureaucrats that don't see me in the field or interacting with my team… hmm… tough one. I'll give them a day of being hyper-vigilant and put that at 5 months after I retire that a rumor was going around, and saying Hotch would be more likely to retire before I do, and thus quash the rumors' material and thus basis… I'll side with a 'they won't notice'."
"Sit down, let me get you something to drink." Gideon offered.
"No thanks, I already told you I have plans for later."
"I cooked dinner, it would be a waste not to at least have some."
"Hotch and I have dinner plans, I'm just here to tell you he makes me happy. As a friend you should want this for the two of us."
"For you to both commit career suicide?" He slid on a glove to handle the chilled wine, Reid gave him a bewildered look. "This red is the same age as you, you know. It's a good wine. You should try it, it's not as strong as brandy, but then again, that's why it's more flavorful."
"I can't stay, Gideon." Gideon pulled the bottle out of the ice, looking at it fondly.
"No, I suppose you can't." That was the last thing Reid really perceived at regular processing speed, next he knew, a bottle was thrown past him as a gloved hand forced itself against his mouth and nose compromising his airways. What he could tell from the lingering air was that the fruity smell he perceived was not in fact that of wine, but of diether.
After about two minutes of thrashing to try to get distance between the two of them, Reid was down onto his good knee, his bad knee falling beneath him, and then he was out, unconscious. He just hoped Aaron realized something was off when he didn't show later on.
With a crick in his neck, Dr. Spencer Reid was acutely aware that he had 'fallen asleep in the car', his own car betraying him as it moved further in directions unknown to him until he was brought to a quiet patch of wooded acres, the foliage too thick to make it possible to even find his latitude via his astral bearings. He narrowed his eyes, enraged. This was crossing a line, not one hashed off in the sand, either. This was a very pronounced, clearly articulated line inside the federal laws. No hand-waving could be done about being forcibly taken from location A via drugging to location B against will to not be kidnapping. He cursed his luck, loudly. In fact, he even did a sock-check… nope, they weren't matching. Must be a fluke.
"What the hell are you doing, Gideon?" Reid asked as he became aware of his predicament.
"Officially? Taking you camping spontaneously." He silently pondered for a moment before venturing, "These sort of outings are usually how people connect to their wayward kin."
Reid didn't look impressed, "You realize you could go for prison for this. For a long, long time… Jason, what the hell are you doing?"
"I already told you."
"Then what are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking about how this relationship will ruin your life one way or another!" He growled, "I care about you, you're like a son to me… I don't want to see you get hurt or destroyed by some reckless youthful indiscretion! On the one hand, if it fails, the team won't function, one of you will have to transfer, not to mention the risks you offer to each other and the safety of your entire team. If it doesn't fail, there's the constant risk of being caught, the taboo of being with an older man for crying out loud, how many negative labels are you trying to fix to yourself, and there's the favoritism and resentment that goes with it!"
"Gideon, do you know how long Hotch and I have been together?" Reid asked, tempered, it didn't take a profiler to realize he was about to strike out with the same prowess of a cobra. Methodical, deadly, and beautiful.
He waited for the head nod, "I suspect it's around 4 months."
Reid smiled, "There's a reason you retired, Gideon." At this, Jason looked puzzled. "We've been fucking since after Haley petitioned for a divorce, we've been having get-togethers since Hotch told me to 'catch a movie'."
To anyone else, that would have sounded like Hotch initiating a date, to Jason Gideon, Aaron Hotchner, Penelope Garcia and Dr. Spencer Reid, that phrase specifically meant to go to an NA meeting for Beltway Cops.
"Those were events as friends." Gideon trumpeted.
"Like hell they were! I never did those sort of things with my friends! That's just what we wanted you guys to think. You think with my eidetic memory I can't put together a timeline about when and what my friends would be willing to hang out and when and what would trigger them to back down within a 99.998% accuracy?"
"When did Haley leave him?"
"She checked out of that marriage long before Hotch and I were messing around. I never pointed out the signs of her cheating on him, but I didn't want to insult his intelligence. Everyone at the office saw it, the change right around the time with the Fisher King, after that delivery she started coming in less and less, his phone called fewer times during a case, and by the time the Henkel case started, she was fucking three separate men. For the record, Hotch was celibate by that point. And before you even dare accuse me of ruining a marriage, realize that everything Hotch did was of his volition. I worked around his schedule and he chose it too. We both want this and are happy."
"Your sense of happiness is cheap. Don't you want to have children of your own? Don't you want to pass on that brilliant mind of yours, or at least potentially do so?"
"Why does everyone seem to think I want to play Russian Roulette with a child's life just because I'm smart? My mother is a schizophrenic, I have deep-seeded trust issues with father figures, which is growing nicely thank you, and the one relationship in my life that makes me happiest… is with a man with a lovely son whom I am proud to have a hand in raising. That's enough for me, and, if it ever wasn't enough- we'd be able to adopt."
"Really, adopt? And do you know the exact statistic of a single male applying for adoption? Because I can assure you, in the eyes of Virginia, DC, Maryland, and every state even remotely close to where you live, that's what you're considered… you really think that would be successful? And with your job?"
"You've never even considered private adoptions, have you?" Reid smiled snarkily, at that moment he felt his phone vibrate and hoped to all hopes that Gideon didn't notice him flinch, or maybe Gideon wanted this confrontation to end smoothly and avoid sticky legal ramifications. He was certain Gideon hadn't made the connection that today wasn't just a date, it was an anniversary. This was the fourth year Hotch and Reid had actually been together.
Gideon extended his hand. "I know he's calling you. Hand over the phone."
Reid almost growled, "Make me."
Gideon just gave him a tempered, disconcerted look of a person who clearly didn't approve of the rebellious streak in his child, of course, Reid wasn't his child and didn't give a rat's ass if he approved or not. He sighed and fished into Reid's pocket for it, Reid swatted at his hand.
"Knock it off Gideon! This has gone way past too far. Bring me back now, I don't file the felony charges, can't make the same promise for Hotch, but if you keep walking this line you know where this leads."
Gideon's eyes looked sad as he withdrew a roll of duct-tape. Reid's eyes looked like saucers as he gaped.
"You're kidding me…"
"Give me the phone, I really don't have the intentions of harming you, but I need you to listen to me on this one, Reid."
"I swear to god I should have realized you snapped… who the hell breaks into a hotel room casually?" Reid began backing off, still trying to apply reason, he realized this was a forgotten cause before turning around and taking off, Gideon was suddenly on top of him, pinning his tumbling form to the ground. He felt his chin contact the earth forcefully and unpleasantly, it gave him a nice view of the stars, too bad they weren't the kind he could map.
Wrestling Reid's injured and uninjured arm behind him with the skill-set and patience of a well-seasoned FBI agent, Gideon continued to bind him careful not to apply unnecessary pressure, and to avoid any pain possible in direction proportion. He quickly searched Reid, took his cell phone, badge and gun and locked them into the car glove-box, rolled the windows up to leave them vented with two inches all the way around and then slid the keys inside said venting before taking Reid by the meat of his upper, uninjured, arm and walking him toward a decent-sized creek with a questionable looking motorboat docked on the banks. "Hop in."
"I'd rather not." Reid informed, again the defiant air was enveloping him. He didn't know this river, he didn't know how deep he was going to be taken and in whatever direction, even with a full moon, which tonight wasn't, the tree coverage made these things impossible for him to know visually. The only clues he had were the time he spent unconscious from ether applied properly was within an hour, the trees looked to be those native to northern Virginia, West Virginia and Maryland, and that he was getting further and further from his phone, in a west-northwest direction, thanks to the moss indicators on the north side of the tree trunks.
Aaron Hotchner returned the unopened bottle of champagne and the promissory ring-box into his pocket as he watched his phone click over to Spencer's voice mail again. This marked the ninth time, and the third hour he was late. Something was wrong and he needed to find out what, immediately.
He drew a heralding breath and dialed Garcia. By appearances, he knew his team was aware of his and Reid's relationship, though neither had technically outted themselves, they had come to their conclusions that in a room full of Profilers, two things were true, firstly privacy was limited and thus preserved with tooth and talon, and secondly that any worthwhile profiler saw through the damn hazy mask and hand-waving explanations to know full well they were dating. Seriously, who would otherwise call in to have a matchsies day where both men wore purple ties? Junior High School Girls did not count in that matter. That had been the first time they consciously hinted at it, it was subtle, tested the waters nicely, and had sent Rossi into Hotch's office to ask about whether or not he was feeling well. Dave never envisioned Hotch as the sort to even own a purple tie. He blamed it on Easter and Haley and was immediately reminded that it was November and he was divorced.
"Garcia…"
"Oracle of All Things Knowing, Thinking, and Spanking… Speak oh brave mortal."
"I need you to locate Reid for me. He isn't answering his cell."
"Sir? Do we have a case…?"
Hotch rolled his tongue over his mouth, "No, Reid was supposed to contact me about something pertaining to the office and failed to report in, I've been trying his phone for the course of three hours with no luck."
"Oh… Reid isn't the sort to forget important anniversaries, or even tiny anniversaries…" Garcia mentioned as she tapped away on her keypad procuring results, "Huh, that's …weird. Were you two planning on going camping?"
Hotch's eyebrow shot up in a clear indicator that things weren't right, "Of course not, can you imagine Reid enjoying camping…? In the PG setting, Garcia. Practicality and fantasy are two very different things." He reminded her out of obligation.
"Right, boss-man. I remember one time Morgan and I went… oh never mind, huh, double weird!"
"What is?" Hotch grabbed his keys and left money on the table for the restaurant, he hadn't had more than breadsticks, but he paid for the bottle of champagne unopened and asked for them to hold it aside for him. He was outside as she continued.
"He's in the middle of nowhere, but there's another cell signal that's active. That's weird, since that's not a popular spot. In fact, most people don't even get signal there."
"Did you find out who that number belongs to?"
"Two guesses, sir, and here's your hint- the only phones that can even pick up that signal are military or federal issued."
"…Gideon." He gripped the phone tightly, angrily.
"Yes. Gideon, sir. Now, may I ask why Gideon took Reid camping on your anniversary?"
Hotch could have pierced her with his eyes had he actually been looking at her, annoyed by her curiosity especially when his own 'curiosity' was cued for wanting more information.
"He came to Maryland, the other day and confronted Reid in the bar. Send me Gideon's position."
"Sure thing, done and…" after a few moments clicking, Hotch felt his phone vibrate signaling an incoming email, "done."
"One more thing, Garcia."
"Sure thing… name it?"
"Call the team and have them on stand-by."
TBC.