Author's Note: puh-LEASE tell me that all of y'all had a better Christmas than I did? 'Cuz mine was pretty superb, and I'm hoping that everyone else's seasons were so full of balloons and joy!

Okay, so, some news . . . this chapter literally ensconces the last part of my dream I remember before waking up. I feel like there was something more, and I know I'm not going to leave the story like this, but . . . well, that's just it. I have to make up some sort of ending, and it's coming soon. Maybe a few more chapters . . . I wanna get back to my "Criminal Hereos" sometime in January, too . . . Funzies.

Anyhoo . . . Thank you several metric tons to the loyal few who continue to leave their thoughts and opinions in the reviews. I'm glad that people seem to be okay with the darker tones of this story, and as always, welcome the few who have pointed out errors. Fear not, the spelling has been FIXED.

Thanks for making this last Tuesday of the New Year so bloody fantastic.

Warnings: This fic contains no relevant spoilers that I can see. However, there is going to be some mild violence, much language, and angst as far as the eye can see. And, for that matter, prepare yourselves for a little OOC-ness. I guess.

Disclaimer: The amount of stuff I own grows ever larger and more terrifying. But anything resembling Criminal Minds as a whole has yet to be found. Stupid CBS with their 'rights' and 'contracts.' Grr.

I love reading reviews, but I know people hate writing them. The decision, my lovelies, is yours.

Do enjoy!

Chapter Eight:

Time Once More

Reid stood nervously outside of one of the BAU's many interrogation cells, refusing to look inside just yet. He was leaning against the door, picking at his fingernails and trying to keep his mind focused on the profile, instead of the million other thoughts that were running through his head, vying for his attention.

Thoughts that concerned the other two men waiting outside in the hallway, having a private conversation before the interview with Mason Randall would commence.

He had been watching Hotch and Morgan for the past few minutes, attempting to profile their conversation from the body language; so far, though, both men were proving to be quite good at what they did, and Reid was having trouble reading a thing.

Hotch was tense, that much was obvious; even up in his office when he had allowed Reid a few moments of vulnerability before he could collect himself, the other man's body had been stiff with tension, his voice hoarse as he asked Reid again and again if he was okay. Reid frowned slightly, concentrating. Hotch was practically oozing the protective signal, defensive mode; it was the same way he looked whenever he brought Jack into work. Only . . . even more so, if that was possible.

Reid shook his head, and turned his attention to the other man conversing with his boss.

Morgan's entire frame was locked down; everything from his tightly shut mouth and clenched hands and shoulders screamed to leave him alone. And yet, standing so close with their superior and obviously not getting the personal space he was in need of, Morgan still seemed to be retaining his calm.

As if feeling the gaze upon him, Morgan's eyes shot over, and met with Reid's.

A sharp pang of heat, fear, and familiarity piercing his gut, Reid instantly looked away, fighting not to blush as he once again collected his thoughts.

Another moment later, the door to the anteroom swung open, and the rest of the BAU team filed in. Emily, Rossi, and Hotch immediately went to stand in front of the large interrogation window, observing their suspect. JJ and Garcia went by Reid, each giving him encouraging smiles. Morgan stood alone in the center of the room, trying to meet Spencer's eyes – but the younger man forced himself not to look up.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Hotch spoke. "Morgan, Reid –do you have any strategy?"

Both men looked at each other, neither one wanting to be the first to speak. Reid's eyes were appraising, while Morgan was diminutive.

After a moment, the latter opened his mouth.

"We were thinking," he started cautiously, eyes never leaving Reid's as though seeking permission to even speak, "of a sort of opposites-attract guise. Good cop, bad cop, maybe."

Hotch nodded, not missing the heavy way in which two of his subordinates were regarding one another.

"I was going to try and play the more aggressive role, and make sure Randall knows that I'm there for business only." Morgan paused. "Reid, was, ah . . ." he swallowed, suddenly unable to continue.

Of course, Reid was no novice at this, and he had long-ago seen exactly where this plan was heading. He picked up where his coworker left off.

"I look a lot like Randall's victims," he said simply, ignoring the horrified looks from JJ and Garcia. He pushed himself off of the wall, and tried to stand as tall as his words.

"I'm unimposing, quiet, and clearly not the obvious alpha-male like Morgan – thus, I'd make a much better proverbial 'good cop' than he would. What we were thinking," he continued softly, eyes whispering towards Morgan for a brief second before again facing the door, "was that I could go in and, ah . . . be a distraction."

Morgan seemed to have found his voice again. "If he's paying more attention to Reid than to me, he won't be as focused on the interview, and he can slip up."

Hotch nodded. "The profile says that Mason would bury all of the kids he abducted in one spot so that he could visit them as often as possible. It makes sense – if he gives us one clue, we can find them all." Thinking for a moment, the Unit Chief turned again towards the team's genius.

"Reid?"

When the young man glanced up, startled by his almost-tender voice, Hotch continued, concern audible in every word. "Are you going to be okay with this?'

Though he didn't say it, Reid knew that Hotch was asking about more than pretending to be more docile just to get the attentions of an unsub; he also meant Will you be okay working with Derek?

And, in the end, it didn't matter how he really felt, because the answer to both questions was the same.

Reid forced a tired smile onto his face, and shrugged his shoulders, looking Hotch square in the eye. "I'm fine."

He didn't really have a choice, did he?

Slipping somewhat easily into agent-mode, it was Morgan who entered the room first, stalking in like a hunter before prey and seating himself roughly before Reid had even had time to catch the swinging door behind him.

Mason Randall. Almost exactly the type of guy someone would expect to see in jail for the crimes with which he was charged; tall, thin, with a narrow face surrounded by dank, greasy curls, he was far from handsome, and even more far from youthful. The man was in his late fifties, and charged with the abduction and murder of eight separate children.

Even though they were sure it was almost twenty.

Morgan had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from growling. One word. All they needed was a single word, and they would be able to get the rest of the bodies, and have enough proof to send Mason to the deepest, darkest part of prison for the rest of his life.

He looked at the man – if one were generous enough to call him that – before him, trying to control his seething temper. Not that it was getting any easier, with the way Mason was ignoring his gaze and had instead focused entirely on Reid, his interest alerted and a sinister smirk crossing his features.

"Randall," Morgan started, feeling a pulse of temper where there shouldn't have been one.

"Hmm?" The convict responded, his gaze still uncomfortably keen on Reid. The genius shifted in his chair, obviously feeling smothered, and the protective instinct that had grown so much stronger since their relationship had begun surged in Morgan.

His voice was tight, clipped. "You know why we're here."

Mason's eyes flickered to his for just a moment. "To wish me a good morning?" He snorted, eyeing Morgan in disgust before again focusing on Spencer. As an afterthought, he added, "Although . . . a few minutes alone with this one would make the day so much brighter." He smiled. "What's your name, pretty boy?"

Reid, in keeping with the part he was supposed to playing, said nothing. And while Morgan could tell some of his lack of response was from acting, he could also see the nervous set of Reid's shoulders, the tense way in which his hands were gripping his arms as he crossed them.

Resisting the urge to reassure his best friend and more, Morgan allowed a scowl to pass his face, and when he spoke his voice was low, tight with anger.
"He doesn't have a name, Randall. It's just you and me in here; so why don't we have a little chat?"

"Such poor manners," Mason tsk'ed, his eyes never leaving their target. "You would think, with such a beauty here before us, Agent Morgan, that you could at least try to act like a gentleman."

Morgan stiffened. "Back off. Now."

Smiling victoriously, Mason continued to speak in his soft, arrogant tone. "He doesn't sound like he knows how to treat you, pretty boy." He paused, licking his lips in delight when Reid squirmed uncomfortably, and leaned in even closer, baring his teeth.
"I would know exactly how to treat you."

"You mean by abducting him?" Morgan cut in, unable to watch the intimidation-play going on any longer. Underneath the table, his hands clenched into fists.

At last, Mason turned away from Reid and looked at Morgan, that sickening smile on his face. "Go on," he said, his tone infuriatingly light, jovial.

"You abduct them – kids, I mean," Morgan stated, sparing a second's glance at Spencer before returning to the situation at hand. "Kidnap them, keep them for days. Talk to them. Beat them." He swallowed, his voice audibly constricting as he continued, "You rape them."

Mason nodded along with everything as Morgan spoke, his fascinated gaze unwavering. "Yes, yes I do, Agent. Apparently, you don't think it was as much fun as I did."

Morgan's stomach turned. He shook his head, a tough look still on his face, but insides churning with nausea. "I also didn't think evil had such a vile face."

Mason hissed, almost affronted by the insult. Encouraged by his reaction, Morgan continued, "Of course, it's only made more hideous by the things you did."

"The things I did," Mason spat, trying the words on his tongue. "I did to them what was done to me, Agent. Isn't that the way the world is going, around and around, unstopping, never changing, the same bad things happening to people who will do bad things to other people?" He paused, and somehow, had managed to find his grin again. "I bet you've done some naughty things to innocent people, right, Agent?" Again, his eyes flickered towards Reid, and Morgan couldn't help the fury that twisted his gut, burning like a hot knife.

"You sick son of a bitch," Morgan snarled, only to feel a hand on his thigh – a very light touch, as though afraid he might lash out. Surprised, Morgan let his eyes shoot to Reid for just a heartbeat, and drank in the other man's impassive appearance.

His sweet, kind, soft lover met his gaze coolly, his eyes flickering with compassion. Spencer gave the tiniest shake of his head.

Under the table, invisible to Mason, Reid's hands rubbed a small circle into Morgan's skin, affectionate, steady. Calming.

Not worth it. Never.

It was as if he radiated peace. As if he was sharing it, spreading the feeling all around him in a blanket of love.

Taking in a deep breath, Morgan turned back to their unsub, and met his infuriating grin with a cold look.

"Not everyone who suffers as a child grows up to hurt others, Randall." He was proud of the way his voice didn't catch in his throat this time.

Mason, apparently, didn't notice. Or didn't care.

The man's eyes lit up, and he leaned over the table, uncomfortably close to Morgan. "Oh. Oh-ho-ho! Do you say that because you were hurt as a child, Agent? Were you abducted? Beaten?" He leaned in closer still. "Mo-les-ted?"

Seeing Morgan's ever-so-slight wince at that, Mason knew he had won. He hovered over the table, every fiber of his being tense with excitement.

"Big, bad FBI agent was abused as a child, and now he hunts bad nasty people so that they can't be so bad and nasty anymore, is that it?" he chuckled dryly. "But none of his friends know that he's just as filthy and used as the little kids he tries to save. That he's a victim. That he tries to overcompensate his feelings of uselessness by fucking someone half his age."

Unconsciously, Morgan's eyes again flickered towards his lover, and Mason, of course, noticed.

"You call me vile, but you're doing the exact same thing yourself, Agent. And judging from those bruises the pretty boy's trying to hide, you're not being as nice about it as I am. At least I put them out of their misery at some point."

Mason turned his body fully, effectively shutting Morgan out as he stared at Reid instead. "Tell me, gorgeous; do you wanna be put out of your misery?"

His hand shot out, and was gripping Reid's collarbone before either of the BAU man could so much as blink. Reid flinched openly at the foreign, aggressive touch, and tried to pull away – but it was useless. Mason's fingers tightened roughly, and he jerked, half-pulling the genius across the table, until he was face-to-face with their prisoner, so close that their breath was mingling.

"Want me to make sure Mr. Big-Bad-FBI-Guy can't hurt you any more, darling? I can end it right now, walk out with you in my arms, go to my cabin, and we'll never have to see another soul again. Just you, me, and all eternity, Beautiful."

His hands began to squeeze, and Reid's own arms shot out, searching for anything to grip, scrabbling in his desperation.

As it happened, he found purchase on the solid form of one Derek Morgan, standing next to him.

For a few seconds that felt like an eternity, Reid ripped his eyes away from the black, soulless depths of Mason Randall, and looked at Derek instead. And the older man found he couldn't look away.

The pain reflected in those hazel orbs, the fear . . . the pleading, agony of emotion after haphazard emotion . . .

He shuddered.

It was the same look Reid had given him last night.

And this time, he was going to do something about it.

Author's Endnote: Buhm-buhm-BAHHH.