Hi Friends!

I'm sorry about all the confusion with the initial posting of this chapter. Here it is!

So I won't waste your time with why it took so long to update. Let's just say that I hate Comcast! (I apologize to anyone out there that works for that company, but they really suck in my area!)

Thanks for all the reviews! I tried to reply to each of you this last time! I love hearing your thoughts, keep 'em coming!

Please forgive any errors. I really didn't take too much time to edit this due to the long wait I put you through.

Enjoy!

Morgan dropped the phone away from his ear after getting Reid's voicemail for the third time that morning.

"What's the matter, honey?" Savannah asked as she curled up on the couch next to him.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and drew her close, "I can't get ahold of Reid."

"Is that odd? It is the weekend after all, maybe he's out doing something."

"I guess…"

"I can hear a 'but' at the end of that sentence."

"But I called his cell phone. He always answers his cell phone," Morgan said.

"He could be in a library or at the movies," she offered, leaning her head on his shoulder.

Derek squeezed her tight, "Yeah, perhaps your right."

"You know, if you're so worried about him, why don't you stop by his house?"

"Maybe I will…I could grab some Thai food and take a movie with me as a peace offering. We could spend the afternoon together, catching up."

"Peace offering? Why do you need a peace offering? What did you do?" she asked, sitting up from their cuddled position.

"I was a little pushy with him last night about a work issue. It wasn't anything too bad, but I told him I would call him today to finish our conversation," he explained.

"So he's probably not answering his phone because he doesn't want to discuss it. Derek, sweetie, you can't force people to open up if they don't want to. You'll end up alienating him and putting a strain on your friendship," Savannah said.

"Yeah, but you don't know Reid. He always keeps things buried inside, secreted away from everyone. It's like he's worried that he'll burden us with his problems or that we'll think he's weak for having one in the first place. If I don't go over there and badger him about it he'll just keep it inside and allow it to fester. Believe me, I've been manipulating him into using me as his sounding board for years."

"Manipulating? I don't like the sound of that."

Derek sighed, "Okay, perhaps manipulating is the wrong word. How about encouraging? Either way, the end result is the same. He gets to share what's on his mind and I get to help a friend."

"I suppose…he is your friend. You know how to help him better than I do. If you say that's what he needs than I trust you. So why don't you go get dressed and head on over there?"

"You sure?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, I didn't want to ruin any plans you might've made for our weekend together," he said sheepishly.

"Oh sweetie, I was just planning on spending this afternoon shopping with you anyways. I can easily manage that on my own. Why don't you go now and we will meet up for a nice dinner? I'll book us a table at Tre Monti," she suggested, getting up from the couch in order to get ready.

Morgan grabbed her by her wrist before she had gotten very far. He yanked her back down onto his lap and cradled her in his arm. "You know that you are the best, right?"

Savannah gave him a megawatt smile and wrapped her hands around his head, pulling him in for a quick kiss, "I know."

Reid was in his bedroom when he heard three loud bangs emanating down his hallway. Without even having to look he knew who would be at his door, Morgan. The man had been incessantly calling him all morning and the genius had been purposefully ignoring the ringing. He wasn't interested in telling Morgan about his issues with Agent West, especially since the man had become so distant lately. He had too much going on with making his relationship with Savannah work that he didn't need to deal with Reid's baggage.

Three more raps sounded down the hall, followed by the other man's voice. "Reid? Open up, I just want to talk."

The genius sat down silently on his bed and hoping the other man would leave when he received no answer to his calls.

Suddenly Morgan's voice came out clearer and closer, "I know you're in here, Reid. I can hear you thinking."

Reid let out a weighty breath as he heaved himself up from the springy mattress. He slowly walked down the hallway, smelling the curried scent usually associated with Thai food. "Why are you in my apartment?" he asked, emerging from the hall.

Derek held up his free hand and showed his friend a keychain hanging from his index finger, "Did you forget that you gave me a spare key?"

"No, I didn't forget. And I also happen to remember that I gave that to you for emergencies only."

"I made a judgment call. This is an emergency."

"How?"

"Well, my best friend is going out of his way to avoid me. If that's not an emergency than I don't know what is. Now, why don't you get some plates out so we can eat this before it gets cold," Morgan said, heading toward the kitchen to unpack the food.

Rolling his eyes, the doctor followed the other agent into the kitchen, knowing that Morgan wasn't going to leave until he got what he came for. He reluctantly opened his cabinet and retrieved a couple of plates. He handed one to Morgan and kept the other for himself, loading it up with some yellow curry and a few Thai spring rolls drizzled with plum sauce. Once his plate was full he shuffled back into his living room and sat down on the couch.

The muscular man plopped down next to him and tucked into his food. The men didn't speak until the last bit of food was wiped clean off of Morgan's plate. Reid, on the other hand, barely touched the free fare. Instead he just pushed around the food with his fork in an effort to make it look like he'd eaten some of it.

"What time did you end up leaving last night?" Morgan asked after he sat his plate on the coffee table.

"Why don't you just cut to the chase and tell me what you really want to know?"

"Okay…I want to know what's going on between you and West?"

"I told you last night that it was nothing," Reid said defensively.

"Yeah and if it wasn't obvious last night, than I hope it is now. I don't believe you," Morgan countered, leaning back into the couch.

Reid stood up and started pacing. "It doesn't matter if you don't believe me. It's none of your business. Now will you just drop it?"

"I would if I thought it was -"

"Was what? Something I could handle?"

"That's not what I was going to say, Reid."

"Wasn't it?"

"No. I was going to say, if you would have let me finish, that I would drop it if I thought it wasn't going to effect the team."

"Oh, you too now?"

"Me too, what?"

"You're questioning whether or not I can function on this team with West around, just like Hotch."

"Like Hotch? What are you – no, you know what, never mind that right now. You're getting it all wrong. I'm thinking of going to Hotch and telling him the West isn't a good fit for our team. I've seen the way he's been antagonizing you and how he can't handle anyone else making meaningful connections on the case. It seems like he's in it for the limelight and not for the victims and their families."

"What does it matter if he's antagonizing me? I can handle it. He's not any worse than the rest of the obtuse minds I've dealt with before," Reid defended.

"It's not that I don't think you can handle it. In fact, we all know that you can take care of yourself. It's just that you shouldn't have too," Morgan said.

"Yeah well…Hotch made it clear last night that West is with us for the duration of his probationary period, barring any sort of grievous faux pas on his part. I'm just going to merely interact with the man on a professional level for the rest of his fifty-five days," Reid said, sitting back down on the couch.

Thinking that his best buddy was finally letting his guard down, the other agent ventured to ask the question he was dying to know the answer to, "So what led to all the friction between you two in the first place? All he said was that you two just didn't hit it off on Monday and since then hostility has been building between you two."

"You asked him?"

"Yeah, I wanted to know and you weren't exactly forthcoming last night."

"That's because –"

"Yeah yeah, we already went over this. It's not my business and you can handle it yourself. Look we're beyond that now. So, what happened on Monday?" Morgan asked again, redirecting the conversation away from his talk with West last night. He didn't want to get into the fact that he threatened the other agent on Reid's behalf. He knew the younger man wouldn't appreciate his protective interference.

Reid leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and cupping his head in his hands. He hadn't envisioned telling anyone about his interactions with Agent West, but Morgan seemed genuinely concerned. He decided to give his friend a chance and clue him in to what the genius had been going through for the past week. "To be honest, I really don't know. We were fine throughout most of the day on Monday, but after I got back from dinner with you he got really hostile."

"Like how?"

The genius swallowed down the lump in his throat. He hated sharing experiences that would make him seem weak or vulnerable in another's sight. "Well, on the plane to Miami –"

The profiler's story was abruptly cut off by Barry White's bass voice singing "Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Babe."

The black man jumped at the sound and yanked his cellphone out of his pocket. He didn't need to look at the screen to know that Savannah was calling him. He would have ignored it but he knew his girl must have a good reason for interrupting him or else she wouldn't have called. "Hold that thought, Pretty Boy. I've gotta take this."

He stood up and walked over to the window, "Babe?"

Reid watched as the man tried to calm the woman on the other end of the line. Something seemed to be wrong with her car and Morgan kept telling her to call a towing service. The doctor, sensing that his friend's advice was going unheeded, wasn't surprised when the other agent hung up the phone with a big sigh.

"Uh…I'm sorry man but I've gotta go. Savannah hit a pot hole and flattened two of her tires. She doesn't want to call a tow truck and pay their astronomical prices. So, I need to go change them and take her my spare. Look, what are you doing later? I could come back and we can finish our conversation then," Morgan asked earnestly.

Realizing that he had been pushed to the backburner once again, Reid bound up his feelings of disappointment and rejection up tight and said, "I can't later. I've got a paper due on Monday that I need to finish up. Perhaps some other time."

"Are you sure?" the other agent asked, fully aware that his friend was pulling back into himself.

Reid gave him a watery smile, "Yeah, I'm sure. Go help Savannah. She needs you."

Morgan opened his mouth, wanting to remark that his friend needed him too, but decided to let it go. He had already destroyed his opportunity to get the kid to open up and there was no fixing it now. "Alright then. I'll see you Monday," he called before he let himself out the door, locking it behind him.

"See ya," came the weak response from the forlorn man curled up on the couch.

Damien strolled off the elevator on Monday morning whistling a song he just heard on the radio called "God's Gift." It was a catchy tune and the words seemed to speak to him. In his hand he had a coffee tray with two grande mugs nestled snuggly in the cardboard confines.

He was fifteen minutes late due to his caffeinated excursion but he didn't mind. It would mean that the rest of the team would be in the office already and they would see him perform his peace offering.

The agent pulled the glass doors open and allowed a small grin to paint his face. He was totally going to have an audience due to the fact that most of his teammates were gathered around Reid's desk.

He inconspicuously walked over to his desk and set down the coffee. "Morning guys! What's up?"

Reid, who was staring at a crossword puzzle, didn't respond to the greeting. In fact, none of the profilers acknowledged his presence. They all seemed captivated by watching the boy work on the classic brainteaser. It wasn't until the younger man set down his pen on the desk and JJ stopped the timer that they all broke free from their trance.

"How long was that?"

The blonde shook her head and said, "Sorry Spence, it took you four minutes and fifty-five seconds."

"I really thought I had it that time," he said, dumping the completed puzzle in the garbage next to his desk.

"Don't worry Boy Wonder, I'll bring you another one next week," Garcia said. "You'll beat your record next time."

He massaged his eyes, not deigning to respond to the woman's encouragement.

"Alright, well I guess it's time to actually get to work," Rossi commented, clapping Reid's shoulder before he made his way back to his office.

"Yeah, I've got at least two piles sitting on my desk awaiting my expertise," Morgan laughed, his eyes catching Damien's as he turned to go.

The two woman were about to wander away, taking West's chances of having witnesses with them, when he pulled the extra cup of coffee out of the holder and stretched it out toward the genius. "Hey man. I picked you up a cup of joe on my way in this morning."

Surprised, Reid eyed the proffered beverage. He raised his eyebrow and turned a confused gaze towards the man.

Noticing the skeptical look on the other man he shook the cup, "Look, it's not poisoned. In fact, I think you'll be surprised. Morgan told me how you take it, a little bit of cream and plenty of sugar."

Still suspicious, Reid reached out and took the cup. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you want to know how I take my coffee? Why are you buying me coffee? Take your pick."

"Oh…well, I realized that we may have gotten off on the wrong foot and I want to extend an olive branch…or rather a coffee cup," he said good-naturedly.

"Um…alright," the profiler said, taking a sip of the beverage. He licked his lips after the first drink and said, "Hmmm, it's just right. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Damien decided he had done enough talking and it was time to cease the mushy apology shit. He sat down at his desk and glanced around the bullpen. It wasn't hard to see that the other profilers had decided to stop to take in the interaction. The girls were peaking around the corner leading to Garcia's office while Rossi and Hotch were perched on the upper level acting like they were engrossed in a conversation. Morgan, on the other hand, wasn't being discrete at all. He was standing by the stairs with his arms cross in front of his chest. Derek caught his eyes and gave him a small nod of approval before turning and walking back to his office. A feeling of triumph ran through West at that recognition and he silently reveled at his success.

The probationary agent refocused his attention back to his desk, getting ready to tackle his first file, when Hotch's voice called out, "Agent West, a word in my office."

Damien looked up at his fearless leader and said, "Of course, sir."

He shut the ominous oak door behind him and turned toward his supervisor. Hotch was seated in his leather chair with his eyes glued to Damien, as if memorizing every move the man made in order to use it against him later.

"Take a seat," the man said, gesturing at the chair in front of his desk.

Damien silently sat down and crossed his legs.

"I wanted to sit down with you this morning and discuss your progress thus far," Agent Hotchner said, tenting his fingers.

"Sir?"

"I like to keep you updated on my observations and make sure we are on the same page in regards to your growth and position on this team. We will be meeting like this on a biweekly basis from here on out."

"Yes, sir."

Hotchner sat back and began, "So far you have proven yourself proficient and adept at doing consultations. I have looked over each one that you turned in last week and pretty much agreed with all of your conclusions. Of course, there were some things that you missed, as you saw on the notes I left you, but overall you are quite insightful and intuitive when it comes to profiling. Additionally, you were an integral part of the team in Miami, making that connection between the D.J.s and the bachelorette parties. You connection was the lead we needed to guide us toward ultimately apprehending the unsub."

Damien felt a surge of confidence flow through his veins. It seemed as if his efforts were being seen by the right people and getting him the notice he deserved.

"So, Agent West, what are your feelings about how last week went?"

The probationary agent, too busy preening under the praise, missed his superior's question. "I'm sorry. What was that?"

Agent Hotchner cleared his throat and restated his inquiry, "I was hoping to hear your thoughts pertaining to your first week with the team."

West straightened up, surprised at the request. "Oh…well, sir…I felt like last week was very successful. I found doing consultations both interesting and invigorating. It felt good to give local police precincts the help they needed to guide them into arresting their unsubs. And I really enjoyed going out into the field and putting a living breathing profile into action. It was amazing how working together with the team led us to finding the unsub. Overall, I couldn't have imagined a better week."

Hotch nodded his approval at the conclusion to the man's speech. "This week you will continue working on consultations. I want you to make it your goal to start going deeper with your descriptions. You might find a trip down to archives useful in helping you write up any complex consults. There are plenty of closed cases down there with useful insights. They can also help give you a new perspective if you find yourself stuck. Furthermore, when we go out in the field I want you to refine your relations with the local law enforcement and focus on teamwork."

The feelings of victory that Damien had felt moments ago quickly drained out of his system, "Teamwork?"

The supervisory special agent's eyes narrowed at the question. "Yes. As of right now the place that you need to make your biggest improvement is inter-team relations. In particular, you seem to be struggling when working with Dr. Reid. Now, I'm not telling you that you two need to become friends. This is a job not a social experiment. What I am saying is that I've noticed some clear tension between the two of you and it hampered our last case. Whatever is going on needs to be resolved, because in the end it will be you and not Dr. Reid that leaves this team if the conflict continues. Do I make myself clear?"

The probationary agent shifted in his seat in discomfort. This was not what he expected after the glowing praise he had received earlier. "I…uh…yes, sir. I understand and I agree with you and your thoughts regarding Dr. Reid and myself. Therefore, I have already started to put forth an effort to bury the hatchet with the young man. Hopefully we won't have to discuss this again," he said confidently.

"Good. Now, Garcia has some new cases for you to get started on. Please remember to continue running your completed consultations by Agent Rossi or myself for approval before you send them out."

Realizing that he had been dismissed, West stood up and started making his way to the door. His hand was in mid-turn of the knob when Hotch's voice cut through the room.

"Oh, and Agent West there is just one more thing." Behind him West could hear the leather chair creak as Hotch leaned forward. "If I ever find any concrete proof that you tampered with the case in Miami or if I even think that you are purposefully impairing another investigation I will make sure you lose your badge. That is all."

West's face flushed in embarrassment upon the completion of his dressing down. Wordlessly, he flung the door open and walked out of the office, intent on putting space between him and his superior. All feelings of pride and contentment from the initial part of the meeting had flown out the window and were replaced with humiliation and shame. He knew then that any ground he had made this past week was lost due to his stupidity.

The angered man stomped his way back down into the bullpen and straight to his desk. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, mainly focusing on where he went wrong in Miami. As he thought long and hard about it he realized that he had been way too obvious with his scheme and that this team of profilers had definitely lived up to their reputation. If he wanted to carve out a niche for himself on this team he wasn't going to be able to do it by transparently attacking one of their own.

West found his gaze wandering over to the boy on the other side of the divider. The kid was hunched over some file vigorously writing notes in the margins. The right corner of his lip was currently being worried between his teeth as his sinuous hand flew down the page. From this angle the younger man seemed so vulnerable and weak, a perfect target.

So what to do?

He continued to ruminate on the agent for a few more minutes before he realized that his initial plan of showing up the other agent was still a good one. For what better way to prove his worth than to show the profilers that he was someone they could count on when their Jack of All Trades is out of commission?

Damien decided then and there that he needed to stay the course and continue to usurp the boy's position on the team. The only thing that he needed to change was his way of going about it. From here on out he was going to have to be more subtle and devious. He would take the kid unaware and make sure that any wrongdoing wasn't easily traced back to him. Thank God that he had already started to make peace with the annoying genius this morning. His efforts seemed to put the rest of the team at ease and perhaps Hotch might not keep such a keen eye on his interactions with the brat. Besides, after his talk with Morgan on Friday night he had known that his trickery needed to be more discrete. This was just the kick in the ass he needed to reevaluate his methods and refine his plan.

Smiling at his insightful realizations, the crafty man reached forth and grabbed a file off of the pile in front of him. It was time to get to work.