Disclaimer: Criminal Minds and all its associated characters are property to CBS and no profit is being made from this story.
Chapter Two: Between Insanity and Genius
'The distance between insanity and genius is measured only by success.' –Bruce Feirstein
"God Damn it!" the man cursed loudly, slamming his fist against the desk, hard enough to lurch the keyboard upward. But it didn't matter. His search revealed nothing. Out of every medical record he had on his computer, everyone he had access to, not a single person fit the requirements.
Their physique was wrong.
Their personality was wrong.
Or they were just like the other patients he had- which wasn't what he needed.
Standing up and pacing around his office in frustration, he began stroking his chin in contemplation. He could move his search somewhere else- find another location where he might find more patients more suited for his studies. But he would have to start all over again. Have to work for a new hospital to get access to new records. And in this area, he would need to move in order to have a decent commute.
He growled in frustration.
It just wouldn't work.
His studies were over.
xXx
"Does it suit you, Agent Morgan?" Varney asked, watching as the tall, dark-skinned man surveyed the vehicle, a black Mazda. After a second, he shrugged in response and motioned for Reid to come over. As the young man approached, Morgan told Varney it was acceptable.
"It's not what I'm used to, but it'll work," he finished saying as Reid finally joined his side.
Turning to his teammate, he said, "You and I are going to go speak to Kasey Wilkson. She's the sister of one our victims, and also the one who spent the most time with him. They were roommates, and she phoned in the missing persons report."
Reid nodded in understanding, swallowing hard. He had never really quite forgotten about everything he packed away into that chest of his and as the case continued on, with the UnSub on the prowl for a new patient, the chest was putting up an increasingly more powerful struggle. He wanted to abandon this one case, head back to Quantico and work with Garcia. But that was out of the question.
'This is part of the job. Don't be foolish,' he chided himself as he followed Morgan into the car, taking the passenger's seat.
"So where does this Kasey Wilkson live?" he asked, locking that chest up once more and mentally shaking an angry fist at it. The engine erupted into life as the ignition was turned and soon they were on the road, Morgan leading the way.
"Up by Olive. Not all too far, really. Besides, up here, the scenery is so beautiful a long car ride is okay by me," Morgan said, laughing. Reid smiled his agreement.
Growing up in Nevada, he had seen extremely different landscapes from this. Dry, yellow earth, flat plateaus with small canyons mixed in. None of that was like what he saw up here- the greenest greens of Mt. Tremper. The bluest blues of mountain skies. And the Esopus Creek that lazily made its way through gray stone shone brilliantly clear, despite the copper colored clay that coated the bottom. It really was quite nice.
If only he wasn't investigating a murder.
"Hey, you okay?" Morgan asked, pulling his thoughts away from the scenery and back to the case.
He nodded, lying. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just thinking about this book I once read on geological histories of specific regions. It mentioned this area in it, saying it was formed about three hundred and fifty years ago as a delta region. Sediments being deposited by the Taconic Mountain met in a sea, and a meteor crashed forming-"
His friend started laughing. "Okay, I asked how you were doing, not how the Catskills was doing," he said, smiling widely. Reid chuckled himself, a faint hint of blush creeping into his cheeks. 'You did it again, Spence,' he thought, wondering how someone supposedly so smart could not learn a lesson as simple as sticking to the relevant?
Morgan turned to him slightly before looking back at the road. "Seriously, man, how are you? You've been weird ever since JJ read the-" his words got stuck in his throat and Reid ducked his head in embarrassment. Well, he kept that fear hidden well.
Deciding it was best to explain himself, he spoke before Morgan could backtrack and apologize. "I know it's ridiculous, and statistically slim. I mean the chances of that happening are-" He was cut off by a withering look sent his way. Smiling weakly, knowing that Morgan wasn't a fan of receiving a hundred answers when only one was needed, said, "Nevermind the statistics. But, either way, it's just so…nerve racking. You can't tell me that when JJ read that profile, you didn't think of me. It was me."
He was silent for a moment, focusing solely on the long stretch of road it would seem. He did think of Reid. He looked at him too, like everyone else. It was almost as if the report was a bad April fool's joke and someone thought it would be funny to make a profile of victims who perfectly matched him. But it wasn't. It was a real report. And the victims were just like Reid. But that didn't mean Reid had to be just like the victims.
"Look Reid," Morgan said, as he sent the man in question a look before turning his attention back to the road. "You're going to be fine. We're not going to let anything happen to you, alright? You're in good hands, Kid."
Reid smiled, chuckling somewhat at the nickname. From anyone else it would be indignant. "Yeah, you're right. But I can't help it. I mean me and the victims were-"
"Hey," Morgan cut him off, shooting him a serious look. "Don't think like that, man. We won't let that happen to you." The black Mazda slowed to a stop as it approached a traffic light and Morgan took this opportunity to give his friend a soft, comforting look. "You're good." The traffic light turned again, and Morgan began to move forward.
As Reid was opening his mouth to respond, he felt a sudden, harsh shove hit him in the side as his door crumpled into him. A speeding SUV crashed into Reid's side of the car, causing the car belonging to the two agents to collapse under its more significant weight. And Reid was jostled from his seat, thrown up against the roof of the car where his head made a sickening THWACK against it. He fell back to his seat, his head throbbing as his vision blurred and the sound of Morgan calling to him, seeing if he was alright, became white noise.
His right arm felt heavy, like it was tied down to a lead weights, and a tingling, stinging sensation swept through it until his entire arm and shoulder felt like they were being pricked with a million white hot needles. A large pressure sat on his side and he groaned at the feel of it. But the worst pain was in his head. So heavy, yet so light all at once. He vaguely noted the blood that fell into his vision, thick and tacky. His eyelids had difficulty opening and closing through the substance, which was just as well as his eyes burned when some of the blood met the corneas.
He felt a push come from the opposite direction- it was Morgan. He was…shaking him? Why? Or was he? He couldn't make sense of anything. His vision, if it wasn't blurred by blood, was hazy and unfocused, little tiny white dots swimming through it. And his hearing was gone- replaced by a high-pitched key. It dawned on him that perhaps he had suffered a concussion. If so, he had to stay awake. Had to. But how?
His eyelids were so heavy, and the blood kept stinging his eyes. Maybe if he closed them- just to keep the blood out…
"DON'T CLOSE YOUR EYES!"
He felt his body jump in surprise at the loudness of the voice. Whose voice was it? It wasn't deep enough to be his friend's voice. And why did it sound so loud? There was no need to yell, was there?
Mannerisms aside, he kept his eyes opened, only to have them sting and be useless to the wave of white dots. His mind needed to be alert…right? Concussion…stay awake…mind alert…
That made sense right?
He wasn't so sure.
He was just so tired.
He wanted to sleep.
He felt so heavy.
"REID! WHAT'S THE FIBONACCI SEQUENCE?" Now there was Morgan. Why was he yelling? Really, he was perfectly capable of hearing. And why did Morgan want to know the Fibonacci Sequence? It was completely irrelevant…
"I need to know," Morgan…whispered? Why was he so quiet now? He really needed to have a talk about maintaining a consistent vocal level…
What was he doing? What did he need? Oh right! Fibonacci…
And Reid began to count to himself, ticking off the sequence in his mind.
One.
One.
Two.
Three.
Five.
Eight.
What came next? He didn't know. He was too tired, he couldn't focus.
And so he ignored the voices, both known and unknown, telling him to keep his eyes open and he closed them. The world became black.
xXx
Feeling by feeling, pain by pain, the world came back to Reid. It was so gradual that it started out almost nonexistent. It started in his feet- his toes ached. Not from pain or from being wounded, but just from lack of use. Than sensation came back- toe by toe, bone by bone, ligament by ligament- until his head was fuzzy. He briefly considered the possibility of someone replacing his brain with cotton balls, but, as he became more and more conscious, dismissed that idea. What a stupid thought really. He'd be dead. Then a terrifying question came to him.
Was he dead?
The last he could remember was being in the car with Morgan before a horrible, shuddering pain filled his body. And now he was…he was where exactly?
'Open your eyes. Examine your surroundings. If you're dead, it won't hurt. If you're alive, you're not dead,' he told himself, trying to will his eyelids to open. But it was no use.
Sighing in defeat, he just lay there, as pain came renewed to his body. It felt like years before he heard anything.
"Is he okay?" a tear-ridden voice said. That voice sounded awfully familiar. JJ?
"Yes, he'll be fine. A concussion was the worst of it but he should be fine," an unfamiliar, deep bellow of a voice said.
So he was right. Good thing he kept his mind alert. Wait…no, he closed his eyes. He remembered being too tired to care, or to even know the consequences of closing his eyes. But he was thankful him sleeping didn't affect the outcome.
"Can we see him?" a deep, monotone voice said. 'Hotch!' his mind practically shouted out triumphantly. At least he was becoming more aware.
The same unfamiliar voice answered, "Yes, but if he wakes, call one of the nurses in." A door opened, then closed. Bellow Voice was gone. Leaving only Hotch, JJ…
"I'm so sorry, Kid," a quiet voice called. Morgan was here than…
'Wait! No, it's not your fault! We had the green light. Right?' Reid's voice tried to reach out to Morgan, but he was in a virtual comatose state. He couldn't so much as wiggle his pinky toe.
Or could he?
Slowly, and with much concentration, he focused on that little, forgotten appendage. He forced his tired brain to connect the bones and muscles necessary- he knew them, somewhere behind the cotton, he knew those specific bones and muscles- too get the signals down to his little toe. After four tries, he finally got it, wiggling the tingly toe triumphantly.
But the victory was short lived, as now he needed to focus on other appendages. And so he repeated the process, barely catching snippets of conversation tossed around him as he focused on wiggling each toe in liberation- each finger, both ankles, both wrists, his neck. And then he focused on opening his eyes.
With a great deal of effort, an amount so large he was surprised he didn't close them again for sleep- he opened his eyes.
He was blinded. The light was so bright he hissed- well, he thought he hissed. In reality it came out more as a groan. But that groan caught the attention of his teammates, who had just been discussing how they should leave, and Rossi was out the door to find a nurse.
But Reid was too focused on the color- or lack thereof- surrounding him. White lights, white ceilings, white walls, white linens, white curtains, white linoleum…
As if his body was ready to protest the overuse of white, he turned to his side and wretched violently, spewing up the contents of…his stomach? No, that was empty. This was bile.
Whimpering softly at the pain that rippled through him at the action of vomiting, he leaned back in bed, satisfied that now there was at least something other than white in the room.
"Reid?"
He looked over in the direction of the voice. It was Morgan. He was radiating relief and guilt all at the same time, and as much as Reid wanted to comfort him, he couldn't. He was too tired and heavy at the moment. So instead, he smiled weakly.
He watched as another wave of relief washed over his friend before he grabbed a tissue from a box beside his bed.
"You've got some bile on your lip," the man said as he wiped it away for him.
'Well,' he thought to himself in humiliation, 'guess who owes Morgan a big favor now?'
He was jolted from his thoughts by the poking and prodding of a nurse. Turning slowly so as to not disrupt his head, he watched as the nurse shoved a thermometer in his mouth before wrapping his arm in a sphygmomanometer and determining his blood pressure. Absentmindedly, he began twirling the thermometer around in his mouth with his tongue, still barely conscious of the world and the proper ways to behave in it. The nurse simply gave him a tired look, as if she understood his confusion induced actions but really didn't care for them. Either way, she wrote the results down on her clipboard and offered Reid some water, propping him up so he could drink it without getting it down his front.
After several large gulps and two refills later, the nurse spoke to him.
"Hello, Dr. Reid. I'm a nurse here, my name is Holly." She smiled sweetly here. "Are you feeling alright enough to speak to your doctor? He needs to ask you some questions."
He thought for a moment. Was he okay? Now that he had water he could speak properly and his head wasn't feeling so bad anymore. With a lazy roll of his shoulders, he decided he should just say yes. Worse come to worse, they just visit him again for the same reason.
"Yes, I'm fine."
Was that his voice? It sounded so raspy.
Holly smiled and excused herself, telling his team that they had five minutes left and then calling down the hall for a janitor to clean up Reid's vomit. He really was so charming, wasn't he?
"Hey, Spence. How are you feeling?" JJ asked, sitting at the edge of his bed and placing a strong, comforting hand on his knee.
Ignoring the flip-flop of his stomach that her contact created, he said, "Like I was in a train wreck."
Morgan chuckled. "Close. A car wreck." A moment of silence passed between the occupants of the room before Morgan added, "Look, man, I'm sorry. I didn't see the driver. I know that's no excuse but I'm really sorry."
Reid shook his head, reprimanding himself for the pain it created, and smiled. "It's not your fault. I don't blame you. It was that jerk in the SUV." He chuckled slightly, causing the others to smile.
Before anymore could be said, the nurse returned, followed by Reid's doctor. Holly shooed everyone away, letting them say goodbye for two more minutes before becoming more assertive in her suggestions for them to leave. When it was finally just Reid and the hospital staff, Holly smiled politely and then let herself out.
"Hello, I'm your attending doctor, Dr. Valentino," the man- Bellow Voice- said. "I know you've been through a bit, but I'm afraid we need you to fill out some paperwork. Legal stuff, as well as patient records. Would you like some help?"
Reid smiled and shook his head. 'Ow. Slowly, remember,' he thought as his head screamed in protest.
"No, thanks. I'll be fine."
Dr. Valentino smiled and handed him a clipboard and a pen. Reid was started before the man even left the room.
Full Name: Reid, Spencer
DOB: October 9, 1981
Physical Appearance Identification-
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Hazel
Weight: 137 lbs
Height: 6'2''
Medical History
Any existing allergies: None
Any existing medical conditions: None
History of physical illnesses in family (not patient): None
History of mental illnesses in family (not patient):
He paused here, holding the pen erect above the sheet before biting his lip and scribbling:
History of mental illnesses in family (not patient): Mother, paranoid schizophrenia
xXx
Author's Note: A thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorite and alerted this story! I greatly appreciate it and am glad you're enjoying this story. Here's a present for you all!
Chapter Three: Remaining So (Preview)
"You're not the doctor from before," Reid said slowly, eyeing the man suspiciously. But he simply smiled warmly and placed a hand on his chest, as if hurt by his accusatory tone.
"Relax, Dr. Reid. I'm just here to discharge you," he explained handing Reid yet another clipboard and pen to sign with. He was really starting to hate clipboards. With a sigh, Reid wrote the necessary information as the doctor, whose name badge read 'Dr. Andrew Wright', took his vitals.
About a minute into this routine, Dr. Wright began to speak. "I was reading over your file the other day and, pardon me for being forward, but you did write that your mother was a paranoid schizophrenic, yes?" Reid looked at the man wearily, biting his lower lip as he simply nodded his answer. He really did hate talking about this. Why did it have to come up all the time? It really was getting old.
However, Dr. Wright seemed intent on speaking about it as he then asked, "Do you ever fear that perhaps you carry her genes for it?"