A/N: I'm still blown away by the amount of reviews, favourites and follows this fic has received! Once again, thank you for all the support - I'm still enjoying reading your predictions.
Sorry for the late update, and sorry that this is a shorter chapter than most.
x o x
Aaron's glad he remembered to bring Reid's apartment key with him; an unfamiliar man in a dark suit and sunglasses trying to break a longtime-resident's door down would probably look menacing to most residents. Unfortunately, he thinks that the same man desperately scrabbling around in his pockets for a key is an even worse look.
"Looking for Spencer, young man?" A voice from behind Aaron startles him; he turns around to see an elderly woman having just come up the stairs, holding an alarmingly large amount of shopping bags in both hands. "Are you his boss?"
"Just about to fetch some items for him," he replies once his heart calms down. "And yes, I am his boss. Aaron Hotchner. Would you like help with those bags?" He finally finds Reid's key, deep inside an obscure suit jacket pocket.
"No thank you." She smiles toothily. "My apartment is just down the hall. What does Spencer need?"
"Just some books for him to read," he answers, wondering if Reid would mind if he tells her about his current predicament. "Actually, I'm afraid there was a slight incident earlier this morning, ma'am."
Her face pales. "Is he okay? Is he sick?"
"Sort of. Minor car accident," he replies, hoping that if he's blasé about it the woman won't keel over and die of a heart attack on the spot. She certainly looks the type.
To his surprise, she remains silent for a few seconds. "Hmm," she muses, readjusting her shopping bags. "That's different to what I expected."
"...What did you suspect?"
"Well, I was on my way home from the grocery one night a few weeks ago, quite late," she begins, and Aaron inwardly groans; her story is bound to be long-winded and filled with unnecessary details, and he doesn't really want her to be carrying those bags any more than she really needs to. "And we both came home at around the same time, which at the time was odd to me because I hadn't seem him around in a few months. When I asked him where in heck he'd been, he said he'd been sick and was coming home from refilling his prescription."
Aaron's heart jumped again at the possibility of Reid around drugs, then immediately chided himself for thinking the worst. "Did he elaborate on his illness?"
The woman pauses. "Brain problems," she says, "or something to that effect. He had a lot of painkillers - or were they pain blockers? Oh, I don't know."
"Did you see what medications he had?" If she saw Dilaudid, and he passed it off as his prescription...
"I'm afraid not, young man. I'm legally blind." She smiles toothily again.
Oh God, I've intercepted a half-blind ninety year old. "I'm sorry for keeping you, ma'am."
"Oh, don't worry," she grins, readjusting her shopping bags again. Aaron watches intently for any sign of her losing her balance and falling down the stairs. "Please, tell Spencer I'm keeping him in my prayers."
"I will," he nods. She nods back and trudges away down the hall, very slowly. "Ma'am?" he calls out, wincing as she turns around to face him again. He can almost feel every vertebrae in her spine cracking.
"Yes, Hotchner?"
"Have you ever considered going into a care home?" Aaron suggests, hoping the woman doesn't suddenly explode with anger. Those shopping bags look too lumpy to not be painful.
To his relief, her sweet demeanour stays. "Of course I have," she says, "but I already have Spencer to take care of me. He often collects groceries for me, you know. He's a good man."
Aaron doesn't say anything as she smiles and turns back around, moving slowly up the hallway. "Yes," he replies after a few seconds, quietly and under his breath. "I know."
Then why do I keep suspecting the worst of him?
x o x
Reid's apartment is somewhat cleaner than he had expected; there's no dirty dishes, all his books are neatly stacked in rows on the table, and even what he can see of his bed is well-made - which seems odd, considering that Reid had gone out in the middle of the night and apparently hadn't gotten any sleep. Perhaps he was getting a "prescription", he thinks, before cursing and slapping himself mentally. Don't think those things. Reid deserves more trust than that.
He finds the books fairly easily. Four of them are textbooks on various subjects; he peeks inside one of them and is immediately presented with a very complicated diagram of something he can't make heads or tails of. He closes the book quickly, ego slightly bruised.
The fifth and last book is, to Aaron's surprise, what looks like a pre-owned copy of American Psycho. He hadn't picked Reid for the type to be reading up on contemporary critiques of capitalism (and serial killers). Perhaps he didn't enjoy the film.
He's about to leave the apartment and not pry any further when a note on the opposite end of the desk piques his interest. Or rather, an envelope; pristine white, no stamp and the initials S.R written neatly in the middle of the top flap. It looks a little like Reid's own handwriting, albeit much neater than usual.
He debates himself for a few seconds. Aaron values the privacy of all of his team members, of course. He doesn't like to pry any more than necessary into their personal lives (because that's usually Morgan and Garcia's job).
On the other hand, his conversation with Reid's neighbour had given him a lot to think about.
The envelope sits there, mocking him.
After another second of hesitation, he snatches it up and puts it in his briefcase.
x o x
Reid looks much better than Aaron had anticipated when he first walks in again. He's sitting up straight despite his ribs, watching the small television screen at the end of the room intently. Dr. Phil appears to be playing, much to Aaron's amusement.
"Reid?" he says, knocking on the doorframe quietly, mostly out of politeness. Reid's head whips around comically, and Aaron feels bad when the younger man gasps slightly in pain.
"Hotch!" he says, good hand scrambling for the remote.
"I brought those books for you," Aaron replies pulling up a chair beside the bed. "Who's Doctor Phil talking to today?"
Red stares at him for a split second in apparent shock that his boss would be interested in such a TV show, but soon smiles wryly. "A teenage girl addicted to meth," he starts, "a woman who was given faulty breast implants, and a gay couple who just learned they're actually half brothers. The last part was the most interesting."
"It's like a real-life soap opera." Aaron hands him American Psycho. "You've never read this?"
Reid shrugs. "I read so fast that I figured I could just read it whenever. Thanks for bringing these, I should be occupied until tomorrow afternoon now."
"Don't you mean a few hours?"
Reid's smile disappeared. "I'm a human being, not a machine," he says, rolling his eyes slightly. "Anyway, I believe you brought something else with you."
Aaron freezes. He couldn't possibly mean...that envelope, could he? "I don't believe I did."
Reid rolls his eyes even harder. "Come on, Hotch. I remember exactly where I left that envelope, right next to those books. There's no way you didn't see it."
"And you think I picked it up?"
"Any other member of this team would." Reid gives him a pointed stare, and it's then that Aaron realises he's not going to be able to keep the letter. Wordlessly, he reaches into his briefcase and hands it to the younger man, nodding stiffly.
Reid smiles as he takes the envelope from him, casting a quick glance at Aaron before angling his body slightly as he takes out the contents. He reads himself the letter, scanning it within a couple of seconds. "Thanks," he says, reaching under the bed covers and storing the letter away. "Would you like the envelope?" he asks innocently.
Aaron smiles tightly. "No," he says, "you can keep it." He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "How's your head?"
"What?"
"Your head. You said you had a migraine when you got hit."
Reid looks away. "Oh, yeah," he frowns. "The pain of both the migraine and the concussion may have cancelled each other out. No headaches right now."
"And your ribs?"
"Fine. Better. Great, even." Reid pauses. "Did you tell the team?"
"I told them. They...took it well," Aaron answers, watching Reid nod slowly.
"But you didn't let them come see me?"
"Garcia was one keystroke away from hacking into your record," he replies, "but I stopped her."
"For now." Reid smiles wryly. "In any case, I get out tomorrow, apparently."
"That seems...early." Aaron supposes that he trusts Reid's doctor, but after everything the younger man has gone through in his twelve or so years on the team, he can't help but feel like one day in hospital isn't enough.
"It's not like I've never broken ribs before," Reid shrugs. "The pain would keep me from doing anything too strenuous anyway. And the concussion was barely a tap on the head."
"But you did just get hit by a car."
"Well, I won't deny that. How long do you think I'll be off work for?"
Aaron pauses. He hasn't actually considered this yet; Reid seems fine, but he's keeping too many secrets to be fully trusted - and he'd really like to know what those prescriptions were, migraines or no migraines. Still, he'd rather his agent be at work where he can check up on him rather than be alone in his apartment, if something really is going on like he suspects. "Two weeks," he sighs. "That's the shortest period away I can grant you."
"Can we cut it down to one?" Reid asks with a hopeful, well-rehearsed glimmer in his eye.
"Pulling your very best wounded gazelle act, I see." It sounds malicious, but he and Reid both smile. They both know that it's an act Reid has pulled quite a few times in the past.
"I am wounded. Just not much." Reid blinks. "And I've been told I have something called Bambi eyes."
Aaron is about to respond when there's a soft, nervous knock at the door. "Excuse me?" comes a voice from the doorway. The two glance over to see Abigail standing there, half in the room and half still standing in the corridor. There are bags under her eyes and the bandage is still there on her forehead,but she looks better than she did a few hours ago.
"Abigail," he says, standing to greet her. "How are you?"
"Good," she says haltingly, sending cautious glances at Reid. "My head doesn't hurt so much anymore."
"That's good," he says, looking at Reid, who just looks confused. "How did your parents take it?"
"Fine, I guess." She shifts uncomfortably. "They came and picked me up from the hospital, so we talked then."
"Who are you?" Reid interrupts somewhat rudely, glancing between Hotch and her.
"You don't remember?" she asks, frowning. "I was the one that hit you...for which I am, again, so sorry."
"Oh." Reid sits still for a few seconds. "It's fine. I didn't die, so there's that."
"Yeah, we talked a bit after I hit you, but you had the concussion, so you would have been kind of out of it.
"Not at all," he replies, frowning. "Like you said, probably the concussion."
"Would you like me to leave?" Aaron asks, getting ready to stand up. "I can leave you two alone-"
"No, don't worry," she stammers, just as Reid opens his mouth. "I only came to see if Reid looked okay."
"I feel fine," Reid replies, "even better than I felt three minutes ago when I last got asked."
Abigail winces. "Again...sorry about that."
"You were just worried. Don't pay much mind to it."
A silence between the three of them commences, with Reid opening a book - clumsily with only one good hand - and Aaron standing there with Abigail.
"What about insurance?" he asks, just to break the silence. "Was your car damaged?"
Abigail stiffens. "Not really. The paint might need to be redone around the front, but that's all."
"I'll pay for it," Reid offers, but Abigail shakes her head.
"Don't worry," she replies, "my parents said they would pay for it."
"That's very generous of them," Aaron remarks. He raises a questioning eyebrow at her.
"They sorta agreed it wasn't my fault when I told them what happened."
She has very lenient parents, Aaron thinks tersely, but stops himself from saying it out loud. Perhaps he would become that kind of parent to Jack in the not-so-distant future; though probably not, based on his reputation in the office.
Abigail coughs. "I'll leave you to it, since you have company now."
"Actually, I do have to get back to my job," Aaron says, checking his watch. "Lunch break is over."
"You can stay to talk more if you want," Reid suggests to her, eyeing the seat Aaron had left. "And it's more interesting than Dr. Phil."
She pauses. "I think I'd like that," she says, smiling slightly. "Do they still show reruns of Jeremy Kyle US at this time?"
Aaron nods goodbye to Reid silently, who nods and waves back with his good hand. The last thing he sees before he turns around and walks through the door is Abigail sitting down on the chair and scooting it over closer to his bed.
After a moment of thought, he closes the door behind him.
God, I wish I'd lied about having that letter.
x o x
Again, sorry for the longer wait this time. The next chapter will have more action, I promise. What do you predict will happen?
Once again, thank you for reading! Your responses are always awesome to read.