(no subject)
Title: Crossfire 4/?
Rating: FRT (series overall FRAO)
Pairing: Morgan/Reid
Summary: Spencer reaches out to Derek, but things don’t go as planned.
ConCrit: Better than Reid’s boy band haircut. Wait, nothing’s better than that :)
SPOILERS: Some canon from all seasons, but not always in the way it happened on the show.
~~~
Disclaimer: I don’t own any rights or trademarks to Criminal Minds, the FBI, CBS or any of the characters within. No infringements of these copyrights are intended. Any similarities between original characters therein are a coincidence. I make no profit from the following fictional story. (Fictional, maybe, but I swear this happened all in my head).
~~~
A week later at the BAU offices in Quantico
Agent Derek Morgan
“In heaven, they haven’t even heard of paper,” Prentiss groans from her desk as she closes another file and puts it in a box to her left. That’s her ‘Done’ box. It’s paperwork day after almost 5 days in Mississippi trying to track down a group of alleged KKK members who went rogue and thought gutting white people who associated with people of color was a good idea.
“Well, too bad there ain’t a heaven,” I reply, taking a sip of now cold coffee.
“Derek Morgan doesn’t believe in heaven?” Garcia comes up behind me. I don’t hear her anymore, she doesn’t wear heels that clatter. She’s also stopped wearing accessories because Jane is fascinated with pulling them off and putting them in her mouth. Yet she still so beautiful and full of character. It’s like she never needed all those colors and baubles in the first place. She’s still my God-given solace in any package. If there ever was a god.
“There’s no proof,” I reply, stand and grabbing my cold coffee.
“The proof is in your heart,” she says, pressing her palm against my chest.
I shrug. “I need more than that baby-girl. I’ve lived on faith for too long without results.”
As I turn and head towards the break room I hear her say to Prentiss “I really miss that man.”
Yeah, I miss him too.
~~~
Meanwhile, at his psychologist’s office in Washington DC
Dr. Spencer Reid
I hate this room.
She’s meant well, keeping the colors neutral. There are throw pillows on the very comfortable couch, boxes of tissues readily available, and she has a ‘no shoes’ policy for her office. She’s warming in an honest way, and there is part of me that wants to push her to see just how honest she can be. I’m willing to bet completely. She outright admitted she was intimidated by my credentials and job experience, but that she knows it doesn’t qualify me to handle this.
We’ve had three sessions since I got back. This is my fourth.
“How was your visit with Jane?” She asks, setting her digital recorder on the table between us. Dave Tango gave me a recorder. I still have it in the bottom of a box in the hallway closet.
“Not as overwhelming as I thought it would be,” I reply honestly. I haven’t been dishonest with her at all. “She’s so beautiful.”
“You said last time that you felt guilty for missing her birth.”
“I do, but I realize that I was doing something to protect them. I wouldn’t have been much help in the beginning anyway, I don’t have luck around kids.”
“Have you seen Derek?”
I told her all about Derek and I and everything we’ve been through, except for me killing Toby Bell and being high on the job. That I have to hold back. “No.”
“Called him? Sent him a text or email?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I still don’t know what to say.”
“He knows you are going through a hard time. I think you’d be surprised at how helpful talking to him could be. He knows you better than anyone else.”
“As good as anyone could know me.”
“I want to do an experiment,” she reaches over and shuts off the recorder. “I want you to profile him.”
“We don’t do that, we have a rule about profiling each other...” I begin to detest. But in reality, we have had to profile Derek before. During the Carl Buford case. It was the most confusing case I’ve ever worked, because it challenged my assumptions in a way I didn’t think they could be challenged.
“Not an entire profile, just a relationship profile. I want to know how you see his gears turning.” She settles back into her chair. “I want to see you at work.”
I clear my throat and get equally comfortable on the couch, letting myself sink into it like a child in a chair too big for him. It feels like a hug. “Derek is warm and personable. He likes to project that he’s honest and supportive. But it’s a partial mask, his honesty comes when he’s forced by extrinsic factors. He’s guarded, after a life peppered with tragedy and a job that pits him against the worst of the worst. He is trusting, but will always hold a part of himself back.”
“How does he treat his friends?”
“He’s loyal to the point of forgetting himself.”
“To you?”
“To everyone.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“He’s always been there for me.”
“Above and beyond anyone else?”
“He flew out to Las Vegas when I left to teach. But I don’t blame him, I didn’t tell him.”
“To try to bring you home?”
“To make sure I was okay. He came back to take care of me after a surgery too.” I swallow. “He wrote home to my mother while I was gone, he took care of the cats. So yes. Above and beyond anyone else.”
“You know what I’m going to say, right?”
“Of course. I know, rationally, that I should not feel the way I feel and yet I still feel that way. That’s what has been the most confusing to me.”
“In criminal profiling, you have to not only rely on your knowledge and past experiences, but also trust your instinct, right?” She reaches to turn on the recorder again. “That’s what I’ve read anyway. In David Rossi’s books.”
I smile. “Yes. But I can’t treat Derek like an unsub, or the relationship like a case.”
“I suppose not. In cases you are looking to solve them, close them, and move on. So no, you can’t. But what I’m trying to get you to see for yourself is that your instinct and emotions are not a betraying weakness, but rather a valuable asset. Use them.”
I look her straight in the eye. “So none of this ‘learn to love yourself’ crap?”
“Is that what you were expecting? Once you figure out how to best utilize your assets, the rest will just fall into place.”
~~~
That night at Prentiss’s apartment
Agent Derek Morgan
Emily and I walk through the door of her apartment, kicking off our shoes at the door. She quickly makes her way to her counter-top wine fridge to pick out a bottle of white while I slide into one of her armchairs in the living room. We were only in Philadelphia for a few hours consulting on a bomb-threat case, but sometimes it’s those quick-and-easy cases that can really wear a person out.
My phone starts vibrating in my pocket and I answer quickly, fearing it’s the Philadelphia PD calling to say they have the wrong guy. “Morgan.”
“Derek?” It’s Spencer. He sounds flustered. “I think I need your help?”
I spring to my feet. “What’s wrong Spence?” Emily comes into the room and looks at me with worry.
“Taffy has an ear infection and...well...I can’t seem to hold her down to give her the medicine and I thought since she likes you and all that maybe you could help me? Whenever, if you are free.”
“I’m free right now, of course I’ll be right over. Have you eaten yet?”
“Yeah, but there is still half a pizza here if you’re hungry.”
“Be there soon.” I hang up. “One of the cats needs meds.”
“Don’t forget to take your go-bag and put it in your car,” Prentiss says.
I roll my eyes. “Not going to happen. I have your spare key in case you’re asleep when I get back.”
~
When I arrive I knock before letting myself in. There’s a few things out of place, some of the pillows from the couch are on the floor. Two towels are strewn about the living room. I picture Spencer trying to ‘net’ Taffy in a towel and being extremely unsuccessful. The visual brings a smile to my face. “I’M HERE!”
“WE ARE IN THE BATHROOM!” I hear him yell back. Setting down my keys, I go to find Spencer sitting in the tub, one leg hanging out, with a blanket in his lap. “I’ve got her wrapped up in here, but I can’t free her head.”
“What does she need?” I kneel next to him.
“I got the pill down her throat earlier, but I can’t hold her and put the ear drops in at the same time.” He exhales loudly. “Three doctorates and I’m outsmarted by a housecat.”
I take the bundle from his arms and gently uncover Taffy’s head. I instantly scratch being her ears in the favorite spot until she’s purring. “I hate to say this, but she hasn’t seen you in a long time. Perhaps she has to relearn to trust you again.”
He reaches into his pocket and prepares the dropper with medicine, managing to get the dosage into her ear and rub it in before she hisses and I let her go. “Sally didn’t sleep in bed with me for four days after I came back.”
I help him out of the tub and we make our way back into the living room, cleaning up the mess as we go. “You said you had pizza?”
“In the fridge, but I think it’s still warm.”
Too hungry to care, I open the fridge and pull out a cool slice. When I return to the living room, I take a long look at Spencer. He’s wearing jeans with one knee blown out. Mismatched socks. One red, the other yellow with black stripes. His brown long-sleeve shirt is big on him. “Nice outfit,” I reply, sitting next to him.
“Oh, I got this shirt during our trip to Salt Lake City.” He sits up, seemingly more animated. “We took a road trip with seven RV’s to do a sit-in at a nuclear waste site and on the way we stopped at this amazing flea market. I got Strawberry a Strawberry Shortcake doll and this shirt.”
“So it wasn’t all miserable being Nathan Villisca?”
He sighs. “Sorry, my therapist says I have to stop talking about that life. Apparently it’s good for me to force myself to move on. I really should throw these clothes out, but I feel really comfortable in them. I look in my closet and wonder why the fuck I was so into sweater vests.”
I burst out laughing. “Spencer Reid, if Garcia could hear you right now...”
He looks at me and begins to laugh along. Its good to see his face light up and his smile return. For just a moment, he’s happy and perfectly content. If only I could make sure he stays that way forever.
“It was good for me.”
“What was? Buying jeans?”
He shakes his head. “It was good for me to get out of Dr. Spencer Reid. I’m so miserable, Loki isn’t.”
“Spencer, you aren’t Loki anymore. There is no more Loki, he’s not real. You are real. You might be miserable right now...”
“I don’t remember the last time Spencer was happy.” He looks at me painfully. “Even when we were together, I was still carrying that secret about Deep Lake. I never let myself be happy with you.”
Then I remember...he doesn’t know. “You didn’t kill Toby Bell.”
“We’ve been over this...”
“No. I told Prentiss. We were undercover, hiking in the mountains and I told her because I couldn’t hold it back anymore. She called Garcia and Garcia pulled the file. Toby was killed by a bullet out of a rifle that shot him in the back. You had fired a round but they recovered it from a nearby tree. You didn’t kill him.”
I have never felt stillness like this before. I think even the cats were holding their breaths. The whole world just stopped. I can’t even breathe, afraid that something will break.
“I think you should go.”
I’m stunned. “Why?”
“I’m...I don’t know but I think you should.”
“Spencer?”
“Please?”
I stand up and head to the door. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”
The whole drive back to Emily’s feels wrong, but I fight the instinct to go back anyway.