Criminal Minds fic: Rolling Stone
Title: Rolling Stone
Author: Philote
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Characters/Pairing: Morgan, Reid
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: The characters and situations of Criminal Minds do not belong to me. I make no money from this story. Please don’t sue.
Warnings: Spoilers through 3x02.
Summary: After Gideon’s abrupt departure, Morgan tries to pick up the pieces.
Author’s Note: Written for the prompt ‘a rolling stone crushes toes’ at Taming the Muse.
oOo
“You want another one?”
Reid glanced up at him. The beer can looked so out of place settled delicately in those long fingers. Derek was tempted to pour it into a coffee cup for him, just to reconcile the scene. “This one’s not even half-empty yet.”
Derek grinned, rolling his eyes. “Okay. You want anything else?”
“No, thank you.”
Always so polite. Derek resisted the urge to ruffle his hair as he crossed behind the couch on his way to the kitchen. He helped himself to another beer, ever conscious of his guest in the living room.
It was Friday evening, they might actually get Saturday off (barring unforeseen crises, of course), and Derek had asked Reid back to his place to hang out. He’d had to be rather persistent, but he’d prevailed in the end.
Gideon’s abrupt departure had thrown them all, and Reid had been far too quiet lately. He was perfectly functional when it came to the casework, as quick as ever with his unending knowledge, but outside of that he’d withdrawn. Not a lot, but certainly enough for Derek to notice.
Garcia had accused him once of having a ‘mama bear’ mentality with Reid. He’d balked at the terminology, but it was probably true. He was protective of everyone on the team, but none more so than their youngest.
He crossed back to the couch. Reid seemed engrossed in the television. Derek realized with a start that he didn’t even know what they’d been watching. He’d been too busy studying Reid, and trying not to get caught studying Reid.
He settled in again and tried to give his focus to the screen. After several long minutes, he broke their comfortable silence. “How you doing, kid?”
Reid offered him a slight smile. “Fine.”
“I didn’t mean the beer.”
The younger man sighed in a way that told Derek he’d known perfectly well what he meant. “Yeah.” He leaned forward to settle the can carefully on a magazine resting at the corner of the coffee table. The resignation in his movements suggested he’d been waiting for this since Derek first asked him over. “I’m okay, Morgan. I…it’s not as if I could change anything. I respect his decision.” He paused, then added softly, “This isn’t about me.”
Derek went quiet then, processing the statement. Finally he spoke, carefully casual. “I don’t think I would have pegged Gideon as a rolling stone.”
“Rolling stones crush more than toes,” Reid mused.
Derek arched a questioning eyebrow. “What?”
Reid blushed a bit, as if he hadn’t realized he was speaking aloud. “Oh. Sorry. Just something my Mom said once after my-“ he cut himself off, glancing away. “In one of her less lucid moments.”
Derek read between the lines, knew what he’d stopped himself from saying. After my Dad left. Abandonment issues went bone-deep with Reid.
And Gideon knew that-knew Reid-better than any of them.
Derek kind of wanted to track the man down just to punch him in the face.
He swallowed back the anger and responded calmly, “Lucid or not, it sounds pretty astute to me.”
“I suppose it is.”
This was frustrating, not unlike pulling teeth. He gave up on trying to subtly draw Reid out and just instructed, “Talk to me, kid. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking…I hope he’s okay. I hope he finds peace. And I’m thinking that I don’t want to talk about this.”
Derek stared at him for a beat, then sighed. He reached to squeeze his shoulder. “Okay, baby boy.”
Reid shrugged away. “I’m not a child.”
Derek backed off, a little stung. He always used playful nicknames, and Reid always seemed to get the affection in them. But again, he could hear what wasn’t being said. I don’t need a father. He wasn’t sure it was true, but Reid was certainly trying to convince himself that it was. “Sorry,” he apologized.
Reid shook his head, then met his eyes. His expression shifted. “Stop profiling me.”
“I can’t. It’s not so easy to turn off. If it helps, I’m not thinking as a profiler. Too emotionally involved here.”
Reid visibly softened at that. He was still hesitant, fidgeting as he took a moment to think. “He went through a lot. I understand that he needed to get away from the job.”
“It’s the part where he needed to get away from us that hurts.”
“A little,” he finally admitted.
“Reid, Gideon has been a very important part of your life. You have a right to be a little selfish, here. You have a right to be hurt.”
“Do I?”
“Yes,” he answered without hesitation.
“Then you have a right to be angry.”
That drew him up short. Derek stared and Reid stared back, more confident now that the subject had switched. Finally Derek chuckled, shaking his head. “Fair enough, kid”
“Is it easier to feel it on my behalf than you own?”
“Whoa, whoa,” he protested. “Now who’s profiling?”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He sighed. He wanted Reid to talk; a little reciprocation was only fair. “You’re right, of course. I am angry; at the situation, at Gideon for handling it the way he did…and at us, I suppose, for not being able to help him.”
“We all knew he was struggling. He just…didn’t want to involve us.”
“Maybe we weren’t what he needed, maybe he did need to be away from everything. I just wish he’d given us a chance.”
He let that stand, watched as Reid mulled it over. “I wish I’d had a chance to say goodbye,” he admitted softly.
There was enough pain in the words to make Derek wince. He reached out again but changed his mind at the last moment, laying his arm across the back of the couch instead. “You’re not alone here, Spencer.”
The use of his first name made Reid jerk his attention up in surprise. He studied Derek carefully. Derek could practically see the gears turning, working overtime. Should he trust Derek? Or should he go the self-sufficient route and distance himself to avoid more pain?
Every instinct he had said to grab Reid and hold him until he settled, until he accepted the comfort. He forced himself to wait. This had to be Reid’s choice.
Finally, without actually meeting his eyes again, Reid cautiously leaned into him. Derek dropped the arm around his shoulders, squeezing him in a half-hug. They simply sat in the position, back to staring at the TV. Derek felt the tension slowly seep out of Reid’s body.
“Promise me something,” he said impulsively.
“What?”
“That you won’t go off the rails on me. That you’ll come talk to me-or someone-before you hit that point.”
Reid was quiet for a little too long. “Will you promise me the same?”
The soft question threw him. He opened his mouth to do so and then realized-he couldn’t do it honestly. He’d kind of been there, with the team in his hometown digging up his darkest secrets, and the truth was that it was extremely hard for him to lean on someone else.
“Not so easy, is it?” Reid’s tone was still soft, empathetic.
“I guess not,” he admitted reluctantly.
It didn’t escape him that Reid hadn’t promised. But did he have any right to try to extract a promise he couldn’t give?
Still, Reid had made his point. It was less about trust and more about self-reliance, more about walls that were so very difficult to let down. Derek knew that he probably had more issues with that than Reid.
But the telling thing was that Reid had pointed it out. They were profilers; they knew each other far better than most coworkers, probably even better than most friends. As long as they were watchful, they should see any problems coming.
Reid was right; they’d all known Gideon was struggling. They’d made the mistake of bowing to an unspoken chain of experience, of leaving him alone because he’d chosen it.
He wouldn’t make that mistake with Reid, or anyone else.
Reid glanced up at him, lips turned up ever-so-slightly, and he knew the sentiment was shared.
oOo
Author: Philote
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Characters/Pairing: Morgan, Reid
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: The characters and situations of Criminal Minds do not belong to me. I make no money from this story. Please don’t sue.
Warnings: Spoilers through 3x02.
Summary: After Gideon’s abrupt departure, Morgan tries to pick up the pieces.
Author’s Note: Written for the prompt ‘a rolling stone crushes toes’ at Taming the Muse.
oOo
“You want another one?”
Reid glanced up at him. The beer can looked so out of place settled delicately in those long fingers. Derek was tempted to pour it into a coffee cup for him, just to reconcile the scene. “This one’s not even half-empty yet.”
Derek grinned, rolling his eyes. “Okay. You want anything else?”
“No, thank you.”
Always so polite. Derek resisted the urge to ruffle his hair as he crossed behind the couch on his way to the kitchen. He helped himself to another beer, ever conscious of his guest in the living room.
It was Friday evening, they might actually get Saturday off (barring unforeseen crises, of course), and Derek had asked Reid back to his place to hang out. He’d had to be rather persistent, but he’d prevailed in the end.
Gideon’s abrupt departure had thrown them all, and Reid had been far too quiet lately. He was perfectly functional when it came to the casework, as quick as ever with his unending knowledge, but outside of that he’d withdrawn. Not a lot, but certainly enough for Derek to notice.
Garcia had accused him once of having a ‘mama bear’ mentality with Reid. He’d balked at the terminology, but it was probably true. He was protective of everyone on the team, but none more so than their youngest.
He crossed back to the couch. Reid seemed engrossed in the television. Derek realized with a start that he didn’t even know what they’d been watching. He’d been too busy studying Reid, and trying not to get caught studying Reid.
He settled in again and tried to give his focus to the screen. After several long minutes, he broke their comfortable silence. “How you doing, kid?”
Reid offered him a slight smile. “Fine.”
“I didn’t mean the beer.”
The younger man sighed in a way that told Derek he’d known perfectly well what he meant. “Yeah.” He leaned forward to settle the can carefully on a magazine resting at the corner of the coffee table. The resignation in his movements suggested he’d been waiting for this since Derek first asked him over. “I’m okay, Morgan. I…it’s not as if I could change anything. I respect his decision.” He paused, then added softly, “This isn’t about me.”
Derek went quiet then, processing the statement. Finally he spoke, carefully casual. “I don’t think I would have pegged Gideon as a rolling stone.”
“Rolling stones crush more than toes,” Reid mused.
Derek arched a questioning eyebrow. “What?”
Reid blushed a bit, as if he hadn’t realized he was speaking aloud. “Oh. Sorry. Just something my Mom said once after my-“ he cut himself off, glancing away. “In one of her less lucid moments.”
Derek read between the lines, knew what he’d stopped himself from saying. After my Dad left. Abandonment issues went bone-deep with Reid.
And Gideon knew that-knew Reid-better than any of them.
Derek kind of wanted to track the man down just to punch him in the face.
He swallowed back the anger and responded calmly, “Lucid or not, it sounds pretty astute to me.”
“I suppose it is.”
This was frustrating, not unlike pulling teeth. He gave up on trying to subtly draw Reid out and just instructed, “Talk to me, kid. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking…I hope he’s okay. I hope he finds peace. And I’m thinking that I don’t want to talk about this.”
Derek stared at him for a beat, then sighed. He reached to squeeze his shoulder. “Okay, baby boy.”
Reid shrugged away. “I’m not a child.”
Derek backed off, a little stung. He always used playful nicknames, and Reid always seemed to get the affection in them. But again, he could hear what wasn’t being said. I don’t need a father. He wasn’t sure it was true, but Reid was certainly trying to convince himself that it was. “Sorry,” he apologized.
Reid shook his head, then met his eyes. His expression shifted. “Stop profiling me.”
“I can’t. It’s not so easy to turn off. If it helps, I’m not thinking as a profiler. Too emotionally involved here.”
Reid visibly softened at that. He was still hesitant, fidgeting as he took a moment to think. “He went through a lot. I understand that he needed to get away from the job.”
“It’s the part where he needed to get away from us that hurts.”
“A little,” he finally admitted.
“Reid, Gideon has been a very important part of your life. You have a right to be a little selfish, here. You have a right to be hurt.”
“Do I?”
“Yes,” he answered without hesitation.
“Then you have a right to be angry.”
That drew him up short. Derek stared and Reid stared back, more confident now that the subject had switched. Finally Derek chuckled, shaking his head. “Fair enough, kid”
“Is it easier to feel it on my behalf than you own?”
“Whoa, whoa,” he protested. “Now who’s profiling?”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He sighed. He wanted Reid to talk; a little reciprocation was only fair. “You’re right, of course. I am angry; at the situation, at Gideon for handling it the way he did…and at us, I suppose, for not being able to help him.”
“We all knew he was struggling. He just…didn’t want to involve us.”
“Maybe we weren’t what he needed, maybe he did need to be away from everything. I just wish he’d given us a chance.”
He let that stand, watched as Reid mulled it over. “I wish I’d had a chance to say goodbye,” he admitted softly.
There was enough pain in the words to make Derek wince. He reached out again but changed his mind at the last moment, laying his arm across the back of the couch instead. “You’re not alone here, Spencer.”
The use of his first name made Reid jerk his attention up in surprise. He studied Derek carefully. Derek could practically see the gears turning, working overtime. Should he trust Derek? Or should he go the self-sufficient route and distance himself to avoid more pain?
Every instinct he had said to grab Reid and hold him until he settled, until he accepted the comfort. He forced himself to wait. This had to be Reid’s choice.
Finally, without actually meeting his eyes again, Reid cautiously leaned into him. Derek dropped the arm around his shoulders, squeezing him in a half-hug. They simply sat in the position, back to staring at the TV. Derek felt the tension slowly seep out of Reid’s body.
“Promise me something,” he said impulsively.
“What?”
“That you won’t go off the rails on me. That you’ll come talk to me-or someone-before you hit that point.”
Reid was quiet for a little too long. “Will you promise me the same?”
The soft question threw him. He opened his mouth to do so and then realized-he couldn’t do it honestly. He’d kind of been there, with the team in his hometown digging up his darkest secrets, and the truth was that it was extremely hard for him to lean on someone else.
“Not so easy, is it?” Reid’s tone was still soft, empathetic.
“I guess not,” he admitted reluctantly.
It didn’t escape him that Reid hadn’t promised. But did he have any right to try to extract a promise he couldn’t give?
Still, Reid had made his point. It was less about trust and more about self-reliance, more about walls that were so very difficult to let down. Derek knew that he probably had more issues with that than Reid.
But the telling thing was that Reid had pointed it out. They were profilers; they knew each other far better than most coworkers, probably even better than most friends. As long as they were watchful, they should see any problems coming.
Reid was right; they’d all known Gideon was struggling. They’d made the mistake of bowing to an unspoken chain of experience, of leaving him alone because he’d chosen it.
He wouldn’t make that mistake with Reid, or anyone else.
Reid glanced up at him, lips turned up ever-so-slightly, and he knew the sentiment was shared.
oOo