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i. Hotch
"The Director is bringing in outside help for this case." Hotch stated one morning without preamble as he walked into the conference room.
He had, once again, became the bearer of bad news to the team. He quieted for a second, watching as their faces morph into those of surprise and confusion. His eyes caught the stack of files already piled on the desk, courtesy of Garcia.
And now for the barrage of questions.
Morgan was the first to respond, "Wait, hold up. I thought we’ve got full jurisdiction on this?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. Next to him, Prentiss nodded, looking at Hotch for an explanation. He didn't even need to turn his head in order to know that Dave was watching him closely.
Hotch sighed heavily. "This is not up to me.” He said, hoping the hopelessness wasn't too obvious on his voice. He, too, had only been debriefed earlier by Strauss.
"It is of the utmost importance that we play along, Aaron." She had said very seriously. Any complaint that he had in mind died on his tongue as Strauss shook her head. “The Director asked for a personal favor. You’ll have to investigate this as quietly as possible.” She explained, apparently catching the frown on his face.
'I can't do anything, either,' her face had read. If Hotch didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought she looked apologetic. Hotch didn't bother to say anything else after that. Only turning on his heels to leave.
Back to the issue at hand, he addressed the whole room again. “The Director is under a lot of pressure to keep this investigation in the fast-track and below the radar." He continued. "All eyes are on him," he paused, surveying the room, "—and us." He said with finality.
The air in the room shifted noticeably. He knew, even though this might not be their first choice, that his team would bear the command nevertheless. In this line of work, politics really did have a grip on every single decision made. This one was no exception.
Hopefully, if they play nice, the addition of a consultant might not even affect the case that badly. It would be a bit of a hassle, sure, especially since they did not have much information about said consultant. The only thing he knew, from Strauss’ memo left at his office, was that they were bringing a Dr. Spencer Reid from the CIA’s Crime Intelligence branch. Hotch held a small hope that there wouldn’t be too much friction between his team and the addition of an external consultant.
No one voiced any immediate objection, which Hotch took as a cue to move along to the next thing on the agenda. The briefing went on for another twenty minutes. By the end of it, the team had more or less accepted the idea of a consultant tagging along.
Early the next morning found Hotch in his office, three different sets of files sprawled on top of his desk. He studied them carefully, committing the details into his memory. The bullpen was starting to fill out, and Dave had offered him a nod earlier as he passed by his office.
The quiet buzz of his phone broke him out his musings. A new message from Strauss.
'CIA. ETA 10.' The text said.
Wonderful. Hotch abandoned the files at hand, pocketing his phone to head out and meet the consultant. He had been planning to greet him personally, in hope of assessing the man and finding the best course of action to insert him in the investigation.
Hotch stepped down into the bullpen, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. He'd noticed the way Morgan and Prentiss' conversation died abruptly as he passed, no doubt distracted by him and the implication of his presence. He was aware of the gossip mill in this department that travelled in lightning speed; a side effect of having many profilers in one place. And some things, Hotch thought, were just better left unsaid.
But this consultant business was not one of those thing, of couse.
Well, at least Hotch was confident enough in Dave to know that the man would supervise the rumors to an extent in order to avoid a "discussion" with Strauss.
With that in mind, Hotch strode to the doors, letting them close behind him. He'd wait near the elevator to welcome the Doctor, which was incredibly unusual of him. No wonders everyone looked startled. Then again, Director's orders.
He nodded to a few agents that passed him in the hallway, but a lone presence next to the elevator caught his eyes. It was a young man, clad in a dark sweater vest and slacks, pacing back and forth anxiously. His outfit screamed ‘scholar', and with the way his eyes kept bouncing around, he didn't look like he knew what he was doing here. It almost seemed like he had just stumbled his way onto the sixth floor, utterly lost.
He appeared to be harmless at first glance, but Hotch immediately noticed the rather unusual placement of a gun holster on his belt. ' Must be a new agent,' he thought. The boy couldn't be a day older than twenty five, according to his estimation.
The young man was wringing his hands, biting his lips in the process. He was nervous, that was for sure. But it was a common sight in younger agents. And--oh, Hotch could also see a peek of his socks. They were mismatched. Jarringly so, that one of them was navy blue decorated with anchors, and the other one was a bright purple. There was something contradictory in the way he carried himself, but Hotch couldn't pinpoint the exact cause. ' He looked like a child playing an adult,' was Hotch's initial assessment.
He was about to dismiss him completely when he caught the flash of a guest name tag pinned to man's vest. He stopped, evaluated the man once again, and deemed that this must be CIA-related somehow. Maybe Dr. Reid couldn't make it after all, and they sent this new agent in his place instead. Wonderful.
Right at this moment, the young man turned, catching Hotch's gaze. Immediately, he stopped in his tracks, mouth forming into an 'o'.
Hotch kicked into his role, stepping closer to the man. "CIA?" He asked pointedly.
There was absolutely no time to waste, what with the sensitive case and all, but the CIA still wouldn't send Dr. Reid over? Hotch was hoping that Dr. Reid would arrive in-person, and on time, but that didn't seem to be the case at the moment.
The man nodded, and his hands curled tighter around his messenger bag. Averse to touching, maybe? Or social anxiety perhaps. Hotch decided not to offer his hand. The faster that he can convince this agent to get Dr. Reid to come, the better.
"SSA Aaron Hotchner. When can we expect Dr. Reid?" He asked, opening the door towards the bullpen.
The younger agent moved to follow, but his step faltered in the middle. "Ah, Agent Hotchner?" he called, a small frown on his face. He looked unsure, so Hotch paused in his track as well.
"I'm Dr. Spencer Reid." The young man said carefully.
Surprised, Hotch turned to properly face him. "You are Dr. Spencer Reid." Hotch repeated slowly, not wrapping the information around his head. The disbelief in his voice must be apparent because the agent (Dr. Reid, his mind chided) nodded quickly, opening his mouth.
"Oh, um. Yes. Don't worry, Agent Hotchner, it happened a lot. I'm really Dr. Spencer Reid from the CIA's Crime and Narcotics Center of Intelligence. I've been asked to consult on a case case for the BAU." he said, fishing up his badge from his pocket that Hotch could confirm as legitimate.
Now the question remained, how exactly did this young man have not only a doctorate, but was also a specialized CIA agent before he even turned 30? Hotch was expecting someone much older, truthfully. And no matter how skilled he was as a profiler, he wouldn't exactly peg this man as a CIA special agent. There were some signs, yes, but most of them were obscured and rather misleading.
But alas, time was still of the essence, and this whole thing had made them both pausing awkwardly in full view of the bullpen.
Hotch mulled over the information once again. Deciding that he really could not deal with this right now, he nodded briskly. "Of course. Forgive me, Dr. Reid. Let me catch you up in the conference room." He said, careful not to let any hesitation mark his voice.
Dr. Reid seemed grateful for this and moved to follow him inside.
Questions and speculations were still swirling in his mind, but he realized it would be much better to ponder it together with his team, where the young Doctor wouldn’t have to explain twice. He repressed the urge to call up Strauss and asked for confirmation and led Dr. Reid to the conference room instead, where his team was already waiting.
If he was legit, then this case might have a good chance of being solved on time. He hoped fervently that Dr. Reid wouldn’t disappoint.
ii. Prentiss
"By the looks of it, this unsub will definitely hunt again this week." Morgan said, nodding at the file in his hands.
"Yeah, but this mark on his wrist is still bugging me, though. It looks like a symbol of a heart..." Prentiss trailed off, scrutinizing the crime scene photos more closely. "You see, the line over there almost makes it look like an arrow through the heart. A symbol of love, maybe?" She asked, pointing at the closeup of the body. The mark, possibly made using a knife, was still bleeding sluggishly, suggesting the victim was alive when it happened. The cut was crude, almost to the point of being carelessly made. Whether the mark was a signature or just simply an act of aggresion remained unknown. They'd need a new body to compare this particular mark.
"Actually, the arrow through the heart symbolizes an emotional wound, typically from a romantic love. The arrow comes from Cupid, the god of erotic love in classical mythology. In the tale of Cupid and Psyche, Cupid was wounded by his own weaponry, and he experienced the pain of being lovelorn." A new voice appeared from the door, whisking everyone’s attention.
A very tall kid was standing in front of Hotch, dressed in a snug sweater vest and sneakers. He finished his speech with a small, awkward smile, looking entirely too out of place for someone who had just delivered a lesson of the symbolism of an arrow through a heart to a bunch of FBI profilers. Let it be said that there were no boring days in the BAU.
"I'm sorry, who are you again?" Prentiss asked, frowning at the young man.
Hotch cleared his throat, moving forward to address the team. "Everyone, this is Dr. Spencer Reid from the CIA.” He introduced, to which Dr. Reid replied by waving awkwardly.
Right. The external consultant. Who just happened to be 25 years old, of course.
Hotch continued further before anyone can open their mouth. “Dr. Reid is currently working on the Crime and Narcotics Center in the CIA, but he has done some work within the Science and Technology department as well. He's going to be consulting on this case with us." Hotch said, emphasizing the last sentence.
"Doctor, you said?" Rossi asked, squinting. He sounded skeptical, which Prentiss couldn't blame him. He looked more like a college TA, down right to his outfit. But, as the saying went, you shouldn't judge a book by its cover.
Dr. Reid nodded jerkily. "Ah, yes. I have three PHDs in Engineering, Mathematics, and Chemistry. I also have bachelors in Psychology and Sociology and currently pursuing an additional degree in Philosophy." He explained, smiling nervously. From anyone else, the statement would have sounded like a brag, but coming from him, it felt just like stating a fact.
The silence that followed was palpable, accompanied by owlish blinks and raised eyebrows. Granted, no one seemed to know the appropriate response to this- this genius standing in their conference room, rattling off various degrees he'd achieved at a remarkably young age.
Prentiss knew, logically, that there weren't any shortage of smart individuals working in Government Agencies, much less the CIA, but still. He must be recruited very early into this line of work, and Prentiss wondered if he'd ever feel lonely, being so accomplished and yet so painfully young. This was the kind of job that alienated you from the mundane world, and it must be difficult for him to maintain the workload and lead a normal personal life. Prentiss would know. She had experienced it first hand.
With a twinge of sympathy for the kid, Prentiss clapped her hands gently, taking away their focus. "Um. Welcome aboard, then." She managed a small, reassuring smile towards Dr. Reid, noting that his shoulders relaxed at her words. Right. Very young, and by the looks of it, very nervous, she reminded herself. Normally she'd offer a handshake, but she had a hunch that the young Doctor could do without it.
"Thank you." Dr. Reid said with a grateful nod.
Hotch picked up the introduction once again, going around the room. “Dr. Reid, this is Agent Emily Prentiss, Agent Derek Morgan, and Agent David Rossi. Our tech analyst Penelope Garcia will brief us on the way.” Hotch informed in his clipped, professional tone. Prentiss wondered what had Hotch gathered from their young consultant. Was he as surprised as they were when Dr. Reid introduced himself as a CIA's consultant? She wished she could have seen Hotch's expression then. It'd probably be as funny as she imagined it in her head. But, as it was, Hotch had clearly accepted Dr. Reid and his role for this case, and he spoke of him only with respect.
“Will you be joining us, then, Doctor?” Rossi asked. Prentiss saw the way Rossi was assessing the young man, probably still doubtful of his credentials, but willing to give him a chance.
"Yes, Dr. Reid will come to Lexington with us. I have to emphasize the need for discretion in this case. A lot is at stake here. Additionally, with Dr. Reid’s skill set, he’ll be consulting us in… a lot of things, it seemed.” Hotch answered for Dr. Reid, and Prentiss noticed the acknowledgement laced on his voice.
Dr. Reid agreed with him, “Yes. I also specialize in statistics and geographical profiles among other things, agents." He explained, huge eyes meeting everyone’s gaze, unflinching. Maybe he had expected to not be very welcomed. Either way, he was here and they have a case to solve. A new sets of eyes could be really helpful.
A brief silence stretched again, everyone making their mind about the Doctor’s presence.
Morgan, who had been watching Dr. Reid closely, glanced around the room and nodded. “That’s good enough for me. Let’s go, then.” He said, collecting his case files. The tension in the room ceased in an instant, giving way to a flurry of activities.
“We don't have much time. Wheels up in 30.” Hotch commanded, walking out of the room with a last glance at Dr. Reid. Rossi was next, shuffling behind him with a nod.
That left Prentiss with Morgan and the young Doctor. ' He must be nervous ,' Prentiss thought. “Have you packed your stuff for travelling, Doctor?” she asked, taking pity in the young genius’ timidity. The poor thing looked uncomfortable, still clutching the strap of his bag tightly.
He was young and not particularly sociable, she had profiled earlier. Probably bullied too in his childhood, judging by his age and this… skittish air around him.
Dr. Reid’s head snapped up, apparently not expecting to be talked to. “Ah- just Reid, please. And, yes, I have a bag ready.” Reid smiled, this one less awkward than the grimace he had been wearing. He patted the well-worn messenger bag that hung from his shoulder, stuffed full with his belongings.
Prentiss smiled back, hoping to ease his nerve.
Morgan watched the exchange with interest, and inclined his head to Reid. “All right, then, Reid. See you on the jet.” Morgan said lightly before walking out of the conference room.
Reid, for his part, only looked mildly startled, his eyes catching Prentiss’ amused ones. “The what?” He asked, bewildered.
“We’re going in a jet, Doctor.” Prentiss answered, grinning. She watched gleefully as Reid processed the information, a minuscule frown on his face.
“You guys have a jet?” Reid asked in astonishment.
"Oh, we sure do. Don't worry, there will be coffee up there, too." She informed as she went out, throwing a knowing look to the cup of coffee Reid had been clutching in his hand.
If she had stayed a little longer, she would've heard Reid muttered to himself. "How did she know that?"
iii. Morgan
"Good morning, crime fighters!" The small screen nestled on the jet popped up, startling the young Doctor. Morgan, perched next to the sofa, grinned as he watched Reid's wide-eyed surprise at the sudden noise, almost knocking the cup of coffee from his hands. It seemed that being a genius doesn't exempt you from the wonders of Penelope Garcia, after all.
"The Oracle of Quantico has done it again! I did some special diggings for you, my lovelies, and I have found some of the ickiest details about our latest victim. Just speak the magic words, and your wish is my command!" Garcia cheerfully informed.
Morgan's half-attempt at covering his snickers went unnoticed as everyone was fixated on watching the young genius's mouth fall open. He really has an expressive face, Morgan noted. One that was very emotive and quite frankly, still very young with plenty of naivety etched to it. Just like a kid, Morgan thought wistfully. Had he looked like that when he was a greenie in the force? He hoped not.
"We've got a guest, baby girl. Behave." Morgan chided, once again smirking at the way Reid whipped his head towards him. Oh, he is in for so many surprises today, Morgan thought, snickering at the back of his head.
"Huh? What—Oh! Is that the Dr. Reid?! Hello, O' Genius One! You're younger than I’ve thought!" Garcia greeted, waving her fluffy pen excitedly.
"Uh. Hi?" Reid replied, confused.
Garcia did not take any offense to his lack-than-enthusiastic response as she continued with her energetic introduction. “As someone must have mentioned already, I’m Penelope Garcia, your amazing tech analyst!” She bobbed her head excitedly.
“Um– Nice to meet you, Miss Garcia.” Reid replied dutifully. It was still awkward, but he spared her a tiny little smile.
On the other side, Morgan shared a smile with Prentiss as they watched the exchange. It’s like introducing baby kittens , he mused.
Someone cleared their throat pointedly, breaking the moment.
"Garcia. The information?" Hotch, ever the referee, interrupted before the situation could escalate. Morgan understood the urgency, remembering the nature of the case, and he also know how easily Garcia could get distracted.
Garcia fumbled for a second, mouth hanging open before quickly snapping into attention. "Oh, yes, sir!"
She then launched into graphic details about the case just she had just promised. ”The victims, as you all know, are all high-end socialites living in DC. The victims were women, aged between 24 to 29. They were all strangled and beaten badly, but the cause of death was blunt force trauma to the head.” She briefed, eyes scanning her monitor.
“Those are high-profile victims. This could’ve been the work of an insider.” Prentiss speculated, looking around the jet.
Garcia raised her fluffly pen back at her words. “Oh, I’ve done some preliminary checks on that! And surprisingly, none of the victims’ family and associates are suspicious. No one has ever gotten any arrest, and the worst thing I’ve found are parking tickets.” She said, sounding rather impressed.
“Any immediate connection between the victims, Garcia?” Hotch asked.
“None, sir.” She answered. “As far as I can look up, none of them even knew each other. No intersecting business and no relatives whatsoever.”
Well that certainly makes it harder, Morgan thought.
“Okay. So, other than the fact they are in their mid 20s, rich, and living in Lexington...” Rossi started, raising his eyebrow. "None. That's it. Their similarities, if any, ends there." He concluded.
“Were these people just a victim of opportunity, then?” Morgan said, out loud. With no apparent connections, the unsub could’ve spotted them somewhere in Lexington and decided to impulsively grab and kill them.
Hotch interjected. “He strangled them and beat them until their face was unrecognizable. These are signs of overkill. It must be personal.”
“That’s true. The act of strangling someone is very intimate and requires quite a lot of strength. If the unsub is using his hands, he could be compressing the larynx and fracture bones in the neck, causing asphyxiation. The victim may also struggle, but unconsciousness typically occurs in 10 to 15 seconds.” Reid contributed, pointing at the photos on the file. “And seeing the marks on the victim’s neck, they’re in varying states of healing. This could mean that the killer strangled them first, multiple times before he hit them with a blunt object.” Reid explained, his hands motioning along as he talked.
Morgan, for the lack of a better word, stared.
When you’ve stayed in the field for some time, you started to pick up these medical knowledge. Morgan did too, to an extent. But Reid, Dr. Reid, sounded quite intimate with these facts.
“Thought you said you’re not a medical doctor, Reid?” Morgan commented, now curious. The case and the unsub vacated a bit to the back of his mind, focusing on their newest consultant.
Reid looked sheepish. “No, I don’t. But I read a lot.” He offered as an explanation.
He wasn’t lying, the profiler in Morgan’s head said. Well, either way, hiding an MD wouldn’t make any sense. For someone who was in academia, Reid could’ve easily breezed through medical school. Morgan wondered why he didn’t. He had a knack for it.
“What about prior cases with similar MO, Garcia?” Hotch queried.
Garcia hummed, her keyboard clicking in the background. “Let me check on that.” She said.
“Lexington is a big city, though. There are probably crimes with similar MO,” Rossi pointed.
Reid nodded. “It’s true. The is the second-largest metro area in Kentucky just after Louisville with 285.5 square miles of area. In 2010, the city has over 295,803 people living there, making the population density to be 1,402.8 people per square mile.” He recited.
“Wow,” Garcia said, quietly, voicing Morgan’s exact thought.
Prentiss whistled. “That’s impressive, Reid.”
Morgan exchanged glances with her, his curiosity now piqued. "You got a photographic memory or something, Doc?” He asked. Hotch, sitting next to him, allowed the conversation to continue, glancing at Reid.
Reid shifted in his seat. “No, actually. I have an eidetic memory, it’s primarily related to writings.” Reid explained. It seemed to be a running theme today, with all of these different sides of him that the team was subjected to.
“That must’ve come in handy.” Rossi commented. Being able to recall details of the case with such precision? No wonders the CIA wanted him. There must be a list of ABC soup lining to recruit the kid.
Reid offered a half-smile at Rossi’s appreciating tone. “Yeah.” He replied, softly. The way he said it didn’t exactly match his words. It was subdued and nuanced. There was a story right there, Morgan knew.
Deeming it to be enough, Hotch once again directed the conversation back. “When we land, Morgan and Prentiss should go check out the crime scene. Garcia, dig into the MO and try to find more info about our victims. Paper trails, social media, all the works. Dave will examine the body. And, Dr. Reid,” he said, turning to the younger man. “Will you join me to talk with the local police?”
Reid nodded. “Sure.” It was framed as a question, but Reid himself must’ve known that he didn’t have much choice. He didn’t seem to mind, though. And Morgan privately thought Hotch just wanted to keep him close.
“Great. We’re landing in ten. We can go over the victimology later in Quantico and coordinate from there.” Hotch nodded, and it was the end of the briefing. The sound of the jet engine blanketed them once again.
iv. Rossi
The medical examiner basically told him the same thing Dr. Reid had said.
“Judging from the bruises on the neck, they must be strangled repeatedly antemortem, before they are killed.” Rossi repeated the findings back a couple hours later at the police station, where Morgan and Reid were busily trading ideas. It seemed that Hotch was away, possibly interviewing the families with Prentiss.
“Toxicology reports are also negative. But there’s this small trace of burn along the victim’s wrist. Probably from the defensive wound.” Rossi added. Right at that moment, a smartphone by the table lit up, buzzing slightly. Morgan scooped it up, turning on the speaker.
“What'cha got, Sweetness?” Morgan asked, answering the call.
“Other than my hot, burning love for you? I have some juicy information, Hot Stuff.” Garcia purred into the receiver.
From the corner of his eyes, Rossi saw the way Reid blinked rapidly, tilting his head as if he was figuring out if his ears were tricking him. The kid had never been around Morgan and Garcia, so Rossi gave him a pass. He’d get used to it, anyway.
Morgan seemed to notice it too, sneaking a glance at the young Doctor. “You’re on speaker, Baby Girl, and I think you’re scaring the Doctor here.” Morgan said, throwing a smirk towards Reid.
From his position, Reid shook his head, his hair flopping around. He mouthed a ‘no!’, which only made Morgan raise his eyebrow. He reminded Rossi of a puppy, oddly enough.
“What have you got, Garcia?” Rossi asked, taking pity on Reid.
“As I have told Chocolate Thunder over here, I came bearing information! So I checked around for the victims’ credit card, online activity, and all that jazz. Now the only overlap they have is that they have visited a local library shortly before their deaths.” Garcia said, coming back to the topic
”A local library? Could that be where the unsub saw all of his victims?” Morgan asked. It would make sense, and could even possibly be the unsub’s hunting spot.
“Garcia, can you run background checks on all of the employees?” Rossi requested.
“Already ahead of you, sir. They have six employee and they are all squeaky clean. None of them have a record of any kind.” Garcia quipped.
“Do they have CCTV in the library?” Reid asked.
Garcia hummed. “They do…but they’re old-timey and I can’t access them from here. Well, I can , but I need some time. I’ll get back on you to it, Garcia out!” She disconnected.
“We should pay the library a visit.” Rossi stated, earning the twin nods from Reid and Morgan.
The trip to the library was, for the lack of a better word, pointless. The employee didn’t recognize any of the victims. Plus, to say the CCTV was old was a major understatement. They were also very sparse and few in between, leaving a large amount of space uncovered. Resulting, yet again, in zero sighting of the victims. Or the potential unsub.
“Well, that was a bust.” Morgan commented, the first one to do so since they walked out of the building.
“Tell me about it.” Rossi sighed. He figured Hotch would want them to regroup and went over the victimology again back at the precinct, maybe going over the case files once again.
He started for the car, but then noticed his two companions weren’t following. Instead, when he looked back, the young Doctor stood frozen on his place, face pulled into an intense frown. Rossi could easily imagine smoke coming out of his ears with how hard he was thinking.
Morgan noticed too, watching Reid thinking. Morgan, however, wasn’t lost in his own world that he looked up. He must have felt Rossi’s questioning glance.
Morgan shrugged.
Okay, then. “Penny for your thoughts?” Rossi called. He was not surprised that Reid took more than a minute to even respond.
“Hm? I’m sorry, what?” Reid looked up, finally torn out of his reverie. He blinked at the two, not noticing he was spacing out.
“You were thinking pretty hard, there, Doc.” Morgan said. He led them from the building again, and Reid followed. "Care to share it with us?" He asked, not unkindly.
Reid opened his mouth. “Oh, I was just thinking about the mark of the arrow through the heart. I think it comes from The Cupid and Psyche story, but I’m not sure...” He stroked his chin in contemplation.
Rossi inclined his head to Morgan, who gave him a look back, also not understanding. Reid took no notice of the exchange, once again sucked into his mind as his steps faltered.
He paused and his head abruptly shot up. "I— sorry, I need to go back to the library for a bit." He said, agitated. He only took one step before turning back to Rossi and Morgan. "If it's okay, would you wait for me in the car? It wouldn't take long, I promise." He said, quickly. He worried on his bottom lip again, which Rossi had established as his nervous tell. That, and the huge eyes wide open, practically pleading at them.
"If you think that it's related to the case, then, sure." Morgan assured.
Reid nodded. "Yes. I think I might know the unsub's motive, but I have to check it first."
"We'll meet you in the car." Rossi said.
The sparkles in the young Doctor's eyes really made Rossi think twice about the Bureau and their reason for not scouting him as an agent. He clearly had the brains for profiling, and an arsenal of degrees to prove that. Though , Rossi conceded, he is still young . Too young, actually. He must've graduated from highschool early, being able to finish multiple degrees and recruited as an agent to boot. Rossi wondered how he managed to keep the naivety around him, what with his apparent experience in the field. The murders and psychopaths must've changed him somehow. But what Rossi saw now was just an enthusiastic, if not awkward, agent.
"Okay, Reid, slow down. Tell everyone what you just found." Rossi puts his palms up, motioning Reid to pause. Rossi sent a look on Hotch's way, motioning him to sit.
"So the mark of an arrow through the heart was about Cupid, right? You see, in the story of Cupid and Psyche, Cupid was sent to kill Psyche under Venus' order. But he became enamored with Psyche and arranged for her to take his palace, where he only visited at night. But Psyche's sister convinces her that Cupid must be this hideous monster so she gets her a lamp to see him.” Reid explained, his hands flying in the air, gesturing wildly. He was undoubtedly excited now, his tone hitching every now and then. “Psyche used it one night and was surprised by Cupid’s beauty and ended up dripping hot oil from the lamp on him, and he abandoned her. This unsub must be thinking that he was Cupid, visiting all those girls at night so they can't see him! And when they inevitably did, he strangled them and killed them." He finished, eyes wide and shining brightly. It felt like energy was coming off of him in waves, and he didn’t look too out of breath from all those explanations. .
Hotch contemplated all of it, eyebrows drawn closer. "So the killer must've come quietly at night, sneaking into their bedrooms to watch the girls. And when they woke up, going to turn on their lamp, he got angry and killed them?”
Reid nodded. "Yes, the killer must be exposed to this kind of literature from a very young age for it to affect him like this. In fact, this kind of psycho-linguistics profile has been used to catch killers like the Scarsdale Skinner, where his reading habit influences the way he kills!" He finished.
Rossi frowned. Now he might be gaining in his years, but those words were familiar, somehow. Like he had read it before…
"Wait. Wasn't that from my book?" He asked, looking up at the young genius.
Reid stopped, his mouth curled into a thin line. He nodded slowly, fingers now fiddling with itself. This was a drastic change from the enthusiastic kid who was just finished explaining the Greek mythology to them.
Rossi tried to say as nonchalant as possible, as if he was not, well, surprised. He knew Reid loved to read, but he wouldn’t figure him to be reading his book. And considering his eidetic memory, this could only mean one thing. "Ah, so you have my book—"
"—memorized? Yes." Reid answered, eyes shifting downcast. His hair flopped forward as he ducked his face, obscuring his expression.
'Signs of shame and low esteem,' Rossi noted. What kind of things had been said to him, exactly, that caused him to be so embarrassed like that? That question would unravel many mysteries about this young genius, but Rossi doubted he’d be open to sharing his feelings like that, much less to a bunch of strangers. The thought would have to take a backseat, then.
After exhausting all of the information available in Lexington, they went back to Quantico, ready to go over the victimology. They would also deliver the profile here, where a coordinated task force had been formed per the Director’s order.
'The joy of politics,' Rossi thought dryly.
"All right, guys. Quick dinner break. We’ll regroup in an hour.” Hotch dismissed the team. They were holed in the conference room, as usual. Everyone took up the offer, pushing away their case files and heading straight to the break room.
"Hey, Reid." Rossi called, catching the young man still buried nose deep in case files and notes. He had been pouring over it all the way back too, and it looked like he wasn’t planning to stop.
"Come sit with us and have dinner, you can continue the profile after that. They won’t go anywhere." Rossi said, gesturing to the stack of books piled in front of Reid, scattered all over the desk.
The young genius looked up, but didn’t answer. He pursed his lips instead, and Rossi knew exactly what he was going to say, so he offered. "I'll even let you talk about my book, if you want?"
It was a good bribe, if he could say so himself. Effective too, from the way Reid’s eyes brightened and the files immediately forgotten.
"Really? Awesome! I’ve been meaning to ask you about that Scarsdale Skinner case in ‘68, I’ve got so many questions to ask!” He excitedly said.
Rossi indulged him with a smile.
“Oh, wait. I'll just grab some coffee from the cafe across the street!" The kid continued. “No offense, but your coffee doesn’t really, um, agree with me.” He said, sheepish.
Rossi nodded. The coffee there was better. And if Reid was as caffeine-addicted as Rossi had profiled, he would surely appreciate their latte better.
"Sure, kiddo." Rossi agreed, the nickname slipping up. He probably shouldn’t call a CIA agent with three PHDs a kid but, well, Reid didn't seem to mind either way. He positively jumped from his seat and made his way out of the conference room, some springs on his step.
Rossi watched him go, shaking his head with a fond smile.
v. Garcia
It had been almost two hours since the team had gotten back to Quantico, where Garcia had also finally met the infamous Dr. Reid. He was very tall and awkward and Garcia had to suppress the urge to squeeze his cheeks. It wouldn’t be professional and Hotch would be glaring at her if she did.
He was also a genius, apparently. Not a tech genius like her, obviously, but more of the I-can-count-without-a-calculator kind of genius. And he was very young! Almost too young to be a field agent, really. But being a genius had it perks, and Garcia would be the first one to tell you that.
Now, Garcia was running along the sixth floor, her high heels clacking furiously against the tile as she searched for Hotch. ‘ Oh no, oh no, oh no!’ her mind screamed.
"Sir, Dr. Reid is missing!" She gasped urgently, almost running into Hotch as she banked on a corner.
"What?" Hotch asked, sharply. His intimidating eyes zeroing in on Garcia, who could only gape. Her brain was a wreck, thousands of bad scenarios playing inside but she couldn’t get a word out.
“He said he was going to get a coffee from across the street. How could he be missing?” Rossi questioned, looking disturbed.
Garcia nodded, finally finding her voice. "Yes! But it seems that he was walking to the basement instead of the front door and, and, he was coming out of the lift but then he's gone! Poof! He never made it to his car and oh gosh—" Garcia stopped, realization dawning in. "That means the bad person was in Quantico! He was here and he kidnapped Dr. Reid and, and—" Garcia panted, unable to continue her thoughts.
"Wait, wait. Slow down, Baby Girl. Start from the top. You said Dr. Reid had gotten out the lift?" Morgan asked, putting a broad palm on Garcia's shoulder. It didn't manage to cease her shaking, but it did ground her to the present. A tiny bit.
Garcia turned her face toward him, unblinking eyes wide in fear. "Uh-huh. The camera caught him getting out of the lift in the basement, but the one in the parking lot didn't show anything." She said, relaying the information in a choked up voice.
“Is his car still there?” Prentiss asked, to which Garcia confirmed as yes, his car was still in the basement.
"Hotch, there are at least half a dozen cameras in the parking lot, but only two near the lifts. The unsub must've known their exact locations and planned the abduction." Morgan analyzed.
Hotch nodded, terse. "Garcia, you should check on the other cameras and see if any of them caught Reid or any suspicious person around the parking lot." He ordered. Garcia was forever grateful that Hotch could always keep a clear mind on times like this.
Prentiss inclined her head. "Hey, this guy is a field agent too, right? I mean, he has a gun. Why didn't he use it?" she asked.
"Maybe there’s a gun pointed at him so he had to cooperate?" Morgan offered. Garcia turned to him, horrified. “There is no way he can get a gun out without anyone noticing, though.” He continued, pushing pressure into the palm on Garcia’s shoulder. They were in Quantico , this place should have been a fortress! Garcia shuddered to think about a psychopath killer strolling around the building.
"No, he's a trained agent. He would most probably try to disarm the unsub or talk him down if he was threatened. There would be a scuffle, but there is none." Hotch said, shoulders taught.
Rossi nodded. "And he's smart, too. He would've left clues around the area to help us track him."
"That means he never got a chance to react. He must've been ambushed from behind, a blitz attack." Morgan grimaced. Garcia’ eyes went wide. She didn’t even consider that! She could feel the tears pricking at the corner of her eyes, heart aching with the thought of Reid laying on the floor, being dragged by the unsub.
"We'll have to inform the CIA." Prentiss reminded, grimly, looking at Hotch. Garcia’s gaze went to her boss, whose stony expression turned even more tense.
Rossi sighed. "They are not going to be happy about this." He shook his head.
"I know. We'll have to find him before the CIA comes breaking our doors down." Hotch grimaced. A mountain of paperwork and fickle bureaucracy politics would definitely get involved. And Garcia knew that no one in their team, not even Hotch, was fond of juggling the political side of running the BAU.
But still, Hotch took a moment to think before squaring up his shoulders. "Okay, so Dr. Reid has been kidnapped under our watch and the unsub is bold enough to take him here, at Quantico. Bringing Dr. Reid back is our priority right now.” Hotch started, meeting the serious face of the team.
“Here’s what we’re going to do. Dave and Morgan, you go check the parking lot and surrounding area. No one should get in or out, it is a crime scene now.” Hotch said, glancing at Morgan and Rossi.
He turned toward Prentiss. “Prentiss, go back to the board and try to find if the unsub has a secondary location. If he does, that’s where he’ll be keeping Dr. Reid right now. And Garcia,” Hotch said, watching Garcia’s face for a second.
She could see the deep lines between her boss’s forehead, way more pronounced than usual. His lips were tight and his expression stern. Garcia was pretty stressed about this whole kidnapping thing, and she couldn’t even imagine what Hotch was thinking right now.
“Yes, sir.” She said, straightening up. Her voice quivered, but she was determined to do something, anything to get Reid back safely.
“Check the security footage from the lift and around the parking lot. I want it to be analyzed frame by frame. All of it.” He commanded, and Garcia nodded seriously. “I’ll be arranging contact with the CIA. Keep me updated, I’ll be at my office.” Hotch said with a final gaze, looking around one last time before the team dispersed.
Garcia caught Morgan’s small, encouraging smile before he headed out, and she gave a short nod.
What a horrible turn of event! Seriously, Garcia was willing to throw hands at this very nasty person if she ever sees him. For now, though, she had a dozen CCTV footage to go through very carefully, and she wasn’t going to waste any time. Reid’s safety depended on her.
'After all of this was over, we are so going out for a drink!' She vowed.
After half an hour watching the footage and no sign of Reid or the unsub, Garcia opened a second search, with a name in mind. She called up Morgan the second she finished reading the file.
“Talk to me, Mama. You’re on speaker.” Morgan’s voice greeted, rather subdued now.
Garcia tried to smile, but could’t find the strength to do so. “Hi. Yeah, so the CCTV has nothing. Nada. Zip. And I thought, hey, what would a profiler do? So I went and pulled up Dr. Reid’s file, even though I don’t really want to, it feels like a breach of privacy—” Garcia stopped. gasping.
"What is it, baby girl?" Morgan asked. She didn’t answer for a second. Even Morgan's velvety, low rumble of a voice couldn't snap her out of the shock.
"He's-he's a genius!" Garcia blurted, the fluffy pen on her grip swishing towards the screen. "He graduated high school at 12, went to CalTech immediately and got a degree in—Mathematics, Physics, and Engineering?! How come the FBI didn't snatch him when boy genius turned 21?!" She questioned, incredulous.
"Yeah, he told us that. Got some more bachelor's degrees too, right?" Morgan added, not sounding as surprised as she would’ve liked him to be.
Not awaiting an answer, she quickly went on another info spree. "Yes, two of them to be exact, but, oh! Oh, holy kittens that's not all! This boy got certificates as long as my grocery list! He's got an IQ of 187, he can read up to 20,000 words per second, and—and he has an eidetic memory!"
Morgan’s voice sounded a bit far, probably talking to Hotch. "He said it’s related to writings. That would explain the statistics and info dump. Kid's probably got whole books memorized in his head."
“What else have you found, Garcia?” Hotch urged. Garcia could barely hear the sound of his shoes stomping in the background, definitely power walking somewhere.
“Dr. Reid has been under the radar of so many Intelligence Agency since he was 15, all of them waiting for him to turn 21,” Garcia trailed, reading her monitor. She gasped at the next sentence. “Sir! Reid had— had been recruited by the FBI before! He was brought to the academy by Jason Gideon…” Garcia’s voice got smaller as she skimmed the rest of the article, eyes widening at the familiar name.
She could picture the exact frown Hotch was wearing as he asked. “What? That wasn’t on the record. Why didn’t he make it out of the academy?”
By now, Garcia’s eyes were glued to the screen, reading the content as fast as possible. “It says here he passed all of his class with flying colors, even being one of the youngest one to ever get in. But,” She stopped, rereading the file. “But he didn’t do so well on the physical evaluation and, and the FBI wouldn’t give him any leeway so he dropped out.” She explained, sadly.
“And the CIA immediately took him.” Morgan’s voice came. It was more of a statement, one that she assented to.
“Yes, exactly. Barely two weeks later, the CIA got in contact with him. Within a month, he was already on their program with special permission to wave his physical tests.” She said. That was a wasted opportunity, if she ever saw one. The FBI really missed out on a great asset!
Garcia clicked on another report, and promptly lost all the colors on her face. “He—he was supposed to be stationed in the BAU...” She stopped.
While she marveled at the fact that Dr. Reid would have easily been on the team for years , the other end of the phone went silent.
Garcia didn’t take any notice.
vi. Reid
Reid's first coherent thought upon being conscious was 'How could the FBI be infiltrated so easily?'
He groaned, feeling his temple throbbing angrily. He was in Quantico, for crying out loud. You would've thought a federal agency would have better security, but here he was.
He could only hope this incident was an outlier because this counted as a major security breach on the FBI's part and the CIA were just going to love this, he knew. He prayed for the person playing as a liaison between the two agencies right now. He wouldn't even want to get near it with a ten-foot pole.
Reid was aware that the wetness trailing near his temple must be blood. It must have come from being hit at the back of his head. A cowardice move, but one that was highly effective, nevertheless. He tried to wipe at it, but found that his arms were bound instead. Great.
The unsub, when he came into the room 12 minutes and 34 seconds later, was calm and collected. Reid tried his best to keep his breathing under control, even as the pounding of his head threatened to burst.
"You know why you're here, agent?" The unsub asked, watching Reid disinterestedly.
He didn’t recognize the man. White, 6’4”, black hoodie. He wasn’t in any of the suspect pools. This was dangerous. How could the FBI ever hoped to find him. then? He couldn’t even begin thinking about his team in the CIA. They would be furious.
Reid was, at once, aware of his body that was bound tightly to a wooden chair. His legs have gone numb, and his wrist felt raw from being tied together.
His captor tilted his head. “You didn’t know who I am.” He deduced.
Reid schooled his face, not wanting to give himself away. If the unsub knew they hadn't even identified him… He would be so much more confident, and Reid didn’t like the probability that he would keep him alive.
“That’s okay.” The unsub smiled. “You’ve figured out my story already, right? About Cupid and Psyche and Venus…” He stepped closer, yanking on Reid’s hair. “Answer me.” He whispered, dangerously.
Reid gritted his teeth. “Yes.” He hissed, and the grip loosened. Reid sighed.
“Then tell me, Agent. There is something missing. Something vital to the story. Can you remember what that is?” He asked, circling Reid.
Missing? What was missing? Reid racked his brain, full of memories and case files and the Cupid and Psyche story. Cupid was sent by Venus to kill Psyche, Cupid fell in love with Psyche’s beauty, placing her in his palace, visiting her at night…
Reid’s head abruptly shot up, watching the unsub smirking. “The hot oil.” Reid said, slowly. “Psyche dropped hot oil on Cupid so he abandoned him. The girls you killed, they turned on their lamp. They didn’t drop any oil on you.” He whispered.
“That’s right. Because I was the one who poured hot oil on them.” The man said, his smirk widening.
‘That would explain the burn marks,’ Reid thought.
“We’ve talked too much. I’ve got to go prepare something, Agent.” His captor said, eyes looking behind Reid.
Reid followed his gaze, craning his neck to look at the back of the room. He gasped at the sight. Two, big red cans were laying on their side, liquid gushing out steadily to the floor.
‘It’s gasoline and he’s going to burn down this place,’ Reid realized. He started to trash around, his wrists rubbing against the rope. “Stop! Just— just let me go and we can talk about this.” He pleaded, watching the man closely.
“No we won’t. I’ll be back in a minute, so shut your mouth for a while now, Agent.” The man replied, coming closer with a rag on his hand. Reid shook his head harder, a stream of 'No, no, no!' coming out of his mouth. He tried to avoid the gloved hands reaching to his face, but to no avail.
It was futile in the end, with him bound in one place and unable to kick the man away. He settled for glaring at the man until he left, a heavy metal door slamming shut.
He needed to get out of here and he needed to do it fast.
Reid forced his mind to focus and his body to settle down. Fight or flight was useful, but not when he was bound like this, the adrenaline only caused his heart to beat quickly. He took a deep breath, gagging slightly at the rag in his mouth, and started to make out on where he was.
It must be some kind of basement, with dingy lights and grey walls. He checked to see if the gasoline was still running, but the cans were empty already. The occasional drip poured down, and the whole place reeked now.
Reid tried to free his wrist, but there was no sharp object near him. His revolver was nowhere to be found. Typical. Maybe if he tipped his chair to the side, he’d be able to wiggle out of his bonds… So Reid set out his plan, calculating the force and the angle he’d need to land safely on his side.
And that was the position he’d found himself in when footsteps came behind the door, still bound and lying sideways. He struggled, hoping his long fingers could somehow untie the rope with pure force.
Alas, the footsteps stopped and Reid held his breath.
“FBI! Open up!” Someone shouted before the door was thrown open, Derek Morgan standing with a serious expression.
Relief washed over Reid in an instant. They came on time.
Morgan was quick to skid over to the chair where he was bound. He trashed again in his bind, desperate sounds coming out of his muffled mouth.
“Hey, hey, Doc. I’ve got you, okay? Hold still for a second.” Morgan appeased. His gun, which was pointed when he arrived had been put back into the holster. Morgan skillfully untied the rag from Reid’s head, worried eyes kept going back to check Reid’s face.
“Morgan.” Reid breathed. Taking the gag off had been a relief, but his hands and feet were still bound to the chair. ‘There’s going to be bruises,’ he thought distantly. What a horrific reminder that would be. But, alas, Morgan was still working on the complicated knot that tied his hands and if Reid’s head was still working correctly, the unsub had left 6 minutes and 43 seconds ago. He estimated the unsub would be back anytime now.
Seeing the little progress he’d made, Morgan moved to kneel in order to get a better hold on the rope. From his position, Reid could see the sweat collecting on the agent’s forehead,glistening under the light.
“Morgan,” Reid grunted. Morgan didn’t respond verbally, but Reid knew he was listening. “There’s— there’s gasoline all over the floor.” He informed, still panting.
“I know, Kid. We’re gonna get out of here.” Morgan replied, not looking at Reid.
Reid continued. “He’s going to burn this place down. He’s, he’s coming back any minute!” He urged.
“I know!” Morgan said, harsher. But he didn’t leave, and the hands working on his bind never stopped. Reid bit his bottom lip in worry.
The bind on his arms were just loosened marginally when he saw the shadows coming from the hallway. With angry steps and a butcher’s knife in hand, the unsub had come back. He raised the knife, the blade shining against the light,
“Morgan! Look out!” Reid shouted. In a split second, Morgan was rolling to the side, evading the lunge from the knife. The unsub wasn’t deterred, however, and raised it once again. The knife was heading towards Reid now, and he couldn’t do anything other than screwing his eyes shut.
Bang!
The man’s body lurched forward, wide eyes suddenly rolled back, and the knife went down to the ground with a hard clunk. Reid’s own eyes opened at its own accord, and he distinctly heard Morgan shoving the knife away with his foot.
There, standing behind the door, was one Aaron Hotchner, his gun raised. He was breathing heavily, but his arms didn’t waver. His shot had been clean and he did not in any way stumbled from the recoil.
A part of Reid’s mind immediately relaxed at the sight, aware that the danger had passed, but his body was still thrumming with adrenaline.
“Are you guys okay?” Hotch asked, stashing his gun away and regarded the two with assessing glances.
“Yeah. Yeah, we’re alright. Thanks.” It was Morgan who answered, as Reid could only nod along to his words.
“Good. Let’s get out of here.” Hotch nodded and turned towards the cooling body by the door, trusting Morgan to untie Reid.
Reid had no doubt that an EMT would be waiting up there, calling his name. With a sag, he leaned heavily against Morgan, his body still not listening to him.
“Thankyou,” he whispered. Morgan nodded against him, holding his body upright.
“Hotch.” Reid called the next morning, standing in front of Hotch’s office in the BAU. He’d passed by Morgan and Prentiss on his way here, smiling and joking with them for a little while. Rossi had ruffled his hair when he thanked the man, and he was smiling widely by the end of it.
Hotch put down the file on his hands. “Yes?” He asked, meeting Reid’s shifty eyes. Reid carefully closed the door behind him.
“I, uh,” Reid paused, shuffling his feet a little. “I just want to say thankyou. For finding me and, and—for saving me in that basement.” Reid rushed out. He was weirdly nervous for some reason, but he intended to look Hotch properly in the eyes and to purposely thank him for saving his life.
Maybe Hotch was used to this. To people coming up and thanking him for saving their lives all the time because he, unlike Reid, was not weirded out by it. “Of course, Reid.” He answered finally, after watching Reid for a second. Profiling him, probably.
“You’re under our care, of course we’d save you. I’m sorry, though, for putting you in that position in the first place.” Hotch shook his head slightly.
“No!” Reid quickly objected. “It’s nobody’s fault. Especially not you or your team. It’s a part of the job, right? And you guys also saved me, so.” He finished lamely.
Hotch assented. “It is. There’s always a risk.” Hotch looked on for a moment. “Besides, we wouldn’t want the CIA angrily banging our door for harming their resident genius, would we?” Hotch said, a small smile to his lips.
So he can even joke sometimes, Reid thought, a little surprised. But he smiled back. “How— how did you even find me, anyway?” Reid asked, unable to stop the question from spilling out of his lips.
Hotch regarded him. “We checked the CCTV around the lift and the basement but you weren’t there. But then I realized we haven’t checked the CCTV outside of the building, and we caught him and his car on camera.” He explained. He did it unhurriedly, unlike those other times Reid saw him during the case.
“He wasn’t in the suspect pool.” Reid stated.
Hotch leveled him an assessing glance, and nodded. ”He wasn’t. His name was Alan McArn, and he was an electrician. That’s why he could get access to their house.”
Reid hummed in acknowledgement. “Don’t you want to ask why I went to the basement instead of the coffee shop?” He offered.
Hotch didn’t answer immediately. “Only if you wanted to.” He said, sincerely.
“I went to my car to, um, to get my copy of Rossi’s book. He was going to talk to me about it.” Reid admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. He felt his ears burning, but he was really excited that David Rossi was going to discuss his book with him! That would be a once in a lifetime experience.
A knock at the door stole the two men's attention, as a very bright woman peeked from the door. "Sir? I'm so sorry to interrupt, but— oh! Dr. Reid!" She asked, entering the room.
"Hello, Miss Garcia." Reid greeted, smiling slightly as he remembered the woman's cheerful countenance.
Garcia shook her head, displeased. "No, no, no! None of that 'Miss Garcia' stuff. We've talked a lot on the case! Right?!" She asked, exasperated.
Bewildered, Reid's eyes found its way to the unit chief. Hotch, who could've told Reid on how to respond, just raised an eyebrow, eyes alight with amusement.
With no help coming from him, Reid turned to face Garcia’s displeasement, "Uh, okay, then, Garcia..?" He said, slowly, like he was testing out the name on his lips.
"Okay, that's better! We're getting somewhere, at least." Garcia nodded, satisfied. For now Reid’s mind supplied.
As per usual, Hotch cut into the conversation smoothly. "What do you need, Garcia?" he asked.
Garcia turned her attention to him again. "Oh! Sir! I was just about to ask if you're free tonight, Rossi is inviting us for a lasagna at his place! And, and Reid can come with us, right, sir?" she implored, bouncing on her toes.
Hotch smiled. "I don't know. Can you, Reid?" he asked.
"Sure." Reid replied, a tiny smile began to form. He had a distant thought that it would be awkward, seeing as he really didn’t know them that close. But, maybe the risk would be worth it. And, if it were any consolation, Garcia seemed pretty genuine in wanting him to come with them. And if she was there, Reid knew the mood would never be bad.
Garcia visibly brightened, clapping her hands. "Great! Prepare for that brilliant mind of yours to be blown off, my genius, because you're about to experience the authentic Italian cuisine at Rossi's gigantic mansion!"
“Sounds great.” Reid replied, smiling.
To his surprise, it was Hotch who answered. “It is.” He said with a warm smile.
Reid believed him.
Garcia walked out, her shiny heels clicking on the floor. Right before the door closed, she turned and shouted. "It's a casual night, so lose the sweater vest!"
“But sweater vests can be casual?” Reid said out loud, tilting his head.
Hotch didn’t answer. He said instead, “Dress comfortably. We’ll see you at seven. Oh, and bring the book.” Hotch advised.
Reid grinned. He wouldn’t miss it for his life.
The end.