Retribution, A Spencer Reid/Criminal Minds Fanfic

Chapter 21. Biology and Beyond

Rossi found the doctor’s home without trouble.

It was as Millie had described it: the only house on the street sporting window boxes filled with brilliant red geraniums. Nighttime dulled the vibrancy of the flowers, but the shape of their foliage was unmistakable.

Rossi liked the idea of that strange, old healer having a horticultural hobby. Raising flowers was such a civilized, peaceful way to enjoy one’s spare time. He raised his hand to knock on the front door, but before knuckles met wood, the deep, strong voice of the house’s owner called to him.

“Come in. It’s not locked. No one locks doors around here. There’s never a need.”

Rossi smiled to himself. I suppose there’s no need for law enforcement around here either. Not with a cadre of people who can pick the crime right out of the guilty party’s mind.

Still, Rossi entered with caution, partially due to the conditioning of his profession that required stealthy care whenever intruding on another’s territory, and partly because knowing the old man had been aware of his presence before he’d given any sign of it, made him wary. Who am I kidding? It creeped me out! This whole place creeps me out. And I’m entering the home of the guy who’s the focal point of all the creepiness! For a few heartbeats, he empathized with Morgan’s aversion to ESP.

A deep, resonant chuckle reminded him again that thoughts were public property here.

“Forgive me. I’m splitting my focus and forgetting my manners. We’re in the back of the house. Down the hall. Third door on the right.”

Rossi followed directions and found himself in a large bedroom that drew its charm from the surrounding countryside. Dried flowers were framed, bringing subtle, whimsical shape and color to the walls. The drapes and bedding had a decidedly masculine feel and looked as though they might have been woven on a loom by the same hands that had fashioned the few pieces of furniture. Rough-hewn wood formed the bed frame, two large chairs, a dresser, and a desk. Despite the rustic material, the pieces glowed with the warmth imparted by years of use. A faint scent of beeswax told Rossi that the wood had endured many hours of hand-polishing.

The doctor belonged in this place. Rossi wondered how long he’d lived here, and if his hands were the ones that hewed the structure and its contents from the living forest around them.

“Welcome to my home. Your son is readying himself for a night’s rest…and healing. You may watch, if you wish. I think it will comfort him to know you’re here.”

Rossi had been giving the room a closer inspection, but something the doctor said made him turn. “If you don’t mind, please don’t call him my son in front of him. Would you mind?”

The old man’s ever-present half-smile told Rossi he was, if anything, amused rather than offended.

“You haven’t told him?”

Rossi shook his head. “I’m not sure I believe it myself.”

“Ah, yes. Your religion refutes such things.” The chuckle almost broke through again. “No matter. Once I have finished with your friend, you and I have other things to discuss.”

“I do have some questions.”

“And, hopefully, after working on Aaron, I will have more than a few answers.”

The door creaked a little wider and Hotch came around the corner, using walls and furniture to help his stiff body and injured leg navigate the path from bathroom to bedroom.

“Dave! You’re here.”

Rossi surveyed the slender frame, barefoot and wearing the threadbare, dark green robe Hotch favored and carried with him whenever they traveled. “I thought I’d check up on you. That okay?”