Retribution, A Spencer Reid/Criminal Minds Fanfic

Chapter 40. Thursday Next

Monday morning, after a mostly sleepless night during which Rossi disabled the webcam and engaged in a fruitless search for his missing possessions, he entered the BAU to find Hotch already ensconced behind his desk.

With slow, deliberate steps, he ascended the catwalk stairs to stand in the Unit Chief’s doorway. Hotch kept his head bent over his work, but Rossi could tell by the quick flick and glitter of the man’s eyes, that his presence had been noticed. Rossi also noted the tense neck muscles and the slight increase in respiration as Hotch’s chest moved a little more rapidly beneath the immaculate, blue dress shirt.

“Good morning, Aaron.” Low, expressionless, yet chilly.

The dark head lifted from its sham concentration. “Dave! Good morning! How was your weekend? Get any ducks?”

Rossi’s pace was measured, almost qualifying as a stalk. He approached to within inches of Hotch’s innocently smiling face. Reaching out one hand, he cradled his friend’s chin, raising the eyes to meet his own deadly stare.

“Mudge and I got two ducks. They were delicious.” He tightened his grip on the chin that tried to lift its way free. “BUT, when I got home I found the stench of weasel everywhere.”

“Weasel? I wasn’t aware Quantico had a weasel problem.”

Rossi’s voice remained expressionless. “Oh, yes. Skinny, stinking, sucking weasels. A BIG problem.”

“Sorry to hear that. Think you could let go of me now?”

Rossi let his hand slide up against the side of Hotch’s face. “Everything better be back in place by the time I get home, Aaron. I have connections you don’t even know about…connections that could do a man some painful harm. Are we clear?”

“I don’t understand, Dave.” Blank innocence.

Very well done, Aaron.

“Of course you don’t.” Rossi gave his friend’s face a parting pat…almost a slap…before turning and walking away.

He sighed as he went to his own office one door down. He would never hurt Aaron, but he hoped by using what he termed his “Mafia voice,” that the man would take him seriously and undo the interior decor fit for a princess. He’d gagged at the thought of sleeping in the room and had stayed in one of his guest rooms last night for the few minutes of rest he’d been able to grab. Mudgie, on the other hand, had curled up on the frothy, lacy bed and seemed delighted to have stuffed animals to nuzzle and chew.

This morning he’d realized the only clothes he could wear were his begrimed, weekend duck hunting, polo shirt and jeans. It was either that or one of the Disney fairytale gowns wafting about in his closet.

Weary head hanging, Rossi went to his desk and laid his briefcase on top. Walking around to his chair, he glanced up…

…and froze.

The same sickly stomach-swoop that he’d experienced the previous night upon seeing his transformed bedroom claimed him now. Directly across from his desk, high on the wall where he would see it every time he looked up, was the head of the original, lavender unicorn. It had been mounted on a plaque like a hunting trophy. It had taken the place of an expensive oil of a New England landscape from the 1700s.

It stank of weasel.

xxxxxxx

Carol Bescardi had come through her trumped up car trouble incident with flying colors. She’d expected no less. Pulling a few things loose under the hood once she was back in Tupper Lake had been child’s play. It allowed her to obtain a bona fide receipt from a garage for repairs, which she would brandish with confidence once she returned to Lake Placid.