Retribution, A Spencer Reid/Criminal Minds Fanfic

Chapter 63. Tracks Left Behind

The hardest thing he’d ever done was make his daughter return to that place.

When Reid had accomplished the task, had persuaded Melinda to abandon Hotch and made her understand that she wasn’t really alone, never really alone, as long as he drew breath…that he’d be coming for her…that he’d never stop coming for her…he’d felt something within him tear apart in long, slow, agonizing strips. He thought it might be his heart.

Reid had surprised himself with the iron strength of will he’d exerted to keep his emotions from overwhelming his defenseless daughter. He’d done his best to be firm and certain in order to imbue her with all the security of his own determination to find her. But he wasn’t sure of his success. There was no way to be certain of Melinda’s perceptions. She might have seen through him, without necessarily understanding what she was sensing.

Reid felt like a liar.

When the connection with his daughter was severed, when she was clear of Hotch, the young father had a terrible moment. He wanted to let go of all the control he’d been exerting; to scream in a never-ending crescendo that would make the entire world fall still to listen, awash in pain as soul-searing as what was tearing through him. But there was no time for such self-centered release. Hotch was still pressing Reid’s hand against his chest. The movement of his friend’s ribs as he panted, felt fragile and desperate.

Reid sensed, as he vacated, that the Unit Chief’s psyche was indeed wounded; that damage had been done. Again, he fought against his natural desire to investigate, to see if he could help and heal. He couldn’t take the chance that his continued presence might worsen Hotch’s condition.

And there were things he needed to do to find Melinda. Once again, he chose being a father over being a friend. He knew Hotch would understand.

Reid threw himself clear, pulling his hand out from under the Unit Chief’s. Finally, he allowed himself the sob he’d been holding in.

But only one. Time was pressing.

xxxxxxx

Reid fell back…and Rossi moved in.

To his credit, Morgan did, too; shelving his antipathy for whatever supernatural event had just occurred, and for the equally eerie connection between the two senior agents. He knelt beside Hotch while Rossi leaned forward, still holding one of his friend’s hands, his other placed against the jugular as he monitored the racing pulse.

Hotch’s eyes blinked, but looked bleary, still streaming the tears of the father and daughter who’d inhabited him.

“Aaron. Aaron. Focus, Aaron.” Rossi rested a palm alongside the angular cheek. “C’mon. Look at me. Aaron.”

For a moment the dark eyes flicked up, but then they closed. Hotch rolled up and swung his feet around, forcing Rossi to stand while he assumed a sitting position. Hotch leaned over his knees, hands gripping his head, breathing still labored. Rossi and Morgan took seats on either side of him.

Hotch could feel their support; hands on his back, his shoulders, his waist.

But his brain felt…disturbed…. Like a calm body of water whose surface is assaulted by a sudden hailstorm. Ripples spreading outward encountered ripples spreading inward, creating a chaos of patterned disruption.

Rossi had asked him to focus, but it was the one thing he couldn’t do. All he could manage was to gasp out…

… “I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay…”

Rossi’s and Morgan’s eyes met over their leader’s bent back. They both knew the words were a reflex, a way of telling them to leave him alone, to move on to other more important things than one damaged agent.