Retribution, A Spencer Reid/Criminal Minds Fanfic

Chapter 71. Psychic Burn Victim #2

Hotch was floating.

Muffled.

Cushioned.

It was an odd sensation. Not quite physical, but still edging on pain. The potential for agony was close.

Is this psychic pain? Haven’t I been through this before? I should know this.

For a moment he let himself drift and marveled at the strangeness of it all. Memories started sifting through. He didn’t exert any effort to retrieve them. In fact, he didn’t exert any effort whatsoever. Something was holding him as though he were wrapped in a phantom blanket. There were echo-things trying to reach him, but the blanket, or whoever was doing this to him, kept them at a distance. He could recognize them as pain, but they were hazy.

Someone’s taking care of me. Someone’s protecting me.

It was such a comfortable thought. There were very few times in Hotch’s life when he’d felt cared for in such a way.

Memories filtered down onto him like bitter flakes of ash.

He saw himself as a child, sick and hurt. His father turning up the music in the living room to cover his anger, so the neighbors could pretend they didn’t hear what went on in the Hotchner household. His mother…torn between wanting to care for him and facing her husband’s wrath if she did.

“Don’t coddle the boy. He has to learn to be strong on his own.”

When his mother resisted, she was hit and kicked and punched. And seven-year-old Aaron couldn’t help her…not with the broken arm his father had given him for his birthday and the strep throat he’d picked up in the ER when he’d been brought in for a cast the next day.

My fault. My fault she got hurt. My fault he hit her.

The ashes of his childhood drifted down and Hotch felt each one.

Yes. This is psychic pain. I have been here before.

xxxxxxx

When the Reid family reached the hotel, the team was waiting.

Hotch, Rossi and the doctor were sequestered in one of the bedrooms. Reid and Ana exchanged glances, feeling a muted turbulence coming from behind the closed door.

Oh, Spencer…no. Is this something Melinda did?

Reid hung his head. Yes. But it was me, too. Moving closer, he kissed the tip of his daughter’s nose. Ana got the feeling it was an act of defiance as well as love, as though he were proclaiming that there was nothing to fear; that his child’s actions were justified.

Ana’s eyes brimmed. Maybe they were, but that doesn’t make them right.

Reid looked around the spacious suite, appreciative of the standards to which Rossi could aspire. After a moment, he turned a puzzled frown on his teammates.

“Where’s Bescardi?”

Morgan grimaced in distaste at the very name, the very concept of the woman. “She’s a mess and I’d rather not see any more of the bitch.” He gave a sharp, dismissive jerk of his chin toward one of the closed doors. “We put her in the tub. Out of sight. Out of smell. ‘Til the doc can deal with her, I guess.”

Again, the Reids exchanged glances. Neither was picking up anything from the direction Morgan had indicated. Careful to keep herself between the bathroom door and Melinda, Ana stepped closer, gaze trained inward as she sampled the psychic currents with her empathy.