Flight Risk | Spencer Reid

I

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In which a profiler meets a pilot

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He's surprised to see a stranger by the jet. He's arrived early for their flight, figuring he can while away the time with a book. It's common to run into either of their pilots in the hangar, their faces are fairly familiar. From time to time Reid sees them sitting on a bench near the plane. One man with bright red hair, the other with deep tan skin and a no-nonsense expression. This person is a completely new face. It's a young woman, and she's wearing the uniform of a pilot – white shirt, black tie. Three gold stripes on her shoulder epaulets indicate she's a first officer, as do the cuffs of her blazer, carefully folded at her side.

There is a book in her hands and upon closer inspection he can see it's Peter Pan. Something about amuses him, and he smiles. At that moment, she looks up, and after a brief moment of wide-eyed surprise, she offers him a small smile, setting JM Barrie's magnum opus aside and standing to greet him.

"Hi there! You're a little early, aren't you? Hotch said it was wheels up at noon, we've still got forty minutes."

How does she know Hotch? "I'm sorry," he says. "Are you one of the pilots? I've never seen you before."

She nods. "Yeah, well Martin's wife just had their third baby, so he's decided to find a job that will keep him closer to home. You BAU agents are always jet-setting off somewhere at the drop of a hat."

"Martin?" Reid asks. It's surely one of the men he's noticed before, and he feels a twinge of guilt and embarrassment at not knowing their names. After all, these men have been flying them around the country for nearly a decade.

"The one with red hair," she clarifies. "The serious one is Arthur Dobson, he's the captain. Anyways, Martin left and I've known Arthur for a while. My previous posting wasn't always steady, and he helped get me an interview for this one, so here I am! Oh," she adds, a mere afterthought. "I'm Y/F/N Y/L/N." It's really nice to meet you."

"Dr. Spencer Reid," he says.

Y/N starts to stick out her hand, then pulls it back quickly. "Oh my gosh, I'm sorry, you don't shake hands, do you? Arthur mentioned that. Sorry." He wonders what else Arthur has mentioned about the team. It occurs to him that he's interacted with the pilots only a handful of times, and yet they remember something like that. How much do they overhear on the jet? How much do they know?

It's so easy, in the back, to forget that there are two other people on the plane. Two other people who live by crazy schedules, whose lives are controlled by the activities of serial offenders around the globe. These figures always in the background, keeping the minibar stocked, making sure the coffee maker works, getting them home after a rough case no matter how early or late it is.

Suddenly they have faces, suddenly they have names.

Reid has always been terrible at small talk, but as the only two people in the hangar, he feels obligated to keep talking. "So, this is your first time with us? How long have you been flying?"

"Oh, since I could first think happy thoughts." He tilts his head, caught off-guard, and she blushes. "It's, um, it's a quote from Pete-"

"I know where it's from," he cuts in, not meaning to sound as pretentious as it comes out. He tries to backtrack. "I just thought I was the only one who made jokes like that." Dumb literary puns and references, jokes that nobody else ever seems to laugh at.

Y/N visibly relaxes, glad that he gets it. "Not at all. I take every opportunity to do that. But to answer your question, I got my first pilot's license when I was 17. I've been flying with my ATPL for about four years now. This is my first flight with the BAU, but not to worry, this isn't my first time flying a G550, and Arthur has already shown me around Geff."

"Jeff?" he repeats. Is there some third person he didn't know?

"G-E-F-F," she says. "Or rather, G-F-F. That's what Martin dubbed the jet. G55, G-F-F. Geff."

"Geff." So their jet has a name too, apparently. He thinks it's the sort of thing that Garcia would be happy to know.

"Geff," she repeats. "So tell me, Doctor, what brings you out here so early?"

"I like to have a few minutes to sit and read before the case begins," he explains. "Once we board the plane, we don't have much time to ourselves. I try to fill my head with things I actually enjoy, knowing what I'll be doing for the next few days."

"Don't you have anyone to say goodbye to first?"

He clears his throat, awkwardly. "Uh, not really, no." Which is why he tends to come straight here.

The expression on her face changes, but it's not quite the pity he expected. It's closer to sympathy. Understanding. "I see. Then I suppose we're alike. It's just me and my cat. And a roommate. Like you said, it's a good time to get some reading done. What did you bring?"

He withdraws a copy of Ray Bradbury's Dandelion Wine, wishing he'd brought something more relatable. But she inspects the cover carefully, smiling.

"I loved Fahrenheit 451, but I've never read his other stuff. Would you recommend it?"

"Well, the writing in this one is definitely beautiful, and the metaphor he uses for childhood nostalgia are so fitting," he says, "but if you're going to start delving into Bradbury, I'd have recommend The Illustrated Man. It's one of my favorites."

"Duly noted." Her eyes shine and he can't help but wonder why it is that he's forgotten the pilots are people too. The plane doesn't fly itself, after all. Now, he's afraid he'll be all too keenly aware of the fact that there are two people mere feet from them, traveling with them on their journeys. An irreplaceable part of the team that manages to stay invisible. Still outsiders, despite shared experiences.

"Y/L/N!" A man's voice calls out, and Captain Arthur Dobson stands by the plane, cap tucked under the side of his arm, waiting.

"Coming, sir!" she calls. With an apologetic smile, she turns to him. "We have to go prep for the flight. But it's nice to meet you, Doctor. I'm sure I'll be seeing you around." Swiftly, she grabs her hat from the bench and puts it on before running over to the jet.

Alone again, he sits down on the bench and withdraws his book from his bag. He reads the same passage about dreams three times because he can see her and the captain moving about inside the plane. And for some reason, he hopes she's right.