Chapter Text
The team were tired. They’d solved the case, arrested the criminal, they should be able to go home, right? Ding dong, that’s where you’re wrong. The thing was, they all knew this guy was the Unsub. He fit the profile exactly, he had the means and the motive to commit the murders- narcissistic middle-class, middle-aged, repressed homosexual man, a cabin up in the woods at the back of town, and his divorce that had been confirmed at the time the murders started.
So, they knew they had their guy. The only problem was, the only thing they had was the profile, and half a number plate from one of the victims' cars. He hadn't spoken a word since being brought in, not even to ask for a lawyer or a phone call. And of course, without proper evidence or a signed or taped confession, they couldn’t hold him for more than 24 hours.
14 hours had passed, and the team were very close to tearing out their hair. If they were going to crack this, they would have to get creative.
Reid had sat staring at the case photos for 5 hours. When he closed his eyes, he could see still see them. He had then kept his eyes closed, as the quality of the photos was the same. They hadn’t changed of course, and the case wouldn’t progress until they had a confession, but it was the principle of the thing. The last thing he had eaten was a black coffee two hours ago, which was coincidentally the last time he had risen from his seat. Morgan, Hotch, and Emily were sat in the corner, discussing case details in low murmurs- he had had his eyes shut for so long they probably thought he was asleep. Gideon had gone back to the hotel when he realised that waiting was fruitless.
The door opened, drawing his attention, and he lifted his head groggily to identify the person entering. Gideon, headed straight towards him with a tense expression on his face. The others didn’t acknowledge him; all disgruntled at the fact he had left during such an important part of the case. He blinked a few times to wake up, and rubbed at his face with one hand, dragging the other through his hair as he clambered up to greet him.
Gideon stopped in front of him, and before he could speak, he had reached out and untucked his hair from behind his ears.
“Uh, Gideon? What are you doing?”
He was confused, slightly flustered, but Gideon's face betrayed nothing. He went to tuck his hair behind his ear again, a nervous habit he could never quite give up. Gideon grasped his hand before he could complete the movement.
“No. Leave it like that and follow me.”
He turned on his heel and walked out of the room. Reid looked over at the others, who had equally confused expressions on their faces. He shook his head and stumbled after Gideon.
Gideon led them to the interrogation room holding their suspect, Richard Bates, and opened the door, obviously intending Reid to follow him. He did, trailing after the older man.
A small knot of nerves had built under his navel, something thick and swirling. He wasn’t quite sure why, he never usually got this nervous interrogating a suspect, but the feeling made him feel slightly sick.
They sat, the sound of metal on concrete as they pulled back their chairs waking the third occupant of the room. His eyes locked onto Reid’s, and his eyes lit up. He leaned forward in obvious interest. They were predatorial reactions, fitting in the profile but no less unnerving. Reid glanced over at Gideon, looking for direction, but he was focused on the man on the other side of the table. There was amusement in his voice as he spoke.
“You an FBI agent?”
Reid nodded.
“Sure are pretty to be an agent. Young, too.”
That little tangle of nerves grew, and he fell back into one of his old tricks to deal with situations that made him uncomfortable- rambling. He trusted Gideon to stop him if he went wrong.
“Federal equal opportunity laws would prevent my not being hired on either the basis of my appearance or my age.”
He paused for a moment, considering.
“Well, unless I was under the minimum age requirement. Which I was when I joined.”
"Pretty thing like you wasn't meant for this kind of work. Only thing you should be doing is laying back and spreading them."
Ah. So that was why Gideon had him come in here. He felt anger replace his trepidation, but he quashed it quickly. He was in here now, and this might be their best chance to get a confession. He flinched, hard. Obvious. Perhaps a bit too hard, and a bit too obvious to be believable, but it seemed to work, because Bates’ eyes shined with glee.
"What's the matter? You don't like hearing that? Don't like someone talking about fucking you?"
Gideon huffed, an incredulous sound that would have gone unnoticed in a normal room. But this was no normal room, and the tension within it only amplified his reaction. Reid turned his head away, playing the part of the scared little boy. Bates turned his head over at him, a flash of anger behind his previously assessing eyes.
"What, you think I couldn't fuck pretty boy here? Oh, I could. I could fuck him hard. Make him moan. Make him scream. Maybe I will, too."
He was addressing Gideon, who’s head had tilted at the first crack in his façade. That didn’t mean to say that Reid’s anxious looks had been overlooked.
"Hey, I'm talking to you. You think you're too good for me or something, can't even look at me when I'm talking to you?"
His hand slammed against the cool metal of the table, and Reid jumped back. The man was angry, his calm demeanour crumbling. He looked over, and Gideon's was still firmly in place. Was this not getting to him?
It was the wrong thing to do. Bates looked between the two of them before breaking into a grin, his voice teasing.
"Oh, I see how it is. This your daddy, then? He going to protect you from big old bad me? He'll keep you safe, huh? Sit you on his lap. Sits you on his dick, too, I bet."
The implication made Reid flush a bright red, something he had been trying to avoid throughout the whole ordeal. The idea was disgusting, and his nerves were back in full force. He couldn’t meet either of their eyes. He hoped to God that the rest of the team were not sitting in on the interrogation, it was humiliating enough with just Gideon listening in. Bates continued, burning eyes making Reid’s skin crawl.
"You're just like the others. Always acting so prim and proper, but willing to take it up the ass all the same. But not for me, no. Always think they're too good for me. Too pretty, too refined for ugly, coarse old Richie. Well, I showed them. I showed them good. I can show you too, little boy."
His anger increased the more he spoke, and by the time he was done he had reached across in a pitiful attempt to grasp onto Reid’s arms. With the handcuffs securing him in place it was obvious to both parties that he wouldn’t be able to reach, but he still drew his arms back, revulsion clear in his movement. Gideon pushed him back down, and he landed heavily.
He cocked his head and spoke for the first time. His voice was as soft as always, an intensity hiding a deep well of anger and pain and other unspoken emotions.
"You showed them, did you? I don't think so. I don't think you had anything to show. Isn't that the problem? Isn't that why they wouldn't look twice at you? Because you weren't good enough. Because you couldn't satisfy them. Isn't that right?"
"I did show them! Fucking little college kids, not a care in the world. Me, I had to drop out of school to support my mother, 'cause my father was too fucking stupid to do it. Too fucking lazy and mean. So I never got to go to college, but I still know more than those assholes ever will. Well, they don't think they're so smart now, do they. Don't think they're too good now. I showed them what was what, ungrateful little bastards.”
He was left heaving from his outburst. Gideon stood, and Reid followed as if in some sort of embarrassed trance. He still couldn’t meet Gideon’s eye.
“That was intentional-”
It took him a moment to realise that Gideon was holding his phone to his ear.
"Check the records, find his parent's old residence. No, that's where the mother lives now. Find out where they lived when the father was alive. Yeah, well we may not have the time."
The obvious dismissal caused a wave of indignation to rise through him- he had suffered through ten minutes of some serial killer lusting after him just to get ignored? Yeah, no.
If he wasn’t so angry then he might have noticed the rest of his team filing out of the observation room.
Gideon hung up the phone and reached out to tuck Reid’s hair back behind his ears. He moved out the way and tucked it back himself, fingers shaking imperceptibly. Gideon gazed at him, passive as ever.
“That was intentional then, I take it.”
He had to fight the urge to wrap his arms around himself. He braced himself and stepped forward.
“You don’t ever, ever, make me do that again. Not without telling me what’s going on.”
All of him was shaking now, barely concealed rage coming to the surface now he had no one to trick, no one to convince of his obedience.
Gideon's unflinching face was not helping.
“You know I can’t promise that Spencer.”
“The fuck you can’t. I’m won’t follow you into a room alone or help you with an interrogation again. And I can promise that.”
He turned before he could see his reaction, only to see the shocked faces of the rest of the team. Emily’s eyes were positively aflame with anger and Morgan’s mouth was set in a grim line, a wall of steel built into his gaze. Hotch looked the same as he did, but his micro-expressions gave him away. Lips firmly set, jaw tensed, brows furrowed more than usual. He opened his mouth, and Reid had no idea what was about to come out- a reprimand for his language or a criticism of Gideon's underhand tactic.
He pushed through them before he could hear what he had to say.