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“Reid? Kid? Are you okay in there?” Gideon asked, knocking on the door. “It's me Gideon, and I brought Morgan along to.Look- we don’t want to have to come in, but it’s been awhile you’ve gone completely no contact, we need to make sure you’re okay,”
Nothing.
“Reid, come on you know we can take this door down if we have to,” Gideon said. “It’d be a lot easier on everyone if you just opened it for us,”
Still nothing.
“Bust it,” Gideon said, stepping back.
Inside was obsessively organized, but surprisingly messy at the same time. Things were color coordinated and stacked perfectly at the same angle, but there was broken glass and papers all over the floor.
“Robbery?” Morgan asked.
“No, I don’t think so,” Gideon said, picking up a paper off the floor. “Look at this,”
Diana Reid, Philip Dowd, Katie McGraniver, Samantha Kennedy, Randall Greenwood, Patrick Swayne, Mathew Grey, Indy Lewis, Thomas Wilson, Bryan Reynolds, Natalie Barton, Deven Moore, Sophia Thompson, Linda Thomas.
The names were written in Reids distinctive handwriting, which looked much more like print than anything handwritten, and they repeated over and over, on both sides of the paper. Morgan picked up another piece that looked the same, and they started to realize that the mantra of names was all over the apartment.
“Did he write all of this?” Morgan asked.
“He must have,” Gideon said.
“Why the hell would he do that?” He asked, tilting his head.
“Well, here’s a clue,” Gideon said, walking over to a whiteboard.
FACTS:
-schizophrenia is genetic
-it causes paranoia, delusions, and hallucinations
-your gun is locked, you need the new code to find it. It’s not missing, it’s locked.
-nothing will stop them other than drugs. Do not believe them .
-You are trained that if someone is out to get you, you will be fine.
“Damnit kid,” Morgan said, running into the kitchen.
“Does he have medication?”
“Renewed two months ago,” He said, repairing the orange bottle. “Why would he-”
“Common manifestations of the delusions are based on the medication,” Gideon said. “Spread out, see if you can find him. Have your phone ready,”
“Why?”
“We may need an ambulance very, very , fast,” Gideon said. Morgan nodded, unclipping his phone and slamming open his bedroom door. “And be quiet for crying out loud,”
“Why?” He asked. “Don’t we want him to hear us?”
“Trust me, if he’s here he’s heard us,” Gideon said. “He’s not just hearing things, you know he’s autistic to,”
“He is?” Morgan asked.
“What you didn’t know?” Gideon said. “Did you ever do your job ? Spend five minutes with the kid- ten tops- you should know by now,”
“I just… didn’t think about it,” Morgan said, shrugging.
“Well he’s already agitated by the looks of things, don’t scare him more, he might try to ‘protect’ himself,”
“What- it’s Reid he wouldn’t hurt us,” He said.
“No, but he might hurt himself,” Gideon said gruffly, searching the bathroom. “Nothing,”
“Closet light is on,” Morgan said. “Should I-”
“Let me,” Gideon said, gently walking up. “Put your gun away, you aren't going to shoot him either way,”
“Sorry, force of habit,” Morgan said.
“Well stop forcing it,” Gideon said. “Reid? Can you open the door?”
Nothing.
“We’re going to come in now,” Gideon said, opening the door slowly.
Reid was on the floor, his clothing disheveled, and his eyes half open. He was lying curled tightly on his side and his hair was messed up and hanging in his eyes- not neatly gelled down as it often was. His cheeks looked almost hollow and his skin was pale, the circles under his eyes dark. A notebook was clutched in his hand, and you could see his writing devolve on the page. He was shaking but other than that didn’t seem to move at all.
“Morgan, I think we need an ambulance,” Gideon said. “He’s severely dehydrated, possibly psychotic,”
“Possibly?” Morgan asked.
“Reid? Can you hear me?” Gideon asked, slowly walking into the room as Morgan stepped out, cell in hand. “I’m not going to hurt you, I just need you to drink some water while we wait for the ambulance. Can you drink something?”
Reid didn’t move, continuing to lie flat, his body trembling. Gideon removed himself, coming back a second later with a plastic water bottle from the pantry.
“Here,” Gideon said, sitting down right next to him and opening it. “I know you’re thirsty,”
Reid moved less than a inch, but it was enough for Gideon to see what looked like blood underneath the younger man. Ignoring his efforts to keep him calm, Gideon scooped up Reid, pulling him away and allowing him to see the entire pool, seeping down into the carpet.
“Lemme go,” Reid said weakly, trying to swing an arm at Gideon. “Lemme go, didn’t do… uh…”
“Reid, where are you hurt,” Gideon asked. “This is very important, where are you hurt?”
Reid didn’t say anything, and continued to stare at him, only moving to flinch away when Gideon grabbed him by his arm. He kept trying to pull away, but Gideon had been right about him being dehydrated -he wasn’t eating either- and he was far too weak to get away. That didn’t mean he didn’t give his all to escaping through, and he threw what little body weight he had at escaping.
“Did he do that to himself?” Morgan asked, walking in.
“I would have to assume,” Gideon said, struggling to keep Reid restrained. “See if you can find a weapon,”
“Let me go,” Reid choked out, catching both of their attention. “I didn’t mean to do it- let me go,”
“Didn’t mean to do what?” Morgan asked.
“Morgan he’s in the middle of psychosis now is not the time if you want a straight answer,” Gideon said.
“Please, I’m sorry,” Reid said in the same raspy voice. “I didn’t mean do,”
“What are you talking about?” Morgan asked, bringing himself level to Reid. “What's going on with you?”
“I’m sorry,” Reid said again, his voice broken and desperate.
“You’re agitating him,” Gideon said under his breath. “Don’t expect him to react normally right now,”
“But-”
“If you can’t be helpful then wait in the hallway,” Gideon said, glowering at him. Morgan was caught off guard by his behavior and cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Right. Sorry,” He said. Gideon shook his head, turning back to Reid, who was still somewhat trying to escape. “What would happen if you let him go?”
“What?” Gideon asked.
“He’s trying to get away,” As he spoke, Reid turned to look at him, his eyes wide and a little desperate. “What if you just let him go,”
“He would hurt himself. Maybe us too,” Gideon said.
“Please?” Reid whispered hoarsely, pulling with all his strength, which still wasn’t enough to even shake Gideon. “Please I can’t- I shouldn’t-”
“Reid, you’re okay. We have help coming to give you some medicine,” Gideon said. “It’ll help calm you down. Make you feel more like yourself,”
Reid shook his head, whipping his hair from side to side and muttering under his breath as he tried to pull away. Gideon adjusted a little, and he took the opportunity to try to break away again, this time accidentally slamming his head into the drywall of his closet.
“Hey hey hey,” Gideon said, yanking him closer to the middle of the room. “Stop that,”
“Please,” Reid asked, sniffing. “Please?”
“What does he want?” Morgan asked.
“No way to know,” Gideon said. “Well- he wants to hurt himself. I don’t know why. What he thinks he will get out of it,”
“Paranoid delusions,” Morgan said.
“Bingo,” Gideon said. “Do me a favorer- see how close his head is to that wall? Go sit there, make sure he can’t get to it,”
Morgan did as he was told, staring at his friend as he shook on the floor. Reid didn’t look like the criminals they normally arrest in psychosis, he wasn’t screaming or lashing out, and he didn’t seem scary. Mostly just… sad. And scared. Very, very, scared.
“I didn’t mean to,” Reid said suddenly, looking at Gideon. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean-”
“It’s okay,” Gideon said, his voice full of reassurance. “I know,”
“It should have been his leg,” Reid said shakily, his eyebrows drawn together. He turned to look at Morgan. “It was his leg. His leg. He died but I meant his leg,”
“Where the hell is the ambulance,” Gideon muttered.
“It’s icy outside and still snowing, if there's a night the hospital is overrun it's tonight,”
Reid kept muttering under his breath about a leg, occasionally looking up at them fearfully before baking further away. When he had hit his head a small cut opened around his temple and a thin trail of blood trickled down his face. Now that he was moving you could also see the original pool of blood had come from somewhere on his left arm. He looked strikingly young as he sat there, shaking and trying to fight off Gideon -he really was just a kid after all- and it made it harder to watch.
“Call back, cancel the ambulance request,” Gideon said after a pause.
“What?”
“Just do it,” Gideon said. “Then come here and hold onto him, I’ve got a idea,”
Morgan did as he was told and promptly picked up the phone, still looking unsure, and told the EMT’s that there had been a mistake and they weren't needed. After that, he switched off with Gideon, freeing him to go search the kitchen.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” Reid said shakily, turning to stare intently at Morgan, his brown eyes wide and almost tearful. “I didn’t know how to- I wasn’t trying. It was his leg,”
Morgan looked down at him, and finally realized something, a name on one of the papers catching his eye. “Phillip Down,” he muttered.
The guy from the bank. Reid had shot him in the head after Hotch slipped him his gun.
“It was supposed to be his leg,” Reid muttered again, his eyes not quite focused on Morgan.
“I think I figured out why these names,” Morgan said as Gideon walked into the room. “The first guy- Phillip Dowl, first guy Reid ever killed on the job. Had to save Hotch and said he aimed for his leg after getting a head shot. I had assumed he was joking,”
“Reid doesn't joke,” Gideon said, bending down. “So you’re thinking if that’s the first name…”
“All the other names are probably related,” He said. “Either guys he’s killed, or failed to save. Patrick Swayn was the third victim of some freak. He had enough information from the first two, just didn’t put it together in time to stop him,”
“If that’s what this list is, it's remarkably short,” Gideon said. “Doesn't even fill a whole page,”
“Seems long enough to him,” Morgan said. “Why’d you have me cancel the ambulance?”
“Antipsychotics right here,” Gideon said, holding up a syringe and bottle. “And plenty of water in house. No need for thousands of dollars in medical bills for some saline and a shot,”
“Those phycodics are strongly regulated, no way he has what he needs,” Morgan said.
“Phd in chemistry, you really think that with fbi level clearance he couldn’t make it himself?” Gideon asked. “There must be some way he’s kept it under control this long, probably gives himself a shot as soon as paranoia starts. With his mom in the state she is it’s likely that he inherited a more dramatic version of paranoid schizophrenia. For him to continue his job the way he has…”
“He has to be managing it himself,” Morgan finished.
“Hold him stedy, I doubt he’ll like this,” Gidon said as he prepped the syringe. Morgan followed the order, pinning the young man down as Gideon injected the cocktail of drugs into him. Surprisingly, Reid barely reacted, his eyes now locked onto Gedeon until he slumped down.
“It’s a powerful mixture, but it won’t remove his symptoms, just make them more manageable,” Gedeon said, watching Reid. “in about half an hour it’ll take full effect,”
“Got it,” Morgan said.
“Morgan,” Gideon said. “Look- you think you’ve seen the kid embarrassed? This tops it all. Don’t push his buttons about this, act like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He already hates being looked down on, if you push this-”
“I’m not the devil man, I got it,” Morgan said, looking slightly offended.
“I’m not saying you are. I’m saying he’s already fragile, but treating him like it will make him worse,” Gideon said. “We can’t act like this is weird, or like we feel bad for him,”
“Don’t you?” Morgan asked, looking at their coworker, slumped on the ground, blood still framing his body.
“Feeling gets in the way,” He said. “We’ve got to much to do,”
“He’s just a kid,” Morgan said.
“Morgan-”
“And he’s got a list of everyone he thinks he’s failed,” Morgan said. “Don’t you feel bad? This job, it’s like torture to him,”
“He’s a grown adult, not a child. And he can pick whatever job he likes. We are in no position to question his decisions, only to help him and keep quiet,” Gideon said, shaking his head. Morgan wanted to push more, because there was no way that was Gideon's genuine opinion. He could see it lying just under the surface, he just couldn’t get at it. But Reid was starting to stir and they had more important things to focus on.
“Pick up all those papers,” Morgan said, gesturing to what was scattered on the floor, ripped out of the notebook. “If we don’t want him to be embarrassed, best to ignore the paper trail,”
“Good call,” Gideon sai.d “you’re learning,”
“Learning what?” Morgan asked. Gideon didn’t answer, only picked them up and shoved them in a drawer.
“Let me see his arm,” Gideon said. Morgan rolled up his sleeve, showing off the injury.
There were a series of shallow slashes in his arm, from wrist to elbow, and one was much deeper than the others, the main source of the bleeding.
“He did this fast. It wasn’t planned,” Gideon said. “And the lack of scar tissue tells us he isn’t normally a self harmer,”
“Suicide?” Morgan asked.
“That’s what they would have put on a death certificate,” Gideon said. “But no, I doubt it. Although if he had wanted that he was close to the mark. No, I think he was probably trying to regain control, or maybe punish himself. Or maybe he didn’t have a choice,”
“The voices told him to?” Morgan asked. “A little dangerous for a man carrying a gun don’t you think?”
“Clearly he takes precautions with the gun,” Gideon said. “And besides, it’s not like he would have one voice telling him exactly what to do, he isn’t a puppet. With schizophrenia- especially paranoid, there are normally more than one voice, and one isn’t louder then the other,”
“On average 3-7 voices, predominantly male,” Reid muttered, catching both of their attention. “Usually with conflicting messages, disorienting the patience,”
“Go find a first aid kit. If there isn’t one in the house go look-”
“Under my bed, in the third box to the right, it’s the eights item in there, and there’s a list with the order taped to the lid,” Reid said, still avoiding eye contact.
“...there you go,” Gideon said. “Now scram,”
Morgan got the message, Gideon needed time alone with Reid, to assure him and calm him down without freaking him out too much. Morgan's job was to pretend nothing happened, but that wouldn’t work with Gideon. So instead of immediately retrieving the first aid kit, he took the opportunity to learn a little more about his coworker. And to satisfy his curiosity by snooping in his room.
“Reid,” Gideon said. “You’re severely dehydrated, you need to intake some fluid or else I’m taking you to get a IV,”
Reid nodded, shakily accepting the water bottle.
“Are the voices gone?” Gideon asked. Reid smiled a little, and it looked awkward on his face. One long side of his mouth twitching up as nothing else changed.
“You know antipsychotics well enough to know that they mostly mask symptoms. I would need maintenance drugs to actually diminish them,” Reid said. “How did you find me?”
“You left early Friday, and said you didn’t feel well. Then you missed two days of work without calling in,” Gideon said. “I figured with your family history and your general profile, four and a half days no contact was cause for a check in,” m
“Mh,” Reid said. He still wasn’t making eye contact, and he wasn’t drinking the water either.
“It’s not poisoned,” Gideon said bluntly. “If I had wanted to poison you, I would have used a mug and faucet water. Easier to mask the taste when it is coated with the inner workings of the pipes, and it would be much harder to see a difference in the water. That’s why you have bottles, instead of using the fancy water purifier in your kitchen, right?”
He squinted his mouth up again, finally meeting Gideons eyes.
“You’re good at your job,” Reid said. “I uh- I had a notebook, do you know-”
“In your sock drawer, just to your left,” Gideon said. “Morgan thought he would spare you the embarrassment,”
“Two of my coworkers just walked into my house and found me curled up in the throes of psychosis, a notebook isn’t going to make or break me,” Reid said laughing without any humor.
“No, but I like to reward good behavior. Morgans trying,” Gideon said. “The notes on your whiteboard, is that how you manage it most of the time?”
“I have a smaller one in my wallet. You can’t argue with facts,” Reid said. “No matter what the symptoms present themselves as, if you have evidence to the contrary…”
“So why did you stop taking your medicine?” Gideon asked. “If you had evidence to the contrary,”
“Because they are as smart as I am. They adapt,” Reid said. “Gave me something I couldn’t dispute,”
“Which was?”
“The people I wrote down. They would be alive today if it wasn’t for me,” Reid said, shaking his head a little. “I just… I couldn’t find evidence to contradict that. Before they would say that my medicine was poison, that it would kill me. This time… it was that it was keeping me alive,”
“Really?” Gideon asked, with clinical fascination.
“Yeah. I figured if they were dead…”
“That you didn’t deserve to live?” Gideon asked. Reid nodded awkwardly, looking down. “Finish your water. You see the flaw in that thinking though, don’t you?”
“Not really,” Reid said.
“There are hundreds of people who we couldn’t have saved without your help. Specifically you, the way that you think, the things that you can recall, have saved so many more then you have lost. If you killed yourself you would effectively take out hundreds- probably thousands- of people who you wouldn’t be able to save,” Gideon said. Reid looked intently at him, absorbing his every word. “I would say that hundreds of lives are worth the 13 you’ve lost,”
“Yeah. I guess that would be a counter argument,” Reid said, his eyes darting around the room as he turned over Gideons assessment in his mind.
“Hey, found that first aid kit,” Morgan said, reappearing with it in hand. He didn’t have a normal one, or even something you might find at a rec center bolted to the wall. It was a large black case with enough to stock two hospital rooms, and then some. Intubation tubes, dozens of suture kits, fast acting clotting agents, medicine to restart a heart, he was fully prepared. And clearly he had used it before.
“That's hard to find huh?” Reid asked, leaning against the back of his closet so he could sit up. “What was the organized list to confusing for you?”
Reid knew his coworkers, he knew what they were doing. But he was going to let them have their plausible deniability. Afterall, he wasn’t really in a position to press.
“Well I never learned my alphabet,” Morgan quipped, and Reid rolled his eyes. “Gimme your arm,”
Doing as he was told, Reid reached his arm out, his whole body shaking as he did so, the exhaustion setting in in earnest this time. Gideon noted that, his eyebrows drawing together.
“Finish that bottle,” Gideon comanted, nodding to the water. “I’ll go get you another,” Reid didn’t do as he was told, instead just fiddling with the cap and staring at the ground. “Reid,”
“Right,” Reid said, bringing the bottle to his lips. Morgan bit his tongue, resisting the urge to comment as he started cleaning the wounds. The volume of blood loss was surprising, and must have played into the dehydration.
“When was the last time you drank something?” Gideon asked.
“I don’t even know what day it is,” Reid said.
“Tuesday evening,” Gideon said.
“I… remember having coffee Friday at night. I wanted to catch up on work because I had left early,” Reid said.
“That was the last time you remember drinking?” Morgan asked in surprise. “What about food?”
“Morgan,” Gideon said, moving a hand out to signal that he needs to back off. Reid didn’t pick up on it though, and answered the question anyway.
“I had an apple Saturday,” Reid said. Morgan bite his lip, darting his eyes at Gideon. “But I- well I don’t remember much, I could easily have eaten or drunk something else without realizing it,”
“If we are counting that as water, which is a stretch,” Gideon said. “You’ve gone almost three days without anything to drink, you’re severely dehydrated and lost a lot of blood already,”
“Drinking coffee is automatic for me, I probably had some at least on saturday or sunday, otherwise I wouldn’t have woken up so easily,” Reid said. “Then again, my medication causes polydipsia -the urge to constantly intake water or other fluids- but so can schizophrenia,”
“It seems like it was your medication,” Gideon said.
Morgan opened his mouth, ready to ask if that was why he was always drinking coffee at the office, even in the late afternoon, but Gideon shot him a look before he could mention it. Unfortunately Reid followed Gideons gaze and now Morgan was stuck.
“How do you keep your room so organized?” Morgan asked, trying to say something non-intimidating. “It’s like- OCD neat,”
“I don’t have OCD,” Reid said.
“Not just Asburgers,” Gideon said. “Can present similar, but the urge is for organization, not repetitive, and it isn’t a compulsion,”
“Actually- the term Asburgers is called into question repeatedly by medical professionals. It’s predicted in the next 10 years all usage of the word will be halted, the reasoning being that there is no distinct difference between aspergers and autism, only levels of severity. And as more is discovered about the illnesses, it is harder to deny that all autism doesn’t operate on a scale, so aspergers is really just autism with higher degrees of external function and a lower clinical representation,”
“Dude,” Morgan said, rolling his eyes. “Nerd alert,”
Gidion shot him an approving nod. The normalcy was good, it kept Reid relaxed, evidenced by his ‘interesting’ facts and statistics. Although sometimes he couldn’t help himself around strangers, he was more likely to talk when he felt comfortable.
“So it’s more clinically correct to say autistic,” Gideon said, nodding.
“Well yes, although I’m sure my medical chart still says aspergers, and it presents a more complete idea of the illness, it is useless to use that term because the level of debate going on now, it’ll be discontinued before you know it. And adjusting to a new term or diagnosis is odd,” Reid said.
“Hey how about you stop talking and finish your water,” Morgan said, wiping off the wound on Reids arm.
“Here’s a question; why were all the lights in your house turned off but this one?” Gideon asked.
“What am I being interrogated about?” Reid asked with that same awkward lip quirk.
“We’re already here, might as well give us a better understanding,” Gideon said. “Might help us with a case down the line, have a more diverse view on psychosis,”
That was a good answer. Analytical, detached, non threatening.
“Well, I figured that I wasn’t able to insure the safety or security of my entire apartment. To many rooms, to many ways in or out, this room had no windows and only one door, that I tried to barricade,” Reid said, looking at the small chest he had tried to force in front of it. “Clearly I didn't do a great job of that. With the rest of the house dark, I thought if someone came in I would hear them because they would have to rummage for a light, or turn on a flash light. Or maybe just stumble around in the dark,”
“Were you afraid of someone coming to get you?” Gideon asked.
“No, I was afraid that someone would come to check on me, and that I wouldn’t be aware enough to know who it was,” Reid said, looking away and picking at his jeans loose threats. “I think that I was worried about shooting someone again,”
“Where is your gun?” Gideon asked.
“In the case up there,” Reid said, gesturing to a locked box above him. “The passcode is the answer to a mathematical equation. I found it in an audiobook so I wouldn’t remember it and would have to solve it again to get back in. no problem when i’m normal…”
“But a little tricky when you are in psychosis,” Gideon said. Reid nodded. He was much more open with the ruse that he was helping them understand other people better. No way he would be this forthcoming if he knew the real reason: they were worried about him.
“Have you hurt yourself like this before?” Morgan asked. Reid closed his mouth tightly, staring at him without answering. Morgan had made a mistake, he had made the question personal. Reid could practically smell the worry in his voice.
“Look, I’m fine now. I appreciate the help, but I don’t need a babysitter. I couldn’t get the medication, now that I have it I'm fine,” Reid said. “I think you two better go,”
“I’d like to help you clean up a little,” Gideon said.
“If I don’t show up for work tomorrow then you would have probable cause for concern, as if I don’t see a reason for you to still be here,” He said.
“Because you haven’t even drunk half of that water,” Gideon said. “And until you do I am not convinced you will wake up tomorrow,”
Reid shot him a look, and downed a good ⅓ of the bottle, capping it.
“There’s your assurance,” Reid said, pulling his arm away from Morgan. “I can take it from here,”
“...alright,” Gideon said. “Morgan, are you ready to go?”
“Go?” Morgan asked. “What just-”
“Morgan,” Gideon said firmly. “He seems just fine. It’s best we go,”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Morgan said, looking at Reid, shakily leaning on the wall. “Really? ‘He seems fine’ What about the part when he almost died ten minutes ago Gif? What about the blood? Or the dehydration or-”
“Morgan,” Gideon said. “It is time to go,”
One tense moment and Morgan silently gave up, handing the suture package to Reid roughly and following after Gideon as he picked up his stuff and made his way over to the door.
“This is a joke isn’t it,” Morgan said once they were in the hallway.
“He’s an adult Morgan,” Gideon said. “He’s not a child, not a victim, not an unsub, if you want to help him you do it while treating him like an adult and respecting his privacy. We violated that privacy by going in there, because he needed help. Now he has it under control,”
“So what if we act like nothing happened?” Morgan asked. “I’m sorry Gideon but I can’t do that, I can't just walk away and leave him-”
“Watch him,” Gideon said. “From a distance. From work, from one from your car, watch his behavior. Give me three good reasons to intervene by the end of the week and then I will let you go do whatever the hell you want to. But you better think real carefully about what the consequences will be and what it will do to Reid because you won’t always be around to intervene whenever you see fit and if he can’t bring himself back from the brink on his own then he’s going to end up locked away somewhere just like his mother,”
Morgan didn’t have a response to that, he just sat there and stared.
“Go on, watch,” Gideon said.
---
Reid was quiet at work the next day. He kept his head down and only shared about two statistics, which -if he was sharing statistics- he could have told you was approximately a 72% decrease from the weeks prior. Everyone knew that something happened, but no one knew what other than Morgan, Gideon, and Reid. It didn’t help that Gideon shut down any personal talk for the entire week, constantly snapping at them to focus more on their cases and less on their coworkers. Reid was skittish, less confident on the field, and hesitated before sharing his ideas, usually prompted by someone to talk.
And the coffee had made a reference, he was never seen without a mug on his desk, and he stayed late hours at work, burying himself in files and papers that he could pour over. Morgan tried to stay as long as him, but it became too obvious when Reid pulled his second all-nighter that week that he was following him, and he had to lay off just slightly.
He still hadn’t found anything.
He broke in and searched his apartment a few times. Everything was in order, nothing left broken or scattered anymore, and each day two pills disappeared from his medication. Four more doses of the shot were administered and then nothing else. Everything was in place, it was like nothing ever happened. Reid had cut out the bloodied carpet in his closet and replaced it with tile-fit hardwood -probably the only kind that he could install himself- and the dressings for his wounds were diminishing in the first aid kit.
Morgan was just starting to feel at ease when he heard a door open while he was still inside. Reid should have been staying the night at the office, it sure seemed like he was anyway. Morgan was not prepared for this possibility. Quickly, he hid himself in the coat closet, a small closet barely large enough for him that was full of notebooks and 15th century literature, and held his breath.
Reid walked in, set his heavy bag down, and grabbed a marker off of the desk in the corner, walking over to his whiteboard.
He erased the facts on the board and wrote them over again, nodding once he was sure everything was there, and then recapped the marker. Morgan hadn’t noticed because his handwriting and wording was so consistent. Next, he picked up a notebook and started writing. Morgan held his breath, ready to see the repetition of the names again, but instead Reid sat down and wrote four pages, which he ripped out of the notebook, and then a fifth that he left in. After that, he grabbed an envelope and stamp, which he left on the bar next to the letter. After a moment's hesitation, he picked up a sticky note as well, scribbling something and leaving it there.
Grabbing a bottle of water, he retreated to his bedroom, shortly thereafter his light clicked off -save a faint glow that Morgan realized with an internal chuckle was a night light- and after an hour Morgan decided it was safe to escape.
His curiosity unsatisfied, he crept to the bar to read the notes. The first thing to catch his eye was what he had left in the notebook.
I will not kill myself today
Today I will not kill myself. Because there are people who would die without me on the team. Because my mother cannot pay for inpatient treatment alone. Because my plant would die without someone to water it. Because my funeral would be expensive and a waste of money no one would have the heart to stop. Because it would be a massive inconvenience. Because I can neither prove a decline or incline in quality of life. Because my neighbors have kids and appreciate the quiet, and someone loud might move in. because I have unpaid student loans. Because I have never seen another country. Because my mom wouldn’t remember, and someone would have to tell her over and over again. Because I have obligations.
Morgan quietly took a photo of it, wincing when his camera flashed. After that he worked his way over to the ripped pages, and immediately recognized them as a letter to his mother, which he didn’t bother to read. He was sure it was boring and uninteresting, he probably made up most of it to keep her from worrying, or only talked about work.
Lastly, a sticky note with his distinctive handwriting.
You should stick to profiling. You’d make a terrible spy. Next time try to make sure you aren't panting in the closet. And stay out of my bedroom, it’s creepy.
-Dr. Reid
Damnit.
So he was slightly less sneaky than he thought. Instead of retreating, hanging his head in shame, and pretending nothing happened, he instead did something that was admittedly a little stupid.
Okay a lot stupid.
He snuck into Reids bedroom.
He wasn’t asleep, not surprising given he knew Morgan was hiding in his closet, and he was instead sitting on the bed with a notebook in hand, the lock box in front of him. His head snapped up when Morgan entered, and he looked annoyed, but more anxious than angry.
“Sorry about… you know…”
“Hiding in my closet? Reid asked, tilting his head. He was wearing his glasses, and in pajamas.
“Yeah. that,” Morgan said. “...to be fair Gideon told me to,”
“He said to hide in my closet?”
“...in so many words,” Morgan said.
“Ah. interesting,” Reid said.
“Uh… what are you working on?” Morgan asked.
“You just broke into my house. In fact you’ve been breaking into my house all week, and you want to know what I’m working on?” Reid asked.
“...yes?” Morgan said. “I’m interested,”
“We’re going in the field tomorrow, I need my gun,” Reid said with a simple shrug. “And I’ll need to find a new equation,”
“Oh,” Morgan said.
“You don’t think I’m fit for my job,” Reid stated. “Either that I am going to turn into one of the guys we catch… or that I am too fragile. That it’s breaking my already fragile psyche,”
“Look Reid-”
“You’re not alone. Why do you think there is no hospital record on my file? Or why is my medication homemade?” Reid said. “But I'm not one of those guys we catch. You said it best yourself,” he said, chuckling a little. “I’m a nerd. I can’t shoot to save my life- literally - and I don’t fit the profile for any kind of killer, you know that,”
“I do,” Morgan said.
“So why are you stalking me?” Reid asked.
“I was worried about you. And Gideon thought if I brought it up it would make you…”
“Feel like a kid?” Reid asked. “Yeah, he really doesn’t like it when people do that,”
“...can you ask me a question?” Morgan asked.
“Be my guest,” Reid said.
“This list, it’s people you failed to save, or people you’ve killed,” Morgan said. “...why is your mom on it? You got her the help she needs, you didn’t fail her, you didn’t kill her… so why?”
“I did fail her,” Reid said, scratching the back of his neck. “I failed at giving her the one thing she needed I- she needed to be home, she needed a home. And she needed me to be there for her, instead…,”
“That’s not your job, far from it,” Morgan said. “If anything the two of you flipped roles,”
“It’s what she needed. Isn’t her fault, she couldn’t help the illness,” Reid said. “It was selfish, as soon as I was 18 I had them take her. It’s just… the FBI offered me a position, provided I go through their training, I knew I couldn’t take care of her at the same time. I chose my life over hers,”
“Reid you must know-”
“I think you should go,” Reid said abruptly, looking back at his notebook. “I don’t really feel like talking about this much more,”
“Reid-”
“Morgan, what’s happening right now is… well I mean- I am asking you to leave,” Reid said, still not making eye contact.
“You don’t need that gun until morning, why take it out now?” Morgan asked, grasping at straws. He needed to justify the visit,”
“In case I need to use it,” Reid said.
“Reid-”
“Morgan got out of my house,” Reid said bluntly, looking at him as he unlocked the box. “Please just… just leave me alone?”
“What are you going to do with that?” Morgan asked, nodding at the gun.
“Take it to work,” Reid said. “Get out. Please, just get out,”
“No, not until I know you are okay,”
“I’m okay, I’m more than okay. I feel great. Can you just please- would you just go? I want to be alone,” Reid said, looking agitated.
“No-”
The words were barely out of his mouth before Reid jumped out of bed and pushed past him, soldering his way out of the room and into the hallway, and slamming the door behind him. By the time Morgan made it out to the living room, Reid was gone, the front door hanging open.
“ Damnit -”
---
“Morgan, do you know what time it is?” Hotch asked, opening his door with a scowl. “I have a sleeping kid upstairs and tired wife, you are the last face I want to see right now,”
“I lost Reid,”
“What were you watching?” Hotch asked.
“Yeah. from his closet,” He replied.
“...I’m sorry, you were what,”
“I was worried about him okay? The guy was like- okay look he had a psychotic episode or something, and me and Gideon went to help him, and then Gideon just left and thought I should to,”
“That still doesn’t explain why you were in his closet,” Hotch said.
“I’ve been watching him, going through his stuff, he came home early and I had to hide,” Morgan said. “But he came back early and-”
“Did you say anything to him?” Hotch asked, rubbing his forehead.
“I- he was getting a gun I was worried,” Morgan said.
“Was he on the verge of suicide?” Hotch asked, his face concerned.
“No- well… I don’t know. He did cut himself earlier but I don’t think-”
“Then why the hell would it be a problem for him to have a gun?” Hotch asked.
“Look the point is he got upset and ran out, and now he is just out there with a gun and still coming down from psychosis, and he was already freaked when he left-”
“Reid isn’t going to hurt anybody,” Hotch said, before pausing.
“Are you sure about that?” Morgan asked.
“Damn you Morgan,” Hotch muttered. “Wait here, I’ll be out in 10,”
True to his word, ten minutes later Hotch came back, dressed and annoyed. Morgan silently followed him into his car, and waited for Hotch to take the lead.
“Where do you think he is?” the older man asked.
“No idea, he just ran out,” Morgan said. “Probably wondering the streets somewhere,”
“Okay look, we found him, we keep this quiet, Gideon will kill you when you tell him which you will be doing monday if there is anything to tell. Most likely Reid is either off blowing some steam or he is confused, but if we have any reason to think otherwise you talk first don’t bring out your gun. He can't shoot on a good day, assuming he isn’t dangerous,” Hotch said through gritted teeth as he pulled out.
“Look I really am-”
“Save it,”
---
“Whoa whoa whoa, slow down. Is that him?” Morgan asked. Two hours of driving had gotten them nowhere, aside from further away from friendship with each other.
“Either him or a mop in a sweater,” Hotch said, pulling the car onto the bridge where he was seated.
“Reid? That you?”
Reid whipped his head around, staring at them.
“What the hell man? I just- you woke Hotch up?” Reid asked, scowling.
“I was worried about you. You just ran off and… you know…” Morgan said.
“What? And I have a gun? Or am I crazy? Which are you more worried about?” Reid asked.
“Look you know that I don’t think-”
“This is insane,” Reid said. “You’re acting insane- and I would know- I- you broke into my house. Multiple times,”
“Multiple times? Really?” Hotch asked.
“I was worried- look, Reid, I’m sorry if I upset you or something, would you just-”
“I’ll see you at work,” Reid said, turning on his heel and storming off. Morgan looked to Hotch, desperately trying to figure out their next move.
“What do I do?” Morgan said.
“What do you think would help?” Hotch asked. He had fully transitioned from grumpy dad to ‘teacher mode’.
“I should go make sure he is okay,” Morgan said.
“Has that worked out for you up to this point?” He asked.
“Well… no but…”
“Look, when I was a kid, I found this sick little baby bird, and I tried to nurse it back to health,” Hotch said, leaning against his car. “It could barely open its eyes when I found it lying on the ground, and within a few days it was almost as healthy as anything in a nest. I took care of that thing like it was a baby,”
“What's your point?” Morgan asked.
“Well eventually it got better, and that was when I got upset. Not when I thought it might die, when I realized it had to go back out there and that there was nothing I could do to stop it from getting hurt again,” Hotch said.
“So Reid is a small defenseless bird in this scenario?” Morgan asked.
“And you’re a 11 year old, it’s not a perfect fit,” Hotch said. “Point is, you have to let them break their wings sometimes. If you try to smother them then… well you’ll do just that,”
“What if the bird wanted to leave but couldn’t take care of itself?” Morgan asked.
“Then be there when it needs you, and back off when it doesn’t,” Hotch said. “And this is a very independent baby bird we are talking about here. He doesn’t need people as much as you would think,”
“He’s just a kid,” Morgan said, leaning against the car. “He’s 1o years younger than me- more that for you- don’t you worry?”
“I just watched a young 20-something kid storm down a street alone at night with nothing but his gun, more than lacking social skills, and oversized pajamas,” Hotch said. “Of course I’m worried. But we can’t help until something goes wrong,”
“Well lets just hope that nothing does,”