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thefroggTitle: Fractured Reflections (1/1)
Author: Frogg
Beta: Jadesfire
Rating: Gen, with a tiny bit of slash if you squint and tilt the screen the right way.
Comments/Warnings/Disclaimers: The only character I own isn't named in this story. Everyone else belongs to someone else. Damnit.
Spoilers: Through Revelations, particularly Natural Born Killer, the Big Game, Revelations, and Profiler, Profiled
Sequel to: Personal Hell
Notes: Not Emily-friendly
Author: Frogg
Beta: Jadesfire
Rating: Gen, with a tiny bit of slash if you squint and tilt the screen the right way.
Comments/Warnings/Disclaimers: The only character I own isn't named in this story. Everyone else belongs to someone else. Damnit.
Spoilers: Through Revelations, particularly Natural Born Killer, the Big Game, Revelations, and Profiler, Profiled
Sequel to: Personal Hell
Notes: Not Emily-friendly
Reid was getting help; not from the team, but as much as that stung, it wasn’t important. Or maybe it was only important that it wasn’t the team Reid was turning to, wasn’t someone who’d had to watch him bleed and beg…
Once outside the break room, door a solid barrier between himself and Reid, weight settled back on Morgan’s shoulders like a shroud, a miasma of pain and foreboding that seeped through cracks he’d blown in his own emotional armor.
Where Reid was concerned, Morgan had done what he could. No matter how much it hurt that he couldn’t do more, couldn’t protect the man he’d long since adopted as his little brother, he’d done what he could. What Reid had allowed him.
He’d have to be content with that.
Morgan looked back towards the pit before turning away. There was no possible way he'd be able to battle his own demons and fend off the rest of the team; Hotch and Gideon would know to back off, but JJ and Emily would be all over him wanting to know how Reid was. Garcia didn't bear thinking about.
It was so much easier to fight his own pain when someone needed him.
Ignoring the few odd, half-confused looks other agents threw him at his appearance, he made his way to his locker and stripped off his shirt, feeling the tearstain in the shoulder that would soon dry salt-stiff, the stretched-out deformities in the back.
Damaged.
Tee shirts could be thrown away, replaced.
"Stupid," Morgan muttered to himself, shoving the ruined shirt to the back of his locker and pulling out a spare. "Blind and stupid."
Reid wasn’t the only one who’d been damaged.
Now if he could only get through a thirty-second phonecall.
~~~
Hotch stopped mid-sentence, glancing at Gideon in apology as he pulled out his cellphone. "Hotch."
"It's Morgan. Listen, I told Reid to take the rest of the day off," Morgan started.
"Gideon and I had assumed he would." Hotch nodded to Gideon.
"Figures." Fond exasperation laced the disembodied voice. "I want him to take more than that, a day or two, but I didn't want to press the issue. If you could let him know he has the option--"
"He hasn't come back for his bag yet. I'll let him know." Hotch paused, lips thinned for a moment. "Is Reid..?"
"He says he's got someone he needs to talk to, and that's all I care about."
"And yourself?"
A bitter laugh, but nothing more. Hotch frowned, unable to let it go, but Morgan continued. "Soon as Reid's gone, give everyone a few minutes to regroup, then get to the briefing room. We need to have a team meeting."
"Without Reid." Hotch could feel Gideon's gaze on him, the concern and frustration.
"Yeah, without Reid."
"And you aren't going to give me any specifics."
"Nope."
Hotch rubbed his eyes with his free hand and sighed. "Consider it done then. Morgan?"
"Yeah?" Morgan sounded tired. Tired and defeated.
"Is there anything I can do?"
"Pray we don't have a case for a few days."
The line went dead; Hotch stared at it blindly for a few moments before flipping it shut.
"Well?"
But movement out the window had caught Hotch's attention. "Hold on," and he was striding down the walkway, taking the stairs as if it were any other day, for any other reason.
Reid stopped in his tracks and glanced up at Hotch nervously. "I...I--"
Hotch cut him off with a shake of his head. "Take the rest of the day. If you need more time, please take it. Paperwork can wait for a few days, and I'll call you if there's a case. All right?" He ached to reach out and touch, give tactile support, but...too soon. Too much. And not with Gideon watching just outside his office door.
Swallowing hard, Reid nodded, long hair falling into his face. "I...I need to make a phonecall," he explained lamely, and skittered around to his desk.
Hotch watched for a long moment before returning to Gideon's office.
The door closed behind them, the slam of a prison cell; they watched in silence as Reid made a too-brief call, then shouldered his bag and trotted back out, obviously relieved that JJ and Emily had found refuge elsewhere for the time being.
"Whoever he's seeing is either FBI here in Quantico--" Hotch started.
"--expecting him to call, or willing and able to drop everything for him," Gideon finished.
"Or all of the above."
Gideon nodded. "Or all of the above."
Companionable silence then, broken only by the rasp of cloth-on-cloth as Gideon made his way back to his chair.
"Morgan's called a team meeting, now that Reid's gone," Hotch said.
"An intervention?"
"I don't think so."
"Something he said spooked you. What was it?"
"Pray we don't have a case for a few days," Hotch replied after a long moment, trying to convey the weariness he'd heard in his friend's voice.
"You did just give Reid time off--"
"It wasn't like that. Wasn't just for Reid. It was personal, for him, and for me..." Hotch trailed off.
"Group therapy, then."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
Gideon smiled wryly. "Why? We've been trying to get Reid to deal with what happened since...well, since it happened. What right do we have to refuse to deal with it ourselves?"
"Because..." Hotch searched for words. "What happened in that cabin, what Reid went through, isn't the only...situation we've been refusing to deal with."
"Emily."
Hotch nodded. "Emily."
Once outside the break room, door a solid barrier between himself and Reid, weight settled back on Morgan’s shoulders like a shroud, a miasma of pain and foreboding that seeped through cracks he’d blown in his own emotional armor.
Where Reid was concerned, Morgan had done what he could. No matter how much it hurt that he couldn’t do more, couldn’t protect the man he’d long since adopted as his little brother, he’d done what he could. What Reid had allowed him.
He’d have to be content with that.
Morgan looked back towards the pit before turning away. There was no possible way he'd be able to battle his own demons and fend off the rest of the team; Hotch and Gideon would know to back off, but JJ and Emily would be all over him wanting to know how Reid was. Garcia didn't bear thinking about.
It was so much easier to fight his own pain when someone needed him.
Ignoring the few odd, half-confused looks other agents threw him at his appearance, he made his way to his locker and stripped off his shirt, feeling the tearstain in the shoulder that would soon dry salt-stiff, the stretched-out deformities in the back.
Damaged.
Tee shirts could be thrown away, replaced.
"Stupid," Morgan muttered to himself, shoving the ruined shirt to the back of his locker and pulling out a spare. "Blind and stupid."
Reid wasn’t the only one who’d been damaged.
Now if he could only get through a thirty-second phonecall.
~~~
Hotch stopped mid-sentence, glancing at Gideon in apology as he pulled out his cellphone. "Hotch."
"It's Morgan. Listen, I told Reid to take the rest of the day off," Morgan started.
"Gideon and I had assumed he would." Hotch nodded to Gideon.
"Figures." Fond exasperation laced the disembodied voice. "I want him to take more than that, a day or two, but I didn't want to press the issue. If you could let him know he has the option--"
"He hasn't come back for his bag yet. I'll let him know." Hotch paused, lips thinned for a moment. "Is Reid..?"
"He says he's got someone he needs to talk to, and that's all I care about."
"And yourself?"
A bitter laugh, but nothing more. Hotch frowned, unable to let it go, but Morgan continued. "Soon as Reid's gone, give everyone a few minutes to regroup, then get to the briefing room. We need to have a team meeting."
"Without Reid." Hotch could feel Gideon's gaze on him, the concern and frustration.
"Yeah, without Reid."
"And you aren't going to give me any specifics."
"Nope."
Hotch rubbed his eyes with his free hand and sighed. "Consider it done then. Morgan?"
"Yeah?" Morgan sounded tired. Tired and defeated.
"Is there anything I can do?"
"Pray we don't have a case for a few days."
The line went dead; Hotch stared at it blindly for a few moments before flipping it shut.
"Well?"
But movement out the window had caught Hotch's attention. "Hold on," and he was striding down the walkway, taking the stairs as if it were any other day, for any other reason.
Reid stopped in his tracks and glanced up at Hotch nervously. "I...I--"
Hotch cut him off with a shake of his head. "Take the rest of the day. If you need more time, please take it. Paperwork can wait for a few days, and I'll call you if there's a case. All right?" He ached to reach out and touch, give tactile support, but...too soon. Too much. And not with Gideon watching just outside his office door.
Swallowing hard, Reid nodded, long hair falling into his face. "I...I need to make a phonecall," he explained lamely, and skittered around to his desk.
Hotch watched for a long moment before returning to Gideon's office.
The door closed behind them, the slam of a prison cell; they watched in silence as Reid made a too-brief call, then shouldered his bag and trotted back out, obviously relieved that JJ and Emily had found refuge elsewhere for the time being.
"Whoever he's seeing is either FBI here in Quantico--" Hotch started.
"--expecting him to call, or willing and able to drop everything for him," Gideon finished.
"Or all of the above."
Gideon nodded. "Or all of the above."
Companionable silence then, broken only by the rasp of cloth-on-cloth as Gideon made his way back to his chair.
"Morgan's called a team meeting, now that Reid's gone," Hotch said.
"An intervention?"
"I don't think so."
"Something he said spooked you. What was it?"
"Pray we don't have a case for a few days," Hotch replied after a long moment, trying to convey the weariness he'd heard in his friend's voice.
"You did just give Reid time off--"
"It wasn't like that. Wasn't just for Reid. It was personal, for him, and for me..." Hotch trailed off.
"Group therapy, then."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
Gideon smiled wryly. "Why? We've been trying to get Reid to deal with what happened since...well, since it happened. What right do we have to refuse to deal with it ourselves?"
"Because..." Hotch searched for words. "What happened in that cabin, what Reid went through, isn't the only...situation we've been refusing to deal with."
"Emily."
Hotch nodded. "Emily."
