The Intelligence Control and Analysis Program

Chapter 7

That was when Hotch had finally cut Genius off, explaining that he had been sold on the idea since JJ pressed the issue. Genius was immediately satisfied, and Hotch invited him along. If McGee's superiors tried to deny the presence of a problem, Genius clearly had an arsenal with which he could statistically strongarm them into cooperation.

Besides, Hotch didn't want to be too far away from Genius.

Things had improved in the days since Genius started seeing Dr. Meadowlark, but he was still largely unstable, and Hotch felt he had been away too long. Not that he didn't trust JJ and Morgan, he simply... didn't like that they had been spending more time with Genius than him.

Not in a jealous way, of course. It wasn't like Hotch was the first person to take an interest in Genius or the entire reason Genius was in their custody in the first place. It wasn't like Hotch was the first one Genius opened up to, and it definitely wasn't like Hotch felt a personal responsibility to Genius as his charge.

Besides, even if things were like that, Hotch was too mature and logical to dwell on it.

"Agent Hotchner, are we there yet?"

Hotch glanced up from his schedule—his color-coded, soccer dad schedule—and looked across the aisle to Genius' side of the jet. "It shouldn't be too long."

Genius nodded and pressed his face against the glass, letting out a heavy sigh.

Hotch lifted a brow slightly. "That was a heavy sigh."

"Yeah. Just tired."

Hotch looked at Genius, but he didn't offer medication. He had decided to never offer Ritalin so he could get a more accurate idea of how often Genius wanted it. So far, Hotch hadn't gotten the idea Genius was severely addicted in any way, which made him feel much better about agreeing every time Genius asked.

Because Hotch had agreed every time Genius asked since his appointment with Dr. Meadowlark.

"Agent Hotchner...?"

Hotch glanced at him, ready for the question. "Yes?"

"Can I..." Genius fidgeted in his seat. "Do you... do you really believe I can do this? That I can... get better?"

Hotch hadn't been expecting that, but he immediately put his attention on Genius, expressing nothing but warmth and safety. "I don't believe that, Genius. I know it. I know it like you know the first one thousand digits of pi."

"2,934, actually."

"Exactly." Hotch smiled at him. "I know it double and then some. It's not a matter of if; it's a matter of when."

Genius looked away, gluing his eyes to the window and shifting in his seat. "Okay. I'll try... I'll try to stay awake. I think maybe I can."

Hotch rested an arm on the table and continued to look at Genius despite the lack of reciprocation. "Genius, be honest. Do you need Ritalin?"

Genius shrugged. "I don't know. I want to try without, but... I'm scared."

"Would you like to try coffee? Or some kind of energy drink?" Hotch caught the way Genius shrank in on himself. "Is that what you're afraid of, Genius?"

Genius bit down on his lip. "If I use a drink and it isn't enough, I won't be able to take Ritalin, either. I'll be stuck. I don't wanna be stuck, Agent Hotchner." His voice had dissolved into a whine by the end.

Hotch took a couple moments to think things through, and then he wet his lips and tried to find a gentle way to say, 'that's life, buddy.'

"Genius... there are going to be bad days." Hotch shook his head slightly. "We can't avoid that no matter what we do. I think you should try to drink something. I think having one bad day is worth it if it can help us figure out how to fight the fatigue without sending you into a panic. But I'm not you. I don't know how it feels to be where you are."