The Intelligence Control and Analysis Program

Chapter 7

Genius chewed on his lips some more. "It would be nice... not to have to choose between feeling nothing and feeling everything." He started to scratch at his arms, catching the edge of the scabs that had formed. "If I... if I try the drink, and it doesn't work... what happens?"

"Don't pick your arms, buddy. Scratch your legs, okay?" Hotch waited until the order had been followed to respond to Genius' question. "I don't know what you mean."

Genius started to bounce his leg, which made it difficult to scratch, but he somehow managed both. "What... what should I do? If it doesn't work?"

"Genius, look at me." Hotch spoke softly, immediately understanding.

Genius slowly turned his head, uncertainty clear in his eyes.

"If an energy drink doesn't work, what you do is come right to me, and we will find a way to work through it together."

"But what if you're busy? What if—"

"You come to me anyway. You always, always come to me. If you can't find me for some reason, you go to another member of our team." Hotch leaned over a little, seeking further eye contact. "Okay? We are here for you. We will help you through this."

Genius stared back for a moment, and then he smiled with a nearly whispered, "Okay."

Hotch smiled in return. "Good."

Hotch leaned back and almost moved on to his next project, but he changed his mind and looked at Genius instead. "Do you want to try an energy drink when we land, or do you want Ritalin?"

Genius considered it for half a second. "I'll... I'll try a drink."

Hotch smiled. "I thought so, but I didn't want to assume. It would have been okay if you disagreed with me even after I explained."

Genius curled in on himself a little bit, a sheepish smile pulling at his lips. "Thanks, Agent Hotchner. I... just thanks."

"You're welcome, Genius."

Hotch waited until Genius looked out the window again, and then he got back to his list of to-dos. He pulled a stack of case summaries out of his bag and stared at them blankly. I was going somewhere with this... He was exhausted. But I had an idea. I had a thought.

He scanned the page, eyes flickering from word to word until the abandoned train of thought was recovered. Rossi. I was calling Rossi. I was calling Rossi because I saw something earlier.

Why did he have his planner out then?

Lord have mercy, he was losing his mind.

Hotch sighed and pulled his phone from his pocket, flipping it open. He dialed quickly and waited for a few rings, and then Rossi answered.

"Yeah?" His voice came through a bit crackly.

"Hey, I need you to look into something for me." Hotch shuffled through the papers until he found the notes he had made sometime after takeoff. "I want you to look into Genius #1269163-4385. He worked on cases consistently for about a year, and then disappeared roughly four months ago. I can't find him anywhere."

"I'll start digging around." Rossi paused. "Refresh my memory... what are the numbers we have so far?"

"Well, Genius is... 2036334-4383..." Hotch turned toward Genius and leaned over, tapping him on the knee. "Hey, can you tell me the numbers for your old cellmates?"

Genius tilted his head, confused, but complied nonetheless. "No. 0366651-4381 and No. 6319314-4436."

Hotch nodded his thanks and repeated the numbers into the phone.