Unknown- A Criminal Minds Fanfic

Chapter 33- Death Warmed Over

He stared at me like I had just started speaking German or some other Slavic language he hadn't mastered with his genius IQ yet.

"No, today's Saturday," he informed me, emphasizing each word a little more than necessary.

"What?" I asked.  I had only gone to bed a few hours ago, it was only a little after eleven...though it did feel like I'd been sleeping for longer than that.

He showed me his phone. Under the time, 11: 07 pm, the date read October 22.

"Oh," I said dully, rubbing my eyes again.  I needed to go back to bed.

"What are you doing here, anyways?" I asked, the words falling out of my mouth the minute they popped into my head.

"Sorry it's so late, but we just got back.  You weren't answering your phone so I came to check on you.  How come the door was unlocked?" he questioned.

"That's probably cause it's broken," I answered in reference to the phone before adding, "And Mrs. Mulcahy suggested I should keep it unlocked in case I needed something."

He furrowed his eyebrows and asked, "Who's Mrs. Mulcahy?"

I forgot I hadn't told him about her yet, but it's not like I told any of the team much about me regardless.

"My, uh, eighty-year-old neighbor.  She loves cats and soap operas," I gave a very general description. 

The headache pulsing behind my weary eyes must be why I was having a hard time forming coherent sentences, or at least coherent sentences that didn't sound like they were coming out of an eight-year-old's mouth.

"Oh.  You still shouldn't leave your door unlocked, especially considering those phone calls you got.  Did you get another one, is that why your phone is broken?" he questioned, a tad suspiciously.  He certainly put pieces together quickly, though.

The one small lamp I had left on in the corner of the room kept blurring, like when you take a picture but there's too much glare.  It was distracting, making it hard to concentrate on the words coming out of my mouth.

Which is probably why I flat out told him, "I threw it against the wall."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise and remarked, "I know you have a temper, but why?"

I was too tired to explain the whole thing to him, and I didn't want to rip open the issue I had refused to talk any further about on Tuesday night, so instead I just  shrugged, not even commenting on his profiling me as having anger issues.

He sighed and then repeated, "Are you sure you're okay? You should go see a doctor or something." 

I must have looked really sick if he was suggesting I see a doctor, but I brushed it off by teasing, "You're a doctor, I can see you."

A small smile flitted across his face but he protested softly, "You know what I mean.  An actual doctor, you've been miserable for the past three days."

"How do you know?  Maybe I enjoy being sick, and I slept through one of the days, so it couldn't have been that bad, right?" I objected sarcastically.

My head was still pounding and I could feel the itch in my throat that meant the cough medicine was wearing off, but I was attempting to ignore it.

He shook his head and I could have sworn he was trying to hide a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.  I couldn't tell when he started talking again, though. 

"If you say so, Charlie.  Anyways, I should probably get going.  It's late, and despite what you say, you need to get some sleep or you'll never get better," he said, getting up from the couch.

I opened my mouth to deny it with another sarcastic comment, but he stopped me by pointing out, "It's a scientific fact that rest when you're sick helps you get better more quickly," and then adding, "Get some sleep.  I'll see you on Monday," on his way out the door.

He closed it behind him, and I got up and locked it before turning off the lamp I had inadvertently left on last night and heading to the bathroom.  I flicked the light on so I could see in the mirror, but even while squinting from the bright fluorescents, I could tell why he had been so concerned for my well-being.

I looked like the zombie bride in every cheesy Frankenstein movie ever made. My hair was a tangled mane surrounding my pale face, and there was no sheen to my skin, like someone had rubbed chalk dust all over it.  Dark half-moons had set under my glassy eyes, and the only thing missing was hollowed out cheeks.

I certainly felt like death warmed over, too, so I took two more aspirin and another large swig of cough syrup straight from the bottle before returning to my room.

The minute I opened the door to my bedroom, Chocolate rushed out and then went and checked the whole apartment, sniffing every surface any part of Reid's body had come in contact with before, satisfied with his findings, he came back by my side.  I closed my door again and then climbed in bed, and Chocolate bounded up onto the mattress next to me before settling back down. 

It wasn't until I was curled back up under the blankets, waiting for the medicine to kick in so I could fall asleep, that I realized I had just had a whole conversation with Reid in my underwear.  Sure, I had been wearing a T-shirt, but it wasn't long enough to cover anything below my hips.  I groaned in dismay but tried to forget about it, I wouldn't have to see him until Monday morning at work.  That is, if I didn't sleep through a whole day again.