Evolution, a Spencer Reid/Criminal Minds Fanfic

Chapter 17. Strategy at 30,000

“GARCIA!!!”

Hotch wiped his mouth and gave Reid a weary nod of gratitude for his timely presentation of the airsick bag.

“GARCIA!! Get over here…NOW!”

The tech analyst struggled to extricate herself from the nest she’d constructed out of her coat-of-many-colors, some pillows, and a couple of blankets. The rest of the team roused as well, peeking over covers and rubbing eyes scratchy from lack of sleep. It flashed across Morgan’s mind that the only time he’d seen his boss angrier was when he’d completely lost control and pummeled Foyet to a bloody pulp. Without being summoned, J.J., Prentiss and Morgan gathered around.

Hotch glared. A disheveled Garcia was timidly holding one of the sad, standard-issue blankets in front of her like a shield.

“S-sir?” Maybe it was the air circulating through the cabin, but the woman’s very hair seemed to be trembling.

When Hotch spoke, it was with a deadly calm. “Garcia. What did you leave in IT that would cause Strauss to credit Reid with ‘superpowers’?”

“What? I…I…Nothing!...I erased everything about him! I promise! I swear!” Frightened eyes darted indiscriminately around the group in desperate search for a champion. None was forthcoming. Hotch pinned her with his stare.

It was J.J. who broke through what threatened to become a standoff. With a gasp of realization, she stepped closer to the shivering techie. “Oh, Penelope. Please tell me you didn’t keep any of those…those avatars? The ones I told you to delete? You didn’t, did you?”

Garcia’s voice was very small. “Not on the network. I did delete them! There’s no way anyone could have accessed them through the internet. No way! Impossible!”

“Gar-ci-a? What did you do?!”

The disappointment in J.J.’s question did more to unhinge the tech analyst than anger ever could. Her heart sank until it felt as though it had vacated her body entirely and was drifting somewhere outside the jet.

“I did delete them. I erased their history…everything. But…” She could feel the tension around her increase. “…I saved a copy where no one would be able to hack it.”

“Where would that be?” Hotch’s eyes dissected her. She couldn’t look away.

“O-on a f-flash drive…Sir.” It was a soft, shameful admission of guilt that elicited groans, sighs, and a number of eyes closed in suffering disbelief. Garcia hastened to explain. Maybe, if they knew how blameless her intentions were, they wouldn’t look at her with such uncomprehending sadness.

“I didn’t leave anything behind that anyone could hack. And I just thought Reid might want to see them someday and…and…and, Sir, they were on my personal flash drive, hidden way back in my personal things.” Garcia’s eye widened with realization. “Sir, that means someone went through my personal belongings! My private, don’t-touch-‘cause-they’re-mine, personal stuff! Sir! That’s not right!! That’s…that’s…trespassing!!”

Hotch finally freed her from his predatory stare. A lowered head and slumped shoulders were clues to how drained he was feeling. In a voice one would use to instruct a particularly dense child, he addressed Garcia’s outrage.

“Nothing in the Bureau is ‘private,’ Garcia. Once you’re cleared to enter that building, you, and everything you bring within its walls, are company property.” He looked up at her. All she could see was tragedy in his eyes…and disappointment verging on betrayal. It hurt to know she was the cause. A large tear worked its way through her smudged eyeliner, a trail of darkness marking its progress down her cheek.

“I only wanted to surprise Reid with something…nice…from all this. All he’s gone through…he deserves something nice.”

Morgan shrugged and rubbed his stubbled jaw. “Got the ‘surprise’ part right anyway.” He sighed and draped an arm around the weeping techie. “C’mon, Baby Girl, it’s not the end of the world, is it?”

Rossi shook his head. “Might be the end of life as he knows it for Reid. Might be the end of Hotch’s career. And that means the end of this team as we know it.”

Stark reality brought on a fresh wave of tears.

“Excuse me.” Hotch rose and made his way down the aisle to the bathroom. He hadn’t wanted to make Garcia cry, but he wasn’t going to comfort her. What Rossi had said was true; an all too accurate summation of her innocent…stupid, flitted through Hotch’s thoughts…actions.

xxxxxxx

Hotch splashed cold water on his face and rinsed the sour taste from his mouth. He glanced in the mirror and decided he didn’t look up to battling Strauss. He didn’t look up to battling a blade of grass. And the stakes were so high. But fight was exactly what he would have to do. He had approximately two-and-a-half hours to come up with a strategy.

He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes for a moment. He was used to inventorying his body for injuries in the aftermath of a rough case, but this time he was taking stock of his mind. It was scary, new territory. If he tried, he could still feel something…slippery…dark and rotted…curling through the depths of him. He hoped it would fade the way Reid said images did for him. Until then, he would just have to ignore it. And stop checking to see how it was doing.

Garcia. He turned his thoughts to more immediate problems. He wondered why she thought hiding something, burying it deep within her personal effects, would ensure its security. Much better to hide in plain sight. Less damning if it’s found. Hotch raised his head. He could almost feel the light bulb hovering over him. What if…?

The Unit Chief watched a slow smile spread across the haggard face in the mirror.

xxxxxxx

It was a dejected bunch of agents huddling together in mutual misery that awaited Hotch’s return. When the bathroom door opened and they heard their leader emerge with more energy than he’d entered, a tiny bit of the dark cloud hovering over them shredded and blew away.

“Garcia, did it take you very long to create those Reid-avatars?”

The tech analyst looked unsure, wondering if the answer would place her in an even worse position. “Uh, no, Sir. I did them while I was on break, kind of. I didn’t use much regular company time…Sir…I wouldn’t waste…”

Hotch cut her off. “Could you do more…a lot more…by the time we land?”

“I…I guess…I don’t understand, Sir.”

“I want you to make avatars of everyone on the team, including yourself. And whatever notes you put on Reid’s, I want similar things written on these. We’ve got a little over two hours. Can you do it?”

Morgan’s chuckle began low and grew to a belly laugh. Prentiss joined in. J.J., Rossi and Reid grinned in varying widths. And Garcia? Her eyes sparkled so brightly with eager hope for redemption that, in comparison, the sooty eyeliner-tear-tracks branding her cheeks were hardly noticeable.

Hotch watched her set up her laptop. “Do you have more of those flash drives, Garcia?”

“Always, Sir.” She rummaged in the bottom of a huge tote studded with hearts and stars. When she withdrew her hand, it cupped a veritable zoo of whimsical, glittering creatures.

“Start filling them up.” Hotch’s next order was for the group in general. “Help her. If she runs out of ideas, help her.”

Hotch hoped his plan would work, but it needed one more ingredient to make it sizzle.

“Rossi? A word?”

The two older agents stepped away for a quiet, quick conferral, but both looked much more cheerful.

What had been a dejected, gloomy group was now a team, buzzing with creativity. Rossi reflected that it took an exceptional leader to enact such a transformation. He just wondered what else was up Hotch’s sleeve.