Evolution, a Spencer Reid/Criminal Minds Fanfic

Chapter 32. Misplaced Trust

She had been planning on pretending that there would be others joining them for the retreat. She had even considered some fake last-minute cancellation phone calls to support her tale. She abandoned the idea. Less is more, she told herself. Less cover-up for small issues; more cover-up for important ones. Less for my subjects to detect; more for them to trustingly accept.

It was this strategy, the sudden abandonment of much of her dissembling, that encouraged Reid to put even more effort into giving their hostess the benefit of the doubt.

xxxxxxx

After greeting Ana and giving both her intended subjects their own perfectly-pressured handshakes, Dr. Bescardi threw her arms wide, encompassing the entire monastery and the acreage in which it hid.

“So what do you think?” She didn’t wait for an answer; she was so delighted with the location, she didn’t need to hear anyone else’s opinion. “It’s a little rustic, but we are now absolutely, completely, unequivocally divorced from the noise and psychic disturbances of civilization.” She smiled blissfully as her eyes roved over the heavy stone masonry. When she felt her guests had had enough time to appreciate the perfection of their surroundings, she turned back to them and their dust-encrusted vehicle.

“Let’s get you three settled in. You can look around for the rest of the day while I prepare dinner. Tomorrow we’ll go to work.”

Hotch had been reaching into the backseat of their car for his go-bag. When Bescardi mentioned dinner, he froze. And frowned. “You’re cooking?” She nodded, arms crossed in a defiant ask-me-why way. “So there’s no staff here?” She shook her head. Hotch pulled his bag out and scanned the building and land once again. “How many other patients will be participating in this thing?”

Bescardi’s smile was sweetness itself. “It’s just us, Mr. Hotchner.” Then she pulled out one of the lines Rossi had thrown her way during their last phone call. “Really, how many ESP-ers do you think are walking around out there?” Ruby lips stretched in a semblance of humor, she turned and headed for the arched, stone entrance.  “Now. Follow me, please.”

As Reid and Ana retrieved their own luggage from the backseat, Hotch and the younger agent exchanged looks across the roof of the car. Reid could feel some disturbing emanations. But he couldn’t tell if it was traceable to something Bescardi was considering, or if it was just part of Hotch’s patently visible uneasiness at finding how truly isolated they were.

As the three guests trudged after their hostess, Reid took the opportunity to whisper near Hotch’s ear. “I think it’ll be okay, Hotch. The whole point of this thing was to get us someplace with minimal outside interference…you know…of the mental, emotional, psychic kind. That’s probably why there’s no staff. It’d just be more background noise.” Hotch’s only response was to cast a worried, slightly skeptical glance Reid’s way.

Ana looked back at the two men whispering behind her. She was feeling several different levels of emotion. She had noticed that the better she knew someone, the more dominant that person’s feelings were in her perceptions. She knew Bescardi wasn’t being totally open and she knew Reid’s boss was uncomfortable with the whole situation. But clearest of all, she could feel Spencer’s desire to dive into this weekend wholeheartedly. He wanted to learn about himself…and her…with no reservations, no restrictions. Ana suspected he had an almost child-like belief that giving someone the benefit of the doubt would go a long way toward making that person worthy of receiving such a benefit.

Spencer wanted to trust.

Ana already trusted him. She wanted to give him the gift of letting him follow his heart this weekend. So she looked back at grim Mr. Hotchner, who had asked her to call him ‘Hotch,’ and smiled. “Maybe she’s a good cook. She’s Italian. How bad could it be?”

Hotch nodded, but didn’t return her smile.

xxxxxxx

Dr. Bescardi puttered about in the monastery kitchen, putting together a simple dinner that fit her heritage and suited the bucolic setting. Pasta, garlic bread and salad.

She had also set up her ad-hoc chemistry lab here because of the ample counter space. As she chopped and stirred, she considered the unexpected variable of Aaron Hotchner.

She estimated him to weigh between 180 and 190 pounds. Not much for a man his height, but different from David Rossi’s weight. Less than Rossi, despite being a taller man. Bescardi had concocted a very special mixture to administer to the designated chaperone. But only if he became…problematic.

She sighed and shook her head.

She’d have to lighten the dosage in view of Hotchner’s slimmer build.

 She had a feeling Dr. Reid’s boss was indeed going to be…problematic.