Evolution, a Spencer Reid/Criminal Minds Fanfic

Chapter 36. Worries

Bescardi lunged across the seat, grabbing for the disappearing agent, but she was too late.

Hotch went over the edge of the incline. The doctor could track his progress by the crunching sound of brush and bracken as he tumbled down the slope.

Damn, damn, damn. The doctor threw open her door, jumped out and ran to the other side of the car. Things were just not going according to plan!

Looking over the edge she could see the dark-suited figure flopping and writhing, trying to right itself. Bescardi shook her head. It would be useless to tell him to stop struggling. She had a feeling he was the type who would never give up. But considering the characteristics and the amount of the drug he’d imbibed, she didn’t think he’d regain his feet for several hours.

She checked her watch. There was no time to attempt dragging him back up to the car. She needed to get back to her subjects. Mr. Hotchner would just have to wait until she returned at the end of the day. Since he was moving about, it didn’t look as though he’d seriously damaged himself in the fall. He’ll be fine. Serves him right for doing something as stupid as trying to get away.

She slammed the passenger door shut and decided to turn the car around. It would be easier to do so now, rather than when darkness and a complete lack of streetlights rendered the maneuver risky on such a narrow path.

Once that was accomplished, Bescardi was ready to walk the mile back to the monastery. She looked down one last time at Hotch and took pity on him. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she called down to him.

“Mr. Hotchner, that was a very foolish move, jumping out that way. However, if you make it back up while I’m gone, just wait in the car. Rest. I’ll be back for you later.” She couldn’t tell if he’d heard or understood. His mind might be so addled by unaccustomed chemicals, he’d have no idea what had happened anyway. Disgusted at herself for letting the unexpected occur, and with Reid and Ana on her mind, Dr. Bescardi turned away and began the hike back. With so much occupying her thoughts, she completely forgot to leave the car unlocked.

And the keys were in her pocket when she left.

xxxxxxx

As Hotch lay at the bottom of the shallow ravine, he couldn’t stop his body from twisting and contorting like a cat in free fall, trying to right itself. Problem was, his brain couldn’t settle on what ‘right’ was. Going over the side of the cliff hadn’t felt much different than lying still. Except for the tears in his skin and clothing. And the bruises. And the popping sensation in his right knee. Otherwise, it felt like the same uncontrolled, spinning, rushing, floating. And there was a peculiar roaring noise in his ears. He couldn’t hear much else.

He hadn’t been able to hear Bescardi telling him he’d be fine or that she’d be back for him. For all he knew, this condition was permanent.

More than anything else, Hotch felt scared.

And alone.

So very, very alone.

xxxxxxx

The walk back gave Dr. Bescardi time to calm herself. It also gave her time to practice a technique she’d developed over the years that she thought of as ‘blanking.’

Reid had been right when he’d suspected she might feel vulnerable associating with those who could have unauthorized access to her thoughts. She wasn’t sure if it worked, but she theorized that doing repetitious, rote mental exercises would make telepathy more difficult. She likened it to chanting a mantra over and over until a barrier was in the forefront of the mind, masking the deeper levels of thought.