Evolution, a Spencer Reid/Criminal Minds Fanfic

Chapter 46. Prognosis

“Michelangelo didn’t throw a man over a cliff and leave him to die.” Rossi advanced with slow, deliberate, unstoppable steps.

“How many times must I tell you? I did not touch Mr. Hotchner!”

Rossi halted inches away. “You have the mind of a scientist, Carol. Minutiae, fine points of distinction, technicalities. Those are what you thrive on. Maybe you didn’t ‘touch’ Hotch, but my gut tells me you were instrumental in leaving him out there. And my gut never steers me wrong when it comes to cold, self-centered bitches.”

Her eyebrows rose at the vulgarity. Rossi had always behaved like a gentleman around her. Well…at least he’s showing his true colors. Barbarian. Benighted beast. No better than his guard-dog friend.

But sometimes in the face of defeat, or under terrific pressure, Bescardi’s brain could produce solutions…or at least alternatives. Holding her career in her hands, watching certain destruction rolling up its sleeves before her, she grasped at one of those alternatives now.

“Perhaps you’re right, Dave. Perhaps I’m more invested in science than humanity. Or maybe I’m invested in science for humanity.” It was the most difficult thing Dr. Carol Bescardi had ever done…she loosened her grip on the precious box of drives and extended them toward Rossi. He raised his chin and regarded her through half-lidded eyes. Suspicious. Calculating. Wondering what her game was.

“Do you remember how we met, David?” She didn’t wait for his reply. “You needed someone to talk to. You had taken a wrong turn on a case. You had trusted in the paranormal and it cost you dearly. You came to me and I listened. I helped you, yes?” Rossi nodded once. “Your belief in yourself was compromised. If I hadn’t shown you that you were not at fault, you might have abandoned your career.” Taking the biggest gamble of her life, Bescardi stepped closer and nudged Rossi’s hands with the box’s edge, encouraging him to take it.

“Now I am putting my career in your hands. Before we do anything else, I ask of you the same consideration I showed you when you were in need.” Rossi allowed his fingers to grip the container of flash drives. He looked into the opaque darkness of the doctor’s eyes.

“Talk to me, David. Show me the courtesy I showed you. If you think I’ve taken a wrong turn, help me. Help me see as you do.” Feeling Rossi’s hold on the box, Bescardi withdrew her hands and stepped back, giving him full control of her most precious possession.

“Let me make us some coffee and we’ll talk, yes?”

At mention of ‘coffee,’ she saw something flicker in his eyes. He nodded again and smiled.

This time it didn’t remind her of a cobra.

More like a crocodile.

xxxxxxx

Morgan had recovered from the question about the mark on Hotch’s chest. But he didn’t wish to discuss it.

“I’m gonna stop by Hotch’s room. Just for a sec.”

Reid looked down at Ana, still clinging to him and looking a little green around the edges. “I wanna get Ana out of here for a little while. The doc said Hotch’d probably be asleep and we haven’t eaten since yesterday.” He hugged Ana a fraction closer. “Bescardi kind of ruined breakfast, ya know?”

“Yes, please, Spencer.” Ana looked as though she would have jumped at any chance to take a break from the psychic overflow that surrounded all hospitals.

Morgan passed a hand over his stomach and shrugged. “I’m more tired than hungry. I must’ve eaten about twenty candy bars and maybe twice as many bags of chips on the drive up here. You guys go eat. I’m gonna sit by Hotch for a while, okay?”

“Sure.”

“See ya later.”

Morgan watched the young couple leave, hand in hand. He found Hotch’s room and paused outside the door before entering. The first sight of anyone he knew reclining in a hospital bed was always a shock for him. He’d seen Hotch in that position a couple of times, but still needed a moment to prepare himself. Patients always looked so pale and fragile. It was disturbing. Especially when it was someone you loved. Or someone you preferred to think of as indestructible and tough. Morgan took a breath and entered.

Sure enough, it struck him how thin and pale his boss looked when he wasn’t barking orders or scowling…or upright.

He approached the bed cautiously. Hotch was wired and tubed, his injured knee resting in a sling depending from steel rods over the bed. His chest moved in reassuring rhythm.

Watching his chest made Morgan think of the mark the doctor had mentioned. After a few minutes, he decided the Unit Chief wouldn’t know if he satisfied his curiosity and took a peek. Hotch had been stripped. For the most part his wounds had been left open to the air, antibiotic ointment smeared over them. A few deeper gashes were bandaged. The standard hospital gown rested lightly over him, visible from the waist up. A sheet and blanket covered the lower part of his body.

Morgan looked over his shoulder. He didn’t see or hear anyone approaching. He reached behind Hotch’s neck and undid the tie holding the gown secure. With gentle care, he pulled the neck of the gown down until Hotch’s chest was exposed.

Morgan frowned. It was just as the doctor described. There was a patch several shades paler than the surrounding skin, in the shape of an elongated, but perfectly-formed, hand.

Morgan stared for a moment. He checked over his shoulder again to be sure there would be no one to observe what he did  next. He couldn’t resist placing his own hand over the print.

He could think of no plausible explanation for how Hotch had acquired it. It was just another mystery tied to Reid and Ana. Morgan pulled his hand back, shuddered, and, shaking his head, pulled the gown back up. As he slipped his fingers behind Hotch’s neck to secure the tie he’d undone, he glanced at his leader’s face.

Hotch’s eyes were open, watching him with a steady, solemn gaze.

To Morgan’s surprise, the sadness that always seemed to be lurking in the depths of those eyes resolved itself into tears.

Which then spilled over.

Hotch began to cry, and Morgan had no idea why.