Chapter Text
Since the Team agreed that their UnSub's recent behavior likely signaled the beginning of spree killings—Type 4 assassins were like that—Hotch had decided to split the team up that morning to review the first three crime scenes again. Reid and Rossi hit the first, Prentiss and the lead detective to the second, and him and Morgan to the third. The goal was to review with fresh eyes to see what was missing and what wasn't. They hadn't come up with much, so they all agreed to head back to the station and work on Reid's suggestion of a modified geographical profile.
Currently, Morgan was on speakerphone with Garcia as they tried to find something that connected the first three victims besides the small caliber handgun used to kill them and that their bodies were ditched in semi-remote locations. Hotch listened as he drove, providing the occasional comment as he went over the evidence in his mind yet again.
Glancing to the rearview mirror, Hotch noticed that a black Suburban with police lights blazing was coming up fast behind them. He knew his own mobile, which was on the dash's holder, hadn't rung and nothing had come across the scanner. Yet, whoever was driving that SUV—either Prentiss or Rossi—clearly was in rush to get somewhere. He frowned a little before glancing over to Morgan. "Did a call come in on your line?"
Morgan paused. "What? No. Why? What's going on?"
Hotch jutted his chin towards the mirror and Morgan turned around is seat. The SUV, in the high speed lane, approached at an alarming fast pace. Rossi was known for his tendency to ignore the speed limit, but this? This was the Holy shit, we need to get there fast! type driving. Hotch knew what he was about to say was quite stupid and obvious, but he still said it. "Something happened."
"Baby girl, you got anything?"
"Nothing, sugar. I'll let you go and will call back if I find anything."
"Thanks," Morgan said as he hung up the phone, still focused behind them. "Bat out of Hell … Like the damn thing has turbo boost." He laughed a little before he exclaimed, "Holy shit! Reid's driving." The distinct wail of the sirens was now audible.
Hotch glanced in the rear and side mirrors. Yes, Reid was driving and … talking ... while Rossi reclined in the passenger's seat, as if sleeping. Normally, Morgan would crack a joke about Reid's lectures causing Rossi to pass out, but with sirens, lights and speeding … Hotch gripped the wheel tighter.
"Fuck," Morgan muttered and flipped open his cell.
"He's not going to answer," Hotch told him as Reid's SUV blew past them. He flipped on the lights and sirens for their own vehicle and hit the gas. That little glimpse of Reid's expression he got as they passed made his belly twinge. Hotch had only seen that look a few times, when Reid had dug his heels in and downright determined about something.
Then, he realized just how fast Reid was going. Shit.
"It's going to straight to voicemail. I'm trying Rossi next," Morgan announced.
"Rossi's unconscious," Hotch stated, hating how clinical and flat his voice sounded. He heard the phone beeps which meant Morgan was ignoring him.
Morgan chanted, "Pick up. Pick up!"
Hotch kept focused on the road. He wasn't necessarily uncomfortable driving this fast; he'd been in a number of high-speed chases where speeds were in excess of one hundred miles per hour. But this was Reid. Reid, whose partner of over two years was passed out in the passenger side of the vehicle. His partner who was twenty-plus years older than him. His partner who had high blood pressure and acid reflux which were never openly acknowledged but the change in diet gave away.
Aaron's silent prayer was automatic, one borne from too many years of being in life-and-death situations. He added, Please, Lord Jesus, be merciful and kind to these two men who have done so much good and deserve the happiness they have together, because … because it's Dave and Spencer.
Despite the team's best efforts, no one really knew when the actual relationship started. Aaron picked up on the more-than-platonic affection Dave had for Spencer about six months after Dave had rejoined the BAU only because Aaron had the advantage of working with Dave for years. Dave was also less guarded around him, which Aaron believed was Dave's tacit way of asking for permission.
All Aaron had said was, "It's not Morgan or Garcia who you'll have to worry about. It will be me." Yes, he was overly protective of Spencer, but it was out of sheer admiration for the man's strength and ability to survive when so many wouldn't.
The team usually pointed to those harrowing nights in that dim Georgia cabin where they realized just how strong Spencer was; Aaron had known years earlier, during that initial interview with the young man that Gideon hadn't stopped talking about since his recruiting lecture at Cal Tech. Spencer explained his childhood, his chin lifted and gaze unwavering, and tacked on at the end, "…but then, you know this already from the background check. The BAU requires full psychological workups before a candidate is even considered."
Aaron's conclusion had been: the only thing that would crush Spencer Reid would be the betrayal by a lover. Hence, the warning to Dave.
No matter what the rumors were, Dave Rossi was a ferociously loyal man. He took his vows seriously. The implosion of his marriages were from a variety of things, but never because Dave cheated on his spouse. Yes, Dave looked but in all fairness, men did. Even Aaron. Dave and Aaron just knew never to look while the wives were around. So when Dave committed to Spencer, Aaron knew that the man would never stray, especially when Dave decided to tell his family about the new love of his life.
Coming out at fifty-five to a staunch Italian-American Catholic family at Christmas no less. Dave always had a flair for the dramatic.
As weird as it was, Dave and Spencer seemed to balance each other. It was a relationship that had no business working but it did. Aaron didn't even try to comprehend why.
And Aaron knew better than to allow the two men to continue to work on the same team, knew better than to partner them up because decisions during times of crisis should not be complicated by a personal relationship. Hell, Dave knew it as well, going so far as to offer up a compromise: Dave would stay behind at Quantico to work consults that didn't require the entire team and Anderson would be promoted to the "the Big Leagues," i.e., the team Aaron led.
Then, the whole mess with JJ left the team a bit more shaken than they'd like to admit, so the plan for Desk Duty Dave was shelved.
Snap!
Beep-beep-beep.
"C'mon, man, answer!" Morgan snarled at his phone. "Answer your goddamn cell!"
"Morgan," Hotch said and tilted his head ahead of them, where Reid had put on the turn signal for the next exit just as they passed the distinct white "H" with blue background sign.
He heard the man close his phone. "Shit! Do not tell me we're going to a damn hospital."
So Hotch didn't. He just kept pace with Reid, who had slowed down to a mere sixty-five miles per hour, and he sealed up his emotions the best he could.
He didn't say, Everything's gonna be okay, because it was pointless. Morgan didn't need his hand held and there was no way of knowing if indeed things were going to be okay. All Hotch could say was, "He has Reid."
"Thank fucking God."
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